paged through it and found the passage. He read.
And there shall come a time when men shall quake and tremble, and great tribulation shall befall the world, as in the days of antiquity, so shall it be on that fearful day, and he shall be unleashed who is hight the Great Beast, the Evil One, the Destroyer, and he shall darken the sun and spread his great wings against the wind, and it shall be visited upon the sons of men as it was visited upon their fathers, that they will flee and hide their heads and curse the day their mothers bore them.…
Osmirik shook his head. And shall he, a mere scribe, stand alone against the ineluctable Word? His heart sank, and he knew he could not. But he must try. His eyes again fell to the page.
Clumsy literalism, he noted. Better,
… and there shall be one in those days, a true son of his father, Ervoldt, by whose might the beast may again be chained, but his troubles shall be great, and his heart will be heavy; neither will his house stand against the storm. His name shall be as blood.
Ervoldt, the ancient Haplodite chieftain of legend, who tamed the demons of the earth and made them do his bidding. Osmirik reached for another volume, paged through till he came to the passage he had marked earlier:
… and Ervoldt did all these things, and in the manner in which I have told them. And also did he magick the greatest of the beasts, Ramthonodox, and it was in this wise: he did [text missing] his freehold and his fortress, arid [its] windows were numbered one hundred and forty-four thousand, and of [its] rooms there were no end.
He unspooled
… and he did so in this wise: he did bespell the great beast, which was a demon, and tamed its wiles, and chained this beast to a great Stone, and wrought he a change such that it no longer took the aspect of a beast, but became a great house, which Ervoldt did make his freehold and his fortress …
A third variant in yet another decaying book read much the same way. He dug the volume out and opened it — then closed the cover slowly. No, he would not go over it again. There was no mistake. He leaned back in the creaking wooden chair again.
…
Better,
His name shall be Incarnadine.
Suddenly, the floor began to vibrate. A faint high-pitched note sounded, accompanied by a deep rumbling. The nearby bookshelves rocked, and one small volume dislodged itself and fell.
Slowly the sounds dissipated. Finally, it was quiet.
Osmirik wondered. Melydia already at work? Incarnadine, perhaps. Or something else entirely. Likely the castle itself undergoing one of its sundry transformations.
He rose and moved to the stairwell, descended, then crossed through the open stacks. Stepping through the anteroom, he opened the door, peered up and down the corridor, went out and closed the door behind him. He had to get his bearings. He now sought the Spell Stone, as did Melydia, but she had her ways and he had his. He sniffed the air. Books, still books — but many other things besides. What would the Stone “smell” like?
A primordial smell, the dust of ages, the sulfurous smell of the fires that gave birth to the Cosmos itself …
He had it. There were two overriding “odors” to this place, and they seemed to emanate from the same location. He strode off toward it.
The Hall Of The Brain
“Kwip, wake up.Are you okay?”
Kwip’s eyes fluttered, then opened. He saw Linda’s face.
“I’m not in Hell, then?”
“Hell, no,” he heard Gene say.
He sat up and looked about. Jacoby was eyeing him suspiciously.
“What happened?” Kwip asked.
“We were going to ask you that,” Gene said.
Snowclaw dug a finger in his left ear. “My darn ears are still ringing.”
“I think I’m going to be deaf for the rest of my life,” Linda said.
“Huh?” Gene said.
“I said, I think I’m going to be …Oh, be quiet.”
Kwip got unsteadily to his feet. “I’m mystified,” he said. “I’d fetched my rucksack and was walking out again when I heard a hellish din.”
“It came from this chamber,” Gene said. “It was unbearable where we were. I can’t imagine what it was like here.”
“Aye. Fell into a swoon, I did. Thought I was dying.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Aside from feeling a mite shaken, I think not.”
Gene pointed to the jewel. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but did you screw around with that thing?”
“I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
“What was the idea with the pickax?”
“I thought it would be useful in climbing the rock. You seemed to have a bit of trouble up toward the top. But then I lost heart and put the thing in my rucksack to keep against an hour of need.”
Gene shrugged. “Okay. As I said, it’s probably none of my business.”
“No offense taken,” Kwip said with a forced smile.
“Yeah. Well, if you’re okay, the first thing we have to do is —”
“Gene, look.”
“Huh?” Gene saw Linda pointing toward the door and spun around. About a half-dozen helmeted soldiers were already through the entrance, swords drawn. They weren’t castle Guardsmen.
Kwip drew his shortsword and backed off. Gene unsheathed his broadsword and did the same, while Snowclaw advanced casually toward the edge of the circular stone floor.
“There’s only a couple of ’em,” Snowclaw said, beckoning. “C’mon, guys.”
Gene and Kwip exchanged glances, then stopped their retreat. Linda and Jacoby ran to get behind them.
The soldiers had seen Snowclaw immediately, but were only now appreciating how big he was.
“Whattayasay, soldier boys?” Snowclaw called. “How’s the chow in the army these days?”
That slowed them up. One of them, presumably the leader, spoke.
“You! Whoever or whatever you are, put down your weapon!”
“Can’t hear you,” Snowclaw said. “Come closer.”
The soldier advanced. “I said —”
Snowclaw took a wicked practice cut. The broadax whistled through the still air. “What, this thing? I use it to cut my nails. Need yours trimmed?”
Four of them reached bottom and fanned out. The leader and another soldier approached slowly.
“All of you! Put down your weapons. Now!”
“By what authority do you order us about?” Jacoby protested.
“By the grace of His Royal Highness Vorn, Prince and Heir Apparent to the Siege of Hunra, Son of the Goddess-Empress, and Conqueror of the Western Dominions. You are his prisoners.”
“Don’t be silly,” Snowclaw said. “You can’t take us prisoner.”
The leader stopped. “Eh? Why not?”
“ ’Cause you gonna die, hairless.
