The Sorcerer_s Skull

" I' d best take care of Krek," said Lan hurriedly. He shook Huw' s hand and nodded to Oliana, not trusting the woman to any other platonic gesture.

" That you' d better. He' s gathering quite a crowd."

Lan saw the caravan master spoke the truth. The owner of the concession stand cowered back against the stone wall of the city, his tiny charcoal burner untended. A large worm roasting over the coals no longer turned and began to burn.

" Here, allow me," said Lan, elbowing his way through the noisy crowd to aid the concessionaire. He began turning the worm to ensure an even cooking.

" He: he' s with you?" asked the man, not taking his eyes off Krek.

" Yes. How much for the worm turning?" Lan indicated the one already spitted.

" Take it. Free. Just: move along. Please!"

" Free?" piped up Krek in a childlike voice. " My, my, this is a hospitable place. Thank you, friend." A dual clicking of his mandibles caused the worm to vanish. Lan replaced the skewer and slipped the booth owner a small gold piece. The denomination and mintage were of another world, but the metal retained its value across worlds.

As Lan and Krek worked their way from the booth, the spider commented, " I should have charged him for my services. His business has trebled since all saw the high quality of his new patron."

Lan Martak glanced over his shoulder and saw it was true. People thronged to the vendor begging for his wares. Lan shuddered at the thought of all the grubs being toasted and sold. He preferred his food less crunchy.

" Let' s find a stable and arrange for a horse. That mountain is far enough away so that I don' t want to walk to it."

" You need new boots, too, friend Lan Martak," observed the spider. " Those are doomed to an early demise."

The tattered fragments of leather remaining in Lan' s boots convinced him that, while haste was necessary to find Inyx, he had to refit himself before any serious travelling. A horse, food, new clothes- boots! — and a sharpening of his sword and knife headed the list of items required. And he hadn' t forgotten his vow to take a long, hot soak to ease the muscle strain he still suffered. In the past few weeks he had been through a lifetime of danger. His body required some attention now or it would fail him at a critical time in the future. Lan knew with innate certainty that finding Inyx would be a difficult task.

And combatting Claybore presented an even more difficult duty.

He tensed as he thought of the sorcerer, that eyeless skull, and even felt the tides of magic rippling around him in the city. Lan shook off the feeling of: compulsion. Few knew he had entered Melitarsus, and even fewer cared who he was. What magics he sensed were those already existing and weren' t directed against him personally.

" This is a nice place. Streets swept, sanitation advanced, even a few of those things. I suspect Huw will purchase several to replace those he lost." Lan pointed to a chuffing, clanking, smoking wagon powered by steam. A Maxwell' s demon sat trapped in the boiler, selecting hot molecules and keeping them while discarding the colder ones. " Those were becoming common on my world before I walked the Road. At least a dozen of them around town." When Krek only sniffed in disdain, he dropped the subject. He didn' t bother telling the spider how he' d stolen one of the vehicles, promising the demon its freedom in exchange for a little distance between him and the law.

" I see fewer of the vendors selling succulent morsels," complained Krek. " I fear I might vanish unless I dine more frequently." Since he' d met the spider, Lan had noted a fullness developing around Krek' s middle. He believed it came from overeating, but he said nothing. What thoughts went on inside that alien brain he had never figured out. Krek was a friend; Lan left it at that.

" There' s a modest enough caravansary that will be adequate for my needs. I' m sure they can cater some bugs for you." Lan went into the inn, fascinated by the size of the place. While it didn' t expand much on the ground, it rose to a dizzying height of four stories. Ordinary buildings weren' t constructed like that on his home world. Only important edifices, like government buildings, or emperors' palaces, rose above the second story.

" Good day, gentle one," greeted the man behind a highly polished wooden bar. He leaned forward slightly, putting his weight on the bar. " Travelling from a distance?"

" Quite a distance."

" To?"

" I beg your pardon?" Lan' s suspicions flared. What did it matter to this oily clerk where he travelled?

" I require it for the register." He pointed to a small book open in front of him. " The Suzerain requires it." He gave an eloquent shrug that indicated he was but a poor simple servant obeying the capricious whims of a bureaucrat. Lan made him out to be another bureaucrat revelling in paperwork.

" I don' t know the name of the place."

" But you do know which direction you' re travelling?"

" Toward the mountain," cut in Krek. " The big one. The one that is of a decent size on this otherwise flat world."

" The big one?" the clerk asked, puzzled. Then he brightened. " Mount Tartanius? You are pilgrims making the journey, then!"

" Yes," said Lan, not caring what journey the man referred to. All he wanted was a hot tub and time to rest in a soft bed.

" Affix your chop here," the clerk said, indicating a small portion of the page yet unfilled with his fussy writing. Lan obeyed, then hesitated. The clerk smiled and said, " That' s all right. I' ll enter the notation for your friend."

" He, uh, doesn' t need a room," said Lan. " In the stables will be fine."

" A room," said the clerk firmly. " We wouldn' t want to disturb the horses, would we?"

" No, we would not," agreed Krek.

The clerk beamed. Lan sighed. Being back in civilization had some compensations, but it also had drawbacks. He' d have to pay for two rooms to keep the spider from frightening the animals.

Lan Martak had just finished his second long bath of the day and felt almost human again when a hard knock came at his door.

" Who is it?" he called.

" Envoy from the Suzerain of Melitarsus," came the surprising answer.

" One minute," he said, getting into his trousers. He didn' t bother with the ragged tunic or his ripped boots. If the envoy from the Suzerain of Melitarsus didn' t like the way he dressed, that was just too bad. He had no reason to be rousted out like this. He hadn' t even been in town long enough to violate any laws.

" Good day, gentle one," said the envoy, bowing in a courtly fashion.

" What do you want?"

" The Suzerain herself desires an audience with you."

" You mean she wants me to show up for an audience." The difference wasn' t subtle. The envoy ordered him to the palace, or wherever the Suzerain kept her court.

" Not at all. Suzerain Nashira wishes to speak with you and your companion. At your convenience."

" You mean if I don' t accompany you, I won' t be forced along?" The shocked expression on the man' s face told Lan much. This was a request, not an order. " Why does the ruler of Melitarsus want to see me?"

The envoy cleared his throat and nervously averted his eyes. Lan knew then what the answer would be.

" The, uh, spider. It: he: his like has never before been seen in Melitarsus. Smaller varieties, of course, abound, but none so large. The Suzerain wishes to observe him more closely."

" He' s not a zoo beast," snapped Lan. Then, softening his tone, he said, " Krek' s an intelligent being."

" Such is the appeal for Her Highness. She has heard reports of the encounter with the grub merchant."

" Any time I want, we can see the Suzerain Nashira?" asked Lan suspiciously.

" Not just any time, but certainly at your convenience, and if Her Highness is not caught by the press of official duties. She is a very busy woman."