Name: Vernon Brigadoon Sod (aka Banker Sod).
Birthplace: Latimore (a small town near Chi'ash-lan).
Occupation: merchant banker.
Status: Owner of the Morgrim Bank of Chi'ash-lan; claimant to the Safrak Bank; sometime Governor of the Partnership Banks; owner of the wondrous Pazabantsen mansion (most notable building in all of Chi'ash-lan); father of the voluptuous Damsel.
Description: florid male of iceman race, with the black fingernails and thick white bodyhair so typical of that breed.
Hair, eyes and teeth all similarly yellow.
Hobby: breeding snails.
Quote: "The world's one great hidden secret is that we live in a great Age of Agiotage. This is the real significance of the Circle of the Doors."
The conspirators required a night of cloud and fog, something they could not wish into being by mere force of will alone. The right conditions first came some five nights after the banquet which had greeted the return of Witchlord and Weaponmaster to the island of Alozay.
With a night of cloud and fog having been secured to their satisfaction, the conspirators gathered in the banquet hall in Dolce Obo, the Pillow Stratum of the mainrock Pinnacle. In that great gloom, they confirmed their federation. Sken-Pitilkin had a stickbird airship waiting on the Palace Docks of Alozay. The wizard of Skatzabratzumon, accompanied by Ontario Nol and Eljuk Zala, would fly the airship to the heights.
As a wizard of Itch, Ontario Nol had powers to command the winds, and Nol's ability to summon up a miniature tornado or a minor whirlwind could conceivably prove useful if things went wrong and they found themselves locked in outright battle with Shabble.
With those three confirmed in their roles, they departed, going downward toward the Winch Stratum, where bribed washerwomen were waiting to lower them to the docks where Sken-Pitilkin's stickbird waited.
For his part, the Witchlord Onosh would play no active role in the assault on Shabble. Rather, he would withdraw and wait.
Once the star-globe had been stolen, Lord Onosh would stay on Alozay and play at being innocent. If Shabble chose to remain on the island even with the star-globe gone, why then, Lord Onosh would accept Shabble's authority.
But if Shabble left the island, then Lord Onosh would seize power – easy enough to do, since everyone on the island was loyal to him but for a few bandits such as Yilda and Uckermark who gave their allegiance to Shabble.
"Unfortunately," said Lord Onosh, "I do not think it wise to barbecue this Uckermark, or pull his teeth out one by one, lest Shabble hear of it and one day take revenge. But you can be assured that his authority will cease the moment the bubble flees this realm!"
"Yes," said Guest. "All well and good. But remember that Yilda has my ring! Don't let her swallow it!"
"I won't," said Lord Onosh. "I'll make very sure I get hold of that ring."
It had already been agreed amongst the conspirators that the star-globe would not return to Alozay until three years had passed. That should prove long enough for Shabble to lose interest in the island and depart.
Banker Sod had insisted on accompanying the star-globe into exile, hence was to accompany the raiding party which would shortly venture upstairs to steal treasure from Shabble.
"You realize," said Lord Onosh, who did not trust Banker Sod any further than he trusted the demon Italis, "that if you do not return at the end of three years, then I will execute your daughter Damsel."
"I know it," said Sod.
Sod had pledged his daughter Damsel as a hostage – without consulting that young woman on the matter.
That, then, was the plan.
The star-globe would be stolen, and carried far from Alozay, and kept away from that island for three years. To safeguard the star-globe, those who stole it would not decide upon their place of exile until three years had passed. That way, even if Shabble interrogated Lord Onosh, the Witchlord would not be able to say where the star-globe had gone to.
At the end of three years, with Shabble having departed – back to Port Domax and its Temple of the Holy Cockroach, or back to Untunchilamon perhaps – Sken-Pitilkin would return the star- globe to Alozay by stickbird, and the Circle of the Partnership Banks would once more be reopened.
With all confirmed, Lord Onosh took himself off to his bed – not to sleep, but to worry.
That left three. Sken-Pitilkin, Ontario Nol and Eljuk Zala Gulkan had gone downwards to the docks of Alozay. All going right, they should have claimed Sken-Pitilkin's stickbird already, and have lofted the thing to the air. Lord Onosh had taken himself off to bed.
So the only people left in the banqueting hall were those who were going to tackle Shabble head on head: the Weaponmaster Guest Gulkan, his faithful servant Thayer Levant, and Banker Sod of Chi'ash-lan.
"Well," said Guest, uneasily. "Let's get on with it."
Then, with Thayer Levant lighting the way with two lanterns carried on a bablobrokmadorni stick – an implement unknown on Alozay until it had been imported by some of the piratical refugees from Untunchilamon – they made their way upward through the mainrock. As they went, Guest Gulkan worried. In particular, he worried about Sod, and the difficulties of guarding against Sod's treachery for three long years of exile.
And where would they spend that exile?
The idea of not deciding on a destination until they had quit Alozay was a good one. It secured them against accidental betrayal. But it also made Guest profoundly unsettled not to know where he would spend the next three years.
Where could they go?
Galsh Ebrek? Possibly, but rumors from Galsh Ebrek reached Port Domax by way of trade. Ashmolea? A highly civilized place, by all accounts, but also another place which traded with Port Domax.
Dalar ken Halvar? Too dangerous, since Shabble knew that Witchlord and Weaponmaster had lately been in that city. Drangsturm? Sken-Pitilkin could go nowhere near Drangsturm, since he was a renegade wanted by the Confederation of Wizards. Sken-Pitilkin's home island, then? No, for Shabble would surely think to seek for the wizard of Drum on the island of Drum. What about Chi'ash-lan itself? Too dangerous, for it would put them in Sod's power.
So where? Sken-Pitilkin seemed so confident that he would be able to hide in a place beyond Shabble reach that Guest was slowly coming to the conclusion that the wizard of Skatzabratzumon intended to fly them to Argan South, and land them in the terror-lands of the Deep South, those wastelands which were commanded by the monsters of the Swarms.
He did not like that idea at all.
Revolving such complexities in his mind, Guest Gulkan walked as rearguard behind Sod and Thayer Levant as they quit Dolce Obo, the Pillow Stratum, home to the mainrock's living quarters.
Quitting Dolce Obo, they ventured upward through the office layer of Inic Obo, the enforcement layer of Brondon Obo and the paper-storage layer of Trilip Obo. At Trilip Obo, they paused for long enough to set fire to the outer wooden staircase which led upwards to the weirding room. Then they took the inner stairway which led upwards from Trilip Obo to Zi Obo, the Pod Stratum.
Zi Obo had but the single room, this being the Hall of Time.
As the three made their way across the skull-pattern tiles to the stairway at the eastern end of the Hall of Time, Guest Gulkan was not at all sure whether the demon Iva-Italis would allow them to pass. If not, their plan would be doomed to failure, for they had already set fire to the wooden outer stairs which connected Trilip Obo with the weirding room of the Safrak Bank.
But Iva-Italis maintained a glow-worm's silence, and allowed them to pass without challenge or comment.
As they went up the stairs, Guest Gulkan took the lead, with Sod and Thayer Levant falling behind. At the head of the stairs, the Weaponmaster halted, and surveyed the weirding room of the Safrak Bank, which was lit by a lantern hung from the very arch of the Door itself. On the floor of the weirding room, Shabble was sleeping, nestled beside the star-globe, like a kitten at sleep beside a sister-kitten.
While sleeping, Shabble dreamed. Dreaming, the immortal bubble changed color, glowing first silver then gold. A fragmentary image of sleek-sea depths brightened on Shabble's surface. A dolphin flashed across the sea then shattered to diamonds. The diamonds fell, tinkling sharply as they burst to a brightness of blood. The blood darkened. Shabble darkened. Became black blood. Black opal. Coral black in the night-dark depths of a whale-belly sea.
In darkness, Shabble was silent. Guest Gulkan found the spectacle of this dreaming Shabble aroused in his soul a delicate sense of wonder. But Banker Sod was dead to the minor enchantments of this spectacle-in-miniature. Sod most certainly had a soul of his own – though the asset in question was mortgaged three times over to the tutelary gods of Chi'ash-lan – but there was no seat for a sense of wonder in the frosty iron from which the dourness of that soul had been forged.
Banker Sod was a banker indeed, banker in blood and banker in bone, and when Sod saw the Shabble asleep with the star-globe he wailed:
– Loss loss loss loss loss!
While Shabble slept, the Doors were denied to the Banks, and while the Banks were banned from the Circle they could not proceed with the transit of chocolate and opals from Dalar ken Halvar, of Stokos steel from the Orsay Bank, of leeches from Wen Endex and silk from Tang, of rice from Voice, of snow and ice from Chi'ash- lan. Sod's commercial sense was geared up to accommodate the intricacies of contractual order, so Sod could not begin to encompass the calculations necessary to assess the financial devastation wrought by Shabble's piratical irresponsibility.
As Sod calculated – despite the impossibility of the task, he could not keep himself from trying – smoke from the burning staircase began to fill the room.
As the room started to fill with choking smoke, Thayer Levant cocked his crossbow. Then Levant lay down – carefully, for his crossbow had a hairtrigger, and could easily be set off by accident – and loaded the crossbow with a quarrel. Levant lay flat, and took aim at Shabble, lining up Shabble with one of the open floor-to-ceiling windows which connected the weirding room with the night of fog and clouds outside.
Then Levant fired, unleashing a blunt-tipped quarrel which went hurtling in Shabble's direction.
The quarrel smashed into Shabble.
Shabble was slammed across the room and knocked through the nearest arched window.
"Go!" yelled the Weaponmaster.
Sod charged across the room, grabbed the star-globe, then rushed to the window. Guest Gulkan followed, as did Levant. Levant gave a piercing whistle. In response to that whistle, Sken-Pitilkin's airship swooped down. Guest, Sod and Levant joined Sken-Pitilkin, Eljuk and Ontario Nol in Sken-Pitilkin's stickbird. Sken-Pitilkin took the starglobe into his own hands – for he thought Sod an unreliable custodian of such a treasure – then sent his stickbird whirling to the skies.
As Sken-Pitilkin and his passengers climbed toward the heights, there glowed in the fog behind them an arc of fire, an arc which marked the wrath of the burning of the exterior stairway built out from the side of the mainrock Pinnacle.
For Shabble, it was all very confusing. Shabble was happily dreaming, bobbing up and down in seas of silver-sharded dream music, when the world suddenly bucked and buckled, and the bubble of bounce found itself unceremoniously smashed into wakefulness.
"Squa!" squeaked Shabble, in shocked amazement.
The entire world appeared to have unaccountably vanished.
Gone was the mainrock Pinnacle, gone the kitten-friendly company of wishstone and star-globe. Instead, Shabble was lost in a formless blackness-in-grayness-in-blackness, a nothing-in-nothing, a primordial pre-Creation chaos.
The world had ended!
The universe had ceased to be!
Time was at an end, and Shabble had suffered the misfortune of surviving that end!
Shabble had time to think just this:
– Woe!
Then Shabble realized that Shabbleself was falling.
A moment later, the bubble was struck by the slam-shock impact of the Swelaway Sea. The falling bubble hit the waters hard and fast, and plunged deep into the watery darkness.
Lost.
Bewildered.
Utterly confused.
In many ways, Shabble was much smarter than any human, but Shabble had been short-changed in the matter of unreasoned orientation. A human shocked awake in unfamiliar circumstances will orientate itself to new surroundings almost instantaneously.
A cat or dog will do likewise. But Shabble had been designed to run on logic – albeit the logic of a child rather than that of an adult – and hence was poorly equipped to deal with any alogical ellipsis.
And what is more illogical than to go to sleep in a tower and wake to find oneself in water?
– But it is water.
So thought Shabble, still sinking, and still trying to work what had happened and where it was.
– I'm in water.
– I think.
– But what kind of water?
Then Shabble steadied itself. Once stable, Shabble spat out a fireball to mark its place, then let itself sink again. Using the quick-fading fireball as a watermark, Shabble computed the rate of sinkage, deduced the salinity of the water, and pronounced the water fresh.
– I'm in fresh water.
– The Swelaway Sea is fresh not salt.
– So maybe.
– Maybe…
The hard-thinking bubble decided that maybe – indeed, probably – it had been violently displaced from the mainrock
Pinnacle and precipitated into the waters of the Swelaway Sea.
Which meant…
Why, it meant that in all probability someone had attacked poor Shabble with a weapon from the Nexus or the Technic Renaissance. Perhaps a force-shock projector such as a Maverick IV slam-gun.
"Well," said Shabble, loudly, "you're going to pay for that."
Having issued that threat – easy enough to do underwater, since Shabble lacked any mouth or other orifice, and hence could speak as easily to the fishes as the birds – Shabble quested upwards to the surface.
Won the night air.
Spun thrice, to rid itself of excess water.
Then started to climb.
Somewhere out in the fog of the night, a fire was burning, high, high above the water. Shabble sent flame flaring through the baffling fog, fire answering to fire. Then Shabble homed in on the flames, and found the stairway outside the mainrock Pinnacle to be burning.
It had been the hope of the conspirators that Shabble would be confused by the fire, and would waste valuable time in searching the burning stairway for clues as to the loss of the star-globe. But Shabble had lived through much human disorder, and on the grounds of grim experience the bubble of bounce had come to associate arson as a customary and essentially motiveless manifestation of all other forms of disorder.
Therefore, when Shabble saw the stairway burning, Shabble thought thus:
– Oh, the stairway's burning!
And having thus acknowledged the fact, Shabble wasted no further time on it, but instead did a swift-search sprint up and down a quick half-dozen stairways.
The search ended when Shabble dropped down to the Palace Docks of Alozay and found Sken-Pitilkin's stickbird missing. Then Shabble guessed! Then Shabble knew!
The bubble sprinted outwards, whizzed upwards, shot through one of the windows of the Hall of Time, and spun to a hovering halt in the presence of Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, Demon By Appointment to the Great God Jocasta.
"Where's Sken-Pitilkin?" said Shabble. "Him and whoever's with him! Where are they?"
"They are fled by air," said Iva-Italis.
Since Shabble's arrival on Alozay, the quarantine which had previously isolated the demon had ended entirely, and Italis had since made up for lost time. Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis knew much, heard much, guessed much, was nourished in wisdom by spies and informers, and had wit sufficient to deduce what was not told by direct presentation. "They are fled – Sken-Pitilkin, Sod, Levant, Guest Gulkan, and possibly others. They have fled by air, and if you are swift you will catch them."
"Which way have they gone?" said Shabble.
"Seek!" said Iva-Italis. "Seek, seek! For as you bubble in your folly they are cleaning their heels with the moon's doormats."
"The clouds, you mean," said Shabble.
"Of course," said Iva-Italis, indulging in a moment's smug pride. "For I am a poet amongst other things, poetry being – "
But Shabble was gone already.
Through a slit window shot Shabble, slicing with speed toward the north. Then Shabble climbed, and scanned. But all was cloud, impenetrable cloud which hid the thieves who had made off with the star-globe. Shabble blasted fire in all directions. Clouds bloomed red. Water steamed as bolts of Shabble-wrath struck home.
But all was useless, useless, for the night was vast and Shabble but a pinprick lost in that night. Shabble was most upset.
Everything had been going so well! It had been so much fun!
But now -
Shabble returned to Alozay, and in the Hall of Time the bubble of bounce again sought counsel from the demon Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis.
"What's happened, little friend?" said Iva-Italis. "Couldn't you catch them?"
"No," said Shabble. "They got away. Where have they gone?"
"Come closer," said Iva-Italis, "and I'll whisper it in your ear."
"Shabbles don't have ears," said Shabble, keeping well out of reach of Iva-Italis. "Just tell me where they've gone and I'll -
I'll, um – "
"You'll do me a favor," said Iva-Italis.
"Yes!" said Shabble.
"Then," said Iva-Italis, "listen closely, little friend. I don't know for certain where they've gone, but Sken-Pitilkin, you doubtless recall, is not known as the wizard of Drum for nothing."
That was all the clue that Shabble needed. The wrathful bubble promptly launched itself into the night skies, making for the Penvash Channel, for the island of Drum, and for a confrontation with those who had stolen the star-globe.