Dreamlands 5: Questers for Kuranes: Two Tales of Hero and Eldin
Author: Brian Lumley
Date: 2006-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: Final book in the set which collects the remainder of the series including some obscure novellettes and short stories taking place in the Dreamlands! This final edition will also contain a special introduction by Brian Lumley containing story notes on each story in the series and a special A-Z concordance of the series by W. Paul Ganley.
Publisher: Dimension House

Questers for Kuranes:

Two Tales of Hero and Eldin

by Brian Lumley

Dimension House/Delerium Books

(April 2006)

(Published as a 52-copy leather-bound hardcover.)

The Weird Wines of Naxas Niss

Weirdbook 26, Autumn 1991

The Stealer of Dreams

Weirdbook 27, Spring 1992

The Dreamland Series:An A to Z Concordance

The Primal Land Series:An A to Z Concordance
by BY W. PAUL GANLEY

from:

The Brian Lumley Companion

Tor Books NY,  November 2002

Table of Contents

HERO AND ELDIN

The Weird Wines of Naxas Niss

The Stealer of Dreams

CONCORDANCES

The Dreamland Series: An A to Z Concordance

The Primal Land Series: An A to Z Concordance

HERO AND ELDIN

THE WEIRD WINES OF NAXAS NISS

“You pays your money and you takes your chance!” the barker cried. “For the price of admission only, drink as many measures of my priceless magical wines as you can. The measures may be small, but the results can be totally un-be-lievable! Just step inside and a variety of choices are yours. Admission is just one tond—which may seem expensive, until you realize that you’re drinking priceless wines! And for a mere tond you enter, imbibe my measures one at a time but as many as you can, then exit, and you’re back where you started—maybe! But one thing’s certain: you’ll never be the same man again! You pays your money and you takes your chance! One at a time, gents, if you please …”

David Hero and Eldin the Wanderer looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then turned their gaze back to the barker. He was a dapper if somewhat eccentric little specimen of Homo ephemerens, (which is to say, a dreamlander) dressed in a red velvet jacket, green pants which came only halfway down his chubby calves, bright blue socks with their tops thonged to the bottoms of his trousers, like reversed suspenders, and tiny black high-heeled clogs. Tubby enough to be termed rotund, he had a voice to match his girth, but in height came up only so tall as somewhere short of the questers’ shoulders. This meant that while he was a little shorter than most full-grown denizens of dream, it was likely that he’d also be a good deal heavier; one of those rare exceptions where Eldin’s cognomen (it was the Wanderer who’d first coined Homo ephemerens) scarce fitted the subject. No one could be less ephemeral than this one!

But a dreamlander he was, a showman, too, and a barker of no mean prowess to boot—as Eldin’s suddenly dry tongue in his clammy cave of a mouth might readily attest. “What with all his pattering on about his damned wines,” the Wanderer said, as he and Hero elbowed closer to the tent, “and the sun being so hot today and all, I do believe I’m developing a thirst.”

“So what else is new?” Hero grunted, continuing to observe the little showman and his doings.

Beneath his velvet jacket—whose lapels merely flanked the barker’s chest, like the wings of a great plump rooster—he wore a gray silk shirt blazoned with the gold-glowing legend: “Naxas Niss, Exotic Wines!” Niss’ hair was black as coal, grown from a single tuft in the middle of his head, plastered down in a fringe which was cropped uniformly and equidistant from its center at a point just above his bushy black eyebrows and right round to the back of his skull. If he were slimmer, he’d be like the clothespeg men that the children of Celephais painted to look like soldiers, but being fat he looked more like a toy lead-bottomed clown who won’t fall over, because when you knock him down he wobbles upright again. As for his origin: there was that in his accent which said he was probably a Dylath-Leener, but being so radically different he could in fact be from just about anywhere. Indeed, outlandish anonymity might well be his principal disguise!

All in all, a more harmless-seeming, amusing, and amiable little man the questers had never seen, which was just about the last thing they’d expected; for the fact of the matter was that they were here to “bring him in.” Naxas Niss was a criminal; so said King Kuranes, and being king, Kuranes was the boss around here. What’s more, Hero and Eldin were his agents, and very well-paid for it, too.

It was Fair Day in Celephais; which meant nothing very much, for you could find a fair somewhere in the Timeless City almost every other day of the week all year round. A surfeit of fairs, in fact. Not hard to explain, really: Fairs require that people are giving, and at the same time nothing kills them off faster than inclement weather. The people of Celephais were good and giving, the climate invariably kind, and rain extremely rare. So Celephais and fairs went hand in hand. As long as Mount Aran had had its snowy crest, and palms and ginkgos at its foot, and rocky spurs reaching out and sinking into the incredible blue of the Southern Sea, just precisely so long had there been fairs in Celephais; which is to say a very long time indeed.

However, (and as any addict will readily attest) not all fairs are fair fairs, and some are downright unfair. For every fair with shies where coconuts may be won, there’s at least one where they can’t, with more glue in the cups than coconuts! And if the shies are fixed, then it may generally be reckoned that the rest of the fair will follow suit. Word soon gets about, though, and unfairs quickly lose their customers, move on, or go broke. Fairs may therefore be recognized by their great crowds of laughing, jostling, bright-eyed people, while unfairs have surly men out cropping the grass between the various stalls and sideshows. This is nothing new, merely a reminder.

“And yet,” said Hero, out of the corner of his mouth, for he and Eldin were close now to the barker, “this bloke seems to be getting all the customers he can handle.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Eldin answered. “And a good many of ‘em go back for more. There’s one old lad I’ve seen go in the front of that tent and out the back three times already. At a tond a time he’ll soon be broke! So it can’t be a confidence trick’cos no one gets caught on the same hook twice, and certainly not three times! On the other hand, if Niss’s a thief, then what’s he stealing? We’ve been here an hour at least and I haven’t heard a single cry for help, nor yet seen a sign of distress or even discomfort on a single face.”

They thought back on this morning’s message from Kuranes, delivered to them by runner at the tiny garret where they lodged overlooking the wharves. Normally the king would have called them to his ivy-clad Cornish manor house on the city’s outskirts, where a bit of Cornwall went down from the walls to the shore and became a jumble of granite and seaweed called Fang Rocks; but the note explained why on this occasion he had not done so:

Hero, Eldin—

I’ve matters to attend to in Serannian, else I’d speak to you personally. Here’s the problem: nakedness, imprudence bordering on madness, possible fraud and probable theft, and a lot of aimless running about! It’s like a plague, which by the various embarrassments of its nature remains hidden. It has been brought to my attention not by its victims but their wives. The one common factor (malefactor, I suspect) is a man called Naxas Niss in his tent at the fair. Niss works whichever fair suits him, only an hour or two at a time, and pays a fat percentage to the organizers for the privilege. But he never works the same fair on consecutive days, which means he’ll need tracking down. So that’s your job: find him, get the goods on him, and bring him to book in front of Leewas Nith. And let me know how it worked out when I get back. And stay out of trouble!

Yours, Kuranes

Which in a nutshell explains the presence and purpose of the adventurers here, outside Naxas Niss’ tiny, tassled yellow tent.

Hero was the rangy one, quite young, all blond, fond, and smiling, and dressed in russet brown; while Eldin was some years older, thicker-set, long-armed, dark to match his attire and scarred a bit around the face, which made him threatening even when he wasn’t. Late of the waking world, they made a living now as questers in Earth’s dreamlands. They loved each other like brothers (though like most brothers they’d never admit it); loved booze and a good fight, too, and girls even more; if they weren’t such rogues then by now they’d be legends. Rogues they were, however, or roguish, anyway … but in any case they wouldn’t want anyone apologizing for them. Kuranes thought they were good’uns, which just about says it all.

“Something’s wrong, though.” Hero smiled, nodded, and chuckled, as if he engaged the other in light and trivial conversation. “For I’ve been taking note of the people going in—one at a time, you’ve doubtless observed, and each accompanied personally by Niss—not all of whom come out again.”

“Eh?” The Wanderer smiled in his turn. “No, I hadn’t noticed that. But if it’s so, why, then the rest are still inside!” It seemed obvious.

“What, twenty-five in the front and only nineteen out the back?” said Hero, chortling and slapping his thigh. “But there’s hardly room in there for two or three, let alone six. Not and Naxas Niss to boot!”

“What I have just noticed, however,” said Eldin, “is this: that of those who do come out, a third dash off in unseemly haste, in all directions, and all wearing queer expressions. Gone to puke, d’you think?”

Most of the crowd had melted away by now, leaving the pair right up front and quite conspicuous. “How about you, young sir?” said Niss to Hero, pointing his black, gold-tipped cane at him. “Can’t I interest you in my wines? I’ll not be here all day—an hour more at most—so if you’ve a mind to try a tipple, now’s the time, young sir, now’s the time!”

“And my father?” said Hero, who liked to make a lot of the difference in his and Eldin’s ages. “Can he come in, too? See, he’s just this morning in receipt of his pension, and—”

With a low growl, Eldin elbowed him none too gently aside. And to Naxas Niss: “I’m sorry, sir, but the village, er, pumpkin here is in my care.” Stepping back a pace, he made twirling motions alongside Hero’s ear. “Can’t let him out of my sight, if you see what I mean. He, er—he does things, you know.”

“Does things?” Niss looked up at Hero a little warily, considered his peculiar grin, and backed off a pace.

“Too true!” Eldin replied, completely carried away. “Put bats up spinsters’ knickers, piddles in the reservoir, generally annoys his elders and betters.” And tone hardening, and tweaking Hero’s ear: “Indeed, he especially annoys his—”

“We’d gladly come in, by all means.” Hero cut him short, wriggling free of his ear-tweaking, bowing low and with a flourish to Naxas Niss. “And please excuse our horseplay; it was harmless, I assure you, much like my oafish companion here. But you see, we do everything—almost everything, anyway—together. Aye, and we’d dearly love to try out your wines, but not if you can only accommodate us one at a time.” He then went on to explain about fair fairs and unfair fairs, finishing with: “And who’s to say we’d not get nobbled as we stepped inside, eh? Not that I’d hint for one moment that you’re such a blackguard yourself, Naxas Niss, but one can’t be too careful these days. Best to be cautious, that’s what I always say. And so, if my friend and I mayn’t tipple together, why, then we’ll simply take our thirsts to the marquee yonder, where they sell those excellent dark brown ales!”

He and Eldin made as if to move along, but Niss grabbed their elbows. Looking guardedly this way and that, finally he said: “What? I should let you ruin your throats and burn your innards on slop like that? And never know the delights of my exotiques? Unthinkable!”

“Exotiques?” Eldin lifted an eyebrow.

“Antique and exotic both,” Niss explained. “Exotique! Very well, since the crowd’s thinned out a bit, I’ll take the two of you together. But let’s have an understanding, gentlemen. You’ve explained your fear of thuggery, so I’ll explain mine. The reason I normally insist upon only one customer at a time is for fear of just such felons. Not that I would ever believe it of you two, you understand; but in any case. I must insist that once inside you follow my instructions to the letter. Are we agreed?”

Hero and Eldin shrugged, nodded.

“Very well, then it’s this way, gentlemen, please.” And leading them inside, he reversed his Open sign to read Closed—for Now!

What the pair had expected would be hard to say, but it was not what they found. Inside the tent was … the inside of a tent; with a grass floor, a small folding table, and a large locked trunk in one corner. In front of the table stood a folding chair, and another behind it, while upon the table itself:

“Naxas Niss’ weird wines!” said Niss, beaming.

Hero and Eldin stared fixedly at the five bottles on the table, and at the five tiny (oh so tiny) glasses which stood beside them. The bottles were chunky, of clear crystal, and each contained a wine of a different color. There were red, green, white, and golden wines all in a row, and a black one, which stood a little apart. “Mine, that one,” Niss explained. “A potion, a remedy for stomach cramps, purely medicinal, you understand.”

“Right,” said Eldin, approaching the table and rubbing his huge hands. “So what’ll we try first, eh?”

Naxas Niss stepped nimbly between. “Caution, my large and eager friend,” he said. “First your tond, if you please, and then an explanation.”

“I have nothing to explain,” Eldin frowned, forking out.

“But I have,” said Naxas Niss.

“I see no point.” The Wanderer was bemused. “Here’s the wine, openly displayed, and here a bone-dry receptacle.” And he pointed to his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Will you explain how I must tilt the glass into my mouth? I’ve taken wine before, sir, I assure you.”

“But there are wines and there are wines,” purred Naxas Niss. “Except be sure that these wines require something of an explanation.”

Now Hero spoke up, handing over his tond in turn, saying: “Very well, so explain.”

While the pair looked on astonished, Naxas Niss commenced a very nimble jig for a creature his shape while singing:

“It’s a ritual,’ said the little man, ‘now listen and you’ll see,

One wine sends you where you were before you were here,

And one transports you blushing where you most desire to be!

I can guarantee that one wine will guarantee your return,

And the last wine tells which color fits which—

Ah, and turns you color blind in turn!”

He quit dancing, beamed at the would-be bibbers, took a seat behind his table and poured wine from each bottle into its own tiny glass, a thimbleful to each. “Take your pick, my lads,” he said expansively. “For you’ve paid your money, and now you takes your chances.”

“Now hold!” snapped Eldin at once, scowling a little. “That riddle you’ve just riddled seems a strange and sinister thing to me. Are you hinting there’s danger in these wines?”

“Danger?” Naxas Niss drew back his head, tucked in his chin, looked pained. “How so? They change perspectives, that’s all—but all very quickly reverts, I promise you. Sinister? But if my intentions were dishonest, would I warn you in the words of my song? No, of course not! Or perhaps there is an element of danger—to the faint of heart. But to the adventurer born … ? However”—and he shrugged, perhaps disappointedly—“no one can force you to drink. And so, since you no longer desire to avail yourselves of—”

“Hold!” Now it was Hero’s turn to bark, as Niss made as if to pour the wines back into their bottles. He reached out and stayed the little man’s hands. “We’ve paid our money, Naxas, after all.”

“So choose your poison!” said Niss, and at once burst out laughing—and just as quickly sobered. “Why, what is all this? Do you really suppose I’d harm you?”

“Not if you know what’s good for you!” growled Eldin.

“Ah!” said Niss, eyes narrowing, hand straying just a little toward the black bottle. “So you’re a pair of bullyboys after all, eh?”

“No such thing,” said Hero. “We’re cautious, that’s all, as I’ve avowed.”

“Now, look,” said Niss, sighing, as he picked up one of the glasses—with red wine in it—which he at once tossed back! An expression of extreme delight crossed his face, and before it could fade he tilted the red wine bottle and topped up the tiny glass again. “Now, tell me,” he was all innocence, “would I poison myself?”

The questers studied his face for several long moments but he seemed entirely unharmed. “Red it is,” said Eldin then, reaching for the same glass.

“And I’ll go for gold,” said Hero. “For if aught peculiar happens to me, why you’ll still be around to settle the score.”

“Good!” cried Naxas Niss. “We’re getting somewhere at last.”

They drank.

The wine was good, indeed exotique! Niss watched the tipplers with an expression like an Ulthar cat, some of which retire there from the waking world when they’ve spent their nine lives, notably from a place called Cheshire.

Hero said: “Excellent!” And a strange dazed look came into his eyes. “Truly excellent!” he said again, and before Eldin could stop him promptly walked out through the flap in the back wall of the tent. The Wanderer gaped, then dashed after him.

Outside he grabbed Hero, turned him about. “And where, pray, do you think you’re going?”

Hero licked his lips and the vacant look receded. His eyes gradually focused. “Going?” he finally said. “Why, for another drink, of course!”

“Are you all right?” Eldin stared deep into Hero’s eyes.

“Entirely,” Hero nodded. “And you?”

“My eyes sting a bit,” Eldin blinked, “but otherwise—”

“Thank you for your custom, sirs!” cried Naxas Niss, closing the rear flap of his tent on them.

They glanced at each other, gawped, galloped back round to the front just as Niss came out and reversed his sign to read Open. Hero grabbed him by a red velvet shoulder. “Whoa!” he said, dangerously low. “‘Drink as many of my measures as you can,’ you said. And as yet we’ve tried but one.”

Naxas Niss looked astonished. “But … did I ask you to leave? I did not. You walked out of your own free will, and that one ran after you. Now lads, the rules are simple: enter my tent and a tond gets you all you can drink, but once you exit the contract’s broken. Or … p’raps you’d care to try again?”

“Too damned true!” cried Eldin, dragging Hero by the collar back into the tent right on Niss’ heels. And yet again the latter reversed his sign to read Closed—for Now!

“Now sit!” said Eldin, thumping Hero down in the chair in front of the table. “Sit right there, where I can keep an eye on you.” And he stood behind him.

“I can’t think why I left like that.” Hero seemed genuinely astonished. “I certainly didn’t want to. Indeed, I wanted nothing so much as another glass of wine!”

“No problem there,” said Niss, rubbing his hands. “Your tonds, gentlemen, please.” They paid up, however grumblingly. And again Niss went into his song and dance routine:

“Now listen and you’ll see,
You’ll go where you have been,
Or arrive in all innocence where you’d really like to be;
Or you’ll lick your lips and feel the thirst—
And come right on back to me!”

“You missed out the color-blind bit,” said Eldin.

Niss shrugged. “I was in haste,” he explained. “And anyway, I couldn’t make it rhyme.”

Hero looked up at Eldin, and they both looked down at the wines, which Niss had topped up again. “Now, then,” said Eldin to Hero, “you had gold, and apart from acting daft—which isn’t really unusual—you’re okay. So—” And he reached for the red glass again!

Hero put his hand over the glass, stopping him. “That’s red,” he said.

“Eh?” Eldin peered close. “No, no—it’s plainly gold!”

“What, are you color-blind?” Hero cried … and they stared at each other in amaze.

“Or … are you?” said Eldin.

And Naxas Niss grinned.

“What color are my clothes?” Hero demanded.

Eldin glanced at them, cried, “Blue, of course!”—and his mouth at once fell open. “But they should be brown. Which means—I am colorblind!”

“But only temporarily,” said Naxas Niss.

Eldin snapped his fingers. “Hah! But that also means I should know which color’s which. And I do! Green transports you blushing where you most desire to be, and white sends you where you were before you were here. Except, because I’m color-blind, I don’t know which bottle’s which!”

“But I do,” Hero reminded.

“Good!” said Eldin. “So which one’s gold?”

“I don’t see much point in trying gold again,” said Hero, “for I’ve already tried it and ended up back here. It guaranteed my return, d’you see?”

“True,” said Eldin, “but at least we know it’s harmless.”

“Well, if the point of the exercise is not to be harmed,” said Hero, “why drink any of the bloody stuff?”

Eldin, thoroughly confused by now, said, “Eh? Why … because we’ve paid for it, that’s why! Now, then, which one’s gold?”

“That one,” Hero pointed at the green bottle, the while winking at Naxas Niss, who grinned on unabated. For it had dawned on Hero that there was an easy way round the problem, except he needed a guinea pig. Or a not-quite-so-expensive tond pig, as the case was.

Eldin picked up the green glass and stared at it suspiciously. “Gold?”

“Indeed,” said Hero.

“You’re sure you feel okay?”

“Positive,” said Hero. “Me, I’ll try the white.” And white it was.

“Hold!” said Eldin. “That’s green.”

Hero shook his head. “You’re color-blind, remember? It’s white.”

“White?” said Eldin. “But if you drink that you’ll end up where you were before you were here. Like … outside the tent again?”

“That’s how I figure it, yes,” said Hero. “Nothing harmful in that, and all the time we’re narrowing down the field.”

Eldin nodded and they raised the glasses to their lips. And: “Go!” said Eldin. They quickly drank the measures down.

Now, this was Hero’s plan:

They’d tried red and gold. Red made you color-blind and gold sent you staggering about, with a great desire to return. That left green and white. Eldin had swallowed green. He would now be transported (blushing?) where he most desired to be (which with this old pervert might be just about anywhere; Hero dreaded to think!). Hero on the other hand had swallowed white, so he’d likely end up outside the tent again as Eldin had surmised—but nowhere and nothing dangerous, anyway.

The beauty of it was this: that they’d now sampled all of Naxas Niss’ exotiques—except his black medicine, of course. They could probably do him for fraud (forcing folks to come back for more) and possibly even for theft (the way he snapped up tonds must be some kind of theft, Hero felt sure). They might get him for technical aggravated assault, too (making people color-blind and all); but for the life of Hero, he couldn’t see how they could make those other charges of Kuranes’ stick. What, nakedness? Gross imprudence? Aimless running about? He could only hope that all would come to light now that they’d sampled of green and white.

And of course all did come to light, and almost immediately.

Standing behind Hero, Eldin felt suddenly all aflutter. “B’God!” he gasped, and commenced staggering about a little. Hero leaped to his feet—and started running on the spot!

“What? What?” he cried. But he was unable to stop his feet, which went stamp, stamp, stamp, stamp, like a squad of Baharna’s regulators on muster parade.

Then Eldin uttered a very small “Eek!” and fizzled out—quite literally—leaving his good black leather clothes floating on air. Unsupported, they flopped to the floor, loose tonds clinking in their pockets.

“Now, what’s all this, Niss?” Hero snarled, but his feet gave Niss no time to answer. They marched him right out the back door of the tent, and hurried him out of the fairground, and ran him wildly across a dusty road, and raced him frantically down an alley toward the harbor. All the way home, they took him, those rebellious feet, and all the time accelerating; until finally they hurled him upstairs to his and Eldin’s garret room, where at last they came to a halt, smoking and blistered inside his quaking boots. Hero would never know it, but he had done the three-and-a-half-minute mile …

AFTER BATHING HIS FEET in cold water for half an hour, and changing his boots for moccasins, Hero returned limping to the fairground. Eldin arrived a little later, dressed in a white sheet which he’d converted into a passable replica of desert raiment.

“If I thought I might attack you here and now,” said The Wanderer out the side of his mouth and almost conversationally, “without losing my sheet and what’s left of my dignity, you’d be dead in a trice. Or if not exactly dead, badly beaten. Unable to walk, at very least. Likewise, when I find him, Naxas Niss, purveyor of exotiques.” And he gloomed down on the square of flattened grass where recently had stood the yellow tent of that last mentioned.

Hero pointed to his feet, which he could swear steamed visibly through the lace holes of his soft shoes. “As for crippling me,” he growled, “why, I’m already unable to walk! Indeed, I have feet like puddings! So as you can see—and while I admit my behavior left something wanting—I really do consider myself punished quite enough. No major harm done, however, and all wines tasted and effects observed at extremely close quarters. And so—”

They swapped experiences.

Hero’s tale was quickly told, as above, but Eldin’s proved far more interesting. “I drank what I thought was gold,” The Wanderer growled, “but which I now know to have been green, and in the next moment—zzzip!—there I was all naked, and maybe even blushing, in the bed of the young and buxom widow Misha Oosh, owner of the Yellow Yak, where nightly she displays her generous jigglers all bundled up in their blue silk blouse behind the bar.”

Hero nodded knowingly. “So that’s why we’ve been drinking in the Yellow Yak every night for the past week, eh? I fancied you fancied her.”

“And there was Misha herself,” Eldin continued, “taking her afternoon nap, right there in that very bed with me! Except … my arrival woke her up.”

Hero couldn’t suppress a grin. “When do you go up?” he inquired. “Before Leewas Nith, I mean.”

“Eh?” said Eldin. “You think she gave a shriek and kicked me out? Well, and I thought she might, too—at first. But you say you fancied I fancied her? And so I did—except I didn’t know that she fancied me in turn! Throw me out? No, she did not. Oh, she was somewhat agog and all atremble at first, but when she saw who it was …”

“God help the poor woman.” Hero sighed, turning his face away and shaking his head. “She must be desperate!”

“Pup!” Eldin snarled. “Why, I’ve seen you making eyes at her!”

“Anyway,” Hero changed the subject, “what then?”

“Well, we spent a very pleasant hour or so together, and then she said she must be up and preparing her place for evening opening. She loaned me this sheet, and helped me tuck it in a bit here and there, and here I am.”

“She didn’t find your being without your clothes a bit odd? Didn’t she even want to know how come?”

“She did, and I explained all, which she accepted at once. It’s handy being a quester for Kuranes. The king’s much loved, you know. And likewise those who look after him. And after all, her bed was the single place in all the dreamlands where I most desired to be.”

“So why are you so miffed?” Hero asked, acting innocent. “I mean, it seems to me I did you a favor!”

“And if I’d been unwelcome in Misha’s bed?”

“But you weren’t.”

“Huh!”

“Huh, indeed!” said Hero. “And how about me when this case is cracked, eh? Oh, you’ll be okay: free booze and all, and when the Yellow Yak turns out, all comfy and warm in the loving arms of Misha Oosh. But what of poor Hero?”

“You’ve girls aplenty,” Eldin snorted, which was true enough. “You’ll not go short.”

“The fact is,” said Hero, “that I really have done you a powerful favor. And it’s to be hoped you won’t forget it. So let’s have no more of these threats on my life and limbs, if you please.”

“What angers me,” said Eldin, curling his lip a bit, “is this: that there are lots of other places I might have ended up, not all of them in Celephais, and none of’em so comfy! I mean, can you imagine floating naked in a large vat of Lippy Unth’s muth? Or finding yourself propped up, everything adangle, at a bar somewhere in downtown Dylath-Leen? Or in some harem in Kled, with a dozen little black eunuchs after your bits with their curved, razor-sharp knives?”

“God!” said Hero. “It says a lot for your desires!”

“Never mind that!” Eldin snapped. “What about my clothes, eh? You’ve cost me a fine suit, shirt, shoes, and my purse to boot, which contained a hundred tonds!”

“Liar,” said Hero, but without emphasis. “Kuranes’ runner brought us a hundred tonds for expenses, fifty each, two of which you’d spent on Niss’ wines.”

“Well, half a hundred, then,” Eldin grumbled. “But I’ll have it back again, b’God I will, when I catch up with that wretch! Except … where is he, eh?” And again he gloomed on the vacant patch of grass.

“Where indeed?” Hero nodded thoughtfully, chewing his lip. “Where indeed?”

HERO LOANED ELDIN EIGHT TONDS with which to buy himself new if less satisfying togs, and they then split up and went their own ways, combing the city’s markets and thoroughfares for sign or word of Naxas Niss. They paid for and sent out a pair of extra eyes, too, in the shape of the urchin Kimp Lootis, a waif late of the waking world like themselves. Kimp, long-haired as a girl and bright as a fresh-minted tond, however ragged, came to them that night with his report, catching them just before they could enter the Yellow Yak, in the cobbled mews which led to that estimable alehouse.

“Hero, Eldin!” The waif stepped out of the shadows, came between the two and grasped their great hands in his own small ones. “I know where he is, or where he was, or where he most likely will be, anyway.”

“Eh?” Eldin gazed down on a moon-silvered elfin face. “Where he is, was, or will be? You’re sure you’ve not been drinking his wines, Kimp?”

The urchin grinned. “It’s worth a tond or two, I’m sure.”

Hero gave a mock groan, flipped the child a triangular tond that glinted gold, silver, gold and silver again before being snatched unerringly from the smoky evening air. He knew Kimp could use the money, having neither home nor family to call his own. But: “Lord,” he said, “I don’t know who’s the bigger crook: you or Naxas Niss! One tond’s all you’ll get. And now that you’ve been paid twice, less of your riddles and a little more information, if you please.”

Kimp stepped back into shadows. “A caravan passed by, on its way to Nir and Ulthar,” he whispered. “Naxas Niss joined it at a watering hole just outside the city. He paid a pouchful of tonds for passage and protection en route to Nir, which was his destination, and was last seen dragging his large trunk into the back of a covered cart.”

“When was this?” Hero hissed.

“Three hours gone. By now they’re halfway there.”

“Good work!” said Hero, and went to pat what he guessed was a head, which was only a shadow. Soft footfalls fell like a patter of gentle rain in the courtyard, and Kimp Lootis was gone.

“It can wait till morning,” said Eldin, turning his bearded face Yellow Yakward once more.

“No,” Hero denied him, “it can’t.”

“What?” Eldin was alarmed, then aggrieved. “But it could if you’d a lovely creature waiting in there for you, eh?”

“She’s not waiting for you,” said Hero. “She’s serving her customers, feeding and watering them, and she’ll be hard at it till the midnight hour. By which time we’ll be high over Nir. Anyway, the last thing she needs right now is you!”

“She needed me this afternoon!”

“That’s as may be, but now that you’ve laid … claim to her, as it were, what’s the hurry? She’ll go off the boil, d’you think?”

“Unlikely!” Eldin preened.

“Then it’s business before pleasure.” Hero nodded, his mind made up.

As they headed for the harbor, Eldin continued to grumble. “I mean, what’s in a night, eh?”

“Twelve hours,” said Hero. “More, if you had your way!”

“No, no, lad,” Eldin wheedled. “I’d be up bright and early, I promise; and we could skip just as sprightly for Nir in the morning.”

“I could skip sprightly in the morning,” said Hero. “You—you’d be knackered! Love-drugged and aching in every bone, and you know it. Right now we’re sharp-eyed, clearheaded, hot on the trail. So let’s not slack off. When the job’s done, that’s a different matter. Also, the wind’s in our favor; we’ll be in Nir even sooner than I thought. And anyway, I’ve got what’s left of the money.” Which was the best bit of his argument. For Eldin had his pride; he knew that if he entered the Yellow Yak without the price of a pint, then that Misha’d think he was only there for the booze!

Their sky-yacht Quester was tied up in the harbor. They boarded her, got the tiny flotation engine going, fed essence to the bags in the keel and up under the reinforced deck. Quester lifted off and Celephais sank below; the lights of hamlets along the coast began to come into view like far crowds of fireflies in the night; a warm, sweet wind off the sea filled out their sail and scudded them along with the clouds for Nir.

And cracking a bottle—just one, and middling stuff, for Hero’s jaw was set—they toasted Naxas Niss’ downfall, and laid their plans to that effect …

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF NIR they set down in a farmyard, woke up the farmer who grumbled a lot and threatened to turn his bull on them, and placated him with tonds that got scarcer by the minute, or so it seemed. He helped them haul the wallowing Quester into a barn, where with engine stilled she slowly settled to a bed of straw. Then they inquired the way to the house of Mathur Imniss, and set off on foot into town.

Nir was a sleepy place even on big occasions. Tomorrow was one such: Fair Day! “Oh, joy!” (Eldin’s sarcasm dripped like acid.) “There’ll be riproaring cow-milking contests, slimy-pole climbing, roof-thatching orgies—the lot!” And there’d doubtless be Naxas Niss’ tent, too, all yellow and tasseled and seeming perfectly innocuous, standing amidst the shies and sideshows on the village green.

Mathur Imniss was a retired quarrier, stonemason, and builder, and a faithful old friend of the questers. They found his house and got him and his good lady wife out of bed, slapped backs and kissed cheeks for a half hour. They took a bite to eat, then bedded down till morning. It was fortunate that Mathur’s son, Gytherik the Gauntmaster, wasn’t to house, else they’d have been up talking all night.

Early awake, the pair disguised themselves somewhat and sought out Tatter Nees, a troubadour of their acquaintance who lived in the town. Tatter knew everyone and everything; he called himself a wandering balladeer, but as Eldin was wont to have it, if he could sing better he wouldn’t need to travel so much. However that might be, at least he was able to put them in the picture in re all manner of comings and goings. And indeed, yestereve, as dusk turned to dark, a caravan had come; aye, and this morning there was a stall in the market, where one Naxas Niss, a dealer in used clothes, was very cheaply selling off all manner of mannish finery. In their disguises (Eldin had grudgingly shaved off his beard, while Hero had applied one, and a foppish hat), they visited said stall.

Naxas Niss was busy as hell, selling clothes as quickly as he could hurl them out of his trunk, which he’d almost emptied by the time the questers arrived. Eldin’s black leathers were still there, at least, tossed carelessly on Niss’ folding table, but his shoes and coarse gray shirt had been sold.

“Now, he dies!” Eldin rumbled, forging forward toward the inner circle of bargain hunters. Hero dragged him back.

“No, he doesn’t!” he hissed. “We’re to bring him in, not do him in! You stay here—I’ll get your gear.” And he did, and paid three tonds for it, too. Niss, gathering up tonds like iron filings to a magnet, didn’t notice him at all.

“God, we’ll soon be broke!” Eldin moaned. “And I’m reduced to paying for my own stolen clothes!”

“No,” said Hero, unrelentingly contradictory, “I am. But at least we now know what he does with them. Which makes it theft beyond a doubt. So now we’ve got him on all counts.” He fished out Kuranes’ letter from a pocket, read:

“‘Nakedness, imprudence bordering on madness, possible fraud and probable’ (no, it’s definite now) ‘theft, and a lot of aimless running about.’ Niss is guilty of some and responsible for the rest. Add to that handling and disposal of stolen goods, and making fools of questers, and we can just about throw the book at him.”

“I’d prefer to throw a fist at him!” growled Eldin; but Hero only smiled a wicked smile.

“No,” said the younger quester, yet again. “Let’s make the punishment fit the crime. And not just any crimes—or even all of them—but specifically his crimes against us.”

And so they stood well back and watched Niss flog what was left of his rags, and pack up his trestle and hire a couple of lads to carry his stuff. And off he went chirpy as a cricket in the direction of the village green. Hero and Eldin followed him, stopping for a (quick) drink along the way, and when they got to the green, the yellow tent had already been erected and business was booming—or appeared to be.

“He’s filling his damned trunk again!” Eldin spluttered, outraged.

“But not nearly so quickly,” Hero pointed out. “Tonds are harder to come by here in cow country, old lad. See, he’s pulling the crowd, all right, but your actual takers are few and far between.”

As if to emphasize what he’d said: “What? A tond a tipple?” one onlooker cried. “Man, I only make ten in a week! Too rich for my blood, Naxas Niss, or whatever your name is.” Others muttered low, shuffled their feet, began to drift away. Niss didn’t fit here. Nir’s fair had always been a fair fair, but Niss’ prices seemed just the opposite. He might sell off his secondhand clothes cheaply, but his exotiques were something else. There were only a half dozen takers (one at a time, of course, of whom only four emerged from the rear, two running off like billy-o and two returning for a second pass; only one of whom exited, and then rushed off like billy-o) and then no more. Until Hero approached, wearing his silly hat and false beard. Eldin had meanwhile sneaked round the back.

“A tond a try?” said Hero, putting on a high-pitched voice and jingling coins in his pocket. “I think I can manage that.”

Niss cocked his head on one side and looked at him curiously. His eyes narrowed a tittle—avariciously, Hero hoped, and not suspiciously. Finally the little man said: “But don’t I know you from somewhere, sir?”

“Indeed,” Hero squeaked at once, “for I purchased a good black suit from you just an hour ago. And a very good buy it was! So if these—er, exotiques?—these wines of yours are up to the standard of your hand-medowns, why, there’ll be no complaints here!”

Naxas Niss chewed his lip. So far he’d taken only eight tonds and three sets of togs. He’d do this latest lumphead, and maybe one more, and move on. Nir was a dump anyway; Ulthar should prove far more profitable; he’d get finished here, buy a yak and cart, and be on his way.

Still looking at Hero sideways and wondering where he’d seen him before, Niss ushered the quester inside and went straight into his spiel as before: “There’s this ritual,” the little man began to sing, doing his jig. “Now listen and you’ll see—”

Eldin entered silently through the back flap and crept up behind him.

Hero said: “One wine sends me where I was before I was here—”

Naxas Niss said: “Oops!” He turned and made a leap for his table, fingers straining toward the bottle of black, and galloped straight into the arms of Eldin. Somehow, incredibly, Niss wriggled free, grabbed up his bottle of “medicine” and took a swig. This was more or less what the questers had expected him to try—something like it, anyway—and Hero was quick off the mark. He snatched the bottle from Niss and likewise glugged, then quickly passed it on to Eldin. For if this was Niss’ bolt-hole, then by the many gods they’d surely bolt it for him!

Naxas Niss was already fading out, his tent, table, bottles, and trunk likewise, and Hero was wavering around the edges, when the Wanderer also tossed back a little black. And a moment later they were no longer in Nir, though as yet Hero didn’t know it. The tent, unpegged, began to collapse around them as Niss, unfreezing, shot out through the front flap. But Hero was right behind him, leaving Eldin floundering in yellow silk. Outside the tent:

They were in a great cave of a dungeon, and along one wall stood a workbench supporting fifty or more bottles all of a different hue; and Naxas Niss shrieking and flying for the bottles as fast as his little feet could shift him. Alas for Niss, Hero was somewhat nimbler. The younger quester caught him by his red velvet collar, yanking and twisting at the same time. Niss went right on running, which made it look like he’d stepped on a banana skin; his feet shot up horizontal and his bubble-body spun facedown. And thump he came down on his belly, venting wind from both ends, while Hero jumped astride his fat back like leaping aboard some peculiar wobbly bronco.

Cursing loudly, Eldin ripped his way through the billowing wall of the tent, then stood stock-still and gawped all about; and in his bewilderment he almost took another pull at the black bottle. But:

“Don’t!” Hero barked, from where he sat upon Naxas Niss’ shuddering back. “Unless you’re feeling especially adventurous, that is. Wasn’t one nip enough?”

Eldin wasn’t feeling especially adventurous; he crossed to the bench and put the black bottle down with all the others. And then, with Hero, he continued to gape all about.

The place they were in was literally a dungeon, and a strangely familiar one at that. It was lighted with green crystal glowstones which were imbedded in the ceiling, and with red ones piled in niches in the walls. They lent the place an infernal light. Stone steps cut from the virgin rock climbed one wall and through the ceiling; on the other side more steps descended; in the center of the floor, the raised rim of a dry well was loosely covered over with a heavy, rusty iron grid. And echoing up from below, indeed from that very well:

“Naxas Niss, is that you?” came a trembly old voice. And there was something familiar about that, too.

Eldin took a red crystal from its pile, crossed to the well, wrenched the iron grid aside and peered down into darkness. “Catch,” he said, dropping the crystal. And down below, someone caught. The red glow in the well lit up a face wrinkled as a walnut, framed in shoulder-length white hair and a waist-long white beard, bearing a long white drooping mustache. Rheumy eyes peered, then widened in a glad, almost disbelieving smile of recognition.

“Eldin the Wanderer!” gasped the mage in the well.

“Nyrass of Theelys!” Eldin replied, nodding. “Reach up your arms.”

Nyrass did as instructed, and Eldin clung to the wall’s rim with one hand while dangling the other. And in a moment he’d hauled the ancient wizard to freedom. At which point Hero said: “All right, you two, let’s have some help here. Bind this bugger’s limbs, can’t you, else I’ll be sitting on him for the rest of my life!”

Nyrass found some rope and Eldin tied Niss hand and foot, then rolled him across the floor, propped him up in a seated position and roped him with his back to the wall of the old well. Silent now, the little crook tugged on his ropes awhile, then sat still and scowled at them all three while the ancient mage hugged Hero and Eldin each in turn. For the questers were his firm friends from a time when they’d helped him destroy Klarek-Yam, the mad First One who’d threatened to release Cthulhu and his kin into both dreamlands and waking world alike. He hugged them, and sobbed a little, too, explaining how he’d spent three months in the well, where Naxas Niss had kept him prisoned. As to how that had come about:

“My wizard ancestor, Soomus the Seventh of the Seventh, brewed many potent wines,” Nyrass started to explain, nodding toward the variously colored bottles arrayed on the workbench. “Wines with a vast variety of properties, not all entirely harmless. Soomus also left a book, explaining their powers; but the book was encoded in Soomus’ own runes, and I’ve never bothered much to decipher the thing. The wines I likewise left alone; left them down here, where they’ve been since those early days of dream, gathering dust and who knows what else to them. I thought from time to time I might destroy them, but even that could prove dangerous, and so I simply let them be.

“Well, one day there was a fair in Theelys, and that one”—he pointed a trembling hand at the trussed Naxas Niss—“had a stall there. There was a game he played with three brass cups and a glittering diamond as big as a robin’s egg, which he called—”

“Find the gemstone?” said Hero, sighing deeply.

“Indeed!” cried Nyrass. “D’you know it?”

“Oh, we know it, all right,” said Eldin. “But Nyrass, d’you mean to say you were taken in by that one? Why, it’s sleight of hand—trickery—a game to filch farthings from the village idiots! And you a magician. Tsk, tsk!”

Nyrass bowed his head and eventually continued. “Well, Naxas also had a betting system called—”

“Double or nothing?” said Eldin. “Aye, an we know that one, too. And how many times did you double your bet, eh, trying to find the gemstone?”

Nyrass hung his head even lower. “A baker’s dozen,” he admitted. “Thirteen times, aye. Unlucky for some, thirteen, and especially me! But how could I lose every single time, eh? I’d seen the village children win, when they were gaming with Naxas Niss for sweetie-sucks and toffee-apples, so why couldn’t I? Impossible that I should lose so often, and consecutively, but I did. Ah, but where the first bet cost me only a tond, the last one—”

“Cost four thousand and ninety-six of’em!” said Hero, who was good at that sort of thing.

“Alas,” said Nyrass, “I never was much of a mathematician.”

“You’re a daft old wizard!” said Eldin, but he put an arm round Nyrass’ shoulders anyway. “What then?”

“I told him I probably had the money at home,” said Nyrass. “He packed up his stall and came back with me. But when I looked I had only a few tonds, which he took, of course. But I did have goods. I offered him a cracked shewstone, not much good but better than nothing. And several books of outworn spells, and a pair of demagicked wands. None of which interested him. But then we came down here, and that was where I made my big mistake.”

“You told him about Soomus’ wines.” Hero could see it all now. “And they did interest him.”

Nyrass nodded. “Apparently he has a talent for translation. He snatched Soomus’ book, tumbled me down the well—wandless and all, and no runebook in easy reach—and set about discovering what he could of the wines.”

“But you’re a wizard!” cried Eldin. “Couldn’t you levitate out of there, or conjure assistance or something?”

“I’m a very old wizard,” Nyrass corrected him, “and the older I get, the more I forget. In fact, I’ve just about forgotten everything! Anyway, as for the rest of it—”

“Let me tell it,” now Niss himself spoke up, his voice sour as vinegar. “Else at this rate it’ll take all day. Soomus’ book started to disintegrate as soon as I opened it. I could only discover the secrets of three of his wines before the thing fell to dust. But I’d learned enough to make a start, at least. So … I took away with me the go-where-you-were, the be-where-you-most-desire-to-be, and the come-you-home—that’s the black one, as you’ve discovered. Just those three, see, for I was cautious. I must walk before I tried running. I used the wines at various fairs and they worked for me like … like magic! But it wasn’t all tonds and treacle, I can tell you. When threatened by the occasional punter who’d been where he desired but really shouldn’t have been, I’d sip black and come back here in a flash, even as you’ve seen it happen. Each time I came back I’d feed the old fool, and attempt to decipher some of the labels on the rest of Soomus’ bottles. Eventually I discovered the return-ye-here and the color-blinder; and with that last one, why, of course the rest were easy! But it was then I discovered how lucky I’d been. Dangerous? Those bottles are murder! The worst of’em contained a liquid purple imp. Only try to sip from that one and he’d drag you in by your tongue, and you’d take his place! I weighted it and dropped it far out to sea, and then I reckoned I’d quit while I was ahead.”

“Three months ago, all this?” said Hero.

“Forty-four fairs ago, aye,” said Naxas Niss, more than a little surly now.

“And you didn’t run out of red, gold, white, green, and black?”

“That’s another of their properties,” said Niss. “They replenish themselves.”

“Bottomless bottles!” Eldin gawped. “Now, that’s what I call magic!”

“But why hasn’t anyone apprehended you before now?” Hero wanted to know.

“I’ve already told you,” said Niss. “Whenever I smelled danger, I’d take a swig of black.”

“But you’d think those you’d fooled would warn their friends, at least,” said Eldin.

“Oh?” said Naxas Niss. “Really? And let on what clowns they’d been? Or how they’d gone through tens of tonds by coming back for one more sip of red? Or tell whose beds they’d found themselves in, naked as babes? And believe me, a forbidden bed isn’t the worst place a man can most desire to be!”

Hero nodded. “And if someone with more guts than most came back to give you a thashing, then you’d simply sip black and slip back here—and your gear with you! Very clever.”

“Too clever far,” said Eldin. And to the magician: “Nyrass, I fancy you’re getting too tottery to be left on your own. You could do with someone to look after you and your place both.”

“A companion?” said Nyrass. “Maybe you’re right.”

Hero spoke up. “There’s a homeless waif in Celephais called Kimp Lootis. He’s a likable lad who lives by his wits, but given a home to call his own I reckon he’d be good as gold. What say we see what he thinks of the idea, eh?”

He ripped through the silk of Niss’ tent to the table and its bottles, found and held up green. Then back to the workbench to retrieve the bottle of black. “Now you two hang on here,” he told Eldin and Nyrass, pouring green into his palm and rubbing it into his jacket, pants, and boots. All done, he pocketed black, took a quick swig of green, and put the bottle down. “And keep your eyes on that one!” were his last words before he disappeared. Last to go was his finger, pointing at Naxas Niss. And … his clothes went with him!

Niss was furious. “He’s not so daft, your spindly pall” he snapped at Eldin. “Even I hadn’t figured that out. Green affects only what it touches. Inside a man, it transports him where he most desires to be. Rubbed on his clothes, it transports them, too!”

Eldin beamed. “Right!” he said. “And right now he most desires to be wherever Kimp is. Not so daft, you say? Brilliant, says me!”

“What’s he like, this Kimp?” Nyrass was uncertain.

“A good lad,” said Eldin. “Needs a father, that’s all.”

“Well”—Nyrass shrugged—“it’s true I’ve been feeling my years lately. They weigh on me like lead. And since I’ve no kin of my own—”

Hero materialized grin-first, likewise Kimp, still smacking his lips from the belt of black Hero’d given him.

Following which …

LEAVING NAXAS NISS BOUND (and double-bound) in the dungeon, the questers spent the rest of the day with Nyrass and Kimp. They wandered through the wizard’s great castle and its gardens, tried fruits from a variety of trees; and all the while Nyrass performing small magics for the delight of the waif, and everyone feeling generally very light at heart. From a high turret as dusk began to settle, they watched the lamps flickering into life in Theelys, following which and as the stars also began to light, Eldin brewed tea and made them all a mighty plate of scrambled eggs on toast.

As for Kimp: he couldn’t get over his amaze and delight that he now had a home and a father of his own; and Nyrass knew he’d never be lonely—or fall prey to the likes of Naxas Niss again—not with a lad sharp as Kimp around, he wouldn’t.

Leaving the two to get better acquainted, Hero and Eldin went into town, came back an hour later towing a bunch of flotation bags purchased with the last of their tonds from a sky-ship’s chandler. The bags were inflated, straining lustily inside a net but held down by massive lead weights in a huge wicker basket swaying at the ends of four ropes. And the questers hauled the weighted but weightless device behind them all the way to Nyrass’ garden wall, where they fitted up Naxas Niss in a rope harness and forced a tot of white between his frothing, cursing jaws.

Off he went at once, heading full-tilt for Nir under a rising moon; and Hero and Eldin in the basket (along with Niss’ trunk and Soomus’ wines), having tossed out the great lead weights to make room, and vented a little essence to get the balance just right. Like a rickshaw-boy Niss ran, was Eldin’s opinion—though he couldn’t remember exactly what a rickshaw-boy was; something from the waking world, he supposed—going back where he’d last been, however far, his feet waggling for all they were worth but barely touching the ground because of the flotation bags he towed on high. The wind, at least, was in his favor.

And along the way, every now and then, Hero or Eldin would toss a bottle overboard, happy to hear it smashing as its exotique contents soaked the starlit path; and Niss groaning with each bottle smashed, knowing now he was done for and doomed to spend a spell (of the mundane sort, and if his legs held out that long) in Leewas Nith’s Celephasian cells …

MIDMORNING SAW THEM BACK IN NIR, where finally Niss collapsed and fell into a sleep of total exhaustion. He was a lot thinner now, and his clogs worn through to his puffy, pulsating feet. They transferred him to Quester and sailed for Celephais, where in Leewas Nith’s afternoon sessions he was found guilty and sent down for a twelve-month’s rest.

Later, aloft aboard Quester (but tethered just twenty feet over the harbor, and safe from prying eyes), the king’s agents found the false bottom in Niss’ trunk and the little sacks of tonds he’d hoarded therein; which discovery was followed by a deal of hilarity, giggling, and thigh-slapping, as the questers counted their considerable profits and congratulated themselves that all had turned out so well.

But after a while Hero licked his lips and said: “D’you know, I’m dry? A splash of wine would go down well.”

“Let’s get ashore,” said Eldin at once, “and find ourselves an eatery till the Yellow Yak’s doors spring open!”

“No,” said Hero, “I mean right now.”

“What? Here, now, aboard Quester? But … there’s not a drop aboard, lad, you know that!”

“I know you take me for a great fool!” cried Hero, reaching out and snatching the bottle of red from Eldin’s huge jacket pocket. “As if you could resist saving just one of them—you, of all people!” He pulled the cork and took a massive swig, said: “Ahhh!” appreciatively and passed the bottle back.

“Actually,” said Eldin, “I was going to tell you.”

“Huh!” said Hero.

“No, seriously. See, it’s no fun being color-blind on your own. But to tell the truth, you do look sort of cute in blue!”

“Cute?” said Hero. “Cute?” He chuckled and took back the neverempty bottle, tilting more of its contents into his throat. And smacking his lips as he once more passed the bottle, he said: “Well, that’s more than I can say for you—in puce!”

“Puce!” The Wanderer almost choked on the biggest swig of all. “Puce!” he sputtered and coughed. “The hell with that!” And he hurled the bottle far out over the water.

For three days and nights the Southern Sea was green and gold and sky blue pink, and as for the fish which the fishermen brought in … why, rainbow trout had nothing on them at all!

THE STEALER OF DREAMS

Up there on the ocean-facing slope of Mount Aran, above the tree line but not yet into the snow (for the snowy peak of Aran had been forbidden to men immemorially, and especially to waking-worlders, and more especially to men such as Eldin the Wanderer and David Hero, called Hero of Dreams), up there, then, the atmosphere was thin but heady, the air cool and crisp, and the timelessness of Celephais amply apparent in the vista spread below: that same vista viewed by dreamers five hundred years ago, and one which others as yet unborn, or even undreamed, would view five hundred years hence.

Hero, on his own for once, or at least accompanied only by his hangover, which seemed to him far more noisy than any actual physical companion might ever be (with the single exception of Eldin, of course), appreciated the air of these higher regions and wished he could open doors in his ears, let the coolness waft through and blow out all the cobwebs, dead rats, indistinct memories and too-slowly evaporating muth fumes, and so leave an uncluttered brain to start functioning again as brains should, instead of stumbling blindly around in his skull and tripping itself up on all the junk in there.

Hero had a telescope with him, which he used periodically to enhance the gazing of his slightly bloodshot right eye down on Celephais. Each time he did so the pain was a little less penetrating than the last time—which told him that his head was clearing, however slowly—but still he couldn’t look for more than a second or two, sufficient only for the glitter of a spire or minaret to stab through his pupil, or for bright flashes of Naraxa water tumbling oceanward to set his senses spinning; and then, groaning, he’d turn his spyglass on the sea instead.

Now, normally that would be even worse, for the blue of the Southern Sea may fairly be described as a visual toothache; and Hero, who liked to do things with words (he wrote the occasional poem, and sometimes sang his own songs, too) had often wondered why no one had come up with a more descriptive color for it than simply blue. If a dark yellow stone could be described as ocher, then surely the Southern Sea’s searing, indeed piercing color might better be titled acher? And by the same token shouldn’t muth, so sweet on the tongue in the drinking, yet turning that same inoffensive organ to a vile, decomposing blanket during sleep, more rightly be called moth? For certainly he now felt that he had a mouthful of them!

As is seen, and for all the on-this-occasion-involuntary humor of his thinking, Hero was not in a good mood. But he was at least able to gaze down on the Southern Sea without doing his brain permanent damage, for last night’s storm had left the ocean scored with ranks of marching waves, disrupting its “acher” to a bearable gray-green. And now we get to the other reason why Hero was here: for as well as the beneficial, purging effect of booze being burned out of his system by the climb, and the sweet, clear air of these heights to freshen his brain and lungs, there was also a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that all was not well with the Wanderer.

Except to disguise this anxiety as Hero’s “other reason” for being here is quite inaccurate; Eldin the Wanderer’s welfare was indeed uppermost in Hero’s mind, and all that nonsense about fresh air and beneficial climbing (?) quite spurious, or would be if he were willing to admit that he was ever at any time given to worrying about his fellow adventurer. They never did admit to such things, these two, and probably never would, but in fact they couldn’t be closer or love each other more if they were twins. What’s more, Hero half blamed himself for Eldin’s absence on this occasion, and knew that he would blame himself forever if aught had gone seriously amiss.

But … last night there’d been drinking, and boasting, and wagering as well; as the muth had gone down faster, so the boasting and wagering had grown wilder; finally Eldin had declared that “alone, single-handed, on (his) own, without assistance and entirely unaided,” (sic) he could sail their boat Quester to Serannian the sky-floating city, and there drink three bars dry; and when Hero had called his bluff, wagering his half of Quester that he couldn’t, then the dippy old duffer had gone staggering off to do just that! Since when he hadn’t been seen, and there’d been this sudden, vicious storm. So Hero’s real reason for being here was that these heights were an ideal vantage point from which to scan the still-troubled waters beating on the strands for sign of Eldin’s return. Except his return might well be in doubt. The trouble was this:

Without question Eldin could handle Quester on his own—when he was sober, and when the boat was in good repair. But a sail had needed mending, and a flotation bag had been lost in Baharna on Oriab at the end of a recent mission for King Kuranes, and a second bag had been losing essence for a long time now, so that the tiny engine had difficulty keeping it filled. And of course, worst of all, Eldin had been mindless on muth. Add to these objections the sudden storm … anything could have happened.

This morning Hero had come awake in their garret room to find his companion’s bed empty; remembering the other’s boast and his own wager, which had been nothing short of a dare, and rushing down to the wharf (or more properly staggering), he’d discovered Quester gone. Seeing the state of the sea, and already fearing the worst, he’d sought out Tatter Nees, a wandering balladeer from Nir who’d been their drinking companion last night. Tatter, none too steady on his own pins, had tottered off to make inquiry, and Hero had borrowed a spyglass and headed for Aran. And he’d counted a hundred and more boats coming and going this morning, some from the sky and some from the sea, but never a sign of Quester.

Which brings us to the present.

“Hero!” came a distant cry, echoing out of the trees and up the slope of scree and outcropped stone. Hero focused his glass, found Tatter down there in the ginkgos, hands cupped to his mouth, ready to fire another salvo.

Oh, God! thought Hero, knowing he’d have to respond. “What is it?” he finally bellowed—and immediately clapped both hands to his temples, fully believing that his head had cracked right down the middle.

“Two things,” Tatter shouted back, staggering, repelled by his own voice like a cannon recoiling from a shot. And Hero could almost hear his low-muttered curses.

“Hold it, hold it.” Hero waved a ceasefire. “I’ll come down.”

He stood up, slid on his heels through the scree, kept his balance remarkably well and used half-buried boulders to slow himself down when his plunging might get out of hand. And at last he was into the trees, and finally down to where the troubadour waited. Tatter, a long, thin specimen of Homo ephemerens, gloomed on Hero, saying: “Never again, never again,” in time-honored fashion, without shaking his head.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Hero replied, remembering not to nod. And: “What’s up?”

“First,” said Tatter, “the king wants to see you.” He half turned his face away, stared into the trees.

Hero could feel himself going white. “And second?” he said.

“Second … Hero, I—”

“Second?” Hero repeated.

Tatter took a deep breath, looked straight at him. “It’s Ephar Phoog,” he said. Phoog was an avaricious Celephasian auctioneer with the instincts of a ghoul. “He’s dispatched a couple of his lads to Fang Rocks,” Tatter continued. “There’s a boat wrecked there, but not just any boat. There’s a buzz in town that it’s Quester …”

“And Eldin?” Hero’s head was suddenly clear.

Tatter shrugged, bobbed about a bit, looked away again. “No sign of him. But that’s not to say—”

“I know what it’s not to say,” Hero cut him short again. “Tatter, thanks. I know that wasn’t easy.”

“You’ll go see the king?”

“Bugger the king!” said Hero, but softly. “I’ll look for Eldin first.” And he did. But when, in Ephar Phoog’s auction house, they silently showed him a piece of shattered gunwale on which was painted Ques, the ter being lost; and when he recognized his own brush strokes …

SOME HOURS LATER Hero saw the king.

Kuranes was busy with the renovation of a wing of his Cornish manor house, and artisans were running about all over the place with buckets of paint and whitewash, platters of mortar and various mixes, while masons trundled wheelbarrows of carved stone blocks to and fro. Generally, all was in a turmoil. Hero scratched his head and wondered: Is this how they achieve timelessness in Celephais? By refusing to let it fall into decay? He was disappointed, for it would seem to take something of the magic out of things.

Hero was taken to the king in the great hall of the wing under repair, where Kuranes personally supervised the work; but when the king spied Hero he at once left off, took his arm, and guided him to private chambers. There he commiserated with the numb adventurer, and finished by completing Tatter Nees’ previously unspoken:

“—But that’s not to say that Eldin is, or has … come to harm.”

Hero had bathed and smartened himself up a little. Not only for his audience with the king but also as a means of distancing himself from last night’s idiocy, which had not only caused his current unease but might yet prove to have been entirely calamitous. For if Eldin were in fact dead and gone … then Hero knew he’d never drink muth again, nor carouse, nor do any of the myriad other things they’d so often done together. It would mean an end to all that, and to a great deal more. Possibly an end to Hero himself. But for now Kuranes had summoned him, and so he must do his best to pay attention.

Seated opposite the king, looking at him across his great desk through eyes grown a little less bloodshot in a face grown a lot more gaunt, what Hero saw was this:

Under a paint-splashed smock, the Lord of Ooth-Nargai and the Skies Around Serannian was slightly built but regally robed, gray-bearded but bright-eyed. The slant of his eyes and tilt of their brows might on occasion be thought sarcastic, even caustic, but the wisdom and compassion in the lines of his face, and the warmth and steadiness of his gaze, spoke of a love for and a loyalty to his fellow men—especially those domiciled in Earth’s dreamlands—which was quite beyond mundane measure. And yet there was this realness about him which set him apart from Homo ephemerens; rightly so, for he too was once a waking-worlder, long departed from the conscious world to become a power and permanent resident now in the lands of Earth’s dreams. But his origins were stamped on him like the face on a fresh-minted coin; nor were they absent from his voice, which contained in its accents thrilling, often tantalizing reminders of days long forgotten and lives spent in worlds outside or on a higher plane than the so-called subconscious.

Kuranes returned Hero’s gaze, and what he saw was this:

Hero was tall and well muscled, yet lithe as a hound and agile as a Kledan monkey, and blond in the lands of dream as he’d been in the waking world. His eyes were of a light blue, but they could darken very quickly to steel, or turn a dangerous, glinty yellow in a tight spot, In fact he was usually easygoing, quick to grin, much given to jesting; but while he loved songs a fair bit and girls even more, still he was a wizard-master of fists, feet, knives, and any sword in a fight, of which there’d been no lack, as the crusty knobs of rock which he called knuckles avowed. A rough diamond, Hero, but one which nevertheless glinted exceeding bright.

Except now his shoulders were slumped and his face pale, where even the laughter lines seemed somehow faded. And Kuranes knew no less than Hero himself that if the Wanderer had indeed died last night, then that he’d lost the services of not only one good agent but probably both of them. And that was a loss he couldn’t contemplate, for men such as these were hard to come by.

“Why did you send for me?” Hero eventually spoke up.

“Because I’ve a job for you,” said the king, and he told him a little of what it was.

“Baharna, on the Isle of Oriab?” Hero’s voice was dull. “But how can I leave Celephais now, not knowing? I couldn’t.” He shook his head.

“You can and must,” Kuranes answered. “Indeed, it’s the best thing in all the dreamlands that you can do! By the time you return we’ll have found him. Or at least by then we’ll know what’s happened to him. It has to be better than moping around in Celephais, drinking every night and doubtless getting into trouble, and no earthly use to man or beast. You’ll go and discover this monstrous Oriabian vampire and put him or it down—or I’ll wash my hands of you.”

This last was meant to shock Hero and stir him up, but it hardly touched him. Instead he merely looked at the king, and said: “We once sought out a vampire for you in Inquanok.” And he shuddered. “On that occasion, without Eldin … I was a goner for sure.”

“I know how you feel,” said Kuranes.

“No, you don’t.”

“Very well, I don’t. But listen: do this for me and strengthen our alliance with Oriab, and this is what I’ll do for you. I’ll have every boat in the harbor out searching for Eldin; I’ll have men on every beach and cliff for twenty miles east and west of the city; each day you’re away, I’ll send you bulletins by carrier pigeon, so keeping you up to date. And when you return, I’ll furnish you with a new sky-yacht to replace Quester. Who could say fairer than that? But you in your turn must promise to discover, or do your level best to discover, the terror stalking Oriab and eliminate it. And you set sail today, without delay, just as soon as we are finished.”

“But as you’ve just as good as pointed out,” said Hero without animation, “I’ve no boat.”

“Chim Nedlar is the master of a sloop; he’s waiting for you even now, tied up in the harbor but ready to sail as soon as you’re aboard. Now, what’s it to be?”

Hero stood up and headed for the door. He hadn’t been dismissed but Kuranes said nothing. He merely waited, holding his breath. At the door Hero paused, looked back. “Oriab? Baharna? Me and Eldin, we’ve mutual interests there. We’ve had some good times there, too. And a few bad ones. There’ll be a lot of memories sunk deep, just waiting to be disturbed so they can rise up again. My heart won’t be in it.”

“But your head will know it’s for the best,” Kuranes countered. “And stop talking as if he’s dead! We don’t know that, and only the future will tell.”

Hero nodded, however slightly. “Baharna,” he said again, but thoughtfully. And: “Only the future will tell …” He straightened up a little, and the king thought that perhaps some of the helplessness had gone out of him. “Very well,” said Hero, going out and closing the door softly behind him …

HERO BOARDED the Shark’s Fin an hour later. He chuckled inside a little (sadly, perhaps—or nostalgically, so soon?) thinking: Now, what would Eldin make of this, I wonder?

“What, the Shark’s Fin sloop?” the absent quester would doubtless have commented. “A boat, you say? Sounds more like some weird Oriental delicacy to me!” And then both of them would have wondered what “Oriental” meant, for memories of the waking world came and went in exceedingly brief and usually inexplicable flashes. And now, as Chim Nedlar showed his passenger to his bunk, indeed Hero did wonder what “Oriental” meant. Which was strange because he’d known just a moment ago. But that was the way of it.

“Get some sleep,” the sloop’s master told him, “for you look all in.” And then he went off about his business. A little later they set sail, and since the wind blew fair for Oriab they were soon airborne and out of the chop of waves which still hadn’t settled from the storm. Then, far out over the Southern Sea—with the wind whistling in the rigging, and the flotation engines softly thumping like a pair of great hearts belowdecks somewhere amidships—Chim came down again and gave his cargo a shake.

Hero hadn’t undressed, merely stretched himself out and fallen instantly asleep. Dressed in soft, russet brown leather, which was his usual garb, he wore a short jacket, snug-fitting trousers, and calf boots with his trousers tucked in to form piratical bells. His jacket sleeves were rolled up to show a tanned breadth of forearm, and a slightly curved sword of Kled hung from his belt on his right hip, loosely tethered to his leg above the knee. But asleep he tossed and turned, and mumbled to himself a bit, grimacing now and then and balling his fists.

For not only had he fallen asleep but straight into dreams within dreams: mental phantasms which, for all that they were only a repetition of what had gone—or what had probably gone—before, were exceedingly weird dreams indeed. His mind was exhausted, doubtless from worrying about the Wanderer, because of which it was perhaps only natural that his dreams should concern themselves with that selfsame worthy.

Eldin in trouble, aboard a storm-lashed Quester; Eldin hurled overboard, tumbling down through leagues of sky to the heaving bosom of the Southern Sea; Eldin sinking through weedy deeps, ogled by fishes, finally feasted upon by crabs.

And Kuranes’ voice sounding harsh in Hero’s mind, saying very un-Kuraneslike things, such as:

“He’s not dead, just resting his bones a bit. Now, leave him be, pull yourself together and be off to Baharna. You’ve a quest, remember? Seek out and slay me this vampire and I’ll return Quester to you—aye, and this dozy, drowned old duffer of a Wanderer, too!”

“Watch who you’re shouting at!” Hero mumblingly returned. “And especially what you’re shouting at him!”

But casting about he discovered there was no king there at all—no ocean floor or recumbent, crab-nurturing Eldin—only a windswept, mountainous place where ghosts of vanished dreamers cried out to him for vengeance.

“Sucked dry!” they moaned. “Taken in our prime! With all substance drawn off, what are we now but fast-fading memories? Give us back our flesh, David Hero. Give us back to those who mourn us, and yet fear us for the voiceless wraiths we are become …”

Voiceless? They seemed to Hero to have voices enough! He might even have ventured to say so, but in another moment—

—He stood on the gently rolling deck of a ship. It was night now; ah, but he could tell by the feel of things that the night was unquiet! And sure enough, true to his instinct, a scarcely luminous ghost came striding toward him; burly and bearded it was, a sailor, by its rolling gait. And yet the stars shone through its insubstantial outline where it paused to peer at Hero, then put up a hand to its palid eyes to gaze far, far out to sea. Finally the ghost turned back to Hero and with a worried, puzzled expression, but quite conversationally, said: “The worst of it is, I can’t seem to remember! My dreams have all been eaten up; and what’s a dreamlander without his dreams, eh?”

“I—” Hero gaped, his eyes wide, astonished and not a little afraid of this conversation with a ghost. “I—”

“You?” the apparition frowned with faint-etched eyebrows. “Was it you took all I had been away from me?” Ghostly fingers—which yet felt real enough—reached to grasp Hero’s shoulder and shake him. He gave a great start—

—Started awake!—sat up—saw Chim Nedlar there and gasped, remembered, then flopped down on his back again. But in a little while he once more sat up.

Chim Nedlar was a little overweight for a sailor, Hero thought, quickly recovering his wits. Somewhat puffy in the face and heavy in the frame, but jolly enough for all that. And there was that of the waking world about him, too, which seemed to add to his substance. He had loose lips, green eyes, dark hair parted in the middle and plaited down to his chubby shoulders, wore a shirt like a tent hanging loose to his shoes, which were wooden clogs with soles of rough hide to grip the decks. In height he came up to Hero’s chin.

As Hero’s heart quit hammering, so the other perched himself on the bunk opposite and said: “I could see you were nightmaring and so woke you up. Forgive me if I startled you.”

“You did, and I do,” said Hero. “Indeed, I thank you!”

Chim smiled, nodded. “So it’s off to Oriab, eh? On king’s business, too! I’ve heard of you, David Hero. Hero of Dreams, they call you, and you’re a quester for Kuranes!”

Hero wasn’t especially interested in conversation right now; though his dreams were fast receding, he still had his own private thoughts to think; but the vessel’s captain was only being polite, and Hero could find no fault in that. “A small thing,” he answered with a shrug. “We’re the king’s men, aye, me and … and a friend of mine.” He fell silent.

“Eldin, aye,” the other answered gravely. “Eldin the Wanderer. Heard of him, too, and know that you’re a pair of bold adventurers with many a tall tail to tell. And taller because they’re all true! Me, I’m the wrong shape for derring-do, or maybe I’d have joined Serannian’s sky-navy under Admiral Limnar Dass. But active service, me?” He jiggled his belly, gave a shrug. “Alas, no. So I sail the Shark’s Fin here and there out of Baharna, finding what trade I can. I suppose we’re a ferry, really. But I do get to meet some interesting folks, and I do like to listen to the tales they tell.”

Hero yawned and at once apologized. “Knackered,” he excused himself. “And I’m sorry, but I’ve no stories for you. Not now, anyway. Maybe we’ll have a drink together sometime, and then we’ll see.” He carefully lay down again.

Chim Nedlar seemed a little disappointed. He sighed and said, “Ah, well—maybe I’ll catch you in Baharna. Where do you pull your corks?”

Hero shrugged again, put his hands behind his head and suppressed another yawn. “The Quayside Quaress, usually,” he finally answered. “Buxom Barba’s place on the waterfront.”

“Know it well.” Chim chuckled. “A favorite haunt. Maybe I’ll catch you there, then. The drinks are on me.”

“Indeed?” Hero offered a weary wink. “Why, then you’ll be welcome at my table any old time, Chim!” He closed his eyes, drawling: “Aye, and I daresay we’ll meet there one night, in the old Quayside Quaress.” And lulled by the vessel’s gentle roll, he slowly drifted back into sleep. This time, however, there were no dreams within dreams …

IN BAHARNA, via a chandler’s shop in the harbor, Hero made for Lippy Unth’s place, the Leery Crab, standing squarish and squat as its namesake at the end of an ancient stone quay. Once upon a time the proprietor, Lipperod Unth, had owned another, similarly unsavory place, which as the direct result of a night’s affray was wrecked and submerged in a scummy, disused part of the harbor. The Leery Crab, unlike its Craven Lobster cousin, was built of stone, not timber, and its door was guarded by Lippy’s large son Gooba and an equally impressive friend. They stood one to each side of the entrance, young, olive-black Pargans, towering like gleaming, meaty monoliths in the dusk as Hero approached along the stone-flagged quay.

Recognizing him at once, Gooba stepped forward, grunting: “You’re not welcome here, Hero.” And he set himself squarely in the quester’s way.

“Don’t talk daft, lad,” Hero growled. “Why, it was my money that built this place!”

“But my father preferred his old place,” Gooba answered, showing his teeth in a snarl as he and his similarly mountainous friend fell into defensive crouches. “The one that you and Eldin the Wanderer sank!”

Hero paused only a few paces away. He carried a small sack which now he dipped into, coming out with a bomb as round and black as a cannonball, and a flint striker which he held up in plain view. He grinned humorlessly at their expressions, and low in his throat said, “Gooba, I still owe your old man a little something for feeding me to the scabfish. You remember? And a crab’s much the same as a lobster to me—crusty old crustaceans both. Now, I’m not looking for trouble, but if you don’t ease up and let me pass I swear I’ll light this fuse and lob all hell right in through that door.”

Gooba and friend blinked, looked at each other, seemed to shrink a little. Creases showed in their black brows.

“I’ll count to five,” Hero pushed. “One …”

They stepped aside and he proceeded, or would have except now Lippy himself stood in his way.

Lippy as a nickname didn’t derive entirely from Lipperod, nor as one might erroneously surmise from any great love of talking. On the contrary, Lippy wasn’t much for talking; he was far more a man of action. But when he was annoyed, then he’d pout with his great black lips and thrust them out ahead of him like a warning trumpet; and when Lippy Unth looked like that … someone or ones was or were in big trouble! Hero had witnessed Lippy’s metamorphosis from bartender/owner to incredibly destructive device on more than one occasion; he had determined never to see it again. Not if he could avoid it.

“No trouble, Lippy,” he said now, studying the other’s huge olive face and brown, rolling eyes.

“Ah!” said Lippy. “No trouble, you say? But it seems to me I’ve heard that before. And didn’t I just now hear you threatening the Crab with sudden and quite unwarranted annihilation?” His eyes settled on the bomb in Hero’s hand, mirroring it, which turned them to great black marbles that stared accusingly out of his head. “Also,” he continued, “you mentioned an unsettled score.”

“Only to bolster my argument,” said Hero. “In fact I consider all old scores settled, and scars heated—or I will once this is over. Lippy, I’d no more enter here than dive headfirst into the jaws of hell. But I’m looking for Eldin and there might well be a certain customer of yours who can tell me where he is.”

Lippy let his eyes slowly wander beyond Hero, along the quay. “The Wanderer’s not with you?”

“See for yourself,” said Hero.

Lippy’s shoulders, which had been hunched up almost as high as his head under his stained, straining shirt, now relaxed a very little. He narrowed his eyes. “Very well, you can come in—but the bomb gets dumped in the harbor.”

Hero shook his head. “Call it insurance,” he said. “It not only gets me in but out again—unscathed! Then I’ll toss it in the harbor.”

“Hero—” Lippy rumbled warningly, his shoulders starting to hunch again. Worse, his great lips began to pout. Hero was aware of Gooba and chum straying fractionally closer on the flanks, knew it was time he restated the stakes.

“I’m short on time,” he said, his voice very dangerous sounding. “So our little chat’s over.” He hefted the bomb, held his striker close to its fuse. “Now do I get in—or does everyone who’s in get out?”

Lippy’s lips retracted. “Who is it you’re looking for?”

“The Seer with Invisible Eyes,” said Hero.

“Huh!” said Lippy, at last standing aside. “Aye, he’s here—damn his eyes!”

“They’re already damned,” said Hero, carefully stepping round the huge Pargan, through the door and into the Leery Crab’s smoke-wreathed, muth-reeking gloom.

The Crab, like the ill-fated Lobster before it, was appointed in something less than opulence. The bar consisted of a stout, square wooden framework in the center of one huge room, from which Lippy, his wife, and massive son could take in the entire place at a glance. As for its clientele: They were hard men, loners, ex-pirates, sea captains from unknown parts on the lookout for a crewman to shanghai, seadogs and peglegs and others of a like ilk gathered to tell their tall tales, which got taller with every telling. But unsavory? It could be downright unhealthy!

But the place did have its good points. In high season, for instance, there would never be any overcrowding down here. There’d always be room to sit at a bench without tangling elbows; you’d rarely have to shout to make yourself heard; you wouldn’t be bothered by ladies of the night. The things that used this place couldn’t be called ladies of any description. And the proprietor, Lippy himself, demanded and maintained good order at all times. Or at least tried his best to do so. “Come and go in peace,” was his motto, “or in pieces, as you choose.”

Booze? It wasn’t good but it wasn’t the worst. Lippy’s license was still intact, anyway. The muth-dew was watered (probably a good idea), the spirits tasted fishy, or at least of the salty element in which fishes swim, the ales had ailed somewhat and you could pickle eggs in the wine. But on the other hand it was very cheap, provided you had a cast-iron constitution. Most of Lippy’s customers had, though for how much longer was anybody’s guess.

In short, the Leery Crab wasn’t the sort of place in which you’d expect to find one of Kuranes’ most trusted foreign operatives, which was one of the two reasons why the Seer used it—the other being that he simply loved it! He was funny like that, the Seer with Invisible Eyes.

Funny in all sorts of ways, thought Hero, casting about in the glow of ceiling-suspended lanterns. But he very quickly found who (what?) he was looking for. The S.W.I.E. sat in one corner, with his back to the wall, hunched over a mug of muth. A good safe seat, Hero reckoned, sidling up and sliding onto the bottom-polished wooden bench behind its bolted-down table, ending up only a foot away from the silent Seer. He placed his bomb before him but kept the striker ready in his hand. Gooba came over, kept a respectful distance, inquired: “Are you drinking, Hero?”

“A small ale,” Hero told him. “And if it tastes even slightly weird I’ll be very annoyed. When I’m annoyed my thumbs twitch, see?” One of his thumbs twitched, anyway, and sparks flew from the striker—some of them passing dangerously close to the bomb’s fuse. Gooba went off at a run to fetch Hero his ale, and several wise patrons seated nearby stood up, blinked or yawned in their fashion, then quickly put distance between and removed to more solitary areas of the great room.

Through all of this the S.W.I.E. had said nothing. Now Hero glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. As usual, the Seer was wrapped in a bundle of rags with the hood thrown up to make a shadowy blot of his face. All that was visible of the man within this cocoon of rough cloth was a pair of scrawny wrists and clawlike hands with long, sharp nails; these protruded from his tattered sleeves, trapping the mug of muth where it sat before him. He had seemed oblivious of Hero’s approach, oblivious of all else, too; but Hero had noted that when he put his bomb on the table the Seer had visibly started. Now, however, he merely chuckled.

“A neat ploy, that,” he commented without stirring, his voice like the scurry of mice in a bone-dry granary. “When is a bomb not a bomb? When David Hero is up to his—”

“—Neck in it, if you don’t keep your voice down!” Hero hissed, out of the corner of his mouth. “What are you trying to do, get me crippled?”

The Seer shrugged. “No one can hear us.” And then, straight to business: “What’s on your mind?”

“Eldin the Wanderer. He’s on my mind.”

The Seer’s head lifted a little and turned fractionally in Hero’s direction. For a moment light fell on his face, which was gaunt, hollow cheeked, invisibly eyed. The sockets where those eyes should be contained an emptiness as deep as the spaces out beyond the stars, and certainly they looked just as cold, too. Never give this one the old two-finger treatment, Hero told himself, or for sure you’ll be left with a pair of crystallized stumps!

The Seer winked, and for a moment one of the holes in his face vanished behind an eyelid. Then it was back again, deep and mysterious as ever. “Aye, aye!” said the Seer.

“Eldin,” Hero repeated impatiently. “He’s gone missing.”

“And you want me to scry him out for you?”

Hero sighed. “Of course!”

“Better tell me about it, then. The dreamlands are vast and I’m not omniscient. Points of reference may help narrow it down a bit.”

Gooba brought Hero’s ale and retreated, and when he was back out of earshot Hero told the entire tale of Eldin’s disappearance. When he was done the Seer grunted, “Huh! He deserves it—and so do you. What? You’re like a pair of big kids, you two. Booze and birds, that’s all you ever seem to think about!”

Astonished, Hero drew back a little. “Why, you callous old … this is Eldin we’re talking about! He and I, we’re like one person. A team. A well-oiled machine!”

“Too well-oiled!” snapped the Seer. “And far too often. I really can’t see what Kuranes sees in you. Not even with these invisible eyes of mine, I just can’t see it.”

Hero showed his teeth, puffed himself up—and deflated in a vast sigh. “Yes, you’re right,” he said. “All that you said and more—you’re dead right. But even if we don’t amount to much, still I’m only half as much without him. I’ll be like a machine without an engine, doing nothing, going rusty. Also, I …” He fell silent.

“You love him?”

“Hell, no!” Hero was scornful, or tried to be. But he knew he couldn’t deceive the S.W.I.E. “Of course I do,” he finally admitted. And quickly added: “Er, in my way. The big … heap!”

“A heap,” the Seer repeated, nodding. He cocked his head on one side a bit. “Yes, I can see that, now that you come to mention it. But we’re wasting time. Now, listen: this right invisible eye of mine occasionally scans the recent past, and the left can sometimes scry on the immediate future. So since this is all very sinister, or at least fraught, that’s how we’ll go—sinistrally! Now tell me, what do you see in my left eye?” He closed the right emptiness and Hero gazed deep into the other. But there was nothing there, just a great yawning void that whirled and expanded until he felt he was being sucked into it. Suddenly dizzy, he looked away, shook his head to clear it of the rush and reel.

“Nothing,” he said, after a moment. “Just a whirlpool of … nothingness!”

“Good!” said the Seer, with some satisfaction. “That’s how it should be. Does you no good, knowing the future. I prefer to be kept guessing. Keeps me on my mettle. Now we’ll try the right eye.”

He opened the lowered lid, closed the other, and Hero looked again. At first there was nothing, but then—

—The Seer’s invisible right eye began to fill in, tiny pieces of indeterminate action slotting into place like bits in a miniature jigsaw puzzle, gradually obscuring the absolute void which formed the board behind the picture. So fascinated was Hero by this process that he failed at first to take note of the emerging scene; but as it neared completion all leaped suddenly into perspective, so that now he gasped out loud and peered more closely yet.

It was Eldin and Quester, the one aboard the other, all tossed about in a storm that spun the little sky-yacht this way and that like a torn kite caught in high branches on a blustery spring morning. Eldin, fighting with the sails, trying desperately to cut them loose before they pulled the boat apart; and a boom swinging, striking him, hurling him against the side of the tiny cabin where his arm seemed awkwardly trapped.

Then the mast splitting and leaning over sideways to port, and the roof of the cabin wrenched loose and all the ship’s gear sucked out into the maelstrom. And the Wanderer cradling his (broken?) left arm, lurching this way and that and looking all about in seeming desperation. Quester was breaking up around him; the mast, splintered at its base but not yet broken free, swung to and fro, clearing the decks and shattering the upper strakes. With each wild sweep Eldin must leap over the lunging mast or have his legs smashed. Then the mast swinging far out to starboard and jamming there, causing the aerial wreck to list at more than forty-five degrees in that direction.

And Eldin struggling with a hatch cover, slamming back the bolts until the door burst open with the pressure of the flotation bag contained beneath. The Wanderer’s ploy was obvious; he took a knife and cut through one of the two guys holding the bag in place, so that it sprang out of its bay below the deck and strained like a balloon to be free. Then, tangling his arms and legs in the net which covered the bag, the Wanderer reached down and sliced through the second tether.

That did it; he was snatched aloft while Quester capsized and slid stern-first out of the sky, down toward the foaming Southern Sea far below.

The picture faded, broke up, vanished, and the Seer’s right eye was once again invisible.

“He lives!” Hero breathed, mainly to himself. And to the S.W.I.E.: “I’ll tell you what I saw—”

“Hold!” husked that worthy, with whispery breath. “What you saw from without I saw from within. Two-way, these windows of mine. What, d’you think I can’t read these invisible eyes I’ve been gifted—or cursed—with? That would be like giving a crystal ball to a blind man! As for Eldin living, however”—he grew more whispery yet—“I’d not go daft on that theory, if I were you.”

“Explain,” said Hero.

“What you just saw was a day ago, during the storm. And it looked pretty perilous to me: floating off like that on a bag of mainly ethereal essence!”

Hero nodded. “Maybe, but we’re old hands at ethereal-essence floating, Eldin and me. I say he lives! The question is … where?”

“You want to scry some more?”

“Can we?”

The Seer sighed. “It’s a bit of an effort,” he grumbled. “But now that I’ve picked up his trail … and anyway, what’s a talent for if not to be exercised, eh? Very well, look again.” And once more he shuttered his left eye while opening wide the bottomless pit which was his right. More than eager, Hero licked his lips, looked—

—And strained back from the Seer at what he saw, lurched to his feet with a cry of denial forming on his lips! Before he could utter it, the S.W.I.E. grabbed his wrist in an iron claw, dragged him down again. “It’s a picture!” the Seer rasped. “Only a picture floating on the surface of my mind. Damn it, I’m not always right!” “Liar!” Hero gasped. “It’s real and you know it!” But nevertheless he looked again in the moment before the Seer blinked and erased the thing:

A backdrop of crags reaching to frouming mountains; great gray peaks rearing skyward; dark clouds scudding east on some secret, silent mission. And in the foreground: fangs of rock, scree slides, projecting outcrops like looming menhirs. Aye, menhirs, indeed! They set the mood for the rest of the scene. For caught fast halfway down a sheer-sided cliff, there was Quester’s deflated flotation bag; it clung crumpled to the fractured rock, the web of its rope net ripped—and empty!

“Carried south, southeast by the storm,” said Hero, his eyes halfglazed, “rushed along with the wind whistling in his rigging, Eldin eventually spied the Isle of Oriab. He deflated the bag a little, sank toward the island. But the wind was too strong or his judgment was off. He missed Baharna and flew on into the hinterland. Those peaks, the rocks, the mountain heights—those were the foothills of N’granek. I’ve seen it, been there, know the place. I couldn’t be mistaken.”

“But I can be!” the Seer insisted. “Did you see him crash into the cliff, rupture his bag and burst the net? Did you see him fall? No, you saw only—”

“—The result of that crash,” Hero finished it for him. “I saw its result, and that’s enough.” His eyes had turned bleak, and yet moist, too. “Now I have to go and find his body, find Eldin, and deal with him before N’granek’s gaunts find and deal with him. Or before he’s found by other creatures of the night.”

The Seer nodded, said: “If he’s dead, and if you find him—what then?”

Hero frowned through his misery. It seemed an odd question. He shook his head. “I don’t—”

“There are laws that govern the dead here in the dreamlands, Hero!” the Seer’s voice was harsh. “Had you forgotten?”

Hero gasped as he saw the other’s meaning. If Eldin was dead, then he’d died in an especially unpleasant manner. And those who died that way—in nightmarish fashion—all shared a common destiny: the Charnel Gardens of Zura!

“No,” said Hero, shaking his head, “I’ll not let that be! Zura shan’t have him. Not the Queen of the Living Dead. I’ll track him, find him, burn him before I’ll let him go to her—and he’ll thank me for it!”

He stood up again, and swayed a little from the sudden emptiness of his head, heart, limbs. “Now … now I have to look for him.”

“Hero.” The Seer again pulled him down, and was surprised that it took so little effort. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Eh?” Hero sat there cold and numb.

“Your quest?”

“What do you know of my quest?” His query was listless, automatic.

The Seer shrugged. “An hour ago, a carrier pigeon from Celephais found me as I was on my way here. From Kuranes. With a message. I was told you might seek me out, and the king asked me what I know of this Oriabian vampire. More than that, he also told me a couple of things. And it now appears your quest’s more urgent than ever. I’m sorry, lad, but Eldin will have to wait.”

Again Hero lurched to his feet. “Not for any king’s quest!” he blurted.

This time the Seer made no attempt to seize him, but said: “Hero, do you trust me?”

Hero looked into his frozen, empty sockets, and said, “Yes—no—I don’t know. How can I trust someone when I can’t see what’s in his eyes? Trust you about what?”

“About Eldin.”

Hero’s face was gaunt, tortured. “I have to find him.”

“Sit down and listen to me.”

Hero sat—but inside his pain and frustration were churning toward anger. “Hero,” said the Seer, “there are many small lights in my mind. They glow there like fireflies in a dark lane, or stars mirrored in a still sea. They are people I’ve met, memories of which I’ve retained. I don’t know these motes individually, can’t tell which firefly is what man or woman. But I’m sure I’d know it if one of them were extinguished. None of them have been, not recently. A few have flickered now and then, but none of them have gone out.”

“You’re saying Eldin is still alive.”

“I can’t guarantee it, but I believe it. Now, do you believe me?”

“If I do, isn’t that all the more reason why I must find him?”

“Hero,” said the Seer. “This pain you feel, worrying about Eldin. Is it bad?”

Hero groaned. “He’s more than a brother. I laugh with him …”

“How much worse is it, then, for those families and friends beloved of this vampire’s victims? Now don’t look away but answer me. Eldin is one man, and they are many. And again I say to you: I believe he lives.”

“But a short time ago you told me not to rely too much on my theory of his being alive.”

“Because if I’m wrong I don’t want your hatred!”

They stared at each other for long moments. Finally Hero said, “Very well, but understand: If you are wrong, I will hate you. What must I do?”

“You go about your business for Kuranes,” said the Seer, with an audible sigh, “and I’ll look for Eldin. And who better for the job, eh? Me, with these invisible eyes of mine. But first, and quickly, let me tell you what the king told me, and also what I’ve learned for myself:

“Kuranes’ message: The plague has spread to Celephais!”

“What?” Already the numbness was going out of Hero’s brain; his mind was alert again, his grasp growing stronger. “The thing has taken a victim in Ooth-Nargai?”

“Victims!” the Seer corrected him. “Plural. Three of’em.”

“But how can that be?” Hero’s brow showed creases.

The Seer shrugged. “More than one vampire, maybe? Or a creature who can fly in the night across the sea? I don’t know how it can be.”

Hero thought back on what Kuranes had told him:

Healthy men—hardy, adventurous types all, and usually in their prime—had been vanishing without trace in Baharna and its outskirts. They left neither hide nor hair, bits or bones behind but quite simply disappeared—almost. They did leave gradually dispersing wraiths—ghosts! But ghosts of peculiar habits. No rattling of chains or lopped-off head-carrying for these missing and presumably (what else?) dead persons; no, they were simply wraiths that haunted their old homes, their families, favorite places, and other “haunts” they’d known in more corporeal times.

Now, ghosts in the dreamlands were as rare as ghosts in the waking world. Oh, the dreamworld had its monsters and menaces, true enough, its regions of magick, mystery, and nightmare, but as for ghosts … Homo ephemerens (the people of dreams) didn’t generally have much of true matter anyway. They seemed solid and real enough, as most dreams do, but there just wasn’t enough of them to leave a great deal behind. Dreamland’s legendary Enchanted Wood was rumored to be home for several departed spirits, but actual sightings of specters were generally few and far between. Or had used to be.

The trouble with the troubled spirits which the Oriabian (and now Celephasian, apparently) vampire left behind was this: that they were incredibly persistent in aspiring to ghosthood. Each and every victim had become a ghost, without a single exception. Also, instead of merely haunting, they went about like lost souls (which of course they were) in a sort of vacant, absentminded, and yes, totally lost condition. Not lost like virginity or lost in sin, but lost as in not knowing where they were. And perhaps more importantly, not remembering who they had been!

And having revisited that conversation with Kuranes, and now with something of animation, Hero said: “It suddenly strikes me that we can make a quick end of this thing!”

The Seer raised an expressive eyebrow over nothing whatsoever, and said: “How so?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Use your right eye to scry the past, find the vampire in his/her/its vile pusuit—or better still red-handed at a victim’s demise—and I’ll take it from there.”

“Oh?” said the Seer. “Obvious, is it? But if what you suggest were possible there’d be no more crime in all the dreamlands! Can’t you see that?”

“Eh?”

The Seer sighed. “I can’t scry on criminal activities—not consciously, anyway. My eyes for the most part are quite blind to all matters of larceny, thuggery, arson, etcetera. Crimes against persons or property are therefore outside my scope, especially in a supernatural context. On the other hand”—and he frowned, which, without eyes, was a sight to see—“in this case there does appear to be something of an ambiguity.”

“Say on.”

“Well, I’ve said I’m not much on scrying supernatural stuff—and that’s a fact, even though the scrying itself is nothing short of supernatural! Ah, but I can see the ghosts of this vampire’s victims!”

“Indeed? And can you show them to me?”

“Certainly! For I’ve made some preliminary investigations, and indeed I have the power to recall some of the scenes I’ve seen. Now look into my eyes again—both of them, this time—and I’ll run a replay.”

Hero looked as directed, and it was something like using the Viewmaster he’d owned as a child, except when he thought of it he couldn’t remember his childhood and didn’t know what a Viewmaster was. Just another brief flash of memory from the waking world.

The scene was Andahad, a small but opulent seaport on the far side of Oriab. Hero knew it well enough since he and Eldin’s ladyloves Ula and Una Gidduf had lived there once upon a time with their well-to-do merchant father, Ham. As Hero watched, the picture in the Seer’s eyes narrowed down to a house of some excellence standing on a hillside to the east of the town. Outside the house, relatives of the family, passersby, and curiosity seekers in general, stood about in a small crowd, some having visited or being about to visit and others simply waiting to see what they’d see. Hero scanned their faces and believed he saw one that he recognized; then the S.W.I.E.’s eyes took him through the main door and inside the privacy of the dwelling itself.

There, in the main room—the sitting room, with a wide window overlooking the ocean strand—the family of the missing-presumed-dead man sat around in great distress, wringing their hands and weeping, or else staring in astonishment at all that was left of the head of the family. His widow, the lady of the house herself, was quite distraught; wild-haired and -eyed, she all the time pleaded with the apparition, which stepped here and there about the room, peering this way and that, with an expression of bewilderment—no, of utter mystification—written plain on its diaphanous transparency of a face.

Hero was fascinated. He watched the ghost in its perambulations, how it appeared to examine this or that object or item of furniture in the room, frowning as if desperately trying to recall something it should know. And a weird comparison struck Hero: that the specter’s expression was not unlike Eldin’s or even his own on those occasions when they would briefly recall some fragment from the waking world, only to lose it a moment later. Every so often, as it drifted about, the ectoplasmic revenant would deliberately move around a chair or table, as if subconsciously “remembering” that such items of furniture were there; but mainly it walked right through them, and occasionally people, too, even its own pleading, weeping, half-crazed widow.

Occasionally it would seem to recognize one or another of its children, stop and stare in its puzzled fashion, even begin to smile or cry; but then the three-quarters vacant, worried expression would return and off it would go again, fading and quickening in turn, insubstantial as moonbeams where it examined and reexamined the room. Eventually, not looking where it was going, it passed into a solid wall and disappeared.

“An explorer and adventurer,” the Seer informed as his eyes went blank as space again. “He mapped half of Kled in his time, that one. A great lecturer on his travels and travails in far, foreign places. When you’re too old for questing, Hero, maybe you should take a leaf from his book and become a lecturer. He didn’t do too badly out of it.”

“Oh?” The other frowned. “Well, possibly there’s no connection between who he was and what he’s become, but in any case it doesn’t seem to me that he’s done too well! I mean, what is he now but a vacant vapor, eh?”

The Seer scratched his head through his cowl a moment, then offered: “Do you want to see more? I’ve looked into most of these cases as they’ve occurred. Since we’re visiting in Andahad, as it were, you might also like to check out the shade of Shallis Tull.”

“Shallis Tull?” Hero repeated the name. “Wasn’t he big all those years ago in the antislave-trade lobby? Didn’t he forge links with Parg, become the blood brother of Gunda-ra-Gunda, the Pargan king, and sabotage a Kledan slaver fleet?”

“The same.” The S.W.I.E. nodded. “Hard as nails, Shallis Tull, but with a heart of gold. Alas, he too is now a ghost; he haunts the ship he once sailed against Kled!”

“He wasn’t a family man?”

“No, not him. The sea was his mistress, and fair play for all men his goal. Care to visit?”

Hero nodded. “But make it brief; I fear for Eldin, and at this rate you’ll never get after him.”

Again the Seer’s eyes clouded over …

SO IT WENT.

Through the Seer’s invisible eyes Hero boarded Shallis Tull’s sloop The Silver Fish, to witness that vessel’s vampirized ex-captain vacantly exploring her length and breadth. There was something vaguely familiar about the ship’s interior and belowdecks, but Hero was rather more interested in the ghost of Tull than the vessel it had chosen to haunt.

Finally he followed the blocky, bearded, bewildered, and disembodied apparition back up on deck, where in a little while it passed into the wheelhouse, through the wheel, and vanished into the woodwork.

Before the Seer’s eyes could revert to their commonplace (?) vacuity, Hero gazed through them onto the wharfside, where as before a small crowd of curiosity-seekers had assembled, all of them staring in wide-eyed wonder at the ghost-boat. And again, among the milling faces of these perversely peering persons, Hero thought he saw one which he recognized. Indeed, the same one that he’d seen outside the house of the explorer-adventurer.

After that, in short order, the S.W.I.E. showed Hero the ghost of Eelor Tush, a Baharnian vintner who’d journeyed to the edge of dream itself in the discovery of his rare wines; the spectral remains of Tark the Tall, mountaineer extraordinaire, whose recent expedition on the south face of Hatheg-Kla in the stony desert had been the talk of all the dreamlands (especially after his party, with the sole exception of Tark himself, had fallen to their deaths from the mountain’s flank; indeed fallen up the mountain, for Hatheg-Kla is that sort of place); and finally the shade of Geerblas Ulm, fearless and fabled descender into holes, first man to ever clamber down a rope to the bone-strewn floor of the ill-regarded Pit of Puth. And always Hero was aware that the same figure and face were somewhere present in the vicinity, mingling with the mobs come to gawp at the ghosts of this string of unfortunate personalities.

And so fascinated and involved had Hero become with these ocular excursions that it took some little time for the fact to dawn that here he was back in the Leery Crab (from which he’d never in fact strayed), seated beside the Seer, who sipped at his muth as before. “Enough?” inquired that worthy, between sips.

“Quite enough.” Hero nodded. “And I thank you for what you’ve shown me. What’s more, I believe I’m onto something. Now make haste with that muth and get busy.”

“Eh? Busy?”

“Searching for Eldin, of course, alive or dead. But alive, if you value my continued friendship.”

The Seer drained his mug. “I shall proceed by yak to the western flank of N’granek, which I’ll search most diligently,” he promised.

“Good!” said Hero. “And when I’ve done with a spot of business—maybe even while I’m dealing with it—I’ll make myself available for searching the eastern flank. Before we go our separate ways, however, perhaps you’ll tell me: when exactly was Shallis Tull’s demise?”

“Eh? Tull? He disappeared, oh, all of three or four months ago. One of the vampire’s first victims, as it happens.”

“And The Silver Fish? What became of her?”

“Sold in auction, the monies going to Tull’s old shipmates.”

Hero nodded and asked no more. They stood up and the Seer left a small (a very small) tip on the table, and in single file they took their leave of the place. Or would have, except that Lippy Unth was waiting just beyond the door.

“Hero,” said the huge black man rumblingly. “I’ll take that, if it’s all the same to you.” He glanced warily at the bomb in Hero’s hand. Behind him stood Gooba and friend, along with a goodly number of scar-faced patrons.

Without pause Hero struck sparks and lit the fuse, which at once commenced sputtering and smoking and of course burning down. Everyone except Lippy, who seemed nailed to the quay’s stone flags, burst into furious activity, diving this way and that like so many trapped rats, taking cover wherever such might be had. Some went so far as to dive headlong off the pier into the scabfish-ridden scum of the harbor. Lippy, as stated, merely teetered on his heels, his olive features somehow contriving to turn a dark gray.

“This?” said Hero, innocently, holding up the smoking bomb in plain view. “Take it, by all means!” And he tucked it into Lippy’s wide trouser band under his bulging belly.

Finally Lippy unfroze, snatched the device from his trousers, lobbed it out across the greasy water. In doing so he noted how light it was; noted, too, that when it splashed down it didn’t sink but bobbed—exactly like the green glass floats which the fishermen used to buoy their nets! What’s more, there was a smudge of fresh black paint on Lippy’s hurling hand …

“Hero!” he howled a moment later, when he’d had time to draw sufficient breath. But by then Hero and the S.W.I.E. both had quite vanished away.

HERO DECIDED HE’D CARRY OUT an aerial search for Eldin, and he knew exactly who he’d enlist to aid him in this venture: someone with a sky-ship, obviously. Night had settled and the Quayside Quaress was alive with music, lights and laughter as he hurried along the dockside. At the door he bumped into the very man he sought, Chim Nedlar himself, master of the Shark’s Fin sloop.

“Ahoy there, Cap’n!” Hero called out in a voice darkly jovial.

The other peered at him a moment in the gloom, then chuckled. “Ahoy, Hero! So we get to have a drink together after all!”

“Later, maybe,” said Hero. “But right now I’ve need of your boat.”

“Eh?” Nedlar seemed uncertain. “But I’ve given my lads shore leave for the night. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait till morning.”

“No.” Hero shook his head. “It can’t. My friend and fellow quester Eldin the Wanderer is wrecked somewhere on N’granck, where the foothills meet the mountain. I’ve come here, to the Quaress, to borrow a bit of gear, and then I was on my way to find you. By being here you’ve saved me the trouble. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well for your time and the hire of your sloop. As for being shorthanded: how many crew do you carry?”

“Myself and two—when they’re here,” said the captain. “She’s easy in the handling, the old Shark’s Fin.”

“But built for speed!” said Hero. “Which is what’s required. And the wind’s dropped, and we’re both of us sailors. Man, I reckon we can handle her well enough on our own. Now, look, while I get me an aiming-lamp, maybe you’d like to pick up a bottle or two? Then while we search we can pull their corks, eh?”

Chim Nedlar brightened a little. “And perhaps you’ll tell me a handful of your tall tales?—er, while we search, I mean?”

“A deal’s a deal.” Hero nodded.

As Chim made his way to the bar to buy booze, Hero’s eyes narrowed a little. He watched the other’s broad back disappear into the crowd …

Then someone tugged at his elbow and a foul, familiar female voice blasted in his ear: “Hero, by all that’s unspeakably clean and healthy!”

“Buxom Barba!” he returned, recoiling from her breath.

Gigantically bosomed, gap-toothed from many a fistfight, and beaming very unbeautifully, Barba grabbed and hugged him. He felt his ribs give a little and fought free. “And Eldin?” she said, punching Hero mightily in the shoulder as she glanced this way and that. “Now, where’s my favorite boy?”

“Lost,” said Hero, and he explained the other’s possible plight. “That’s why I’m here, to borrow one of your stage-lighting devices.”

She went and brought one for him: a lantern with a curved lens, to throw the light in a beam. Onstage, the amazon Zuli Bazooli’s dance was made that much more sensuous where now only five lights played upon her gleaming body instead of the customary six. “My thanks, Barba,” said Hero. “I’ll not forget you.”

“When you find him drag him back here for a drink!” she shouted, as he hurried toward Chim Nedlar waiting at the door …

AFTER THAT IT TOOK TEN MINUTES to get aboard the Shark’s Fin, cast off, and climb up into the night sky, and in a little while the gentle breeze off the sea was hushing them inland toward N’granek. Hero fixed up his searchlight in the prow, and Chim let his vessel drift along silently under half sail, crossing Baharna’s hinterland plateau toward the central peaks. Then the captain joined Hero as he scanned the way ahead, and each pulling a cork they drank a little wine. The stuff went straight to Hero’s head, which in the circumstances was perhaps to be expected.

“The engines are off, bags three-quarters full, altitude steady,” said Chim. “Twenty minutes or thereabouts and we’ll be over the foothills. Then we can start hallooing and hope your friend hears us, and your searchlight can double as a depth gauge. There are fangs aplenty I wouldn’t care to bang into. Closer to N’granek I’ll start up the engines, gain a little altitude, head for the eastern flank. If Eldin the Wanderer’s there he should see or hear us. I still think it would have been better by daylight, but—”

“But he’s lived through one night out there already,” said Hero. “If he’s still alive. So by now he’ll be a bit desperate—especially if he’s hurt. That’s why it couldn’t wait till daybreak.”

“Of course, of course,” said Chim, falling silent and thoughtful.

“Oh?” said Hero in a little while. “Is there something? Did I perhaps snap at you just then?”

Chim shrugged. “Only because you’re under stress,” he said. “But I suppose in the circumstances you’ll not be much for recounting your adventures. A shame. For it’s my hobby, you know: listening to swashbuckling yarns. And with such as you aboard … why, to hear firsthand accounts of your adventures would be … but probably not at a time like this, eh?”

Hero looked at him sideways. “I’ve nothing against it,” he said. “Indeed, it might help pass the time.” At which … it was as if a chill breeze blew on the back of Hero’s neck, so that the short hairs stiffened there and made him shiver. He looked to see what had caused this sudden, icy gust, and there—

—Not three paces away, there stood a burly, bearded figure, peering in a puzzled fashion across the gunwale and out into the night! At first Hero almost cried out, for he thought that it was Eldin. But then he saw that for all its burliness the figure was ephemeral as fluff, less than a shimmer on a hot day. Rightly so, for it was the not entirely unfamiliar ghost of Shallis Tull! Its familiarity had two sources. One: this was one of the apparitions that the S.W.I.E. had shown to him; and two: it was the ghost he’d seen in his dreams during the crossing from Celephais to Oriab. What’s more, it seemed to Hero that the specter was a warning …

“Ah!” said Chim Nedlar, “You see him, do you? From where I’m standing he’s the merest outline. You see, it’s all in the angle. Well, nothing to be afraid of. He’s perfectly harmless. Give you a start, did he?”

The ghost quit its peering, wandered off along the deck and into the wheelhouse. Its face looked out for a moment through a window, and then gradually faded away …

“Eh?” said Hero, shaking himself. “A start? Aye, a bit of a one.” He looked hard at Chim and his eyes had gone a fraction glinty. “Though why that should be I can’t really say—since this was once his ship! P’raps I should have expected him.”

Chim nodded. “Oh? And you know all about him, eh? Aye, the old Shark’s Fin was once The Silver Fish; I thought it wiser to name her anew. I mean, it’s one thing to be haunted but quite another to advertise the fact! How much trade d’you think I’d do if my customers knew this was Tull’s old vessel?”

“Not much, I suppose,” said Hero. “But doesn’t it—he—bother you? Aren’t you a bit chary of him?”

“He’s a ghost.” Chim shrugged. “And gradually fading as all ghosts do. I see less and less of him. Another week or two and there’ll be nothing left of him at all!”

“But he’s the victim of a vampire.” Hero was coldly logical. “I mean, what of the legends? What if he should come back in vampire guise and vampirize you?”

“Hah! Twaddle! Stuff and nonsense!” Chim snorted. “Superstitious claptrap!”

“Oh?” Hero feigned a look of surprise. “You’re not a superstitious man, then?”

“Me? No, of course not.”

“And yet you admit that your boat’s haunted …”

Chim narrowed his eyes. “I—”

“Indeed, it is haunted, for just a moment ago we both saw the ghost.”

Chim sputtered. “A common or garden ghost is one thing,” he declared, “and a vampire quite another. The first I believe in, not least because I’ve seen it, but the other—”

At which point the Shark’s Fin bumped shudderingly into something, and from down below there came the rumbling echo of falling boulders. “Crags!” Hero cried, aiming his searchlight down into darkness.

“Fangs!” Chim leaped to the wheelhouse, got the flotation engines going.

They’d been lucky, merely brushed a pinnacle and blunted its stony tip. But sure enough they’d drifted well into the foothills, and southward rose the central peaks, where N’granek was lord and master. Gaining altitude, the ship bore them up above the danger zone.

“East,” said Hero a little breathlessly. “Tack east now, while I sweep with my beam and we will both call out as we go. If Eldin’s somewhere down there he’ll see and/or hear us.”

East it was, searchlight flashing, voices calling, and down below a thin mist crawling on the crags and in the hollows. But never the sight or sound of Eldin the Wanderer. And after a while: “Let down your anchor,” said Hero gruffly. “It’s dawned on me that if he’s hurt, he may well be gathering his strength to make reply. I’d hate to overshoot him and leave him cold and broken in the mist.”

Chim Nedlar did as instructed; the Shark’s Fin swung gently at anchor some thirty-five feet over the crags, with frowning N’granek as backdrop, shrouded in a mist made yellow by the rising moon. And for an hour Hero aimed his lamp this way and that, until its oil was all used up; and all the while the two men bellowing their lungs out—to no apparent avail. “I’m hoarse,” Hero finally admitted.

“Me too,” replied the other.

They drank wine, Hero perhaps a little too much.

Then the Shark’s Fin’s master spotted a tear in the inside corner of the quester’s right eye, and another forming in the left. He nodded his understanding, said solemnly: “You think he’s a goner, right?”

Hero looked away.

“You’ve adventured a lot together, you two,” Chim prompted.

“Aye.” Hero’s voice came gruff from where he averted his face. Then, with more animation: “Adventured? Hah! That’s not the half of it! How many men have been to the moon, Chim? We went there, got turned to moon rock—almost, and returned to tell of it. What do you know of Lathi and Zura? They’ve been enemies and allies both—until now I don’t quite know what they are! We’ve chased horned-one pirates aboard Admiral Dass’ flagship, burned old Thalarion to the ground, sailed dreamland’s skies on the life-leaf of a Great Tree. Adventure?”

“Go on,” Chim Nedlar urged. “Tell me more. Only paint a fuller picture, Hero. These are mere scraps you’re tossing me.”

And so Hero began to talk.

It was the wine, his grief, the misty night. It was his loneliness. And of course it was Chim’s urging. The man was a good listener: he was like a sponge, soaking up all that Hero told him. But he was much more than a mere sponge.

Hero told of his part in the destruction of Yibb-Tstll’s avatar idol in the Great Bleak Mountains; and of how he’d lulled the eidolon Lathi with a lullaby, thus enabling her hive city to be razed to the ground. He talked of the aerial plank-walk he’d taken, with Zura’s zombie-pirates’ swords at his back, and of his rescue from that miles-high tumble by Gytherik Imniss’ night gaunts; and he told of the time he’d been vented from the bowels of Serannian in a great gust of scented flotation essence, when again Gytherik’s grim of gaunts had plucked him from gravity’s “fell” clutches.

And as time passed and his tales grew more detailed, so their telling became an almost automatic process; it was like siphoning water: one suck to get the thing going, and that’s your lot till the lake’s dry. Tonelessly, with neither affection nor detestation, he told of trials both titillating and terrifying; and all the while it seemed that he unburdened himself, that a great weight was lifted from him as each tale was told. And strangely, as each tale was told, so he forgot it—utterty, so that it didn’t even cross his mind to wonder why—as he went on to the next story.

Worse far, however, than the mental depletion taking place in Hero, was the physical one. He was growing … flimsy! The more he divulged of his life and loves, his adventures and misadventures, his windfalls, pitfalls and pratfalls, his lucky and losing breaks, the less of him there seemed to be. It was as if Chim Nedlar were absorbing his substance as well as his words. And yet, once started, there was no stopping. His life came out in an endless stream, like a vein slashed through. And the water of a tepid tub turning pink, then red, as the poor doomed soul lies back and oh so gently expires. But there was no blood, no pain, and very little of conscious awareness of the murder taking place. Of Chim Nedlar’s murder of David Hero, Hero of Dreams.

No blood, no—for Chim was not that sort of vampire.

But a vampire he was, to be sure.

“More! More!” he gloated—and bloated as he fed on Hero’s heroics. “Except … tell me more about Eldin, too, and Limnar Dass, Gytherik, Kuranes, oh, and all the others you’ve known. I want to know all of their adventures, too!”

Hero looked at the other through eyes that swam like small fishes in a bland bowl ocean. Chim Nedlar, grinning, drooling, his fat face full of spittly teeth, his eyes pinpricks of passion in a puffy mass of dough. Chim, all swollen with Hero’s stories. No—with Hero’s life!

And now Hero knew (however dimly) what he’d more than half suspected anyway. Except it was too late to do anything about it. And anyway, did he want to do anything about it? This way there’d be nothing of him left at all for Zura. And certainly it was painless enough. But what would the worlds of dream have been like without Eldin? It was something he hadn’t intended to discover.

Maybe there were dreamlands ulterior to this one, and maybe he’d meet up with Eldin again in one of them. Why not? They’d named the old lad Wanderer, hadn’t they? A ways to wander yet, perhaps. Now, there was a thought!

“More! More!” Chim demanded, his voice a gurgle.

“One last tale,” Hero whispered, the merest shadow of a man where he sat with his pale head lolling on the gunwale, his barely opaque hand listless where it tried to grasp and lift his bottle, but wasn’t quite solid or strong enough to manage it. “The last one, Chim—for it’s this one!”

“This one?”

“Aye.” Hero nodded. “The story of how I came to Oriab in search of a monster—and found him!”

“Ah!” said Chim. “Ah! But discovered him too late!”

“I’ve known for some time.” Hero sighed, his dying searchlight’s beam beginning to show through his flesh. “Not the how of it, until now, but certainly I suspected the who.”

Chim nodded. “That’s as it may be; it detracts not at all from my enjoyment. Out with it, then, this last tale. Tell it all—and then you’re done. And me? Glutted, I’ll first sleep it off, then live on your fat dreams for quite some little time before I’m hungry again.”

And Hero, unable to resist, began to comply:

“It started with drinking,” he said, his voice very ephemeral now, “and with boasting, and of course wagering as well. As the muth went down faster, so the boasting and wagering grew wilder. Mine and Eldin’s, of course. Finally the great buffoon declared that ‘alone, single-handed, on (his) own, without assistance and—’”

The anchor chain rattled and Chim gave a start. Beneath his ballooning shirt the great mass of him quivered. His piggy eyes left Hero’s fading face to scan the dark deck. There was a streamer of creeping mist; there were shadows, splashes of yellow moonlight. Nothing else.

Chim faced Hero again. “Go on,” he said.

“No!” came a gruff, grim, croaking voice from the darkness of the wheelhouse. “No, lad, say no more. For it strikes me you’ve damn near talked yourself to death already!”

Shallis Tull’s ghost came lumbering, bearded, and burly. Except it wasn’t Tull but Eldin!

“Gah!” said Chim Nedlar, who knew the game was up. “Gah!” He drew a long thin knife from its sheath sewn into his shirt. Eldin disarmed him with a lunge and a twirl of his great straight sword. And, “Gah!” the soul-stealer said again, shrinking against the strakes.

“Eldin!” whispered Hero, unable to rise. “Eldin!”

“The same,” said the Wanderer, his own voice scratchy as sandpaper. He reached down, took up Hero’s bottle, drained it in one massive gulp.

“Did you hear?” Hero was thin as water, blurred at the edges, gradually going gaseous.

“Enough.” Eldin nodded. “I’ve been clinging to the anchor chain for some little time, waiting to be sure I knew what it was all about. Now I know.” He placed the point of his sword on a spot a little below Nedlar’s fat, bobbing Adam’s apple. “Now tell it back,” he ordered. “All of it, exactly as you heard it.”

“He told the stories of his own free will!” Chim Nedlar babbled.

“And so will you,” said Eldin grimly.

“What? At swordpoint?”

“You have a choice: untell the things, and unspell Hero—let out those tales of his which you’ve somehow trapped—or I’ll let you out all over the deck here!” He pressed harder with his sword and the other’s throat was indented, where the tiniest prick of red showed.

“I’ll do it,” the vampire gulped.

He retold Hero’s stories. In the telling, his bulging shirt subsided a little and some of the puffiness went out of him; Hero put on flesh, or rather his outline began to fill out and look less like that of a jellyfish in the sunlight. Soon he was able to stand up. He looked more his old self, and yet still a little vague.

Chim Nedlar had come gaspingly to a halt.

“Did he retell all?” Eldin was suspicious.

Hero scratched his head. “How’m I supposed to know? I reremembered everything he said, but how can I say he said everything?”

“Lathi?” said Eldin, and Hero nodded.

“Zura? Kuranes? Gytherik? Serannian?” Nods to all.

“The Mad Moon? Yibb-Tstll—”

“Eh?” said Hero. “Yibb-who?”

“Hah!” Eldin prodded again.

Chim Nedlar, looking very pale, gave a little shriek and quickly spilled the rest of the beans—spilled the rest of Hero’s memory and being back into him. And: “That’s it, that’s all, I swear it!” he finally cried.

“Not by a long shot,” said Hero darkly, entirely entire again.

Eldin didn’t understand.

But Chim Nedlar did. “You’re out to destroy me,” he whispered, his lips aquiver.

“Too true,” Hero agreed, “one way or the other. My turn, Eldin.” He unsheathed his slender, curved Kledan sword with a steely whisper, held its keen edge to Nedlar’s windpipe. “Let’s start with Shallis Tull,” he said.

Weeping and babbling, and cursing a lot between stories, the vampire retold Tull’s tales, and so revitalized the man. In a little while something more than a ghost came bowling up from belowdecks, beard bristling and eyes ablaze—with astonishment, with joy! “It’s coming back!” Cap’n Tull cried. “I’m coming back!”

And as he in turn filled out, so Chim Nedlar continued to diminish.

After Tull, in short order, it was the turn of Eelor Tush, vintner extraordinaire; but he did not materialize here but in Baharna, no doubt. Then Tark the Tall, mountain man, who probably came back clinging to some pinnacle somewhere. And Geerblas Ulm, doubtless fattening out in one of his favorite underworlds; and so on, and so on …

Finally Chim Nedlar was a wisp. Toward the end he’d been unstoppable (the siphon principle again) and simply spilled all the life he’d taken in back out into dreamland’s aether, through which it sped back to its rightful dreamers. They knew when he’d told all, for his eyes—about as invisible now as the S.W.I.E.’s—suddenly went extremely vacant.

He floated to his feet, leaving his voluminous shirt and empty clogs behind, and looked this way and that without recognizing anyone or anything. Then, seeing Hero, Eldin, Shallis Tull, perhaps he did remember something. He backed off from them, passed through the ship’s strakes and stood for a moment on thin air over misted, unknown chasms of night. Then he began to fall, and falling dispersed entirely.

A thin, thin cry of empty frustration and lost longing drifted back to them. Or maybe it was only the wind rising in the crags, blowing the mist away in tatters which vanished almost as quickly as Chim Nedlar …

SITTING IN SUNLIGHT upon a pile of nets where they dried on the wharf side, Hero and Eldin watched Shallis Tull painting out Shark’s Fin on the upper outside port strakes of The Silver Fish. He’d promised to sail them back to Celephais, but not until his vessel bore her rightful name once more.

Meanwhile, Eldin had told his own tale, which Hero didn’t steal but merely listened to: told how he’d crashed among the crags and his flotation bag was bust; how he’d clung to a ledge while his numbed arm regained its strength and feeling; how then he’d yelled himself hoarse, yelled till he had no voice left to yell with, for the better part of a day and night. But when the mist had thinned a little he’d seen his way clear to climb up from the chasm, to where the S.W.I.E. had found him hungry, thirsty, and a bit banged-about, but otherwise well, and helped him up on to the back of his yak.

Then, on their way down to Baharna, they’d spied the Shark’s Fin and heard Hero’s and Chim Nedlar’s shouting. Following voices and fading searchlight beam both, soon they’d come to the place where the sky-ship was anchored. By then all was silent.

Eldin would have called to those aboard but couldn’t: he had no voice.

And anyway, the S.W.I.E. had cautioned him: “Something’s wrong here! I can smell it!”

Following which Eldin had shinned soundlessly up the anchor chain … and the rest is known.

“Who was he, d’you suppose?” Now the Wanderer wanted to know. Hero shrugged. “Someone from the waking world, I should think. Somehow, when his time was up, he found his way here. Maybe he was the kind who lives on the glories of others. You can find his like in any bar you choose: poor souls whose own lives are so drab they may only color them with the lives of others—whose nature it is to bask in the glow of adventures they’ve never experienced for themselves, except as recounted by their heroes. And in his transition from waking- to dreamworlds, his dependency grew strong while his will weakened. Until he emerged here as a weird sort of vampire, as—”

“A stealer of dreams?”

“That’s my guess, anyway.” Hero nodded.

Eldin said: “Hmmm!” and changed the subject. “Well, lad, it strikes me I’ve saved your life—again.”

Hero snorted. “It was you put it at risk in the first place!” he accused. “You drunken old—”

“Not so much of the ‘old,’ if you please!” Eldin cut him short.

“And that’s the end of that, too!” said Hero, threateningly.

“Eh? End of what?”

“Boozing! We’ve done much too much of it. It’s what started all of this in the first place.”

“What!” Eldin was aghast.

“No more muth,” Hero declared.

“You’re joking! What about wine?”

“No,” Hero pursed his lips, shook his head. “All booze is out—as of now.”

“Immediately?” There was a frog in Eldin’s throat.

(A moment’s silence.) “Tomorrow.”

“Good!” The older quester’s grin split his face. “’Cos right now I’ve a hell of a thirst on. How about a pint?”

“I could murder one.” Hero sighed …

The Dreamland Series

An A to Z Concordance

BY W. PAUL GANLEY

Atal. Sole survivor of a long-ago attempt to climb Hatheg-Kla, where the meek gods of Earth once frolicked (as documented by H. P. Lovecraft). Now fully three centuries old, and himself a legend in dreamland, Atal serves as priest in the Temple of the Elder Ones in Ulthar.

Bahama. A mighty port city, located on the Isle of Oriab. Even the wharves are made of porphyry, and one wharfside tavern is sometimes frequented by Eldin.

Celephais. A city in Dreamland, located on the Southern Sea, in the valley of Ooth-Nargai, beyond the Tanarian hills. Here reigns King Kuranes for half of each year.

Cerenerian Sea. Where ships bound for Serannian sail up into the sky.

Crow, Titus. Titus Crow’s visit to the Dreamlands has become legendary, but it takes place before these novels begin (in The Clock of Dreams, which is not part of the Dreamlands series but belongs to an earlier series known variously as the Titus Crow cycle or the Cthulhu Mythos series). He is often mentioned in the Dreamlands books, however.

Cthulhu. One of the Great Old Ones who seeped down from the stars long before mankind existed. Imprisoned in the city of R’lyeh, on a sunken island in the waking world, “Great Cthulhu Waits Dreaming,” until the stars are right and he awakens to claim his rightful domain—the whole world. (See Crow, Titus and. Lovecraft, H. P.)

de Marigny, Henri. Titus Crow’s “sidekick,” who reaches the Dreamlands by an unique method: using the “time-clock,” a space-time device described in the books about Titus Crow. His visit, like Crow’s, is now a legend of Dreamland. He is not a character in the Dreamlands series, although his name is occasionally mentioned.

Dingle, Leonard. A professor of psychology and anthropology in the waking world. He delivers public lectures upon the meaning of dreams. In Dreamland, L. Dingle becomes Eldin, a Dreamland word for “wanderer,” hence his Dreamland name of “Eldin the Wanderer.” (See Eldin)

The Dreamlands. A multiverse created by the dreaming of various inhabitants of the waking world, including human beings and others such as The King in Yellow, Cthulhu, and Nyarlathotep (see Earth’s Dreamland).

The Dreamlands Series. This term is used to designate the four books entitled Hero of Dreams, Ship of Dreams, Mad Moon of Dreams, and Iced on Aran. Two other stories exist but have not yet been collected in book form. They originally appeared in Weirdbook magazine entitled “The Weird Wines of Naxas Niss” and “Stealer of Dreams.”

Dylath-Leen. A city on the river Skai, which has a bad reputation, partly because of the mysterious ships, from which come oddly shaped traders.

Earth’s Dreamland. That portion of the Dreamlands created by the dreams of Earth’s inhabitants. Often spoken of merely as “Dreamland.”

Elder Gods. Before mankind existed, the Elder Gods conquered and imprisoned Cthulhu and the other Great Old Ones.

Elder Ones. This term may mean the benign Elder Gods (cf. Temple of the Elder Ones). However, it may also denote far more sinister deities such as the “Great Old Ones,” who are the exact opposite. Be aware of the context in which this term is used.

Eldin the Wanderer. A waking-worlder in Dreamland. Like David Hero, Eldin is a swordsman/adventurer in Dreams, who lives two lives, in effect, one in the Dreamlands, the other in the waking world. However, while in the waking world, he is able to recall somewhat more of the Dreamlands than Hero; likewise, in Dreamland he can recall somewhat more of the waking world. In the waking world, he seems to make a living by lecturing upon the nature of dreams. Rescued by Hero from an attack by spider-hounds, he becomes Hero’s best friend and steadfast companion. (See Dingle, Leonard)

Elysia. Mysterious and wonderful, it is the home of the Elder Gods, apparently neither in our universe nor in the Dreamlands.

Enchanted Forest. Also known as the Enchanted Wood, located in Upper Dreamland. Inhabited by Zoogs.

Gate of Deeper Slumber. The usual route to Dreamland, taken by an experienced dreamer like Eldin the Wanderer. One goes down the seven hundred steps to the gate of deeper slumber. On the other hand, Hero was content to let his dreams take him where they would.

ghasts. Repulsive beings which die in the light, and which live in the vaults of Zin. They leap on long hind legs like kangaroos.

ghouls. Creatures of the night, vaguely man-like, who live on the flesh of corpses. They haunt the graveyards that lie poised on the boundary between the Dreamlands and the waking world. Occasionally they leave changelings to be raised as human.

gnorri. Finny and bearded, they swim in the Twilight Sea below the cliffs of Ilek-Vad.

Great Old Ones. Beings such as Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep, or Yibb-Tstll, who seeped down from the distant stars when the Earth was young, before the human race existed.

The Great Tree. A very large, sentient tree. They originated on a far world that was destroyed, but a few of their life-leaves were saved by Ardatha Ell.

gugs. Hairy and gigantic beings that were banished to the underworld beneath the Enchanted Forest, where their enormous city lies. They usually subsist on ghasts, though they also find mortal dreamers especially tasty.

Hatheg-Kla. A mountain located in the stony desert, upon which the Gods of Earth were wont to frolic in older times. To see them, Atal the Ancient and Barzai the Wise climbed up (but only Atal clambered back down again). This is another legend of Dreamland.

Hero, David, aka Hero of Dreams. First met by the reader while David Hero is adventuring in the northern uplands of Dreamland. He is a waking-worlder who cannot clearly recall the waking world while dreaming, and cannot clearly recall Dreamland while awake (until he encounters Professor L. Dingle). In the waking world, Hero is a British artist who makes his home in Edinburgh, Scotland, in a converted attic on Dalkieth Road. He paints weird, unearthly scenes, such as fantastic cities for which he “invents” such titles as DylathLeen and Ilek-Vad. All seem somehow familiar to him, though he cannot comprehend why they should.

Ilek-Vad. A Dreamland city on the Twilight Sea.

Isle of Oriab. Located in the Southern Sea, where stands Mount Ngranek.

Kadath in the Cold Waste. A vast plateau rumored to exist somewhere toward the north of the Dreamlands. There is found the gigantic onyx castle of the Other Gods; a place best not approached by any human dreamer. (See “The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath,” by H.P. Lovecraft)

King Kuranes. Formerly a waking-worlder, Kuranes now rules in Dreamland, splitting his time between Celephais and Serannian. He is often called “Lord of Ooth-Nargai, Celephais, and the sky around Serannian.”

Kled. Hero bears a curved blade from jungled Kled. The Kledans are small, brown-skinned people primarily known as traders.

Koth. Eldin likes to swear by “Koth’s awful sign.” This monstrous symbol is displayed in bas-relief above the entrance to the Tower of Koth, which contains the huge stone steps leading to Upper Dreamland and the Enchanted Wood.

The Larvae of the Other Gods. Pawing, groping, hideous, shapeless, drifting things that lurk in the outer spaces.

Leng. A northern plateau of ill-repute, which is home to some of Dreamland’s vilest inhabitants, such as the squat, horned wide-mouthed beings.

Lovecraft, H(oward) P(hillips). An innovative American horror writer, who originally wrote of the Dreamlands in a number of short pieces and in his novella, “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.”

Mount Aran. Located near Celephais, the peak retains its cap of snow even in summer; because of some magical property of timelessness, it resents or resists change.

Night-Gaunts. Faceless, with rubbery skin and leathery wings, these unpleasant beings are generally considered evil, as indeed they are if controlled by a Great Old One. But they may be controlled by a human if he knows how.

Ngranek. A mountain. Upon its solid face is carved a likeness of the gods of Earth. It is also known as the “gate to the underworld.”

Nyarlathotep. One of the Great Old Ones; known as their messenger. Believed by some to refer to their telepathic powers rather than being a living being. On the other hand, Randolph Carter did meet such an entity in “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath” (by H. P. Lovecraft).

Oon. Desert near Celephais.

Ooth-Nargai. In this valley lies the city of Celephais.

Parg. Source of the black slaves known as Pargans.

Pnakotic Manuscripts. Ancient pre-human book of evil magic. A copy is said to reside in the temple of the Elder Ones in Ulthar.

Primal Continent. Also known as Theem’hdra.

Sarkomand. Primal city once known both for the quality and potency of its wines. Otherwise, the location of Oorn’s temple, where Oorn herself is imprisoned in a deep shaft in the earth.

Serannian. A floating city located where the west wind flows into the sky.

Sky-island. A term that refers to the “land” beneath Serannian, a city that floats among the clouds.

Southern Sea, The. Lathi’s hive-city, Thalarion, is nearby. The Isle of Oriab is located in this Sea.

Temple of the Elder Ones. Located in Ulthar. Site of the one known complete surviving copy of the Pnakotic Manuscripts.

Theem’hdra. The primal continent of earth which existed at the dawn of time, when all the land masses were connected together. Theem’hdra is the locale of its own story cycle: House of Cthulhu and Other Tales of the Primal Land, The Compleat Khash I: Never a Backward Glance, and The Compleat Khash II: Sorcery in Shad.

time-clock. Crow’s term for an odd-looking device, something like a weird “grandfather’s clock,” which is actually an instrument of the Elder Gods. It can carry one through time, space, and even into realms beyond ordinary time and space, including the Drearnlands. (See Crow, Titus, and de Marigny, Henri).

tonds. The principal coinage of southeastern Dreamland. A tond is a triangular piece of gold.

Ulthar. A famous city in Dreamland. It lies near the banks of the river Skai. Located here is the famous (in Dreamland) Temple of the Elder Ones. In Ulthar it is unlawful for any man to kill a cat.

Zin. The vaults of Zin are home to (ugh!) ghasts.

zoogs. Weird-eyed brown creatures, secretive and furtive, who dwell in burrows or hollow tree trunks in the Enchanted Forest. They usually dine on mushrooms but also have a taste for other kinds of flesh.

Terms Used Initially in Hero of Dreams

Ariz, Aminza. Stolen from Ilek-Vad by a night-gaunt, this attractive young woman was a captive of Thinistor Udd . . . and later became Eldin’s betrothed.

Borak, Brain’. An outcast of the Ossaran Steppes, formerly a waking-worlder, now a wealthy schemer with a proposition for Hero and Eldin.

Cathuria. A splendid city that lies beyond the Basalt Pillars of the West.

Ell, Ardatha. A white wizard, last of his people from primal Pu-Tha. He is a “Chosen One” of the Elder Gods. Ardatha Ell found the race of Great Trees dying as their world froze and rescued a few of their life-leaves.

The First Ones. The original settlers of Theem’hdra. Certain of these powerful and mysterious beings are trapped in Dreamland.

The Great Bleak Mountains, aka The Great Bleak Range. Rumor had it that these are merely the foothills of that evil plateau, Kadath in the Cold Waste; but Hero and Eldin doubt this.

Hero of Dreams. David Hero’s name in Dreamland, earned in this volume.

Hritta and Nythlar. Thinistor Udd’s snow leopards, used as watchdogs by the wizard. They were killed when they attacked Hero and Eldin.

Inman, ZaZa (Miss). A somewhat mysterious young woman, thought to be a part-time worker with a visiting repertory company at the Edinburgh Festival.

Inquanok. A cold twilight land said to be close to unpleasant Leng. Onyx mines furnish the material of which cities and streets are built, and the natives show the unmistakable features of the gods of earth. (See Mount Ngranek.)

Klarek-Yam. A First One deranged by contact with Cthulhu; it was KlarekYam who originally stole the Wands of the First Ones.

Keep of the First Ones. A titanic monolith, in the form of a vast stone block, set in the Great Bleak Mountains.

The Keeper. He, or it, is left in charge of the Keep of the First Ones, while nine of the latter hibernate.

Lathi (aka “the Eidolon Lathi”). Apparently a beauteous woman, this Queen of Thalarion is as much termite as she is human.

life-leaf. A seedling of a Great Tree. Ardatha Ell planted a life-leaf in Earth’s Dreamland.

Nyrass. Wizard with a walled and high-turreted castle on the outskirts of Theelys.

The Other Gods. Also known as the Gods of Earth. Not to be confused with the powerful and evil Old Ones nor with the Elder Gods. The Other Gods are rather powerless beings who like to frolic atop mountains and sometimes come to Earth and mate with dream-humans. Do not confuse them, either, with the gods worshipped in major religions of the waking world (e.g., YWHW, Jesus, Allah, Brahma, Zeus). Perhaps they include the strange deities to be found in the books of Clark Ashton Smith and Lord Dunsany, but that is debatable.

Schrach, Gerhard. A philosopher/dreamer who had written on the reality of dreams as quoted in House of Dreams. He was ever at a loss to know which were more real: his dreams or his waking existence.

The Seer with Invisible Eyes. In Bahama, he predicted Eldin’s first meeting with David Hero.

Soomus the Seventh of the Seventh. Distant ancestor of Nyrass; the greatest wizard of all the Dreamlands then and now.

spider-hounds. Monstrous, poisonous, six-legged insect-like predators about the size of a hound. They run in packs and woe betide any lone traveler whom they attack.

ter-men. Also written termen. These are the so-called men of Lathi’s brood, who inhabit Thalarion. As much termites as men, perhaps.

Thalarion. In demon-cursed Thalarion, the Eidolon Lathi rules a monstrous hive of horror.

Udd, Thinistor. Ancient wizard-priest to Yibb-Tstll, he has discovered a wand of the first ones and hopes to gain great power and youth. A cousin to Nyrass.

Wand (of Thinistor Udd). One of the wands of the First Ones, found by Thinister Udd in the caverns of Yibb-Tstll’s temple. It possesses strange and mighty powers.

Wands of the First Ones. The three Wands of Power are used in powering and directing the flight of the Keep of the Old Ones (which is really a kind of space-time vehicle not unlike the time-clock used by Crow and de Marigny). It was one such wand that gave Thinistor Udd much of his immense wizardly prowess.

Yath-Lhi. A legendary evil princess. (See Iced On Aran.)

Yibb-Tstll. (At least once written as Yib Tstll.) Yibb-Tstll is a dark god (one of the Great Old Ones), with a temple high in the Great Bleak Mountains. He is sometimes known as “Lord of Gaunts.”

Terms Used Primarily in Ship of Dreams
air baths. Pools of weightless, swirling vapour, in which a weightless person may experience something Eldin calls a “free-fall sauna.”

Andahad. A small, wealthy seaport on the Isle of Oriab; hometown of Ula and Una.

Carter, Randolph. This Dreamland King of Ilek-Vad was a great dreamer, whose exploits have been recorded by H. P. Lovecraft (see, “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.”) Some say Carter is Lovecraft.

The Curator. Curator of the Museum on the sky-island. Made of metal, he is vaguely man-like: thin, tall, spiky, lumpy, shiny, and tough-looking, with many arms (to foil thieves, perhaps) and odd crystal eyes. He always seems to know when a theft is attempted.

dholes. Blind and apparently deaf, these monstrous creatures hunt their prey in the darkness of Pnoth by scent alone. The flea-like pests that infest them are the size of rats.

firestones. No, they are not rubber tires. They are similar to flints for striking sparks to ignite a fire. Think of them as primitive cigarette lighters.

flotation compartments or chambers. These gigantic underground chambers contain the Essence which provides buoyancy for the sky-island. Much smaller flotation compartments are used in the sky-armadas.

flotation essence. The antigravity gas which provides buoyance for the skyships and for the sky-island of Serannian. It is nullified by Zura’s green gas.

Gidduf, Ham. Father of Ula and Una, a wealthy and influential man from Bahama. He is far from happy to learn that they have been kidnapped (or so it seemed) by Hero and Eldin.

Gidduf, Ula. One of twin maidens, she preferred Hero to her intended spouse.

Gidduf, Una. One of twin maidens, she preferred Eldin to her intended spouse.

green gas. Its anti-anti-gravity effect nullifies the properties of Essence, destroying its buoyancy.

grim. Just as we have a pod of whales, a gaggle of geese, etc., so do we have a grim of gaunts.

Imniss, Gytherik. Nephew of that evil wizard, and priest of Yibb-Tstll: Thinistor Udd.

Imniss, Irik. Grandfather of Gytherik, father of Mathur.

Imniss, Mathur. Father of Gytherik and half-brother of Thinistor Udd. Not a wizard at all.

Isharra, Dukes of. Perhaps Byharrid-Imon Isharra and Gathnod-Natz’ill Isharra are not true royalty; nevertheless, they do own a gold mine in Isharra. These twin dukes of Isharra were betrothed to Ula and Una.

Isharra. Supposedly a backward land, inhabited by people who are reputed to be “ugly as hell,” to use Eldin’s terminology.

Iztar-Iln. Ancient land in the Dreamworld, known primarily for its liqueurs and brandies.

Lythta, Messid. Serannian Councillor in charge of Services and Amenities, including the city’s work force.

Merrinay, Allain. Serannian Councillor in charge of security.

Misha. Arkim Sallai’s daughter, who is no better than she should be, especially when Hero of Dreams appears.

The Museum. A circular structure which perches high on a promontory at the eastern end of the sky island. There is only one means of access, which discourages thieves.

Nard, Garess. Betrothed to Misha.

Nith, Leewas. High Magistrate of Celephais.

Oormell, Ulphar. Harbormaster at Serannian’s sky harbour.

Peaks of Throk. The topmost pillars of mountains whose roots are supposed to extend to the pits at the earth’s core.

Priests of Zura. Gray-robed, cowled, bearing a fetid odor.

ray-projectors. Used on Kuranes’ warships, they emit brilliant beams of light that are effective against all manner of evil and nightmarish life in the Dreamlands. (Zombies, however, are not alive.)

The Running Thing. From the depths of his waking-world memory, Eldin identifies it as oniscus porcellion, a wood louse! But this is no ordinary wood louse. It’s a gigantic version, of which even the dholes are fearful. Luckily, it is a music lover, and Hero has a good singing voice.

Sallai, Arkim. Owner of a worm-eaten tavern in Celephais; father of Misha.

shewstone. Also known as the “show stone.” A kind of crystal used by wizards for observing events distant in time or space.

Smith, Chelos. Serannian Councillor and consultant on crime and crime prevention.

The Stickistuff Sea. If you have ever dreamed you were running through molasses and monstrous things were chasing you, and you could scarcely make progress through the viscous tarry stuff, then you have already visited Dreamland’s Stickistuff Sea. If you are reading this, you must have awakened just in time.

Sub-Serannian. A pun used by Hero to mean the subterranean engine rooms which supply the flotation chambers of the sky-island with gravity-defying essence.

Thagweed. For those Dreamlanders who like smoking a pipe, this is what they will like smoking. A mild narcotic similar to marijuana.

The Tilt. The sky-city, Serannian, is not perfectly horizontal. As it floats, it tilts by a small angle and gradually changes direction like a precessing top. It completes one tilt-rotation in a period of six hours. If the Tilt is aimed right, one may coast on a bicycle (without pedals) to one’s destination.

Vale of Pnoth. Deep underground caverns littered with piles of bones licked clean by the hungry dholes.

Zura the Land. A forbidden region of the Dreamlands that lies beyond Thalanion. References to the mysterious place include “The Charnel Gardens of Zura,” “Zura’s Dead Legions,” and “The Land of Pleasures Unattained.” All who die in horror and loathing rise from their graves eventually to end as zombies in Zura the Land.

Zura of Zura. A living woman who (as a result of potent sorcery) rules in Zura the Land. She is variously known as “Queen of the Land of Zura,” “Mistress of Death,” “Princess of Death and Disaster,” etc.

Terms Used Primarily in Mad Moon of Dreams

Aarl. A moon-moth youth, life-mate of Eeth.

Coppos, Arra. Councillor to King Carter of Ilek-Vad.

Cumulus. A ship of Ilek-Vad, one of the sky-fleet under the command of Admiral Limnar Dass.

de Marigny, Etienne-Laurent. Father of Henri Laurent de Marigny, a close friend of Titus Crow. De Marigny fils was one of the greatest Dreamers, and he has gone dreaming far beyond Earth’s own Dreamland into hitherto unknown realms.

dome. Often used to refer to a dome of force surrounding Ilek-Vad, general protection against most marauding evildoers. But it is permeable to light, even the light of the Mad Moon.

Dymnai. Governor of the city of Dylath-Leen.

Eeth. A moon-maid. She is a moon-moth, a species indigenous to the moon of Dreamland. Moon-moths are natural prey to the moonbeasts, who find them very tasty. Even in her chrysalis, Eeth possesses telepathic abilities and can converse with humans and even with a Great Tree.

E’tan. Captain of King Carter’s “Royal Yacht” of Ilek-Vad.

gaunt-master. Master of a grim of gaunts; Yibb-Tstll might be so designated, but the term is more often used in reference to Gytherik.

Gleeth. The smiling serene god of the full moon, often worshipped in Theem’hdra. Blind and deaf, he is an elemental god of that primitive land, but he is not evil.

Gnorri II. Successor to Captain Limnar Dass’s man-o-war, Gnorri, lost in the battle at Serannian against the black ships from Zura.

The Great Sleep. Also known as Dreams in Dreams. While asleep in Dreamland anyone can, of course, dream. But accomplished waking-world dreamers like Randolph Carter and Etienne-Laurent de Marigny can go further than this: They can enter the “Great Sleep,” while in Earth’s Dreamland, to pass beyond to other realms . . . perhaps never to return.

Gulfstream of Air. So termed by Eldin, this is a vast region of warmish winds flowing from Earth to Moon (in the Dreamlands, of course). Thus the skyflotillas of earth can sail to the moon and back.

High Priest of Oorn. A lumpish, cloaked figure, he communicates with his acolyte by blowing weird pipings on a black flute-like instrument. Almost certainly he is a moonbeast.

homo ephemerans. Eldin’s term for the native-born people of Dreamland who are generally smaller and less forceful in personality than the waking-worlders adventuring in Dream. Or so it is said.

horned ones. Man-like beings from Leng. These “almost-humans” often pose as traders, with their heads wrapped in oddly-shaped turbans, and indeed they oft times have sailed to Dylath-Leen to trade giant rubies for gold and Pargan slaves.

Hrill. Captain of a black galley from Leng. One of the horned-ones, he is unfortunate enough to encounter Hero and Eldin.

Killik, Jahn. A friend of Arra Coppos of Ilek-Vad. A metallurgist.

Mnomquah. Not to be confused with Gleeth, he is also worshipped as a god of the moon. Actually he is a lizard-like entity, one of the Great Old Ones imprisoned by the Elder Gods within the moon of Earth’s Dreamland.

Moon. A much different orb than the moon of the waking world. Its inhabitants are definitely unsavory, as Randolph Carter once found. (See “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.”) Suddenly, in the third Dreamlands book, it becomes even worse: a “mad” moon . . . or a moon of madness.

Moontree. A Great Tree, rooted on the moon of Earth’s Dreamland. One of the few survivors of the original home world of the Great Trees.

moonbeasts. The toad-like, tentacled moonbeasts are inhabitants of the moon of Earth’s Dreamland, as their very name suggests. They are the true masters of the horned-ones. They themselves worship Mnomquah and serve as his wizard-priests.

Oorn. One of the Great Old Ones, imprisoned in a deep pit in the primal city of Sarkomand, located in Earth’s Dreamland. She awaits rescue by her mate, Mnomquah.

Place of the Pit. Also known as Place of the Priest or Place of Propitiation. These terms refer to primal Sarkomand. Here is the ancient temple of Oorn. Here, in a deep shaft or pit, languishes Oorn herself, who was imprisoned there by the Elder Gods.

Shantak birds. Enormously huge fliers indigenous to such places as Leng and the moon; often ridden and controlled by beings of ill omen such as moonbeasts.

Sniffer. A night-gaunt. Gytherik named two of his gaunts Sniffer and Biffer. The former can follow trails and scents like an airborne bloodhound (though gaunts do not have faces, let alone noses). The latter possesses an un-gaunt-like aggressiveness (that is, he is a fighter).

Tu, Eeril. Master of the Dome surrounding Ilek-Vad, he became a hero in his own right when the Moonbeam struck.

Ubboth, Black Lake of. Mnomquah’s sanctuary (and former prison) at the heart of the Mad Moon.

wand-snakes. Twisting tendrils of magic which search the moon-caves for Hero and Eldin. They are formed using the magic wands of Mnomquah’s moonbeast-wizards. In Hero of Dreams, Thinistor Udd used a similar kind of wand for a similar purpose. The wand-snakes of the moonbeasts can turn whole skyships into stone, and they can have a similar effect on living beings.

Terms Used Primarily In Iced On Aran

Note that the book Iced On Aran is not a novel but a collection of five stories. Three are relatively short; the other two are quite long. The stories are: “Iced On Aran,” “Augeren,” “A Day In the Life . . .,” “A-Mazed in Oriab,” and “Tale’s Tail,” in that order. Items listed below are not identified by individual story.

“Ancient Dreamlands.” A term that refers to the primal language (and its written script) of the Dreamlands. Eldin, who had been a professor in the waking world, is one of the few men who can still decipher it.

Augeren. A vampire-like creature who sucks the marrow from the bones of the living.

Barba, aka Buxom Barba. Proprietress of The Quayside Quaress in Bahama. She is known (among other things) for the ability to drink up to five sailors under the table (seriatim).

The Craven Lobster. Lippy Unth’s place, a low tavern in Bahama, serving the worst drinks in Bahama to the sleaziest crowd in Bahama.

Cuff. A fisherman who had grown old in Celephais (where most Dreamlanders stay young). He disappeared, and was presumed drowned.

D’harsis. One of Dreamland’s greatest mages, ere his daemonic demise.

Downs of D’haz. Located beneath Luz, it is here that the halflings dwell.

Druff, Zubda. A slave-master collaborating with Raffis Can on an archeological project near Lake Yath.

Fourth Book of D’harsis. Only Atal has deciphered this ancient volume, which predicts the demise of all the dreamlands, among other events.

Gan, Raffis. Son of Tellis Gan, he has succeeded his father as Lord Regulator.

Gan, Tellis. The former Lord Regulator of Bahama, honest and greatly admired by all.

the gaunt gray peaks. Mountains located between Leng and Inquanok. The range forms an aerie for Shantak birds. Definitely not Hero and Eldin’s favorite vacation spot.

halflings. Products of forced breeding between men of Dreamland and less human creatures (such as female tick-men).

The “iceman.” An old carver who sculpts figures in the ice of Mount Aran . . . very lifelike figures indeed!

Lengites. Non-human inhabitants of Leng.

Luz. Uppermost level of the underworld in this part of the Dreamlands, Luz is inhabited (so Augeren tells) by the “elite” of those sunless regions.

Luz, Lords of. They guard the fissure that leads to the Downs of D’haz. They train gaunts to kidnap men for sinister purposes.

muth. Also known as muth-dew. A strong drink (a muth hangover can last two days or more).

Naraxa. A river that flows into the Southern Sea that flows into the Cerenerian Sea.

Nees, Tatter. A wandering balladeer from Nir.

Nort, Heger. A burly bearded trader; a leader among the Inquanok insurgents who had requested aid from King Kuranes.

Palace of the Seventy Delights. King Kuranes’s first dwelling in Dreamland. Tired of pomp, and homesick for the waking world, he moved into his Cornish manorhouse.

Pits of the Unknown Things. The nethermost level. It lies beneath the dinosaur boneyard (the dhole ossuary), which lies beneath the Downs of D’haz, which lie beneath Luz, which lies beneath the gaunt gray peaks near Inquanok.

Regulators. The Bahama city police.

scabfish. Eel-like fish that frequent wrecks. Touching one produces a scab at the contact point. In Bahama it is best to obey any “No Swimming” signs.

s.w.i.e. An amusing acronym for the Seer With Invisible Eyes, a kind of guru for Eldin (and later, Hero).

tick-men (includes females). Parasites who live on dholes; possibly they were once human, but no longer.

Tyrhhia. Legendary city once ruled by Yath-Lhi.

Url. Worms which live in D’haz. They are as large as men.

Veiled King. The Kings of Inquanok always go veiled, as do their priests. These beings are mysteries not only to the outside world but even to their own subjects.

Veiled Priests. Their word is law in Inquanok; they serve the Veiled King.

Voorpin, Geez. Presumably a master of the dingaphon, a musical instrument of some kind.

War of the Mad Moon. A desperate battle to save all of Dreamland from destruction; see Mad Moon of Dreams.

Yath. An inland lake in Bahama. There are many weird tales associated with ancient ruins near Yath. Could this possibly be the site of Tyrhhia?

Yath-Lhi. Also known as the “Black Princess”—“black” as in “black magic.” Long, long ago she ruled in Tyrhhia, building a huge underground maze, reputedly to store all the treasures of her city. After she died (if it was true death!), her nation died also . . . for no one could find the treasure.

The Primal Land Series

An A to Z Concordance

BY W. PAUL GANLEY

The House of Cthulhu and Other Tales of the Primal Land was first published by Weirdbook Press as a limited edition. Later it was reprinted as a British paperback. However, there are important differences between the two editions. (1) The two “Tarra Khash” novelettes were removed, since they are more properly part of The Compleat Khash, Volume I, in which they also appeared. (2) Another story was inserted, which had not appeared in the Weirdbook Press books. This was reprinted from a magazine publication, The Weirdbook Sampler, and is entitled “To Kill a Wizard.” It is a short story about the wizard Mylakhrion of Tharamoon. The version employed in the British paperbacks is followed here.

Arlyeh. Island of nameless ruins located in mid-ocean between the Frostlands and Klühn. Here was to be found the forbidden and forbidding House of Cthulhu. Presumably identical with the sunken isle of R’lyeh reported by H.P. Lovecraft in his monograph, “The Call of Cthulhu.”

Atht, Teh. A sorcerer who lived in Klühn, a city of primal Theem’hdra. He specialized in white magic as opposed to black. Or, anyway, pretty nearly white. Teh Atht was a remote descendant of the famed Mylakhrion of Tharamoon.

Atlantis. Supposedly a continent, or an island-continent, which was submerged by the Atlantic Ocean thousands of years ago. Plato reports in his dialogues Kritias and Timaios that certain Egyptian priests had recorded the catastrophe in their historical annals; from them the knowledge passed to Solon and ultimately to Plato.

Azathoth. The Daemon-Sultan. A blind idiot-god who rules at the center of chaos and whose name no lips dare speak aloud. One of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities.

Baroom. God of the Avalanche, often invoked by the savage Northmen.

Bay of Klühn. The River Lohr flows into the southern part of this bay, just where the city of Klühn is situated.

Bay of Monsters. Located in the Southern Ocean, near where it becomes the Eastern Ocean.

Black Isle. A place of mystery in the northeastern portion of Theem’hdra.

Bhur-esh. A city that was destroyed by one of the two active volcanoes in Theem’hdra. It is located on the west coast of Theem’hdra, south of the River Thand.

Byakhee. An eldritch bird which can be used as a steed by one who knows how to summon it. (This technique involves the use of a silver whistle, a potion, and an invocation to Hastur.) It can be the key to travel between Earth and other-dimensional spaces—or perhaps to utter doom.

The Chill Sea. Probably actually an ocean, it lies north of the Reef of Great Whales.

Chlangi. Known as the Shunned City. When the Lamia Orbiquita built her castle nine miles away in the Desert of Sheb, honest men abandoned their homes and moved far away.

Cthon. God of the underworld who, every dusk, catches the sun in his net.

Cthulhu. One of the Great Old Ones who seeped down from the stars to occupy the Earth, not millions but billions of years ago, long before the existence of mankind. The Elder Gods imprisoned Cthulhu and the other Great Old Ones in various places in the multiverse, even in Dreamland. And even today, Cthulhu waits dreaming in his undersea city, R’lyeh, until that day when he and the others will be free of their prisons.

Desert of Sheb. Located to the north between the Mountains of Lohmi and the Great Eastern Peaks.

Elder Gods. Mysterious powerful beings who at some distant time, even before Theem’hdra existed, imprisoned the immortal Great Old Ones in various submarine places (Cthulhu is in R’lyeh, for instance), within the Earth, within Dreamland, in various places in outer space, and in other space-time continua.

Ell, Ardatha. A traveller in time and space, who came from another world. He lived for a while in the Great Circle Mountains.

Eyphra. City on the Lesser Marl, near the Mountains of Lohmi.

The Frostlands. This region lies in the far northeastern part of Theem’hdra, near the Great Ice Barrier.

Ghatanothoa. One of the Great Old Ones, a dark and doomful god. There is a temple to him in Eyphra.

Gleeth. A god of the moon, said to be blind and deaf; a benevolent god but often asleep. To the Suhm-yi Gleeth was especially important, for he was adviser to their gods and Elder of their heavenly council. Gleeth is sometimes confused with another god of the moon, Mnomquah.

Great Circle Mountains. In the central portion of Theem’hdra, the Great Circle Mountains surround the Crater Sea.

Great Crater Sea. This large sea lies within the Great Circle Mountains; it was once the throat of a vast volcano, now extinct.

The Greater Marl. A river located about 400 miles east of the mammoth plains. It flows northward from the Great Crater Sea toward the Reef of Whales and the Chill Sea. The city of Khrissa is located on the Greater Marl.

Great Ice Barrier. A region of glaciers located far to the north of Theem’hdra.

Great Old Ones. The Cthulhu Cycle Deities. They seeped down to Earth from other galaxies long before life appeared on the newly-formed planet. But they were imprisoned by the Elder Gods (or Gods of Eld) in various places, since they could not be killed. Beware: the shortened appellation Old Ones may not always refer to these beings.

Grypha. A massive-walled city at the mouth of the Lohr.

Gustau, Thelred. A dedicated scholar, archaeologist, geologist, and student of the Earth’s vast, almost unknowable prehistory. It was he who unveiled the mysteries of Theem’hdra, the primal continent. (Oddly, or perhaps not, the letters in Gustau’s name are anagrammatical of August Derleth’s.)

Hastur. One of the Old Ones, i.e., one of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities, but somewhat inimical to Cthulhu himself.

Hjarpon Settlement. Located near the fjords and lochs to the northwest, near the Teeth of Yib.

Hounds of Tindalos. Not real hounds, because they too are among the Cthulhu Cycle Deities, but they behave much like hounds. They were trapped, not in some far-flung portion of space, but within time itself. They are capable of breaking through into our normal portion of space-time only if there are appropriate sharp angles to help effect an entrance.

Hrossa, the Steppes of. These lie between the River Lohr and the Great Eastern Peaks, north of the Bay of Monsters.

Hrossaks. Skilled riders of fearsome lizards, the Hrossaks dwell in Hrossa, intermittently feuding with the armies of Grypha and the Yhemni. Tarra Khash was a Hrossak.

Ice-Gods. Their names are held secret by the priests of cold Khrissa, except for Baroom.

Inner Isles. Located in the Great Crater Sea, they were inhabited by Suhm-yi, a race of silver-gray beings who were not entirely human.

Ithaqua. One of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities. Known as the Wind-Walker, he was confined to walk the winds of space and the far northern part of the Earth. Perhaps the same as the Wendigo of primitive myth.

Keeps of the First Ones. Massive stone cubes hundreds of feet across, fabled to be the long-vacated houses of the world’s first race (not human).

Klühn. A city in eastern Theem’hdra; Klühn was the home of the sorcerer Teh Atht.

Khrissa. City of basalt slabs located at the mouth of the Greater Marl, east of the Mammoth Plains.

Legends of the Olden Runes. A prehistoric document written by Teh Atht, preserved for uncountable eons and finally discovered by Thelred Gustau.

Lamia. A supernatural creature formed by the alliance of a wizard and a demon. She could take the form of a beautiful maiden to lure men to their deaths. Her demonic form was rather unpleasant to behold.

Lohr. A mighty river near Klühn.

Mam. Mother of Gods.

Mammoth plains. Located to the North of the Great Circle Mountains.

Marsh of Slugs. A boggy nightmare of a region located to the east of the Great Crater Sea, within the Great Circle Mountains.

Mnomquah. God of the Moon and of Madness, commonly known as Gleeth. Scholars suggest, however, that some folk of Theem’hdra have confused two different moon gods, and that Gleeth is entirely different from Mnomquah, although both are worshipped as lunar deities. Indeed, we know that Mnomquah is one of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities, imprisoned in the moon of Earth’s Dreamland, whereas Gleeth is a more benevolent deity.

Mountains of Lohmi. Located to the north, between the Great Eastern Peaks and the Great Circle Mountains.

Mu. This lost continent, which presumably sank in the Pacific Ocean long ago, is described elsewhere in the voluminous writings of James Churchward. Some say it is another name for Lemuria, but others say that Lemuria was a smaller continent (whence the lemurs originated) which sank in the Indian Ocean.

Mylakhrion. Probably the greatest Theem’hdran wizard of all time; a white wizard (or maybe gray) who sought immortality from the wrong source.

Northmen. White-skinned barbarians from the northwestern part of Theem’hdra.

Pangaea. A name given by Alfred Wegener (who publicized the idea of continental drift, once thought a crackpot theory, but now—since the 1950s—well established by geologists) to a single continent from which the modern continents of Earth have broken off and drifted away. Pangaea existed about two hundred million years ago. Theem’hdra’s age has been variously estimated as from twenty million years (younger than Pangaea) to a dozen times that number or more (older than Pangaea).

Paps of Mam. Undulations in the coast of Theem’hdra, by the Southern Ocean, which resemble a pair of female breasts.

Pnakotic Manuscripts. A pre-human book of arcane truths, thought to be lost to modern man, though one copy does exist in Dreamland, safely stored in the archives of the Temple of the Elder Gods in Ulthar.

The Primal Land. See Theem’hdra.

Shadarabar. A jungle island, home (like Yhemnis) to the Yhemni tribes. Located off the southeastern coast of Theem’hdra.

Shad. Capital city of Shadarabar.

shewstone. A magic crystal which can display scenes distant in space or time.

Shoosh. Goddess of the Still Slumbers.

Shrewsbury, Dr. Laban. An expert on the Cthulhu mythos. His exploits are recorded in August Derleth’s historical treatise, The Trail of Cthulhu.

Shub-Niggurath. One of the Great Old Ones of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities. Known as the ram with a thousand ewes (but sometimes, oddly, as the goat with a thousand young).

Straits of Yhem. Narrow passage between the southeastern coast of Theem’hdra and the island of Shadarabar.

Suhm-yi. Not quite human folk who once lived peacefully among the Inner Isles of the Crater Sea. Their name means “rarely seen.”

Teeth of Yibb. An odd formation at the western part of Theem’hdra, near the fjords, where the coastline looks like an open mouth showing great teeth. Yibb is sometimes spelled Yib.

Thand. A river which flows from the Great Crater Sea to the Unknown Ocean.

Thandopolis. A city on the river Thand, it is located between the Great Circle Mountains and the Unknown Ocean.

Tharamoon. Mountain island which rises up, a needle peak, about ten miles out in the Chill Sea. There, in a massive castle of gray stone, lived the fabled wizard Mylakhrion the Elder.

Theem’hdra. A continent which existed perhaps twenty million years ago (perhaps a hundred million, or perhaps it was even older than that). There, nature experimented with various life forms, including mankind. Even then, Great Cthulhu waited, dreaming in R’lyeh. Was Theem’hdra that single continent known to geologists as Pangaea, when all the land masses of the earth were one? Was it the even older version which broke up originally, eventually to reform itself as Pangaea? Or did it come even before that . . . ?

Tsathoggua. The Toad Thing, imprisoned in an abyss in Hyperborea. One of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities.

The Unknown Ocean. It lies to the west of Bhur-Esh and indeed to the west of Theem’hdra.

Ubbo-Sathla. The Unbegotten Source. A mass without head or members. One of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities.

Uithar. A renowned city in Earth’s Dreamland, where no man may kill a cat. The site of the Temple of the Elder Ones where the elderly priest Atal still abides.

Uthmal. A lost land similar to Mu, Atlantis, Hyperborea, Lemuria, etc. Not to be confused with Uxmal, a lost city of the ancient Mayans.

weirdlings. Beings of strange aspect, or with strange powers, unknown to us today. Some of nature’s experiments when the earth was young.

Yaht-Haal. The Silver City. The only city outside of the continent of Theem’hdra, located in the Frostlands. When destroyed by Zar-Thule the Conqueror, it was soon covered with ice, since there were no wizardly priests to keep the glaciers at bay.

Yhemni. The dark-skinned inhabitants of Yhemnis and Shadarabar.

Yhemnis. Home to dark-skinned Yhemni slavers and pirates. A splendidly barbaric city of gold, ivory, and ironwood.

Yibb-Tstll. An Old One; one of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities. Also known as the Soul Eater, the Soul Stealer, the Dark Deity, and the Master of Gaunts. Barred by the Elder Gods from entering Earth’s universe, he could nevertheless make appearances through various simulacra (or idols) worshipped by foolish sects . . . as indeed could other deities, such as Ahorra Izz.

Yog-Sothoth. Occasionally spelled Yogg-Sothoth. The Lurker at the Threshold, imprisoned Outside in chaos with Azathoth. One of the Cthulhu Cycle Deities.

Zar-Thule. An unwise reaver who sought the priceless treasure of the House of Cthulhu.

Volume One: The House of Cthulhu and Other Tales of the Primal Land.

Ank, Humbuss. A maddened Northman, a berserker, who lives only to kill wizards.

Ank, Gubba. Mother of Humbus Ank. Slain by Khrissan ice-priests.

Ank, Guz. Brother of Humbuss Ank. Slain by Khrissan ice-priests.

Ank, Thull. Father of Humbuss Ank. Slain by Khrissan ice-priests.

An’noona. Chief of the N’dola pygmies.

Arborass. A Yhemni magus, a fire-wizard, with evil intentions toward the folk of New Bhur-Esh.

Atmaas (The Knowing One). Also known as Atmaas of the Ugly Head. Pygmy youth with a head of almost acromegalic proportions. He spoke the common language of Theem’hdra, unlike the rest of the N’dola tribe.

Ayniss. An orphan lad of New Bhur-Esh . . . the only one to divine Arborass’s purpose in going to the volcanic isle of Ashtah.

Cush-had. One of Zar-thule’s reavers, who made the error of touching Hath Vehm, whom it was forbidden to touch.

Demogorgnn. An infernal deity (from the Greek daimon, deity, and Gorgos, terrible).

Dreen, Eythor. Known throughout Theem’hdra as a great goldsmith. Earlier he had been an adventurer, prospecting for gold, and a bit of a prestidigitator as well.

Druth of Thandopolis. A wizard, formerly an apprentice to Imhlat the Great.

Fregg. Robber-king of Chlangi, the Shunned City.

gaunts. Shortened form of night-gaunts. Faceless, with rubbery skin and leathery wings, these unpleasant beings are usually considered evil, as they indubitably are when obeying Yibb-Tstll. They haunted H. P. Lovecraft’s dreams and are generally believed to exist in Dreamland.

Geph. Its broken columns are graven with cipherless hieroglpyhs.

Ghost Cliffs of Shildakor. Located to the extreme west of Theem’hdra, at the edge of the Unknown Ocean, near Bhur-Esh. A mile high, sheer and stark, they are supposedly unclimbable . . . and they are literally haunted.

Gustau, Eric. Son of Thelred Gustau. His hobby was wine-making.

Haag, Thasig. Watchman in the dungeons of Bhur-Esh, Thasig Haag was a slave, a Northman stolen as a youth.

Harpy. Hideous, winged monster with the head of a woman and the body of a bird, said to carry off the souls of the dead.

Hatr-ad the Adept. A wizard, formerly an apprentice to Imhlat the Great, and self-styled Mightiest Magician in All Theem’hdra.

House of Cthulhu. Set on the island of Arlyeh, actually a temple or fortress of tall black towers, twined at impossible angles unknown and beyond the ken of man. Presumably identical with the modern day R’lyeh.

Hreen Castle. Located in Thinhla, this castle with its domed turret was at one time the property of Hatr-ad the Adept.

Hroon, Burial Catacombs of. A place not known for the delicate perfume of its air.

Humquass. A fortress city located on Theem’hdra’s eastern strand, beyond the Steppes of Hrossa.

Imhlat the Great. Teacher of wizardry, who wasted away in a gray rot from the moon. Teh Atht was once apprenticed to Imhlat, as was Hatr-ad.

Kag, Gyriss. One of Mylakhrion’s familiars: a one-legged jackdaw of spiteful mien. Once he was a man and a slayer of wizards, but he made the error of attempting to kill one wizard too many.

K’mool, Exior. An apprentice to Mylakhrion of Tharamoon, who is widely supposed to have usurped his master’s place as the King’s Wizard in the city of Humquass. Prior to this position, Exior K’mool served as an apprentice to the ill-fated sorcerer, Phaithor Ull.

Leet, Azatta. A former apprentice to Mylakhrion many years (even centuries) before Exior K’mool, he became famous in his own right as a powerful wizard in old Chlangi.

Lila. A lady of the evening, in Bhur-Esh, who did not appreciate the finer points about Kank Thad (if he had any).

Lithatroll. The Numberless Rites of Lithatroll was a forgotten litany (except to a few wizards).

Lords of the Morass. Another term for the Slug-Gods of the N’dola Pygmies.

Loxzor. An accomplished Hrossak sorcerer of olden times; one of several opposed to Mylakhrion. Loxzor died of being eaten by a slime.

Moaning Menhir. A monumental stone, carven with runes, which issues moaning noises only a wizard might interpret.

Morgath. Warrior-king of Humquass. An intelligent man as well as a warrior.

Mount of the Ancients. A holy place not far to the west of Klühn, congenial to the summoning of spirits.

Mylakhrion’s Powder. Perhaps dried Zha-weed was one of the ingredients; no one knows. The merest pinch, taken as snuff, produces marvels galore.

N’dola. A tribe of pygmies who dwelled in the Morass. They wore ornaments of solid gold, worshipped giant slugs (and made immense golden slug-idols). They filed their teeth, as do cannibals.

Nen, Dhor. A wizard, formerly an apprentice to Imhlat the Great.

Nest of the Fanged Hawk. The aeyries of the Fanged Hawk tend to be wizardly retreats. Regrettably (or mayhap not), this species did not survive the breakup of the primal continent.

New Bhur-Esh. The city that was founded atop the lava flow which inundated the old city of Bhur-Esh.

Nid, Hethica. Owner of a tavern in Bhur-Esh.

Ninth Sathlatta. A magical rune, protective against all wizardly spells of evil intent. It was bequeathed to Teh Atht by his ancestor Mylakhrion the Great.

Nirhath, Halls of. The school of wizardry wherein Imhlat the Teacher held his classes.

N’tang Tapestries. Like the Necronomicon and the Pnakotic manuscripts, these tapestries conceal truths too hideous for mankind to learn.

Noth, Dilquay. A pimp who is a good friend of Tharquest of Klühn. He keeps a disreputable house in Chlangi.

Nuss, Veth. Veth Nuss the Mousy was a member of the High Court of Bhur-Esh.

Org the Awful. A daemon.

Ow-n-ow. Witch doctor of the N’dola pygmies, he was high priest to the sluggods.

Rune of Power. Like the Ninth Sathlatta, this is a protective spell given to Teh Atht by Mylakhrion, his ancestor. This spell is even more efficacious than the Ninth Sathlatta, but may be defeated if one’s enemy is also conversant with the nature of the spell.

Shildakor. A wizard of ancient Bhur-Esh. He cursed the cliffs named for him, that ghosts would ever inhabit their crevices and niches.

Silver Decider. A silver arrow balanced within a rune-inscribed ring of iron. This wheel of fortune chooses the fate of a convicted murderer: north to the Ghost Cliffs of Shildakor, or south to the Square of the Sundering.

Slug-Gods. Giant omnivorous slugs who were worshipped as gods by the N’dola. Peculiarly, they absorbed the attitudes of their food (normally vegetation, but not always), gaining the ferocity of crocodiles or the timidity of rabbits, depending on which they had ingested most recently.

Soquallin, Tarth. Also called Tarth the Hermit. A wizard, formerly an apprentice to Imhlat the Great.

Square of the Sundering. Here, south of Bhur-Esh, felons are quartered between four great horses bred for the task.

Tarqu, Nathor. A warlock of ancient Chlangi.

Terrathagon. King of Chlangi, ere the Lamia Orbiquita appeared. Afterward he fled, together with all his retinue and his subjects.

Thad, Kank. A Northman who was guilty of murder most foul in Bhur-Esh.

Thamiel. Chief Seeker of Truth (i.e. judge) in the High Court of Bhur-Esh.

Tharquest. A wanderer from Klühn, renowned for his various amorous adventures. Known variously as Tharquest the Wanderer and Tharquest the Rake.

Theen. A member of King Vilthod’s Guard, he was struck an especially low blow by Kank Thad.

Thom, Mellatiquel. A cousin-wizard of Mylakhrion, he fled to Yaht-Haal when certain magicks turned against him.

Titi. A whore. Companion and partner of Dilquay Noth, old friend of Tharquest; aka Titi the Ample and Titi of a Thousand Delights.

Ull, Phaithor. A sorcerer of Humquass who tried an ill-conceived thaumaturgical experiment and was transformed into green dust.

Um, Phata. Prospecting partner of Eythor Dreen. He was the strong silent type, but a good friend.

Vehm, Hath. A priest who guards the gate to the House of Cthulhu, that no one speak the runes that will set Cthulhu free. Brother of Voth Vehm.

Vehm, Voth. A priest of the gods in the temples of the Silver City. Brother of Hath Vehm, who guards the House of Cthulhu.

Vilthod. A king of Bhur-Esh. It is death to walk on the king’s grass.

Wine of the Wizard. Mylakhrion’s Powder, brewed up in a measure of wine, such as he was wont to imbibe.

Xthyll, Pool of. A legendary pool of depths unplumbed.

Ye-namat. A wizard, formerly an apprentice to Imhlat the Great.

Yhemney. Also known as Yhemni.

Yoppaloth. Black Yoppaloth of Yhemnis was a sorcerer of no mean prowess, opposed to Mylakhrion. Being a Yhemni, he was, of course, black of skin, but was also known to be a black wizard as contrasted, say, with Teh Atht, a white wizard. Long afterward there was another Yoppaloth in Yhemnis. Rumor had it that there had been nine of them. Or was it always just the original Yoppaloth who had discovered a form of immortality (the elusive goal of all the wizards of Theem’hdra)?

Zar-Thule the Conqueror. Also known as Reaver of Reavers, Seeker of Treasures, Sacker of Cities. In short, a pirate.

Zar-weed. Smoking it can induce dreams that are more than dreams.

Zothada. Daughter of the High Priest of the Temple of Ghatanothoa in Eyphra; one of Tharquest the Rake’s mistresses.

The Compleat Khash, Volume I: Never a Backward Glance

Adz, Gulla. Daughter of Stumpy Adz. “Built like a fortress,” according to Tarra Khash.

Adz, Stumpy. An old one-eyed thief (one-handed, too), he lived in Chlangi and befriended Tarra Khash.

Annoxin, Nud. Thinhla’s fattest, richest, and most loathsome jewel merchant.

Arn, Amyr. A male of the Suhm-yi, mated to Lula Am. He is the last male Suhm-yi.

Arn, Lula. A girl of the Suhm-yi, believed to be the last female of her race. Mated to Amyr Arn.

Athar, Kon. A long-maned, boastful brute of a Northman, leader of a gang of cutthroats.

Chud, Gumbat. A bully-boy out of Chlangi, he thought he had killed Tarra Khash.

Cynonycteris. A type of bat that often infests mummy chambers and burial pits.

Dramah. When fabled Mylakhrion was yet a youthful apprentice, there dwelt in the Nameless Desert a magician of no mean prowess.

Dyzm, Hadj. Survivor of a caravan from Eyphra, which was ambushed in the foothills of the Mountains of Lohmi.

Eys, Ulli. Suhm-yi maid, who truly was the last female of her race. She was held captive for many years by Gorgos, else she would have died with most of the Suhm-yi.

Gorgos. Chief priest of the Secret Gods Sect. He was apparently a sorcerer from Shadarabar who sought immortality.

Gylrath the Great. An ancient king, known mostly for his “great” gluttony and his gout. There is only desert now, where his city and the surrounding forest once lay.

Han, Arenith. Seer and runecaster to Fregg.

Izz, Ahorra. The Scarlet God of Scorpions. His toppled temple lies in the coastal forests east of Thinhla; the caverns beneath are repositories of forbidden treasure and ghastly horror.

Na-dom. A gaunt crag which rears up from the crater sea, considered by the Suhm-yi as the Holiest of Holies. Also the treasure house of the Suhm-yi.

Phant, Ilke. He and Bogga Tull were prospecting partners with Tarra Khash, collecting gold nuggets along the River Thand.

Secret Gods. Who were they? Why, that is a secret. Not benevolent deities, you may be sure of that. And definitely not the unknown Ice-gods of Khrissa.

Secret Gods Sect. The mysterious sect who constructed the Temple of the Secret Gods. Their priests wore yellow robes, and they seemed to know in some weird manner everything that happened in the city.

Square of Justice. Here, in Klühn, convicted felons are locked in cages, suspended from a parapet for ten days, then dropped to their deaths.

Swords of Power. Three rune-swords that were formerly the property of the greatest of all Suhm-yi sorcerers. Later they fell into the hands of Gorgos.

Temple of the Secret Gods. Constructed over a five-year period in the city of Klühn, while its resident wizard (Teh Atht) was away on an expedition. Built by the mysterious Sect of the Secret Gods.

Thad, Bejam. Kon Athar’s right-hand man.

Thromb. Demons of the deep dark spaces between the stars, as told of in Suhm-yi legend. They are a group of Great Old Ones whom the Elder Gods penned in cauldrons of gravity in the hearts of collapsed stars.

Tull, Bogga. He and Ilke Phant were prospecting partners with Tarra Khash, collecting gold nuggets along the River Thand.

Unst, Fregg. Fregg Unst I: robber king of Chlangi; most often simply known as Fregg.

The Compleat Khash, Volume II: Sorcery in Shad

Ankh, Gys. A Hrossak outcast. One of Yoppaloth’s caravan of slavers. Quick with his whip, he offended the wrong man.

Arena of Death. A sunken arena in Yhemnis, guarded by giant statues of all the dark gods and beings of a hundred alien pantheons. Not a good place to be under any circumstances but especially bad when doom was upon Theem’hdra.

Climatic Capsule. A rune, or spell, of protection. Scientists might call it a forcefield. It creates a kind of ecosphere about the mage, keeping him comfortable.

Curious Concretion. A curse or spell to turn anything to stone.

Gemal, Cush. Caravan master of Yoppaloth’s slave caravan. A Yhemni, but a strange one. Tarra Khash would wonder: Could he be someone, or something, other than he seems . . .?

Ghenz, Narqui. A renegade Hrossak; one of the lizard-riders in Yoppaloth’s caravan.

Great Kraken. A phrase used to denote Great Cthulhu Himself.

Haven’s Hollow. A picturesque, peaceful village in the foothills of the Eastern Range. Stumpy Adz and his daughter lived there for a time, after leaving doomed Chlangi.

Instant Inversion. A minor spell that upends all in its realm of action.

Keep-Ye-Out. A spell of protection against inimical visitors. It would have worked well even against a lamia, but hardly against a whole flock of lamias.

Kraken. A legendary sea monster of northern seas. (Also, see Great Kraken.)

Lizards. Generally (not always) refers to the giant riding animals used by Hrossaks. Only the Hrossaks knew how to control these formidable saurians.

Moormish of the Wastes. A hermit wizard contemporary with Teh Atht. Somewhat similar to Tarth Soquallin, but a notorious grouch.

Nindiss, Jezza. Sister of Loomar Nindiss. A virgin destined for Yoppaloth’s harem or worse. (Definitely worse!)

Nindiss, Loomar. Brother of Jezza Nindiss, he is young but big and strong. A slave taken by Yoppaloth’s caravan. Befriended by Tarra Khash.

One who flitted. One of Teh Atht’s three familiars.

One who flowed. One of Teh Atht’s three familiars. Best described as a sentient oil.

One who hopped. One of Teh Atht’s three familiars, also known as Hopper.

Robos. Boyfriend of Gulla Adz.

Rune of Liquescence. A spell to turn solids into liquids . . . useful against onyx automatons.

Rune of Revitalization. Eldritch spell supposed to renew youth if utilized properly. The famous wizard, Azatta Leet, died after declaiming this spell without utter understanding.

Self-Contained Coolness. A type of Climatic Capsule useful in warm weather (or in lava pits, for that matter).

Shoggoths. One of the most frightening forms of life, which can exist as extended beings or as individual motes. Created and used as slaves by the star-headed Old Ones who flew through space on leathery wings and settled on the nascent Earth even before the Cthulhu spawn, Shoggoths are only whispered of in the Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred.

Star of Power. A five-pointed star, stamped into desert sands for protection; much like a Climatic Capsule, perhaps, or a Keep-Ye-Out, but more primitive in its casting.

Sustained Scrying. A rune or spell to operate a shewstone for a long time period.

Tek, Mangr. One of the Northmen in Yoppaloth’s slave caravan, he lost his shirt gambling with his countrymen, but was a lot luckier in the Arena of Death.

Thad, Gorlis. Leader of a trio of Northmen in Yoppaloth’s slave caravan. The most degenerate, murderous Northman of all the large Thad family, or so thought Tarra Khash, who had never met Kank Thad.

Undiluted Deafness. A spell to impede hearing.

Warm Web. A type of Climatic Capsule useful in cold weather.

Yoppaloth the ninth. The first Yoppaloth was a contemporary of Mylakhrion. This last Yoppaloth, whom Tarra Khash encountered, was supposedly the ninth mage of that line. Or . . . was he actually the original one, still living a thousand years later? The truth is: Neither.