Worse was to come.
“Pass me one,” blared Storm Grower. “Pass me one as well.”
“You don’t need it,” he bellowed. “You live off my gut as well as me.”
“We live off our gut, monster. I have a tongue to taste food as well. Pass me one.”
“Get your own, Cloud Teaser.” He set himself, grunting, not giving way as the flesh between them stretched. A lightning bolt flicked him on the ear and he bellowed, jerking upright. Storm Grower took advantage of this to pull out a pole of her own, this one decked with the body of a man. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to keep from crying out, for the body was not dead.
“Not fresh,” she complained in her giant’s rumble. Stones quivered from the roof far above, and a sprinkling of dust fell upon them. “Not fresh enough.”
“Keep your voice down, idiot. You’ll have us buried alive. And what do you mean, not fresh? I saw it squirm.”
“Barely. Been there too long. Mostly dead. I like ‘em lively, Miner. Lively. So they tickle on the way down.”
“I’ll tickle you if you don’t keep your voice down. You’re bringing rock on our heads.”
“Time this cavern was opened to the sky, brother. Time to get the moles in again.”
“Time enough for that when we’ve done with our plans for mankind, sister. Soon, now. Call the creatures back. Time to dispose of them. And keep your voice down.” Still the caverns quivered at her call, a vasty bellowing as though some cataract rumbled far beneath them, summoning the Oracle’s return. When it came, it brought the Merchant with it, but only him, to stand as they had before at the gallery edge.
“Well, my son,” bellowed Storm Grower. “Have you done our will?”
“I put the powdered crythtalth in their wine at the rethepthion, if thatth what you mean.”
“All of them? Huldra? Valearn?”
“All of them. They didn’t know it wath there. They thtill don’t. Tho far ath they know, they follow you of their own free will. Jutht ath I do.”
“Ah. Well and good, my boy. Well and good.”
“Tho, now I’ve done it, I want you to tell me.”
“Tell our great boy what? What would he like to know?”
“When I’m going to grow. When will it be? I am no bigger than ten yearth ago.”
“Ah, well, when do you think it will be, Miner? When was it we began to grow?”
“Not much for the first hundred years. We were no bigger than he when we escaped. After that, sometime. And mostly in the last hundred. You’ll be mobile a while yet.”
“I want to grow.”
“What’s this? The power you have in Fangel isn’t enough for you?”
“I want to grow. I want to bring down the thky, ath you do. You have no idea what impertinenth I mutht put up with. They do not fear me ath they ought.”
“Tush, my boy. Nothing. Mere nothing. You have your city, your servants, your hunters. You have your warehouses full of creatures ready to come out and do your bidding when we empty the world of men! You have your army laid away for the coming day. You have a city full to come out and play at the sound of your gong. What more would a boy want? Ah?” And the monstrous face broke in a cavity of laughter, laughter that did bring rocks down upon their heads and made the Merchant dance back into the tunnels to escape being crushed. I was safe enough where I was, wondering if this madman was truly their son and, if so, how such a monstrous thing might have been accomplished.
“Enough,” snarled Storm Grower at last. “Be on your way out, my boy. Wait for the others at the entrance, they’ll not be long. We have one or two small items of business.”
The Oracle led him away, very silently for the Oracle, usually so full of quips and speeches. For a time the cavern was full of breathing noises, then the Oracle returned with the others. All of them.
“We have summoned you for a reason,” said Dream Miner in an insinuating whisper. “The time has come for one of our most-hoped-for projects to reach fruition. We must depend upon you for the next stage, but we know we can do so, for the rewards are great.”
“Let us talk of those rewards,” drawled the Duke. He was standing well back from the parapet, well out of reach. “They have not been inconsiderable in the past, but let us talk of them further.”
“Ahhh,” hissed Storm Grower. “Let us rather talk of punishments when our will is not done, for those are severe. I was limited in my range at one time, Betand. At one time I could bring storm only upon those places near to me. Then I began to grow, greater and more great. Over eighty years ago I began to reach out, and out, beyond this very world. It was I who tumbled a moonlet from the sky onto the Wastes of Bleer, I who wrecked Dindindaroo and all the lands between, foiling the works of Wizards and men. I am no longer limited in any way. As the disobedient people of Morp have found to their dismay. And those of Thorpe and Woeful. So will those of Betand, or of the High Demesne.”
“Tsk,” said the Oracle. “We need not speak of punishments, lady. These good people are eager to help you.”
“Hear us, then. In our caves here we have prepared a new crop of crystals. They are of a lovely amethyst color. Those who take them will be our slaves. They will find their way here, eager to do our will. It is our desire that they be widespread among the lands of the south. There are Demesnes there which we need to have under our sway. You will be our agents in this matter.”
“Where do
