'Sean!' cried the bulky-bearded Thodric Jarl, and embraced him. 'Is my mother here?' said Sarazin. 'My father?'
'Both Farfalla and Fox are in X-zox,' said Jarl. 'Most of our people dwell safe in X-zox, for we're often raided by marauders from Stokos, though they've yet to summon up the courage to invade in force. We use the Willow Vale for farming only, and as pastureland for sheep and cattle.' 'Are Fox and Farfalla well?' said Sean Sarazin. 'Both fit, both healthy, both well,' Jarl assured him.
'Do they rule, then?' said Sarazin. 'Are they the lords of Hok?'
'Nay,' said Jarl. 'Hok is ruled by Heth, who holds the land in trust for a greater ruler.' 'Heth?' said Sarazin. 'Did you say Heth, or Hearst?'
'I know nothing of the fate of Morgan Hearst,' said Jarl. 'After Hearst left the Harvest Plains he disappeared to sight. No, it's Heth I'm talking of. Heth. You remember. Don't you?' But Sarazin didn't.
'Never mind,' said Jarl, with a laugh. 'No doubt once you reach X-zox Heth will explain everything to you himself.'
'I live for that day,' said Sean Sarazin, in a tone suggest- ing quite the opposite. 'Meanwhile, what about Peguero? Have you news of him? And Jarnel? And Celadon? Has anything been heard of him?'
While Sarazin had never been close to his brothers – indeed, they were still very much strangers to him – he was eager to learn of their fate.
'All three of your full brothers were here once,' said Jarl, 'as indeed was your half-brother Benthorn. But, like others, they have chosen to flee to the west, to the Scattered Islands and lands beyond.' 'Why should they flee?' said Sarazin.
'Because our war with Stokos threatens our destruction. But as I say, it's but a matter of raiding for the moment. The mountains protect our people in X-zox. Besides, Epelthin Elkin is still masquerading as a wizard, a bluff which helps us keep Stokos at bay. Intimidation, that's the thing.'
Then Sean Sarazin had to tell his sorry news. Lord Regan was dead – and Sean Sarazin the much-betrayed had wasted not a single tear lamenting his deathl – but Jaluba still lived.
'The wench knows the Words,' said Sarazin. 'If she tells all in Stokos, then the enemy can open the Passage Gates and the Lesser Tower itself.'
Jarl saw the danger, and was soon riding for X-zox in company with Sean Sarazin and dwarf, meaning to personally oversee the defences of the mountain-protected enclave and the underground passage which led to it.
Inland went the riders until they had almost reached the Eagle Pass. Then they turned west and marched up an arm of the Willow Vale. Since Sarazin was here last, a road had been laboured through the wilderness, allowing them to travel swiftly to the cliffs in which the Eastern Passage Gate was set.
Sarazin remembered it as being black, but it proved to be a dark blue stained with streaks of opaline iri- descence. Squarebuilt it was, and five times manheight. Warm and dry it was, vibrating faintly beneath his fingertips. 'Open it,' said Jarl.
Then Sarazin said the Word, hoping he had got it wrong. But he remembered correctly, for the Word had been something he had diligently committed to memory during his earlier travails in Hok. And the Passage Gate opened. By vanishing.
Within was the flickering blood-red passageway lit by dragon-head lamps. Sarazin remembered that all right. He remembered what he would see at the far end of the passage, too, when he exited into X-zox. He would see a rock-tumbled goat-footed pastureland reaching away for ten leagues or so to the sea. In fact…
When Sean Sarazin opened the Western Passage Gate and stepped into X-zox, what he saw was a valley ter- raced for intensive cultivation, a valley where he could see at a glance at least a half dozen villages.
A proper path had now been cut in the steep-scrambling slope leading upwards for a league or so to the cliff heights where stood the Towers of X-n'dix. The Greater Tower was, as ever, sealed against entry, its bone-white heights soaring skywards for half a league with a jade and jacinth dragon draped around it.
But the Lesser Tower, that pile of sculptured skulls, bones, heads, fangs, claws and other pieces of anatomy both human and alien, was accessible as always. Within dwelt Epelthin Elkin, who greeted Sean Sarazin warmly when he arrived with Jarl and Glambrax in tow.
The old scholar was wearing a faded, much-patched robe of green and purple. Once it had been a truly gorgeous garment, but the rigours of life in Hok had aged it rapidly. Elkin, however, was unchanged. For as long as Sarazin could remember, the old man had looked much the same. Wisp-frail grey beard, grey hair pigtail-plaited, mahogany skin walnut wrinkled, sky-zenith eyes bloodshot but sharp, stance upright as ever. I'm afraid I bring bad news,' said Sarazin.
Then bravely told how he had foolishly revealed the secrets of the Gates to Lord Regan and Jaluba. And how Jaluba still lived.
Then we must expect invasion from Stokos,' said Elkin gravely. 'Magic may perhaps defeat such invasion,' said Sarazin.
'Have you brought magic with you to X-zox, then?' said Jarl, with a laugh. 'Don't look to old Elkin for any! He is but a fraud, as I've told you already.'
Which reminded Sarazin once again that the Rovac warrior did not know that Elkin was truly a wizard. Well? Could Elkin's magic save them from invasion? The old wizard of Ebber had often pleaded weakness in the past – had in fact insisted more on the weaknesses of magic than its strengths.
Of course, a little bit of Sarazin's magic green candle remained, safe in Glambrax's keeping. A potent weapon indeed! But such a fragment would not burn for long. To think that such might repel an invasion was at best a poor joke. But…
Why should Stokos be at war with Hok? There was no reason that Sarazin could see. Perhaps the conflict could be resolved by treaty.
'Elkin,' said Sarazin, 'Pray tell, what quarrel has Stokos with us?'
'Come,' said Jarl, 'this is no time to talk politics. You'll be wanting to meet your mother. And your father, of course.'
When Epelthin Elkin had first explored the Lesser Tower – years ago, in the course of Sarazin's campaign in Hok against the ogre Tor – he had found many doors, cupboards and chambers which he could not open.
Since then, the elderly wizard had sought to open these, hoping to find treasure left by the Dissidents who had built Castle X-n'dix. Elkin had been largely successful in his efforts, and, while the amount of treasure he had uncovered was zero, this did mean that there was plenty of living space within the Lesser Tower.
It meant, for example, that Fox and Farfalla had a room to themselves. A small room, admittedly, but dragon- lamps within gave light, and an arrowslit allowed a view of a fraction of the sky.
Though Jarl had told Sarazin his parents were fit and well, Sarazin found his father ill, his skin an unhealthy yellow. He had hepatitis. Sean Sarazin, who had been long laid up in bed with the same disease after his disastrous campaign in the marshlands of Tyte, knew just how miserable his father must be feeling.
Still, the occasion was joyful regardless. A time for kisses and embraces. 'Do you know,' said Farfalla, 'we're getting married.' 'When?' said Sarazin. 'On Midsummer's Day,' said Fox. 'Not long to go now.' 'Congratulations!' said Sarazin.
Then, after a great deal of talking – he had adventures to tell of, and his parents had tales of adventures of their own – he finally got round to telling the bad news. About the Words.
'The enemy can likely breach the Passage Gates,' con- cluded Sarazin soberly.
Then,' said Fox, 'your next step must be to see Heth. Have you been told yet?' 'Told what?' said Sarazin.
Fox and Farfalla looked at each other. Then both broke into laughter. 'What's the joke?' said Sarazin angrily.
There was no joke as far as he could see. He had betrayed a secret vital to the defence of X-zox. Now he was due to confront the ruler of that land, the mysterious Heth, who would surely be most unhappy with him. Sean Sarazin had survived the wrath of other princes, true – he had lived through his encounters with Drake Douay and Tarkal of Chenameg. But could he be sure of surviving a third such encounter? He was not optimist enough to count on it.
'Go,' said Fox, waving away Sarazin's questions. 'Go. See Heth. The sooner you know, the better.'
Sarazin, brain positively boiling with unanswered questions, was taken by Thodric Jarl to Heth's quarters.
