Hugh Cook - The Witchlord and the Weaponmaster

Consequently, there was absolutely no point in whoring off into the hinterland in the hope of somehow finding a way off the continent by land or sea. They did not know the language; they had no money; and they would draw undue attention to themselves if they went around routinely performing miracles with the cornucopia.

There remained to them but one sensible course of action: to follow the Nijidith to Obooloo, which city could reasonably be expected to have been disordered by flood, and in that city to venture to Achaptipop, the great rock which sustained the Sanctuary of the Bondsmans Guild. If they could only win admission to that Bank, then the Circle of the Partnership Banks would take them to Dalar ken Halvar, where Guest's wife Penelope was surely waiting for his return, and then on to Alozay, where Lord Onosh had his kingdom.

"If," said Guest, as they discussed this, "your kingdom has not been somehow subverted or overthrown in your absence."

"I doubt very much that it has been," said Lord Onosh. "For Sod was as hostage on Alozay, and Bao Gahai was in charge of his custody."Guest thought this a less than adequate guarantee of the security of his father's kingdom, but did not dispute with him.

Nor did he dispute with his father when Lord Onosh retained the cornucopia – seeming to think it his own property. While Guest was greatly displeased at his father's presumption, he thought that now was not the time for a confrontation over the matter, so held his tongue on the journey to Obooloo.

Witchlord and Weaponmaster traveled cautiously, taking time to rest, sleep and scavenge in accordance with their requirements, and so it was dawn on a summer's day when they finally entered the city of Obooloo.

That city was beset by a dreadful desolation. The whole city was one reeking morass of urine, and nobody moved in the streets.

One might have thought the population dead, but for constant and unnerving wailing which arose from ten thousand buildings. It was the wailing of sinners beseeching the gods for mercy.

For the people of Obooloo knew nothing of Guest's discovery of the cornucopia and his use of it. All they knew was that the gods had pissed on their city, filling the Nijidith with a torrent of filth which had caused Lake Kak to rise and storm the city with sundering pollution. Now, in dread, the people of Obooloo tried to stave off a repeat performance, or to advert the imminent end of the world which so many of them feared.

So Witchlord and Weaponmaster proceeded without opposition into the heart of the city, guided by the great rock Achaptipop, which landmarked the way when they were confused by the backstreet bafflings of this alien urbanization. But their progress toward Achaptipop took them inevitably closer to the Temple of Blood, and when Guest realized he was in the presence of that building – which was unmistakable, since there was no other great building immediately south of Achaptipop – he drew his father's attention to the fact.

"You're not thinking of going in there, are you?" said Lord Onosh.

To Lord Onosh, the Temple of Blood was the place where he had been sorely wounded, then captured. To Lord Onosh, the Temple of Blood was the scene of one of the worst traumas of his life. But to Guest, the fighting in the Temple had been but a trifling incident. After all, what was a swordpoint brawl to a hero who has faced the Great Mink in a gladiatorial arena, who has dared the wrath of two therapists, and who has escaped alive from the very mouth of a murkbeast?

"If you're in such a great big hurry to get home," said Guest, "then go ahead. If that's what you want, I'll dare the temple on my own."

Whereupon his father produced the cornucopia, spat in it, and declared himself armed for the expedition. Carrying the cornucopia upright, the Witchlord then headed toward the Temple of Blood, declaring that any opposition would see the entire city digested by the outflux of his saliva. Guest Gulkan thought his father's spittle to be but a poor weapon with which to defy the strength of a Temple, let alone the undiluted might of an entire city, but it was the best weapon they had. Their swords had been lost in the Stench Caves of Logthok

Norgos, and since that loss they had met nobody from whom they could beg, borrow or steal any replacements. In particular, soldiers were so short on the ground that it was possible that perhaps the army had committed suicide en masse as an act of contrition for presumed offences against the gods.

With Lord Onosh bearing the cornucopia, Witchlord and Weaponmaster won their way to the Temple of Blood, and, entering by the unguarded southern gate, found the interior of that sacred place to be eerily silent.

They found their way to the central courtyard which held the Burning Pit, which was today very much an unburning pit – for it was full of squelched ashes. Amidst those ashes, Guest saw a ribcage, a cracked skull and a thighbone. Turning his face from these grim tokens of piety, he looked up – and realized that the southern face of the great rock Achaptipop was covered with crawling figures. Like so many spiders, dozens of penitents were scaling the face of the cliff, as they always do when the city of Obooloo has suffered some great misfortune.

Those human spiders were climbing without ropes, and, even as Guest watched, one slipped and fell. In utter silence. Guest listened, but heard no scream, no sound of impact – nothing but the unending wail of ten thousand mourners and the hoarse gutturals of a distant shout which might have been entirely unrelated to the fallen climber.

"Come," said the Witchlord, leading the way into the tunnel which exited from the courtyard's eastern side. Guest followed, splashing through rank puddles of his own urine, which further soaked the ruinous wads of his straw sandals.

In such manner, Guest ventured the fumbling darkness till he saw ahead the green glow of the demon Ungular Scarth.

Witchlord and Weaponmaster found that the octagonal chamber which housed the demon was still graced with a metal grille which allowed one to walk across the pool of liquid filth which dominated that room.

When that pool had been temporarily drained so a ring of ever-ice could be recovered from the floor of the chamber, a small portion of the metal grille had been removed to admit a man, but this portion had been replaced, and the once-drained pool had been flooded again. It occurred to Guest that maybe Anaconda Stogirov, the notorious High Priestess of the Temple of Blood, had arranged for the chamber to be flooded with liquid filth as a way of demeaning the untouchable demon which dominated the room with its green icelight.

"Greetings," said Guest Gulkan.

"And to you, greetings," said Ungular Scarth. "I see you have the knife. Is it Anaconda's knife, or did you take it from the Mutilator?"

"I took it from the Mutilator," said Guest.

"And you have the cornucopia," said Scarth, speaking to the Witchlord. "So! That explains the misfortune which has beset Obooloo!"

"One would have thought you would have guessed that much already," said Lord Onosh.

"I should have," admitted Scarth. "But I am as other people are. When legend speaks of the cornucopia, it speaks of the generation of silver, of gold, of wealth beyond imagining. It says nothing of pissing."

"That is the difference between legend and life," said Guest.

"Yes," said the demon. "And there is a further difference.

The people of legend have more sense than the people of life. Why are you wearing those gutter-tread sandals when your father has boots?"

"Am I to kill my father for his boots?" said Guest.

"It may well be that you will end by killing your father," said Scarth, "but I was not talking of murder. The cornucopia, man! If the boots are folded, they will fit!"