to strike down his enemies! Holy holy holy! Holy is the Cockroach!
Unholy are his enemies! They will burn! Their flesh with blister, will char, will crisp! The smoke of their burning will be as incense unto the nostrils of heaven!'
Much more in the same vein followed. To which Guest responded thus: 'You can and will defeat the forces of Nu-chala-nuth in a clash of war. But to defeat this religion in war will be to scatter it, for the refugees of war will carry it to every horizon. Once scattered, it is sown. As you sow, so shall you reap. I think to use a vicious war as an instrument to sow the seeds of Nu-chala-nuth broadcast through the world would be – in time! – to reap the whirlwind.'
'Brave rhetoric,' said Italis. 'But the rhetoric veers from the truths of your Yarglat birth, your Yarglat upbringing. The Yarglat say nothing of sowing and reaping. They are a nation of hunters, and you a hunter in the manner of your kind. For all your crop-planting rhetoric, I cannot imaginatively configure you as a farmer. For all your rhetoric, I cannot imagine you much concerned if Dalar ken Halvar were to run awash with blood and every person in Parengarenga be slaughtered by religious war.'
This was perceptive, though not uncommonly so.
In the course of his life, Guest Gulkan had not shown himself to be any great humanitarian. His true fear – which he had shared with Sken-Pitilkin, though he had no intention of sharing it with the demon Italis – was the dilution of his own authority.
Long exile, defeat and disappointment, combined with fear, suffering and grueling endurance tests of all descriptions, had hardened and strengthened the Weaponmaster's will to power. His ambitions had become focused on the overthrow of his enemies and the mastery of the Door. He had no wish to share such mastery with a priesthood in the service of the Cockroach, or with a Shabble; and he saw that a Conference of Demons allied to such a priesthood and to such a Shabble would find it the easiest thing in the world to push aside a mere Yarglat barbarian once he had outworn his use.
'Come,' said Italis, as Guest remained silent. 'My terms are surely reasonable. After all, you're offering me nothing, but I'm offering you the rule of the world.'
'Out of the goodness of your heart,' said Guest.
'I would choose you as my instrument rather than anyone else,' said Italis, 'for I know you better than I know any other.
I would rather give employment to an old friend than to a stranger. But you must understand that I speak of a whim. It's not, after all, as if you had anything I want.'
'On the contrary,' said Guest. 'We must have something you need, else you would not have bothered talking with us.'
'What, then?' said Italis. 'What is it you have that I need?'
'We have Sken-Pitilkin's power of flight,' said Guest. 'That and the yellow bottle, yes, and the ring which commands that bottle. In the bottle we can carry an army, and Sken-Pitilkin can fly it anywhere at will. With Shabble's strength combined with your own, and with that strength matched with the ability to ship an army by air, we can in combination bring the Bankers to their knees.'
'If we have to,' said Italis, 'then we can rule the Circle in our own right with assistance from Shabble alone.'
'Shabble is not reliable,' said Guest.
The Weaponmaster did not think that even demons such as Ko of Chi'ash-lan and Italis of Alozay could succeed in bending Shabble to their will on a permanent basis. True, it seemed that the demons had had Shabble as a prisoner for a year. Much could have been done in that time to make the bubble amenable to their discipline.
But, as Guest had learnt from the side-chatter of Untunchilamon, and from long conversations with Shabble itself, a thousand attempts at ruling Shabble had been made in the past, and all had come to disaster in the end. Shabble could not be permanently coerced by threats, promises, oaths, temptations, for Shabble was one of nature's born delinquents, and Shabble's only ultimate allegiance was to a creed of self-indulgent anarchy.
'Shabble might not prove permanently reliable,' conceded Italis, 'but a priesthood of the Cockroach would be. Us demons, we'd be the high priests. The rest follows naturally.'
'I will think about it,' said Guest.
And with that, the Weaponmaster withdrew.
There then followed a long and tense conference between Witchlord and Weaponmaster, with Sken-Pitilkin in attendance.
'We've faced this problem before,' said Lord Onosh.
They had indeed.
On fleeing Untunchilamon with Sken-Pitilkin and others,
Shabble had come to the island of Alozay, and had made a brieflived effort to install upon that island the rule of the Cult of Cockroach.
But Guest and Sken-Pitilkin had defeated such efforts by stealing the star-globe. Shabble had chased after the stolen star- globe, and, on venturing to the island of Drum in pursuit of it, had been captured by certain wizards of the Confederation who had long maintained a vigil there, hoping for Sken-Pitilkin to fall to their snares.
'That net thing,' said Guest Gulkan, referring to the silver net with which the wizards of the Confederation had restrained Shabble. 'How did that work?'
'I've no idea,' said Sken-Pitilkin. 'But most things of wizard make can be destroyed by application of brute force, if the force is sufficient. We must assume that the prodigious strength of the demon Ko would surely have been adequate to destroy that net and liberate the Shining One for flamethrowing, regardless of the make of that net.'
'So,' said Lord Onosh, 'if the demons have truly suborned Shabble to their service, if only temporarily, then they may send the bubble against us to coerce us to their service.'
'That is a strong probability,' said Sken-Pitilkin.
'Then,' said Lord Onosh, 'we must seek to apply the same remedy that we applied before. We must send the star-globe away from here so that the Circle of the Doors remains closed. Once deprived of all possibility of playing with these toys, Shabble may well seek amusement elsewhere.'
'Shabble may well,' said Sken-Pitilkin.
'But,' said Guest, dismayed at the prospect of further exile, further wandering, further hazard and suffering, 'this will take years!'
'What alternative is there?' said Lord Onosh. 'I am no wizard, and I have not wandered the world as widely as you have, but I think I know enough of Italis and such similar demons to know that they cannot in any way be trusted.'
With Guest coming to reluctant agreement, preparations were made for the Weaponmaster to depart once more with his tutelary wizard. Thayer Levant agreed – with some considerable reluctance – to accompany the Weaponmaster once again. The yellow bottle was heavily provisioned. The demon Italis was placed under interdict once more, with the doors to the Hall of Time being sealed and guarded. Sken-Pitilkin took charge of the star- globe.
All these arrangements took no more than the length of a day.
And, on an evening of fog and low cloud, Guest and Sken-Pitilkin took to the skies, accompanied by a somewhat surly Levant.
They had flown no great distance from Alozay when the darkening mists behind them were torn apart by rupturing fire.
Either a dragon was assailing Alozay, or else the mainrock
Pinnacle was coming under attack from a very, very angry Shabble.
'We got away only just in time,' said Guest, soberly.
'We are not away yet,' said Sken-Pitilkin, 'for we have yet to reach a place of refuge.'
And, with that, the wizard of Skatzabratzumon guided his stickbird through the night, wondering just how much damage Shabble might have done on Alozay, and just how much more damage Shabble might do in the future, and what manner of place might give the refugees some kind of reliable sanctuary.
