Hugh Cook - The Witchlord and the Weaponmaster

So it was that Sken-Pitilkin and his companions were caught by a device of some description when their stickbird challenged the skies above the island of Drum; were sucked into a teardrop; were carried into the castle on Drum; were transported into the interior of a yellow bottle; and were then restored to their full size.

They found themselves the prisoners of a force of some five dozen of their enemies. There were a handful of the Confederation's wizards, who were in charge of the operation, and these were backed by a strong force of the mercenary soldiers of the Landguard which served the Confederation in the realms of Drangsturm.

Ever since Sken-Pitilkin had fled from Drum – which was a mighty long time ago – a force from the Confederation had been waiting for his return. Sken-Pitilkin was at first hard put to believe this, as he had been gone for 22 years; but it was explained to him that those who were keeping guard on Drum had been relieved every three years.

What had compelled the Confederation to make such strenuous and unprecedented exertions? Sken-Pitilkin did not know. His only recent crime against the confederation was the assistance he had given to the wizard Zozimus, the witch Zelafona and the dwarf Glambrax. Some 22 years ago, he had helped them escape the Confederation's wrath.

Obviously, that trio must have committed some truly appalling crime against the Confederation. But as Sken-Pitilkin's captors refused to say exactly what it was that Zozimus and company had done, Sken-Pitilkin was denied the satisfaction of knowing the true reasons for the state of arrest in which he found himself. Sken-Pitilkin and his companions were not the only ones to be imprisoned in the yellow bottle, for in that same bottle was Shabble, held captive inside a restraining net which was woven from a white-glittering substance which Sken-Pitilkin could not identify.

The yellow bottle, by virtue of the way in which it was fabricated, quelled all powers of magic. Sken-Pitilkin could not work his magic in that bottle, and neither could Ontario Nol. But Shabble was not a magical device: Shabble was a technic, a machine. That being so, additional precautions had to be taken to restrain Shabble, who (when unrestrained) was capable of spitting forth fire in great quantity. So Shabble was caught in a net, and the net restrained by a tethering rope; and, though Shabble could still play bubble, floating like a balloon, the imitator of suns could spit fire no more.

Once Sken-Pitilkin and his companions had been caught, they were swiftly interrogated.

On interrogation, Banker Sod claimed himself to be a Banker from Chi'ash-lan, a Banker who had traveled to the Safrak Islands to buy the star-globe. He claimed to thing to now be his rightful property.

"What, then," said an interrogating wizard, "is this star- globe?"

"Why," said Sod, "it is a globe into which one can look and reach the future."

The interrogator was unimpressed by this, and attributed Sod's claim to sheer superstition. For, though witches and others have often demonstrated Gifts of Seeing, wizards are reluctant to believe in the validity of such. For all wizards of all the eight orders believe that the will is free – and, consequently, believe that the future is beyond prediction.

Having satisfied themselves that Sod was nothing but a fool of a traveler with more money than sense, the wizards said he could go, and take his star-globe with him.

At this, Sken-Pitilkin and his companions seethed. But they did not betray Sod, or the secret of the star-globe – and neither did Shabble. For it was clear to one and all that, supposing their escape to be ultimately obtained, it would be easier to wrest the star-globe from Sod than it would be to wrest the same device from the Confederation of Wizards.

Now, on overflying Drum, Sken-Pitilkin had seen no sign of ships or boats, so was at a loss to know how the force currently in occupation of his island proposed to leave it. He was told that they were visited monthly by a fishing boat from the port of D'Waith, and would take advantage of that boat's next call to arrange transit to D'Waith.

"And from there?" said Sken-Pitilkin. "I think it difficult for you to make any swift passage from D'Waith to Drangsturm.

Therefore I propose to build a stickbird, and fly us all to Drangsturm in a few short days."

But this generous offer was turned down, for the wizards who had caught Sken-Pitilkin had no plans to let him out of the yellow bottle in which he was caught.

So they did things the slow way.

When next they were visited by a boat from D'Waith – a small town at the eastern end of the Ravlish Lands – they arranged for a shuttle service to take one and all to that port. There, Banker Sod was liberated, and was allowed to leave for the west. A long and chancy journey, that march to the west! But, supposing Sod to ultimately be able to complete that journey, why, he would find himself in his home city of Chi'ash-lan.

With Sod went the star-globe, its secret still unbetrayed.

Then those who held Sken-Pitilkin and his companions captive settled down to wait until they were able to arrange to leave by sea.

Now any sea voyage out of D'Waith is a chancy procedure, for the waters are made dangerous by sea serpents, and by the shoals of the Lesser Teeth and the pirates of the Greaters.

But the journey overland was generally considered impractical. True, convoys of Galish merchants routinely traveled the overland trading route known as the Salt Road, and that led all the way south from Larbster Bay down to the Castle of Controlling Power at the western end of Drangsturm.

But in those days – and of course, while we are here talking about recent history, the world has changed out of all recognition since then – the Galish had their own agents in every town of substance. So supposing one of the Galish were to break a leg, or suffer some other misfortune, why, it would be the easiest thing in the world for shelter to be arranged, and for the victim to be left to heal, in the certainty of being able to join another Galish band at some time in the future.

A combination of armed strength, willing agents, assured credit and sustained goodwill made it possible for the Galish to hazard overland journeys which others would blanch at. Thus blanching, the wizards who had caught Sken-Pitilkin and his companions patiently waited until they were able to procure passage by sea from D'Waith to the city of Runcorn, a free port to the north of the Harvest Plains.

From Runcorn, another sea voyage took them to Androlmarphos, a port which serves the Harvest Plains. From there, it was easy to arrange passage to Cam, the ruling city of the island of Stokos.

All this time, Sken-Pitilkin and his companions were trapped in the bottle, and found their imprisonment to be exceedingly wearying. Sken-Pitilkin busied himself with the revision of some of the more intricate irregular verbs, but his companions lacked the same intellectual resources. Even Ontario Nol swiftly grew restless in his prison, and swore a great revenge on his jailors. And even Sken-Pitilkin had to admit that a diet of siege dust and water – for on such the prisoners were typically fed – was less than satisfactory.

In the days of their confinement, the prisoners made elaborate plans for tricking, deceiving, bluffing, ambushing and overpowering their jailors, for seizing the ring which commanded the bottle, and for wrecking their revenge on those who had so unjustly deprived them of their liberty.

But these plans came to nothing, for the jailors treated their prisoners with the greatest of caution, and never came near them unless it was absolutely necessary, and then only approached them in force.

Denied all possibility of escape, the prisoners began to use the undisturbed possession of their peace to co-ordinate stories which would protect the secret of the Door – a secret which they none of them wished to yield to the Confederation of Wizards.