dwarf-son Glambrax from being lynched by an irate public, for that pair had become notorious as commercial pirates. By their diligent commercialism, the two of them had first cornered the market in brewed acorns and roast rats; and by speculative enterprise they had then cornered the market in barley; and by virtue of owning the spoils of the autumn harvest they had made themselves masters of all the city's bakeries; and then had doubled the price of bread, then doubled it again.
Overcome by the success of their own folly, this pair of monopoly capitalists had then doubled the price of bread for one last and fatal time, and had been about to meet their mutual doom at the hands of a wrathful consuming public when rescued by Witchlord and Weaponmaster.
Having rescued this unrescueworthy pair, and having seized all barley in the city, and having given the wizards Zozimus and Sken-Pitilkin the responsibility for marketing both bread and barley at a fixed and reasonable price, and having thus won the love and affection of the people of Locontareth – or, more accurately, the subdued and potentially mutinous compliance of those people – the Witchlord and then Weaponmaster then settled themselves in that southern city, intending to gather their strength, and in the spring to attack Khmar and to reclaim the rule of the city of Gendormargensis and the Collosnon Empire as a whole.
But, of course, it was not going to be that easy.
Chapter Eighteen
Khmar: a warrior of Yarglat birth and breeding who took advantage of war between Witchlord and Weaponmaster to invade the Collosnon Empire from the north. Adroit in his timing, Khmar met no opposition from the capital's garrison, since most Yarglat feared and hated Bao Gahai, the dralkosh whom Lord Onosh had left in charge of the city. In the Witchlord's absence, few Yarglat hesitated before giving their loyalty to Khmar. So Khmar's conquest was virtually bloodless, whereas his enemies were already weary with war, their strength exhausted in the sanguinary encounters of the south.
As Witchlord and Weaponmaster settled in to Locontareth, they gave additional directions to the wizard Sken-Pitilkin, he whom they had earlier charged with a half-share of the responsibility for organizing the market in bread and barley. Sken-Pitilkin was now to exert himself over the winter and build them an airship.
'For,' said Guest Gulkan, 'when you tutored me in geography, you told me of volcanoes, those mountains which spit forth fire, and which let fall upon the heads of men those massive teardrops of rock which are known as bombs. It occurs to me that, had we an airship, we could let fall similar bombs upon the heads of our enemies.'
'Yes,' said Lord Onosh. 'Had we such a ship, we could defeat Khmar easily, by the sheer terror of the device if by no other means.'
'The terror, my lord,' said Sken-Pitilkin solemnly, 'is suffered most greatly by those poor mortals doomed to fly in such a ship. Having almost killed myself once, I am in no mood to repeat such an experiment.' Guest Gulkan was secretly of like opinion, but nevertheless favored the project, thinking he could easily avoid all personal involvement with experimental airships. Allied in their desire to rule the skies, Witchlord and Weaponmaster easily overruled Sken-Pitilkin's objections.
'I will give you any ship you want,' said Lord Onosh, 'and you will make it fly. You can have a barge, if you want, a barge taken fresh from the Yolantarath. Or – well, we have men from Stranagor in our forces, ships, fishing smacks, they build them all in Stranagor, and we can build likewise here. A ship which is apt for the fraughts of the Hauma Sea will surely be suitable for the skies.'
'Give me no ship,' said Sken-Pitilkin. 'Give me, rather, the roof of the ruling hall of Locontareth, and I will make a ship out of that.'
Thus spoke Sken-Pitilkin, hoping Lord Onosh would not want to sacrifice the roof of the ruling hall of Locontareth – that roof being a magnificent woodspan spread on which a thousand men could have been seated. By such stratagem, Sken-Pitilkin hoped to be spared from experiment.
'Do it,' said the Witchlord, thus proving himself no connoisseur of woodwork. 'Only make sure that it has the firm capacity to carry all my treasure chests.'
'Your treasure chests, my lord?' said Sken-Pitilkin blankly.
'Yes, my treasure chests!'Sken-Pitilkin was at first at a loss to know what treasure chests Lord Onosh was speaking of. So the Witchlord explained at laborious length, for he was proud of his treasure chests, which in his earlier days had more than once won him a crucial battles.
'For you see,' said Lord Onosh, 'when one army can pay its soldiers and the other cannot, gold will tip the scales when all else is equal.'
And in satisfaction of Sken-Pitilkin's curiosity, the Witchlord mapped out the movements of his treasure chests. Laden with gold, with silver, with massy bronze and trinkets of tin, the imperial strongboxes had marched from Gendormargensis with the imperial army – though, needless to say, they had not marched with any legs of their own, but had borrowed the legs of ponies for the purpose.
Traveling always under the personal vigilance of the emperor, those chests had traveled to Babaroth. In that town, the chests had waited in loyal expectation of an imperial victory; and, Lord Onosh having been proved triumphant in his battle over Guest Gulkan, the strongboxes had joined the methodical pursuit which had brought them as far as Locontareth.
The Witchlord had shortly discovered that Guest Gulkan had slipped round behind him. So, leaving the strongboxes in the city under guard – for their weight was incompatible with the drama of a quick pursuit – Lord Onosh had sallied forth treasureless to smash Guest Gulkan. Thus the treasure had not been in the Witchlord's possession when his own army had ultimately been smashed at the high pass of Volvo Marp; and had still been safely under guard in Locontareth when the Witchlord had returned to that city in alliance with the Weaponmaster.
Thus the story of the treasure chests; and if you think it a long story, and a weary one, and one quite unnecessary for the performance of this history, why, then blame not the poor historian. Blame rather a nitpicking tradition of jealous and intellectually impoverished scholarship which lacks the ability to appreciate the grandeur of a full-scale historical tapestry, and therefore devotes itself to picking loose any undefended thread at the corner of such a tapestry.
Having thus defended this particular thread, let us return to the sagacious Sken-Pitilkin.
We find him hot in dialog.
'But, my lord,' said Sken-Pitilkin, who was reluctant to guarantee any airship fit to carry a great weight of lead, gold, silver, bronze and trinketing tin, 'why should you want a weapon of terror to be able to carry your treasure chests?'
'Because,' said Lord Onosh, 'this weapon of terror is best to be a generalized weapon of war. So. Anything a horse can do, an airship must do likewise. That includes carrying treasure.
Besides, what if Khmar attacked us unexpectedly. What if we had to flee in haste? What then of our treasure?'
'My lord jests,' said Sken-Pitilkin, who had sufficient strategic wisdom to know that unexpected attack was out of the question, given the lateness of the season.
'I do not seriously expect attack,' said Lord Onosh, in frank confession. 'Nevertheless, I am of the Yarglat, hence may know more of the capacity of the breed than do you. Rule out nothing!
Rather, prepare for all eventualities. Therefore – make ready!'
As has now been reasoned out at length, Lord Onosh had his treasure chests with him in Locontareth, and insisted that Sken-Pitilkin's flying roof be engineered so as to accommodate those chests. And so, with Lord Onosh having agreed to sacrifice the roof of the ruling hall of Locontareth to experimental science, the sagacious Sken- Pitilkin found himself on top of that roof the very next day, surveying it in the company of carpenters.
'How,' said Sken-Pitilkin, 'did I get myself into a mess like this?'
And, not for the first time, the sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon wished that he had abandoned the practice of wizardry to become a slug-chef like Zozimus.
On inspection, the carpenters concluded that the roof could easily be disconnected from the walls beneath it, so that Sken-Pitilkin, at some time of his own choosing, could launch that roof in the skies.
