“Then farewell!” And with that they set sail for Celephais.
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A week later they made report to Kuranes at his Cornish manor-house in Celephais, and a month after that he called them to him with some news. There had been a mass uprising in Inquanok: the false temple there had been destroyed until no two stones stood one atop the other, its “priests” were wiped out to a manâor thing. A simultaneous attack on the Veiled King's palace had proven singularly monstrous: eleven good strong men had died before the Veiled King succumbed, and even then the horror had had to be burned. Beneath the palace and temple a veritable nest of maggots had been discovered, with endless labyrinthine tunnels and halls
whose purposes ⦠but here Kuranes refused to go into detail. And the questers did not press him.
Now, however, he could tell them that their intervention had been a grand success in more ways than they'd previously suspected. Augeren was dead for one thing, and that had been their original objective; but more than that, the rule of immemorial successions of Veiled Kings was at an end, and their priest minions exposed for the sub-human monsters they were. The new government of Inquanok, headed by one Heger Nort, was already changing the twilight land's laws: there were courts now, and a proper judiciary system. No more men, whatever their crimes, would be sent north naked as babes to test the terrors of the gaunt gray peaks. As for priestsâlegitimate priests, that isâwell, there were many temples and so many priests, but a new law in Inquanok said priests would go bareheaded and with shaven pates, and their limbs would be plainly visible at all times.
Even this was not the end of the matter. Heger Nort was talking of organizing a punitive expedition into the underworld, and had asked for Kuranes' help. Specifically, he had stated that if a certain pair of questersâ
Which was the point at which Hero and Eldin bade the Lord of Ooth-Nargai good day, and left his manor house with something less than customary decorum.
Now heading, in the twilight of evening, for a favored tavern on the waterfront, they breathed easier, and Hero uncharacteristically opined: “Bollocks!”
“Lot's of 'em,” Eldin agreed.
“Not for a king's ransom!” Hero spat out the words.
“And certainly not for a Veiled King's ransom,” said Eldin less vehemently.
“That's one quest I'm well and truly
finished
with!”
Hero declared. “I don't even want reminding of it, not ever!”
“Exceptâ” said Eldin.
“Not ever!”
“But you still haven't told me about my name!”
“Your name?” Hero looked taken aback. “Old duffer, d'you mean?”
The Wanderer snorted like a horse. “How old are you, lad?”
“Eh? My age? Dunno, exactly. Thirty-odd, I suppose. Maybe thirty-two. Why?”
“Because if you want to make thirty-three, watch your lip!” said Eldin “But you
know
what I meanâand you'll listen to me
and
answer me even if I have to tie you down first! Back in Inquanok, when we were dissecting Augeren's name, which as it happens was pretty descriptive of the beast himself, you saidâ”
“âI said I remembered
your
name's meaning from some old book in the waking world,” Hero cut in. “Yes, I know. But try as I mightâand I have tried, hardâit's gone. I've forgotten it. You know how it is with these flashes from the waking world?”
“Hmm!” Eldin rumbled, plainly disappointed. He caught Hero's elbow and drew him to a halt on the threshold of the tavern. “Forgotten, have you? Now that couldn't simply be a case of convenient amnesia, could it?”
“I swear I've forgotten!” Hero protested. “But if ever I re-remember ⦔ And to himself:
Better if you don't know, old lad. Better far.
For Hero remembered Eldin's love of a good warm fire to sit by, the way he always looked lovingly into the flamesâand the fact that he invariably kept a pair of flints, his “lucky firestones,” close to handâand the way he'd once burned Thalarion the evil hive city to the ground, not to mention a certain
tightwad inn! And he also remembered how the Wanderer had blinded Augeren â¦
Oh, yes, a fire sign, Eldin, without a doubt. But letting him know it would be like blowing on embers, wouldn't it?
“Anyway, the hell with it!” said the Wanderer. “There's booze for the buying and my throat's afire.” He held open the tavern's swing door and inclined his head. “Shall we?”
“By all means,” said Hero, “let's douse the flames. In fact, let's damn well drown 'em!”
And passing in, they let the door swing shut behind them on a perfect night in dreamland â¦
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End note
eldin, elding:
One or that of fiery disposition;
a firebrand; fuel for a fire. Arch:
eilding, eldr, fire.
Old Scots Dictionary
One of those perfect summer days, in fact. With the sun searing the sky until it drips down in shades of blue melt and merges with the sea; and the occasional fish leaping almost as if the water were too warm for him, leaving slowly fading ripples; and a solitary cloud, like a dab of cotton wool, drifting almost lonely over the central peaks of the Isle of Oriab in the Southern Sea. In the little villages flanking the seaport Baharna, nets would be drying in the sun, evening meals being given consideration, donkeys standing in whatever shade they could find, and nobodyâ
nobody
doing anything much.
Neither were Hero and Eldin.
They had vented flotation essence, come down out of the sky and dropped anchor off a tiny uninhabited knob of rock, the peak of some mountain of which the main range formed Oriab, and here as afternoon crept toward evening they'd got out their lines and were now hard at it, fishing. Except “hard at it” probably paints the wrong picture. Later, tonight, they might well be “hard at it,” but that's a different story.
They lay, each with his back to the low structure forming the cabin, Eldin to port and Hero to starboard,
with legs bent at the knees and feet scarce projecting over the sides.
Quester
was a small sky-yacht and her masters were big men. Both were naked from the waist up, bare-footed, lines tied to their big toes. They were brown as berries, quietly simmering, content as any pair of dreamers could be. Almost. But when Eldin felt sleepy and contented, Hero usually, had something on his mind, and when Hero was feeling all at one with the dreamlands, then Eldin would be astir.
In fact he was astir now, inside his head, anyway.
“I had an odd dream last night,” he said, breaking a long hot silence, his deep voice drifting lazily over the top of the cabin-cum-galley and settling like a soft lasso over Hero's mind.
Hero said nothing, concentrated on his toe, which hadn't twitched in a half-hour. The fish seemed too idle to bite. He didn't blame them.
“I'll tell you about it later,” said Eldin.
“Oh, good!” Hero returned. “I'll look forward to that.”
“It's been on my mind, that's all. In fact, sev'ral things have been on my mind.”
“What, all at once?” said Hero. “Braggart!”
“Like, f'rinstance”âEldin ignored his sarcasmâ“Inquanok
Hero sighed. “How many times do I have to say it?” he asked, bad memories returning in a flood. “Man, I'm still trying to
forget
Inquanok!”
“No, no,
no
!” Eldin protested. “I'm not talking about what happened there. It's a word-game I've been playing, that's all. A mental diversion.”
“Oh?” Hero was dubious. “Look, tonight we're dining with Ula and Una in Bahama. Afterward ⦠well, won't that be diversion enough?”
“Purely physical!” said Eldin at once. “But this ⦠brain food!”
Hero snorted. “All right,” he said, “I'll fall for it. What are you raving on about?”
“Tell me,” said Eldin: “what would you call the men of Inquanok?”
“Idiots!” Hero replied. “Before our firstâand lastâvisit there, anyway. Since then, not quite so daft.”
“No, no,
no
!” Eldin was getting repetitious. “I mean their actual name, as a race. Like a man of Dylath-Leen is a Dylath-Leener, and the men of Serannian are Serannionians.”
“And a man of Celephais is a Celephasian, and dwellers in Ilek-Vad are Ilek-Vadians?”
“Exactly!” said Eldin. “So what's a man of Inquanok called, eh?”
“Never thought about it,” said Hero.
“So think.”
Unseen, on the other side of the cabin, Hero shrugged. “An Inquaknocker, I suppose.”
“Eh?” said Eldin. “A bit sexist, that, isn't it? I meant the people of Inquanok as a whole, not just the girls.”
Hero couldn't repress a grin. “Then I suppose that rules out Inquaknackers, too, eh? What about Inquanauts?”
“They're not
all
seafarers!” Eldin protested. “Me, I've reached a decision. From now on I call 'em Inqublots.”
“Good!” said Hero. “Anything for peace and quiet, that's what I always say ⦔
There was silence for two full minutes. Then:
“Dreams,” said Eldin. (Hero groaned inwardly.) “Do you believe in 'em?”
“Now there's a silly bloody question if ever I heard one!” Hero burst out after a moment's thought. “What?
Here's us, dreamers, adrift in the land of Earth's dreams, and you ask me if I believe in 'em? I mean, should I say no, and then express mild surprise when our boat turns to mist, and you and I gradually fade out, and the entire scene turns to shimmering dust-motes and leaves our shrieking, shrinking ids to wander in eternal oblivion?”
“That's a bit strong!” muttered Eldin. “What's more, it's not what I meant. I meant do you believe that dreams are prophetic?”
Hero frowned, jerked his toe as his line went taut, scowled as it immediately slackened. “What's on your mind?” he asked.
“Dreams are,” said Eldin. “I mean, they're damned queer things, dreams. There we were, presumably, dreamers in the waking world, fashioning dreams like mad, never believing for a moment that they were real, with people living in 'em and stuff! Then one day we died, I suppose, and came here. And here, what do we do but dream! At least I do, and damned strange ones at that. Soâif you see what I'm getting atâI find the whole thing quite fascinating. I mean, they go inward and outward, probably for ever.”
“Eh? Inward and outward?”
“What I'm asking is this,” said Eldin. “When we were in the waking world, was somebody on some higher plane dreaming
us
?”
“Ah!” said Hero. “And someone higher still dreaming him, d'you mean? And do the dreams we dream now give life to some ulterior world? Like sitting in a barber's chair where there's a mirror fore and one aft, so that you see yourself seeing yourself seeingâ”
“Yes!” said Eldin excitedly.
“Or the world as an atom of some greater world, the macrocosm, and every atom of the world a universe in
its own right, composed of even smaller universes. Inward and outward.”
“Yes, yes!”
“Or two bees looking at each other, reflected in each other's myriad-faceted eyes, and each facet's facets repeating a myriad bee ogles, andâ”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Eldin was ecstatic.
“Shouldn't think so,” said Hero.
Eldin got a bite and gave his toe a massive jerk. Hero, too, and likewise.
“Well, it's my belief that they
are
prophetic,” said Eldin. “Especially the one I had last night.” He hauled on his line.
On the other side of the boat Hero had his own fight going. “Lord, have I got a fish here!” he cried.
“A sprat compared to mine!” Eldin's voice was high with excitement.
Hero leaned forward, caught up his line and gave it a steady pull terminating in a yankâand the fish yanked back! It yanked hard. He was hauled upright, flew forward, nearly shot over the side before he could get his balance. Then, as he felt the line tighten againâ
âHe threw himself flat, face down and head over the side, legs stretched along the gunnelâand had no sooner assumed that position than he heard Eldin's cry of outrage as
his
line went slack and
his
head cracked against the cabin's planking.
“Ow!” said the Wanderer. “But this is a fish with fight in him!”
Hero scowled thoughtfully, tugged tentatively at his line, andâ
“There he goes again!” yelled Eldin.
“Whoa!”
Hero cried in something of desperation as the other hauled.
“Eh?” Eldin suspected that the
whoa
had been directed
at him. “What? I should desist? Are you joking? But this is a
big
bugger!”
“Too true, he is,” Hero readily agreed. “And if you don't stop hauling on that line of yours you're going to
pull his bloody toe oft!
”
There was a long, awkward silence; then they cut their tangled lines and watched them slowly sink, and at last climbed to their feet to confront each otherâfinally collapsing in tears of laughter on the deck. They'd earlier lowered a bottle of wine by its neck into the water; now they brought it up, drew the cork, took long pulls. And:
“Ah, well,” Hero sighed after a while. “I suppose it's up-anchor and heigh-ho forâ”
There came a flapping of roseate wings and a stir of air as a pink temple pigeon rotated and braced himself for a landing on the cabin's roof. Tied to his leg, a tiny silver cylinder with a cork stopper. Eldin scooped the bird up as soon as it landed, untied the message cylinder, took out the stopper. He began to slide out the tight-rolled scrap of paper curled within, but Hero stopped him.
“Hang on,” said the younger quester. “Not so fast. You know what'll happen if we read that, don't you?”
Eldin raised his eyebrows, looked over his shoulder, said: “Who, me? Am I clairvoyant or something? How should I know what will happen if weâ?”
“But you do, you do!” Hero cut him short, taking the cylinder from him. “This bird's from Ulthar or Celephais, Serannian or Ilek-Vad. From Kuranes or Atal or some other person of their estimable ilk. And it carries a summons, a command, most likely a questâfor us!”
“So? But that's how we earn a living, isn't it? We
are
questers, aren't we?”
“Not tonight, we're not!” Hero denied it. He drew out the tiny curl of paper, dropped it carelessly over the side of the boat.
“What?
What?
” Eldin went wide-eyed. “But that's ⦠that's ⦔
“It's very sensible,” said Hero. “If it was important there'll be another bird tomorrow. If it was
very
important there'll probably be two.” He took out a scrap of paper and a sharp shard of charcoal from his pocket (he wrote the occasional line of poetry, much to Eldin's disgust) and scribbled: “Sorry, message dropped overboard by fumbling, drunken elder quester before it could be read. Please repeat instructions.” Then he quickly rolled it up, inserted it into the cylinder and recorked it, tied it to the patient bird's leg.
“What did you write?” Eldin queried as the bird soared aloft.
“Told himâwhoeverâthat you were drunk and dropped it overboard,” said Hero.
“Oh!” said Eldin, nodding affably. And a moment later: “Eh? You did
what?
”
Hero held up placating hands. “This squares it for your lapse,” he explained.
“What lapse?”
“We had a choice,” said Hero. “In three months' timeâ
if
Ula and Una still wanted to see us thenâyou'd have to explain how you messed up tonight by reading that message and going off a-questing instead of a-whatevering. Or tonight you can tell 'em how you saved the dayâor nightâby dint of your quick-wittedness. I simply assumed you'd prefer the second option.”
Eldin thought it over. “Well that's damned decent of you!” he eventually remarked. “Your logic's a bit lopsided,
for which I'll probably clout you later, but for now ⦠did you have to say I was drunk?”
Hero sighed patiently. “Of course!” he said. “I mean, what sort of idiot would commit such an enormity sober, eh?” He went below, started up the flotation engine.
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Later, airborne and dripping water from their keel as they climbed skyward and turned for Oriab, Eldin said: “Anyway, it gives me a chance to check out my dream theory: that they're prophetic, that is. See, this dream of mine took place in Bahama, in Lippy Unth's place, the
Craven Lobster
. We were in there, having a drink, when who should I spot but the seer with invisible eyes.”
“Oh!” said Hero. “Him again. You've told me about him before: you look into his eyes and see nothing. You see their rimsâcraters on each side of his noseâbut nothing in 'em. The spaces between the stars, empty voids, nothingness.”
“The same,” said Eldin, nodding. “Anyway, we went over to speak to him and he looked at us sort of funny.”
“With his invisible eyes?” said Hero.
“Right. And thenâ”
“Well?”
“He fell face down on the table, dead!”
Hero frowned. “And that's it?”
“Not quite. Before he died, he thrust out his hand. In it, a crumpled scrap of paper. I took it, smoothed it out on the table top ⦠and woke up!”