4.

 

 

 

THERE WAS HEAVY SILENCE IN THE GREAT HALL AT SWER SMOD. Murgen stood immobile by the table; Shimrod leaned against the wall. On the table the Joald simulacrum lay inert. The splintered bones of the weasel skeleton lay in a heap, showing no vitality save for the glitter of two black eyes. On the table the blade of the hatchet-halberd had altered, swelling and becoming first globular, then gradually taking on the semblance of a human face.

After a moment Murgen turned toward Shimrod. He spoke in a heavy voice. “So now we have known tragedy. I cannot blame myself—but only because I cannot spare the energy. In truth, I fear that I became complacent, even arrogant, in the fullness of my strength and the certainty that no one would dare challenge me. I was wrong, and tragic events have occurred. Still, I may not allow myself to be injured by remorse.”

Shimrod approached the table. “These things—are they still alive?”

“They are alive: Tamurello and Desmëi, and desperately scheming for survival. This time I shall not dally with them and they shall fail.” Murgen went to one of his cabinets and threw wide the doors. He worked at a whirling apparatus and in due course evoked a glare of pink light and a queer fluting voice: “Murgen, I speak across the unthinkable gulf!”

“I do the same,” said Murgen. “How goes your war with Xabiste?”

“Well enough. We ordered the whorl Sirmish and flushed the green from Fangusto. However, at Mang Meeps they came in force, the place is now infested.”

“A pity! But take cheer! I now give you two hybrid demons, Desmëi and Tamurello, both reeking with green.”

“This is a pleasant event.”

“Just so. You may send a tendril to take the pair, and to seek out any sops and seepages of green which they might have exuded.”

For an instant the hall flickered with pink light; when it subsided the hatchet and the pile of bones were gone.

Murgen spoke: “Take the pair to the deepest pits of Myrdal, and seek out the hottest fires. There destroy them utterly, so that not even their last regrets linger in the flux. I will wait to learn of this final disposition.”

“You must be patient!” said the efferent. “A deed worth doing is worth doing well! I shall be at least ten of your seconds, with another two seconds for my ritual cleansing.”

“I will wait.”

Twelve seconds passed. The efferent from Myrdal spoke once more. “The deed is done. Of the two demons neither jot, atom, breath, thought nor tittle remain. The pits of Myrdal burn hot.”

“Excellent!” said Murgen. “I wish you continued success against the green.” He closed the cabinet, and turned back to the table, where he reinforced the bonds which held Joald quiescent.

Shimrod watched with disapproval. “Joald should also be destroyed.”

Murgen spoke in a soft voice. “He is protected. Only this much is allowed to us, and then grudgingly.”

“Who protects him?”

“Some of the old gods still live.”

“Atlante?”

For a long moment Murgen said nothing. Then: “Certain names should not be named and certain topics are best not discussed.”