I will not reveal the names of the teachers I studied with. They were relatively useful, but after learning what little they had to teach, I killed each of them in turn. I realized that I had to actually experience my magic and eventually it would come under my control. Such powerful magic, however, is dangerous—even to the wielder. I found a sorcerer-mage by the name of Rustem after making my way into the Persian metropolis of Pasargadae. He had knowledge that I needed. He was born to be my guide, but he was perverse. This man Rustem was the head sorcerer-mage to the so-called King of Kings, Cyrus the Great. He had power, and this made me hate him.
The problem is that he was quite perceptive, and he knew my heart was full of evil. His perversion was that he wanted to be a pure hearted sage, when only evil runs in the veins of sorcerers. He taught me some useful things, nevertheless. My goal, you see, was to be able to possess people for a longer time that was normally possible for me. Usually, I could stay in a person for a few minutes. In addition, I thought that it would be best, in so far as my goal was to gain enormous power, to act as a guiding figure in the mind of the person. Imagine, I thought, if I could enter into the mind of Cyrus the Great! I would influence his every thought. I would make him a slave to my desires. He would cower in the back of his mind while I forced him to decree whatever I fancied.
You may ask, how can you force a person to do something against his wishes? Don’t be so stupid! Every person has a weakness—sometimes many of them. The greatest flaw is fear. I look for that weakness. Yes, the greatest fear. Some people are foolishly afraid of bugs. Some fear disapproval. Some are terrified of lurking monsters. I find these fears. I find them and use them. There is no person alive who can hide themselves from me. I am drawn to fear. Ha!! Once I found a man who had an irrational fear of having his eye poked out. I conjured in his mind an image of his eye quivering on its stem of nerves, bouncing on his blanched cheek. His heart actually stopped.
I was becoming very skilled, but there were practical problems. I had to keep my body safe while I was sojourning mentally. It would be helpless, so I would have to hide it in a safe place. No—I trusted no person or demon to tend to my body. My goal was to one day find a suitable body—such as that of Cyrus the Great, and possess it. If it got old and died, I would simply transfer my mind to his successor. Oh I am a genius! But this was something I was working on.
One day, I decided to finally test my skills. I should have waited. I should not have experimented on Cyrus the Great, for he was protected well by the sorcerer-mage Rustem. I knew the king’s fear. And I say these fears can be quite foolish. His was indeed foolish.
Cyrus the Great’s fear was that of being seen or heard relieving himself in the privy. He did not even want anyone to know that he was subject to the physical needs that others had. He had gained this fear when he was a boy growing up with simple, poor shepherds. He had the knowledge, almost innately, that he was a prince. As a child he lived in dire poverty, having as a baby, been ordered killed by his father, the king. A kindly soldier had left him with a childless couple in a remote village. Even as a child, he would pretend to be a king and he bossed around the village children until they would come and serve him. This was how he was, in fact, discovered. Word had spread about his regal bearing and the way he held sway over the village, even at the tender age of ten.
One day, before being discovered, Cyrus had gone far up into the rocky hills to relieve himself. The day was fine and he lingered. Squatting, he passed his stool and then used a few large leaves to wipe himself. Being fastidious, even at that time, he always carried a little brass pot of water with which to wash himself afterwards. He had just finished when he felt eyes upon him. One of the boys who had been quite hard for him to subject was staring at him with an insolent smile on his face.
“Oh King!” the boy gloated, “Your shit stinks the same as anyone else’s! Why should you be King and not me?” With this, the boy ran down the rocky hill to crow his discovery to his friends.
Cyrus the Great had conceived of his need for secrecy at this point and it was reinforced when a Greek visitor had returned to his homeland relating how the Persian monarch was the greatest of all kings. He swore that he had never seen Emperor Cyrus the Great voiding stool or urine. Rumors spread that he didn’t even need to sleep—rather, he meditated instead.
My mistake I will reveal tomorrow. I am busy now. I see my servant putting sweetened water out for annoying birds that are no bigger than bees. They bothered me at first, and I poisoned many of them before I realized just how evil they are. Those birds fight constantly. They are without pity. I enjoy the fact that they are beautiful, as I am, yet black hearted.
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