Chapter 30

“YAN?!” Sovt hissed in a whisper-shout.

“I’m improvising!” Yan replied. “Who here can dance, at least a little?!”

Lekh and Mekh raised their hands.

“Excellent! Who can sing?!”

No one raised a hand.

“Then I’ll go out there and come up with something,” Yan replied quickly.

“But what exactly are you planning to sing?” Sovt asked point-blank.

“I don’t know,” the lad answered honestly.

“As for that, Mister Lim, you can rely on me,” Morik suddenly said. “I have letter magic! Haven’t you forgotten? Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll whip up such a song for you that it’ll pour right out of your mouth on its own!”

“Brilliant!” the rogue replied. “Lekh, Mekh, give Morik your notebook. He needs something to write in.”

They did exactly that.

“So, does anyone else have some hidden talent?”

“I can juggle,” Julius said.

“Excellent. Then you’re coming onstage with us. The rest of you—find the representative of the Vault and help Zolotoros.”

“Though I doubt they’ll simply let us walk up and talk to him,” the fugitive sorcerer remarked.

“Yeah, good point,” Yan nodded. “We need a distraction.”

“Leave that to me,” Semyu said, twirling his mustache. “I’ll have a few words with that bastard Zaur about yesterday. I’ll make one hell of a commotion.”

“We’re counting on you!” Yan barked. “All right, move out!”

The dressing room opened. Two teams emerged from it. And one Semyu.

The first team, led by Yan, bolted down the stairs and, to a general ovation, descended to the ground floor, toward the guests.

The second team ran to the right along the inner balcony. They needed to find the representative of the Vault while Yan and the others put on their show.

Adrenaline pounded in the rogue’s temples. Another moment passed, and the local orchestra began to play. And to the melodious racket of a violin, a flute, and what sounded like drums, there he stood in the center of the enormous guest hall, whose ceilings were so high they could not even be seen.

Yan Di Wonderwalk.

Around him—hundreds of sorcerers, aristocrats, barons, guests from other worlds, important big shots and not-so-important little mice. Everything was flooded with light. Through the enormous pointed-arch windows, the face of the pale moon could be seen. On the balcony, not far from the inner staircase, stood Svono, Zaur, Sapphire, Eric, and, of course, Flint.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Yan announced solemnly, bowing low and theatrically. “Welcome! To our modest evening devoted to magic and sorcery! My name is Lim Lucius Leadastray! And tonight—you will witness a performance you will never forget for the rest of your lives!”

“Hey, Flint, look.” Eric pointed at Yan. “Am I dreaming or what?”

“M-m, I don’t know, my dear friend,” Flint replied, after which both mages stared in bewilderment at the rulers of Tsagat.

They were solemnly clapping and whooping along with everyone else.

“What is he doing here?” the two mages asked each other at the exact same time.

“TONIGHT! Performing alongside me are my dear friends!” Yan continued grandly. “Please welcome—Dran and Kran!”

Two enormous adepts of the Blue Paths rolled out into the center of the arena, and the entire audience immediately sank into deathly silence.

“A-ah… and also—the CRANE!” Yan finished. The two adepts abruptly stepped apart and raised Julius over their heads. He expertly balanced in a handstand, looking practically indistinguishable from a real acrobat.

And the entire audience immediately erupted into thunderous applause.

“No, do you see this, Flint? DO YOU SEE IT?!” Eric would not let up.

“Yes, I see it, I see it, my friend, it’s just…” The mage spread his hands. “I have absolutely no idea how to explain this.”

Meanwhile, Julius was ceremoniously lowered back to the floor, and he discreetly slipped Yan a small sheet of paper.

The rogue immediately unfolded it, and the words written there… really did enter his mouth all on their own. They themselves made the nearby orchestra compose the melody they needed, and Lekh and Mekh dance exactly as the performance demanded.

And then a song poured from Yan’s lips:

By morning, I’m the mighty boss,
I know the where, the when, the task.
First a major, then corporal—
Blink once—already admiral!
Messiah of every nation,
Lord of every sky in creation.
In the morning—I eat, write, dream,
Wash it down with vengeance sweet!

By day I am defender of fate,
Guide through worlds from gate to gate.
By day, an angel from on high,
A battle gladiator—I!
I turn the ages with my hand,
The dead get no rest at my command.
Grove-druid, mage, and actor—more!
I know the key to every door!

By evening—henpecked, bound in chains,
Their clanging sends fear through kings’ veins.
By evening I’m a necromancer,
At the local tavern—a musician.
At night I guard the worlds entire,
Darkness and time bow to my power.
One burning wish consumes my soul:
EVERYONE SHUT UP! SILENCE, ALL!

Who am I, in actual fact?
You won’t believe it—but it’s true:
I hold the worlds on strings, like in an act,
Like a conjurer and mage would do!
I’m a reveler, a dreamer too,
A madman, sailor through and through.

Being a god is easy enough—
Staying human? Much, much tougher!

The song ended, the final verse broke off, and the dancing adepts Lekh and Mekh froze ceremoniously in equally ceremonious poses before hundreds of people. Yan was breathing heavily. Who could have known that Morik possessed such incredibly powerful magic? Fools and ignoramuses, those who had ever claimed otherwise! Without the mad sorcerer’s magic, they would now have had to fight everyone here at once, one after another—and who knew who would have emerged victorious from that battle.

And then the audience erupted into applause once again. Many of the guests rushed toward the “performers,” surrounding them, praising and extolling their talent.

Svono, Zaur, and Sapphire were no less impressed—perhaps even more so. The rulers of Tsagat had completely forgotten about the delegations from other states. They came down the stairs to the ground floor along with the rest of the spectators and applauded as though they had never seen anything like it in their lives. Semyu did not even need to distract anyone.

“What… the hell was that just now?” a stunned Eric asked Flint.

“No idea.” Flint spread his hands, just as bewildered. “But we can’t waste this chance!”

“Flint! Thank the Gods, I knew I’d find you here!” Zolotoros’s voice suddenly sounded beside them.

Both mages turned around. Flint immediately recognized the fugitive court sorcerer.

“Zolot? What the hell are you doing here, great Gods of Concepts?!” Flint blurted out in shock.

“Long story, my friend. Existence is in danger!” Zolotoros declared. “I managed to peer into the Beyond! And now my insane ruler wants to use what I discovered to break open a path to it! I fled from her here, to Tsagat, because I knew someone from the Vault would definitely come to the local tournament.”

“What? You fled? The Beyond?” Flint recoiled in horror. You could practically see a dozen different thoughts fighting inside him at once. “This… this is extremely dangerous, Zolot. This is so sudden. We need to hide you, or…”

Suddenly, the applause in the center of the hall stopped dead.

A crushing silence filled the hall.

And out of that silence came Mich’s triumphant voice:

“Hey! Everybody, look over here! Look who I caught by the beard!” the fire mage shouted cheerfully, dragging a terrified, trembling Morik out for everyone to see. “It’s Morik Fasan! That very letter mage!”