D&D 5E Tap Tap Tap

[Rylnethaz]

The way back to the castle was uneventful. Well, apart from another ground lobster incident that lead to another ground lobster feast in Overbridge.

“The citizens of this town have really started to like us,” said Clotbert.

“Of course they do,” Fingers replied, “Who wouldn't like us Clotbert, we bring food every time we pass by.”

Finally they reached the castle. The people that had been chosen to staff the castle were working tirelessly. Those that had been chosen for guard duty were trained by the two elven swordsmen.

The treasures were all moved to the castle treasury and now, in the grand hall, Rylnethaz, BoldItalic, Clotbert and Fingers were standing around the table, with the sword that had been found in the chest laid right in the middle of the table. The sword had a silver hue and at the seat of the blade was an Elven rune meaning 'weapon'.

“Well, what are you waiting for, cast the spell, we are dying to find out about the sword,” said Fingers to BoldItalic.

“Patience is a virtue but you are right, here it goes,” and with that, BoldItalic cast a spell of divination on the sword.

“Its name is Aryvelahr, it can grant you a giant’s strength for a while if you command it. It can also spawn a swarm of blades around you forming a lethal blade barrier for a brief time if you so choose. You should be careful with this, its blade is keen beyond measure. It will only accept elves and even then, you must pass its test to control it.”

“There is no time like now,” said Rylnethaz and he grasped the sword quickly and resolutely. There was a long silence as weapon and wielder were measuring each other. Then, the air filled with electricity and sparks crawled up and down the length of the blade. Rylnethaz slashed the air left and right to get his grip accustomed to his new sword, the air crackling with power. Then he commanded the electrical current to dissipate and come back to full power again. Then with almost trembling voice he declared, “My beloved friends, this is indeed my sword.”

 

[BoldItalic]

A few days passed.

"Oh!, I didn't see you there," said Clotbert, "It's a fine view, up here on the battlements, isn't it?"

"Er, yes," replied BoldItalic distractedly. "Sorry if I startled you. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up here."

"Are you alright? We haven't seen much of you these last few days since we got back. I looked into your chambers a few times. I want you to come and see what I've done with the shrine."

BoldItalic mumbled something about being tired. "It's the new scrolls we found. I've been up all night trying to decipher them. There's one I just can't make any headway with." He shook his head. "Maybe I do need a break. Come and show me your shrine." Then he took Clotbert by the arm and flourished his staff.

"That's neat," said Clotbert. "Quicker than walking."

"It's a Dimension Door spell," said BoldItalic simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "As you say, it saves walking." He yawned. "Takes it out of you, though." He looked around. "The statue looks well, there on the altar. I like the lighting effect. Just the right shade of purple."

"You must come here to Myrristra's shrine whenever you feel tired," suggested Clotbert. "Perhaps She will guide your thoughts as She does mine."

"If She could decipher this scroll for me, I'd be her disciple for life. But it doesn't work that way, does it? 'The gods help those who help themselves', as Fingers is apt to say, although I think he puts a different slant on the words."

"Let's try. Do you have the scroll with you? Place it up the altar and light one of the sticks of incense in the silver chalice you so generously donated. Then join me in prayer. Recite the words after me."

They prayed together for a short time, then Clotbert opened a massive tome that was placed on a lectern nearby and read out a spell of communion with Myrristra. As if in answer, a faint breeze like a sigh of wind ruffled the hangings and the light changed subtly so that the scroll seemed to stand out against the dark tone of the velvet altar cloth. BoldItalic went forward and picked it up. It unfurled itself in his hands and the writing danced before his eyes. He was dumbfounded. Then he laughed. "No wonder I couldn't read it. It's not meant for wizards at all," he said. "This one is for you."

Clotbert took the scroll and saw what was written there. "Myrristra be praised," he said, "this is a Scroll of Recall. I must prepare this shrine as a sanctuary. In dire need, if we are trapped or close to disaster, I can bring us all instantly back here to safety. But only once."

"If things are that bad, once will be enough," replied BoldItalic wryly. "All praise to Myrristra in her generosity. But it bodes not well. Do you not see, my friend? That she has given us this, suggests that she sees a future for us and the king that is so fraught with peril that we might one day need it. Let us hope that we do not, and we succeed in whatever endeavours are to come."

Clotbert agreed and said a short prayer of hope and cheerfulness. "May the future be bright and may the king achieve glory."

 

[BoldItalic]

Dinner that evening was a sumptuous affair and all agreed that the new cook had surpassed herself. At the end, there was an air of expectation. King Rylnethaz rose to his feet and rapped three times on the table.

[ Rap! Rap! Rap! yelled the audience ]

There was a hush and he began to speak. "My friends, the time has come for me to venture into the Abyss and destroy the chaos engines at their roots. This, I have undertaken to do and it is my sworn duty, though it will be perilous and I may not return. I would be glad of your company, each and every one of you, but no one should feel compelled to join me. It is for you to decide where your destiny lies. What say you?"

"You won't get far without a wizard," said BoldItalic. "You won't even reach the Abyss without spells to cross the planes, let alone fight demons and destroy the machines. Don't happen to know any wizards, do you?" He had a twinkle in his eye as he said this; and, for a joke, made a huge rainbow-coloured hand appear in the air above him, that turned slowly and pointed a finger, jabbing downwards meaningfully at himself. He pretended to be mystified by what everyone else was laughing at, looked around as if puzzled, looked left, looked right, looked under the table, then finally looked up and pretended to be startled. "Why, goodness me!" he said, "What a give-away!"

"Tackling demons is work for the clergy," offered Clotbert. "Any expedition to the Abyss has to include a priest. It's in the rules somewhere. Especially ones involving chaos engines. I've been directed by the arch-priest himself to go with you. I have a letter somewhere." He patted his pockets vaguely, as if trying to remember where he had put a letter.

"But you are the arch-priest?"

"A mere technicality."

Rylnethaz glanced at Fingers, who looked a little shifty and avoided his gaze. "Of course, we can't all go," continued the king smoothly, seeing the way the wind was blowing. "Someone has to stay here and make arrangments for our return. There's a coronation to organise; no doubt the traders in Overbridge will want to be involved. Caterers, flag-sellers, that sort of thing? Money changing hands? I'm looking at you, Fingers?"

Fingers nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. "Publicity, sponsorship deals, contracts, rewards for services rendered, that sort of thing? Leave it to me. You'll have a happy, not to say prosperous, kingdom to come back to afterwards."

"I knew I could rely on you. How does 'Court Munificer' sound as a title?"

"Your majesty is too gracious," replied Fingers with a bow.

The three met at dawn in the castle courtyard. Rylnethaz was resplendent in his red armour and bore his new sword Aryvelahr proudly. BoldItalic had trimmed his beard for a change and was carrying a long thin, wrapped bundle from which the occasional muffled protest emerged. Clotbert was armed and armoured as always and wore a pack on his back in which he carried various books and scrolls that he thought he might need.

"Are we ready? Then let us begin," said Rylnethaz.

Just then, Tharivol came running up and saluted. "Reporting for duty, sir. Captain Heian is now in command of the garrison. I am to accompany you and assess the military situation on the ground. In the Abyss. In the event that we need to fight our way in and out. Sir!"

"Quiólan Berénibar!," replied the king, clapping his fellow elf on the back.

The scene changed ...

 

[BoldItalic]

A strange feeling encompassed the four, as if they were falling without moving. The sky darkened and took on a leaden hue and a miasma that stank of death and decay seemed to rise from the ground at their stumbling feet. The castle became a parody of itself, as if the stones were merely heaped grey snow that had begun to thaw. It was like a nightmare, but one that they were all sharing.

"What is happening?" cried Clotbert, pulling out a flask of holy water and sprinkling it about vaguely, "I feel the presence of a great evil and very close by!"

As if in answer, Tharivol screamed when the holy water touched his flesh and his face became the face of a demon, hideously twisted and distorted. The Demon-that-was-Tharivol spoke mockingly. "Puny elflings, you are in my domain now! Be afraid! Your swords will not avail you! Your spells have no power here!"

BoldItalic was dismayed as his own staff writhed in his hand and became a serpent that sought to sink its fangs into him. He hoped fervently that they were in the grip of a powerful illusion and that all this was not real. He held fast and spoke a counter-spell. His staff became a staff again and Tharivol dropped to the ground like a broken doll, writhing and crying out unintelligibly. But yet the castle did not become solid nor did the air become wholesome.

"We seem to be in the Abyss, or somewhere very like it," the wizard announced, "But this is none of my doing. I know not how we came here."

"Well," said Rylnethaz pragmatically, "If the demons have brought us here for reasons of their own, it serves our purposes nonetheless. Let us go forth." With that, he drew his sword Aryvelahr and held it before him as if it were a torch, shining out in a hideous darkness.

Suddenly, Tharivol sprang to his feet, drew his own sword and struck out at the king. The two blades clashed and there was a flash of intense white light. The lesser blade shattered and Aryvelahr swung free in a mighty sweep that severed head from shoulders. The corpse that had been Tharivol fell to the ground, spraying green ichor from its stump of a neck. As it touched the earth it collapsed inwards on itself with a hideous squelching sound and became a heap of wriggling maggots.

Clotbert looked on in horror and was about to make a blessing for the dead when Rylnethaz stayed him. "Save your pity," he said dourly. "That is not an elf."

They watched as the maggots fell to devouring each other until only a single bloated monstrosity remained, like a quivering grey-green slug covered in filthy slime. With a heave, it burrowed into the ground and was gone.

"Let that be a warning to us all," said Rylnethaz grimly, "That in this foul place, nothing is what it seems. Now, we have a task to perform. We need to locate a place where the pillars that feed the chaos engines reach up into the sky. Any ideas, O Vizier?"

"If directions have any meaning, and distances are the same here as elsewhere, it should be some miles to the east," thought BoldItalic. "But in truth, I cannot be sure. It could be anywhere."

"Then let us try first to the eastwards."

After some hours, cresting a rise, they thought they could see brazen columns far away in the distance but it was hard to make them out in the murky atmosphere. But before that, lay a great lake of turgid water. Bubbles of foul marsh gas broke the surface here and there, sending ripples across the oily surface. As they watched, a hideous bird the size of a heron flapped down clumsily to seize something in the water but a mass of tentacles rose up, grasped it and pulled it struggling to its doom.

"Well, we have no boat and we cannot swim in those waters," said Rylnethaz. "We will have to go around by the shore."

"The ground is higher yonder," observed BoldItalic, pointing to a low range of hills to the north. "If the lake does empty into a river, I fancy that will be on the lower side, south of here. Crossing a river could be as problematic as crossing the lake itself, so we should avoid that side and risk the hills."

"An excellent analysis," agreed the king. "Let us hope that the hills are just hills."

 

[Rylnethaz]

“There is at least one thing in this demonic abduction that should cheer us up you know,” Rylnethaz said with a smile.

“Oh, is there? There is something cheerful in the Abyss?” asked BoldItalic. Clotbert also looked puzzled.

“Well, yes, the demon-Tharivol got us here fast and stayed with us, at least until we dispatched him that is. He could have instead stayed back in the castle causing all sorts of trouble while we were trying to find our way here. Which reminds me, BoldItalic would you please try sending a message back to Fingers about it. He might have to take measures against future infiltration attempts. Also highly unlikely but he should check on Heian as well.”

“Yes, that is prudent, I will try it at my earliest opportunity when we stop for a rest. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right, let’s go then, those hills aren't getting any closer by themselves.”

They pressed on for quite a while, their steps heavy on the rotten moldy surface of the ground. It was tiresome and depressing as if the place tried to sap the energy out of any visitor. Hour had passed and the pillars or what looked like the pillars did not seem to get any closer. They had entered the hilly area a few hours ago. Coming on top of the next hill they saw some ruins on top of the next one.

“We should scout this place over there and maybe make camp for the night,” BoldItalic said when he saw the ruins.

“Yes, this location seems like it could shelter us for a while, Clotbert you could conjure some food for us when we get there.”

“Then let’s hurry, my stomach is killing me,” Clotbert replied.

After a quick search the place seemed safe enough for a camp. The three adventurers set up their camp and started eating. Not long after they had finished their meal, a droning sound came closer. Above them came to float a large creature that looked like an oversized 3 meter long fly. Shapes around the ruins started getting closer too, thin lanky horned black creatures that closed in among the ruins.

“They do not seem to attack,” Clotbert observed, “it is strange. Might be that they want something?”

“All three of us is what they most probably want, if that carriage over there is any indication,” BoldItalic pointed to a large obscene carriage with at least 20 people on it, all shackled.

“Great,” Rylnethaz exclaimed, “just what we needed now, a press gang for the Blood War. Also the Chasme above us overseeing the ‘voluntary recruitment’ is not making things any better.”

"Your late fiancée would have been of help here," BoldItalic commented.

"Yeah but we would never be sure on whose side she would be on. We wouldn't even be sure we knew all the sides too with that dominating snake among us."

"On second thought, you are right, she is better off rotting at the bottom of that well."

"Please don't speak ill of the dead," Clotbert interjected.

At that moment the Chasme made a slightly louder and annoyed droning sound, interrupting the conversation.

 

[BoldItalic]

"This is going to be difficult," mumbled BoldItalic, frowning. "I'm going to try to take out that buzzing thing before it gets really annoying. Hold off the others if you can." He moved the tip of his staff slowly around in circles while reciting the words of a spell that had a breathless quality to them. There was a shimmering in the air nearby. A whirlwind sprang up from nowhere. In the middle of the whirlwind, a creature seemed to form.

"What is that you are doing?" cried Clotbert.

"An air elemental," said BoldItalic, "It's called 'Flaaah' which means 'Hurricane' in the Auran tongue." Speaking in a whisper, he commanded Flaaah to attack the chasme that buzzed overhead. They fought. Flaaah swept up to engulf the demon and spun it upside down so that it crashed to the ground on its back. The buzzing stopped as the demon struggled to right itself, slashing feebly with its long pointed snout. Again, it was flung away, its airy nemesis engulfing it where it lay, but it rallied somehow and the elemental shed vortices and was diminished. BoldItalic winced, for this spell had been his mightiest effort and all depended on it. A howl like a storm struck the demon twice, knocking it high into the air and Flaaah pursued it still, throwing it again to the ground. The demon burst asunder and, with a despairing wail, was gone.

Meanwhile, Rylnethaz had drawn Aryvelahr and stood a little apart to ward off the horned demons that were all around. One came too close and was struck down instantly as Rylnethaz called forth powers from within himself that he barely knew existed. He seemed to glow with a fierce inner light that burned away the shadows and seeing this, several of the demons fled howling. Clotbert sensed that some holy power was at work within the king and marveled. This was a side of the elf that he had not before witnessed and he made a short prayer of thanks to Myrristra.

Rylnethaz advanced and fought demon after demon. Several tried to overbear him but they were poorly coordinated without the command of the chasme and he threw them off. They perished as his sword scythed through them. Soon, it was all over.

In the quiet that followed, Flaaah became as gentle as an autumn breeze and playfully ruffled BoldItalic's hair. It would stay, for a while.

"What of the prisoners in the carriage?" asked Clotbert. "Should we release them?"

"They are the souls of the dead," replied Rylnethaz in judgement, "The souls of the damned. In this benighted place, to show them any form of mercy would be like imposing the most hideous form of torture upon them. We should leave them where they are. After all, there is no urgency about their plight. They have all eternity." So saying, he scanned the faces of the monstrosities in the carriage. One seemed slighter than the others, perhaps a female, perhaps an elf. He looked into her eyes, wondering what great evil she must have committed for her soul to be brought here to the abyss. There was a hopelessness there, but still a faint hint of defiance. With a shock that shook him to the core, he recognised her. It was Infántilë.

 

[Rylnethaz]

“I guess it was fitting for you to end up here, ‘dear’,” said Rylnethaz stressing the word ‘dear’ in purpose.

Her face showed only the faintest glint of anger but it was there for sure. <And I hope you rot here with me for ever and ever dear,> was her answer in a raspy otherworldly and reverberating voice.

“I see that all that time you have spent lain on the bottom of the well has made you more willing to share your true emotions with other people, good for you! Not much use of it now that you are dead though but still, it is a long way from the self-centred and manipulative daddy’s girl we all know and despise!”

<I did not deserve this, you would have loved me in the end, you just did not want to see this. You would come live with me and my father and we would have been happy.>

“No, you would have been happy and I would wither slowly in my golden cage. I don’t like been mind-controlled.”

<Then I hope this place feasts on your bones, yours and the bones of that damned friends of yours.>

“Calm now, let’s not take things too far. You are taking this all the way to the Abyss you know!”

“Rylnethaz, maybe we should go now,” BoldItalic said, “we don’t want any more unwanted attention.”

 

[BoldItalic]

"You are right, as always," replied Rylnethaz. "We have tarried too long here. Let us move on and try to circle the lake."

They left the carriage of lost souls to their eternal sojourn, and with it the erstwhile princess. Sir Rylnethaz felt that a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he began to sing, though his cheerfulness was in stark contrast to the dreary tone of their surroundings. After a time the sky turned yellow and it began to rain, heavily and persistently. They splashed through runnels of water in muddy ground that stank of death.

Clotbert pointed to the sky. Seven creatures like monstrous four-legged birds were flying across their path, heading for the lake to roost. Their plumage was of a sickly green hue and they croaked like frogs as they flew. He took it as an ill omen, and said so. "An ill omen it may be," agreed Rylnethaz, "for there is no good fortune for any creature in this place and we are not special in that regard. Who knows? Perhaps for those birds themselves, the sight of three mortals walking the abyss bodes ill." Clotbert was bemused. "I hadn't thought of it like that," he admitted.

They trudged on in silence for a while and came to a place where the ground had washed away leaving a steep drop of some hundred feet that blocked their path. Yet it was no great difficulty; with the help of a little of BoldItalic's magic, they floated safely down to the bottom. There they found a cave of sorts that afforded some shelter from the rain, so they made a fire and cooked some hot food. BoldItalic conjured a magic watchdog that would bark loudly if any creatures came near. He also revealed that he still had the Elodíniel vase carefully stowed in his pack. He unwrapped it and set it before them, handling it with great care. "I thought this might prove useful," he said. "I have but to sound it and speak the magic phrase for it to reveal the presence of any demons nearly. Let us hope that we do not need it tonight."

Alas, it was not to be. In the middle of what passed for night they were roused by a furious barking from the watchdog. Fiendish creatures were close by in the shadows and one was unsuccessfully trying to avoid the watchdog's fangs. Rylnethaz leapt up and drew his sword Aryvelahr as Clotbert wove a protective circle of holy water. BoldItalic tried to guess what form of demon they were facing. "Should I use fire or lightning?" he asked urgently. "I don't know," was all Clotbert could say. "I don't know what they are!" So BoldItalic seized his vase and sang out "Alómerian Quen Ty Bérian!" wherupon a light shone forth and revealed three hideous demons that seemed to be made of the very stuff of darkness. They were dismayed by the light of the vase that BoldItalic was holding and moved to rake him with their claws, seeking to knock if from his grasp. "Shadow Demons!" he cried as he dodged their outstretched talons, and quickly caused his staff to shine as bright as day. They shifted and flickered, trying to avoid the glare, but were not driven back.

Rylnethaz attacked one and called on all the gods of the elves to aid him. Aryvelahr criss-crossed inside its shape and a burst of energy exploded inside it, seeming to turn it inside out. It fled at great speed and in the blink of an eye was gone.

Then things went badly.

Clotbert began an incantation but faltered and could not complete it. Childhood fears of the dark suddenly came flooding back and he was utterly unmanned. His stammer returned. "M-M-Mys-s-s-" was the best he could utter. Frantic, he began wildly swinging his mace to fend of a demon that was clawing at his head. Have you ever tried to beat your own shadow with a stick? It doesn't work, does it? Your shadow is still there except that now, it is holding a stick too. It was like that for Clotbert. He winced and whimpered as foul claws lacerated his unprotected face.

BoldItalic moved to protect Clotbert but in so doing dropped his guard and the other demon swooped upon him. He just had time to throw up a protective shield of arcane energy but it availed him naught and he was inflicted with a blow that seemed to sap his will and befuddle his mind. Lack of sleep and the stress of the adventure took its toll and fatigue overwhelmed him. The light from his staff flickered and went out. The shadows grew.

Then things went better.

Rylnethaz was dismayed to see what was happening to his friends and redoubled his efforts. If there ever was a time to use the power of Aryvelahr it was now, else all would be lost. He spoke a single word. Like a silent thunderclap, waves of bliss burst forth from the enchanted blade. The demons vanished. They didn't flee, they didn't become invisible, they weren't hidden from view, they just no longer existed. Rylnethaz murmured his thanks and the gems on the sword hilt seemed to twinkle in mirth. It was for this that they were made.

But things were not as good as they once were.

BoldItalic was exhausted and sank to the ground. Clotbert could only stammer and his eyes were as round as saucers, as he had been when Rylnethaz first met him in the Crown and Unicorn so long ago. "I don't suppose you have a dispel stammer spell, or a restore speech, do you, BoldItalic?" asked Rylnethaz. But BoldItalic only shook his head. "Sorry," he mumbled, "No spells. Must sleep."

"We have a problem, Myrristra," announced Rylnethaz. But there was no divine reply. The rain continued to rain.

 

[Rylnethaz]

“Then it seems that we either stand and recover here, or we die here! So be it! Rest, both of you, I will stand guard.”

The night was long and torturous for ahead in the distance demonic cries could be heard constantly. Apparently a demonic gathering was in process. Once every while, a panicked scream would be heard, apparently a victim and then the exhilarated savage cries would resume almost endlessly. It was many times that Rylnethaz thought that this would be the end and he should never have brought his friend to such a place. However, as if by divine favour, the rest of the night was uneventful.

The next day Clotbert was a little better but not much so.

“What do you think BoldItalic?”

“He seems to have lost his faith in himself and the world somehow. If he could somehow believe again that we can vanquish the darkness he would recover.”

“Then we will give it back to him. Even in this place. We are the light bringers. And our light brings death and dismay to the demonic filth.” As Rylnethaz said that is was as if a strange imperceptible light shone on them and then it was gone. Clotbert seemed to get slightly better.

Clotbert asked fearfully but with a hint of hope, “c-c-can we m-m-mak-make any diff-ere-ence here?”

“You will see soon enough. Even though we might not be able to always eradicate these demons, we can surely punish them and provide comfort to their victims. By the ancestors you will see that soon enough.”

BoldItalic looked at Rylnethaz more than a little worried. “If you were not an elf I would attribute your words to lack of sleep. What do you mean?”

“Not far from here, a demonic ritual and feast must have taken place. I could hear the victims’ cries all night. They are surely beyond saving now but we can offer them a quick and honourable death instead of what soul-crashing future lies ahead of them. Of course we will have to deal with the demons surrounding them first so we’d better hurry. Let’s go, you and I will show Clotbert the light he needs to see and believe again, prepare your spells!”

 

[BoldItalic]

After a time, they spied a rag-taggle group of demons of all shapes and sizes, moving ahead of them. The demons were listlessly following a well-worn trail as if compelled by some inner force towards ... something. That 'something' was a strange edifice that was so warped that it boggled the mind just to look at it. The structure was half like a small fortress and half like a grove of lifeless trees and half like neither. But whatever it was, it was clear that the brass columns rose upwards from it, into the sky.

"There is another group of demons moving away from the building, off to the right," remarked Rylnethaz. "Hard to make out at this distance, but they seem to be leaping about and wrestling each other. If I didn't know they were demons, I'd believe they were happy."

"Something is wrong here," said BoldItalic looking puzzled and trying to reason it out. "Unhappy demons approach the building then leave it happy. Is it feeding them? Surely not, for demons do not eat, not as we understand it. Yet they are being recharged with some kind of vital essence that they crave. What is the essence that sustains demons? They are creatures of pure chaos."

"The essence of Chaos? Is there such a thing? Drawn down from those brass pipes like an upside-down well?" offered Rylnethaz.

BoldItalic looked strangely at the elf, then smote his own brow as if insight had suddenly dawned. He looked visibly shaken. "Arh! How could I be so blind? My friend, I fear I have led you astray in a most terrible fashion. Gods forgive me, we nearly made a most awful mistake."

"Be careful, my friend, a vizier who makes a mistake is something of a liability," said Rylnethaz. He was half in jest but only partly so. A king has responsibilities, after all. "You had better explain."

"The chaos engines that the gnomes were tending? They are not drawing chaos up from here in the abyss and spreading it over our world, as I once told you. I was utterly wrong, it is quite the opposite. They are cleansing our world of chaos and pumping it down here where the demons thrive on it. We are looking at the bottom of a sewer. The sewer into which runs all the madness of our own world, sucked out like a leech sucking out poison from a wound."

"I see. So destroying the machines, as I am sworn to do on your advice, would not be so good after all?"

"Regrettably, that is so."

"And you came to this conclusion now, after sleeping overnight in the abyss?"

"Yes ... but ..."

"This place has unhinged your mind."

"I do not think so."

"You wouldn't, would you?"

BoldItalic paused for thought. "I see your point," he conceded. He looked bleak. "If I cannot trust my own mind, I am lost. I must know. But how can I know?"

"D-D-Divination," suggested Clotbert.

BoldItalic saw the sense of that and drew from a pocket seven short sticks of ivory and a miniature book of closely written text and strange diagrams. The others looked on with interest. He enunciated a single, very precise question and held it in his mind as he performed the divination. Seven times he threw the ivory sticks in the air and caught them on the back of one hand, studying the patterns that they made each time. Then he said, as if to himself, "Pilgrim - Curse - Vixen - Chain - Essence - Fang - Pulpit." and riffled through the pages of his book. He looked perplexed, and double-checked. Then he heaved a great sigh.

"What does it mean?" asked Rylnethaz anxiously.

BoldItalic took a flask of cordial out of another pocket and drank deeply. A wild look came into his eye and he began to talk very loudly. "I am insane," he began, "but not in the way we thought. I might have to give up wizarding." And so saying, he sat down heavily on the ground and turned into a rose bush.

"That's not helping," said Rylnethaz.