by Hugh Cook
To make contact with the Mahendo Mahunduk, a candidate wizard must enter the Warp in the Shackle Mountains; and this, as Sken-Pitilkin painstakingly explained to Guest, exposed the Confederation to danger.
"For," said Sken-Pitilkin, "to maintain its strength, the Confederation needs an infusion of new blood. Were anyone to use armed force to close the road to the Place of Testing, then the Confederation would have no means to replenish its strength. Hence the secrets of the Warp are exceptionally sensitive."
"But," objected Guest, "it is widely known that wizards make pilgrimage to the Shackle Mountains."
"Perhaps," said Sken-Pitilkin. "But further publicity will be less than welcome. If you preach to the world of the Mahendo Mahunduk then the Confederation will kill you."
"I was hardly preaching!" protested Guest.
"Be deaf, dumb and mute," said Sken-Pitilkin. "Else you will be die in these mountains, and soon." Guest Gulkan obeyed.
But the Weaponmaster was far from happy at being told to shut up and do nothing. While Guest Gulkan had stoically endured the long journey from Drum to Drangsturm, his subsequent interrogation by ethnologists and the longeurs of Sken-Pitilkin's trial, the cumulative effects of these insults to his autonomy had bred in his breast a savage frustration. Guest Gulkan had desired to make himself the conqueror of the Circle of the Partnership Banks, or at least of some small portion of that Circle. To that end, he had quested for the x-x-zix, had dared himself into the Stench Caves, had gone head-to-head with
Aldarch the Third and Anaconda Stogirov, had contended against Great Gods and demons, and had put himself through more torment than most people endure in a lifetime.
And what was the end result of all this?
Why, the end result of this was the total perversion of all his expectations – so that, rather than ruling an empire, he found himself tagging along behind a band of wizards, a refugee dependent on the charity of Ontario Nol, a ragged swordsman without power or authority or status or recognition.
And now, as a crisis neared, as his brother Eljuk looked likely to die, as Sken-Pitilkin looked certain to die, as Shabble was to be wastefully consigned to whatever destruction waited behind the Veils of Fire, why, Guest Gulkan's sole role was apparently to be a gawking spectator.
Now Guest no longer had the confidence to believe that he could successfully challenge the strength of a parcel of wizards armed and ready for action – but, as his frustration mounted to a head, he began to think himself ready to take on the world regardless, even if his certain doom was to be the result.
The next day, with Guest still brooding darkly on the collapse of his hopes and the many insults which had been done to his dignity, the travelers labored to the top of a sharp ridge, and found themselves looking across a steep but narrow valley.
"On the other side of this valley," said Ontario Nol, "is the Cave of the Warp." Guest Gulkan looked across the valley and saw not one cave but an array of gaping holes opening to realms of darkest shadow.
"It looks like a perfect lair for dragons," said the Weaponmaster.
"Dragons would not live here," said Ontario Nol. "They must live near their food. Hence you will find them near the sea, where they can fish for the whale; or close to our cities, where their food runs two-legged; or else living near volcanoes or similar, for they can diet upon sulphur at a pinch."
Having received that intelligence, Guest Gulkan studied the prospect further, then said:
"These caves have been artificed by the hands of men."
"What makes you think that?" said Ontario Nol.
"The spacing is regular," said Guest, holding out his hand and measuring the gap between each cavemouth with his fingers.
"Nothing in nature is so regular of formation."
"The caves were made," acknowledged Ontario Nol. "But I would not say that they were necessarily made by men."
"By who, then?" said Guest. "Gods? Demons?"
"I cannot say," said Nol.
"Why not?" said Guest.
"Because," said Nol, "I do not know."
And, with that, the wizard of Itch headed downward into the valley.
By evening, the travelers had reached the cave of the Warp, which proved singularly disappointing. It was a big cave, true, but no monsters lurked in the velvety blue-black of its shadows.
Instead, at the far end of the cave – some fifty paces from the opening, in Guest's judgment – there was a wall of interwoven rainbow. This twisted slowly, sinuously, throwing off occasional sprays of lights.
"That," said Ontario Nol, in portentous tones, "is the Veils of Fire. Many have ventured beyond those Veils, but none have returned to tell the tale. Tomorrow, Sken-Pitilkin will take Shabble beyond those Veils, and both will die."
"So you say," said Guest, who was effortlessly unimpressed by this cave and its Veils.
"I say it because it is the truth," said Nol. "Now come away.
And stay well away from this cave, for sometimes the denizens of these shadows have reached out to kill those who idly outside by the entrance."
"Is that so?" said Guest.
"It is so," affirmed Nol, and drew Guest away from the cave, and compelled him to the campsite which the wizards were setting up a stone's throw distant from that cavern.
By this time, Guest was more than half-convinced that the wizards were the victims of a communal hallucination; and that, if anyone had truly died inside that cave, then their deaths had more to do with autosuggestion than with the Mahendo Mahunduk or any similar creatures.
That night, Guest Gulkan did not sleep. Neither did most of the rest of the adventurers. The wizards for the most part sat muttering through their Meditations. For them, the Cave of the Warp was a place of the utmost significance, whatever Guest might think of it, and to be in its presence awakened old dedications, old ambitions, so that the most slovenly amongst them was compelled to fresh endeavor.
Eljuk sat apart, keeping a solitary vigil, and when Guest approached him Ontario Nol was quick to head him off.
"Eljuk needs to be by himself tonight," said Nol.
"But I'm his brother!" protested Guest.
"Eljuk is a wizard now," said Nol. "Or will be if he survives tomorrow."
After this uncompromising brush-off, Guest wandered away from the campsite and sat sulking in the dark of the upland night. But it was too cold to sit sulking for long, so he was soon on his feet again.
Natural curiosity, combined with a childish desire to defy Ontario Nol, soon drew guest back to the Cave of the Warp. In that Cave, the rainbow-flickering Veils of Fire still burnt in silence. Guest stood outside, looking in.
Inside this cave, or so he was told, apprentice wizards struggled with the Mahendo Mahunduk, and died if they were not equal to the struggle. To step over the threshold of that cave was to precipitate such a struggle.
So he was told. Guest was strongly inclined to doubt the truth of any of this. The cave simply did not look dangerous. Rather, it looked spectacularly empty.
"I am the Weaponmaster, am I not?"
So muttered Guest. Then he hesitated.
Then -
Then stepped inside.
Once inside, Guest shuddered at his own audacity. But, with shuddering done, he felt no different. He ventured another step.
Where was the danger? Where was the challenge? This was but an empty cave. There was no murkbeast inside, no simulcrum of the Great Mink, no dorgi, no therapist.
"Anyone home?" said Guest.
Not even an echo answered him.
Gaining confidence, Guest boldly ventured all the way to the Veils of Fire, where he again hesitated. Now this, this wall of cold-burning rainbow, this was most definitely something new. But was it dangerous?
As Guest was wondering, the rainbow lashed out. It coiled around his feet and spun in threads of kaleidoscopic lightning, accelerating upward in wreathing coils until his whole body was alive with multicolored light. Wreathed in that light, he felt buoyant, exhilarat
ed – even a little drunk.
Alarmed to find himself growing slightly lightheaded, Guest backed off, and the coils of light relinquished their grip and sank back.
"So," muttered Guest.
So what? What was he to make of this? Guest had dared himself into a cave which wizards thought of a place of death and terror. And inside he had found – well, really, precisely nothing.
"Weirdness," said Guest.
Then made his way back to the cavemouth, and made his exit. Guest had barely exited when he was challenged by Ontario Nol, who was advancing on the cave from the direction of the campsite.
"What are you doing here?" said Nol, when he recognized Guest, whose face was lit by the cold-burning veils of rainbow located fifty paces away, deep in the depths of the cave.
"Investigating," said Guest.
"Investigating?" said Nol. "What are you talking about?"
"Investigating these caves of yours," said Guest. "I don't think much of them. I went right inside, but – "
"Inside!" said Nol. "Enough of your nonsense!"
"It is not nonsense," insisted Guest. "I went inside! Look,
I'll show you, I – "
With that, Guest made as if to enter the cave. But Ontario Nol gripped him with fingers which could have demolished stone, and, trapped by Nol's invincible strength, Guest had no option but to bend to the wizard's will.
"Go back to bed!" said Nol.
"I don't have a bed to go to," said Guest.
"There's comfort sufficient inside the yellow bottle," said Nol. "Come. We'll go there."
And such was the insistence of the wizard of Itch that Guest Gulkan was compelled to enter the yellow bottle, where he found that Sken-Pitilkin was already soundly asleep, dreaming opium dreams thanks to the chemical benediction which had been provided to him by a fellow wizard. Guest was much disgusted by Sken-Pitilkin's stuporous state, and found he could not sleep. In the end, he spent the night talking with Shabble, who seemed unfussed at the prospect of imminent destruction. The truth was, Shabble quite frankly did not believe in the existence of this Warp, or its Veils of Fire, and was perfectly confident of surviving the morrow.
"Perhaps you will," said Guest. "But, one way or another, these wizards will destroy you, because they've set their hearts on your destruction."
"No they won't," said Shabble. "They like me too much."
"They like you!" said Guest.
"Eljuk likes me," said Shabble. "I taught him paper dragons, he likes that. Oh, and the ethnologists like me. I was months and months teaching them sex customs."
"Ethnologists are always in the market for sex customs," said Guest grimly. "But that doesn't stop them being a bunch of coldblooded vivisectionists."
But Shabble would not believe a word of it.
As for Levant, he was asleep, and protested strenuously when Guest tried to wake him for a tactical discussion.
All in all, Guest Gulkan began to get the impression that he was the only person who was capable of making a sane and rational response to the demands of the moment. Sken-Pitilkin, who had retreated to the unpardonable comfort of a drug-stupor, had resigned himself to death with disgraceful ease. Eljuk, with his uninterruptable vigil, had chosen a like-minded retreat into mystical silence. Shabble was fecklessly unconcerned with the future, and Ontario Nol quite flatly refused to accept the results of Guest's Investigations into the Cave of the Warp.
And Levant! Well, Levant had proved his nature with a vengeance. Useless, useless, dead weight and ballast.
So thinking, Guest at last got to sleep, and endured a few brief and troubled dreams before he was roused for the morning's ceremonies.
On the rocky ground outside the Cave of the Warp, those who had made the pilgrimage to these inland heights assembled, with a fair amount of coughing, scratching, hawking and yawning. Guest looked around, and saw that Levant was missing. Thayer Levant, who had no interest whatsoever in Eljuk's Trials or Sken-Pitilkin's execution, had chosen to stay in the depths of the yellow bottle and sleep in late.
But everyone else was there. Sken-Pitilkin was most definitely there, looking much the worse for wear. Indeed, the sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon looked almost as shattered as he had at times on Untunchilamon – particularly after the encounter with the therapist Schoptomov, in which Sken-Pitilkin had almost killed himself by over-exertion.
Seeing the state Sken-Pitilkin was in, Guest saw at once that the wizard would be no use in a battle.
As for Shabble, why, given freedom, Shabble could have incinerated all the wizards with a single blast of fire. But the bubble of bounce was still caught in a web of silver, and tethered by a chain of silver, and whatever the nature of this restraint it most certainly prevented Shabble from throwing any fire whatsoever.
In the cold light of morning, Shabble hummed softly, doing a gentle imitation of the skavamareen.
As Guest surveyed the scene, one of the wizards began to speak. Unfortunately, his entire discourse was in the High Speech of wizards, of which Guest knew not a word; and nobody was in the mood to provide the Weaponmaster with a translation.
After a long and supremely tedious speech, the wizard beckoned to Eljuk, who stepped toward the Cave of the Warp. Eljuk stumbled even before he entered the cave. But enter he did. He took one step, two, three – and Guest began to feel faint.
Realizing he was holding his breath, Guest Gulkan forced himself to breathe. Even as he did so, Eljuk shrieked. Eljuk screamed as if he was being nailed with needles. He collapsed.
Then, to Guest's belief, Eljuk's body began to float upward from the floor of the cave. White fire began to flicker around Eljuk's limbs.
From the somber, funereal silence of the watching wizards, Guest deduced that Eljuk had failed his Trials, and was going to die.
"Well," said Guest staunchly. "That's what you think, but – "
Then, abandoning speech for action, the Weaponmaster pushed through the wizards and strode into the cave.
"Guest!" yelled Nol.
Heedless on the cry from Ontario Nol, Guest Gulkan walked right into the cave. As he touched his brother, the white fire which had been flickering along Eljuk's limbs abruptly died away to nothing. Whatever force had been levitating Eljuk's body ceased to operate, and the full weight of it fell into Guest's arms. Guest grunted as he took the weight.
"Eljuk?" he said.
Eljuk was still breathing, but he was unconscious.
So Guest quite naturally carried him out of the cave.
As Guest exited from the Cave of the Warp, the wizards fell back before him, regarding him with horror. He was no wizard, but he had ventured into the Warp! He had ventured, and had emerged unscathed! Could he then be human? Guest stood before them, an inscrutable Yarglat barbarian, a creature with huge ears and painfully high cheekbones, the embodiment of alien mystery. He had done what nobody else in recorded history had ever succeeded in doing: he had ventured into the Cave of the Warp without a wizard's training to support him, and had come out alive.
As Guest stood there, a voice of thunder boomed:
"I am Lorzunduk, lord of the Mahendo Mahunduk! Behold! And know your doom!"
The voice cried thus in the High Speech of wizards. On hearing the cry, Sken-Pitilkin promptly collapsed.
"See!" said the thunder. "The evil Sken-Pitilkin has been killed! You likewise will die!"
Under the circumstances, this seemed so probable, so easily believable, that the wizards broke and ran. Even Ontario Nol fell back before this combination of inexplicable mystery and patent threat.
One wizard ran too slowly, for Guest grabbed and smashed the wizard who was carrying the yellow bottle – knocked him senseless with fist and elbow, tore the bottle from his possession, then wrested from his finger the ring which allowed one to enter and leave the bottle. Guest lowered Eljuk to the ground.
"Shabble!" said Guest.
The bubble of bounce, which had so recently scattered the wizards with a threat couched in
the High Speech of wizards – for of course it was Shabble, the world's most reckless ventriloquist, who had breached the morning with a voice of thunder – came drifting toward Guest Gulkan.
Shabble was free-floating in the air, the silver-braided tethering rope having been dropped by the wizard who had been holding it. Shabble responded to the Weaponmaster's summons because long and amicable acquaintance had led the shining bubble to think of Guest Gulkan as a friend. Guest promptly grabbed the tethering rope. Then he strode to Sken-Pitilkin and seized the wizard by the scruff of the neck. The wizard was not dead at all – merely unconscious. Guest twisted the ring on his finger, and was carried into the yellow bottle in company with Sken-Pitilkin and Shabble. With no time to waste, the Weaponmaster released the bubble and let the wizard fall, then used the ring to make a solo return to the outside air.
In that outside air, the wizards were already beginning to rally, with Ontario Nol shouting:
"It was Shabble! It was Shabble who shouted! There's no god, no demon, just Shabble!"
Seeing the wizards were no longer running, Guest did a swift calculation. He had hoped to bundle his brother Eljuk into the yellow bottle then head for the hills. But the wizards were no longer running in panic, so Guest could not help to flee across the mountains.
And he had no time to pick up Eljuk.
"Guest!" yelled Nol. "Drop the bottle! Drop the bottle, or you're a dead man!"
So.
So Nol had chosen to throw in his lot with the Confederation.
Well.
He'd have to try something better than threats if he wanted to catch Guest Gulkan!
So thinking, Guest began to back into the Cave of the Warp, carrying with him the yellow bottle which contained Sken-Pitilkin and Shabble (and, presumably, the shamefully oversleeping Thayer Levant).
"Guest," said Nol, advancing to the mouth of the cave. "Come out of there. I don't know why you're still alive, but I don't expect you to live much longer. It's dangerous in there!"
Guest thought this a singularly futile threat, since he was surely a dead man if he came out of that cave to face the wrath of the wizards.
