neetha Napew - Spellsinger

"Who, me? Yes, my boy, I believe I am."

"You ought not to have tried it, good wizard." Talea studied the empty ellipse

warily. "There are extremes of magic which should not be touched."

He shook a finger at her. "Don't try to tell me my business, young lady. Pog,

give me a wing up." The bat dipped lower, helped the wizard to his feet.

"I have learned part of what I wished to know, my friends. Though I must confess

I did not expect the spirit M'nemaxa to speak in riddles."

"Actually, I don't see that we've learned that much," said Flor.

"We have something to work with, my dear, even if it is only couched as a riddle

or metaphor. That is a great deal more than we had before." He sounded pleased.

"And if naught else, we have given a scare to the Empress Skrritch that may make

her hesitate or delay her attack, for she it was whom we saw in that final

moment.

"We can continue our journey, secure now in the knowledge that this will be a

full-scale war led by the Empress of all the Plated Folk herself. That should

win over some of muddleheads in Polastrindu!"

"I hope we don't have to go through this many more times," Flor muttered. "Santa

Cecilia may not have many more blessings left for me."

"Not to worry, child," he assured her. "I will not attempt it again. Such a

conjuration cannot be made more than once in a lifetime, and tonight I have used

mine. I employed incantations I will never employ again, spoke words I may not

safely speak henceforth.

"From now on, each day on earth will be one twenty-two thousandth of a day

shorter than previously, for in order to draw the immortal from the far depths

of his journey I had to utilize the soul-strength of the earth itself."

Jon-Tom walked out into the inner ellipse. Every blade of grass within the

marked shape had been vaporized. So had the soil. All that remained was a

perfect ellipsoidal shape of melted stone. The white granite had been twisted

like taffy.

"You spoke of its journey, sir, and so did it. I... I heard it."

"Did you see how furiously it soared, how steadily it galloped, though it did

not move beyond my confinement?" Jon-Tom nodded.

"It was at once here with us and holding its place in its journey." He cheeked

to make certain his plastron compartments were still tightly closed. "If the

legends of wizards and the admonitions of necromants are correct, the spirit

M'nemaxa has traveled approximately a thirtieth of its journey. The journey

began at the beginning of the first life, life which in making its journey

M'nemaxa strews across the worlds behind it.

"It is galloping around the circumference of the Universe. It is said that when

it meets itself coming it will annihilate purpose. Then it can finally rest.

'Tis no surprise it was irritated at our interruption. With a journey of several

trillion years still to make, even a little pause is unwelcome.

"Yet despite all that, the formulae worked. The ellipse held." He glowed a

little bit himself, with pride. "It was contained, and It answered when It was

called." He blinked and slowly sat down on the grass again. "I'm a little tired,

all of a sudden."

"I think we're all a little tired," said Jon-Tom knowingly.

"Aye, I'll not argue that, mate." The afterimage of the enormous winged

flame-horse still lingered on the otter's outraged retinas. "I think we could

all do with a bit o' sleep 'ere."

Everyone agreed. After a brief mutual examination to insure that no injuries had

been sustained, they began to make camp. Sleep finally came to all, but fiery

images alternated with visions of a tall green-black horror to provoke less than

benign dreams.

Far above and away a distant pinprick of light flared briefly across the cosmos.

The tiny burst faded quickly. It came from the vicinity of NGC 187, where

M'nemaxa angrily kicked aside a star or two as he raced back to where he'd left

off his eternal race around the infinite bowl of existence....

XIV

There was panic in Cugluch Keep.

Word of the troubles seeped down from servitors to attendants to workers and

even to the lowly apprentice workers who toiled in the deepest burrows and

worked endlessly to keep the omnipresent ooze from flooding the undertunnels.

Rumors abounded. Workers whispered of a flaming rain that had fallen from the

sky and destroyed hundreds of brood platforms. Or they told of tons of carefully

hoarded foodstuffs invaded and ruined by spore rot. Or that the sun had appeared

for three consecutive days, or that several of the Royal Court had been

discovered feeding on the corpse of a mere worker and had been summarily

dismissed.

The truth was far worse than the rumors. Those who knew hid in fear and went

about their daily business always looking over their shoulders (those who could

look over their shoulders, for some had no necks... and some no shoulders).

Hunter packs took every opportunity to get away from the capital city, on the

pretext of adding still further to the enormous stocks of supplies. Official

auditors bent low over their tallies. All were affected by the panic, a panic

that reached beyond sense, beyond normal fears of mortality, to affect even

quivering grubs within their incubation cocoons.

The Empress Skrritch was on a rampage. Blood and bits of loose flesh trailed in

her wake as she stormed through the rooms and chambers of the labyrinthine

central palace.

Safe from her wrath, endless legions of mandibled, facet-eyed troops drilled

mechanically on the mossy plains outside the city. As if fearful of reaching the

ground, the rays of the sun penetrated the dun-colored sky only feebly.

Guards and servants, scurrying messengers and bureaucrats alike felt the

Empress' temper. Eventually the rage spent itself and she settled herself down

in one of the lesser audience chambers.

Her thoughts were on her own fear. Idly she nibbled the headless corpse of a

still twitching blue beetle chamberlain who'd been too slow to get out of her

way. Chitin crunched beneath immensely powerful jaws.

It was some time before Kesylict the Minister dared to stick fluttery antennae

around the arched doorway into the chamber. Sensing only simmering anger and the

absence of blind fury he poked first his head and then the rest of his antlike

body into the room.

A glance revealed a ruby the size of a man's head and redder than his blood. In

the top facet Kesylict saw the reflection of the Empress. She was squatting on

four legs. The body of the unfortunate chamberlain dangled loosely from one hand

while the beautifully symmetrical porcelain-inlaid face of the Empress stared

out without seeming to see him.

Though not as lavishly decorated as the main audience chamber or the sinister

den of death designated as the royal bedroom, this chamber was still lush with

gems and precious metals. The Greendowns were rich in such natural wealth, as

though the earth had compensated the land for its noisome, malodorous surface

and eternal cloud cover.

They were much appreciated by the hard-shelled denizens of those lands. In the

absence of the sun, their sparkle and color provided much beauty. All the

varieties of corundum were mined in great quantities: beryl, sapphire, ruby.

Rarer diamond framed the windows in the chamber, and thousands of lesser gems,

from topaz to chryso-beryl, studded furniture and sculpture and the ceiling

itself.

But Kesylict had not kept his head by mooning like a bemused grub at commonplace