noticed when the monster died. Then, finally, one wild swipe took its head off entirely, and he realised it must be dead. Or, if not dead, then pretty sick.
Panting, sweating, swaying, Togura halted. He became aware of distant cheering, and realised it was for him. He felt dizzy and very distant.
A wordmaster advanced and clapped him on the shoulder.
'That was very well done, young man.'
'Thank you,' said Togura, good manners providing him with something to say.
'Come with me,' said the wordmaster.
'I must clean my blade,' said Togura, remembering that to be something that heroes were said to say after battle.
He tried wiping the bloodstained blade against the monster's flank, but succeeded only in getting it stained with yellow pus. He tried again, and failed. He was shaking. He was rapidly becoming tearful.
Realising the meat cleaver was causing his young charge some distress, the wordmaster wisely removed it from Togura's grasp and threw it to one side. Then he led Togura into the Wordsmiths' stronghold. As they walked along together, Togura tottering and leaning on the older man for support, the crowd cheered once more.
'Who was that who just went in?' asked Baron Poulaan, arriving on the scene.
'A young man. He killed the monster.'
'What kind of young man?' asked the baron, on the off chance. 'Do you know his name?'
'Oh yes sir,' said a milkmaid, who was more knowledgeable than her years might have suggested. 'He's Barak the Battleman.'
'And who might that be?'
'A visitor, sire,' said a woodcutter from Down Slopes. 'Assassin and swordfighter, they say. Escaped gladiator from the murk pits of Chi'ash-lan, if you ask me.'
And he pulled down one eyelid in a very suggestive gesture.
'Oh,' said the baron, losing interest.
He turned away and set off for the Suets. He would challenge them and find out where they had hidden his son. If the Suets failed to yield up Togura, then there might be feuding about this.
Chapter 6
Within the Wordsmiths' organisation the ranks, from lowest to highest, were:
1. servitor;
2. scribe;
3. translator;
4. wordmaster;
Brother Troop was a wordmaster. As befitted his rank, he wore a multicoloured harlequin robe and felt slippers. He was a short, bouncing, jovial man with a ready smile which showed him to be both pleased with himself and pleased with the world. He wore much of his worldly wealth beneath his skin, but Togura, after his recent encounter with Slerma, could not bring himself to describe the Brother as fat.
'So you're the hero,' said Brother Troop, rubbing his hands together.
'I suppose I am,' said Togura, with some surprise.
He had been given a change of clothes and the chance to cleanse himself of monster muck, but he was still a little disorientated.
'Ahaha!' said Brother Troop, not quite laughing and not quite not. 'You suppose you are. Of course you are! The vigour of the very young. Amazing, isn't it?' And he touched his nose. 'Youth is a wonderful thing.'
'You're not so old yourself,' said Togura.
'Perhaps not, but I was never as wild as you. I was born sensible. And more's the pity. A great handicap, I think. All power to the brave and reckless, eh? Hey? Ahaha! Come, I'll show you around.'
'Well, really, I'd – '
'Later,' said Brother Troop, giving him to chance to say that he'd really like a little to eat, a little to drink and a lot to sleep. Instead, the good Brother swept him away on a whirlwind tour which took him through the kitchens – too quickly, alas – sleeping quarters, lecture rooms, study rooms, dungeons and cloisters, and then to the main courtyard of the Wordsmiths' stronghold.
'Here's where it all happens,' said Brother Troop. 'And that, my son, is the odex.'
'That?'
'Believe me. You stand in the Presence.'
The odex was a thin grey disk; Togura could just have spanned its diameter with his outstretched arms. Seen side-on, it appeared to disappear entirely. Seen from an angle, it acted as a mirror, reflecting the surroundings.
'Stand in front of it,' said Brother Troop.
Togura moved round in front of the odex, which hung in the air, standing knee-high off the ground without any apparent means of support. As he came directly in front of it, the mirror surface broke into discordant cascades of colour and light. These shimmered, swirled, stretched, contracted and pulsed.
'Is it angry?' said Togura warily.
At his words, a puff of red mist broke loose from the surface of the odex. It twirled lazily in the air.
'Who knows?' said Brother Troop.
At his question, the red mist broke apart with a sound like a breaking harp string; a dozen bubbles of bright light frolicked out of the odex and began chasing each other through the air. Similar manifestations and dispersions continued as the two spoke together.
'Where do these things come from?' said Togura.
'From the odex, of course. You can see that for yourself.'
'Is it dreaming?' asked Togura.
'No,' said Brother Troop, uncertainly; it had never occurred to him that the odex might dream. 'We don't think it dreams. We don't really think it's alive. After years of study, we've come to think that it's like a knife. It means neither good nor ill. If it cuts, that's due to our clumsiness. We don't think it dreams – or gets angry.'
'But it sent you the monster,' said Togura. 'Why did it do that?'
'It does nothing on its own,' said Brother Troop. 'Left to its own devices, it just sits there meditating. We speak. We summon. We call things from its infinite resources.'
'Then how did you summon the monster?' said Togura.
'By accident.'
'Could you summon another?'
'Only be another accident. You see – '
A tangle of spiderweb came floating out of the odex. Brother Troop knocked it aside with a casual sweep of his hand. It grabbed hold of him, battened onto his flesh and began to feed. It hurt. His senses demolished by pain, Brother Troop fell to the ground, flailing at the invader. Togura helped him destroy it. They succeeded, but there was a violent red rash on the wordmaster's hand where the web had been feeding.
'Look!' said Brother Troop.
Overhead floated an ilps. It was a large one, mostly teeth, horns and trailing tentacles. It had just escaped from the odex.
'Who are you?' shouted Brother Troop.
But the ilps was nimble. It floated fast and high, soaring up and over the roof and out of sight.
'Let's go inside,' said Brother Troop. 'We've endured the Presence quite enough for one day.'
At his words, there was a roar. Both of them jumped. But, fortunately, the odex had not generated another monster. Just the roar of a monster.
