Place: Penvash, a squat peninsular some 300 leagues long projecting from north-west corner of Argan.
Intelligent inhabitants: green-skinned river people known as Melski; small, elusive fox-furred animals known as foddens; the people of Lorp (a small human enclave on the south-west coast of Penvash).
Geography: an upthrust wilderness of snow mountains, forested hills, cliffs, gorges, streams, waterfalls, torrents, rapids and rivers, most watercourses feeding at last into Lake Armansis, from where the Hollern River flows south out of Penvash and into the land of Estar.
They came upon the door toward evening. It was set in the side of a mountain, with half a league of broken road leading up to it. Stone animals, their features blurred by weather as though they had been made out of soap, flanked the last stretch of the road.
The door was elephant-high, but not elephant-grey, being made out of incorruptible white metal. While Walrus and Warwolf examined it, their followers kept a prudent distance, huddling down with backs to the wind.
'This here is muff,' said Jon Disaster, scraping a little frozen snow off a patch of bare earth.'Muff,' said Drake.
He remembered – it seemed a long, long time ago – seeing muff at a distance from the deck of the Warwolf. Aye. Down in the Drangsturm Gulf, when their
ship had been anchored by Island Tor. Wild days, yes . . . the golden skins of the Ling … his nights of passion with the golden people … the Neversh he had beheaded with his sword . . .
Belatedly he remembered he had never actually enjoyed the flesh of one of the golden people. Nor had he really decapitated the Neversh. But he had so often boasted about both those accomplishments that it was difficult to remember the truth of the matter.
Curious about muff, he stole some from the earth. Like quartz, it came in crystals – only these were a bitter cold, and softened to nothing at the touch. He tried eating it, but sharp pains in his teeth made him spit it out. While he knew by now that ordinary poisons had little effect on him, snow might be different, for it surely must be magical in its nature.'There's not much of this muff around,' said Drake.
'Oh, there'll be regular falls of it soon enough,' said Jon Disaster. 'It's late enough in the year, and we've climbed cold enough.'
'Yes,' said Rolf Thelemite. 'I warrant it can get bitter enough at these heights. Bitter as the Breathings, no doubt.''Breathings?' asked Drake.
'Aye,' said Thelemite, watching Mulps and Arabin push open the great big metal door. 'What are these Breathings?' asked Drake. 'They-'
Thelemite broke off as the door slammed shut with an almighty great boom.
'Hell's grief and whore pox!' said Raggage Pouch. 'That's loud enough to drum up fifty dead men's widows for last year's army.'They stared at the door at length, but it did not open.'Mayhap they're dead,' said Ika Thole.
'Aye,' said Burpskin. 'I said no good would come of fiddling through the mountains.'Ish Ulpin, without a word, got to his feet. He strode forward. Bucks Cat and Whale Mike followed. The three swaggered to the door, then pushed it open. When Walrus and Warwolf emerged alive, the others chanced themselves forward. Beyond the door lay a tunnel.
'The door doesn't open from the inside,' said Arabin. 'Then we'll not go into it,' said Ika Thole, 'or we'll be trapped.'
'No,' said Drake. 'We can stay outside and freeze to death. Some choice!'
'We'll prop the door open with rocks,' said Arabin. 'That's safest.'
'Aye,' said Rolf Thelemite. 'Then send scouts ahead to see how the innards fare. I'd say this place guts right through the mountain.'
'I'd say it must,' said Arabin. 'Otherwise we're dead men. And I say, too, no scouting parties. We're dying on our feet as it is. Time is life, man. If there's no way through, we're likely all dead anyway. So let's push on.'
After much argument, they piled up rocks to jam the door open, then dared the tunnel. It was cobbled with red and green stones and lit by millions and millions of pinpoints of white light built into roof and walls.
They had not gone very far down this square-cut shaft when there was a grating sound behind. Turning, they saw the door was closing. As they raced back, the door crushed the rocks, sealing the tunnel mouth. Panting, they hammered against the door.
The door boomed like a sullen drum as the men attacked it. Echoes waded away down the tunnel, crashing from side to side as they went.'Give, you ganch!' screamed Drake in panic, kicking it.
'Easy, man,' said Arabin, his own pulse slowly subsiding. 'We'll not break metal with muscle.'And Drake, at length, abandoned the attack.
'Grief!' said Simp Fiche, picking up a handful of fragments from the shattered rocks. 'What kind of rocks were we using?'
'Rocks solid enough,' said Ish Ulpin, giving the door one last kick.'We're trapped,' said Ike Thole bleakly.
'We trapped with friends,' said Whale Mike, in a voice which was meant to be encouraging. 'That something, anyway.'
Drake, remembering the invisible door he had found in the Wishing Tower in Ling, hunted around for a cause-and-effect panel. But found no such thing.
'Well, we're bound on our journey now,' said Jon Arabin, 'whether we like it or not.''We don't like it!' said Burpskin.
'Aye, then that'll encourage us to step out smartly-like,' said Jez Glane.
They walked for a long time, pushing past three more doors. Each closed behind them with an enormous echo-raising crash. Then they came to a stream which ran in through a gaping hole on one side of the tunnel and out through an equally dark and ominous hole on the other, leaving fifty paces of the tunnel (which dipped slightly at that point) almost knee-deep in water.
'I'm weary,' said Arabin, 'and I'm thinking this is as good a place to camp as any.'
'Aye,' said Mulps. 'We could all of us use some sleep, that's for sure.'
Nobody argued. They quenched their thirst then settled to sleep. Drake dreamed of his trip to Ling, of the Neversh he had fought on the deck of the Warwolf, of a gold-skinned woman hot in passion. . . of a sea-maid wet within his arms, cold kelp slicked across her delta.
He woke with water lapping round his boots: the stream was rising.
'Rain outside,' said Arabin. 'Heavy rain, by the looks. Better push on, before the whole place floods.' On they went.
Drake, footsore and weary, lagged behind the others, with Sully Yot at his side. Was the tunnel endless? To while away the march, he made his amulet begin its recitation.
'What's that?' asked Yot, fascinated by the low-murmuring voice issuing from the fancy little object, which he had never seen before.
'Ah, this!' said Drake. 'It's from a Wishing Tower in the land of the Ling. A hot journey I had to get there, too. Fifty leagues across the barrens, with no water. I would have starved, man, except I had a crossbow with me.''A crossbow?'
'A shooting weapon. Man, how long have you been a pirate? Don't you know anything?''How can a shooting weapon get you water?' said Yot.
'I shot vultures from the pink skies – aye, don't look at me like that, man, the sky runs pink when you get that far south – then I drank their blood. Then I had five fights and a devil of a bruising going hand-to-hand with a pack of Guardian Machines. Fierce with fire they were, with whips about them tipped with burning suns.''Yet you survived?'
'Nay, I died, but was resurrected by some South-searchers after the manner of those parts. Thanks to them, I got back with treasure as well as sunburn – good stuff, gold, silver, diamonds big as a fist. And talking amulets like this one, five hundred of them. But I lost all at Narba, was set on by a knuckle-gang, yes. I killed twenty, but that was precious little use to me in the end. They got all but this single amulet, which holds the key to some awesome magic if we could but get the understanding of it.'
'You must have had powerful assistance from somewhere or something,' said Yot, seriously. 'Maybe . . . maybe it was the Demon who was with you, you being his son and all.'
'Ah, man, I'm not so sure about the Demon these days,' said Drake. 'Not since Carawell, no.''Why, what happened at Carawell?'
'You were there, remember? At the castle, Brazlehoist wasn't it? Or was it Borabiz?'
'No, the castle was Biltungsgraft,' said Yot. 'If it's the same place we're talking about. I mean the old place in the sands where the locals held Warwolf captive, thinking him ambassador from Hexagon.''Aye, that's the place,' said Drake.
In point of fact, the castle had been called Bildungs-grift, and the locals had not thought Jon Arabin to be an ambassador from Hexagon – they had thought him Baron Farouk in person.'That's where I got burnt by lightning,' said Yot.'Aye'There's something to tell about that, is there?' 'There is indeed,' said Drake.
As they walked along, Drake told of calling on the Flame ('-meaning no harm by it, mind-') and of a Flame, a pillar of fire, manifesting itself, knocking Yot unconscious when he tried embracing it, and causing the locals such fear that they shortly fled.
'So it is real, after all!' said Yot, his faith restored. 'Why did you never talk of this before?'
'I tried once, man, but you weren't in the mood or something;''Will you . . . will you convert to the Flame, then?'
'Well,' said Drake, grudgingly, 'I've tried the Demon serious-hard, and he's failed me. I never thought much of Gouda Muck, I'll tell you that honest. But this Flame business . . . there's no disputing what I've seen. There's just one thing. I'm no Demon's son. I'll tell you that for true. The Demon wouldn't let his own son go without the pleasures of drink, would he now?'
'But you drink!' said Yot. 'You're famous for it! And, man, you've got a reputation for a hard head – but I've seen you drunk myself.''Ah,' said Drake. 'Therein lies a tale.'
And he told Yot all his woes and tribulations concerning alcohol.
T might as well be drinking pig's blood or seaweed soup,' concluded Drake. 'It does no good for me.'
'You're right,' said Yot. 'You can't be the Demon's son. I'llgrantyouthat – if you now grant the truth of the Flame.''Aye,' said Drake. 'That I do.'
And with that believed himself a true worshipper. But he was not. For he had already denied two of the basic tenets of Goudanism:that Gouda Muck is, always has been and always will be infallible in His pronouncements on all things, since He is one and the same as the Flame, which is the High God of All Gods; andthat Dreldragon Drakedon Douay is the son of the Demon, incarnated in man-flesh that he may act as an Agent of Ultimate Evil.
The pair shortly denied a third basic tenet, concerning the vital necessity of proselytizing all possible converts at every opportunity – for Drake convinced Yot that such action would only persuade the short-tempered half-starved pirates to kill them and eat them.'I've talked to them before of the Flame,' said Yot.
'Aye,' said Drake. 'In better times. Doubtless then they forgot each word as you said it. This time we'd not be so lucky. They'd eat us.'
'Well/ said Yot, doubtfully, 'I suppose doctrine must bend to circumstance!''Indeed it must,' said Drake.
Thus the pair discovered the true philosophical basis of conventional religion.
'Gouda Muck has a new convert,' said Drake. 'That should make him happy, when he hears about it.'
But Drake was not a true convert to the fanatical faith of Goudanism, and Yot was no longer a true follower.They were both heretics.
Did Drake's lust for Zanya Kliedervaust have something to do with his new-found faith in the Flame?
Yot soon began to suspect that it did, for Drake began inquiring about missionary work, and his chances of maybe teaming up with someone who had gone to make converts in foreign parts.
'Wait till you've mastered doctrine before talking of missionary work,' said Yot.
To help win Yot's confidence, and to show trust, Drake shared with him the story of the meal of rats and cockroaches he had once cooked for Mulps and Arabin. But Yot did not soften. In fact, his attitude hardened: he again raised the question of making converts.
'I'll do a deal with you,' said Drake. 'If you wait till we all get some decent food in our bellies, I'll guard your flank when you first try preaching to one of this mob. We'd better try Whale Mike first.''Why?'said Yot.
'Because he's a nice guy,' said Drake. 'He'll take it the right way.'
'And he owes you, right?' said Yot. 'Because of the food you shared in the pit.'
Drake frankly thought he was owed nothing for that. If he had not been so selfish to start with, they would all have eaten much sooner.
What Drake really thought was that Whale Mike was too stupid to possibly understand anything Yot said about the Flame, therefore couldn't possibly be offended by it.In truth, what did Drake believe?Did he believe in the Flame?
Well, sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't. His belief was at a very delicate state, and it would take very little to tip the balance of belief either one way or the other.