mushrooms.
The caps of the mushrooms looked like huge cathedral domes and they gave off a steady yellow light that lit up the area for twenty yards around them, and I could clearly see the grass growing in the cave and a path that led off somewhere into the gloom. I could also see four … hmm, I suppose you could have called them ants, bustling around.
At least, the creatures looked more like ants than anything else, although you’re not likely to see ants the length of a man’s arm anywhere else in the world, and completely white, as if they had been rolled in flour. Six legs, eagerly twitching feelers on long heads, massive mandibles, and nothing at all that looked like eyes.
They took no notice of me and it didn’t look as if they meant to attack, which was very cheering for my own peaceable and by no means aggressive personage. I walked round the brigade of oversized ants and set off toward the strange mushrooms. An ant was sitting on one of the mushroom caps and I stopped, uncertain whether to go any closer. Sagot only knew what kind of tricks the insect might pull if it was distracted from what it was doing and caught my scent.
Meanwhile the ant cut a piece out of the mushroom’s cap, which had already suffered plenty of damage, and clambered down the mushroom’s stalk, clutching the trophy in its jaws. I waited until the ant and its edible lantern were out of sight and then walked toward the mushroom. Why was I any worse than an ant? I ought to cut off a small lantern for my own needs as well.
No chance. An ant appeared out of nowhere and blocked my way. And this wasn’t a worker, he was a soldier, I could tell that from his size (a cubit longer than his brothers) and his massive mandibles (they could easily cut through your leg). I waved my hand, trying to attract his attention, but it had no effect, except that his feelers twitched. I took a step toward the ant and he clattered his mandibles irritably in response. Clear enough. I wasn’t going to be allowed anywhere near the mushroom.
“If I had my crossbow, you’d be a bit more polite.”
The guard didn’t respond to that, either. Why bother talking to me, if I didn’t have the crossbow?
Well, now we could try a different approach. I walked back a bit and waited for the ant to leave. Eventually, he did.
I then approached the mushroom, cut off a piece the size of my fist, and set off along the path.
The mushroom gave off even more light than my magical lanterns and, after the long dreary corridor between the hall and the underground lake, it was a gift from the gods.
The path was like a convolution in a Doralissian’s brain. No intersections, no branches.
What about food? May Sagot have mercy! I could have wolfed down an entire bull, stuffed with three sheep, and they had to be stuffed with wood grouse or whatever it was such dishes are supposed to be stuffed with. I was desperately hungry. The piece of mushroom I was holding gave off a divine aroma, and every so often I had to gulp down my saliva to avoid choking on it and dying the death of the bold and the brave. Or the death of the hungry. But I still hadn’t gone completely insane from hunger, and my reason refused to let me try the mushroom. In the first place, I wasn’t a goblin shaman, going around guzzling raw mushrooms and writing crazy books of prophecies. In the second place, I didn’t want to end up writhing on the grass in my death agony if the mushroom turned out to be a poisonous toadstool.
The cluster of mushrooms I’d come across when I left the corridor wasn’t the only one in the cave. From time to time my gaze fell on new islets of light. Naturally, every mushroom had already been claimed and had one or even two soldier ants guarding it.
The deeper I went into the cave, the more ants I met. Most of them were workers dashing about their business, but sometimes I met guards. They took no notice of me, as long as I didn’t make any sudden movements or go too close to them. The workers were obviously busily maintaining the welfare of their own anthill. I reined in my curiosity and didn’t bother the insects. Why provoke the local inhabitants, especially since I’d never get away from them if they decided to tear me to pieces? No weapon could save you against numbers like that.
But later I broke my vow and came into very close contact with the ants’ property. It happened when the number of insects dropped pretty sharply, to no more than two or three insects a minute, instead of fifty.
By the light of the mushroom I saw the following picture: Low thorny bushes growing alongside the path with a couple of worker ants crawling around them. The lads were plucking small green fruits about the size of an apple off the bushes. I waited until they’d eaten their fill and gone on their way, then I looked around and, since I didn’t notice any guards, I started picking the fruit and stuffing it into my bag, on the reasonable assumption that if it didn’t kill the insects, it wouldn’t kill me … probably. The huge thorns on the branches pricked my hands even through my gloves and I winced, but didn’t stop until my bag was crammed with fruit. As soon as it was, I got out of there as quickly as I could, before the ants could catch me at the scene of the crime.
But actually tasting the fruit still required great courage. It was covered with a thick skin and I had to use my knife on it. My nostrils were tickled by the aroma of plums and raspberries. My stomach started gurgling insistently. I took one bite and only came to my senses again after I’d wolfed down four of the fruits. Amazingly enough, my hunger disappeared as if I’d devoured an entire roasted goose. If the fruits turned out to be poisonous after all, at least I was going to die feeling satisfied.
Things looked better immediately. I cheered up a bit and the road ahead no longer seemed weary and endless. About forty minutes later I’d left the Cave of the Ants—as I’d decided to call the place—behind me and walked up a broad stairway into the next cave. The columns here reminded me of dragon’s teeth, and I felt as if I was somewhere in the mouth of a huge monster.
The mushroom was still shining away, and the path wasn’t showing any signs of disappearing, so Harold arrived at the final goal of his present journey without any problems or sudden surprises.
The teeth-columns parted to reveal the entrance to a rather small room. The path divided into eight branches, leading into eight corridors. But they weren’t for me—if what the Messenger had said could be believed, my journey through the Level Between Levels would end here.
The walls were covered with doors cast from bronze that had turned dark green with the passage of time. They had massive handles of the same metal, and there was no sign of any locks or bolts.
I stepped off the path and walked over the grass to the nearest door. After a spot of difficulty, I found what I was looking for. A small blue circle in the bottom corner. Now all I had to do was find a door with a red triangle, pray to Sagot, and walk into the eighth level. I set off along the doors, looking for the right mark.
A green circle, a yellow square, a red square, a black rhomboid, a purple circle, and a triangle—but it was orange. I walked past doors marked with circles, squares, and rhomboids of every possible color. But there wasn’t a single red triangle. Eventually I reached the last door on my tour. There was a green line on it.
Could I possibly have missed the sign I needed? Or maybe no such sign existed? Maybe this was one of the Messenger’s jolly jokes? I’d have to check the marks carefully again. I suppose I could simply have missed it.
The first door. There was a red circle on it.
What was going on? I remembered clearly that there was a blue circle there before. The next door—and now, instead of a yellow circle there was a white rhomboid. The next door—and instead of a yellow square there was a brown triangle. Once I went all the way round, all the signs changed.
Keep calm, Harold! I inspected all the doors again and still didn’t find what I needed. Every single shape and color imaginable, like the Great Market in Ranneng, but there was no little red triangle to be seen anywhere.
Round the circle a third time. The first door. A green square. How much longer could this go on?
I accidentally touched a cold bronze surface and recoiled sharply—the door had turned transparent for a moment. I’d seen what was on the other side! My curiosity was too powerful to resist, and I pressed my palm against the cold surface again. For a couple of seconds nothing happened, then fine ripples started running across the surface and the door turned transparent and I saw the Doors to the third level in front of me.
I went up to the next door and put my hand on it, too.
A huge, brightly lit hall filled with heaps of diamonds. I didn’t know where in the Palaces of Bone this wonder was, but anyone who could get to it was an incredibly lucky man. He’d be rich until the end of time.
I moved on, looking through the doors and not forgetting to search for the red triangle at the same time. Dozens of faceless halls on all levels. But after the Doors, I didn’t see a single place that was even vaguely familiar. In the time I spent walking round those doors, so many pictures of Hrad Spein appeared that my head was filled with a total muddle. The only thing I remembered was a skeleton striding from corner to corner in some vestibule and crimson sparks in some large hall. Imagine the smooth black velvet curtain of night, with crimson sparks scattering across it in the distance, looking very much like the fiery snowflakes of the world of Chaos. I had no
