This was an emergency. And all were helpless in the face of that emergency. But for Sken-Pitilkin!
The sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon lacked the power to send any foreign body hop-skipping over the demon's head. For his powers were subject to the laws of leverage, viciously restrictive laws which made it difficult for any wizard of Skatzabratzumon to support a weight at a distance.
But – there was himself! Sken-Pitilkin could levitate himself without losing anything to the laws of leverage.
In the first flush of the possession of Powers, every fresh- made wizard of the order of Skatzabratzumon inevitably tries his hand at auto-levitation, that process which the unwashed peasantry vulgarly refers to as 'flying'. With equal inevitability, such a wizard soon knocks himself out against a ceiling, or the roof of a cave, or the eaves of a house, or a branch of a tree – thereby learning the virtues of dignity.
However – this was a crisis! Sken-Pitilkin raised his country crook and shouted a Word.
He began to float upwards.
Lord Onosh roared with shocked surprise – roared so loud that Banker Sod turned in alarm. What Sod saw alarmed him even more.
His jaw dropped as he gaped in horror-struck amazement. The jadegreen demon lashed at Sken-Pitilkin, whipping the air to a frenzy with its tentacles.
Serenely unperturbed, Sken-Pitilkin floated overhead, just a hair away from the demon's lashwork. Sod started to back away as Sken-Pitilkin drifted towards him.
'Keep back!' said Sod, menacing Sken-Pitilkin with his sword.
At which, Sken-Pitilkin was tempted beyond endurance, and essayed that supremely difficult feat known to the initiated as the Reversed Looped Power Transfer, whereby levitational force is swapped from one object to another with the speed of a quick- blinking eye, with one object being forced upwards while the other sinks. Sken-Pitilkin levitated Sod's sword while simultaneously causing himself to sink. But Sod held grimly to his weapon, and so was dragged upward.
Neatly, Sken-Pitilkin touched down. Simultaneously, he ceased his Reversed Looped Power Transference. Deprived of levitational energies, Sod's sword fell. Not surprisingly, Sod fell with it. As Sod fell, Sken-Pitilkin whacked him with his country crook.
'Bravo!' cried Lord Onosh.
Sod hit the tiles. Inspired by the enthusiasms of battle, Sken-Pitilkin whacked him again.
'Enough!' shouted Lord Onosh, seriously alarmed. 'No! No! We need him! He's our hostage!'
But Sken-Pitilkin, who had no taste for dueling, went on whacking until he was quite sure that Sod was unbattleworthy, and would remain so for some considerable time to come.
As Guest and Glambrax got groggily to their feet, Lord Onosh whooped with jubilation. But, for his part, Sken- Pitilkin was far from being elated. True, the Witchlord's son had been freed from the demon's grasp, but that was a trivial and temporary victory.
Witchlord and Weaponmaster remained besieged in the uppermost parts of the mainrock Pinnacle, outnumbered by the Guardians who assailed their position from below, and meagerly provisioned (if they were provisioned at all).
'Well,' said Guest, endeavoring to sound undaunted and doughty. 'The next thing is to explore upstairs.'
So saying, the Weaponmaster endeavored to climb the stairs in question, and promptly tottered and fell over. Sken-Pitilkin counseled Guest Gulkan to rest.
'You stay here,' said Sken-Pitilkin. 'Glambrax and I will go upstairs, taking Sod as our prisoner.'
'But why?' said Guest.
'Because he is a danger to us here at the feet of the demon,' said Sken-Pitilkin. 'For one moment's lapse in caution could see Sod act in league with that demon to ensure our destruction. We'll take him above, and bind him. You stay here. Stay and rest.'
With that, the wizard Sken-Pitilkin and the dwarf Glambrax secured Sod and dragged the groaning Banker upstairs, leaving Guest alone on the stairs near the feet of the demon.
As there was no way for the Weaponmaster to join his father the Witchlord – since the demon would surely have killed him or captured him had he essayed the passage past its greenblock heights – father and son could but exchange verbal tokens of their love and their mutual concern.
Then, realizing his helplessness – for the power of his wizards was exhausted, and the power of his warriors was a nullity in the face of the strength of the demon Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis – Lord Onosh made his excuses and withdrew. For he saw it as being his duty to go to the down-leading stairway to fight shoulder-to- shoulder with those of his men who were guarding that stairway against the assaults of the Guardians.
That left Guest alone, quite alone, utterly alone in the presence of the cold and unwavering green-burning light of the demon. Guest sat on the steps, counting his bruises, and feeling quite sorry for himself. He had been hideously terrified by the demon, which had chewed up Hrothgar, which had splattered him with blood, which had held him prisoner with its invincible strength, and which hurled him at Glambrax.
And he felt abandoned. Sken-Pitilkin had left him, and his father too. With good reason, doubtless. But even so. Guest felt uncommonly vulnerable, and forlorn.
With some considerable resentment, Guest gazed upon the maneating jade-green monolith which he knew as Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, Demon By Appointment to the Great God Jocasta.
'I thought you'd help me,' said Guest, feeling that he had to vent his resentment, even though he did not necessarily expect a reply. 'You told me I could be made a wizard. For questing, I mean. A reward. I was to quest to the Temple of Blood in the city of Obooloo. I was to rescue the Great God, the Great God Jocasta.
Stogirov, wasn't it? Yes, that was it. The evil Stogirov holds the Great God Jocasta as a prisoner in the Temple of Blood in the city of Obooloo. You see? I remember perfectly.'Guest paused.
In response, the demon displayed the image of a head: a human head, dark-haired and bloodless, the eyes sucked out from the sockets and the ears eaten away from the skull. As this delusional image slowly revolved, the brute at last consented to speak.
'Thus you will end,' said Iva-Italis. 'You will end thus, for you have displeased me.'
'A geek,' said Guest Gulkan, mastering scorn to his tongue.
'I beg your pardon?' said Iva-Italis.
'A geek.'
'I know not that word. Explain yourself.'
'I was explaining you,' said Guest Gulkan. 'You're a geek. A thing which rips the heads off chickens for the joy of drunkards and the entertainment of whores.'
Though Guest Gulkan spoke thus with scorn, it must be admitted that in truth the young Weaponmaster himself was not averse to occasional indulgence in the squaloring entertainments devised and enacted by geeks.
'So,' said Iva-Italis, 'it thinks to insult me.'
'Why not?' said Guest. 'For you are a mere demon. I am a hero, and as such I deal with none less than other heroes, or with the gods themselves. I have it in mind to speak to your own Great God, to Jocasta – though your mediumship.'
'You would, would you?' said Iva-Italis. 'To what end?'
'To make a bargain,' said Guest. 'When I was here last, that same Great God was of the opinion that it wished to be released from Obooloo. If I can bargain to my advantage today, then I will pledge myself to its rescue.'
'You have come too late,' said Iva-Italis.
'Too late!' said Guest.
'Do you think it is a pleasure for me to wait here at your convenience?' said Iva-Italis in fury. 'You were offered the opportunity to quest in the service of the Great God. But did you so quest? No! You went whoring after the devices of your own heart. A god commanded you! But you paid that god no heed. No. It was your own squaloring wars which held your concern. But you lost. You were defeated. Don't deny it! So in defeat your thought yourself of the Great God Jocasta. Are we supposed to be honored?
Are we supposed to be honored at being the last and least of all your choices?'Guest found it hard to answer this scathing anger, for the plain and simple truth was that the anger was well-founded. Still, he was in no mood for apologies.
'I will make no excuses,' said Guest boldly. 'Still, I can make amends. If we can make a bargain, you and I,
