by Hugh Cook
It was an uncommonly moist darkness, which smelt alternately of the sewer and the brothel. As he shuffled forward through that absolute blackness, the Weaponmaster Guest started to find it difficult to keep his balance. A momentary dizziness beset him, and found himself breathing swiftly, too swiftly.
"We should have brought a lamp," said Thayer Levant.
"Hush!" said Guest, who thought that Levant's rightful mission on this quest was to hew firewood, draw water and peel potatoes, not to pass comment on the plans and performance of his social superiors.Thayer Levant did hush, though in all truth the knifeman felt himself well-qualified to pass comment. Levant had traveled the Circle of the Partnership Banks for a great many years as the servant of Plandruk Qinplaqus, hence thought himself an expert on that Circle and its cities; and, to him, his companions on this present quest were but rank amateurs in the art of traveling the world.
Once Levant had hushed, the silence became oppressive. Each of the questing heroes could hear the steady scrapage of boots against stone, the clinkage of metal, and the tiny sounds made by their tongues and their teeth, by the creaking of their kneecaps and the hush-wash of their breathing.
In the black and oppressive hush, wash after wash of smells assailed them. From somewhere came the smell of dung; then that of camphor; then a sweet, sickly perfume of the kind favored by women of ill repute, or by young women who have yet to learn the art of sophisticated restraint in matters of self-enhancement. In that darkness -
"Stop," said the Witchlord Onosh.
All stopped.
"What is it?" said Guest.
"Something," said Lord Onosh.
"What?" said Guest.
"Hush! Not so loud!" said his father.
"What is it?" said Sken-Pitilkin.
"A light," said the Witchlord.
It was a dull, red light which lay ahead of them. It was so dull it was almost impossible to see. Sken-Pitilkin stared at it for a long moment, then abruptly strode forward. The light moved.
"The light's moving!" cried the Witchlord.
"Because," said Sken-Pitilkin, with scathing scorn, "it is in my hand. That's why it's moving."
Then Sken-Pitilkin returned to his companions, bearing in his fist a stick of incense, which he waved rigorously before letting it fall. Like a dying star, the incense lay on the stones.
"Light," muttered Lord Onosh. "I wish we had light."
Then the Witchlord bethought himself of the ring of ever-ice which he had taken from Banker Sod long, long ago on his first conquest of the island of Alozay. Lord Onosh now customarily wore that ring on a chain slung around his neck. Bethinking himself of that light, he produced it: but its feebleness could scarcely do more than illuminate his own face.
Not to be outdone, Guest Gulkan produced his mazadath. That amulet was a light more powerful than the Witchlord's ring of ever-ice, but it was insufficient to light the path.
"Hush down your lights," said Pelagius Zozimus. "They can but betray us. They cannot serve us."
Both Witchlord and Weaponmaster accepted this admonishment from the slug-chef Zozimus, and, concealing their futile lights, they pushed on down the tunnel until they saw a familiar green glow ahead.
That steady-burning jadeness was sure sign of the presence of a demon. Or so thought these questing heroes! As it happens, they were right, though some experts hold that the eyes of a basilisk burn with just such a cold and steady green; and certain mariners aver that a kraken encountered at night will be seen to emanate a similar baleful light; and one of the brands of the moonpaint which comes from the city of Injiltaprajura is most definitely a thus-shaded green.
Still, in the confidence of encountering a demon, Guest Gulkan and his companions advanced, and found themselves in a vaulted octagonal chamber. Ranked around the walls of that chamber were niches in which stood timeprison pods identical to those of Alozay's Hall of Time - some occupied, others not.
"Time pods," said Thayer Levant.
"And a demon," said Sken-Pitilkin.
Indeed, in the center of that chamber stood a jade-green monolith identical in outward form to Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, demon of Safrak. Thanks to a briefing from Iva-Italis, Guest Gulkan knew this to be the demon Ungular Scarth, a servant of the Great God Jocasta.
Illuminated by the green frostlight of the demon Ungular Scarth was the Great God Jocasta. As advertised, the Great God was a doughnut the size of a man's head. It was floating in the air within two shells of light. The inner shell of light was a dull red, the red of iron which has lately been removed from a furnace, and is cooling. The outer shell was blue - a sharp-burning blue which hurt the eyes and made Guest Gulkan think of the sun, and of teeth. (Why teeth? He could not tell, but that outer shell of blue-burning light made him think most decisively of saliva and teeth).
"It is a demon," said the Witchlord Onosh, whose attention was given not to the Great God but to Ungular Scarth. "But it is short for its kind."
"Because," said Guest, heavily, "it is standing in water."
So it was, as Lord Onosh saw a moment later. The demon Ungular Scarth was half-buried in oily sewer waters. For the octagonal chamber in which the demon and the Great God were imprisoned was awash with sewer-water.
Fortunately, a metal grille reached from wall to wall, and looked as if it would allow the intruders to dare the approach to demon and god without getting their feet wet. Guest tested the grille, found that it bore his weight, and advanced to the base of the demon. The grille appeared to have been custom-made, and to have been installed long after the demon took up residence in this octagonal chamber, for the demon rose up from a neatly-edged square hole in that grille.Guest Gulkan glanced down into the oil sewer waters, where hunks of unidentifiable material floated on the surface. The water was still, unmoving, fetid. In the chamber's sullen silence, Guest heard his father's breathing, which was uncommonly labored. He guessed that Lord Onosh was distressed by this place, and found its silence hard to bear.
To break that silence, Guest Gulkan addressed the demon Ungular Scarth.
"I am the Weaponmaster, Guest Gulkan by name," said he. "I am here to rescue the Great God Jocasta in fulfillment of my oath."
"Greetings, Guest Gulkan," says the demon, speaking to him in his native Eparget.
"And to you, greetings," said Guest politely. "Okay, what do we do now?"
"You cut through the fields of force which have trapped my master," said Ungular Scarth.
"Okay then," said Guest.
Then Guest drew his sword, and, striking with all the confidence of a hairy-arsed barbarian who has hacked off more heads than the world has fingers to count, he struck. He hacked with his sword, striking a mighty blow, a blow sufficient for the decapitation of dragons, the rupture of chains, or the lopping off of the limbs of a giant. But that blow availed the Weaponmaster not, for his sword bounced off the bubbles of force as if off the celestial armor of the greater war-gods.
"Gods!" said Guest.
"Come," said Ungular Scarth. "You did but tickle it. You can do better than that."
"Better!" said Guest. "I have struck with force sufficient for the murder of ten men simultaneously."
"Then strike again," said the demon.
So Guest struck. But his metal bounced from the blue-burning force field which imprisoned the Great God Jocasta.
"What are you?" said Ungular Scarth. "Are you a child? I thought you a man!"
At which Guest was enraged, and hacked again at the force field. Again his metal bounced harmlessly from the sphere of force.
"Let me," said Lord Onosh.
Upon which Guest stepped aside, with hot sweat dripping down his forehead - sweat which was consequent upon the combination of exertion and embarrassment.
Lord Onosh hacked at the force field. But, just like his son, the Witchlord made no impression on that blue-burning armor.
"It is too much for us," said Lord Onosh.
Upon which the demon laughed.
; "Ah," said Ungular Scarth, "but what did you expect?"
"We expected to be able to cut it," said Guest, starting to lose his temper. "Iva-Italis told us that steel would be ample for the purpose."
"And you believed my dear friend Italis?" said Ungular Scarth. "Of course you did. For you are but a naive barbarian.
Italis has told me of you. Often. And in detail."
"Naive!" said Guest. "Why am I naive? Am I not your ally? I came to save the Great God!"
"Then save the Great God," said Ungular Scarth.
"How?" said Guest. "We have tried to cut the force field, but we cannot."
"Of course you can't," said Scarth. "For your swords are not metal but wood."
"Wood!" said Guest, in renewed fury. "I'll show you what kind of wood this is!"
Then Guest chopped at the demon Ungular Scarth. But his blade bounced harmlessly from the demon's jade-green flanks.
"Cool yourself," said Scrath. "Cool and calm. Enough of jokes. If you would liberate the Great God Jocasta, then you must first secure a tool which is ample to your purpose. There is a kind of knife. Two specimens are known to me. One is carried by Anaconda Stogirov, the High Priestess of this temple. The other is in the possession of Aldarch the Third, the Mutilator of Yestron.
You will know these knives - "
"Knives!" said Guest. "I was told that a sword - "
"Italis lied," said Sken-Pitilkin. "I suspected as much. I told you so."
"True," said Ungular Scarth. "A sword is useless for the liberation of the Great God. To cut through the force field, you must first procure this special knife of which I have spoken."
"There are two spheres of force," said Guest. "The outer blue and the inner red. Will one knife cut through both?"
"You need only cut through the outer," said Ungular Scarth.
"The shell of blue-burning light was put there by Anaconda Stogirov. It keeps the Great God a prisoner. The inner shell of red light is a field of force which is generated by the Great God itself. That inner shell has preserved the Great God from all attack by the evil Stogirov."
"So the inner shell is armor," said Guest, "and the outer shell a cage."
"Precisely," said Ungular Scarth. "Now if you will but listen, then I will describe to you the knife which you must win to cut through the outer shell. The knife is small. It is curved.
It ends not with a point but with a bead. Stogirov has one, and the Mutilator has the other."
"There are only two?" said Guest.
"There was once a third, a fourth and a fifth," said Ungular Scarth. "But three are lost, and only two remain."
"Very well," said Guest, with some bitterness, realizing he was so deeply embroiled in this adventure that there was no easy way out. "Then tell me. Which of these knives is closest?"
"That which is closest is that which is carried by Anaconda Stogirov," said the demon. "For she dwells nearby."
Then the demon directed Guest Gulkan to her chambers, and so to her chambers the adventurers went. They quit the octagonal chamber which was home to the Great God Jocasta, exiting from that chamber by means of an arch set in its northern wall. The arch admitted them to another black tunnel, a tunnel which terminated in a stairway. Up the stairway they went, expecting to find Stogirov's bedroom at the top.
But they were far from the top when Guest - who was in the lead - unexpectedly stepped on a man who was sleeping on the stairs. Guest tripped, and went down. The man awoke with a bellow, and his bellow woke a dozen of his fellows.
Were these sleeping men guards, petitioners or exhausted lovers of the evil Stogirov? Guest had no time to ask, for the men did not stand still for questioning. Rather, they drew weapons and attacked the adventurers.
Such was the disorder of the dark that the men who guarded the stairs were soon hacking at each other in their blindness, while the adventurers tumbled back down the stairs.
"I am wounded," gasped the Witchlord Onosh.
And Guest Gulkan saw it was true. His father had been sorely wounded in the gut. Pain was clearly writ on his face, and Guest doubted him able to run.
"Guest," said Zozimus, speaking with harsh directness. "We must run. If your father cannot run with us, then you must make a choice."
"You could choose to put him in a time pod," said Thayer Levant.
"In a time pod?" said Guest, in amazement.
"Why not?" said Levant. "He'll be perfectly safe there."
"Your servant Levant speaks with good reason," said the demon Ungular Scarth. "Nobody in Obooloo has a ring apt for the opening and closing of these pods, not to my knowledge. Look! To your left! The pod nearest the exiting archway is empty!"
"It is best," said Lord Onosh, scarcely able to speak because of the pain of his wound. "I can hardly stand, far less walk."
So Guest took the ring of ever-ice which hung from a chain round his father's neck, and with that ring he opened an empty time pod. Zozimus and Sken-Pitilkin helped the Witchlord into the pod, then Guest used the same ring to seal it.
Upon which the men who had surprised them on the stairs started to pour into the octagonal chamber.
"Scarth!" bellowed Guest. "Kill them!"
So saying, Guest gestured dramatically at the men who were pouring into the chamber. Such was the drama of the Weaponmaster's gesture that the ring of ever-ice escaped his hand. Still strung on its metal chain, it flew through the air, clittered to the steel grille, slipped through, slished into the oily depths of pungent sewerage, and was gone.
"Pox!" swore Guest.
As if commanded by this Word, the demon Ungular Scarth lashed the air with tentacles of quick-slicing green. But the chamber was too large for the demon's tentacles to command the whole of it, and Guest and his companions were soon sorely oppressed by their attackers.
"Go!" yelled Ungular Scarth.
Taking the hint, the adventurers began to retreat down the tunnel by which they had first penetrated to the Great God's chamber. They retreated through the darkness to the central courtyard which contained the Burning Pit.
"Your airship!" said Guest to Sken-Pitilkin.
"It was not made for ascent," said Sken-Pitilkin. "It was but a crude device made to let us float downwards. We cannot escape."
"Not by that means," said Pelagius Zozimus. "So let us try our strength in combat!"
"Which way to the Temple's outer gate?" said Guest.
"How would I know?" said Zozimus.
"The gate to the Temple of Blood is on the southern side," said Thayer Levant.
Since a few lights shone atop the great rock Achaptipop, and since Guest Gulkan knew that great rock to lie to the north of the Temple of Blood, it was the work of a moment to determine which way was south.
An archway on the southern side of the Temple's central courtyard gave the adventurers access to yet another tunnel, and by dint of the speed of their feet and the bloody commitment of their swords, they shortly found themselves out on the streets of Obooloo.
"Which way now?" said Guest Gulkan.
"How would I know?" said Pelagius Zozimus in extreme irritation, somehow presuming that this generalized question had been addressed specifically to him.
"Now," said Thayer Levant, "we must make for Achaptipop. This way!"
Levant knew Obooloo intimately, since he had been there so often in the past with Plandruk Qinplaqus. And Guest Gulkan, who had initially thought Levant to be the most useless member of their party, was swiftly changing his opinion, and was now more inclined to think Levant likely the most useful of their number.
But the adventurers found the way to Achaptipop was barred against them. For alarm-trumpets blown on the heights of the Temple of Blood had already roused a great number of soldiers into the streets, and roadblocks had been thrown up, dividing Obooloo into a number of small areas between which communication was impossible.
Finding themselves trapped in a small area of the city, and surely doomed to be discovered by search parties, Guest Gulkan and his
companions turned again to Thayer Levant, and asked for direction.
"I think," said Levant, "that only one recourse remains to us, and that is to make our way to the House of Conceded Sacrifice, which lies nearby."
"The House of Conceded Sacrifice?" said Guest. "That sounds ominous."
"It is," said Levant. "For it is a place where people go to die, and death is the only way to leave it."
This scarcely sounded inviting, but the inhospitality of the city was such that, in the end, Guest Gulkan and his companions had no alternative but to accept Levant's advice, and to consign themselves to the House of Conceded Sacrifice.
Chapter Thirty-Three
House of Conceded Sacrifice: an institution in Obooloo which has the legal right to offer unassailable protection to all and sundry - for a price. It is nominally devoted to the worship of the Experimental Frog (also known as the Missing Frog, the Mouth of Blood, Our Great Lord Hosjabajaba, and as Jolatarba the Gourmet). Once refugees run out of money they are invariably dissected, their dissection being dedicated to the greater glory of the said Frog.
So it was that Guest Gulkan and his comrades escaped from the Temple of Blood and surrendered themselves to the House of Conceded Sacrifice, where they were received with the traditional courtesy extended to all who sought that refuge.
Night was almost done by the time the adventurers were safe in that refuge. Then came the dawn, bringing the familiar sun, the familiar sky. Yet despite the renewal of sun and sky, Guest Gulkan felt as if the world had been turned upside down.
The Weaponmaster had firmly expected that by now he would have been a wizard, and the honored ally of a liberated Great God, with the world at his feet, and enough strength at his command to allow him to crush the greatest of his enemies beneath the pad of the smallest toe of his left foot.
Instead, Guest had failed utterly. The Great God and its demons had been proved to be lairs. Guest's father had been sorely wounded, and was now imprisoned in the unchanging stasis of a time pod inside the Temple of Blood. The ring which commanded that time pod had been lost to a pool of sewage inside the Temple of Blood.