EMISSARIES AND SOLICITORS ALL BEGGING AND PLEADING AND WANTING HANDOUTS AND FILING PETITIONS AND CURRYING FAVOR AND FAWNING OBSEQUIOUSLY * DAY AFTER DAY AFTER ENDLESS DAY THIS INTERMINABLE PARADE OF WHINING COMPLAINING BEGGARS PULING ABOUT THEIR PERSONAL PROBLEMS THEIR LEGAL ENTANGLEMENTS AND THEIR PETTY CONCERNS * NOT QUITE THE LIFE YOU IMAGINED IS IT * AND I SUPPOSE YOU THINK HAVING A FEW DOZEN WIVES AND CONCUBINES MAKES UP FOR IT * DISABUSE YOURSELF OF THIS NOTION AS WELL MY GHOULISH FRIEND FOR YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT UTTER UNREMITTING HELL IT IS TO HAVE MORE THAN THE ONE WIFE THE GODS IN THEIR INFINITE MERCY NATURALLY INTENDED A MAN TO HAVE * SIMPLY TAKE ALL THE HENPECKS OF ONE HARRIDAN OF A SPOUSE AND MULTIPLY THEM BY
'Enough!' Rance cried in disgust. He stalked back to the antechamber.
Sighing, he put the lantern down. At least the curse wasn't death. In any case, he would not let a curse deter him now. He did not look forward to chiseling, chipping, and hammering through limestone, but times were hard, and this was the only work he could get. He fetched his sledgehammer and returned to examine the inner door. He knocked a scarred knuckle against it and was surprised. The hollow echo told him that it wasn't a solid metal door, as he had first thought. It was probably wood in a cladding of metal. He wouldn't have to break through the wall after all. He'd make short work of the door.
Don't even think of it.
The thought came unbidden into his mind, and he soon realized it was a voice.
That's right. This place is forbidden to you. Begone! He stiffened, then slowly exhaled.
'Your warning only entices me.'
Be twice warned, then. You will enter in the flesh, but leave in the spirit.
'A spirit is what I assume you are.'
Brilliant deduction. Now, go.
He spit on his hands and grasped the haft of the hammer. Something bothered him about this. It wasn't a proper door for a tomb, not the usual thing. The ancient Zinites built sturdy tombs employing layers of protective measures, some physical, others magical, and he hadn't encountered any unpleasant magic so far-besides the curse, that is.
From the shadows behind him came the scrape of stone on stone. He froze for a moment, hammer poised to strike. Then he whirled, dropping the hammer, and drew his sword.
The lid to the upright sarcophagus fell forward and slammed to the floor.
The sarcophagus was empty.
Rance sighed and lowered the hammer.
Gave you a scare, did it?
'Your humor eludes me. Just who are you, by the way?'
I am the august monarch for whom this many-times-violated tomb was built. And I think it was damned clever.
Rance gave a crooked smile. 'No doubt you have the right.'
So you think that door is easy prey, do you?
'Something tells me it is not.'
It will yield like dry kindling. Try it!
He turned and regarded the barrier. He read the curse again.
There came a chuckle. Makes you think twice, and then some, doesn't it?
'It does, yes. But it makes me think that something of value lies within.'
Laughter. It stands to reason! Who would waste such potent power on baubles or some marble bust or another? Some effigy of a long forgotten potentate-one, say, of your humble host.
'Perhaps you would. Where are your mortal remains?'
Gone to dust ages ago. Stripped of every jewel and trampled underfoot by tomb robbers. My bones splintered! My countenance smashed-!… I beg your forgiveness. Indulge me.
'By all means, go on.'
Suffice it to say my elements have long been commingled with those of the universe. But let's get to business. Why not have a crack at that door?
Rance eyed the empty coffin askance. 'You seem strangely eager.'
Then you're afraid. The curse deters you, as it did all the others. I fear it is my lot to wait for someone with suflicient mettle.
'Hold on, I haven't yet made my decision.'
The voice took time to size him up. No, not you.
'Eh? Why not?'
You're an odd-looking sort. Dark-complected, longfaced. And a long nose, too. It emphasizes a weak chin, a sure sign of pusillanimity.
Rance smiled. 'Your taunts won't goad me. But I will take a crack at your door. The truth is I'm desperately in need of booty.'
Splendid! Finally someone with suffcient courage. You have my profound admiration and deepest sympathy.
Rance halted a motion to lift the hammer. 'How's that?'
The curse, man, the curse! Have its implications somehow eluded you?
'No, but in my own particular case, my fortunes could not go more awry.'
Down on your luck? You have the look of degenerate nobility about you. Land poor? Too bad. But your luck can and will get worse. This I will warrant.
'Spirit, I detect a note of glee.'
Academic interest only. You will admit I have little to occupy my time.
'Is this truly, then, what death is?'
My punishment, I think.
'You're not certain?'
The uncertainty is surely part of the punishment.
He nodded, picked up the sledge, and slammed at the door.
The barrier came down in no time. Within lay darkness. He picked up the lantern and peered in. It was a thick, almost tangible darkness that seemed to drink up light.
Afraid?
'Of course, damn you. What fiendish delights have you planned for me?'
Fiend I am none. Would that I were! Demons are powerful. Alas, I am but a soul lost.
'Lost and by the wind mourned, Ghost, begone! You bother me.'
He stepped into the chamber. Something crunched underfoot.
The darkness seemed to recede. He caught the glint of smiling teeth, a death rictus. Then another. Then piles of skulls, and bones….
He turned to go but it was too late. The real door-a mammoth slab of finely dressed limestone-banged down before he could barely move. Darkness adamantine fell.
Hear that?
He could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart.
That is the drip of water from a cistern. You will not die of thirst. You will, however, die slowly of starvation. You might be able to catch a dung beetle now and then. You may perhaps find a thigh bone to gnaw on. But you will eventually starve in here. Do wish me to describe the sensations of such a slow dying?
He kicked bones out of the way, found a spot to sit, and did.
'Doubtless I can't stop you. Please begin.'
A willing victim! Hmm. I'm not sure I like that. Anyway, first come the unbearable cravings…
CHAPTER SIX
