"Boy? I am no boy!" the youngster said with surprising dignity and weight of authority in his voice. "I am Tharizdun, the Emperor of All — at least," he went on less forcefully, "I am meant to be someday when I become grown,".
"Gellor?" Gord said meaningfully.
"I see only the lad," the troubador said, but he sounded uncertain.
"I find neither lies nor deep evil here," Leda volunteered. She too was using her own powers to determine if they were being deluded by magic.
Gord looked carefully at the prisoner and the place he had been held fast. The tower room was about forty feet across and furnished as would be a lord's solar or office, perhaps. There was a couch, table and chairs, a small shelf of bound books, a few decorative things, and both candle prickets and dweomered lamps for illumination. The blue of adamantite lined the walls, he noted, unseamed and smooth. The metal barred the three windows that pierced the wall, and some bluish crystalline stuff closed the spaces between the thick adamantite bars. The upholstery, rugs, and tapestries were all finely made and costly, though not so exceptional as some examples Gord had seen. Even the boys apparel was thus, rich but not unique. "Who are your parents, then?" Gord asked sharply.
"I have neither father or mother — at least, none I know of." the lad said slowly, as if hating to admit that.
Gellor stepped nearer to the small boy, peering down at him quizzically. "But you are Tharizdun? You are ruler of the cosmos?"
"I am Tharizdun." the youth averred, "and Emperor To Be of all the multiverse."
"What is the multiverse?" Leda asked him suddenly.
"It's . . . I . . . well. . . just everything! This castle, the mountains around, even the sky, I suppose. . . ."
"Come on, then, Emperor Tharizdun," Gord ordered, pointing to the curving flight of steps that led to a higher room of the tower. "Show us the remainder of your apartment."
"It is a prison," the lad contradicted crossly. "And where did you get my ring?" he said in an imperious tone, pointing at Gord's outstretched hand with the adamantite circlet on his index finger showing plainly.
"Never mind that now, boy," Gord snapped. He was very uneasy and not sure how to proceed. He was the champion, the one to fight a duel to the death with the ultimate Evil one, Tharizdun. But he could slay this boy with a single cut of Courflamme. Something was wrong, deadly wrong. "Lead us above."
Frowning, feet shuffling noticeably, the imperial youngster did as he was told. The chamber above was furnished as a dining salon with banners, armor, and ancient-looking weapons used as decorations. The whole of it, celling, walls, floor, was also sheathed in the azure of purest adamantite. Gord paused to tap the panes that closed the windows here as below. The clear crystal was adamantite dweomered to be transparent!
Leda, meanwhile, stepped up to the small boy and took his face between her hands, the obsidian of her skin sharply contrasting with the whiteness of Tharizdun's pallor. "Who attends you here? How do you receive food, drink fresh clothing?"
The lad looked at her with evident puzzlement. "Attends? No one has been here for a long, long time. I had servants of all kinds — even knights and councilmen with long beards. Then ugly and horrid things came. Everyone who served me was killed or ran away. I tried to hide from the beasts, but they caught me. I was carried up to this place and thrown inside."
"And food? wine?"
"Look" the lad calling himself Tharizdun said with a smile as he pulled free from Leda and ran to the long, narrow table. There he snatched up a ewer, proceeding to fill a half-dozen large goblets of crystal that stood next to the container. First golden liquid flowed into the goblets, then deep ruby wine, and finally clear water. "It pours whatever I think of, and when I am tired of a vessel being full, the contents simply go away." From there he went to a golden bowl filled with exotic fruits. "When I take any of these old things away, another just like it appears — langon, nollip, dewfruit. naberries, plums — it doesn't matter. The loaves of bread are always fresh and whole on the morning for my breakfasting, cream and butter here," he told Leda as he moved around the board, "salt and porridge and all manner of other stuff I am tired of seeing!"
"I see," Gord intoned as he watched the youth. "Now lead us higher, please."
"Very well," the boy said with a smile that was warm and friendly again. Then a slight frown creased his brow. "I don't like being ordered about, you know. When I am Emperor nobody will do that, but I suppose until then you can. After all, you three are nobles, and the most favored in all my realm, because you have saved me. Come on!" Tharizdun ran up the stairs with boyish vigor and glee. "My bedchamber and playthings are above!"
It was Just as the lad claimed. The room above was slightly smaller than the one below, but it too was sheathed in the pale blue metal. A royal-looking bed, armoire, chest of drawers, and shelves were there. Two large chests and several smaller ones too helped to make the chamber a clutter. Toys were lying about — a wooden sword and shield, figures of soldiers and mounted knights, and a score of other things that a young prince might have to play with. The bed was neatly made, however, and there were no garments strewn about. "Who is your valet?" Gellor queried, knowing it was impossible for a boy alone to be so neat.
"That bed and my clothes are like everything except my toys," the lad said, dismissing the subject.
"Meaning?" Gord pressed.
"The linens on the bed are always fresh and smooth, and it makes itself immediately when I climb out of it. I jump in and out again sometimes when I'm bored, Just to see it happen. Each day when I get out of bed there is a big basin of water for me to climb in and bathe. If I don't do that, then there's no food downstairs," Tharizdun added, evidently recalling a rebellious failure. "There's always a change of underlinen too, and fresh robes and hose, and all that". He brightened. "What would you like to play? I have games which I'm sure grownups play — quoits, even chess!" There was eagerness filling his voice, and he began rooting through his belongings in search of the games.
"Perhaps later." Gord said. "What lies above? I see a ladder and trapdoor there."
"Oh, that is my observatory. From there I can see all the lands around. I don't like it there, though, for it is boring."
"Go up the ladder, boy," Gord instructed. "We will all observe what's to be seen up there." Tharizdun actually scowled at the command, but he put aside the things he was pulling forth and clambered up the bronze rungs of the ladder. Above was a conicalroofed space, the top of the turret. It was covered all over with the same adamantite armoring, and where there were spaces between the merlons of the thick battlement, the clear metal formed a barrier. "There is little to see, actually," Gord noted, looking at the lad.
"Just the mountains all around, the road, mists everchanging below, clouds in a million forms above." He sat down with dejection on the low step of the dais-like disc that filled the center of the place as if to provide a circling bench for all who would come to the place to look out. "At least your coming has made this place a little warmer!"
"It certainly is very cold up here," Leda said with a little shiver. "Can we go back below?"
"Yes, Gord," Gellor agreed. "Leda is right. It's too chill and damp here for us or the boy. Let's consider what's to be done where it's warmer."
A touch made Gord withdraw his hand from the stone seat. "This still sends forth waves of cold as the ice did. The mass of stone here must have absorbed the chill and not yet warmed as the remainder of the castle seems to have done. Very well, we can climb back down now. There is nothing further to see."
Gellor and Leda went back down the ladder, then Gord sent the boy scrambling below. He came last, closing the trapdoor to keep out the bitter air from the observatory above. The lad had wasted no time, and Tharizdun was again rummaging around in his great boxes, tossing out things to amuse his guests and himself. "Here's the chessboard — the pieces are in that box under my bed! Let's play for a wager."
"And what stakes do you think appropriate?" the bard asked casually.
The boy drew out a large metal casket as well as the smaller box that he had indicated as the receptacle of his chess pieces. "I have lots of these stones," Tharizdun said as he flipped the coffer lid up. "I'll stake all the ones of blue color against your ring," he said, heaping a handful of moonstones and bluewhite opals into a small mound as he pointed to Gord. "Or else I can play with these amber-colored ones against his," Tharizdun said as he pointed at Gellor, "or else the pearls for the dark lady's ring."
"I thought you said that the ring I wear belonged to you already?" Gord queried softly.
"Of course. Didn't you understand? I am to be Emperor of everything, so everything is mine. I don't want to be mean, though. That is base. Nobles can have things, and if I want them, the nobles have to give them to me as gifts of their own free will, or else I can win them."
"Who told you that?" Leda asked.
"All you three do is ask questions! Let's play a game or two, and then I think I'll want to leave here."
Leda turned and headed down to the chamber below. "You two play against the boy if you like," she called over her shoulder as she went. "I am hungry and thirsty. Can I bring you some food when I come back? Or will you join me?"
The boy scowled, but neither Gord nor Gellor was inclined to follow. "Have a care with the stuff, girl," the troubador advised. "It might . . . you know!"
"I am not so naive as not to test for toxins, Gellor,"
Leda said as she disappeared. "I'll be back . . . ." and her voice trailed off as she moved out of earshot.
"All right, sonny boy." Gellor said as he turned from the stairs to where Tharizdun selfproclaimed stood awaiting. "I will play at chess with you."
The ring you have for these few gems?" the youth asked, pointing at the heap of fifty or sixty large amber and tiger's-eye stones he had mounded to one side.
Before the bard could respond to that, Gord stepped forward and stood between his comrade and the boy. "Wait a moment, please. On your own word, lad, I was given the challenge to play first. Before you can test the bard's skill at the game, you must defeat me."
"Oh, yes," the lad said, brightening at the prospect of an eager opponent "You first, sir rescuer, then the man with the funny eye. Perhaps by then the night lady will wish to have a game, too."
"I am Gord, he is Gellor, and the lady with ebon complexion is Leda. Now, what is the wager again?"
The blue ring you have, sir, against all of my azure stones."
"Let us begin," Gord affirmed, reaching for pieces to place on the board. "I enjoy this pastime." The game was similar to the dragonchess form that the young champion had first played against the Catlord. Twelve squares across, eight deep, with a lower board that the boy pronounced the netherboard, and an upper one he called the astral, to make three fields in all. Spirals stood as posts at the four corners, and each was also a checkered path that wound from the lowest board to the middle and on up to the highest. There were four steps to each successive plane.