by Hugh Cook
So the aeronauts crossed the high pass and headed downward into the next valley. The descent was short, for the valley of Yox was higher still than Ul-donlok. Yox was a desolation of icelocked frigidity where snow still lay on the ground. Its heart was a long and narrow iceblock lake which looked as if it would not unfreeze until the sun grew old and swallowed the very planet in the swollen bloating of its heatstroke age.
At the valley's north-eastern end was the high pass known as Volvo Marp. Fortunately, Volvo Marp was marginally lower than Zomara Pass, and the travelers crossed it with comparative ease.
As the air adventurers were about to commence their descent - which would take them beneath the ominous threat of a prodigious overhang of unstable ice and rock - Ontario Nol bade them farewell. The venerable wizard of Itch took one mule to carry his own supplies on the return trip, but left the air adventurers with the other two animals; and left, also, the pain-medicine with Thodric Jarl.
Thus left to their own devices, the aeronauts descended. Guest Gulkan endured more than a few twinges of suspicion as he dared himself beneath the unavoidable overhang, for conceivably Nol could use some power of his to precipitate that overhang into an enormous avalanche, and Guest half-feared him capable of such betrayal.
However, adventurers descended safely, won their way clear of the last of the snow and the ice, then began the sweaty, unromantic labor of making their way through the steep-cut hills to the Yolantarath riverplain.
On that journey, the pain-killing medicine carried for the feeding of Thodric Jarl at last ran out; and the Rovac warrior recovered both wit and competence, which was by no means an improvement, for he regained his narrow paranoia along with his intellectual agility. Glambrax swore that Jarl, fearful of the pickpocketing abilities of wizards, was at pains to count his own testicles every time he went for a piss.
Paranoia notwithstanding, Jarl kept his temper in check; for the wizards Pelagius Zozimus and Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin enjoyed the protection of the Witchlord Onosh, and Thodric Jarl was solemnly sworn to the Witchlord's service. Hence Zozimus and Sken-Pitilkin, unlike the almost-murdered Ontario Nol, enjoyed the protection of a privileged position, and were theoretically safe from the murder which dwelt impatiently within the Rovac warrior's blade.
In the peace of that protection, the journey from the heights to the river was almost without incident.
True, Guest Gulkan almost got the whole party murdered when he tried to seduce the virginal priestess who presided over the decidedly tantric rites of a village of benighted charcoal burners. In that same village, Glambrax was bitten by a rabid dog which was foaming at the mouth. Zelafona hustled her son to the nearest stream, where she supervised the washing of his wound with water and the scrubbing of the same disfigurement with soap - a good initial treatment for rabies, and the sooner done the better.
"If that is the initial treatment," said Glambrax, "what is the follow-up treatment should I prove to be infected?"
"The cutting off of your head," said Guest Gulkan heartlessly. "A loving decapitation, done to prevent unspeakable hells of suffering."
"Never fear, for I have drugs," said Sken-Pitilkin, lying like a horse trader. "Precious drugs of miraculous rarity which will consummate your cure should you fall sick."
"I pick you as a liar," said Glambrax.
"Then you pick him wrongly," said Zelafona warmly, "for Sken-Pitilkin and I have often shared the inner secrets of the healing arts. The good Sken-Pitilkin has the drugs of which he speaks, and will cure you if you sicken."
This from Zelafona's mouth was as much a lie as when it came from Sken-Pitilkin in the first place. But Glambrax was cozened into believing the lie, and belief put his heart at rest; and thus did wizard and witch between them cure the dwarf of his anxiety, if not of any contagion he might have contracted.
Would Glambrax fall ill of the rabies? There was no telling.
The incubation time of the disease varies from two weeks to two years - so the question of contamination is not swiftly to be resolved.
With Glambrax maybe dying, and with Guest Gulkan lucky to have escaped death, the party proceeded, and nearly died out to the last person when Pelagius Zozimus cooked them some greenish- blue fungal growths which he swore to be edible. Then there was the pit-trap which almost claimed Sken-Pitilkin, even though it was actually intended for bears; and there was the wasps' nest which almost secured a gruesome demise for Rolf Thelemite; and an unfortunate accident befell Thodric Jarl, for, in the grip of some nightmare which he refused to explicate thereafter, he almost strangled himself in his sleep.
But, these minor incidents excepted, all were in good health and better spirits by the time they reached the Yolantarath, where they were promptly captured by a cavalry patrol loyal to Sham Cham, the leader of Locontareth's tax revolt.
The troops who had captured Thodric Jarl and his confederates were Rovac warriors loyal to the Muktih of Stranagor, a military governor who had been appointed by the Witchlord Onosh, but who had betrayed his rightful liege lord by throwing in his lot by the tax revolutionist Sham Cham. Since Jarl was of the Rovac, the prisoners were not slaughtered on the spot. Rather, they were taken to the city of Locontareth, the center of the tax revolt, and there -
On account of the prestige of their persons, Guest Gulkan and his associates were soon dragged in front of Sham Cham himself.
Sham Cham? A hairy individual with the manners of a monkey, unclean in his person and foul in his breath. Let us waste no time on Sham Cham. He thought himself a great political philosopher because he was too selfish to contribute to the common good by paying his taxes, but it takes more than tax delinquency to make a leader. Sometimes the man calls forth the moment, and sometimes the moment calls forth the man; and on this occasion, the moment was in the ascendancy.
At least if Sken-Pitilkin was any judge of character.
"You have heard," said Sham Cham, once he had gone through the ritual of cutting away some of Guest Gulkan's hair plus a button's worth of Guest Gulkan's scalp, "that I am at war with your father. What do you think of that?" Guest Gulkan, bleeding generously from his missing button's worth, tried to remember Ontario Nol's elegant arguments about farmers fertilizing their crops to improve yields.
"As farmers shit on fields," said Guest, wiping the blood from his eyes and flicking that blood from his fingers at random,
"so should my father shit on you."
Sham Cham did not take kindly to being besplattered by the blood from Guest Gulkan's fingers. Nor did he at first take kindly to the political dictum which Guest had enunciated, so Guest promptly blamed it upon Ontario Nol.
"Who is this Nol?" said Sham Cham. "I should dearly like to meet him, so I can kill him."
"Ontario Nol," said Sken-Pitilkin, coming to the rescue, "is an economist, an economist who thinks that Gendormargensis should share its tax revenues with Locontareth for the greater ultimate good of the empire. This is what the boy Guest meant when he passed his earlier comment about excrement."
Then Sken-Pitilkin said more, much more, most of which was pleasing to Sham Cham, who was glad to hear that the number of his supporters had been enlarged by the addition of an economist.
"Very well," said Sham Cham, when he understood the truth of the dictums enunciated by Ontario Nol, the abbot of Qonsajara. "So much for Nol. But what about the rest of you. Are you for me or against me?"
"What happens if we're against you?" said Guest.
"You die," said Sham Cham.
"Then I'm for you," said Guest promptly, thus throwing in his lot with the revolutionaries.
Zelafona had managed to pass for a useless old beggar woman, and hence was asked for no oath. But an oath was demanded of all the males, and all swore themselves to the service of Sham Cham - except for Thodric Jarl, who said he was sick, useless for battle on account of his half-healed ribs, and therefore should not be compelled to declare his allegiance one way or another. The Rovac warriors loyal to the Muktih of Stranagor supported Jarl in thi
s, so Sham Cham, not wanting to pick any arguments with any of his supporters unless he absolutely had to, decided not to push the issue.
A few days later, Jarl escaped, which roused Sham Cham to a fury. He brought together the Rovac warriors in whose custody Jarl had been kept, listened to their excuses, then massacred the lot of them. It was pointed out to him by some of his advisers that this might have been a mistake, since the Rovac were acknowledged to be mighty in war.
"They were only a handful," said Sham Cham, "and a handful will make no difference to the military equation. Besides, I still have one Rovac warrior to my name - the mighty Rolf Thelemite!"
This was true.
Sham Cham did have Rolf Thelemite in his service.
And Sham Cham believed - after all, Rolf Thelemite had told him as much - that Thelemite had personally been responsible for the conquest of three empires, seven kingdoms, twenty cities and three dozen castles, and had been a very master of every aspect of military science since the tender age of three.
With Stranagor having chosen to support Locontareth in revolution, Sham Cham's next move was to advance on Gendormargensis, and this he began to do. In his wake, the revolutionary leader left behind all useless mouths, including the dralkosh Zelafona, who was forced to beg anonymously for her bread in the streets of Locontareth.
In breach of his oath, the dwarf Glambrax deserted from the army on its second day of march, and sought out his mother in the streets of Locontareth, meaning to be a help and comfort to her in those days of danger and difficulty. Thus did the dwarf prove himself to be alien to the common usages of the society of men.
And, worse, he almost proved the death of his comrades, for this desertion made Sham Cham doubt the oaths of the others.
But the eloquence of the wizards Zozimus and Pelagius, coupled with the warlike enthusiasm of Rolf Thelemite, helped persuade Sham Cham that those others would fight by him loyally.
As for Guest Gulkan -
"Why, as for me," said the Weaponmaster, "I've bitter cause to fight my father, for he cheated me of the woman Yerzerdayla.
Tall she was, and beautiful. For the sake of her flesh, I risked my life against the sword of Thodric Jarl. I fought for the woman in Enskandalon Square, fought a fair fight in the presence of witnesses. I won. I won the woman. So now she's mine, officially, my own, my concubine, my slave. But I was exiled from my home, her flesh untasted, and I don't doubt that Thodric Jarl's been tupping with the blonde-haired bitch in my absence. Why should I love my father when he cheats me of the rights of my sword?"
Thus Guest spoke. And, unspoken, but adding sincerity to his cause, was Guest's belief that he himself should have been the anointed heir to the ruling throne of the Collosnon Empire. Yes, Guest Gulkan thought himself a better man than his brother Eljuk, and was bitterly resentful of the fact that Eljuk was destined to inherit the empire.
So Sham Cham was convinced; and the lives of Guest Gulkan and his companions were made safe against arbitrary execution; and the army continued its advance.
That advance came to an abrupt halt in early summer, some distance short of Babaroth, when scouts reported that Lord Onosh was waiting by the Pig River to receive them in battle.
Sham Cham's next trick was to send Guest Gulkan to meet with his father in a peace conference.
Ah, Witchlord and Weaponmaster in conference! What a sight to behold! Sken-Pitilkin was at that conference, and duly beheld the sight. More foul and savage language was exchanged between father and son than could be comfortably contained by less than a quire of parchment. Then, having at last exhausted their confrontational resources, the pair got down to business, and Guest Gulkan gave his father the benefit of his recently acquired wisdom in political economy:
"Ontario Nol says you should shit on people. But I say that's not enough. I think you should positively bathe them in dung. A general manuring, that's what I think. It's like Nol, only more so."
"Who then is this Ontario Nol?" said Lord Onosh.
"That's my secret," said Guest.
In the face of his son's intransigence, Lord Onosh asked his imperial advisers to prove out Nol's identity, but they were unable to give him any clues as to the genesis of this dangerous lunatic.
"Then," said the Witchlord Onosh, "that's enough of this nonsense. Let's have no more talk of this madman Nol. Just tell me what you want and be done with it."
"I speak for Sham Cham and Locontareth," said Guest. "What we want is to keep more of our own for ourselves. We say it's not enough to get shitted on, not even by the emperor."
The peace conference continued on this note until the Witchlord Onosh gave up all hope of getting any sense out of his enemies. Thus Lord Onosh withdrew to the strength of his army; and Sham Cham, angered by the Witchlord's intransigence, gathered his forces and marched them in good order toward Babaroth, determined to meet the Witchlord Onosh in battle and to defeat him.
Chapter Thirteen
Tax: the tribute which the periphery of the Body Politic contributes to the center, and which the center in its wisdom redistributes to the periphery, with the resulting circulation ideally improving the overall health of the political organism.
Unfortunately the sundry parts of the Body Politic are typically less co-operative than the mouth, heart and fundament of the average human-in-the-flesh, as lack of suitable pain receptors often makes the center insensitive to the sufferings of the periphery. Early in the reign of the Witchlord Onosh, such insensitivity led to the ill-fated rebellion of the Geflung; and a continuation of such insensitivity later precipitated the tax revolt led by Sham Cham of Locontareth.
The town of Babaroth stood a little to the north of the Pig River. It stands there no longer, for the region in question was afflicted by a severe earthquake last year, and by all accounts the town has been entirely destroyed.
Still, when Witchlord and Weaponmaster found themselves as masters of opposing armies, Babaroth was still standing, and serves as a convenient landmark for the action. Let it be noted, however, that the town could not be seen from the battlefield, nor the battlefield from the town, for a forest stood between them.
(Is it really necessary to make this point? Unfortunately, it is, for the realms of scholarship are the scene of much unseemly quibbling, as scholars often seek to shred a great and generous intellectual tapestry by pulling on the smallest and most insignificant of its loose threads. Therefore, at the risk of seeming pedantic, let it be made quite clear that this history does not claim that Babaroth was ever situated precisely at the confluence of the Pig and the Yolantarath, and acknowledges, rather, that a diligent surveyor would have found it some 4,000 paces to the north of the Pig, with a goodly stretch of trees between river and town).
When Sham Cham reached the Pig, he found the single bridge across that tributary was held against him by Lord Onosh.
While some geographies claim the Pig to have been bridged in three places, and others declare it to have been bridgeless, the the truth is that the Pig's bridges varied in number according to the destructive force of the floods of each spring thaw. When the Weaponmaster came in arms against the Witchlord, there was only the one here-mentioned bridge within fifty leagues of the confluence of the Pig and the Yolantarath.
The Weaponmaster, who bore himself as proudly as if he were the very leader of the army, sat on horseback by Sham Cham as that revolutionary leader surveyed the Witchlord's forces. The disposition of those enemy forces seemed clear enough. Some baggage wagons were lined up on the southern side of the Pig, with the Witchlord's army encamped in amongst these wagons and in the dark of the woods on the river's northern side.
Sham Cham set guards and scouts to watch his flanks, prepared his own troops to meet any sudden frontal sally by the enemy, and then in a moment of sudden doubt he sent a swift-riding scouting party galloping to the south, just in case his enemy was somehow setting about engulfing his forces in some prodigious encircling move. Then the bold and brave Sham Cham sent forth his moth
er-in- law to demand the Witchlord's surrender.
Sham Cham's mother-in-law had a tongue so formidable that the revolutionary leader was sure its scourging effect would provoke her butchery. However, to Sham Cham's disappointment, his mother- in-law returned from her dealings with no more damage than the besmirchment of her boots by a trifling amount of horse dung; and she advised Sham Cham (and seemed to derive some considerable pleasure from imparting the advice) that the Witchlord had sworn to personally castrate him, then to bugger him with a bayonet.
"A bayonet?" said Sham Cham, who had never heard of this weapon. "What is a bayonet?"
"A kind of dog trained for the purpose of rape," said his mother-in-law, who never admitted ignorance on any subject.
"No, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin, who in company with Pelagius Zozimus was attending on this council, and who in the daring of his scholarship was prepared to prosecute the cause of truth even in the face of someone's mother-in-law. "A bayonet is not a dog. Rather, a bayonet is a species of detachable knife sometimes found attached to a crossbow. It has a blade triangular in section, nicely designed for - "
"A knife, is it?" said Sham Cham. "Very well. If the thing be built for buggering, then let the Witchlord prosecute it to its purpose. I will happily accept that as the penalty of failure. But I have no thought to fail. Since the Witchlord will not surrender, we must perforce smash through his army. Smash, storm, shatter, seize the bridge, then push through the forest to Babaroth."
"In this matter, my lord," said Pelagius Zozimus, somewhat disturbed by Sham Cham's briskness, "performance may not be as easy as speech."
Zozimus had long fancied himself a military expert of sorts, and hence was quicker to put forward his opinion than was Sken-Pitilkin, who ever preferred the conquest of the irregular verbs to any elaborate schemes for the bloodying of bayonets and the heaping up of the dead. However, despite his scholarly proclivities, the sagacious Sken-Pitilkin was far from innocent of the studious organization of institutionalized bloodshed; and, though Sken-Pitilkin ever believed that the proper place for a cook is in the kitchen, he was inclined on this occasion to believe that the slug-chef Zozimus had a keener apprehension of military difficulty than did the revolutionary leader from Locontareth.
