by Hugh Cook
Through the Door came Witchlord and Weaponmaster, with Thayer Levant trailing but a footfall behind them, and there they found Shabble waiting for them.
Lord Onosh was so disconcerted that he almost turned and fled back through that Door. For, though Guest had by this time described Shabble often and at length, the Witchlord was hard put to maintain his composure when he found that the truth of this flying ball lived to the tale which Guest had told.
"Hello," said Shabble, speaking in the Toxteth which was used by so many of Alozay's inhabitants.
But Lord Onosh made no reply.
Shabble drifted through the air toward the Witchlord. The fist-sized bubble pressed itself against the Witchlord's cheek, rolled up the Witchlord's face, bumped over the ridges of the Witchlord's slanting forehead, shone a tightly-focused beam of light into the mysterious recesses of the Witchlord's bat-wing ears, then rolled down his back, ducked between his legs, and slid upward through the air till they were (so to speak) face to face once more.
"Welcome to my island," said Shabble. "I welcome you. You and my son."
Then Shabble turned on Guest Gulkan.
Shabble drifted through the air to hang hot and humming by the Weaponmaster's ear. Shabble was warm, warm as a cat's yawn, a bath-sponge sea. The warmth was suggestive of magma. Guest thought of scar tissue, of welted burns, of buckled flesh, of molten distortion, of hot-poker pain.
"You have a ring on your finger."
"A ring?" said Guest.
"A pretty ring," said Shabble. "Light within and light without. I have heard of this ring. Yilda!"
At that, one of Shabble's people approached. A woman. A hardbitten woman named Yilda, whom Guest had last seen on Untunchilamon. At that time, he had scarcely remarked her face, for he had not thought her made for great destiny. But obviously he had been wrong.
"Give her the ring," said Shabble. "Do not – do not! – swallow it. The corpse master Uckermark is somewhere in this rock, and his skill is ample for dissection."Guest knew this Uckermark also. The thus-named corpse master had been another of the denizens of Untunchilamon, another of those people whom Guest had never expected to see ever again in his entire life. Guest handed over the ring of ever-ice, the ring which could open and close time pods.
Yilda slipped it on her own finger. Guest then expected Shabble to ask for the mazadath, the silver-gleaming amulet which hung round Guest's neck, against his skin and hidden from the world.
"Guest," said Shabble, singing the name with lilting sweetness. "Guest. There is something else."
"Is there?" said Guest.
He was very conscious of the mazadath's weight. He did not want to give it up. Why? He knew of no certain use for it. But if he could only retain its possession, concealing it from this Shabble, then he would feel he had won a victory of a kind, if only a moral victory.
"Guest, Guest," crooned Shabble. "My dear friend Guest. The wishstone. You had it. Where is it?"
"Did I have it?" said Guest.
"You did!" said Shabble. "And the Cockroach has need of it!"
"Then," said Guest, "you'll have to ask Thayer Levant where it got to, because he was the one who had it last!"
"Levant?" said Shabble. Guest indicated the ever-faithful Thayer Levant. Shabble sang out for guards, and Levant was taken away for interrogation – while Witchlord and Weaponmaster were escorted to the lower depths of the mainrock Pinnacle. Guest and his father fully expected to be promptly thrown into a prison cell. But, instead, they were shown to the best of all available quarters, and were told that they were to be guests of honor at a banquet.
And, that very evening, Guest Gulkan and his father dined in the banquet hall which was such a prominent feature of Dolce Obo, the Pillow Stratum of the Grand Palace of Alozay. Guest was surprised to find the bounty of the autumn harvest gracing the banquet table, for the Weaponmaster had been chronologically disorientated by the pressure of recent events, and by his rapid translation between the differing climates of Obooloo, Dalar ken Halvar and Alozay.
But autumn it was. Guest Gulkan had spent so much time adventuring in Untunchilamon and counting the shadows in a dungeon in Obooloo that the Witchlord Onosh had not been liberated from his time pod in the Temple of Blood until that Midsummer's Day which had been the first day of the Third Year of Peace in the Izdimir Empire.
That day was now three months in the past; the season had turned from summer to autumn; and Alozay was feeding on all which came to the Safrak archipelago from the lands surrounding the Swelaway Sea. Plums, pumpkin, apples, cucumber… Guest lost track of the number of fresh good things laid out to eat.
Yet the Weaponmaster found he wished to satisfy his appetite for conversation more urgently than he wished to appease any demands made by his belly.
At the banquet table he could see his brother Eljuk, and after their long separation Guest found himself longing to talk with Eljuk. Eljuk had stayed on Alozay when Witchlord and Weaponmaster had departed, meaning to raid Obooloo and rescue the Great God Jocasta from Anaconda Stogirov's Temple of Blood.
While Guest had been adventuring, Eljuk had remained on Alozay, studying under the tutelage of Ontario Nol, the wizard of Itch to whom he was apprenticed. Guest found the thought of such a quiet, steady and uneventful life quite incredible, for it seemed to him that the whole world had been the scene of unrelenting alarums for years on end.
Yet the truth is that the world had been a fairly peaceful place in the last few years. At least, the part of the world inhabited by Eljuk had been peaceful. After the departure of Witchlord and Weaponmaster, Bao Gahai had ruled Alozay with an iron hand, managing the affairs of the Safrak Bank efficiently, and managing too the matter of Alozay's relationships with the other Partnership Banks.
To Guest, Eljuk represented – amongst other things – the confidence and security of the life he had enjoyed before becoming entangled in the world of gods and demons. So he longed to talked with his brother. But he was denied opportunity for such conversation, for he was seated between the wizard Sken-Pitilkin and Sod's daughter Damsel. Damsel, who had once perched upon the Weaponmaster, squealing like a wounded mouse as she crested to her ecstasy, spent the whole meal practicing her seductive wiles on the corpse master Uckermark, who was seated on her left. So Guest was left at the mercy of Sken-Pitilkin.
While both Witchlord and Weaponmaster had come to Alozay with the idea of administering a degree of discipline to that wizard of Skatzabratzumon (with Lord Onosh being determined to remove his head, while Guest was more inclined to think the cropping of his ears would be sufficient) they had both now set aside thoughts of such punishment. For both had focused their thoughts firmly on their true enemy: Shabble.
Shabble the usurper!
In any case, it soon became clear that the suspicions of Witchlord and Weaponmaster were unfounded, and that Sken-Pitilkin had not wilfully conspired to bring Shabble to Alozay. This became particularly clear to Guest at that banquet, for, speaking with all the zeal of a born lecturer, Sken-Pitilkin took the Weaponmaster through a full account of the vicissitudes of his recent life.
After fleeing from Untunchilamon, the sagacious Sken-Pitilkin had eventually arrived at Port Domax with Shabble. No easy journey, that! For, just as Guest had suffered unanticipated complications to his journey from Injiltaprajura to Dalar ken Halvar, so too had Sken-Pitilkin endured a number of the most perilous and extraordinary embroilments imaginable. And the wizard told the Weaponmaster of all of these embroilments – and told of them at full length.
At last, however, Sken-Pitilkin had reached Port Domax, the famous free port on the southern shores of Tameran. There, Shabble had founded a Temple of Cockroach, a temple to be presided over by two natives of Untunchilamon, a young man named Chegory Guy and a young woman named Olivia Qasaba.
Thereafter, Shabble had taken to exploring the surroundings, eventually venturing as far as Safrak.
"It may well be," said Sken-Pitilkin, "that Shabble knew of this place from ea
rlier encounter. But in any case, little can be hidden from a bubble so versatile in its curiosity. The fact is that Shabble won every secret of the Safrak Bank, and then prevailed upon Bao Gahai to establish a branch of the Cult of Cockroach upon Alozay."
Adroitly blackmailed by Shabble – who threatened to expose the secret of the Doors of the Circle of the Partnership Banks to the whole world – Bao Gahai had conceded the Cockroach a temple.
The dralkosh had hoped that Shabble would be content with that, but by slow and remorseless degrees Shabble had built up an organization on Alozay and had taken all power on that island into (so to speak) its own hands.
"Well," said Guest, when Sken-Pitilkin's story was finished.
"This is all much different than what we were led to expect by Plandruk Qinplaqus."
"Dalar ken Halvar cannot hope to have any certain knowledge of Safrak," said Sken-Pitilkin, "for Shabble has not allowed the Banks any unrestricted use of the Door. The bouncing bubble is feckless when its attention wanders, but right now it is flushed with the first enthusiasm of a new toy. I think the Circle will hold its full attention for some time to come, and it will be hard for anyone to distract it. These days, Shabble spends the daylight with the Door, examining all those who come through it, and sleeps by night with the star-globe on the floor beside it."
"You mean," said Guest, "that the Door is closed by night?"
"I do," said Sken-Pitilkin.
The wizard needed to say no more on that subject, because Guest could imagine how such nightly closure would distress the Banks, which were accustomed to make full and never-ceasing use of the Circle of Doors to shift their merchandise from one place to another.
"Have you more to tell?" said Guest, still unclear as to whether or not Sken-Pitilkin had thrown in his lot with Shabble.
"No," said Sken-Pitilkin. "That's it. That's the story of our lives since last we met. Your own story, I hazard, is more of a saga in its shaping."
"So it is," said Guest. "But before I tell it, pray tell me this – where is our friend Zozimus?"
"Why," said Sken-Pitilkin, "he is still in Port Domax, still the pet of the sweet Olivia, since he is still incarcerated in the flesh of a hamster."
"Still!" said Guest.
"I fear," said Sken-Pitilkin solemnly, "that his transformation may be permanent."
"So," said Guest Gulkan, "Zozimus is doomed to serve a hamster's flesh, and we in our turn are doomed to be slaves in the service of Shabble."
"You have truthed about Zozimus," said Sken-Pitilkin, "but declare your own fate in error. You will be no slaves for Shabble.
Rather, you are far likelier to be emperors, since Shabble plans nothing less than the conquest of the world. The smallest part of Shabble's domains will then be an empire, and each of you likely to have charge of such."
Though Guest had feared that Shabble might have designs on the very world itself, it was one thing to fear as much and quite another to hear it stated of a certainty.
"You spoke of the Circle!" said Guest, in unconcealed alarm.
"You said nothing of the world!"
"No," said Sken-Pitilkin, "but I am saying it now. Shabble, my friend, in truth plans nothing more or less than the conquest of the world."
"Who told you that?" said Guest, wondering if the wizard had perhaps been reading his mind.
"Why, Shabble, of course!" said Sken-Pitilkin – who, as a wizard of the order of Skatzabratzumon, had absolutely no mind- reading powers whatsoever.
Then Sken-Pitilkin elaborated Shabble's plans. The bubble of bounce planned to use the Circle of the Partnership Banks to spread the Cult of Cockroach throughout the whole world. Guest did not like this idea one little bit, because he was unwilling to bow to a bubble. Or to propitiate Cockroach! He was still not sure where Sken-Pitilkin stood – so took a risk, and made his displeasure plain.
"I would rather see the world burn than see it fall to Shabble's possession," said Guest. Sken-Pitilkin looked around the banquet hall to see where Shabble was. Shabble was chasing in and out of the smoke-rings which were being blown by a pipe-smoking Yilda. Safrak's banquet hall was dominated by the braying hubbub of a heavy-drinking dinner in its bone-picking phase. Sken-Pitilkin looked around to make sure no servant was standing behind him, then masked his mouth with a wineglass full of red, then leaned close to the Weaponmaster and said:
"If you wish to overthrow Shabble," said Sken-Pitilkin, "then you will need allies for the purpose. I suggest you speak to your tutelary demon to see how that dignitary views our bubble."Guest Gulkan did not like this idea at all, but after some persuading by Sken-Pitilkin he left the banquet early and took himself off to the Hall of Time. Thus did the lordly Weaponmaster come once more into the presence of Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis,
Demon by Appointment to the Great God Jocasta.
The jade-green monolith of cold-glowing stone stood exactly where Guest had left it – at the eastern end of the Hall of Time.
Little had changed in that Hall. It was larger than Guest remembered, for his recent past was so tainted by dungeon confinements and underground endurance tests that his memories of the entire world had been claustrophobically squeezed. Yet the oval Hall cut in the granite of the mainrock Pinnacle had undergone no such crushing, and was still its full hundred paces in length, its full three dozen paces in width. And the jade-block demon was still its original height, which was twice Guest Gulkan's own.
"So," said Iva-Italis, when Guest presented himself. "It's you. Have you come to beg forgiveness of my lord and master?"
The demon addressed Guest in Eparget – a courtesy which was much appreciated. In many ways, Guest had found the worst and most effortful part of his travels to be the weary business of dickering with strangers in languages of which he lacked a perfect comprehension. To be addressed in the Eparget of his Yarglat upbringing was a great relief, and Guest felt a surge of positive gratitude. Even so, he did his best to hide that emotion.
"No," said Guest staunchly. "I have not come to beg forgiveness. It's you who should be begging me. And I wouldn't forgive you even if you did. You never told me I needed a knife!"
By this remark, Guest was referring to the special knife he had needed to cut the Great God Jocasta free from force-field imprisonment – the knife which he had been forced to win from the Mutilator of Yestron in battle.
The knife which – he did not like to remember it! – he had subsequently lost in the Temple of Blood.
But, though the need for such a knife had not been explicated to Guest before his first venture to the Temple of Blood, and though Guest had suffered much at the hands of the Great God Jocasta since then, the demon Iva-Italis did not so much as bother to acknowledge the Weaponmaster's discontent.
"If you are not here to beg forgiveness," said Iva-Italis,
"then what are you here for?"Guest, seeing that the demon was quite shameless about the way in which it had misled him about the nature of the task it had wanted him to perform in Obooloo, dropped the subject and got down to business immediately.
"I have come to seek your aid against Shabble," said Guest.
"I don't know if you've heard, but Shabble has seized Safrak.
Shabble's a ball, a ball which flies. It throws fire, too, and speaks in prophecy of the teachings of a Cockroach."
"I know of Shabble," said Iva-Italis. "And I know of Shabble's recent doings. Do not trouble your head about Shabble, dear friend, for Shabble is but a toy, a thing of trifles."
"A toy!" said Guest.
"Just so," said Iva-Italis approvingly.
"This… this toy of which you speak so lightly, this toy has set its heart on global conquest, a feat one thinks within its powers."
"Undoubtedly," said Iva-Italis, entirely unperturbed by this probability. "So Shabble seizes. So Shabble conquers. But, having seized, will Shabble hold?"
"I don't see what can stop the thing," said Guest.
"It's not a question of stopping," said Iva-Italis. "The t
hing is a toy, as I have said. It is trifling in its nature. It has fads, fashions, passing fancies. The preaching of religion, the conquest of the world – Guest, the thing is but a bubble. It will tire of its games. Come back to me when Shabble is gone, and then we will talk business."
Privately, Guest thought as did Iva-Italis. Shabble would tire of the game of world conquest sooner or later. But it had by now occurred to Guest that the people Shabble had been installing on Alozay – many of them piratical refugees who had fled from Untunchilamon and had arrived by diverse paths at the Temple of Cockroach which had been founded in Port Domax – would not tire so readily.
By the time Shabble abandoned the Circle of the Partnership Banks to find new toys elsewhere, Shabble's followers might have consolidated a regime which could rule the world with or without the bubble of bounce – a regime which would have precious little use for Guest Gulkan, and precious little time for his pretensions to power.
So Guest wanted Shabble abolished – and now! Guest had expected Iva-Italis to be angry rather than calm; and, finding the demon not angry, Guest presumed the thing to be ignorant of the fate of its master Jocasta, and hence vulnerable to bluff.
"My lord," said Guest, seeking some way to bend Iva-Italis to his will. "You may not have heard, but your master Jocasta is in desperate peril in Obooloo. Shabble has chosen to close the Door which gives us access to Obooloo from Alozay. If we could but reopen that Door, and promptly, then – "
"You are a liar," said Iva-Italis calmly.
"A liar?" said Guest, effecting surprise. "Me? My lord, the Yarglat are noted for their honor."
"You," said Iva-Italis, "are noted for the weight of your turds and the bigness of your ears. I am in daily contact with the Great God Jocasta. Even now, that Great God languishes in Dalar ken Halvar, recovering its strength after an encounter with the evil Anaconda Stogirov."
"So you will not help me," said Guest.
"I will do nothing precipitate," said Iva-Italis. "If you cannot control your suicidal urge to over-hasty action, then you must find your death in your own time, in your own way, and without any help from me."
