by Hugh Cook
Even had the savages been cooperative, there was simply no room for Guest Gulkan on that totem pole. And, to judge from the attitude of the man at the base of the pole, they were in no mood to be cooperative. Guest backed off.
The crowd went wild.
Here was a great spectacle! One man, alone in the arena against a horde of hungry crocodiles! The totem pole is crowded, so he cannot climb! The gates are closed, so he cannot run! One side of the plinth has been ramped with sand, so it is useless as a fortress! He has nothing between him and monstrous death but the strength of his sword!
The crowd cheered with a passion. Whooped, hollered, yelled, stamped, clapped, applauded!
Ah, drama!
Blood, death, fear, pain, anguish!
But the man in the arena was undaunted.
For the man in the arena was no ordinary mortal. Rather, he was the mighty Guest Gulkan, the Weaponmaster, the Emperor in Exile. If Crabs, Bankers, therapists and Shabbles were not sufficient to encompass his doom, how then could any mere rabble of crocodiles hope to pull him down, however great their numbers? Guest Gulkan strode grimly across the burning sands of the arena. He raised his sword on high. With a felicity beyond the command of any ordinary mortal, the Weaponmaster took the measure of his target. Then he struck. A mighty blow he struck, for the training of a lifetime went into that single swordstroke.
Down came the Weaponmaster's sword. The very sun itself burnt hot-white in the brightness of its steel. With heroic force the blade descended. Impact! The sword hacked into flesh! The sword struck clean, struck true, and hacked the head away from one of the human corpses with which the burning sands were littered. Guest seized the head by the hair and lifted it. The head was heavy. The hair started to slip through his fingers, till he clutched it tighter.
With his grip secure, Guest raised the head on high, scattering droplets of blood.
Then he locked eyes with the nearest crocodile, which paused in its waddle and regarded him suspiciously.
"Here, big boy," said Guest.
Then tossed the head to one side. It flew, it fell, it hit, it rolled. It rolled in the direction of the totem pole, leaving a splattering of blood upon the sand.
As the crocodile hesitated, Guest hacked off a hand, and threw it so it fell a little nearer the totem pole than the head.
At which the savage who was standing on the sands in the shadow of the totem pole waited no longer. He saw what must inevitably happen. There was no room for him upon the totem pole, therefore he must inevitably meet his doom when the Weaponmaster's treacherous tactics betrayed him to the arena's monsters. Choosing to meet his dead as a hero, the savage screamed, and charged toward the crocodiles.
Inspired by this example – and perhaps realizing that some adroit flesh-hacking and flesh-throwing could disperse their small-minded enemies so as to make them easy game for organized human onslaught – his comrades came scrambling down from the totem pole to join him in his efforts.
Now it happens that the crocodile is a very expensive beast, for Dalar ken Halvar lies in the heartland of the great continent of Parengarenga, and the crocodile must be brought there at enormous cost from the Crocodile Coast, which lies some 1500 leagues to the west of the city. There are in Dalar ken Halvar people who devote their entire lives to this business of bringing crocodiles from the sea to the city for the annual gladiatorial games. Consequently -
As Guest and his de facto allies started scattering the crocodiles by the simple process of throwing lumps of dead meat in all directions, those in charge of the arena started doing their calculations.
The crocodile is a beast of very little brain, and knows not the virtue of alliance. So, compelled by simply hunger, the brutes were already scattering to glut themselves on the chunks of ragged meat which Guest and his savages were so freely delivering. It was inevitable that Guest and his well-armed little army would soon start the slaughter of the beasts.
This would have been a disaster for Dalar ken Halvar's entertainment industry, since the Arena's schedule called for those very crocodiles to eat a great many unarmed slaves, heretics, common criminals and juvenile delinquents in the days which yet lay ahead.
So, fearful of their investment and the despoilment of their timetable, those who commanded the Grand Arena threw open the gates which led to the burning sands, and crocodile-handlers poured out in force to defend the poor animals against the merciless Weaponmaster and those with whom he had leagued himself.
Even as the crocodile-handlers started pouring out onto the sands, the silver screen of the Door hummed into life again. The savages cried out in excitement. Abandoning their corpse-hacking efforts, the savages fled for the Door, and vanished through it.
But Guest stood his ground, for he thought himself as safe in Dalar ken Halvar as anywhere.
Or was he?
As Guest was rethinking it, the Door snapped out of existence once again – and he realized the decision had been made for him.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The Penvash Circle: the Circle accessed by the Door in the Old City of Penvash runs thus: – the Old City of Penvash – an unmapped forest of eucalyptus – an ocean cay at anchor in Moana – the fringes of Defelfankarzosh – an unmapped mountainside – the Plain of Tazala – a jungle a night away from the Old City's Penvash day – the Grand Arena of Dalar ken Halvar – a cold cannibal beach – and back again to the Old City of Penvash.
So the bewilderments of rescue brought Guest Gulkan to the city of Dalar ken Halvar. In later conference with Plandruk
Qinplaqus, the Silver Emperor who was master of Dalar ken Halvar and lord of the Empire of Greater Parengarenga, Guest eventually decided that Thayer Levant must have escaped from the Old City with both the star-globe and the secret of the Doors.
"That," said Guest, "would explain why I was found by a gang of bandits. For Levant must have sold them the star-globe and the secret of the Doors."
Being thus satisfied that he had fully and properly explicated the manner of his rescue, Guest debated long and diligently with Plandruk Qinplaqus, endeavoring to decide what he should do next.
The Weaponmaster still wished to make himself master of the Circle of the Partnership Banks.
"But," said he, "the last time I tried to make alliance with the demons of the Banks, they betrayed me."
"Of course," said Qinplaqus. "For they had Shabble. But it seems Shabble has lost itself, so now they have the bubble not. If you can win the star-globe and make your return to Alozay, then you may find Italis and its kind more amenable to your discipline."
If.
Could Guest find the star-globe? Could he return to Alozay?
Could he find a way to break Italis to his will?
He could only try, for, as he saw it, he had precious little by the way of alternative.
So Guest Gulkan sat with Plandruk Qinplaqus, endeavoring to chart out his destiny, and, by application of cunning and intelligence, to find a steady course into the future – a course which he would be able to hold regardless of the buffets of fortune.
In order to minimize his liabilities as he ventured to Argan to pursue the star-globe, Guest Gulkan decided to leave the yellow bottle in Dalar ken Halvar. It had saved his life during his maroonment on a desert island; but, during his brief travels with Rolf Thelemite and his fellow bandits, Guest had realized the bottle to be as much of a danger as it was an asset. It was such a prize that it could not be openly held by anyone less than an emperor.
So Guest divested himself of the bottle and the ring which commanded it. Plandruk Qinplaqus declared that the bottle would, in future, be used for the transportation of crocodiles from the coast to the city. This would allow great economies, and give a valuable boost to the city's entertainment industry. The Silver Emperor even drew up a formal contract under which Guest leased the bottle to Dalar ken Halvar for that purpose.
"So," said Qinplaqus, "you now have a source of earnings here, which will guarantee your financial secu
rity during the years of your retirement if you meet with failure in your quest."
This was all very reasonable, but it dismayed Guest thoroughly. Retirement! Was he to think of retirement? He was in his maturity, was at his peak, was ready for the rule of the Circle, the rule of the world! How then could he think of retiring to Dalar ken Halvar? To live by the Yamoda River; to swim in the waters of Lake Shalasheen; to eat polyps and soy beans; to live in a bamboo hut… no, it was scarcely a vision of paradise.
Having divested himself of the yellow bottle and its controlling ring, Guest then decided to leave his mazadath in Dalar ken Halvar. He knew what it was for, and knew it was no good to him.
This left Plandruk Qinplaqus holding the profits of the struggles of Guest Gulkan's life. The Silver Emperor had become the guardian of the yellow bottle and its controlling ring; the mazadath; and the cornucopia, which steadfastly refused to generate anything whatsoever except black slime. The Silver Emperor was ruler too of the x-x-zix, the fabled wishstone of Untunchilamon, which still refused to control the Hot Mouth.
Despite all the efforts of a team of mad scientists supervised by Asodo Hatch, this weather machine remained beyond human control, and it was supposed that it might take two or three generations to discipline the thing. Guest thought of these treasures as tokens of defeat. Rightly or wrongly, he had derived one great lesson from their possession: he was not adequate to the difficulties of contending against demons and gods. The great error of his life had been when he had first trusted the demon Italis.
Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, demon of Safrak and Guardian Prime, had promised Guest that he would be granted the powers of a wizard if he would only liberate the Great God Jocasta from imprisonment in Obooloo's Temple of Blood. But the demon had been lying. The Great God Jocasta had been lying. At great personal cost, Guest had succeeded in liberating Jocasta from the Temple of Blood – and Jocasta had immediately possessed him, and had tried to make him kill his father.
Thanks to the intervention of Anaconda Stogirov, Guest lived free of possession, his father yet survived, and a badly damaged Jocasta was hiding out in the nethermost depths of Cap Foz Para Lash. In preparation for his onward journey, Guest visited Cap Foz Para Lash himself, and paid his respects to Paraban Senk, the disembodied entity which commanded that trogloditic realm.
Inside Cap Foz Para Lash, Paraban Senk organized running repairs on the Weaponmaster's teeth. His teeth were treated in the same room of miracles which had secured the regrowth of his arms and legs after his long-ago mauling by the Great Mink of Chi'ash- lan. That same room of miracles cured the Weaponmaster of threadworm, roundworm and ringworm, treated him for dandruff then sampled his blood.
After his blood had been sampled, Guest Gulkan was told he had been infected by yaws, a tropical disease transmitted by the contact of skin with skin. If left untreated, it would – or so he was told – it would deform his bones and damage his joints. But treatment was offered to him in the form of a dose of chemicals, and this he took.
He was told also -
But enough is enough!
It would be wrong to intrude upon the Weaponmaster's privacy by itemizing the various diseases with which he had infected himself in the course of his travels. Let us remark only that, while many questing heroes have died by the sword, and an equal number have fallen to dragons, a far greater proportion of such creatures have been ultimately struck down by syphilis, or by other diseases similarly acquired and yet more fearsome in their operation.
With this visit to Cap Foz Para Lash having come to its conclusion, Guest was ready to leave. Or, not exactly ready – for he was daunted by the difficulty of the task which yet awaited him. But there was nothing more to be secured by lingering further in Dalar ken Halvar.
Plandruk Qinplaqus organized Guest's transport as far as the realms of Drangsturm. A military convoy escorted him from Dalar ken Halvar to the seaport city of Estro Sex. From there, an imperial ship took him to the Ebrell Islands, then through the Stepping Stone Islands to the Inner Waters, landing him in due course at the Castle of Ultimate Peace, the stronghold which guarded the eastern flank of Drangsturm. Guest landed with some trepidation.
For, as far as the Confederation of Wizards was aware, Guest Gulkan had died in the Cave of the Warp in the Shackle Mountains, when he had ventured beyond the Veils of Fire. There was a danger, then, that he would be recognized; that recognition would lead to arrest; that arrest would lead to torture; and that, having been rigorously tortured for his secrets, he would be handed over to a cabal of wizardly ethnologists for lethal dissection.
Yet, as Guest knew well from his earlier sojourn in the realms of Drangsturm, the management of trade along the Drangsturm Road (the road between the Castle of Controlling Peace and the Castle of Controlling Power) was routinely controlled by the soldiers of the Landguard. Since Guest was presumed to be dead, no member of that garrison force would be on the lookout for him, so he thought the danger of his capture was minimal.
In practice, Guest proved right in this. He was able to travel the Drangsturm Road unmolested, thus reaching the Salt Road which ran up Argan's western seaboard. Guest headed toward Narba, feeling rather more hopeful now he had negotiated the dangers of Drangsturm. But, en route to Narba, he began to hear the most troubling news from the north. There were wild rumors of war; of dragons; of a Power which turned the living to stone; of battles of wizards; of the overthrow of cities; of a wholesale piracy which looted entire provinces; of plague; of mad dogs; of living rainbows; of werewolves; of outbreaks of contagious vampirism; of blasphemy; of revolution; of treason; of treachery; of floods; of orcs and ogres; and (ah! fearsome threat!) of rates of inflation running at a thousand percentage points per day.
Giving support to the probability of threat was the fact that the roads were clogged with refugees; and, on reaching Narba, Guest found that many of the people there were sailors and merchants customarily based in Androlmarphos, people who had been away from that city when it was struck by war, and were unable to return there because the city had fallen to an alliance of pirates.
From what Guest could make out, it seemed that the city of Androlmarphos had been invaded by pirates from the Greater Teeth.
The Harvest Plains, the nation which owned the seaport of Androlmarphos, was arming for war – seeking to displace the pirates from their seaport. In the Rice Empire, the armies were likewise arming for war, and – if rumor was to be believe – Lord Regan of the Rice Empire hoped to profit from disturbance in the Harvest Plains by launching an invasion of those Plains.
This gave Guest a problem.
How was he to go north in the face of such a concatenation of difficulties? And if he did go north, how was he to preserve himself against being mistaken for a spy, or for a pirate, or for a bandit?
Fortunately, an easy solution to Guest Gulkan's difficulties was at hand. Narba had long traded with the pirates of the Greater Teeth; and, now that those pirates had ambitiously seized the city of Androlmarphos, Narba continued to provide them with every facility they could pay for. So pirate recruiters were working freely in Narba, recruiting mercenaries, and pouring out the treasure of Androlmarphos to build an army which could contend against the might of the Harvest Plains.
So Guest volunteered himself for war, and thus was shortly shipped north to Androlmarphos, so avoiding the dangers posed by whatever part of rumor could be substantiated by fact.
Thus it came to pass that the Weaponmaster was in the city of Androlmarphos when that city was assailed by the armies of the Harvest Plains. Since the forces of ordered civilization triumphed on this occasion over the lawless forces of piracy, the Harvest Plains reclaimed Androlmarphos; the pirates retreated north to the Greater Teeth; and Guest Gulkan found himself very well advanced on his journey to the Old City of Penvash.
At this stage, an inexperienced adventurer would have incontinently flung himself into a direct assault on the Old City itself. Guest could have done as much. He could have stolen
a boat, and shipped himself from the islands of the Greater Teeth to the shores of Argan. From there, he could – if all else failed – have simply walked north to the Old City.
But the Weaponmaster doubted very much that the star-globe which had been used to control the Door in the Old City in Penvash was still to be found in those ancient ruins. After all, during Guest's sojourn in Dalar ken Halvar the Circle of Doors which was based in Penvash had not been reopened. The Door in Dalar ken Halvar's Grand Arena had been diligently watched by the Silver Emperor's minions, and not once had it shown the slightest flicker of life. Guest presumed, then, that the bandits who had won possession of the star-globe had carried their treasure away from the Old City. He presumed, further, that they would naturally seek to recruit the aid of a prince, a king or an emperor before they attempted to reopen the Circle which was based in Penvash.
For, if you find yourself in possession of a device which can open Doors to places as dangerous and as various as a battlefield and a Grand Arena, then it necessarily follows that you must be rather more than a bandit to successfully exploit such a device in defiance of the lords of the territories to which such Doors open.
Hence Guest suspected that those who currently held the starglobe would be seeking to enlist the support of some territorial power in or near Penvash. Thus thinking, the Weaponmaster ventured no footsore journey to the Old City, but, instead, set about the business of suborning a territorial power for his own purposes.