CONTENTS
Uh-oh. Here we are at the end of another trilogy. This time, I’d tike to thank those people and things that made me The Way I am Today, specifically: Jay Ward and Bill Scott’s Rocky and Bullwinkle, Walt Kelly’s Pogo, Carl Bark’s Uncle Scrooge and anything made by Chuck Jones; the writings of Robert Sheckley, Jack Sharkey and L. Sprague de Camp (often with Fletcher Pratt); Preston Sturges’s movies; Stan Freberg commercials (who put those eight great tomatoes in that itty-bitty can?); Danny Kaye in Frank and Panama’s The Court Jester (a partial prototype for Wuntvor—the vessel with the pestle holds the brew that is true); and almost anything made by those Monty Python people. In addition, much of these books was written while listening to the recordings of Louis Jordon (“Beware, Brother, Beware”) and Kid Creole and the Coconuts (“Annie, I’m Not Your Daddy”). You have been warned.
The usual round of thanks must also go to my stalwart and long-suffering friends, including Jeff, Richard, Victoria and Mary (a.k.a. Team Cambridge), who critiqued mis whole thing as it went along, and the lovely Elisabeth, who puts up with me wandering around the apartment chuckling at my own jokes. And then there’s those New York people, like my Superagent, Merrilee Heifetz, and the entire friendly and helpful staff at Writers House; and also my Supereditor, Ginjer Buchanan, who almost always changes stuff back when I yell and scream, and everybody else at Berkley/Ace (Hi, Susan! Hi, Beth!).
Lastly, I would like to dedicate this, the last of the Ebenezum books, to the memory of my grandfather Walter W. Shaw who introduced me to the world of art and a world of wonders
There is one fact that every magician must accept: Sorcery is not a stable science. Quite the contrary, magic is ever-changing, and the nimble mage must learn to change with it. Magic is never done. It goes on forever and ever, constantly new, impossible to categorize or summarize. The magician must never consider a spell complete and successful until he or she sees the results. He must realize as well that every spell has a counterspell, and, in a world where magic rules, all things are possible. Using magic becomes a lifetime’s work, as the mage discovers that all the spells and conjurations grow together into a force beyond the magician’s simple goals, and further join with all the other spells, of all the other wizards, past, present and future, becoming an ever-changing tapestry beyond mortal ken, a force that no wizard can ever completely understand. Or completely take for granted.
That’s magic in a nutshell. And that’s my final word on the matter. I think.
From Spells That Hate Wizards, and the Wizards Who Love Them, third edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
“Wuntvor?”
I looked up. I realized that someone was calling my name, and perhaps had been doing so for quite some time.
“Wuntvor?” the young woman’s voice repeated. It was the voice of my beloved, the witch Norei. “Do you want to talk?”
I shrugged. I did not care. After what had happened, I didn’t care about much of anything. My master, Ebenezum, the greatest mage in the Western Kingdoms, was gone. He had been taken by Death. Worse still, Death had taken the wizard because the specter could not take me, whom it wanted because of some nonsense about my being the Eternal Apprentice, always instantaneously reborn into another apprenticing form, forever bumbling, forever helping heroes throughout eternity, and therefore forever beyond Death’s grasp. And for this very reason—my supposed unobtainability by the creature to whom all came in time—Death desired me. The specter coveted my soul, and would go to any lengths to obtain it.
Norei squatted by my side, so that her face was even with mine. She gripped my chin with her cool, delicate fingers.
“Are you going to sit there for the rest of your life?”
When I did not reply immediately, she pulled her hand away. I blinked, glancing down at the dirt and grass between my knees, then looked up again at Norei’s concerned expression. I sighed. I shrugged. Death had taken my master. What did it matter?
Norei whistled softly. “Alea was right.”
“Alea?” I murmured. Had Alea been here?
Norei nodded, more to herself than to me. “When she told me that she had embraced you, and nestled her cheek tenderly next to your own, and promised you she would do anything, anything at all, to break you from this mood, and that, to all of this, you showed not the slightest reaction, I doubted her. Until now.”
Alea had done what? I did not remember an embrace, and Alea was the sort of person, what with her long blond hair and trim actress’s figure, with whom an embrace would be memorable. And there had been cheek nestling as well? And she had promised to do anything?
Anything? Well, not that I would have done anything, because, after all, I was promised to my beloved Norei. But still. Anything?
And I didn’t remember any of it?
Norei frowned at me. “There must be some way we can get you out of this state.”
I frowned back at her. I hoped that there was. Obviously, from what Norei had told me, the depression I was in was more serious than I had thought. I furrowed my brow, but the memory of Alea was lost to me.
Anything?
Norei reached out her arms to me and clasped me firmly.
“I think this calls for drastic action,” she whispered, a grim half-smile upon her lips. She leaned in my direction.
What was she doing? My master was gone! I didn’t have any time for such foolishness. Her full lips were much too close. I wanted to turn my head away.
For some reason, I did not.
I closed my eyes, and we kissed.
The kiss lasted for quite some time. I felt a tingling warmth in my chest, which spread outward as the kiss continued, until it heated me from the top of my head to the ends of my toes. And the true center of the warmth emanated from Norei’s soft lips, the sweetest lips anyone had ever kissed.
The kiss ended at last. I gasped for breath. I opened my eyes.
Perhaps, I reconsidered, there was hope, after all.
“Now,” my beloved said again. “Would you like to talk about it?”
I nodded, not yet able to speak.
“Ebenezum is gone,” Norei summarized. “Death has taken him. But Death really wants you.”
I nodded again. I marveled at my beloved. How could she be so clearheaded after such a kiss?
“And Death would be glad to trade your soul for Ebenezum’s?”
I sighed. “I’m afraid so. That is, if we can trust Death. The specter is too fond of its games and tricks. I fear that, instead of releasing Ebenezum from its kingdom in exchange for me, Death may try to take us both.”
“Humans!” an excruciatingly annoying voice exclaimed behind us. “Don’t you know anything?”
I whirled to see the truth-telling demon Snarks, attired as usual in his monkish robes of somber gray; robes that, despite their neutral hue, still seemed to clash with the demon’s bright green complexion.
I glared at the smirking Snarks.
“How long have you been here?” I demanded.
“Oh, long enough. Your kissing’s not bad.” The demon nodded pleasantly at Norei before turning back to me. “After we’re alone, of course, I’ll be glad to give you one or two pointers to improve your technique.”
“Snarks!” I began, pointing back toward the clearing where the rest of our party rested. “If you don’t—“
But my beloved put a restraining hand upon my elbow, stopping my tirade before it could properly begin. “No, no, let the demon be. I believe he has a point.”
Snarks nodded his agreement. “Actually I have a number of them, but they’re covered by my robes.”
I was horrified. Norei and Snarks agreed about me? I could barely bring myself to look at my beloved as I asked: “You mean he’s right about me having to improve my technique?”
Norei laughed softly. “No, no, your technique needs no improving whatsoever. Not to say that we both couldn’t benefit from additional practice, whenever and wherever we can find the time.” She kissed me gently on the cheek. “But I think he is correct when he implied that there might be more than one way to fight Death.”
I didn’t remember Snarks saying that. Still, after a prolonged bout of kissing, I had a tendency not to remember much of anything. What would my master have done in a case like this? After a moment’s consideration, I nodded sagely and waited for one of the others to continue.
Snarks waved a sickly green finger at Norei. “The young witch is very perceptive, especially for a human.
When I came upon this cozy little scene, you were bemoaning the fact that Death seemed to control the situation. Typical limited human thinking.” The demon paused to shrug his heavily robed shoulders. “But then, you were not blessed with an upbringing spent in the devious byways of the Netherhells. One’s thoughts flow much more freely when they’re covered with a bit of slime.”
I listened intently to the small demon, for, although Snarks somehow always managed to phrase things in the most irritating manner imaginable, still much of what he had told us in the past had been of great use. The small demon had developed an odd clarity of vision, based in large pan on his overwhelming compulsion to tell the truth in all things—a reaction, apparently, to an experience Snarks had while still in the womb, when his mother was badly frightened by a group of demonic politicians.
“So here we are,” the demon continued, “in the middle of a brand-new game, and Death appears to be holding all the cards.” Snarks smiled. “But I think that the game we’re going to play won’t use any cards at all. Who says we have to play by Death’s rules? You have a crowd of allies only a few feet away, some of whom have very interesting powers. I think that, with a little thought, we will come up with a game that will actually put Death at a disadvantage.” The demon clapped his hands enthusiastically. “We can win this!”
“That’s right!” a tiny, high voice said from the vicinity of my ankles. “You can’t help but win with Brownie Power!”
Snarks paused mid-clap to make a face even more unpleasant than usual, as if something he had eaten recently was interfering with his digestion. He had also managed to turn an even deeper shade of green.
“Then again,” he added a moment later, his stomach apparently once more under control, “perhaps there are some of your allies who might be better excluded from further assistance.”
“Nonsense! Brownies need no rest. We thrive on conflict!” Tap the Brownie performed an impromptu tap dance as he spoke. “Especially if that conflict has something to do with shoes!”
“I’ve got you there!” Snarks replied triumphantly. “I don’t think Death has anything at all to do with footwear!”
“Nonsense! A being of Death’s stature, not wearing—“ Tap paused, doubt spreading across his tiny face. “Oh, my. The specter’s robes are rather long, aren’t they?”
Snarks nodded triumphantly. “There’s no way to tell if Death wears shoes. There’s no way to tell if Death even has feet.”
Oddly, the dismay seemed to vanish from the Brownie’s countenance, replaced by a faraway look in his eyes. “Then Death may have spent millennia wandering the cosmos shoeless?” Tap spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Then—could it be—the first pair of shoes Death wears might be made by me?”
“Indeed,” I interjected, for the conversation seemed to have wandered a good distance from our original topic. “Perhaps, before we consider Death’s footwear, we should give a little more thought to the predicament of my master—“
“Exactly what I was going to do.” Snarks interrupted, “before this shoe fanatic butted in.”
“Shoe fanatic!” Tap blurted. “Well, if caring passionately about one’s footwear makes one a fanatic—if it makes a difference to you about the proper heel size, and the quality of the leather, and the aesthetic roundness of the toe, and the elasticity of the laces, and the color of the leather, using of course only true browns from nature, and the correct eyelet placement, taking into account the proper mathematical proportions, and the absolute best angle for stitching the seams, and—well, ten or twelve other factors equally important, then I guess you could call me—“
I tugged on Snarks’s sleeve, drawing him a bit farther away from the declaiming Brownie.
“My master,” I repeated.
Norei walked up behind us. “We must find out what Death has done with him. If the creature will tell us.”
I smiled back at my beloved. Discussing my predica- ment with her and Snarks seemed to be restoring both my confidence and powers of thought.
“Why not?” I replied. “Death feels above us. I am sure we can get it to boast of my master’s capture with no bother at all.”
A green, scaly hand patted me briskly on the back. “Thinking worthy of the Netherhells!” Snarks exclaimed. “If you keep up this clever planning for—say—another three or four weeks, I may have to revise my opinion of humankind.”
“But to make Death’s shoes!” Tap shouted behind us. “I’d go down in the Brownie Hall of Fame! I can see the plaque now, made of that fine silver we use for our very best buckles: ‘First footwear for Lord of the Dead, with heels designed to walk upon a billion souls. Designed by the humble—ME!’ “ Tap applauded his conjecture. “His Brownieship would have to forgive me then!”
Snarks looked back at the Brownie with some distaste. “Perhaps we should move even farther aside,” he remarked, “say, to an entirely different clearing?”
I chided Snarks for his remark. After all, our tiny Brownie ally had been through a lot lately, what with his somewhat impetuous actions coming under criticism by his Brownie superiors, simply because he forgot he was supposed to wait for one of those superiors, and rushed to my aid instead. Now the head Brownie of them all, His Brownieship, was making noises about disbarring Tap from all future Brownie activity, which meant no more making shoes. In a situation like this, Tap was bound to be distraught. He deserved a little understanding.
Snarks nodded grimly when I was done. “Oh, I understand him all too well. But do I have to listen to him, too?”
The Brownie walked petulantly toward us. “You may scoff, but my whole future is at stake. I can’t wait to meet Death and discuss footwear!”
In that instant, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. A wind sprang up from nowhere to remind us that summer was almost gone. And then the wind, too, was gone, replaced by a chuckle drier than a stone in a desert after a thirty-year drought.
“Somebody called?” the newcomer’s voice rasped.
Tap began to tremble as he looked up at the newcomer’s rotting robes. “On second thought, I might want a little more time to prepare for my discussion—“ He paused as he backed hastily away. “Say, forty or fifty years?”
Death nodded at the Brownie. “Ah, yes. But we will talk, my little friend. Sooner or later.”
The specter turned to me, the skull-like face beneath its hood showing all its teeth in a perpetual smile. “Ah, but there is no reason to be upset. This is naught but a courtesy call. As I recall, we have business to discuss. Something to do with an exchange of souls?”
I glanced at both Norei and Snarks, then stepped forward. I would have to handle this somehow. “Indeed.” I tried to smile, but my lips would not refrain from trembling. “Do you have a proposal?”
Was it my imagination, or did Death’s grin become even wider? “Oh, I have any number of them. But I don’t think it’s proper that proposals should come from me.” Death’s voice quickened, rising with every word. “After all, I am dealing with the Eternal Apprentice, the one being in the entire cosmos forever beyond my grasp!”
It stopped itself for a minute to smooth its dark, rotting robes. “At least, that is, until now,” it added in a much more reasonable tone. “I therefore think it only proper that the initial proposal come not from me, but from the Eternal Apprentice.”
“Indeed?” I replied. Death was taunting me, flaunting its advantage. Looking at the specter’s smile, I felt the fear drain away, to be replaced by a building anger. If Death was going to play with me, I would play right back.
“You want a proposal, then?” I asked, managing a firm smile at last. “You give Ebenezum back to us and we would forget all about it.”
Death made a strangled sound, deep in whatever it had that passed for a throat. “You dare—“ it whispered. “When I could reach over and snuff out—“ The specter paused again and stood up straight, regaining its skeletal composure. It laughed. “But I misunderstand. You wish to bargain. I apologize for my outburst, but I fear I am a bit too emotionally involved in these proceedings. I will go along with your game, of course. I am the master of games.”
Death’s knuckles clacked together noisily as it stroked its chin. “You have made an offer. It is, of course, unacceptable. However, I generously agree to make a counteroffer; say, let’s forget all about the foolish wizard, and allow me rather to end this nonsense once and for all by taking you and your companions here to the Kingdom of Death for the rest of eternity.”
Snarks sidled over to me. “I don’t think this is working.”
“Come, now,” Death insisted. “I am waiting for your counteroffer.”
“Indeed?” I answered, stalling for time. What could I bargain with next? I knew there was only one offer that would satisfy Death, and that was the possession of the Eternal Apprentice’s soul. My soul.
Tap jumped across the clearing, landing on my shoe. “You’d better speak up. I don’t think this guy is long on patience!”
“For once, we are in agreement,” Snarks said, then added, “Why don’t you offer the creature one of your companions in exchange for the wizard? Somebody with a useful skill, like making shoes.”
“Then again,” the Brownie reconsidered, “perhaps it is time to give this matter more thought. Perhaps fifty or sixty years more thought?”
“I await your answer,” Death intoned. “Quickly, now! I have souls to collect!”
“Doom!” answered a deep voice behind me.
“Oh, here we go again,” Death remarked fatalistically. “The longer we talk, the greater the number of companions to the Eternal Apprentice that will arrive. How many are there now? A dozen? Two dozen? May I suggest that we conclude our business before there are hundreds?”
“Indeed,” I replied. “You will excuse me for a moment, but I need to consult with my fellows.”
“Doom,” the warrior Hendrek agreed as he walked forward to stand by my side.
“Of course,” Death said with a sigh. “How could I expect anything else?”
Norei walked to stand by my other side. I motioned my companions to huddle together.
“What am I do to? Death demands a bargain. But what can we afford to bargain with?”
“We could offer the creature a sharp blow to the head,” Hendrek suggested, hefting his cursed warclub, which no man could own but could only rent. It was the weapon called Headbasher, that stole the memories from men.
“A sharp blow to the head?” Norei frowned. “No, I don’t think that was the sort of thing Wuntvor had in mind.”
Hendrek nodded thoughtfully. “How about two sharp blows to the head?”
“You try my patience!” Death shrieked behind me. “You know what I desire. Make me an offer!”
“How about a little song and dance?” another voice boomed theatrically.
The earth shook as Damsel and Dragon bounded into the clearing. As serious as our situation was, I couldn’t help glancing at Alea with her long blond hair and scanty vaudevillian attire.
Anything?
But I had no time for errant thoughts. Death was waving its bony arms in the air. It was becoming more agitated with every passing minute.
“We’ve come up with a special song for this occasion,” Alea said brightly, tossing her long blond hair so that it shone even beneath the clouds.
Anything?
“Hit it, Hubert!” Alea called out.
“I will not allow this!” Death screamed. “I am here for negotiation, not vaudeville!”
But Damsel and Dragon had already started to shuffle back and forth. I knew a song could not be far behind.
Unfortunately, I was correct:
“There’s something in the air that’s pretty scary, The sun is gone, the wind’s contrary! It’s quite exciting, we must confetti; It must be time for a date with Death!”
“Say, Damsel,” Hubert remarked. “Have you been introduced to Death?”
“Not officially,” Alea replied jovially, “but I am dying to meet him!”
They launched into another verse:
“I must admit I’m feeling old, My youth is gone, the world is cold, All around me is such a meth, It must be time for a date with Death!”
“Say, Dragon,” Alea interjected. “I’ve heard that Death is rather a cold character.”
Hubert slapped a scaly knee before replying: “Well, Damsel, you’ve heard Dead Wrong!”
“No more!” Death pleaded. “Please, no more!” The specter turned to me. “Make me an offer, please!”
“Death wants an offer?” Hubert chortled triumphantly. “See, Damsel, I knew we could win him over! We simply have to face it. No one can resist our flashing feet and snappy patter!”
“No, no!” Death insisted. “I was speaking to the Eternal Apprentice!”
“Oh, trying to be hard-nosed about this, so we won’t charge an arm and a leg?” Hubert laughed again. “You forget, Mr. Death, that we’ve had to face negotiators much worse than you. After all, we work in the arts!”
“But I guess he’s seen right through us, Hubie,” Alea added. “Let’s face it, we need new worlds to conquer. We’ve already mastered the world above with our song and dance. And now we’ve almost finished this gig as official entertainment for Wuntvor’s quest. Hubie and I have decided it’s time to look for limited engagements elsewhere.”
“Nothing fancy, mind you,” Hubert continued. “One- night stands, mostly; perhaps a longer engagement in your population centers. If you have population centers.” The dragon sighed happily. “Just think, the first song-and-dance act ever to tour the Kingdom of the Dead.”
Death stared at me even more intently. “A bargain! Quickly!”
“I have an idea!” Snarks interjected. “You return the wizard to us, and we’ll make sure the dragon and the woman never bother you again.”
Death hesitated before it replied.
“Tempting,” it said at last. “But not enough.”
“Is this creature bothering you?” a magnificently modulated voice spoke close by my ear. I did not even have to turn my head to know that the unicorn had arrived.
“No, no, we were only talking.”
The unicorn sighed. “Yes, I know; you will talk to creatures like this. But will you spare a few moments for me? It is enough to try even my perfect patience. Won’t you ever find time for some”—the beast paused meaningfully—“significant conversation?”
“It is time we got serious,” Death interrupted hastily, as if afraid of being drowned out by the ever-increasing group of companions.
“So, you’re having a party,” yet another gruff voice commented loudly. “And you didn’t wait for me?”
It was Jeffrey the wolf. “Hey. Never mind. I’m here now. It’s amazing how a quest can come alive when there’s a talking wolf along!”
“Or you will never see your master again!” Death shouted over the wolf.
“Doom,” Hendrek added.
“Ho hey, ho hey! And after work we play!” a number of voices rang out in song. To my surprise, it was the Seven Other Dwarves.
“Hey!” the Brownie called. “You guys sing, too?”
“Do we sing, too?” one of the dwarves, whose name was Nasty, mimicked. “Of course we do, tiny. It’s in our contract!”
“That is correct,” sniffed another dwarve named Snooty.
“It is one of the privileges most cherished by the Dwarve Union. Not that you’d know anything about that!”
“Yes, yes, most certainly.” Smarmy, the leader of the dwarves, stepped forward. “Singing happy work songs is a tradition greatly cherished by dwarvedom. Unfortunately, we are a bit out of practice, for Mother Duck never much liked it. But with her off fighting the Netherhells, we thought it was high time we got in a few verses.”
“You guys ever think about going into vaudeville?” Hubert queried. “We’re always looking for opening acts.”
“Will someone listen to me?” Death demanded.
Norei clutched my hand. “Yes, Wuntvor,” she said bravely. “We must come up with a bargain for Death.”
“Bargains?” Death laughed bitterly, its patience at an end. “I am tired of bargains! You know what I desire!”
“Did I hear someone mention bargains?” A demon wearing a loud, checkered coat appeared before us, a large sack in one hand, a lit cigar in the other. He lifted the sack, waving it in Death’s direction. “Well, you need look no further than my extensive stock of previously owned weapons!”
“No more!” Death screamed. “I will have my due! We will talk now!”
But suddenly another, much larger, much uglier demon stood among us. With a single, disdainful glance toward Death, the large demon cleared his throat and began to declaim:
“Guxx Unfufadoo, noble demon, Wishes to announce his presence—“
“Too much!” Death shrieked. “I will deal with all of you!” The creature lifted its hands above its head, spreading its bonelike fingers wide. And through the space between the fingers came the wind.
It began as a gale. Leaves were torn from the trees surrounding the clearing, then the smaller branches began to rip free. My companions tried to hold their ground, but they were forced to cover their faces so they would not choke on the dust that filled the air.
The wind increased, and the larger tree branches groaned as they bent in two. My smaller fellows lost their footing, and had to huddle on the ground so as not to be blown away. One by one, the others also fell to the ground as the enchanted gale redoubled again, becoming so powerful that even Hubert had to strain against its force.
Death smiled at me though the gale, as if we shared a joke. And perhaps we did, for I did not feel the wind at all.
“Good,” Death remarked, its voice soft and clear despite the wind around us. “Now we may conclude our business.”
“Indeed,” I replied, and my voice, too, sounded louder than the wind. There would be no more stalling. I would have to make Death an offer at last. I looked at the huddled form of Norei to one side, the mass of overlarge robes that hid Snarks on the other side. There was no way I could talk to any of my fellows!
Death laughed, the sound of plants being ripped up by their roots in the gale. “They cannot help you now. My power has put us beyond them. It is just you and I: the Eternal Apprentice and his Death.”
The specter wriggled his fingers. The wind grew even stronger.
“Their advice was worthless, anyway. Surprised that I should know?” Death paused an instant in its wind production to smooth its rotting robes. “You shouldn’t be. I knew everything they’ve said, and everything they were going to say. Pitiful mortals. Do you think you can keep any secrets from Death? I am everywhere. I am in all of you, and make my presence known a little bit more every day. I know all of you intimately, and, although you may deny it, all of you know me, too.”
Death laughed again, the sound of trees felled by lightning. “Now, though, you will come to know me so much better. For I have taken the two of us beyond the others. Prepare for your demise, Eternal Apprentice. No one can help you now.”
There was a crashing sound behind me. Perhaps the wind was actually tearing apart the trees. Death stared beyond me, as if astonished by its handiwork.
“Oops!”
A giant foot crashed between us, a foot that belonged to Richard the giant.
“Excuse me, fellows,” Richard rumbled. “There seem to be some tricky winds down close to the ground. It’s making walking a little difficult. Uh—you didn’t want that part of the forest back there, anyways, did you?”
“I don’t believe this!” Death screamed.
And then the wind was gone.
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,” or so the sages say. And I agree that, if you can hum a little ditty or two, you will have nothing to fear from the savage breast whatsoever. Unfortunately, ‘tis another matter entirely with savage fingers, savage claws, savage teeth and savage fangs, all of which will gladly shred and bite to their heart’s content as you provide the musical accompaniment.
from Wizardry in the Wild: A Sorcerer’s Guide to Outdoor Survival, fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
Death had disappeared. But something was still wrong with the forest.
My companions stood, one by one, in the aftermath of the gale, each groaning, stretching, exclaiming or complaining according to his or her nature. I looked around the edges of the forest that bordered the clearing, to see if the specter might be playing some trick on us. But I saw no sign of its skeletal countenance. My large number of allies had managed to overwhelm it once again. Death had had to flee when faced by too much life.
Why didn’t I feel happier about my victory? Was it simply that my master was still a prisoner of Death, and our first meeting with the specter had been so chaotic that I had had no opportunity to discover any further hint of Ebenezum’s whereabouts? Or was there something more? Had there been a change in the forest, beyond the fact that it was a mass of splintered trees and squashed bushes where the giant passed through?
“Oops,” Richard interrupted. “Could someone tell me what is going on?”
“Doom,” Hendrek answered.
“Do you think this means Death isn’t interested in new entertainment attractions for his kingdom?” Hubert wondered.
I asked my companions to calm down for a moment. There was something out beyond the clearing. If I listened for it, perhaps I could discover what it was.
After a muttered comment or two, my allies quieted. I stared out over the demolished corner of the forest, and listened. Perhaps, I realized, the wind had not vanished entirely. Though far less violent than before, it was still out there, blowing about the splintered wood, whispering through the uprooted leaves.
Whispering? As soon as the thought entered my head, I realized how apt an analogy I had found. For the wind did not blow mindlessly through the newly dead wood beyond the clearing. Rather, there was a pattern to the ebb and flow of the breeze, as if it blew against the leaves and branches to make specific sounds; words perhaps, phrases, even parts of sentences. I strained to hear what the wind was saying.
“. . . not . . .” said the breeze through the branches. And then: “. . . not gone . . .”
“Doom,” Hendrek murmured, but I waved him to silence.
“I am not ...” the breeze whispered. “I am still . . . your answer . . . waiting for your answer.”
“Death!” I whispered in reply. For I was sure it was the specter, speaking to me through the broken trees.
“. . . cannot escape . . . everywhere . . . Death is . . .”
This was too strange. I had to investigate, even though it was surely one of Death’s tricks. But I knew I would have to face Death’s tricks and more if I was to rescue my master. I stepped forward and drew my sword.
“What do you want now?” Cuthbert, my enchanted blade, yelped. “There isn’t going to be blood, is there?”
I looked out at the dead forest. Now that I had walked closer to the ruined wood, I noticed that the forest floor was covered by wisps of fog that seemed to be moving in anything but a random pattern, as if they were following some predetermined design.
“No,” I answered quite honestly. “I don’t believe there will be blood.”
“Oh, no,” Cuthbert moaned. “I know what that tone of voice means. There might not be any blood, but there’s going to be plenty of ichor!”
I nodded grimly, for I could make no other answer. The sword was probably right. Any moment now, there would be ichor and more.
“Oops?” Richard called from where he stood, high above us all. “Pardon me, but is there something going on down there? It’s so difficult to see anything clearly from my vantage point.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “It is difficult for us to see as well. We will have to investigate.”
“Doom.”
I glanced to my side, and saw Hendrek pacing me, step for step, his cursed warclub, Headbasher, swinging in his very large hand.
“Hendrek’s right, even if he does refuse to lose weight,” the annoyingly correct voice of Snarks came from my other side. His scaly green hands held a stout oak staff. “If we’re going to fight this, we have to fight together.”
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea if you took someone with a knowledge of spells along?” Norei called as she caught up to the rest of us.
I gave my beloved a welcoming smile, then looked forward again into the dead forest. The fog was thickening as it lifted from the ground, a whorling gray mass that rose and fell violently, as if it were a great, gray blanket hiding an army of fiends beneath.
There was a small explosion by my feet. It was Tap the Brownie. He pointed at the roiling fog.
“Pretty creepy, huh? This looks like a job for Brownie Power!”
I stood still for a moment while the little fellow hopped into my pocket.
“Begin!” a huge voice spoke behind me.
Brax the salesdemon began to beat out a regular rhythm on a small drum he carried with him for this very purpose, while his fellow demon, Guxx Unfufadoo, declaimed:
“Guxx Unfufadoo, soldier demon, Marches bravely into battle, With no thought of his own peril, Does it all for his friend Wuntvor!”
There was a moment’s silence, followed by Guxx Unfufadoo’s curt demand:
“Ask me!”
“Hmm?” Brax replied. “Oh, sorry, I forgot, I was putting away my dru—“
“The question!” Guxx insisted.
“Oh, yes!” Brax groveled. “Most certainly, Grand Hoohah.” I heard the rustle of parchment. Brax cleared his throat. “Tell me, Guxx,” he read in a monotone. “Why are you making this noble sacrifice?”
“Sacrifice? I see.” Guxx paused a moment to consider, then commanded:
“Resume!”
Brax resumed beating the drum.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, abused demon, Wrongly thrown from power below us; Knows if he helps lad in trouble, Wuntvor will return the favor!”
Return the favor? Did that mean Guxx expected me to go back down to the Netherhells with him and help him regain his power? Was that why he was aiding me? Perhaps, I thought, in all fairness, I should let the large demon know that another visit to the slime pools below was not in my immediate plans.
“Indeed—“ I began
“Wait a minute, Damsel!” Hubert yelled enthusiastically. “Guxx’s declaiming puts me in the mood for a little song!”
Our march had brought us almost to the edge of the ruined wood, and I could see the first fingers of fog perhaps two dozen paces ahead. Some of them curled together as we approached, as if beckoning us to hurry. It was no longer the time for song, or declamation.
“Ind—“ I tried to interject.
“Continue!” Guxx roared over my objection.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, angered demon, Does not speak for entertainment, Lifts his voice for but one purpose, To put some fear in those he fights with!”
“Indeed—“ I began again, but my heart was no longer in the conversation. I could not risk turning around while the wisps of fog gathered about me.
“No need to thank us!” Hubert assured me. “If simple declamation can keep Death’s minions at bay, think what we might accomplish with a little song and dance.”
“That’s right, Dragon,” Alea echoed Hubert’s enthusiasm, “especially if we come up with something appropriate. Say, 612?”
“A wonderful choice!” Hubert agreed. “Shall we?”
The two of them sang together:
“It’s getting scary out here in the big, wide world, With creatures that jump and go boo! But no matter what horrible monster we meet, I’m not at all scared about you.”
“Recommence!” Guxx screamed forcefully. Brax beat the drum more quickly.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, music critic, Has had enough of this pair’s singing!
Is ready to perform a service;
Perhaps some vocal cords need pruning?”
The demon flexed his claws meaningfully as he blew his nose. I realized he had come very close to making a true rhyme.
“Well, you know how we feel about that!” Hubert replied. “Take it, Damsel!”
Alea took it:
“It’s so frightening that we want to hide, For whatever else can we do? Something really nasty—“
They both paused to point at Guxx.
“—might be by our side! But I’m not at all scared about you!”
Guxx Unfufadoo began to jump up and down, his clawed fists punching invisible enemies before him, a fearsome grimace spread upon his countenance. All in all, the demon seemed even more angry than usual.
“Override!” he shrieked.
Brax drummed even more loudly than before.
“Doom.” Hendrek, oblivious to the drama taking place between our more theatrical companions, used Headbasher to point into the shattered forest before us.
Oddly enough, the fog did seem to be retreating. Could whatever was waiting for us out there be a music critic as well? Perhaps the fog just didn’t care for noise. Whichever the reason, the forest floor before us was fog-free for a hundred paces.
“This could be a trap,” Hendrek grumbled.
“And I could have relatives living in the Netherhells,” Snarks added. “You have an amazing talent, dear Hendrek, for stating the obvious.”
Hendrek solemnly nodded in agreement. “It is a gift.”
The drumming redoubled behind us, twice as loud. I was amazed that so much noise could come from one tiny drum. Once again, the demon declaimed behind us:
“Guxx Unfufadoo, angered demon, Has had enough of caterwauling! Seems you should have used your heads which From your necks will soon be falli—“
The demon’s declamation dissolved in a fearsome bout of sneezing.
“Such a waste,” Brax sighed behind us. “What a magnificent rhyming talent!”
Even I had to admit, it was a pity. Guxx Unfufadoo, the dread rhyming demon, had been defeated by a counterspell performed by my master which caused the creature, once strengthened by his rhymes, to sneeze violently whenever rhymed poetry was present in his speech. Now—even though Guxx had once been our sworn enemy—still I found it sad to see him reduced to a mere sneezing shadow of his former demonic nastiness.
“What’s this?” Hubert exclaimed. “Guxx has given up?”
“ Tis a pity,” Alea agreed. “You might say he’s lost by a nose.”
“Gee, Damsel!” the dragon enthused. “That sounds like a cue for another verse!”
“Oops!” a voice rumbled from above. “No, it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t?” Damsel and Dragon asked in unison.
The ground shook behind me, the sound, I guessed, of Richard putting his foot down.
“It doesn’t,” the giant repeated. “There is something strange going on out there.”
“Oh,” Hubert replied meekly, “I guess it doesn’t. Oh, well. The rest of the verses weren’t all that good, anyway. In fact, the seventh and fifteenth stanzas were a trifle redundant—“ The dragon’s voice trailed off. “Something strange?”
Snarks laughed. “I never knew it could be so useful to have a giant along.” But then he turned to look out at the dead wood before us. “Oh” was his only comment.
“Doom.” Hendrek pointed again with his club. In the sudden silence, the fog had begun to creep back across the debris-strewn ground. “Whatever is out there is coming back for us.”
“Indeed,” I replied, doubt creeping into my voice. Should I encourage the vaudevillian duo’s singing, after all? It was, at best, a difficult decision. Aloud, I mused: “What sort of trap advances on its prey?”
“Ah,” a magnificently modulated voice spoke immediately behind me, “but whatever is out there will realize soon that it is what has been trapped, once it has been pierced by my glorious golden horn.”
“Hey!” Jeffrey added from somewhere nearby. “And don’t they know that no trap is complete unless you have a talking wolf along?”
I realized the Seven Other Dwarves were with us as well, as I heard them singing quietly in the background:
“Ho hee, ho hee, No trap will bother we!”
I wished I had the dwarves’ confidence. Couldn’t they see what was happening? The fog’s turbulence was increasing with every second it roiled toward us. And as it grew closer, I could see that it was not all a uniform gray, but actually showed spots of dully gleaming color here and there that swam within the mist. And the colors grew in intensity here, and faded there, like the flicker of sickly strings of lights, as if whatever was hiding within the mist was rising to the surface.
The voices within the fog were louder, too. For I realized that there was more than one calling out to me. Now that there was no more singing or declaiming, I could hear them much more clearly:
“Wuntvor—“
“—business is not finished—“
“Eternal Apprentice—“
“—come to us, Wuntvor—“
“—over so quickly—“
“Why don’t you put down your sword?”
“—an end to eternity—“
“Wuntvor—“
“Let us caress you—“
“We will cover you so comfortably—“
“—over so quickly—“
“Wouldn’t you like to rest—forever?”
“You heard what they said?” Cuthbert wailed. “About putting down your sword?”
“Indeed,” I answered.
“Isn’t that a good idea?” the sword pleaded hopefully. “Letting me rest someplace dry, say back behind us, away from the fog?”
I grunted in reply. “The way this fog moves, I have the feeling there is no place it could not cover, and no way we might escape it. I suppose I might give you a choice: Would you like to be stuck flat upon the ground, inanimate, while the clammy fog encloses you? Or would you like to be held in my hands, fighting your way to freedom?”
“That’s a choice?” The sword shivered, and spoke in a resigned tone: “Very well. Ichor is my destiny.”
“Indeed,” I replied, and advanced upon the fog.
“Don’t quote me. No comment.”
Statement of Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms, when first approached about Wizardgate
“Wuntvor—“ the fog called out to me. Or perhaps it was something hiding in the fog. Or any number of things hiding in the fog.
“—come to us, Wuntvor—“
I looked to my companions. We were all together, a tight-knit group.
“—bring your friends—“
Hendrek and Snarks flanked me on either side, their weapons drawn. They were moving more cautiously than before. We had slowed our headlong rush to meet our destiny. The surrounding mist was far too strange. None of us could guess what might emerge from the dense grayness at any instant, and we all realized that we had to adjust our moves accordingly.
“We’ve been waiting—“ the fog voices whispered.
“Doom,” Hendrek said, his voice softer than before, as if the fog that reached to encircle us was a greater threat than even his pessimism could comprehend.
The fog voices answered in a jumble:
“—Eternal Apprentice—“
“—ever so long—“
“We are so comforting—“
“—Wuntvor—“
“This is all a little depressing,” Snarks remarked with a lot less venom than usual.
This situation, apparently, was affecting all of us. I looked about. Norei was right behind me, flanked by the unicorn and the talking wolf. Guxx and Brax were next, the salesdemon grasping his drum, ready to beat at a moment’s notice. The Seven Other Dwarves followed them, while Hubert took up the rear with Alea perched upon his scaly blueish-purple neck.
We had been quite spread out when we had begun our march toward the fog, but now the rear guard seemed to be catching up with the front ranks, so that we were all in a bunch, threatening to trod on each other’s feet at a moment’s notice. Perhaps it was that those of us in front had been slowing our pace. Or perhaps those in the rear had quickened theirs to keep away from the tendrils of mist that curled about their heels.
“—Wuntvor—“
I took an even smaller step toward the fog. What did the mist want from me?
“—that’s the way—“
“—almost—“
“—only a moment—“
“—over so peacefully—“
Indeed, I thought. But for some reason, I could not bring myself to say even that single word. In fact, I couldn’t bring myself to do much of anything. Somehow, my steps had slowed so much that I had trouble pushing my foot forward to take another. What was wrong here?
I turned to ask my companions. They had all stopped walking as well. In fact, they seemed to have stopped moving entirely. All of them stared forward, into the fog. Hubert blinked, slowly. I looked down into the pocket of my jerkin. The Brownie appeared wedged inside, hands covering his tiny cap, as if he never wanted to look up into the light of day again.
“Doo—“ Hendrek began, but was unable to finish the word.
Something awful was happening! “—Wuntvor—“ The fog called my name instead. “—over so quickly—“ “—and ever so final.” The Seven Other Dwarves sang listlessly:
“Hi hor, hi nor, Why bother anymore?”
Then all eight of them began to snore.
Indeed, I thought. Why bother? The fog encircled us. In a matter of minutes, it would cover us as well. It was easier this way. No bother at all.
Norei forced her eyes open, as if she had to fight from falling asleep as well. “Oh, no!” she gasped, stifling a yawn. “Can’t you see, Wunt—“ Her eyes closed, and she slept.
“Norei?” I managed, but could not muster my thoughts sufficiently to frame a further question. And yet my beloved was trying to tell me something. I watched the tendrils of mist encircle her ankles.
The fog! It was the fog that was doing this! That’s what Norei had tried to tell me. This gray mass about us was more than a physical presence. It affected our emotions as well, draining our will to resist.
Well, it wouldn’t work on me! Why bother? I had asked myself a moment before while under the influence of the dreadful mist. I had to bother, no matter what the fog told me. My master’s life depended on it! And the lives of my companions as well! Death would have to try harder still to defeat Wuntvor, the Eternal Apprentice. Not even something as insidious as a cursed fog could defeat me!
Or could it?
I blinked; a movement that took all my concentration. I knew what was troubling us at last, but I also knew I had no energy left to defeat it. I had used up all my reserves in one last burst of defiant thought, leaving me filled with the lethargy of death. And it looked like my other compan- ions, Norei included, were in a worse state still. All of them, Brownie, unicorn, dragon, wolf, dwarves, demons and maiden—all of them were lost in deadly sleep.
My eyelids were too heavy. I felt them close, and my chin loll forward against my chest. But it couldn’t end like this! Somewhere, deep within me, defiance still lived. Somehow, I had to reach it, to coax it to the surface, to fill me with its power and give me strength. I could feel it now, like a hot coal burning deep within my brain. I had to use that coal to set fire to my mind, and find some way to overcome the mist that surrounded us.
My eyes fluttered open for an instant. Using every shred of defiance I had left in me, I only had the strength for one more word:
“Help!”
“Oops!” came a reply from on high. And then there came a wind. Death’s wind, I thought, as I drifted toward sleep. This time, even the giant would not escape the grip of Death.
“Wait—“ the fog whispered.
“—fair at all—“
“—heard the last—“
“—stupid giant—“
Then the voices were lost to the ever-increasing gale.
The wind stopped a moment later, and my eyes fluttered open.
The fog was gone. We were surrounded by brilliant sunlight.
“Oops,” Richard called. “Did I blow too hard?”
My companions let out a ragged cheer. Apparently, they were every bit as awake as I.
“Not at all!” I shouted aloft. “You have saved us from a dire fate!”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
“Gone?” my sword cried in disbelief. “It’s gone?”
“But it wasn’t me at all,” Richard replied. “I was acting on your direction.”
“I don’t have to do anything?” the sword rejoined. “I don’t have to cut anyone?” There seemed to be an edge of hysteria in its voice.
“Nonsense, big fellow!” Jeffrey objected to the giant’s humility. “It was a wonderful rescue. Even a talking wolf couldn’t have done any better!”
“No blood?” Cuthbert shrilled. “No ichor? No slicing? No dici—“ I slid the sword back into its scabbard. It obviously needed a rest.
The large fellow blushed, his face as crimson as the setting sun. “Well, gee,” he murmured. “It’s so difficult to see what’s going on down there. There was all mis fog, and nobody seemed to be doing much of anything. And then the apprentice yelled. What was I to do? I simply felt it was time to make a giant effort.”
“He’s good on his rescues,” Snarks remarked. “His speeches could use work.”
“Oops,” Richard responded. “But that’s one of my problems. Being a giant is a lonely job.” He sighed. “Think of it. Whenever you hear one of my kind mentioned, it’s almost always in the singular. You know, “There’s a giant tearing up such-and-such a place!’ or ‘A giant’s laying waste to so-and-so’s domain!’ My kind doesn’t like to get together in bunches. A crowd of giants is even too big for us! You know, it’s a wonder my father and mother met at all. Lucky for me, they were terrorizing neighboring kingdoms. Otherwise, I never would have been born!”
“Indeed,” I replied, trying to think of a nice way to quiet the giant down. Not that I wasn’t grateful for our rescue by the big fellow; in fact, I planned to thank him all over again once we had reached safer territory.
Right now, however, we were anything but safe, for I was sure Death still lurked about. We had driven the specter away in its skeletal state, and we had blown away its killer fog. But I had no reason to believe that we had seen the last of it.
“And another thing,” Richard continued. “It’s hard to get close to people. Let’s face it, I could crush any of you without even thinking!”
“Doom,” Hendrek murmured close to my ear. “I think I should take a look around.”
Richard sighed more deeply still. The few trees left in the vicinity bent under the weight of the breeze. “Being a giant isn’t easy. There’s not a lot of us around. It’s very difficult to socialize.”
“Good idea,” I replied to the large warrior. “I fear Death is near us still. Take some of the others with you.”
Hendrek left my side, motioning for Jeffrey, Snarks and Norei to accompany him.
“I suppose that’s why I fell in with Mother Duck,” the giant went on. “She was very good at giving orders. And I found myself very comfortable taking them.”
Hendrek strode forward into the dead forest, the other three forming a tight-knit group behind him. They were a formidable unit. Between Hendrek’s club, Jeffrey’s teeth and claws, Norei’s spells and Snarks’s sharp tongue, they should be able to defeat almost anything thrown against them.
“Still, I found myself increasingly disturbed over Mother Duck’s need to control everybody,” the giant went on, “especially after she got hold of all of you. It took my heart out of gianting.” Richard sighed even more prodigiously. Small branches ripped free of nearby tree trunks.
“Methinks,” he added, “ ‘tis time to go into another line of work.”
There was a moment’s silence. Richard was done at last.
“Have you considered vaudeville?” Hubert suggested.
“Doom!” The intensity of Hendrek’s statement cut short Richard’s answer. We all turned to see what had upset the warrior so.
Hendrek pointed with his warclub at the forest floor.
“The branches,” he intoned, “They are moving of their own accord.”
Now that the warrior mentioned it, I did think I saw pieces of dead wood twisting like snakes through the debris.
“Will they attack us?” Jeffrey whispered.
“Not unless they plan .to attack us with words,” Snarks replied. “They’re forming themselves into letters.”
“Stay close!” Norei warned. “This could be a trick.”
“The perceptiveness of you humans never ceases to astound me,” Snarks commented.
“Doom! They are forming words!”
“Oh, yeah!” Jeffrey frowned as he read, “Sur-ren-der, Wuntvo—“ He looked up at the others. “That’s all it says, so far.”
“Watch out!” Norei yelled.
The animate branches must have finished their spelling, for they rose quickly into the air, heading straight for my four companions.
“Back, foul wood!” Hendrek exclaimed, lifting his club behind his head.
“Urk!” Jeffrey the wolf, who had been standing too close behind the large warrior, replied. Headbasher had done its hellish work again.
But Norei was busy as well. She made three quick passes in the air. The flying branches fell to the ground.
“There!” she said with some satisfaction. “Death will have to do better than that!”
“Who?” Jeffrey queried. “What?” The wolfs voice shifted down a register.
“Indeed,” he said rather more calmly. “Wuntvor, listen quickly.”
I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Master!” I cried.
“Indeed,” the wolf replied. “Death is distracted for the moment by your resourcefulness. But we must make plans for my escape. Death is keeping me prisoner in his king—“
Jeffrey’s mouth snapped shut, but opened a moment later.
“Indeed?” a much drier voice remarked, the sound of sand wearing grooves into granite. “What a clever wizard your Ebenezum is, contacting you behind my back. But no one is cleverer than Death.” The specter laughed, the sound of fish drowning in the open air. The wolf stared with hate-filled eyes, and silence surrounded us, as if all the world was waiting for the words of death.
The wolf looked away from us. “I have had enough nonsense! I think it is time I made my final offer. Listen carefully, if you ever expect to see your wizard again!”
The sages say that’ ‘running is good for the health,” and, for once, I agree with the sages, especially in those cases when one is being chased by anything carrying weapons, claws, legal summons, fire-breathing capability or any combination of the above.”
From The Teachings ofEbenezum, Volume XXXIV.
“Ebenezum is dead,” the wolf said with the specter’s voice, “unless you intervene.” Jeffrey paused to grin. “No, no. ‘Intervene’ is not the proper word. The correct word is ‘sacrifice.’ “
“Indeed?” I responded, my voice strong despite the queasy feeling that threatened to rise from my stomach. Death wanted to talk again. This time I would have to get the information I wanted.
“I should take you now!” the wolf growled. “But no. Coming to me has to be your decision, made with your own free will. Oh, how the fates conspire against me! Otherwise you will continue to be the Eternal Apprentice” the wolf shuddered—“forever. But, should you choose thusly”—Jeffrey allowed himself a deadly smile—“your master will remain with me, forever. Yes, you heard what the clever wizard said. I have already taken him to the Kingdom of the Dead, and the only way he will ever leave is if you replace him.”
“Indeed,” I commented again, doing my best to think fast. “Then you wish me to come with you now, with no argument, no elaboration, nothing whatsoever?”
“Well, yes,” the wolf replied, the slightest doubt entering his spectral voice, “that’s the general idea. Otherwise, you know, your master—“
“Yes, yes, I know all about my master,” I interrupted hastily. “But it does seem rather dull and boring, unimaginative even, for you to simply whisk me away from the land of the living.”
“Dull? Boring? Unimaginative?” Jeffrey gnashed his teeth. “Death is anything but that! I know more interesting ways to die than—“
“I’m certain you do,” I interjected again. “And I’ll be glad to try any of them that you like.”
“You will?” The wolfs mouth opened in surprise. “Any of them?”
“Certainly,” I replied. “You can try three or four of them in a row on me if you like.”
“You mean I can kill the Eternal Apprentice three or four times in a row?” Jeffrey clapped his forepaws. “You’re too good to me. When can we start?”
“Not quite yet,” I answered. “I think we have time to play a little game first.”
“Game?” The wolf paused, scowling at me. “I am the master of games!”
“Indeed.” I allowed myself the slightest of smiles. This was working better than I had hoped. “Then you will not object to playing one with someone as unskilled in gamesmanship as myself. Of course, to keep the game interesting, there will have to be a prize for the winner.”
“A prize?” the Death-wolf retorted vitriolically. “Like the time I arm-wrestled your master, and he tricked me out of an entire kingdom? You must think Death a fool! I will not be swindled like that again!”
“Indeed? Well, if that’s the way you feel about it”—I paused to yawn—“I suppose we have nothing else to talk about.”
“But you’ll never see your master again!” Death declared.
“My master?” I replied quizzically, as if I could barely be bothered to make conversation. “Oh, yes, the wizard. Tis a pity if he has to die, but let’s be realistic. He was rather old already, wasn’t he? How many years would he have left, even if you didn’t take him now?”
“But—“ Death was so astonished that it took the creature a moment to collect its spectral thoughts. Finally, the wolf blurted: “You must save your master!”
“Must I?” I blew casually upon my knuckles. “I don’t see why. Without a game, it hardly seems worth it.”
“Without a game?” The wolf took a deep breath, then laughed, the sound of small plants shriveling beneath a winter’s frost. “Why am I worried? I am the master of games; you have said so yourself. I was defeated once, but it was by your master, a wily old wizard. You are naught but a young and awkward apprentice, even if you are eternal.” Jeffrey once again allowed himself a smile. “Besides, you have made promises to me. You, the Eternal Apprentice. You will die three or four times?”
“If I lose the game?” I shrugged. “I suppose I will have to.”
Death’s laughter redoubled. “You will experience half a dozen deaths before I am through, each one more lingering and unpleasant than the one before! That is our bargain!”
“Indeed?” I replied, still appearing only mildly interested. “I suppose it might be, if—when I win—you return my master to the land of the living unharmed, and take no one else in his stead.”
“Oh, I might as well.” Death chuckled. “Half a dozen deaths!” Jeffrey’s eyes stared into my own.
“So what is the game?” he demanded.
“Indeed,” I replied. This was all going a bit too well. And more than a little too quickly. I allowed myself a world-weary sigh before I spoke again. “Why do we have to rush these matters so? We have just struck the bargain. You must give me some little time to think, so that I might come up with something worthy of your talents.”
“Really?” Death paused for a moment to consider my request. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in allowing you to reflect on your impossible situation for a little while longer. Besides, it will give me a few more hours to gloat. Half a dozen deaths! And they will be quite imaginative deaths, I assure you. Very well. I shall return at midnight.” The wolf winked broadly at me and my assembled companions. “It’s the time of day that suits me best, don’t you think?”
Death laughed again as we were surrounded by a moment of intense wind. And then the gale was gone, as quickly as it had arrived.
Jeffrey blinked. “Hey!” he yelled at Hendrek. “You should watch where you throw that warclub.” The wolf rubbed the hirsute lump atop his head. “Why is everybody staring at me?”
“Doom,” the warrior replied. “You were the vessel for Death.”
Jeffrey took a step away. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to hit me again, does it? Can’t you take a little constructive criticism?”
“No, he can’t,” Snarks replied for the warrior, “though Netherhells knows I’ve tried.”
“But Hendrek isn’t going to attack you again,” I interjected. “He was trying to tell you that when his dread warclub robbed you of your memory, Death stepped in to speak through your temporarily vacated brain, using your mouth and body to give us his ultimatum!”
“Really? Death spoke through me?” The wolf rolled his tongue over his very large incisors. “So that’s why my mouth tastes like rotting leaves.” Jeffrey wrinkled his snout. “Fauugghh! Maybe I should eat something else to clear the pallet. How long has it been since I’ve had a square meal, anyway? And to think I came to Mother Duck’s kingdom because it had a reputation for fine cuisine.”
“Fine cuisine?” Norei replied with some trepidation.
“Doom,” Hendrek added.
“Delicacies,” Jeffrey explained. “You know, pigs, small girls dressed in red, grandmothers. The talking wolfs diet is surprisingly varied.”
Snarks waved at Jeffrey with his staff. “Well, why don’t you be a good talking wolf and go out looking for them? I’m sure there’s a grandmother out there somewhere. In the meantime, we have to make plans.”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
“Your friends are right,” Norei remarked forcefully. “We must plan quickly, but we are only able to plan through your efforts, Wuntvor. You were magnificent, in the way you handled Death.”
Norei took my hand as she spoke, and I could not help but smile when I heard such a compliment from my beloved. Still, as flattering as Norei’s words were, I felt that I did not truly deserve them. Instead, I told my companions I owed it all to my master. I had thought about how Ebenezum had dealt with Death when we had first met the specter, then done nothing more than follow the wizard’s example.
“You are too modest—“ Norei began.
“That’s almost as good as Brownie Power!” Tap added.
“I always knew he had greatness in him,” the unicorn interjected. “What an apprentice! What a lap!”
The dwarves cheered as one:
“Ho hi, ho hi, He’s our kind of guy!”
“So what is your plan?” Snarks interrupted.
I told them I didn’t have one.
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked.
I explained that my experience with the wizard only went so far. Ebenezum had taught me how to find Death’s weaknesses. However, now that I had found them, I wasn’t too sure what to do with them. My master had used a combination of arm wrestling and sneezing to defeat the specter before. But Death would be ready for similar tricks. If I wanted to defeat Death and regain my master, I would have to devise something entirely new.
“So you have absolutely no plan whatsoever?” Snarks clarified.
“Indeed,” I replied.
“Doom,” Hendrek chorused.
The Seven Other Dwarves stepped forward.
“Hi haid, hi haid, Wuntvor needs our aid!”
Smarmy took an extra step forward. He held forth a large glass sphere.
“Beg pardon,” the self-effacing dwarve remarked. “But, worthless though we may be, we thought we might be able to make some small, pitiful contribution to the continuation of your noble quest. In that spirit, we have made some efforts, minuscule though they may be, to procure something that, even in some insubstantial way, you might use to—“
“Shut up and give him the thing!” Nasty called.
“Oh, my,” Smarmy replied. “Oh, yes.”
I took the glass globe from his outstretched hands.
“It’s a crystal ball,” Norei said, a bit of wonder in her voice. “Isn’t it?”
“Oh, my,” Smarmy answered. “Oh—yes, it is. Not much of a crystal ball, perhaps, but it was the best we poor, insignificant—“
“It looks like a very nice crystal ball to me,” Norei interrupted. “Doesn’t it, Wuntvor?”
“Indeed,” I answered. “I am quite flattered. Wherever—“
“We stole it from Mother Duck!” Nasty brayed. “She has tons of this stuff. Claims she needs it for her fairy stories!”
“I hope it’s all right.” Smarmy sighed. “It was so hard finding something appropriate. You already had an enchanted weapon and any number of magical companions. I mean, what do you give to the apprentice who has everything?”
“Indeed,” I replied heartily. “How does it work?”
Smarmy hit his forehead with both of his wringing hands. “Oh! How forgetful can I be? There’s a rhyme that goes with it!” He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to me.
“The Incantation,” the parchment read. “Be sure to state quickly and in a loud voice:
“Secret sphere, seashore seer, Surely showing sunshine seeking. Simply said, the shaft is shed, Spouting spells that send us shrieking!”
“It should be clear enough,” Smarmy prompted. “Just recite the incantation, and the crystal will show you whatever you wish. What could be simpler? And once you get the hang of it, it will show you anything, or anyone, you want.”
“Indeed?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. “Including my master?”
“Oops!” the giant interrupted from on high.
All conversation ceased down below. Considering what had transpired before, when Richard said “Oops,” we listened.
“What is the matter?” I called aloft.
The giant scraped a foot along the ground. The one tree still standing in his vicinity was reduced to splinters.
“I would like to ask a boon,” Richard said meekly.
“Indeed,” I answered. ‘If it is in my power, you shall have it.”
The giant smiled. “Good. What should I do next?”
“Beg pardon?” I asked, for I did not quite understand his request.
“Well, mat is, you see, I told you about Mother Duck’s need to control everything? Including me?”
“Indeed?”
Richard shook his head unhappily. “I got used to it. Without her to boss me around, I’m not quite sure what to do.”
The Seven Other Dwarves nodded sympathetically.
“We know exactly what the giant’s talking about!” Smarmy exclaimed. “Now that Mother Duck is gone, we have all the freedom we want. But what do we want to do with it?”
“Oh, wow,” Spacey ventured.
“We could travel,” Sickly coughed. “I wouldn’t mind a better climate.”
“Move somewhere that had a better class of creatures,” Snooty mentioned.
“Sneak up behind people and scream,” Noisy suggested.
“How about finding new and interesting things to drop?” Clumsy asked.
“You see?” Smarmy interjected. “It’s so difficult to find a consensus!”
“Oops,” Richard agreed. “But you haven’t answered my question. What am I supposed to do? What is my function in the story? I need direction. I need motivation.”
“Indeed,” I murmured. “That’s a big problem.”
“Exactly,” the giant stated. “Free will can be frightening.”
“Might I again suggest vaudeville?” Hubert interjected helpfully. “There’s very little free will involved.”
“But there is a lot of dancing,” Alea said.
“Dancing?” The giant looked doubtfully down to his feet.
“And snappy patter!” Hubert quickly added.
“Snappy patter?” Richard sounded interested. “That might be nice. Life gets tedious when all you can ever say is Time for Mother Duck’s ovens.’ A constant diet of threats is so limiting.”
It seemed to me that I should add something to this conversation as well. It also seemed to me that there had to be other options beyond vaudeville.
“Indeed—“ I began, but was distracted by a high-pitched sound that was rapidly approaching.
“Eep eep!” a tiny voice cried. “Eep eep!”
I would recognize those eeps anywhere. It was my magic ferret, back from doing whatever magic ferrets do.
“I think he’s trying to tell you something!”
There was an intensity to the ferret’s cries that I had not heard before. Could it be an eep of warning?
“Oops,” Richard called down to us. “I think my hours of indecision are over.”
“What is the matter?” Norei shouted her concern.
The giant frowned down at her. “Remember that Netherhells battle taking place two valleys over? Well, they’re not fighting anymore.”
“Indeed,” I shouted to him, wishing for some further explanation. “Is everybody gone?”
“No, not everybody.” Richard sighed. “Well, I guess it was time to get back to work, anyway. It was fun having freedom while it lasted.”
“Doom,” Hendrek interjected, as the Seven Other Dwarves explained the giant’s behavior in song:
“Ho hack, ho hack, Mother Duck is back!”
So that was what my ferret was trying to tell me!
Beloved pet that he was, he had left us to watch Mother
Duck, so that he might warn us if she had won the battle. “Good ferret!” I enthused. “Excellent ferret!” “Eep eep!” the ferret answered happily. “Eep eep eep!” “Then we are surely doomed to a life of fairy tales!”
Smarmy wailed.
“Indeed,” I replied calmly. “I think not.”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked, shifting his deadly warclub from hand to hand. “Then it is not too late to fight?” “Not at all. Rather, it is not too late to run.” I pointed at the nearby warning signs. “We are already on the edge of the Eastern Kingdoms. I suggest we begin traveling out of them, as of now.”
And travel we did. After all, I had learned more than a few simple spells from the greatest wizard in the Western
Kingdoms. I had learned all about escape routes as well.
Giants (see figure 346B) are your friends. Anything that large is your friend. Trust me. And if you find out I’m wrong, you can always will this book to your next of kin.
From Ebenezum’s Handy Guide to Woodland Creatures (with accompanying illustrations), fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
I scooped up the crystal ball as I ran from the clearing into the woods. In the distance, I could hear a woman’s voice.
“Richard, I see you! Come back here, you coward!”
“Oops!” Richard answered. A great cloud appeared over me and my companions. I didn’t realize until it fell to earth a quarter mile in front of us that it was the giant’s foot. Richard was running with us.
“Wuntvor!” Norei called from my side. “Where are we going?”
“Back toward Vushta!” I replied. “At least for the time being.”
“Doom,” Hendrek interjected from where he lumbered at Norei’s side. “The time being?”
I nodded. “Until we can think of a better way to rescue Ebenezum.”
“Make way!” a magnificent voice shouted as a brilliant blur of white galloped past, twisting suddenly to avoid a tight copse of trees. “It is best that a beast with a beautiful and deadly horn should lead the way.”
“Sounds good to me,” Snarks sneered from my other side. “That way, none of us will have to listen while the creature preens.”
The two other demons were right on our heels, for I could hear the larger of them going on, with drum accompaniment, about “Guxx Unfufadoo, running demon.”
“You’ll pardon us if we fly on ahead,” Hubert called over his flapping wings, “but this retreat seems a bit overcrowded.”
“We’ll meet you up ahead,” Alea added. “In the Central Kingdoms. That way, we’ll get a little time alone to practice some new material.”
“Wait for that indispensable talking wolf!” shouted a voice some distance behind us. And I could hear other voices, even more distant.
“Hi hort, hi hort, To bad our legs are short!”
Fainter even than the song of the Seven Other Dwarves was a faraway, out-of-breath eeping. It sounded as if my ferret, after rushing to warn me of Mother Duck, was now too exhausted to escape!
I jiggled the pocket of my jerkin with my free hand.
“Tap!” I called. “It’s time for Brownie Power!”
“Now?” The little fellow grabbed the top of the pocket and glared out at me. “Are you sure?”
Tap did not look at all well. He appeared to be shivering—either that, or it was the movement of my pocket bouncing up and down as I jogged. He was entirely the wrong color as well, altogether too green for a Brownie. Of course, that also might be attributable to my jouncing pocket. I frowned at the wee man. Apparently, our recent scrape with Death, combined, perhaps, with the Brownie’s cur- rent mode of transportation, had had a negative effect on the smalt fellow.
“That’s telling him!” Snarks exclaimed, smiling at Tap’s shivering form. “As far as we’re concerned, it’s never time for Brownie Power!”
“What? Huh?” Tap stood tall, his head clearing the top of my pocket by an inch or more. “No, His Brownieship would never let me back in if I think like that.” He took a deep breath. “A Brownie must be ever alert, ever vigilant and ever ready to make shoes. That’s part of the Brownie Creed! Where do you need Brownie Power? I’m ready now!”
“How noble!” Norei remarked with her beautiful smile.
“Doom!” Hendrek rumbled. “What self-sacrifice!”
“How sickening!” Snarks added.
I ignored all of them as I quickly told the Brownie my plan. There were members of our company who were lagging behind, who might soon be overtaken and once again subjugated by Mother Duck. There was only one way to save them: through the magic of Brownie transportation.
“A difficult job,” Tap agreed. “But Brownie Power is up to it! Brownie Power is up to anything!”
“I’ve personally had Brownie Power up to here,” Snarks remarked, but Tap was already gone, vanished with one of those smoke-producing-tiny-explosions he had.
“Richard!” Mother Duck’s voice called again. She sounded as if she was drawing closer. How could someone of her advanced years move that quickly?
“Oops!” Richard shouted from some distance up ahead. “Goodbye!” The giant began to run, his first two steps sending tremors that threatened to knock us from our feet. Then he jumped over a low mountain range and disappeared from sight.
“Richard?” Mother Duck’s voice protested shrilly. “What am I going to do without a giant? I mean, Jack-die-Very-Tall-Person-Killer simply doesn’t sound right. Richard!”
But the giant was gone. And suddenly Mother Duck did not sound quite so close as before. Perhaps she had stopped her pursuit. It was then that I realized that the intervening woods prevented the woman from seeing the rest of us. Maybe she would stop now, exhausted from her earlier battle, and never realize her former victims were within easy recapture. If, somehow, we could increase slightly the distance between us; if, perhaps, we could remain quiet but for a few more moments—
There was a moderate explosion in our midst.
“Eep eep!” the ferret remarked.
“What a way for talking wolves to travel!” Jeffrey complained.
“Hey!” Noisy added enthusiastically. “That was great!”
“No,” Tap groaned, falling to his knees. “That was Brownie Power! Eleven at one blow!” He fell face-first into the din.
“There’s something in these woods, isn’t there?” Mother Duck called from some distance behind us.
I quickly stuffed the Brownie back in my pocket.
“Indeed,” I suggested. “I don’t think we should be out here for long.” I picked up the ferret as well, returning the small, furry creature to my pack.
“I hear you!” Mother Duck called somewhat more forcefully than before. “Don’t think that you can escape me!”
“Doom,” Hendrek rumbled as he glanced over his shoulder. “What should we do now?”
“Run even faster!” I replied, for I had seen a sign up ahead:
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE CENTRAL KINGDOMS THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS!
I did not know if leaving Mother Duck’s domain would actually help us. But it certainly wouldn’t hurt.
We made it to the sign in a matter of moments, but not without some difficulty. The Seven Other Dwarves gasped behind me as one:
“Ho heth, ho hem, We are quite out of breath!”
I paused to look behind us. It couldn’t be! But it was. I could already see Mother Duck’s figure darting rapidly through the trees.
“It’s hopeless, you know!” she yelled for our benefit. “Once you visit Mother Duck, you visit her forever!”
The old woman seemed to be running at a speed five times as fast as a normal person. At this rate, she would overtake us in a couple minutes.
“How can she—“ I began.
“In Mother Duck’s kingdom”—Smarmy wheezed—“Mother Duck can do anything.”
“Doom,” Hendrek pointed out. “But we are no longer in Mother Duck’s kingdom.”
“Exactly,” Norei stated, pulling back her sleeves to give her hands more room to conjure. “Allow me.”
She made a rapid series of passes through the air, followed by a quick string of words of power. And the woods between us and Mother Duck started to grow.
Trees sprouted new branches pointing toward the ground, while bushes doubled their height in the blink of an eye. Dead leaves spread upon the ground turned green again and sent shoots into the soft earth, turning into a field of strong young saplings before us. Snarks yelled in surprise as his stout oak staff took root in the dirt between his feet, while the rest of us gasped in awe as the “You are now entering the Central Kingdoms” sign sprouted a hundred tiny branches, spreading from the square of wood like ripples from a pond, and completing, in concert with the trees and bushes, an impenetrable wall of vegetation.
“Not bad, huh?” Norei allowed.
“Indeed!” I enthused, looking at my beloved with renewed admiration. “What a wonderful spell!”
Norei blushed, the color on her cheeks making her even more beautiful than before. “ Twas not all that special. Naught but a simple wild-agricultural-growth spell, slightly amended to allow for forest conditions.”
“Doom,” Hendrek interjected. “But will it stop Mother Duck?”
“I think it has a chance,” Norei answered. “You see, if the spell has worked properly, it has not only formed the impenetrable forest wall that you see before you. In addition, the magic should continue to replicate itself upon the other side, causing the dense growth to push into the Eastern Kingdoms, straight for Mother Duck. She will have to stop that part of the spell first before she can hope to clear a path through this enchanted forest to reach us.” My beloved paused, taking a deep breath. “I may not be able to stop Mother Duck, but I can certainly slow her down.”
“Very impressive,” Snarks commented. “Why didn’t you do it before?”
But the demon’s query didn’t phase the beautiful witch in the least.
“Before,” she replied, “we were in the Eastern Kingdoms, a locale that seems to increase Mother Duck’s sorceries while dampening all other magicks. Now, however, we are beyond the influence of her spells. Outside of her kingdom, I imagine the two of us are more or less equals. And, this time, I had surprise on my side.”
“Indeed,” I beamed at my beloved. “Then what shall we do now?”
Norei smiled at me, dimpling prettily. “I suggest we resume running. My spell will not contain Mother Duck forever.”
“Indeed!” I called to the others. “Let’s go then, as quick as we can!”
We continued our flight at a brisk trot. The greater the distance we put between ourselves and Mother Duck, I reasoned, the more chance we had of escaping her altogether. Then, with any luck, we would catch up with Hubert and Alea, and perhaps even Richard the giant.
But what should we do after we rendezvoused with the others? Perhaps, as we continued to move quickly, I should try to contact my master.
I looked at the crystal ball, which I had been carrying all the while in my hand. But where had I put the incantation?
I excused myself as I reached into my pocket, but the Brownie was sound asleep, exhausted from his earlier exertions. I managed to find the parchment tucked behind him and, with some little difficulty, drew it forth. I shook the paper open with a flick of my wrist and once again read the magic words:
“Secret sphere, seashore seer, Surely showing sunshine seeking ...”
I had to read it “quickly and in a loud voice” according to the directions.
“Secret sphere,” I began, “sheshore sheer—“ No, that wasn’t quite right, was it?”
“Oh, dear,” Snarks remarked solicitously. “Are you developing a stutter?”
“Doom,” Hendrek replied forcefully. “He is using the crystal ball. Let him be.”
Everyone around me quieted, waiting. The hush made me a little nervous. What if nothing happened?
I rushed through the incantation as best I could.
“Well?” Snarks asked at the conclusion of the rhyme.
“Doom,” Hendrek rumbled again. “Give him time.”
“Look!” Norei pointed to the crystal. “Something’s happening!”
And it was. The globe, once transparent, was now filled with a gray mist, upon which I could see flashes of yellow light. But it was more than mere pyrotechnics, for the light formed itself into letters, and the letters into words.
“There is a message!” I announced, and proceeded to read aloud:
“We are,” the message began, words swirling through the mist for an instant and then gone, “sorry, but we are unable ... to complete your call ... as spoken . . . Please release ... the crystal . . . and try again.”
“You call that a message?” Snarks asked.
“Doom,” Hendrek began, but I waved them both to silence.
“Indeed,” I remarked. “It is my own fault, for trying to conjure in flight. I fear I cannot run and read at the same time. I will use the crystal ball again when we stop to rest.” Whenever that might be.
A loud voice hailed us from up ahead, where the forest ended at a towering cliff face.
“Hey, folks! It’s us: the lady who wows all the males and the reptile with the winning scales!”
I would recognize that patter anywhere. It was Damsel and Dragon. I waved to the large purplish-blue reptile. Perhaps, when we reached them and regrouped, I would get a moment’s respite to reuse the crystal.
“Oops!” an even louder voice remarked. Richard the giant peeked out from around the cliff face. “I was hiding.”
“Indeed!” I shouted ahead. “ Tis a pleasure to see you!” Now that we had left Mother Duck behind, having a giant on our side could be nothing but a boon.
“Once I jumped over the mountain, I circled around,” the giant confided. “Mother Duck will never find me now!”
But another voice, clear yet distant, was carried by the breeze.
“Richard, you coward!” the woman screamed. “You won’t escape me again!”
Always make the best use of your resources. Magic, escape routes, hungry demons, annoying in-laws: All can be used constructively by the creative wizard. And should you add, say, an irate client who is annoyed that an unforeseen side effect of your most recent spell has turned his wife into a chicken, well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the possibilities for combinations are almost limitless.
From No Bad Wizards: A Study of Sorcerers and How to Train Them, fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
“Oops,” Richard remarked.
“Doom,” Hendrek answered.
“Run!” I commanded. “If need be, to the Inland Sea!”
But then I had another thought as the rest of our party took off at a brisk trot. It had taken us a good two days to reach the Eastern Kingdoms from Vushta. There was no way we could run all the way back. I looked up at our very large companion.
“Richard, might you wait a minute?”
The giant paused mid-stride. “But Mother Duck—“ he protested.
“Indeed,” I replied. “I fear she might dog our footsteps forever, unless we devise a plan. She moved with astonishing speed when still in her kingdom. Even now, I imagine, she probably follows us with a pace and agility amazing for one of her advanced years. But how can any old lady, no matter how magically inclined, hope to catch up with a giant?”
“Oops,” Richard responded. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you start now,” I explained patiently, “you will easily outdistance Mother Duck. I imagine you could outdistance anyone, except for other giants.”
Richard nodded, still dumbfounded.
I continued: “But Mother Duck is magical enough so that she might be able to overtake the rest of us, and once again subjugate us to her will.”
“Doom,” Hendrek interjected from some fifty paces ahead.
“And that would leave you without your newfound companions,” I further explained, “who are here to help you find new direction in the world beyond the Eastern Kingdoms.”
The giant nodded again, his forehead slowly uncreasing.
“I see you, Richard!” Mother Duck called again, this time louder, and closer, than before. “Wait until I get my spells on you!”
“Oops!” Richard commented with some consternation, frowning in the direction of the Eastern Kingdoms.
“Ignore her,” I informed the giant. “If there was some way she could have affected you at this distance, she would have done so already.”
“If you say so,” the giant replied without much conviction in his voice.
“Indeed,” I responded with my most reassuring tone. “As I was saying—if you are left alone, or we are left without you, we shall all surely once again fall prey to Mother Duck. But there is another way—a way we can combine your speed and our cunning—and that’s if you pick us up and take us with you.”
“Oops!” Richard smiled slowly, rather like a shadow creeping across the full moon. “What a good idea!” He began to pat various parts of his pants legs, producing sounds not unlike thunder echoing in the mountains.
“Indeed,” I prompted. “Then my plan will work?”
“Oops,” Richard answered. “It will if I have enough pockets.” He gave up examining his pants and laid his hand, palm up, across half the field-size clearing. “Climb aboard.”
I did as I was bade and, a moment later, found myself tucked in the giant’s shirt pocket.
Richard took a tiny step forward so that he stood directly behind our fleeing company.
“Hey!” Snarks shouted with alarm. “Watch your feet!”
“Oops,” Richard rumbled, but I cut him off, quickly explaining, in as loud a voice as I could muster, my plans to the others.
“Oh, my clever Wuntvor!” Norei enthused. Even though I was quite some distance away, I could still imagine the sweet smile upon her lovely face. I wondered for an instant if there was some way to discreetly ask Richard to place the young witch in the same pocket with me.
The dwarves cheered as well:
“Hi hicket, hi hicket,
That Wuntvor’s just the ticket!”
Everyone else, with the possible exception of Guxx, seemed generally in favor of the plan. Even Hendrek’s “Doom” sounded somewhat more cheerful than usual.
“Don’t you go anywhere, Richard!” Mother Duck’s ever-more-forceful voice called from somewhere not all that far to our rear.
“Commence!” Guxx commanded his drum-wielding cohort. Brax beat, but both were scooped up immediately by Richard, and any further drum beating and declamation was soon lost behind the thick fabric of the giant’s britches.
Richard hurriedly picked up the remaining members of my retinue, stuffing them in various pockets upon his person. There was some grumbling among the compan- ions, especially when Snarks found he was going to have to share pocket space with the unicorn, while Jeffrey exclaimed that someone with the stature of a talking wolf should surely be shown to a pocket above the belt. Still, only Hubert refused to be carried away, saying it would be better for all concerned if he and Alea flew on ahead.
“Indeed,” I remarked as Richard pocketed the last of the dwarves in a small denim envelope slightly above his knee. “If we are all tucked firmly away—“
“If you know what’s good for you, Richard,” Mother Duck’s very forceful voice interrupted, “you’ll stand there until I get a little closer!”
“Oops!” Richard replied as he took off at an earthshak-ing pace.
We reached the Inland Sea in a little under three minutes. Richard stopped abruptly on the shore.
“Pardon me,” he murmured, “but I’m a little afraid of water.”
I assured the giant it was quite all right, and pointed to Vushta in the near distance. We were surrounded by silence, the only sounds the lapping of the waves by Richard’s feet and the screams of gulls circling his brow. We had left Mother Duck far behind.
“Indeed,” I said at last, reluctantly breaking into the first peaceful moment we had experienced since the heavens knew when. “It is perhaps time to place my companions and myself back on the ground. If we are all to proceed to Vushta, I believe it is advisable that I lead the way to provide the introductions.”
“Oops,” Richard nodded in understanding. “Unintro-duced giants tend to bring out the worst in people.”
The giant proceeded to unload us all from his various pockets.
“Begin!” Guxx screamed as he hit the ground. This time, he would not be denied.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, dissheveled demon, Does not belong in giant’s pocket; Has words to say to those who’ll listen! Those that don’t will feel his anger!”
“The big fellow couldn’t be the slightest bit annoyed?” Snarks ventured.
“And justifiably so!” Jeffrey snapped. “Here he is, the former ruler of the Netherhells, and he got a pocket even lower than mine.”
“Indeed!” I said, hoping to halt this line of conversation before it became another full-fledged argument. Guxx Un-fufadoo, the former Grand Hoohah (whatever that was) of all the Netherhells, was used to being obeyed, feared and fled from. He was not used to being ignored; and that was what my companions and I had been doing ever since Death arrived upon the scene. Still, there was no time to lose. Was there some way to assuage this demon’s anger while we went about finding a way to save my master?
“Continue!” Guxx roared.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, annoyed demon, Will stand no more of this abusive Treatment that’s unfit for heroes, Wants a say in future ventures!”
Oh, dear. This was worse than I thought. Guxx wanted a say in our decision making? Somehow, I had to quiet the demon down now.
“Indeed,” I began again. But now that he had gotten started, Guxx would let no one interrupt.
“Amplify!” he shrieked. Brax beat the drum even more vigorously.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, angered demon, Has decided to speak loudly Will decree that all shall listen, Will stand alone as Wuntvor’s partner!”
Stand alone? Wuntvor’s partner? Guxx flexed his long, razor-sharp claws to punctuate his demands. His statements were becoming more outrageous with every declamation. But what could I do to stop them?
“There you are!” Hubert the dragon called from somewhere above. “It’s taken us a minute to catch up with you. I must say, Richard, when you want to move, you move!”
“Oops,” Richard agreed.
Hubert swooped down to land.
“Overwhelm!” the former Grand Hoohah bellowed.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, outraged demon—“
“Someone’s declaiming?” Hubert remarked brightly as he landed. “Does that mean it’s time for a little musical number?”
“Has no time for—Musical number?”
Guxx’s voice died in his throat.
“Indeed,” I insisted to both demon and dragon. “No.”
I looked about at my remaining companions. “There are obviously many issues that must be resolved concerning our quest. However, I should suggest that, rather than pausing to discuss our problems in the wild, it would be much better to debate them in the much safer confines of the College of Wizards in Vushta.”
“Wuntvor?” Norei said softly. “Might I make a suggestion?”
I asked her to proceed.
“I was wondering,” she remarked gently, “should we go to Vushta? There might be a few problems. The city might be full of wizards, but when we left them, they were all sneezing.”
“Indeed,” I replied, giving myself a moment to think, something that had been virtually impossible during our recent flight and subsequent demon declaiming. As usual, my beloved was all too correct. My master’s malady had been passed on to the other wizards of Vushta, a malady that caused each and every wizard to sneeze violently when confronted by a mystic spell or a magical being. They had had enough trouble before, with unicorns and demons in their midsts. I shuddered now to think how the amassed noses of greater Vushta would react if we brought a giant among them.
Worse still, I had been sent by these amassed wizards to the Eastern Kingdoms to enlist the aid of Mother Duck in our fight against the Netherhells and, if possible, to see if she might know of a cure for the wizards’ affliction. How would the magicians feel now if I returned to them empty-handed?
It was a quandary. I glanced about at my fellows, wondering if any of them could offer the advice I needed. But the one man whose wisdom was sorely needed was not among us. I sighed.
What would my master do?
I thought about the dwarves’ gift, now safely tucked away in my pack. Mother Duck was miles behind, and Death seemed unlikely to make an appearance so close to a place teaming with life as the City of a Thousand Forbidden Delights. Perhaps it was time once again to consult the crystal ball.
“Indeed,” I said to the others. “You have brought up weighty matters. It is time, perhaps, to consult powers greater than my own.”
I opened the pack and, after pausing briefly to pet the ferret, extracted the globe. I reached into my pocket and nudged past the still-sleeping Brownie to retrieve the folded piece of parchment. I silently reread the incantation:
Secret sphere, seashore seer, Surely showing sunshine seeking. Simply said, the shaft is shed, Spouting spells that send us shrieking.
I took a deep breath. It was now or never. But I would say the words more carefully than before, cautious to avoid the strange message I received when I first attempted to use the mystic crystal. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as quickly spoken as the incantation instructions urged, but I would manage somehow.
And manage I did, on only the third try. I peered, deep within the magic ball.
There was something happening! In fact, I could hear voices! I brought the milky globe close to my ear so that I might better discern the words. The one speaking now had a high and brittle tone, like that of a woman of advanced years. Yes! I understood her quite clearly now:
“Then I said to the swami, ‘If you call that fortune-telling, I’ve got some swampland I could sell—‘ Hey, who’s that?”
So the mystic globe discerned my presence! But how should I address this magic ball? Politely, I decided after a moment, but directly.
“Indeed,” I replied deferentially. “I am Wuntvor the apprentice. I’m trying to reach my master, the great wizard Ebenezum.”
“He is Wuntvor the apprentice, trying to reach the great wizard,” the voice mimicked. “Hey, don’t you know this is a party crystal? What do you mean, eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“Party crystal?” I replied. “Eavesdropping?” But I could concoct no coherent reply. I could only think of one thing: that this woman would keep me from reaching my master!
“But madam!” I pleaded. “It is a matter of life or death!”
“Life, smife,” the voice snorted. “That’s what they all say. Well, I’ll have you know that Mabel and I haven’t had a good conversation in over a week!”
“But Vushta—“ I sputtered. “Sneezing wizards! Imminent demon attacks from the NetherheUs! My master, trapped in the Kingdom of the Dead!”
“What is this, a nuisance call?” The voice in the crystal was getting annoyed. “There’s no need to get uppity. And there’s no reason for you to feel put out. If you can’t stand to wait your turn, you should have gotten yourself a private ball. Now, go away! I have a conversation to finish.—So, anyways, the Swami says to me, ‘How dare you! A curse upon your firstborn!’ Well, Mabel, I just had to laugh. You know how my eldest is, always taking his mother for granted. Maybe, I thought, if he has a curse on him, he’ll write to me for a change—“
It was hopeless. I placed the glass globe back in my sack. What should I do?
The wind was picking up. Sand whipped up from the beach, stinging my face. I worried about this sudden change in the weather.
Death often announced itself with the wind. Did I hear some sounds carried by this stiffening breeze, sounds like boulders being ground to dust? No, that wasn’t quite it. There was something else there instead, something faint, a woman’s voice calling a single name.
Richard.
I shivered. It seemed as if Death was near, and Mother Duck wasn’t far behind.
“Sounds pretty bad,” Snarks agreed as he stepped forward from my companions. “That crazy old lady is coming for the giant, and it looks like we might get another visit from the death of the party. There’s no way we can go back to Vushta, ‘cause we flubbed the quest. And let’s face it, it wasn’t even much of a quest in the first place. And then there’s that wizard of yours, but I guess, if you feel you’ve got to save him, you’ve got to save him.”
I nodded. The demon had, in his own inimitable way, summarized our situation.
“You agree?” Snarks continued. “Very well. I think it’s time you listened to me.”
“Indeed?” I replied.
The demon nodded in turn, showing his mottled gray teeth in a fiendish smile.
“I have apian.”
There is absolutely no truth to the rumors of impropriety. And those seven women leaving my room in quick succession was simply a coincidence. If you’ll excuse me—you’re blocking my escape route.
Further testimony from Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms, concerning Wizardgate
“Indeed?”
“It has to do with my extensive religious background,” the demon confided.
I stared at the small green figure. We had first met the demon when he was part of a small hermetic order that somehow had bent the rules sufficiently so that they not only spoke to other people but charged them to stay overnight at their elaborate hovel. And that order had had a close, personal relationship with a very minor deity.
“Do you mean?” I blurted.
“Yes,” Snarks confirmed. “Death believes it has us trapped, for, so long as we are upon this mortal plain, it can surround us at any moment. Even worse, while we are avoiding Death, we might run directly into the extremely annoying Mother Duck. And Vushta cannot save us, for the city is filled with sneezing wizards. There is only one hope. We must appeal to a higher authority. We must contact Plaugg, the moderately glorious!”
“Indeed?” I replied, stunned by the audacity of the demon’s suggestion. “But isn’t that going to be rather difficult?” I remembered how long it took Plaugg to pay attention the last time.
“Unfortunately correct,” Snarks agreed. “Plaugg, praise his just barely illustrious name, might be a semiomnipotent deity, but he isn’t a very attentive one. I have a feeling it has something to do with an unhappy homclife. But now is not the time for idle ecclesiastical speculation. It is, rather, time to contact Plaugg.”
The demon sidled even closer to me, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. “We who worship the intermittently influential gods have a saying: If you can’t get the deity to come to you, you’d better go to the deity. Besides, you are in constant danger when on this mortal coil. I suggest, therefore, that you leave this coil for a friendlier clime. And where could you go? You’ve already gone down once. Now it’s time to go up.”
“Up?” I queried, even more flabbergasted than before. “You mean up in the heavens, among the deities?”
Snarks waved away my objections with a flick of a sickly green claw. “Well, surely, that’s not such a big deal. Plaugg, bless his modestly exalted being, is pretty low on the ladder up there, I assure you. We should be able to sneak in without any trouble whatsoever.”
“We?” I said. “Sneak in?”
“Simply leave all the fine points to me,” Snarks assured me. “And I’m afraid I have to go along. After all, I’m the one with the history of Plaugg worship, praise his reasonably adequate name.”
“Indeed,” I commented. I felt I needed a moment to consider this radical suggestion. I folded my arms across my chest in an attempt to protect myself from the increasingly chill breeze.
My beloved stroked my cheek, a gesture I instantly wished she would repeat any number of times. She whis- pered my name, so common-sounding when spoken by others, but music when it issued from her lips.
“Indeed?” I queried, my throat suddenly dry.
“As surprising as Snarks’s suggestion may be,” Norei ventured gently, “I fear it may be our only hope.” She pointed at the shifting sands: “Look.”
I followed her pointing finger and saw the words etched across the beach:
“Wuntvor. You cannot escape.”
They were Death’s words, formed by his control of the elements. Death was again carried by the wind.
“Doom,” Hendrek muttered darkly. “Will this never end?”
But the breeze also carried other things, like the ever-strengthening voice of Mother Duck:
“Richard! Don’t you dare move again!”
“Oops,” Richard moaned. “Won’t I ever get away?”
“Indeed!” I called to the others. “We must act quickly!” But what, I thought, should we do?
“We will need the assistance of the others,” Snarks resumed hastily. “Hubert, for one.”
“Me?” the dragon said. “This little green person, who cannot even appreciate the fine points of vaudeville, actually wants help from me?”
“Certainly,” Snarks replied, for once not answering the large reptile’s sarcasm. “We need someone to fly us to heaven.”
“To heaven?” Alea questioned nervously. “Are you sure that can be done?”
Snarks smiled. “Trust me.”
“Heaven?” Hubert shook his great wings and spouted a gout of flame. “Why not? It’s worth a try. Think of the publicity value if it works!”
“And we’ll get a brand-new audience besides!” Alea added, convinced by the demon, and dragon.
“Alas,” Snarks quickly clarified. “I’m afraid that the damsel will have to stay behind.”
“What?” Hubert protested. “And break up the act?”
“There’s no room,” Snarks explained.
“I could hold on to Wuntie’s waist,” Alea ventured. “You’d hardly know I was there!”
Snarks shook his sickly green head. “Too much weight.”
“Too much weight?” Alea exploded. “Why, you undersized excuse for a—“
“Sorry,” the demon interrupted, “but once we go, we have to go in a hurry. We want to get beyond Death’s domain as quickly as possible.”
“Beyond Death’s domain?” Hubert said doubtfully. “I don’t think I can fly that fast.”
“Oh, I’ve thought of that, too.” Snarks looked up at the giant. “Richard?”
“Oops,” the giant replied.
“How are you at tossing things?” the demon asked.
“Well,” the giant considered. “My aim’s not too good. But I can toss a pretty fair distance.”
“The very answer I was looking for. We’re going to need you to toss the dragon, with Wuntvor and me strapped on his back, straight up in the air.”
“Straight up?” The giant looked doubtfully into the sky. “I’ll try.”
“Interject!” a gruff voice screamed, accompanied by rapid drumbeats.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, confused demon, Wants to know just what is happening; Wants to know how he fits into Wuntvor’s plan to save his master!”
“Indeed!” I spoke quickly, for I knew that, with Death and Mother Duck nearby, there was no time to waste. “You will have a most important role, Guxx. For, when Hubert, Snarks and I are sent aloft, we will need others down below to lead the rest of my companions to safety. I have decided to appoint Norei the witch as your leader, for her magic might be needed to save you all. However, we will need more than magic to see us through. I therefore pronounce you, Guxx Unfufadoo, as Chief Protector and Keeper of the Claws for my companions. It is now your duty to see that no one comes to harm!”
“Comment!” Guxx commanded. Brax beat a rapid rhythm.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, honored demon, Likes to be called the protector, Enjoys the chance to do some shredding; Thinks the job’s right up his alley!”
“Indeed, I replied, glad that I had at least temporarily satisfied the large demon. I turned to my beloved. “Once we are aloft, I think that Death will no longer bother you. For the time being, at least, he wants only me. Therefore, you need only avoid Mother Duck. I believe the best way to accomplish this is to take the remains of our party back into Vushta, and inform the wizards there as to the—uh—direction my quest has taken. Even in their impaired state, I think that the magic of those wizards, combined with whatever spells you might muster, will easily keep Mother Duck at bay.”
“Wuntvor!” Norei enthused. “What a good plan!”
“I like a man who can take control!” Alea agreed.
The Seven Other Dwarves chimed in:
“Hi hense, hi hense, He makes a lot of sense.”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked. “I shall use my mighty warclub Headbasher to smash our way to Vushta if I must, wading waist-deep through the broken, bloody bodies of our foes!”
“And if that doesn’t work,” Brax interjected, “I have a small but sophisticated selection of previously owned weapons, available at ridiculously marked-down prices to any here who need them. I mean, I’m practically giving them away!”
“And I shall lead them into Vushta as quickly as I can,” Norei said as she leaned close to .me. Her lips brushed against my nose. “Now go! Get up on that dragon and fly!”
I remembered to breathe. My lungs had stopped all of their own accord when my beloved’s lips had touched my face. I nodded dumbly and staggered over toward the dragon. My nose tingled where Norei had kissed it. Snarks was right behind me, pushing me a bit here and there when I wandered away from the proper path.
“I’ll add my services, too,” Jeffrey the wolf assured me as I climbed upon Hubert’s back. “I’m not averse to eating a foe in the line of duty. And who knows, maybe some of the foes will be pigs—or grandmothers!”
The unicorn trotted up beside Jeffrey as Snarks clambered up behind me. The beast gave a single shake of its blinding white mane.
“I shall use my magnificent golden horn in our defense as well.” The unicorn sighed. “It all goes so quickly. Maybe when you get back we might find a quiet comer where you might”—the beast paused meaningfully for a second—“sit—and I might”—it paused again—“lay my—heavy head for a moment upon your—“ It paused one more time, almost too overcome to continue. The last word came out as a whisper: “—lap?”
“Indeed,” I answered, taken aback by the beast’s pitiful sincerity. “Perhaps someday—“
“Leaving so soon?” asked a voice as dry as decaying leaves. Death’s voice.
“Go!” Norei demanded. “We’ll come up with a way to distract the specter—somehow!”
Death laughed, and I turned to see the skeletal figure standing on the beach, beckoning.
“You do want to see your master again, don’t you, Wuntvor? You do want to save your master? Perhaps I should take you now. Perhaps I should take you all now.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” exclaimed the imperious tones of Mother Duck. “I saw them first!”
I turned my head the other way. There was Mother Duck, rapidly striding toward us across the sand.
“Indeed,” I said to the demon behind me. “I think now would be a good time to take our leave.”
“Richard,” Snarks called out to the giant, “if you would?”
“Oops,” the giant replied, picking Hubert up with both hands. “Here you go!”
Richard grunted as he tossed up in the air with all his might. Hubert shrieked, a mixture of surprise and fright:
“Dragons aren’t supposed to go this fast!”
I craned my neck to look behind. Richard and my other companions disappeared in the distance before I could blink.
“Oh, boy!” Snarks cheered. “We’re really flying now! Nobody can stop us anymore!”
I clutched the dragon’s scales for dear life. I was all too afraid that the demon was right.
What do you mean, wizards cannot foretell the future? While it may be true that some of us are not as skilled at prophesying as certain other mythological professionals who make that sort of thing their life’s work, still your average mage is quite adept at looking into times to come. An example? If you insist. I see through the power of my mystic might that you shall grow older, and so shall I. We shall have our good days, and not so good days. You want something more specific? Very well. I see something happening to you any minute now, something that you cannot avoid.
You will soon have a wizard collecting his fee.
From Wizardhood (Wizard’s Digest Condensed Edition), fourth edition, by Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
I had remarked before that things sometimes seemed to go too fast for me. This was the first time, however, that I feared they were going too fast for everyone.
“Weehah!” Snarks whooped behind me. “This is the way to travel! You know, you’d have to spend good money to go on a ride like this down in the Netherhells!”
I might have been better able to appreciate the demon’s point of view if the dragon who carried us hadn’t been screaming so much. Getting away from the twin threats of Death and Mother Duck had seemed of paramount importance but an instant before, and, the heavens knew, Richard’s muscular toss had certainly gotten us on our way. However, having one’s mode of transportation constantly subject to shrieking fits did tend to put a damper on one’s confidence. I did my best to hang on, hoping that things would calm down eventually.
And slow down we did, after what seemed to be an eternity.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Hubert exclaimed as he unfolded his wings and flapped them gently to stabilize our flight. “Wind resistance has brought us under control.”
“Do we have to slow down?” Snarks whined. “This is the most fun I’ve had since skinny-dipping in the slime pits!”
“Indeed,” I interjected, trying to put the whole thing into perspective. “I feel it was for the best that we got away from the situation down below as quickly as possible. Now, however, that we have achieved some distance from our initial danger, perhaps it is time to fly at a more reasonable, controlled speed, so that we might modify our direction to better meet our goal.”
“Awww!” Snarks complained.
“A brilliant speech!” Hubert commented. “Have you ever thought of going into politics? Or perhaps the even more difficult field of theater management?”
“His explanations are certainly long-winded enough!” the demon agreed.
“But your recent declaration brings up a small problem,” Hubert continued, choosing to ignore Snarks.
“Indeed?” I replied. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out among us.”
“That’s right!” Snarks enthused. “I’m the Plaugg worshipper around here, praise his ever so vaguely noble name.”
“Well,” the dragon went on a bit sheepishly. “You mentioned direction? You mentioned control?”
“Indeed?” I prompted.
“Well, both of them are good and noble goals,” the dragon went on. “But neither is much use if you don’t know where you’re going.” Hubert cleared his throat, producing a fair quantity of smoke. “Uh, where exactly is heaven, anyways?”
I glanced back at my small green companion.
“That is not the sort of question you should ask a demon,” Snarks answered a bit huffily.
“Weren’t you the one who was supposed to be the expert on Plaugg?” I reminded the demon.
Snarks nodded. “Praise his marginally magnificent name. I always assumed that heaven was—you know—up. But I’m not the expert here. Hubert’s the one who’s put in all the flying time.”
“Hey,” the dragon interjected. “I’m in entertainment, not tourism. If you wanted a travel itinerary, you should have consulted my brother Morty.”
“Morty?” Snarks asked.
“What’s the matter with Morty?” Hubert bristled. “It’s a perfectly good dragon name. Perhaps not as distinctive as Hubert, but then, how many names are?”
“I refuse to answer that question at this great a height,” Snarks responded.
“Indeed,” I interjected once again. “I’m afraid this line of discourse is getting us nowhere near our goal. There must be some way we can find heaven!”
“I can’t fly up forever,” Hubert agreed. “My wings will get tired.”
“So what do you want?” Snarks remarked derisively. “A crystal ball?”
“Indeed?” I remarked, with renewed enthusiasm. “I have a crystal ball! Snarks?” I pointed to the pack on my back. “If you would?”
“You call that thing a crystal ball?” the demon replied. “Well, I suppose, if I must.”
I heard the rustle of fabric as Snarks opened my pack.
“Eep eep! Eep eep eep!”
“Yowp!” Snarks exclaimed. “This thing is booby-trapped!”
I apologized to the demon. I had forgotten about my watch-ferret. I suggested that perhaps it would be better if Snarks pulled the pack from my back and handed it to me.
“Gladly,” the demon answered as he gingerly handed the pack, once again closed, over my shoulder so that I could get a firm grip on it.
“Tell me,” Snarks added. “Do you always keep small animals tucked amidst your clothing?”
“Indeed,” I replied, opening the pack for myself. “You never know when they’ll come in handy.”
“Eep!” the ferret responded. I petted the small furry creature for a moment, then retrieved the magic crystal.
“Here goes nothing,” I murmured rhetorically as I reached in my pocket for the incantation.
“You can say that again,” Snarks murmured back.
There was a lump in my pocket. I had quite forgotten, in my haste to get away, that I had had a sleeping Brownie upon my person; and did, in fact, still have a sleeping Brownie nestled in my pocket. I pulled the directions from behind the fellow’s inert form. Tap muttered something about shoes.
I held the crystal ball with my right hand, the incantation with my left. But now that I once again had the magic sphere, what should I do with it? Should I attempt to contact Plaugg? But what if a crystal of this sort could not speak with a deity, no matter how minor? I had had enough trouble with this mystic device already to discourage me from further experimentation. No, I should use this glass globe for its original purpose, to contact my master in the Kingdom of the Dead. Ebenezum would know the way to heaven. My master knew almost everything.
“Now, no talking, please,” I warned the demon. “I must concentrate so that the spell will work correctly.”
Snarks, seemingly on the verge of adding a comment or two, only nodded.
Very well. I read the incantation once more:
“Secret sphere, seashore seer, Surely showing sunshine seeking. Simply said, the shaft is shed, Spouting spells that send us shrieking.”
I gazed deep within the crystal ball. Ebenezum, I thought, let me contact Ebenezum.
There were no voices this time warning me away, nor messages that I had misspoken the spell. This time I would get through! I gazed intently at die globe, which was suddenly filled with a dense smoke. From somewhere, I heard a distant ringing, then an audible click.
After a moment’s silence, the ringing began again, fainter than the first time. Then another click, and nothing. I thought I might have heard even fainter voices through the silence, but their conversation was not loud enough for me to make out the words. At last, the ball clicked again, followed by a ringing so quiet that it was barely discernible. I realized how far the powers of this globe had to reach to contact the Kingdom of the Dead. I began to feel that the crystal’s search for my master might take forever.
There was another click, another moment of silence, and then a voice began to speak, faint but discernible. It was not my master’s voice, but that of a stranger! What could this mean? It spoke quickly, in clipped, impersonal tones, and I listened carefully, fearful of what it might tell me about Ebenezum:
“All mystic circuits are busy at the present time. Please put down your crystal and try again later.”
“Oof!” Hubert remarked. Snarks and I were jostled forcibly as the dragon’s feet connected with something solid. The crystal ball flew from my hands, and was lost almost instantly in the cloud bank that surrounded us. Apparently, we had landed somewhere.
“My ball!” I shouted after the recently disappeared device.
“No great loss,” Snarks replied.
To my surprise, I found that I agreed with the demon.
Hubert swiveled his head about to regard the two of us.
“Excuse me, fellows, but I simply had to take a breather.”
“Indeed,” I said, looking at our cloud-shrouded surroundings. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
“Of course,” Hubert replied confidently. “Up here is dragon territory. I brought us to the second highest peak in the world, and someplace that we might get some information.
“Indeed?” I answered, doing my best to discern anything in our vicinity save the never-ending grayness. “There are habitations hereabouts?”
There are more than simple habitations,” the dragon sniffed dramatically. “We are near the home of the Three Fates. They can tell us everything we need to know”—he paused for effect—“and perhaps a few things we might wish to stay ignorant of.”
“Doom,” Snarks intoned. I glanced back at the small green demon.
“Hey,” he shrugged. “Hendrek may be stuck down below, but he’s with us in spirit.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Hubert, if you will lead us to the Fates?”
“No need,” the dragon answered. “The Fates shall find us.”
And with that, as if the fates had been listening, the weather changed dramatically. The fog burned away in an instant, and we found ourselves upon a sun-drenched, windswept mountainside, a hundred yards away from an imposing building made of shining black stone.
“The Temple of the Fates,” Hubert explained.
“Who seeks the wisdom of the fates?” a woman’s voice called.
“Three humble travelers,” I shouted back, “searching for the way to heaven!”
“A worthy goal!” the woman replied. “You may approach the temple!”
“Indeed,” I whispered to the others. “Perhaps Snarks and I should dismount. I don’t know if riding into a temple like this on a dragon would be considered proper etiquette.”
Neither of my companions disagreed, so the demon and I slid from the dragon’s back and walked up the gentle mountain slope to the imposing edifice. We mounted the building’s first step.
“You may enter!” the voice cried from within. “And we will answer three questions—no more, no less—although we do apologize for being a little short-handed at the moment.”
I took the final two steps quickly, and entered the building through a great, round portal. The walls within were of the deepest black, yet somehow glistened with an eerie light. I heard Snarks at my heels, as our two sets of feet thumped across the marble-hard floors.
“Turn,” two voices spoke as one, “and face the Fates.”
I did as I was told, and saw from the corner of my eye that Hubert had stuck his head into the portal behind us. What I saw next, though, caused me to stop all movement whatsoever, save the opening of my mouth.
Two women stood on adjoining pedestals, if women they truly were. For they wore long robes, perhaps of gray, or perhaps of white or black, or perhaps of every color at once or no color at all..They were tall and lithe, with long-fingered hands and delicate feet, and long hair cascading across their shoulders, although the tresses also resisted any categorization as to color or texture.
But I could accept their hair and clothing readily enough. What really surprised me were their faces—if that was what you could call the orbs that sat atop their shoulders. Not that their heads did not have eyes, noses, ears and mouths, but that they had too many. But that did not explain it, either, for at any moment one of their faces would only hold two eyes, one nose, one mouth. It was just that one instant the eyes would be small and blue, and then change to a pair that was large and black, and then transform again to green and almond-shaped. The mouth, the nose, the cheeks, the chin, every part of the face, would likewise re-form, so that one visage would be replaced by another totally new, completely different. And it happened so quickly, one likeness, then another, and a fourth, a fifth, an eighth, a tenth; the features fled across their faces like clouds across the sun. It was as if their faces were the face of every woman in the world, perhaps every woman who had ever lived or would ever live. But after a moment I realized that even that was too simple, for the faces were too many and varied; there were men there as well, and children; everyone young and old, every shape and size and color.
These, I thought, were the Fates.
The one on the left inclined her head.
“I am Victoria.”
The one on the right bowed slightly.
“And I am Mary Jane. We are the Two Fates.”
“Normally,” Victoria added, “we are the Three Fates. Unfortunately, our sister, Hortense, is not with us at the moment. She is—“ The fate hesitated, unable to continue.
“On vacation,” her sister fate finished for her. “She complained of overwork.”
“Being a fate can be trying at times,” Victoria admitted. “Still—“
“Oh, come, now,” Mary Jane chided. “Hortense was becoming really frazzled. She needed a break—“
“The Fates watch over all eternity!” Victoria exclaimed. “How can you take a break from that?”
“It’s all a matter of attitude,” Mary Jane insisted. “I’m sure Hortense went somewhere warm and sunny and quiet. Although I do wish she’d drop us a line.”
“But we are making our petitioners wait!” Victoria reminded her sister. She waved graciously at me and my companions. “Our petty little squabbles should not affect you. At least, I hope they don’t affect you very much.”
“What else can we do?” Mary Jane asked. “We’d best get on with it.”
“Very well.” Victoria sighed. “Remember, we shall answer three questions—no more, no less! So ask, mortals, and the Fates shall reply. She looked to Mary Jane, who nodded in response. The Two Fates climbed onto adjoining platforms, leaving a third pedestal empty.
“Indeed,” I answered, for I wanted to make sure it was
I who asked the questions. I thought for an instant what I should ask first, but that answer was obvious. I had to ask the fates what the crystal ball had failed to tell me.
“How shall I find my master, the great wizard Ebenezum?”
“Here is the answer!” Victoria and Mary Jane shouted in unison.
“If ye shall seek the land of Death,” Victoria began.
“And carefully ye save your breath—“ Mary Jane continued.
This was followed by silence. The fates looked at us expectantly.
“That’s it?” Snarks demanded.
“Is that your second question?” the fates asked in unison.
“Indeed, no!” I hastily interjected. “Snarks was but remarking on the nature of your prophecy, for it seemed somehow incomplete.”
“I’m afraid so,” Victoria agreed. “Usually, there is a third line that completes the prophecy, but with Hortense gone—“
“Quite right,” Mary Jane continued. “There’s no one here to finish our prediction!”
“Indeed!” I said. “But couldn’t one of you recite the third line?”
“Indeed not!” Mary Jane chided.
“Entirely out of the question!” Victoria sniffed. “There is a precise division of labor here, and we don’t want to step on any toes. Each fate recites one third of the prophesy—no more, no less.”
“That’s how we’ve always done it,” Mary Jane agreed, “and it’s how we always will do it. After all, we fates have to live with one another throughout eternity!”
“Indeed.” I pondered this new problem. “Let me ask you this—not officially, mind you—what if I were to ask you that same question a second time? Could one of you then deliver the missing portion of the prophecy?”
“Oh, my, no,” Mary Jane murmured. “What an absurd idea.”
“I’m afraid not,” Victoria added more solemnly. “Proph- ecy is a tricky thing, you see. It’s all based on the inspiration of the moment. If we don’t get it the first time, it’s lost forever.”
“So that’s all we get?” Snarks demanded. “Two thirds of a prophecy?”
“Well,” Mary Jane huffed. “You needn’t take that attitude!”
“I should say so!” Victoria added. “What you received is certainly better than no prophecy at all!”
“It is?” Snarks replied, not at all convinced.
“Why, of course!” Victoria insisted.
“Prophecies are always stated in the form of rhyming riddles, anyway,” Mary Jane added.
“Quite correct,” Victoria added. “So this riddle is simply a bit more difficult than those we usually speak. But the problem shouldn’t be insurmountable.”
“Exactly!” Mary Jane enthused. “Especially with the rhyme scheme of the first two lines. Now, let’s see, my prediction was ‘And carefully ye save your breath—‘ “
“And mine was ‘If ye shall seek the land of Death,’ “ Victoria added.
“So discovering the third line should be simplicity itself!” Mary Jane smiled with her many mouths. “Simply think of something that rhymes with breath and death!”
But Victoria frowned. “Actually, there isn’t all that much that rhymes with breath and death.”
The fate was quite correct in that assumption. I could think of no rhymes at all.
“It could be breath or death again,” Mary Jane added uncertainly. “Rhyming’s tricky that way.”
“Indeed!” I remarked, trying hard to keep despair from my voice. “Is there no other rhyme?”
“Of course there is!” Hubert rumbled from where his head rested on the portal. “Shibboleth!”
“Shibboleth?” Snarks asked.
“A legitimate word,” Victoria responded.
“Quite possibly the answer,” Mary Jane added. “Let’s see:
“If ye shall seek the land of Death, And carefully ye save your breath, Da da da da da shibboleth!”
She nodded, quite pleased with herself. “I don’t see why not.”
“I came upon the word in my experience in the legitimate theater,” the dragon explained proudly. “You learn a great deal when you trod the boards with true thespians!”
“Indeed,” I queried, “what does the word mean?”
“Mean? Shibboleth?” The dragon puffed a pensive plume of smoke. “The theater is a hectic place. I barely have time to learn my lines. You can’t expect me to understand them as well!”
“Don’t look at me,” Snarks added. “We didn’t have any shibboleths at all in the Netherhells—unless there were some hiding in the slime pits.”
I turned to the Fates.
“Do you perchance know the meaning of the word?”
“Is that your second question?” the Two Fates replied as one.
“No, no, certainly not!” I insisted. “The second question is something entirely different.” I studied the two women for a moment. “Before I ask that second question, however, I do have the slightest procedural inquiry. I gather, from our earlier discussion, that that sort of question is allowed?”
The fates glanced at each other, their flickering faces twin masks of thought.
Victoria turned to look at me first. “Well, in this case, I suppose so.”
Mary Jane nodded. “With Hortense gone, we do have to bend the rules a little.”
“Very well,” I replied, pointing at the pedestals on which they stood. “It appears that what part of the prophecy you speak is dependent on your positions on those platforms?”
“Very astute,” Victoria remarked. “We always foretell left to right.”
“Indeed,” I answered. “Therefore, since the two of you are standing on the left-hand and central pillars, you will be able to tell me the first two thirds of my prophecy!”
“You’re very good at this!” Mary Jane said brightly. “You know, with a mind like that, you could apply yourself and guess that riddle!”
“Indeed,” I said. “Perhaps in a few minutes. First, I need to ask a boon.”
“A boon?” Victoria frowned.
“We usually don’t do those,” Mary Jane explained. “We tend to specialize in questions.”
“I realize that,” I replied, maintaining my patience as I had seen my master maintain his a hundred times before. “But this is a small boon, and would cause you little trouble. I simply ask, if you please, if Mary Jane would move from the central pedestal to that on the right? Then, when I ask a question, I should be able to get both the beginning and the end of your prophecy.”
The fates looked at each other again.
“I suppose so—“
“Do you think Hortense would—“
“Why would she care? She’s off sunning herself someplace!”
“Very well, mortal,” the two of them answered in unison. “ ‘Tis the least we can do.”
Mary Jane stepped over to the right-hand pillar. Victoria waited a moment while her sister smoothed her robes. Then both turned to face me and my companions. Mary Jane spoke next:
“Now we shall answer two questions—no more, no less. Ask mortals, and the fates shall reply!”
“Indeed,” I said again. But what should I ask? Perhaps, if I phrased the substance of my first question differently, their reply would give me different clues, allowing me to solve the riddles of both their prophecies. It was certainly worth a try.
“Where shall I find my master, the great wizard Ebenezum?”
“Here is the answer!” the Two Fates shouted together.
“Ye shall ever higher go—“ Victoria began.
There was a moment of silence.
“And then directions they will show!” Mary Jane concluded triumphantly.
The Fates glanced at each other.
“Doesn’t work much better, does it?” Victoria admitted.
Mary Jane nodded. “That bit missing in the middle does seem important.”
“Still,” Victoria volunteered, “go and show have a lot better rhymes than shibboleth. Blow, flow, snow—“
“Flambeau, undertow, outgrow—“ Mary Jane added helpfully.
“Mistletoe, overthrow—“ Victoria mentioned. “Why, the possibilities are virtually endless!” But her enthusiasm deflated almost immediately. “Oh, dear, that could be even more of a problem, couldn’t it?”
“Indeed—“ I began.
“No, no!” Victoria interrupted. “There’s no need for you to even mention it! These prophecies of ours do tend to build. I’ll move over to the central pillar of my own accord. That way, next time you ask a question, you’ll get the most important part of our foretelling!”
The fate stepped over to the next pedestal. “It’s too bad about Hortense. I don’t suppose any of you have any prediction experience? No, you don’t look like the type.”
“It is a shame,” Mary Jane added. “If only we had something or someone to fill in on the third platform. Even a crystal ball would do!”
I felt a sudden urge to clear my throat.
“Indeed,” Snarks remarked.
The fates looked at me with concern. “You’d better watch out there,” Victoria cautioned. “It’s very easy to catch cold in the mountain air.”
I assured the Fates that I was as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Perhaps, I suggested, it was time to get on with the prophecies.
“Very well,” Victoria replied. “Now we shall answer one question—no more, no less. Ask mortal, and let the Fates reply!”
“Indeed,” I said for what—I must admit—I was glad was the final time. I had gotten nowhere asking about my master. Perhaps, then, I should ask about my other pressing concern, and hope there was something—anything—in the answer that I might find useful. I spoke again:
“How might I defeat Death, and keep him from taking me prisoner?”
“Here is the answer!” the Two Fates cried with finality.
There was a moment of silence.
“You will do just as you please,” Victoria announced.
“And manage all of Death’s decrees!” Mary Jane concluded.
“That was even worse than the other ones!” Snarks exclaimed.
“Oh, come on, now,” Hubert chided the demon. “Give them credit. It’s always hard when you break up an act. And yet they go on with the show! What troopers!”
“No,” Mary Jane interjected. “The small obnoxious fellow was right. If anything, that prophecy was even more incomplete than the first two.”
Victoria looked uncomfortably at her sister fate. “Well, maybe we can come up with something. It is their last prophecy, after all. What rhymes with please and decrees?”
“Almost everything,” Mary Jane replied miserably.
“Well,” Victoria admitted, “we’ve never done this before, but maybe, if we really, really try, we can eke out some glimmer of that first third of the riddle.”
“It’s worth a try,” Mary Jane agreed. “They did come a long way, after all, with no idea that Hortense would be off somewhere gallivanting about when they arrived. Let’s see, what do we have so far?”
“—you will do just as you please, and manage all of Death’s decrees!” Victoria replied.
“Exactly!” Mary Jane paused to ponder. “I’ve heard that sort of prophecy before. It’s one of those where the first line usually begins with ‘if.’ “
“Almost always!” Victoria cheered. “Actually, those prophecies usually begin with a phrase: ‘If you should—‘ “
“That’s right!” Mary Jane smiled out at me. “See, we’re halfway there already. If you should—uh—da da da da da. Well, it’s certainly worth a try.”
“I should say so!” Victoria replied. “Both of us will close our eyes and say whatever comes into our heads.”
“With luck,” Mary Jane added, “one of them will be the prophecy.” She turned to her fellow fate. “Are you ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
The two fates closed their eyes and swayed back and forth upon their pedestals.
Victoria spoke first:
“If you should shout cacophonies?”
Mary Jane answered a moment later:
“If you should tap him on the knees?”
Victoria moaned and spoke again:
“If you should do a full striptease?”
“If you should eat some cottage cheese?” Mary Jane added immediately.
Both fates opened their eyes and made more or less the same horrible sequence of faces.
“That was pretty terrible,” Victoria allowed.
Mary Jane agreed. “When the muse leaves me, I’m worthless.”
I thanked them both, and said that it was time we took our leave. My master was in dire distress in the land of Death, and for all I knew that danger might be growing with every passing minute. We would have to try and contact Plaugg, and rely on his ever so slightly godlike powers to come to our aid.
“Bless his minimal resplendence,” Snarks added reverentially.
In the meantime, I added, I would consider their prophecies, and surely find some helpful clues therein.
It was only then that I remembered.
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed. In my concern for my master, I had completely forgotten to ask them the directions to heaven. I sheepishly explained my omission.
“Oh, dear,” Mary Jane replied.
“Quite a shame,” Victoria added.
“Do you think it would have done you any good, anyway?” Snarks demanded. “Do you understand anything these two have told you?”
“If only we could—“ Mary Jane began.
“Now, now,” Victoria reprimanded. “You know the rules. Three questions—“
“—no more, no less,” Mary Jane agreed miserably.
“And they’ve all been used up,” Victoria concluded. “However, that’s in our official role. Perhaps we might be able to advise them unofficially?”
I looked hopefully at the two immortals. Could they actually help us, after all, even after my bumbling mistake?
“Oh, do you think we might?” Mary Jane asked, a bit of cheer returned to her voice.
“Oh, why not?” Victoria replied. “It’s the least we can do with Hortense gone. Listen, mortals, to what the Fates suggest.” She pointed above her. “Heaven, to the best of our knowledge, is somewhere up there.”
“Up,” Mary Jane agreed. “Definitely up.”
“Exactly where up there I’m afraid we’re a little vague on,” Victoria added.
“They never invite us to any of their parties,” Mary Jane explained.
“Yes,” Victoria sighed. “Something like that would certainly brighten up a Saturday night!”
“Well, never mind about our social lives—if you could call them that,” Mary Jane hastily amended. “Rather, shall we say—“ She glanced at her sister.
The Two Fates smiled as one. “We hope we’ve helped you with your quest.”
I thanked the immortal sisters and we took our leave, passing back through the portal and back to the mountainside, the Fates’ final words carried to us through the thin, high air:
“I do wish Hortense would send us a card!”
“Well, that was certainly educational,” Snarks remarked when we had gotten some distance from the temple. “I now know where not to come when I’m looking for answers.”
“ Twas nobody’s fault,” I amended. “ Tis but one more difficulty on our road.”
“Our road is nothing but difficulties!” Snarks complained.
“Indeed,” Hubert the dragon rumbled. “And because this journey failed, I now have another difficulty which I cannot avoid.”
“What do you mean?” I asked the morose-looking reptile.
Hubert sighed mightily, his nostrils emitting a prodigious amount of steam. “I must go somewhere where I swore I would never go again. But it is a place where we will surely get the answers to your questions. I must do it, for since I have met you and the wizard, that meeting has opened up my life. I owe the wizard this journey out of gratitude. Let us hope I survive the experience. If you would climb on my back?”
Snarks and I did as Hubert bade.
“Hang on!” the dragon announced. And we were airborne once again.
When pleading for your life with demons, dragons, or the various monsters one encounters within the sorcerous arts, it is generally not wise to place too much of the argument for the continuation of one’s existence on the needs of one’s family and other relations, for, let us face it, demons, dragons and various monsters also have families and other relations, and, thinking of their own maiden aunts and mothers-in-law, may eat you as an act of mercy.
From The Teachings of Ebenezum, Volume XLI.
“Indeed,” I asked the dragon once we were safely aloft, “would it be too much trouble to tell us where you are taking us?”
“No, I suppose not,” Hubert replied miserably. “I just want to get this over with.” His scales shook beneath us. Had the giant reptile shivered?
“We’d like to get this over with, too!” Snarks exclaimed. “So tell us, already!”
“Very well,” Hubert answered, gloom still pervading his tones. “We have to go to the home of the dragons.”
“Indeed?” I said, somewhat surprised.
“That’s it?” Snarks stated rather more baldly. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Plenty, I assure you,” the dragon continued morosely. “But it’s worse than that.” Hubert sighed. “We have to go see Morty.”
“Morty?” Snarks asked.
“Is there a problem with Morty?” I suggested.
“Is there a problem?” Hubert shot forth a plume of fire. “How can I make you, who are not dragons, and not subject to the dictates of strict dragon society—how can I possibly make you understand?”
“Indeed,” I gently prompted. “I imagine we have already been together far longer, and gotten to know each other far better, than any human, demon and dragon ever have before! Why not tell us your problem, and we will attempt to comprehend?”
“Yes, why not?” the dragon agreed not too enthusiastically. “It will at least help pass the time until we get”—he shivered again—“there.”
Hubert paused, billows of smoke cascading from his nostrils. I held my breath as the fumes passed me by, fearful that if I coughed I might break the reptile’s concentration.
“Where can I begin?” Hubert began.
“This is going to be long-winded, isn’t it?” Snarks whispered fatalistically.
“I guess you could say I’ve always been a different sort of dragon,” Hubert continued, already swept up in the drama of his narrative. “Not that I wasn’t given plenty of chances to fit in. I could have gone into one of the acceptable dragon occupations: world conquest, gold hoarding, damsel-napping, distant and ethereal flight patterns. But no, I had to strike out on my own. The theater had found its way into my ice-cold reptile blood!
“You see, it all started in my apprenticeship days. One of the older dragons—my Uncle Spike, actually—had taken me down to the world of men for some of my elementary lessons—uh, Panic and Mayhem 101, I believe. So here I was, supposed to stomp and snort and scare the population into fleeing willy-nilly—that was the general purpose of the lesson, you see. But my uncle had made the mistake of setting us down in the middle of this large community on market day.
“Uncle Spike then went off to scare a few humans in my direction; you know, to get the ball rolling, as it were. But he had unwittingly left me in a spot that would change my very life!” The dragon emitted a long, nostalgic sigh. “For, not fifty yards distant from where I landed, stood a Punch and Judy show!”
“A Punch and Judy show?” Snarks commented. “Sounds pretty impressive to me!”
“Yes,” Hubert replied happily, too far lost in memory to note the demon’s sarcasm. “Punch and Judy and all the rest. How I loved those little puppets!”
“This isn’t only going to be long-winded,” Snarks despaired. “This is going to be maudlin!”
Hubert laughed a sad little laugh. “Oh, I was lost within a minute of setting my eyes on that tiny stage. You see, there was not only a Punch puppet, and a Judy puppet, and a policeman puppet—there was a dragon puppet, too!”
“Oh, that explains everything!” Snarks remarked.
I thought of cautioning the demon to silence, but Hubert was oblivious to all but the story of his life.
“Yes,” the dragon continued. “There it was, before me, all of life on that tiny stage. Punch hit Judy, Judy hit Punch, the policeman hit both of them, they hit the policeman back. Then the dragon came in, and things got really interesting!”
Hubert stopped talking suddenly. I looked past his head and saw we were approaching another distant mountain.
“Oh, dear,” the dragon moaned.
This, I guessed, was Hubert’s ancestral home.
We flew on through the clouds, and I got a better look at our destination. It was not your typical mountain. Oh, it was high enough, and it had crags and rocky outcroppings to spare. But it was totally lacking a peak. What should be the final quarter or so of the mountain (if it had followed the rules generally used for this sort of thing) was missing, replaced instead by a broad plateau; a space, I realized as we approached, of some size.
“The home of the dragons,” Hubert noted morosely, his enthusiasm fled. We neared our destination with excruciating slowness. Had Hubert deliberately reduced his speed?
“Indeed,” I said. Obviously, the dragon did not look forward to this homecoming. I had a feeling he might be overdramatizing his problems. But then, I have never visited the home of the dragons. Perhaps, I thought, it was best to get Hubert’s mind off of what was to come. And I could think of but one way to do this.
“Hubert,” I reminded him gently, “you never finished telling us your story.”
“What?” the dragon asked, his moping temporarily disturbed. “Oh, you mean about that town and Uncle Spike and Punch and Judy. All that?”
“That’s all right,” Snarks reassured him. “You don’t have to tell us.”
“No, no,” Hubert insisted. “What’s the use of starting a story if you’re not willing to get to the point? It’s not fair to your audience!”
“Indeed,” I interjected before the demon could comment further. “So why don’t you finish?”
Hubert nodded grimly. “The show must go on, even if I do have to see Morty. Now, where was I? Oh, that’s right. Punch and Judy, and then the dragon puppet. Well, let me tell you, I was lost! Uncle Spike kept sending harried villagers my way, and I didn’t fry a single one of them! I didn’t even know they were there! I didn’t pay any attention to the audience of the puppet show, either, though I vaguely remember some children screaming and fleeing in panic. I was totally absorbed in the action on the tiny stage—Punch hit the dragon, Judy hit the dragon, the dragon hit Judy, the dragon hit Punch. And then the policeman showed up!”
“You did have to encourage him, didn’t you?” Snarks muttered.
“I don’t need to tell you, I was excited. Here was the Punch and Judy show, with all the audience and miscella- neous other citizenry fled. It was a show performed only for me! And I began to think, if an audience applauded a dragon puppet, then consider what their reaction to the real thing would be!”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “ Tis a thought to ponder.”
“Rather than talk about,” Snarks added, “especially at great length.”
“Well,” I stated, “it certainly was an inspirational story.”
“Unfortunately,” Hubert admitted, “it was more flammable than inspirational. As I became more involved in the puppet show, I waddled closer and closer to that tiny stage. Then the puppet dragon got the upper hand!” Hubert coughed delicately. “At that tender age, you don’t have quite the control over your flame that you might. In my enthusiasm, I’m afraid I burned the booth to the ground. The puppeteer got away unharmed, but I fear I singed Punch and Judy beyond recognition. Which was fortunate, because, when Uncle Spike arrived, I could at least show him a little mayhem.”
“Did he buy it?” Snarks asked, interested despite himself.
“I got a passing grade,” Hubert acknowledged. “But my exams no longer mattered. From that moment onward I had but one goal—the theater!”
The dragon sighed. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. In a few minutes, we will be—there again!”
“But can it be that bad?” I asked.
“That bad,” Hubert agreed miserably. “And worse! Dragons will never appreciate show business!”
“At last, someone I can relate to,” Snarks stated with new enthusiasm. “Sounds like dragons are my kind of creature!”
“They are if you like burning and conquering and devouring and hoarding,” Hubert said glumly. “Dragons are very good at that!” He blew a despairing puff of smoke. “Hubert—they’d ask me—Hubert, don’t you like to rend and tear and destroy? Don’t you like amassing gold? You want to do what? Act? But aren’t burning and destroying and hoarding all acts? Oh, they would never understand. And Morty!”
“Morty?” Snarks asked.
“Yes, Morty was always the worst—my older brother, excelling at all those things for which I had no aptitude—basic mayhem, applied burning, advanced treasure collection—he passed them all with honors!”
“Morty?” Snarks said again.
“And now I have to go back and face all that one more time!” Hubert concluded.
“Indeed,” I said reassuringly. “Perhaps it will not be as bad as you imagine.”
But Hubert laughed bitterly. “Oh, no. It will be as bad as that and worse. Believe me, you do not know the depths that dragons will sink to! But I will be strong, for your master! I will persevere, for your master. I will even see Morty, for your master. And we will find the way to heaven, after all!”
“Morty?” Snarks interjected again.
“We are almost there,” Hubert remarked. “I’m going to angle in for a landing. Hang on! And once we get there, let me do the talking.”
“Must we?” Snarks asked, his words almost lost to the increasing wind. But then he and I both were forced to lean down against the reptile and clutch his scales.
Hubert landed smoothly in a clearing on the edge of the plateau. A single, dark gray dragon, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding rock, watched our descent.
Hubert came to a full stop and looked at the other reptile. “I think I know that dragon.”
“I can’t hear you!” the other dragon called. “I have carrots in my ears!”
“I beg your pardon?” Hubert replied.
“It is you, isn’t it?” the other dragon cheered. “You wouldn’t know about this, would you? You’ve been away. Well, I can tell you, nephew, it’s all your fault!”
“Oh, dear,” Hubert whispered. “It’s my Uncle Spike.”
“Nice to see you again!” Uncle Spike continued as he trotted towards us. “We’ve heard how well you’ve been doing down below. You can’t imagine the furor that’s caused!” The dragon chuckled, sending sparks flying out from between his teeth. “And what’s that on your back? A gift or two for your Uncle Spike? Perhaps a few munchies?”
“Certainly not!” Hubert said hastily. “These are my companions on a very important quest. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to bring gifts, uncle. This is not a pleasure visit, but rather a necessary stop on a mission that could change the course of destiny!”
, “Ah, nephew, it’s easy to see how you can wow them | down on the surface world. What a sense of style!”
“Thank you, I’m sure,” Hubert replied softly, taken aback by the compliment. “I never expected to hear something like that in the land of the dragons.”
“A lot has changed around here,” Spike agreed. “And it’s all because of you!”
“Maybe,” Snarks piped up hopefully, “they’ve outlawed musical comedy.”
“Oho!” Uncle Spike cried, looking at the demon for the first time. “Who is this tidbit?”
“Are you demeaning my size?” Snarks demanded. “I am a full-grown demon!”
“Oh, dear, no,” Spike replied with a shake of his massive head. “On the contrary, I am complimenting your taste.”
“Really?” Snarks responded, surprised. He self-consciously fingered his heavy woolen attire. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. These are just some old robes from my religious order.”
“Oh, no, no,” Spike chided. “You misunderstand. Not taste as in selection of wardrobe. More like taste as in the opportunity to become a light snack. And may I say, you certainly look yummy!”
“I’m sorry,” Snarks replied. “I was supposed to let Hubert do the talking.”
“Yes, uncle,” Hubert interjected. “These two on my back are under my protection. They are crucial to the completion of my task. I would appreciate it, therefore, if you would stop considering them as light meals.”
“Oho!” Spike guffawed. “That’s a good one! U.ider °-actor’s protection?” Flame shot twenty feet in the air as he roared with laughter. “Wait until I tell the others about that one! I tell you, Hubert, you can certainly see that you’re a professional!”’
“I suppose so, uncle,” Hubert replied doubtfully. “But, enjoyable as it is to talk to you, I’m afraid we have a mission to complete. I therefore must see my brother Morty as quickly as possible.”
“Morty?” Spike responded, still amused. “His horde is just over here in the next crag. You haven’t been here in a while, have you? Well, I’ll be glad to show you the way.” He looked speculatively at Snarks and myself. “A reptile can certainly get hungry this time of day, it being between meals and all. I could really stand a little pick-me-up. Do you really need two—“
“Yes, Uncle Spike,” Hubert replied firmly.
“Simply asking! No need to get upset.” Spike’s tongue darted from his mouth to taste the air in our vicinity. “And let me know if you change your mind.”
“Morty, Uncle Spike?”
“Surely,” the large reptile nodded as he turned to lead the way. “I’m simply putting in my request now, before all the other dragons see your tasty—um—companions. Remember, my boy, you should always spare a kindly thought for your elders.”
Spike walked toward the interior of the plateau, and Hubert followed.
“Indeed,” I whispered to the latter dragon as we strode across the barren rock. “Is this what you were so worried about?”
“Yes and no,” Hubert whispered back. “Uncle Spike has been more pleasant than I ever thought he could be. But there is something strange going on here.”
“You mean his constant desire to eat us?” I suggested.
“No, no,” Hubert disagreed. “That’s perfectly natural for a dragon. I meant some of the comments he’s been making. ‘I can’t hear you—I have carrots in my ears?’ There seem to have been some fundamental changes in dragon society.”
“But couldn’t that be for the good?” I reasoned.
“Nothing in dragon society is ever for the good,” Hubert replied morosely. “I am more worried now than I was before we came here.”
“Great,” Snarks replied. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you. Or at least as nice as it can be knowing a human and a dragon.”
If I had been surprised by the fatalism of Snarks’s remark, I was even more surprised when Hubert nodded his agreement.
“It will get worse. We still have to see Morty.”