The Swarms: diverse breeds of monsters which were confined to the south of Argan until the destruction of the flame trench Drangsturm. The Swarms are controlled by an entity known as the Skull of the Deep South. The unfortunate truth is that wizards once awakened the enmity of the Skull when they made an ill- advised and abortive attempt to enslave it; and, in the thousands of years since then, the Skull has harbored a deep-seated hatred of humankind.
At this juncture, the lowlands of Argan's western coast had fallen almost entirely to the occupation of the Swarms. Pockets of exception included Androlmarphos, Hok and Estar.
The seaport city of Androlmarphos, defended by tidal marshlands and by a webwork of rivers, as yet preserved its integrity, and had become home to many wizards. In the mountains of Hok, the former rulers of the Harvest Plains had taken refuge, together with some of their people. In the north of Argan, the province of Estar was guarded by mountains, and a refugee army had mounted a sturdy defense of those mountains, and had so far defeated the Swarms. The defense of Estar automatically protected the uplands of Penvash.
But, by and large, the entire western seaboard of Argan was dominated by the Swarms. On his previous flight to Dalar ken Halvar, that flight which he had made with the Weaponmaster to recover the yellow bottle from Dalar ken Halvar, Sken-Pitilkin had dared a transit due south from Drum, and had overflown the wreckage of Drangsturm, thus crossing Argan at its narrowest point. But he thought the Neversh to be too numerous by now for him to dare a repeat performance of this feat; and he was well aware that the conscious malignity of the Skull of the Deep South had to be added to the sheer numbers of the Neversh when one sought to calculate their danger.
In the center of the continent, the mountainous wastelands were as yet free from the monsters. But that high and desolate continental hinterland was the preserve of dragons. Here we are not talking about sea dragons, those idle and talkative creatures who inhabited Sken-Pitilkin's home island of Drum. No, we are talking about land dragons, those crude and hideous beasts of infinite malignity which have so haunted the imagination of humanity.
Since dragons, unlike the Swarms, lack a coordinating general like the Skull, it happens that dragons have never yet proved a serious danger to the survival of humanity. If a dragon should happen to take up residence in your neighborhood, then its exactions may prove expensive, but the bottom line is that the average dragon does far less damage than the average war, plague, famine or flood; and there is many a region which has stoically gone about its business for generations, despite the informal taxation of that business by one dragon or by a brood of the things.
Nevertheless, Sken-Pitilkin had absolutely no intention of putting himself in the way of a dragon unless he had to; and, on adding the dangers of dragons to the dangers of the Swarms, he decided to shun the continent of Argan entirely, and to chart a passage which would keep him well clear of its shores.
Being thus wary of all winged monsters, Sken-Pitilkin first flew himself and the Weaponmaster north to Lex Chalis, that rock- tip of Tameran where caves still preserved the stone circles in which Guest and Sken-Pitilkin had cooked their fish, their shellfish, their kelp and their lobsters during a long winter's season which they had spent hiding from Shabble.
After resting for a day in that place of unpleasant memories, they flew east toward the island of Ork, eventually arriving there in good order. They were now on the fringes of the Great Ocean of Moana. Imagine Moana to be a box, with Tameran at its top and Argan on its western edge. The island of Ork then lies in the north-west corner of the box.
The eastern side of the box is the continent of Yestron, and the southern side is formed by the continent of Parengarenga. Guest Gulkan and Sken-Pitilkin therefore had to go far, far, far to the south on their way to Dalar ken Halvar.
They made the trip by island-hopping, landing and resting on the islands of Ashmolea and Asral. Their next stop was the Ebrell Islands – of which, the less said the better. This is no place for a thesis detailing the twenty different degrees of stench which can be generated by rotting whale blubber!
From the Ebrells, Sken-Pitilkin flew to Parengarenga, a target so large it was impossible to miss. But, having picked up the coast, how then was the wizard to reach his way to Dalar ken Halvar? That city is, after all, but a speck in the midst of an enormous wasteland. Sken-Pitilkin, who still had occasional nightmares about the crossing of Moana which had seen him miss the island of Untunchilamon entirely, followed the stratagem which had seen him get safely to Dalar ken Halvar on his most recent visit. He took the trouble to scout up and down the coast of Parengarenga till he located one of its few seaports.
All of Parengarenga's seaports are linked by road directly with Dalar ken Halvar, so, having found such a port, Sken-Pitilkin was able to scout down the road for league after weary league, until at last he saw the city of Dalar ken Halvar amidst the red dust of the Plain of Jars.
As one approaches Dalar ken Halvar from the air, the first thing to be seen from a distance is Lake Shalasheen, which lies to the north of the city's center. One might think that the Caps, the city's minor mountains, would be the first thing to catch the eye.
But those lumps of rock, formidable as they are, tend to blend into the landscape of dust, particularly when there is a wind to stir that dust to a haze. It is Lake Shalasheen which landmarks the city, for it catches the sun like a coin tossed from palankeen to gutter, and it was that wink-blind of bright-blazing silver which assured Sken-Pitilkin of his target.
Since it was in Dalar ken Halvar that Sken-Pitilkin had first trialed his stickbird, and since he had revisited the city since the fall of Drangsturm, he knew the place from the air. After all these years, he could still place a variety of places where he had crash-landed while perfecting his airship. In particular, he had no trouble at all in placing the spot where he had crash-landed in a funeral pyre.
Just as Sken-Pitilkin knew Dalar ken Halvar, so Dalar ken Halvar knew Sken-Pitilkin. In particular, the City of Sun still remembered the long and universally dangerous series of trials in which the sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon had mastered the business of controlled flight. The chickens he had killed! The roofs he had torn off! The women he had caused to scream and faint! He had crashed in the river, had crashed in the lake, had crashed in the streets and in yards both public and private. Once, he had even been forced to put down hastily in the very Grand Arena itself.
On this occasion, as on his last visit, Sken-Pitilkin announced his return by circling over the city. At a leisurely pace, he sent his stickbird whirling over the fishing shacks of Childa Go, while Guest Gulkan leaned out and scrutinized the fortifications of the Bralsh. He flew over Cap Ogo Botch, on which stands the palace of Na Sashimoko. And, having circled and spiraled, and having noticed a gratifying stir in the streets of the city, Sken-Pitilkin landed his airship on the heights of Cap Foz Para Lash.
Then the wizard and the Weaponmaster waited.
At last, after a very lengthy delay, a single purple-skinned warrior came scrambling up to the heights. It was Asodo Hatch himself – Hatch the warlord, the man who was subordinate only to Plandruk Qinplaqus himself.
And, after only the briefest of conversations, Guest and Sken-Pitilkin knew that they had not misguessed their welcome.
So it was that Guest Gulkan returned to the City of Sun in the company of Hostaja Torsen Sken-Pitilkin. They were received with dignity, and with speeches in Pang, in Frangoni, and in the Motsu Kazuka of the Nu-chala-nuth.
Then Guest and Sken-Pitilkin were long closeted with Asodo Hatch and Plandruk Qinplaqus. Being uncertain of how much Asodo Hatch knew of the Circle of the Partnership Banks, Sken-Pitilkin placed the star-globe on the negotiating table, then treated that purple-skinned Frangoni warrior to a full exposition of its place in the scheme of things; then updated both Hatch and his wizardly master on the current state of affairs in Argan, and outlined a grand scheme for conquering the Circle of the Banks.
Both Asodo Hatch and Plandruk Qinplaqus had grave reservations about unleashing Nu-chala-nuth upon their own planet.
A militant religion like Nu-chala-nuth had endless potential to generate grief, suffering and war.
But what was the alternative?
The Swarms were threatening the invasion of Tameran and the Ravlish Lands, and, ultimately, there was no guarantee that any part of the world would be permanently safe from these monsters. A unifying force was needed to rally humanity against these monsters, and the militant monotheistic religion of Nu-chala-nuth fitted the bill. The unifying force of Nu-chala-nuth, combined with the knowledge of Cap Foz Para Lash and the resources of the Circle of the Partnership Banks would provide all that was needed for the defeat of the Swarms.
As debate proceeded, Asodo Hatch was won over long before his master, Plandruk Qinplaqus. Ever since Guest Gulkan had brought the x-x-zix to Dalar ken Halvar, Asodo Hatch had been masterminding the research project which had been trying to make that ancient weather machine functional. Since then, his life had been one long exercise in frustration. Paraban Senk, the unembodied entity which ruled the underworld of Cap Foz Para Lash, had been able to give Hatch most of the technical advice he needed, but this advice amounted to a heart-breaking recipe for never-ending labor.
For, to build a machine capable of mastering the x-x-zix, one must first build a series of lesser machines; and to build the lesser machines one must first fabricate a thousand different kinds of materials, such as various kinds of metal alloys; and to fabricate each of these thousand different materials one must first build a set of fabricating machines. And -
And the whole heart-breaking exercise had very much confirmed to Asodo Hatch that which he had long suspected: namely, the fact that the impoverished city of Dalar ken Halvar was too poor to emulate the arts of the ancients. It could not support the number of specialists which a machine civilization required; it could not command an adequate supply of energy; and it was short even of the basic metals such as iron, tin, copper, gold and silver.
Since Plandruk Qinplaqus was not likely to yield in his determination to have the x-x-zix made functional, Hatch was doomed to waste out the rest of his life in futility unless he could capture the resources needed to exploit his knowledge.
"Stokos can give us iron, and coal, and steel," said Hatch, as he began to appreciate the potential of this Circle. "On Stokos, the mines have been dug already, the forges built, and generations of craftsmen have refined the arts of working metal.
If we open this Circle, then the ruling city of Stokos becomes a suburb of Dalar ken Halvar, which means that we have steelworks on our doorstep."
Thus did Asodo Hatch signify his conversion to Sken-Pitilkin's plan; and, though the conversion of Plandruk Qinplaqus was by no means as simple, eventually the Lord of the Silver Pelican was brought to the same opinion.
There then followed long days of preparation, for all were acutely conscious of the fact that the Door in Voice opened to a region long overrun by the Swarms, hence there was the possibility that such monsters would muscle through to Dalar ken Halvar as soon as the Door in the Bralsh was opened. The problem was solved – at least as far as Dalar ken Halvar was concerned – by placing huge blocks of stone on either side of the steel arch within the Bralsh. These blocks constricted the approaches to the archway so that, while a man could get to the arch, a monster in its hugeness would not have been able to get out into Dalar ken Halvar.
Nor were these brute physical preparations the end of the matter, for the city of Dalar ken Halvar as a whole had to be briefed as to what was afoot, and prepared for the opening of the Circle. For there was no way that it could be held secret. Not when it would be necessary to use hundreds of men to guard and fortify the Door at Voice, and hold it against the Swarms.
Then came the day.
In the Bralsh, Plandruk Qinplaqus ceremonially placed the star-globe in its niche in the base of the marble plinth which supported the steel arch of the Door. Immediately, there came a hum as of wasps or of bees. The seductive silver shimmer of the screen of the Door came to life, filling the arch. And Guest Gulkan – accompanied by Asodo Hatch, by Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin and by a dozen spearheading heroes – was gone through that screen in moments.
A single footfall took Guest from the Bralsh in Dalar ken Halvar to the Singing Dove Pensions Trust of Tang. He found himself in a well-remembered conical chamber hung with silken ropes and scented with incense. It was utterly empty.
Onward!
Back through the Door went Guest, his onslaught taking him to the Taniwha Guarantee Corporation of Quilth. Here was a similar conical chamber, but this one had been sealed with doors of steel.
It was lit – but dimly – by small barred windows high overhead.
No time to linger! Guest went through the Door again, this time stepping to the Orsay Bank of Stokos. He found the Orsay Bank's Door unattended but for the fresh-made corpse of an elderly Banker who had dropped stone dead at the shock of seeing the Door so unexpectedly reactivated.
Press on! Guest plunged through the Door again, this time stepping through to the Morgrim Bank of Chi'ash-lan. He found the chamber of Chi'ash-lan's Door to be in utter darkness but for the unearthly green light emitted by the demon Ko. The glowing green shone sick and wet on the skeletons which hung from the ceiling of Chi'ash-lan's weirding room. By that same light, Guest saw that the entrance to the room had been bricked up.
The demon Ko said nothing, but Guest supposed the thing saw him, and supposed too that it would immediately communicate its knowledge to every other demon in the Circle of the Partnership Banks.
Time to go! Guest dared through the Door again, to Alozay. He arrived in Alozay's weirding room in the highest level of the mainrock
Pinnacle. It was bright with sun, and it was empty.
That high and airy chamber was not empty for long, for Asodo Hatch and Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin came pushing through the Door in Guest's wake, with armed men following. As Guest lingered – for he had given himself the task of introducing Alozay to the new realities of the renascent Circle – Hatch and Sken-Pitilkin pushed onward. More and more men came pouring through the Door, stepping into Alozay then stepping back through the silver screen so they could push through to the ruins of the Monastic Treasury of Inner Adeer, where a Door opened to the ruins of the city of Voice.
They would hold Voice in strength, and fortify it against the Swarms.
Once this great press of men had hastened in and out of Alozay, Guest Gulkan was left alone in the weirding room in the mainrock Pinnacle. He had thought it best that he confront his father alone, rather than with armed men at his back, for he wanted the Witchlord Onosh as an ally rather than a slave. He wanted no taint of coercion to contaminate their relationship. He sought an alliance of equals: himself and his father, united against the world.
So Guest was alone when he ventured to the outer stairway which led downward from the Sky Stratum of Jezel Obo to the Archive Stratum of Trilip – bypassing the Hall of Time where the demon Italis maintained its vigil. But he found that outer stairway hanging in tatters, splinters of sky interpolated into its shattered fabric.
Then Guest ventured out onto the living rock of the mainrock
Pinnacle, and scanned the view to north and south. To south was the city of Molothair, which was inhabited still, for smoke was rising from its chimneys. To the north, the broad expanse of the Swelaway Sea was dotted with fishing boats. So. The island of Alozay, the ruling rock of the Safrak Islands, was still inhabited. Was still at peace. That knowledge canceled one of Guest's fears: for in recent days he had endured a nightmare in which the Swarms had made a covert invasion of the Safrak Islands.
There had been no such invasion.
Alozay still maintained its integrity.
But the outer stairs had fallen to ruin, so Guest had no choice but to descend the inner stairs, and thus to precipitate a confrontation with the demon Italis – a confrontation which he had wished to defer until after he had met his father in conference.
So down Guest went, descending the inner stairs until he came in sight of that monolithic block of rock, twice his own height, which was as green as jade, that smoothest and hardest of stones, which the Ngati Moana call -
What is the word?
Pounamu.
Remembering that word, Guest remembered Untunchilamon. And so, as he looked around the Hall of Time – trying to see past the demon Italis – the Weaponmaster's head was alive with incongruous memories of tropical heat, of monkeys and of and coconut palms.
There was nobody in the Hall of Time.
Not as far as Guest could see.
The Hall was empty. Its walls were terribly scarred by fire, and its tiles, which had once been patterned with skull-shaped designs, were scarred and blistered. Turning his attention back to Italis, Guest realized that there was a spark of brightness moving within the demon. A spark? Watching the lurid light which flashed and pulsed inside the demon, Guest realized it was a sphere about the size of a fist, and realized this was Shabble. That explained why nothing had been heard of the shining one since it had left Guest on his desert island.
"Greetings," said Guest, addressing himself to Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, the jade-green monolith which stood before him.
The demon did not respond. It heard him, surely. It saw him, surely. But it said nothing. Within its substance, Shabble batted from side to side, trapped, caged, irrevocably imprisoned. And Guest, his memories of Untunchilamon fading fast, remembered instead the night when he and his father had fought against Banker Sod, striving for control of the mainrock Pinnacle. It was an alliance with Italis which had allowed Guest to win that battle and make himself master of Safrak. Guest waited.
He refused to be intimidate by this thing, or by its silence.
It could say nothing to disturb him, nothing to upset him, nothing to make him afraid. He was past all that.
So thought Guest.
Then the demon spoke.
"So," said Italis. "You have come to kill your father."
The words had weight. They were backed by an infinity of perception, of thought, of analysis, of years of study and of silent interrogation of probability.
And Guest, absorbing the words, felt his eyes become hot with tears. Then his mouth was wrenched open, and he found himself gasping for air. In huge, heaving gasps, he dragged in the air as his grief claimed him. For he had seen his doom, and had seen his father's doom, and had seen that there was no avoiding it.