by Hugh Cook
Then Bao Gahai looked long and hard upon the Witchlord Onosh, and, to Sken-Pitilkin's amazement, the Witchlord bowed to Bao Gahai's judgment.
So it was that, in the face of the threat from Khmar, father and son made a peace, with the father agreeing to serve as a loyal subordinate to the son, and the pair of them withdraw to Locontareth with all their forces, arriving there late in the autumn.
Witchlord and Weaponmaster arrived in Locontareth just in time to save the dralkosh Zelafona and her dwarf-son Glambrax from being lynched by an irate public, for that pair had become notorious as commercial pirates. By their diligent commercialism, the two of them had first cornered the market in brewed acorns and roast rats; and by speculative enterprise they had then cornered the market in barley; and by virtue of owning the spoils of the autumn harvest they had made themselves masters of all the city's bakeries; and then had doubled the price of bread, then doubled it again.
Overcome by the success of their own folly, this pair of monopoly capitalists had then doubled the price of bread for one last and fatal time, and had been about to meet their mutual doom at the hands of a wrathful consuming public when rescued by Witchlord and Weaponmaster.
Having rescued this unrescueworthy pair, and having seized all barley in the city, and having given the wizards Zozimus and Sken-Pitilkin the responsibility for marketing both bread and barley at a fixed and reasonable price, and having thus won the love and affection of the people of Locontareth – or, more accurately, the subdued and potentially mutinous compliance of those people – the Witchlord and then Weaponmaster then settled themselves in that southern city, intending to gather their strength, and in the spring to attack Khmar and to reclaim the rule of the city of Gendormargensis and the Collosnon Empire as a whole.
But, of course, it was not going to be that easy.
Chapter Eighteen
Khmar: a warrior of Yarglat birth and breeding who took advantage of war between Witchlord and Weaponmaster to invade the Collosnon Empire from the north. Adroit in his timing, Khmar met no opposition from the capital's garrison, since most Yarglat feared and hated Bao Gahai, the dralkosh whom Lord Onosh had left in charge of the city. In the Witchlord's absence, few Yarglat hesitated before giving their loyalty to Khmar. So Khmar's conquest was virtually bloodless, whereas his enemies were already weary with war, their strength exhausted in the sanguinary encounters of the south.
As Witchlord and Weaponmaster settled in to Locontareth, they gave additional directions to the wizard Sken-Pitilkin, he whom they had earlier charged with a half-share of the responsibility for organizing the market in bread and barley. Sken-Pitilkin was now to exert himself over the winter and build them an airship.
"For," said Guest Gulkan, "when you tutored me in geography, you told me of volcanoes, those mountains which spit forth fire, and which let fall upon the heads of men those massive teardrops of rock which are known as bombs. It occurs to me that, had we an airship, we could let fall similar bombs upon the heads of our enemies."
"Yes," said Lord Onosh. "Had we such a ship, we could defeat Khmar easily, by the sheer terror of the device if by no other means."
"The terror, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin solemnly, "is suffered most greatly by those poor mortals doomed to fly in such a ship. Having almost killed myself once, I am in no mood to repeat such an experiment." Guest Gulkan was secretly of like opinion, but nevertheless favored the project, thinking he could easily avoid all personal involvement with experimental airships. Allied in their desire to rule the skies, Witchlord and Weaponmaster easily overruled Sken-Pitilkin's objections.
"I will give you any ship you want," said Lord Onosh, "and you will make it fly. You can have a barge, if you want, a barge taken fresh from the Yolantarath. Or – well, we have men from Stranagor in our forces, ships, fishing smacks, they build them all in Stranagor, and we can build likewise here. A ship which is apt for the fraughts of the Hauma Sea will surely be suitable for the skies."
"Give me no ship," said Sken-Pitilkin. "Give me, rather, the roof of the ruling hall of Locontareth, and I will make a ship out of that."
Thus spoke Sken-Pitilkin, hoping Lord Onosh would not want to sacrifice the roof of the ruling hall of Locontareth – that roof being a magnificent woodspan spread on which a thousand men could have been seated. By such stratagem, Sken-Pitilkin hoped to be spared from experiment.
"Do it," said the Witchlord, thus proving himself no connoisseur of woodwork. "Only make sure that it has the firm capacity to carry all my treasure chests."
"Your treasure chests, my lord?" said Sken-Pitilkin blankly.
"Yes, my treasure chests!"Sken-Pitilkin was at first at a loss to know what treasure chests Lord Onosh was speaking of. So the Witchlord explained at laborious length, for he was proud of his treasure chests, which in his earlier days had more than once won him a crucial battles.
"For you see," said Lord Onosh, "when one army can pay its soldiers and the other cannot, gold will tip the scales when all else is equal."
And in satisfaction of Sken-Pitilkin's curiosity, the Witchlord mapped out the movements of his treasure chests. Laden with gold, with silver, with massy bronze and trinkets of tin, the imperial strongboxes had marched from Gendormargensis with the imperial army – though, needless to say, they had not marched with any legs of their own, but had borrowed the legs of ponies for the purpose.
Traveling always under the personal vigilance of the emperor, those chests had traveled to Babaroth. In that town, the chests had waited in loyal expectation of an imperial victory; and, Lord Onosh having been proved triumphant in his battle over Guest Gulkan, the strongboxes had joined the methodical pursuit which had brought them as far as Locontareth.
The Witchlord had shortly discovered that Guest Gulkan had slipped round behind him. So, leaving the strongboxes in the city under guard – for their weight was incompatible with the drama of a quick pursuit – Lord Onosh had sallied forth treasureless to smash Guest Gulkan. Thus the treasure had not been in the Witchlord's possession when his own army had ultimately been smashed at the high pass of Volvo Marp; and had still been safely under guard in Locontareth when the Witchlord had returned to that city in alliance with the Weaponmaster.
Thus the story of the treasure chests; and if you think it a long story, and a weary one, and one quite unnecessary for the performance of this history, why, then blame not the poor historian. Blame rather a nitpicking tradition of jealous and intellectually impoverished scholarship which lacks the ability to appreciate the grandeur of a full-scale historical tapestry, and therefore devotes itself to picking loose any undefended thread at the corner of such a tapestry.
Having thus defended this particular thread, let us return to the sagacious Sken-Pitilkin.
We find him hot in dialog.
"But, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin, who was reluctant to guarantee any airship fit to carry a great weight of lead, gold, silver, bronze and trinketing tin, "why should you want a weapon of terror to be able to carry your treasure chests?"
"Because," said Lord Onosh, "this weapon of terror is best to be a generalized weapon of war. So. Anything a horse can do, an airship must do likewise. That includes carrying treasure.
Besides, what if Khmar attacked us unexpectedly. What if we had to flee in haste? What then of our treasure?"
"My lord jests," said Sken-Pitilkin, who had sufficient strategic wisdom to know that unexpected attack was out of the question, given the lateness of the season.
"I do not seriously expect attack," said Lord Onosh, in frank confession. "Nevertheless, I am of the Yarglat, hence may know more of the capacity of the breed than do you. Rule out nothing!
Rather, prepare for all eventualities. Therefore – make ready!"
As has now been reasoned out at length, Lord Onosh had his treasure chests with him in Locontareth, and insisted that Sken-Pitilkin's flying roof be engineered so as to accommodate those chests. And so, with Lord Onosh having agreed to sacrifice the roof of the ruli
ng hall of Locontareth to experimental science, the sagacious Sken-Pitilkin found himself on top of that roof the very next day, surveying it in the company of carpenters.
"How," said Sken-Pitilkin, "did I get myself into a mess like this?"
And, not for the first time, the sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon wished that he had abandoned the practice of wizardry to become a slug-chef like Zozimus.
On inspection, the carpenters concluded that the roof could easily be disconnected from the walls beneath it, so that Sken-Pitilkin, at some time of his own choosing, could launch that roof in the skies.
Thus Sken-Pitilkin set work upon his airship; Pelagius Zozimus began a systematic exploration of the culinary possibilities of barley admixed with fish guts; the dwarf Glambrax and the dralkosh Zelafona began the great work of sweeping the streets of Locontareth as public penance for their earlier commercial predations; and Witchlord and Weaponmaster sat in counsel with the Rovac warriors Thodric Jarl and Rolf Thelemite, making preparations for the long winter ahead and the campaigns of the following spring.
But -
The Yarglat barbarian Khmar, the warlord who had swept down from the north to sweep up Gendormargensis, why, Khmar wasted no time on dalliance. As Lord Onosh had already half-suspected, outright war was not long to be avoided. Khmar was a master of mobility, and was in no mood to let his enemies enjoy the luxury of a comfortable winter. So, while Witchlord and Weaponmaster selected out their swansdown duvets, and chose the rosepetal pillows on which they planned to rest the buttocks of their concubines, Khmar launched himself upon a great assault.
Despite the lateness of the season, Khmar advanced downriver from Gendormargensis toward Locontareth, advertising his onslaught by sending heads floating down the river. Each of these heads was nailed to a small raft, and was mutilated in a manner suggestive of the fate which the conqueror Khmar intended to mete out to both Witchlord and Weaponmaster.
Now the Witchlord Onosh and his son Guest Gulkan were in a predicament, for Khmar had won the loyalty of Gendormargensis;
Stranagor's loyalty was uncertain; and, though Locontareth was temporarily loyal, it was weak in the aftermath of the expensive campaigning which had accompanied the tax revolt.
Still, Lord Onosh and Guest Gulkan scraped up what troops they could, and began to organize their defense. Meanwhile, they sent patrols far up the river on both the northern bank and the southern. Thus they had good warning of Khmar's advance, for there was no way for that Yarglat to outflank a screen spread out so broadly and organized with such immaculate professionalism.
The news of Khmar's advance was all bad, at least as far as Witchlord and Weaponmaster were concerned. Khmar's army was large; its morale was good; and it gave a good account of itself in skirmishing with the patrols.
"There is only one thing for it," said Lord Onosh. "We must retreat."
"Very well," said Guest promptly. "Then let us pull back to Ibsen-Iktus."Guest was beginning to have a certain degree of affection for those mountains, the scene of his notable victory over his father. Guest hoped to lure Khmar into those frozen rock-realms, and there to inflict upon the invader a crushing defeat – a literally crushing rockslide defeat. But he was swiftly disabused of this notion.
"The mountains will be too cold this late in the year," said his father. "The snow will be deep on the heights already, and those heights impassable by the time he could reach them."
Whereupon Thodric Jarl came up with a somewhat extravagant scheme of manoeuver. Jarl suggested that they retreat south toward Favanosin, and establish winter quarters for themselves; and then, in the spring, march east to the shores of the Swelaway Sea while Khmar sought them in the south; and then head down the Pig and take Gendormargensis before Khmar knew that they had slipped his clutches.
"The distances are so great and the communications so slow," said Jarl, "that we can be months fortifying Gendormargensis and recruiting men before Khmar even knows what we are about."
Furthermore, went on Jarl, once in Gendormargensis they might be able to send into the northern homelands of the Yarglat to rouse those wild Yarglat tribes which were the enemies of Khmar.
"Thus," said Jarl, "when Khmar finally arrives at Gendormargensis to challenge us, he will have been weakened by months of fruitless wandering, while we have a city and the strength to hold it."
There were a thousand flaws in this plan. Here is one such flaw: Khmar might have left a substantial army to hold Gendormargensis. Here is another: the logistic requirements of the march which Jarl proposed were close to impossible.
But nobody had a better plan.
"It gives us at least the chance of victory," said the Witchlord Onosh bravely, drawing on a lifetime's experience to give his best possible imitation of confidence, "which is better than running away."
So the Witchlord Onosh and his son Guest began planning for the withdrawal to the south, Guest's role in this planning mission being chiefly to say "yes" and "why not" and "I think that's an excellent idea". For, as the crisis deepened, Lord Onosh had by insensible degrees obtained an almost unconscious ascendancy over his son. This was only natural, for in his early manhood the young Guest Gulkan as yet lacked the experience to grapple with the full complexities of such a crisis, and his wizardly advisers were busy with the control of bread and barley, with the cooking of fish guts and the building of experimental airships.
As this planning got underway, Sken-Pitilkin asked permission to be relieved of his airship labors. But he was told, rather, to hurry himself and get the roof of the great hall air-mobile.
"For," said Lord Onosh, "if you can complete and perfect this terror-weapon, then we may yet defeat Khmar here at Locontareth."Sken-Pitilkin was dubious, but he went to work regardless, and saw to the installation of a great many chairs on the top of the roof, and saw to it that the roof was detached from the walls in accordance with the carpenters' earlier advice, and so was ready to fly.
"How goes the work?" said Lord Onosh, two days before the army was scheduled to retreat south toward Favanosin.
"My lord," said Sken-Pitilkin mournfully, "much as I have been looking forward to this great experiment, I regret that the construction of this airship requires another season at a minimum."
This was a lie, for the thing was more or less ready to fly.
But, though the airship was ready to fly, Sken-Pitilkin was not: in fact, every time he thought about it he broke out in a cold sweat. In proof of his native sagacity, the wizard Sken-Pitilkin had found himself an amenable donkey, and had loaded the brute with bags of barley, with a stash of opium and the answering opium pipes, with bundles of parchments and boxes of books, with a tent, with warm blankets, with foot-warmers, with sleeping bags, with spare pillows, with cushions, with a collapsible armchair, and with other gear of war, and so was ready to foot it toward Favanosin with the army. Though such a march would be harsh, and cold, and direly uncomfortable, Sken-Pitilkin would far rather risk the harsh yet certain dangers of such a withdrawal than chance the lunatic uncertainties of experimental flight.
"Another season!" said the Witchlord, scandalized.
"It is so, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin mournfully.
"Then," said the Witchlord Onosh with a heavy heart, "we will have to abandon the experiment and retreat on foot."
And he went to supervise the final preparations for his army's plan to do just that.
But before Witchlord and Weaponmaster could move south with their army, Khmar attacked. Like a billion rabid rats assaulting a sack of sugar, like sharks in their blood-madness assailing a wounded whale, like a great gang of lawyers falling upon a law case, so in the rage of their onslaught did Khmar's brutal barbarians attack the city of Locontareth. Khmar's soldiers came over the city walls by night, using siege ladders and grappling hooks, and before the sentries were properly aware the entire city was filled with shadows which struck with steel and killed.
Before long, the city was burning, most of the fires being set by de
fenders who sought to stir confusion through arson, hoping to make their escape in that confusion.
But in the ruling hall of Locontareth there was no confusion, only a terrible haste, for under the direction of the wizard Sken Pitilkin the final preparations for flying the roof were being made. Carpenters were checking that the roof was entirely severed from the walls of the hall; mighty warriors were risking the bursting of blood vessels as they winched the Witchlord's treasure chests to the heights; and other warriors were likewise trying to winch upwards Sken-Pitilkin's donkey.
To this scene came the Witchlord himself, in company with Pelagius Zozimus. In honor of the crisis, the slug-chef Zozimus had dressed himself in his famous fish-scale armor, perhaps hoping that he should at least make a well-dressed corpse. The armor reflected the fiery blaze of arson-struck buildings, blood- red and glowering. Padding along behind Zozimus came the dwarf Glambrax, with the sister-witches Zelafona and Bao Gahai bringing up the rear.
When the Witchlord saw Sken-Pitilkin's mightily laden donkey swinging upwards from a winchrope, he stopped short, as if hammered to a halt by thunder.
"What," said Lord Onosh, "is that?"
"It is a donkey, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin.
"I know that!" said the Witchlord wrathfully. "But why in the name of blood are we wasting time trying to get the beast aboard?"
"Because, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin, observing with some alarm the pendulum-like motion which had begun to affect his free- swinging donkey, "I have an earnest desire to test the effects of flight upon the physiology of the beasts of burden."
"Grief of gods!" said Lord Onosh. "What on earth for?"
"My lord wishes to employ this airship in war, does he not?" said Sken-Pitilkin, looking anxiously upward at his much-burdened donkey.
"He does," said Lord Onosh, referring to himself in the third person, which is one of those grammatical idiosyncrasies commonly allowed to the great.
