Lin Carter - 5bGondwane 025d - The Enchantress of World's End-1.jpg The ENCHANTRESS of WORLD'S END DAW BOOKS, INC. DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, PUBLISHER 1301 Avenue of the Americas New York, N. Y. 10019 Copyright ©, 1975, by Lin Carter All Rights Reserved. Cover art by Michael Whelan. For Keith Laumer, a great guy, a grand writer, and a Good friend. FIRST PRINTING, MAY 1975 123456789 CD OK Book One: THE ETHICAL TRIUMVIRS OF CHX 1. The Scarlet City 9 2. A Quiet Evening in Chx 14 3. The Morning After 20 4. Un-Disturbers of the Peace 26 5. Of the Ximchak Horde 33 6. Flight from Chx 39 7. Escape to Jeopardy 45 Book Two: THE QUEEN OF RED MAGIC 8. Slaves of Zelmarine 53 9. The Feast of the Falling Moon 59 10. Grrff the Xomholian 66 11. The Superwoman Speaks 72 12. Istrobian's Flying Kayak 78 13. The Omega Triskelion 84 14. TheBoyPhadia 9Z Book Three: THE GRANDFATHER OF ALL DRAGONS 15. Meeting in the Mountains 16. The Mind-Probe 17. The Cavern of a Thousand Perils 18. The Oldest One 19. On the Purple Plain 20. The Armory of Time 21. Dragon's Deep Book Four: THE MOBILE CITY OF KAN ZAR KAN 22. Shanghaied, or Something 145 23. The Welcoming Committee 151 24. Within the Robot City 157 25. Kan Zar Kan Is Attacked 163 26. In the Red Ziggurat 169 27. Battle on the Endless Plain 175 28. The City Moves North 180 PRINTED IN U.S.A Appendix: Terms A Glossary of Unfamiliar Names and 187 Lin Carter - 5bGondwane 025d - The Enchantress of World's End-2.jpg Book One THE ETHICAL TRIUMVIRS OF CHX Scene: Northern YamaYama* Land; The Wastes of Ning; The Free City of Chx; the Vanishing Mountains. The Characters: An Illusionist, a Construct, a Girl Knight and the Bazonga; Chxiaii Townsfolk, Jailers and Triumvirs; Thirty-Two Death Dwarves. 1. THE SCARLET CITY Through the skies of Gondwane the Great, Earth's last and mightiest continent, there floated an extraordinary vehicle. It bore the likeness of an ungainly Phoenix-shaped bird of dark bronze, with spread wings and peacock-tail, measuring some thirty feet from beak to tail-tip. For all that it should have weighed many tons, it soared as lightly as a wisp of cloud through the sides. Behind the arched neck, and between the broad shoulders of the bronze bird-machine, a cockpit containing six seats was hollowed. The vehicle transported a remarkable foursome. In the "driver's seat," so to speak, reposed an elderly but vigorous man robed and gloved in glimmering silks, whose features were perpetually masked from sight behind a visor of lilac vapor. This personage was a powerful but friendly magician known as the Illusionist of Nerelon. For better or for worse, he regarded himself as the benign protector of these regions of north-central-eastern Gondwane—a position of responsibility he had, in a sense, inherited. Seated beside him was a pert, long-legged, adolescent girl with a snub nose, a pretty, freckled face, sparkling green eyes under a mop of tousled red curls, full lips and a small, stubborn chin. She wore odd bits of steel armor—greaves, girdle, gorget, and the like. Her firm, pointed, tip-tilted breasts were also cupped in steel, and an abbreviated mail-skirt, which barely covered her rounded hips and left her tanned thighs deliciously bare, completed her curiously warlike costume. She was a girl knight from the distant kingdom 10 Lin Carter of Jemmerdy where the women are the warriors and the men are all scholars, administrators, or aesthetes. Her name was Xarda. Behind these two, uncomfortably squeezed into the second row of seats, towered a gigantic warrior. He had a grim-jawed, heavy-boned face, with fierce black eyes under scowling brows; the dark bronze of his naked hide was offset by his spectacular mane of glittering silver hair which poured over herculean shoulders and down his back. His bronzed torso, bulging with steely thews, was strapped into a warharness of black leather. Between his shoulders an enchanted Silver Sword was scabbarded. He was a Construct, a synthetic superman created by the Time Gods for some unknown world-saving mission, and his name was Ganelon Silvermane. I have referred to these persons as a remarkable foursome: the fourth individual of their company, possibly the most unique and curious of them aU, was their bird vehicle itself, called the Bazonga. This animated aerial contraption housed a sentient crystalloid brain, connected by cunning electrodes to vision lenses, ear tympanies and a voice-box. It could thus see, hear, reason and speak; and, as its bronze body was rendered weightless by antigravitic yxium crystals, powered for flight by magnetic waves, it made the perfect companion of their travels. At the time whereof I write, the four adventurers, having successfully terminated the menace of the Airmasters of Sky Island who had terrorized the Tigermeri of Karjixia*, were enroute from the kingdom of the Tigermen to the realm of Jemmerdy hi the east. The Illusionist had decided that the very least they could do to thank the girl knight for her share in their adventure was to assist her in returning home, before journeying themselves back to the magician's enchanted palace of Nerelon hi the Crystal Mountains, south of the Voormish Desert. They had left the flying island * As described in the first volume of the Gondwane Epic, a book entitled The Warrior of World's End, DAW, 1974. THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 11 early that morning, after ending the career of the tyrannical Elphod of the Airmasters; and, after a brief visit to Xombol, the capital of the kingdom of the Tigermen, where they had given Prince Vrowl the glad tidings that his difficulties with the troublesome Sky Islanders had been brought to a happy conclusion, they had flown hi the Bazonga bird all day across the regions of Northern YamaYamaLand. Skirting the northerly borders of the dominions of the Horxites, they had traversed the kingdom of Ixland from west to east; and from thence along the northern slopes of the Mountains of the Death Dwarves. At the present tune they were soaring high above a desolate and barren region called Ning, which was inhabited only by a few monastic settlements of Mind Worshippers. Late afternoon was upon them; the golden sun of Old Earth declined in the west and the bleak landscape beneath their keel was drowned in purple shadows. "At this rate, my dear Bird, we shall be flying all night, not to reach the capitol of Jemmerdy until sometime tomorrow morning," remarked the Illusionist testily. "Had you not loitered along the way, we might have been in Vladium by now, being wined and dined in the hostelries of Xarda's homeland!" "Oh dear me, I suppose you're right," their peculiar vehicle clacked carelessly hi her metallic tones. "But the view was so interesting I simply did not have the heart to speed my flight. Don't you find travel broadening, my dear?" the Bazonga asked the girl. "Personally, after so many eons spent deep in the bosom of Gondwane, I find the experience very educational!" The knightrix of Jemmerdy grinned at the quaint Bazonga, as the ungainly bird artlessly prattled on. "By my halidom, 'tis true," replied the Sirix Xarda wryly, "but we mortals, composed of flesh and blood, unlike yourself, require nutriment and repose. And, if we continue this interminable flight, my dear Bazonga, we are not likely to enjoy either until mid-morn, when the battlements of Vladium will hove into view." 12 Lin Carter "Perhaps we'd better land at some friendly city along the way, and secure lodgings," grumbled the Illusionist. "It has been so long since luncheon that my digestive processes are no longer on speaking terms with my mouth. Ganelon, you have the map, where are we, exactly?" The bronze giant consulted the chart which he spread out on his lap. "Near the eastern edge of Ning, master," he replied in his deep voice. The Illusionist nodded briskly. "Quite so. Well, we are not likely to find lodgings among the Ningevites; they are Mentalists, convinced in the non-existence of soul or spirit, worshipping the mind alone and cultivating its powers, which they augment and develop through the ceremonial imbibing of hallucinogenic drugs. A harsh, fanatic lot, with little inclination towards friendly hospitality. What lies beyond the bleak country of the Mind Worshippers?" "The Free City of Chx," said Ganelon. "Aye, that's true; I had forgotten. Chx. A small city-state to the north of Dwarfland, just over the Vanishing Mountains. Surely we can find some manner of hospice, inn or caravanserai in Chx . . ." "Master—" "As a matter of fact, it would be interesting to visit Chx," the Illusionist ruminated. "I have not been there in ages—in many years, that is. A colorful city, as I recall, with a local honey-wine most delectable —" "But master—" "—And a spiced meat pie you have to taste to be—" "Master—" "—lieve! Well, what is it, my boy?" the Illusionist snapped. "Um. Nothing, really. But . . . remember how we got into trouble in Holy Horx on the last trip? And we were just going to stop there for the night . . ." "Stuff and nonsense, Ganelon, you great lump! By the Purple Vortex, lad, have some faith in my powers, can't you? "Rs not for naught that I am deemed preeminent among the magicians, wizards, sorcerers and thau- THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 13 maturgists of Northern YamaYamaLand! Dear me, all we're going to do is take a room at an inn for the night, and enjoy a hot meal and a comfortable bed for once, after roughing it across the length and breadth of Gond-wane all these weeks! You may require only the rudest sustenance to revitalize your mighty frame, but these old bones of mine need a bit of comfort from time to time." "Yes, master. I'm sorry, master," said Ganelon unhappily. "It's just that I don't want us to get into any more trouble, like we did back hi Horx." "There is very little likelihood of that, my boy! The Holy Horxites were religious maniacs who considered everybody else in the world despicable heretics! But Chx, as I seem to recall, is a decent, respectable, law-abiding city, now under the benign government of the Ethical Triumvirs—" "And what are Ethical Triumvirs?" asked Xarda curiously. "By my troth, magister, ne'er heard I of such before." "Well, ah, actually I'm not quite certain what the term means," admitted the Illusionist. "But the people are ethical and law-abiding in Chx, and not fanatical adherents to any particular sect, like those madmen of Horx. We shall spend a comfortable evening for once, and simply stay out of trouble! Come, no more arguments, now! I've decided on Chx, and that's all there is to it. Ganelon, will you instruct the Bazonga oh the way thither . . ." The giant warrior did as Ms master bade, and they flew on into the east as the Sun sank in golden splendor behind them. Ere long, the towers of the Scarlet City of Chx rose before them and their ungainly flying vehicle brought them down to land hi the bazaar of the small metropolis. And thus there was set into motion a sequence of events which was to have exceedingly far-reaching consequences for this portion of Old Earth in the Twilight of Time. 2. A QUIET EVENING IN CHX The travelers discovered the Scarlet City to be neat, clean and, as advertized, respectable. The squares and bazaars of Chx were filled with a quiet, orderly populace who regarded the exotic Outlanders with curious but not unfriendly eyes. Ganelon and Xarda looked about them with interest: flowering trees lined the spacious boulevards, and these were neatly trimmed and clipped. The streets and sidewalks were recently swept and the doorsteps of the Chxian houses were freshly scrubbed, the houses themselves neatly painted. Everything within view was spotless, immaculate, in excellent repair. The Scarlet City was attractive, with its red towers and bright yellow houses, tinkling fountains and gay bazaars; the people themselves looked comfortable, happy, and well-fed. The girl knight said in an undertone to Ganelon, "They certainly dress in an odd fashion!" The gjant nodded silently, staring about him. While the Chxians were a pleasant-looking folk, they were robed and coifed with a somberness that he found quaint and odd. The men were clothed in sober hues of gray, brown, black or umber, with tight-fitting hose, knee-breeches, and buckled shoes. The women wore voluminous skirts in the same somber and joyless hues, and these skirts completely covered their lower limbs, while long-sleeved, high-necked bodices covered their upper bodies from neck to wrist Even their hair was covered 14 THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 15 with stiff cloth, and their faces were devoid of cosmetics. Also, they wore no jewelry. Even the children, who played quietly before the houses, were dressed in miniature replicas of the adult raiment. Accustomed to screeching, dirty-faced ragamuffins, the Illusionist found their quiet play a welcome relief and pooh-poohed the comments of his fellow adventurers. "There is nothing here that need disturb us," he said with lazy good humor. "I gather that the Chxians are a highly moral, respectable people: what's wrong with that? So the women don't bare their bosoms, paint their lips, or bedizen themselves with gauds and bangles —what difference does it make? By the Ninth Plenum, you two worriers would find something to disturb you in the Paradisical Gardens themselves! Come along, now, and stop grexing!" Ganelon exchanged a dubious glance with Xarda, then shrugged and fell in behind his master. But, like the girl knight, he found something oppressive in the extreme sobriety of Chx. Despite its bright colors, a gloomy pall of severe puritanism seemed to hang over the quiet streets, the freshly-painted houses, the orderly populace. And all about hung signs which proclaimed a variety of maxims. "STRONG DRINK, WEAK MORALS," one placard reminded. Another announced warningly, "FLIPPANCY IS FATAL," while a third glowered down upon them with the grim legend, "WHY SING AND DANCE WHILE DEATH IS NEAR?" Despite herself, the Sirix shivered slightly. The Illusionist affably accosted the nearest of the Chxians who stood staring at the strangers curiously, if not disapprovingly. "Tell me, my good man, is there an inn nearby where weary travelers can find a meal and lodgings for the night?" The Chxian nodded and replied, in neutral tones, that the nearest might be found on the south side of the bazaar square. Thanking him, the old magician led his companions to the threshold of the establishment which termed itself, in sober brown- 16 Lin Carter painted letters, "The Hospice of the Twelve Cardinal Virtues." "Come, come, you two, stop staring about apprehensively, and let us enter," he said testily. Within they found a long, low-ceilinged room with tables and oaken benches neatly arranged before a cheerfully-crackling fire on a stone grate. The plaster walls were painted a solemn gray and the wooden rafters were neatly blackwashed; but the odors of meat turning on a si/71 ing spit were appetizing and the taproom, despite its lack of color or ornament, seemed snug and comfortable enough. A plump, sober-faced inn-keeper assigned them rooms for the night at a remarkably low fee and set dishes before them laden with hot meat, brown bread and fresh fruit, together with large mugs of a spiced drink which turned out to be an extremely mild ale whose alcoholic content was virtually nil. Tasting the meat, Ganelon found it a choise cut, but almost tasteless. "Come, inn-keeper, have you no spices to enliven the flavor?" he grumbled. The placid-faced Chxian stared at him wide-eyed. "Spices heat the blood and are a toxic moral influence," he said primly. "Solid, nourishing fare is the best." "Aye, and this ale is excessively bland, by my troth," the girl knight grimaced after tasting it. The innkeeper shrugged. "Strong drink unhinges the reason and makes quarrelsome the temper," he replied, almost tonelessly, with the air of one repeating a maxim which frequent reiteration had made all but meaningless. "You will find the beverage wholesome and filling, mistress, I am sure." The Illusionist munched on the tough meat and took a swallow from his mug. He then glanced around at the somber room, whose only note of cheer came from the crackling fire. A number of soberly-dressed Chxians sat about conversing in a monotone, sipping their mugs, THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 17 paying little or no attention to the Outlanders beyond a single, wide-eyed glance at Xarda's bare legs and Ganelon's skimpy loin-cloth. "Your taproom seems remarkably quiet tonight," the Illusionist complained. "Can none of these fellows give us a merry tune on lute, pipe, or tambourine?" The inn-keeper turned a cold eye on him. "Song and dance," he said, with a slight, fastidious shudder, "are cankers which devour the moral fiber of sinful men. We Chxians abhor the loose morals and ethical decay of foreign realms; sobriety, a clear head, and a quiet, respectable tongue are high among the virtues we celebrate. Your rooms are ready." And with that, and a slight, disapproving sniff, he turned on his heel and left them to then: own devices. "Hmm," the Illusionist grumped. "A dour lot, these Chxians! Well, let them be as glum and solemn as they please, so long as they let us be. Eat up children, drink deep, soft beds await our weary, toil-worn limbs!" "Let's hope so," said Ganelon Silvennane gloomily. Their three rooms were small and bare, devoid of furnishing, save for a narrow bed, a small table bearing a candle-stub in a pewter dish, and a chamberpot. The rooms were identical, even to the frowning placards on the walls which bore stern injunctions against licentious behavior such as "CONTINENCE LEADS TO QUIET SLUMBER" and "A CHASTE BED IS A RESTFUL BED." The beds themselves, mere cots, were hard and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, weary and well-fed, they were ready to retire. Ganelon had accompanied the Bazonga to the stables at the rear of the hospice; finding the stalls too small to contain the huge creature, he had tethered her to a zooka-zooka tree in the courtyard. He came clumping up the stair to their adjoining rooms after the termination of this task with a wide grin on his habitually grim features. "What's so funny, my boy?" inquired the magician. "The inn-keeper," chuckled Ganelon. "I tied the 18 Lin Carter Bazonga bird to a tree in the courtyard and asked the inn-keeper if she would be safe there for the night on account of thieves. Thieves/ I thought he would fall in a dead faint at the very suggestion. It appears that here in Chx thievery is about as rare as leprosy, and regarded with much the same degree of loathing!'* Chuckling, they bade each other good-night and turned to then* respective rooms. Night fell. The immense, cracked orb of the Falling Moon rose over the edges of Gondwane to flood the Supercontinent with silver light. And, with the coming of darkness, a most peculiar change came over the sober, respectable, Galendil-fearing people of Chx. "Ganelon? Hsst, you great oaf; wake up!" The giant blinked awake to find the supple, half-naked form of the Sirix Xarda bending over him, shaking his shoulder. "What's happened—trouble?" he grunted, sitting up and reaching for the Silver Sword. "/'/f say," hissed the girl knight enigmatically. "Come take a look out of the window!" The giant obediently clambered out of the cot and crossed the closet-sized room to peer out at the street below through glassy panes. What he saw from the window brought a rumble of astonishment to his lips. By night, the streets of the Scarlet City were transformed into a fantastic carnival of revelry. Colored paper lanterns were strung across the streets, swinging gaily in the breezes. And through these streets, which by day were so exceptionally sober and respectable, surged a motley throng in gaudy festival garments. Most of the revellers carried flasks and bottles from which they drank heavily, the heady vapors of strong wines and brandies rising to the nostrils of Silvermane and Xarda. Musicians led the dancing throng with the patter of drums, the jingle-tfiMmp-jingle of gay tambourines and the tootle of pipes. Giggling bands of young children, naked except for flower-wreaths, fondled each other in doorways, while beneath every streetlight voluptuous women with unbound hair, their rounded limbs com THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 19 pletely devoid of clothing, undulated to a hip-waggling dance. "Great Qal-en-dil!" Silvermane gasped. "You said it," the girl knight grinned. "Look down the alley there!" Ganelon followed her pointing finger to see a nude woman enthusiastically volunteering her services to five or six partially-unclothed men, in a complicated multi-embrace of considerable anatomical ingenuity. He gasped again, coloring faintly. "And there!" the girl pointed. A band of looters, having smashed in the windows of a shop, were busily emptying it of every last movable object. He stared out over the city, his amazement growing. Five masked bandits were quarreling over the plump purse of a lone quarry who stood helpless before then* drawn knives while they squabbled. A bit further on a fat man sprawled, drunk and snoring, in a doorway while two stark naked, grubby-faced, grinning urchins relieved him of his purse, headgear, cloak and buskins. Further off, over the city, the sound of smashing windows came to them, the scuffle and thud of innumerable bar-room brawls, and a whiff of smoke from several burning buildings was evident. Snatches of wild carnival music, drunken song, and street-corner fights, drifted to them on the evening breeze. "Has the entire city gone—mad?" asked Ganelon, puzzled. "Or have we?" Xarda had no answer to his question. 3. Lin Carter - 5bGondwane 025d - The Enchantress of World's End-3.jpg They went into the next room, where the Illusionist was, to find the old magician seated near the window peering out into the riotous streets with curiosity and just a touch of amusement. "Master, have you—" "Sssh! No chatter, my boy—and don't strike a light, either! We don't wish to attract undue attention, do we?" warned the magister. Xarda took one look at the figure of the old man, silhouetted against the pane, and clapped her hand over her mouth to restrain an attack of the giggles. For she had never before chanced to see the Illusionist accoutered for bed. He wore a loose nightshirt which exposed his skinny shanks, clothed in wrinkled hose, and his bony feet were shoved into a dilapidated pair of snuff-brown carpet slippers. He wore a long night-cap with a threadbare tassel at the end, she was amused to notice. But his veil of violet vapor was still in place. For a giddy moment, the girl knight wondered if he wore his mist-mask even in bed. He seemed highly gratified by the spectacle of the streets below, and was peering out with an interest more clinical than voyeuristic. "Heh, heh!" he chuckled dryly. "I was wondering about that. Delighted to see ..." "What?" asked Ganelon bewilderedly. "Wondering about what, master?" "Well my boy, you know, when a people repress their natural human fleshly appetites to the degree the 20 Chxians have, such repressions cause a dangerous blockage of the id which can, in time, lead to serious psychosis. Puritanism is at one end of the spectrum of human behavior, libertinism at the other. The wise man selects a middle course—'Everything in moderation; but a little of everything,* as wise old Ophion puts it. The unwise, howsomever, hew to one extreme or the other, to their error and eventual detriment." Xarda observed the view from the window with bright, interested eyes. Her quick wits had ascertained the point of the Illusionist's rambling, philosophic discourse while Ganelon, of course, was still fumbling along word by word. **You mean," she started. "Of course!" he snickered good-humoredly. "The so-called Ethical Triumvirs, when they first imposed these tight moral strictures on their people, must have envisioned or guessed what would happen. So, with commendable maturity of judgement, they imposed a double law upon the Chxians. By day they are chaste, sober, frugal, industrious, clean and moral to a fault But by night—" "—By night, they are anything but!" giggled Xarda. "Exactly, my dear! Doubtless, living by this double standard engenders schizophrenia to some degree; but that is far more wholesome than a blocked, congested, sorely inflamed libido." Ganelon, plodding dully behind, began to catch their meaning. "Do you mean to say," he demanded, still puzzled, "that while by daylight the Chxians are moral, ethical, scrupulously honest, law-abiding and sober—?" "At night they turn into a bunch of thieving, murdering sots and lechers," the Sirix chuckled. Ganelon seemed shocked; the old magister, however, was fascinated. He began to pull his glimmering robes on over his mghtwear. "Come, children, let's go down and enjoy the spectacle at first hand!" "Are you sure we should?" said Ganelon, dubiously. 22 Lin Carter "Certainly. Why not? We are hardly likely to have our morals infected by the- example of the Chxians, and they can do us no harm in their present state. Since we certainly won't get any sleep, what with all this clamor, we might as well get some fun out of it. Come —get some clothes on, and join me below!" The taproom was transformed. From some hidden cellar, strong beverages had emerged and were being sold across the counter by the wainload. The long room was thronged, mostly by men in an advanced stage of inebriation, but there were more than a few women amongst them. None of these wore any clothes to speak of (unless a flower behind an ear, or a bit of jewelry here and there can be called "clothes"). They were either dancing with slow, wriggling, lascivious motions to the sultry atonal music of the pipes, or were busy being embraced, kissed and so on. At least three fist-fights were in progress by the time Xarda, Ganelon and the Illusionist got downstairs, and one of these was developing into a splendid bar-room brawl. Ganelon was faintly shocked to see three or four civil monitors sitting at the bar, watching the miniature riot with expressions of sodden satisfaction on their faces. During the day, these same monitors in their stiff collars and uncomfortable tabards had been everywhere, suspiciously eyeing the populace, alert for the slightest signs of incontinence, indecency or inebriation. Now they were virtually wallowing in a den of sin, and seemed to be enjoying every minute of it! The street outside was a shambles. Broken, looted shops gaped emptily; drunks slouched, snoozing in the doorways; thieves in black vizors with naked dirks lurked in every alley-mouth; men and women, reeling drunkenly in every conceivable state of disarray from gaudy carnival garb to total nakedness, staggered about giggling and embracing, dancing arm in arm. A pungent cloud of mint-green vapor floated past from a band of sniggering, wobble-kneed loiterers. The Illusionist sniffed sharply, and laughed. "Crazy-weed! I THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 23 didn't know they still grew it in these parts. No, my dear, thank you very much for the compliment, but I fear a man of my centuries is somewhat past such things!" This last comment was made to a heavily painted woman whose bodice was open to the navel, and who strolled about openly soliciting the attentions of unengaged males. Ganelon, towering above the throng by head and shoulders, stared about htm with an expression of gloomy disapproval of his glum features. / fear I shall never understand True Men, he thought to himself somberly. Many a fight was in progress along the avenue, and some of the streets and squares they passed contained full-scale riots. Silvermane kept a wary eye out for trouble, and his hand was never far from a weapon, but nothing untoward happened to them during their tour of the streets of Chx. Any troublemakers still sober enough to walk could measure the heroic thews and towering height of the bronze giant, obviously, and decided to leave well enough alone. "Tally-ho, there goes another riot!" laughed Xarda, as a growling mob went charging by, waving makeshift clubs in a belligerent manner. "And to think, earlier I was saying to myself that Chx was just about the dullest town I had every visited!" The Illusionist laughed "Yes, my dear, quite a transformation, indeed! But / am wondering if this sort of thing goes on all night, or only for a pre-arranged period. Because if it does last until dawn, I am wondering what the poor Chxians do in order to get some sleep!" Within another hour or so, the noise and bustle began to slacken sharply, answering the Illusionist's question for him. Those citizens determined on wife-stealing, infidelity, rape or more outre sexual encounters had already stolen away to some dark, cozy places; and the rest of the citizenry were either dead drunk, or had been bludgeoned into unconsciousness in this or that riot, fist-fight or bar-room brawl. Soon the city was 24 Lin Carter peaceful again, and the travelers returned to thek inn to snatch a few hours of slumber before daybreak. What with being up half the night, it was only natural that they overslept by several hours the next day. Indeed, the sun was well up into the noonward skies by the tune they roused themselves, washed, dressed, and came downstairs for some breakfast. The innkeeper, his gaudy carnival robes tucked away, looked stiff and solemn (and ever so slightly hung-over) in his modest daytime raiment as he served them a meager, spiceless but nourishing meal. The Illusionist good-humoredly strove to engage the glum, puffy-eyed fellow in conversation concerning the riotous doings of the night, but the proprietor regarded them with eyes full of reproving severity at such flippant, suggestive talk and made a pointed reference regarding the civil monitors, which gave the old magician a clear hint to lay off. Obviously, what was done at night was never mentioned by day. With one exception, however. The Illusionist and Xarda were taking a brisk stroll in the square, prior to thek departure, while Ganelon paid their bill, collected thek gear and stowed it aboard the Bazonga. Suddenly a squad of stifflytabarded monitors approached, surrounding them. "What seems to be the trouble, officer?" inquked the Illusionist, affably. "It has been reported to headquarters that you and your companions committed numerous indiscretions during the nocturnal period, stranger," the leader of the squad replied. "I fear they are sufficiently serious to requke you to accompany me to the constabulary. Come along quietly, now." And, so saying, he took the old magician firmly but politely by the arm. " 'Indiscretions?'" repeated the Illusionist incredulously. "That's not true at all! We were remarkably discreet, considering the behavior of the local citizenry; why* we neither engaged in a brawl, nor got drunk, nor bothered any of the women! On the whole, we THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 25 behaved with what I might term considerable decency and restraint!" "Those are, to be precise, the very counts listed against you," said the officer sternly. "You are accused ot nocturnal sobriety, continence, pacifism and public decency. Come along now; I don't want to have to clap you in chains." Flustered, arguing volubly all the way, the magician was led off with Xarda in the dkection of a large structure towards the center of the city. 4. UN-DISTURBERS OF THE PEACE The central edifice into which the civil monitors conducted the Illusionist of Nerelon and the girl knight of Jemmerdy turned out to be the Administratium of the city. They were led into a domed rotunda where three odd-looking officials sat at square wooden desks piled high with papers. The first official, a lank, gloomy-faced individual with thin, tight lips and an expression on his face as if he sensed a singularly repugnant odor, looked them up and down with sour disapproval stamped on his long horsy face. "Outlanders, I perceive!" he grumbled. "Always getting into trouble. Foreign riffraff! Ban the lot of ye one of these days, if ye're not careful. The count?" "Failure to disturb the peace during the nocturnal period, my lord Nurdix," said the monitor, snapping to attention. The man at the second desk, a pudgy, sallow-skinned little man with a bald, round head and squinting, gelid eyes, snapped his fingers loudly. "Be precise, fellow, when you address the Triumvir Nurdix! The full list of particulars, if you please!" "Sorry, my lord Glastro," said the officer, whereupon he began to crisply rattle off a roster of crimes which the Illusionist and his Mends had not committed. Since they had been guilty of no crimes whatsoever, the list was extraordinarily lengthy. It began, in alphabetical order, with Abandonment of Spouse or Offspring, Fail- THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 27 ure to Commit Same; Abberation, Sexual, Lack of; Abjuration of Sworn Oaths, Refusal to Do So; Abortion, Non-, and so on. The recital took forever, or anyway it seemed like forever. At about the time the monitor had got to Defenestration, Anti-, or failure to throw anybody out of the window, a second squad entered the hall lugging the unconscious form of Ganelon Silvermane. The third Triumvir, who had yet to be heard from, eyed the slumbering giant curiously. This third ruler, Petraphar by name, was a gray and mousy little wisp of a man with a soft, purring voice, veiled, elusive eyes and an annoying habit of constantly rubbing his hands together in a washing motion. "Oh, my, and another one!" he lisped breathily. "That is correct—the bill of particulars does mention three of them. Goodness! Three nocturnal malefactors on the same day! A new record, I do believe. Tell me, captain, did the big man, ah, vigorously oppose his arrest?" "You might say so, my lord," replied the captain through a mouthful of broken teeth. "A whiff of the sleep-gas laid him out, however; and the boys will be just fine, the Surgeon informs me, in a week or two at most." "My, my! Well, just lay him down over there. Pray continue with the counts, lieutenant!" The Illusionist cleared his throat. "If it please the court, I believe "we can dispense with the full list of crimes which we unfortunately failed to commit. If your honors please, we are willing to concede ourselves guilty of, ahem, not committing every crime in, ah, the book. Except possibly for Ogling in the First Degree, which we did quite a bit of last night, heh hen!" The Triumvirs were not amused. "Ogling is not a crime, merely a misdemeanor!" snapped glum Nurdix fiercely. "That will do, lieutenant; leave the document of complaint with the registrar on your way out. Smartly, now!" The officer saluted and turned on his heel. The Illusionist stepped forward and began speaking amiably. 28 Lin Carter "If it please the court, I should like to point out that in no other country or city known to me, is the failure to commit a crime a culpable offence—" "The customs in foreign realms have no bearing on the present case, sir," puffed fat Glastro imperturbably. Behind his veil of lilac vapor, the Illusionist blinked thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps not, but your honors will realize that, as mere peaceful travelers, visitors to your fair city, just passing through, we had no fore-knowledge of the peculiarly Chxian criminal code—" "Ignorance of the law is no excuse," whispered pallid little Petraphar, rubbing his hands together. "But—surely, your honors can't hold us to blame for breaking a law so unheard-of as to be unexpected! How could we possibly have known—?" Law-abiding travelers should make a point of inquiring into the local statutes upon the moment of entering a city," said Nurdix shortly. "Are we agreed, then, brothers?" "Aye! Guilty as charged," said the others hi a chorus. "But—but—see here—you can't—" spluttered the Illusionist helplessly, as the monitors led him out of the room and down to the dungeons below the Adininis-tratium. *'Can't we, indeed?" smirked Glastro, in the ensuing silence. The other .two Triumvirs laughed. For a city as grim, colorless and dour as Chx—by day-time, at least—where even the inns provide few of the creature comforts, it would be folly to expect the jails to be comfortable. And, true to form, they were not. Furnished only with a wooden bench, a tin pot, and a pile of straw, they were harshly utilitarian. "But at least it's a clean cell," said Xarda brightly, trying to put the best face on things. Grumbling and grexing, the old magician slumped in a corner and refused to be cheered up. Still unconscious from the sleep-inducing vapor, the bronze giant lay on the floor, snoring stertorously. Seeing that she was not going to perk up the Illusionist with ease, the girl knight strolled about the stark little stone cubicle, eventually going over to the barred grille that served as a door. She tested the bars and found them firm; tried the lock and discovered it to be new, well-oMed and quite solid. Even Xarda could not help heaving a little dispirited sigh. "I gather you are strangers to Chx?" said a male voice in a pleasing tenor. She looked up in surprise to find a tall, well-set-up young man standing at the door of the cell directly across the corridor. He was tanned and handsome in a well-bred way, with a finely-shaped head and clear-cut, if rather delicate, features. But his arms were admirably muscular and his shoulders strong-enough looking, which belied the slight delicacy she detected. His legs and torso were clothed in close fitting steel mesh, over which he wore the tattered remnants of a surcoat emblazoned with an heraldic emblem unfamiliar to her. Catching her eye, he smiled pleasantly. Xarda frowned, then, with a slight shrug, decided to smile - back. "Strangers, by my halidom!" she swore bitterly. "Jailed for the non-commission of every crime in the book. And yourself, good sir?" "Another un-disturber of the peace," he smiled. Then, making a courtly bow, he said: "Pray permit me to introduce myself, madam! Erigon of Valardus, at your service." "I am the Sirix Xarda of Jemmerdy, and my companions in misfortune are.a friendly magician called the Illusionist of Nerelon—for he seems to have no other name than that—and Ganelon Silvermane, the Hero of Uth, formerly of Zermish-city in the Realm of the Nine Hegemons." "Good-day, then, to you all," said the young man amiably. "I fear your places of origin are unknown to me, perchance even as mine realm of Valardus be unknown to you . . ." 30 Lin Carter "Yes," the girl knight nodded, ""I was about to ask you where Valardus was." "Far to the north of here, beyond the Purple Plains, lieth my unhappy kingdom." "Wherefore unhappy, sir?" asked Xarda, falling in with the young man's slightly antiquated mode of speech, which almost exactly suited her own. "Alas, the fair glades and dells of gleaming Valardus now groan 'neath the tyrant's heel," he said, somewhat dramatically. "Oh? What tyrant is that?" asked the knightrix. "Zaar, as he calls himself. The Warlord, as his followers term him, in all their grim and martial myriads. 'Tis a mighty horde of savages, come wandering down from further north to ramp and roar through the tiny kingdoms of the lands Valardine . . . said Barbarians having over-run my realm, and tossed me forth upon the winds of chance, a homeless wanderer, who once upon a time could claim the very princely coronal—" Xarda cleared her throat a bit impatiently; this old-fashioned roundabout way of talking was all very grand and stately in its way, but not ideally suited to the succint imparting of information. "Do you mean you're a Prince?" she demanded. The chiseled features of the young man looked faintly pained at such curt inquiry, but he nodded. "Prince Erigon of Valardus," he admitted. "Or such at least I was when Good King Vergus held the throne! My hereditary throne!" She looked blank. "My late father," he added. "Oh," she said. Along towards noon, a jailer came shuffling down the corridor to ladle a greasy and unappetizing stew into tin dishes from a common bucket. He eyed the knightrix primly, thin lips clamped shut in an expression of sour disapproval, failing to reply to several questions she asked of him. Among these were, "What are they going to do to us, and When?" By this time, the old magician had recovered much of his good-humor and tackled the cold stew with a THE ENCHANTRESS OF WORLD'S END 31 degree of zest the girl knight found repulsive and annoying. She had noticed, on similar occasions how the Illusionist seemed to virtually thrive on hardships, perils and adventures. He had once explained that after a long, fairly dull and uneventful career of magicianhoo