The Haunted Earth

Jessie said, 'Is it possible that this marauding behemoth in the mountains is such a new myth?'

Tesserax shook his large head. 'It's unlikely. We've run computer depth studies of new trends in maseni society, and we found nothing that could account for this murderous mountain giant.'

'Still…'

'I don't want to cloud your fresh perspective,' the maseni said. 'But I truly believe you'd be wasting time in following up that possibility.'

The black-boled, white-leafed trees grew thicker at the sides of the road, and the hills grew steeper and the clouds gradually came down like heavy blankets onto a bed. They drove on toward Gilorelamans Inn, an ancient hotel on the slopes of the high peaks, which would serve as their base of operations until the case was closed.

Chapter Eighteen

Gilorelamans Inn lay on the lush green lower slopes of the largest peak in the whole range, Piotimkin. It was as far down the rocky mountain as it could get without moving into the foothills, but the view from its grounds was staggering, no matter which direction one looked. Behind were the snow forests and then the bare granite cliffs and finally, high above, the snowfields themselves. On the other three sides one could view vast panoramas of lower lands: hills, hillocks, sparse woods, plains and robot- tended fields.

The inn was pleasing to the eye. It was made from the wood of the conifers which had replaced the black- boled trees as the land rose and the temperature dropped. Its roof had three peaks and two steep valleys between and was shingled with slabs of wood stained black by sap and tar. The windows were deepset and flanked by wooden shutters, reflecting the late afternoon sun and the moving clouds that raced across the sky. Not a single daub of paint marred the inn's natural beauty.

The two-lane road fed directly into the inn's drive, and their robot chauffeur brought them right around the spouting fountain to the front door, which was fully ten feet high and six wide, graced by a shining coppery knob and knocker, each so large it seemed a man would need two hands to grasp them.

'It's lovely,' Helena said. 'It must be very old.'

'The whole place is a mythical establishment,' Tes-serax said. 'It dates back centuries. And because it is mythical, it remains constant, unweathered, untouched by decay.'

As they got out of their limousine, the big front door of the rustic inn swung outward with a great deal of groaning and creaking, successfully attracting everyone's attention. A maseni in black robes came out to greet them. He glided forth, his tentacle hands folded against his chest in such a manner that he suggested a mandarin emperor of another Earth age. He bowed to them, twice to Helena, and said, 'Welcome to Gilorelamans Inn.'

'Thank you,' Helena said.

The mandarin said, 'My name is Tooner Hogar, and I am pleased to serve you. Have you your own service robot, or shall I summon someone to retrieve your baggage?'

'We have our own mechanical,' Tesserax said.

'Very well,' Hogar said. 'When you are ready, please come straight to the desk inside. I'll be waiting.'

He bowed again. And glided inside.

'I don't like that one,' Brutus said.

'He was sweet,' Helena disagreed.

'He was slick, that's all,' the hound growled.

'Slick, indeed,' Tesserax said. 'Tooner Hogar is also known, in maseni mythology, as Hogar the Poisoner.'

'Poisoner?' Jessie asked.

'Poisoner of Gods,' Tesserax elaborated.

'I thought he looked too slick,' Brutus said.

'Tell us more,' Helena said, as their robot began to lift their suitcases from the limousine trunk.

'According to the earliest maseni myths, these mountains are the homes of all our gods. And this particular inn, overseen by Tooner Hogar — Hogar the Poisoner — is the prime meeting place of the gods. Here, the Great Ones can gather to make deals, strike bargains — or merely celebrate some godly holiday. The inn is neutral ground, where one god is powerless to lift his hand against another.'

'But Hogar is not so powerless?' Jessie asked.

'You catch on fast,' Tesserax said.

'I've dealt with so many punks, in my time,' the detective said, 'that I'm usually able to see through them.'

Tesserax said, 'According to the old myths, though the gods could not directly harm each other while in the inn, they often hired Hogar to do their dirty work. Hogar preferred to kill with any of a hundred exotic poisons. Many gods passed away forever, under Hogar's hand. Others who were hardier died only temporarily and rose to live again.'

The robot had taken a collapsible power cart from the trunk and had loaded all their luggage on its flat bed.

'We'll get our rooms, now,' Tesserax said. 'But be warned: do not eat or drink anything which has been prepared by Tooner Hogar.'

'Surely the law doesn't permit him to poison any more,' Helena said.

'You're right,' the maseni said. 'He may only poison those gods who are powerful enough to rise and live again. But, by law, he is allowed to slip certain irritants to others, in place of the poisons he once dispensed. For example, he might offer you an apple which, though not poisoned, is spiked with nausea-inducers or potent laxatives. The law restrains him, but it does not, of course, utterly refuse his urges.'

'But what will we eat?' Jessie asked.

'Our robot has brought along cooking facilities and supplies,' Tesserax said. 'For the duration of our stay here, we will consume only what he has prepared for us.' Tesserax extended an arm toward the open door of the hotel and said, 'My friends, shall we go in?'

The lobby of the Gilorelamans Inn was large, as were most maseni rooms, at least two hundred feet long and a hundred and fifty wide, yet the place had a cozy atmosphere. This was achieved, for the most part, by the use of the dark, naturally stained wood which constituted the walls and the parquet ceiling. The floor was covered with a thick maroon carpet, and the sofas and easy chairs which filled the lounging areas were a matching wine color. Natural wood pillars thrust up toward the roof thirty feet overhead, and crystal chandeliers lighted the room well enough for one to read but not so well that there was the kind of dazzling glare one associated with modern Earth hotels.

When the maseni built an inn for the gods, in their myths, they expressed a bit of taste.

They crossed the room to the desk, where Tooner Hogar waited for them, smiling and nodding, his hands still folded against his chest, his tentacles intertwined.

'We are so pleased to have these distinguished Earth-men visit us at the Gilorelamans Inn,' Hogar said. He pushed two things across the counter to them, a register book and a dish of mints. 'Would you each sign in, please? And do take some complimentary candies.'

Jessie signed the book but avoided the mints.

'No candies?' Hogar asked, smiling gently, amber eyes glittering.

'Well, actually — no, thank you,' the detective said.

'Miss?' Hogar said, offering her the dish.

She refused, picked up the pen and signed both Brutus's and her own name to the register. When she looked up, she saw that Hogar seemed to be hurt by her rejection of the candies and, being Helena, she said, 'Well, you see, I just had dinner, and I haven't any room for anything else just now.'

Hogar frowned and stared more closely at the mints. 'They aren't dusty, are they? Sometimes, in an old mythical place like this, the dust settles. If I don't keep changing the mints every day they get all grimy.'