Osherl showed himself as a wefkin four feet high with blue skin and green hair. He spoke in a voice meticulously polite. “My best regards, Rhialto! As I look about, I discover a fine warm day of the sixteenth aeon! The air tingles at one’s skin with characteristic zest. You are chewing grass like an idle farm-boy; I am happy to perceive your enjoyment of time and place.”
Rhialto ignored the pleasantries. “I still lack the Perciplex, and for this failure, you and Sarsem share the blame.”
The wefkin, laughing soundlessly, combed its green silk hair between blue fingers. “My dear fellow! This style of expression becomes you not at all!”
“No matter,” said Rhialto. “Go now to yonder city, and bring me back the Perciplex.”
The wefkin uttered a gay laugh. “Dear Rhialto, your witticisms are superb! The concept of poor Osherl trapped, dragged, pounded, stamped upon, dissected and maltreated by twenty vicious gods is a masterpiece of absurd imagery!”
“I intended no joke,” said Rhialto. “Yonder lies the Perciplex; the Perciplex I must have.”
Osherl himself plucked a blade of grass and waved it in the air to emphasize his remarks. “Perhaps you should recast your goals. In many ways the sixteenth aeon is more kindly than the twenty-first. You chew grass like one born to it. This time is yours, Rhialto! So it has been ordained by stronger voices than either yours or mine!”
“My voice is adequately strong,” said Rhialto. “Also I am friend to the chug and I distribute indenture points with lavish prodigality.”
“Such humor is mordant,” growled Osherl.
“You refuse to enter Luid Shug for the Perciplex?”
“Impossible while the gods stand guard.”
“Then you must take us forward exactly a hundred centuries, so that when Luid Shug awakens to the Age of Gold, we will be on hand to claim our property.”
Osherl wished to discuss the onerous quality of his indenture, but Rhialto would not listen. “All in good time, when we are once more in Boumergarth, Perciplex in hand!”
“The Perciplex? Is that all you want?” asked Osherl with patently false heartiness. “Why did you not say so in the first place? Are you prepared?”
“I am indeed. Work with accuracy.”
13
The hillock and the solitary tree were gone. Rhialto stood on the slope of a stony valley, with a river wandering sluggishly below.
The time seemed to be morning, although a heavy overcast concealed the sky. The air felt raw and damp against his skin; to the east dark wisps of rain drifted down into a black forest.
Rhialto looked about the landscape, but found no evidences of human habitancy: neither fence, farm-house, road, track or path. Rhialto seemed to be alone. Where was Osherl? Rhialto looked here and there in annoyance, then called out: “Osherl! Make yourself known!”
Osherl stepped forward, still the blue-skinned wefkin. “I am here.”
Rhialto indicated the dour landscape. “This does not seem the Age of Gold. Have we come exactly one hundred centuries? Where is Luid Shug?”
Osherl pointed to the north. “Luid Shug is yonder, at the edge of the forest.”
Rhialto brought out the pleurmalion, but the dark blue sky-spot could not be seen for the overcast. “Let us make a closer approach.”
The two coursed north to the site of the sacred city, to discover only a tumble of ruins. Rhialto spoke in perplexity: “This is a most dreary prospect! Where have the gods gone?”
“I will go to Gray Dene and there make inquiry,” said Osherl. “Wait here; in due course I will return with all information.”
“Stop! Hold up!” cried Rhialto. “My question was casual. First find the Perciplex; then you can seek after the gods as long as you like.”
Osherl grumbled under his breath: “You have dawdled away a hundred centuries, yet if I spent a single year in Gray Dene I would still hear threats and abuse on my return. It dulls the edge of one’s initiative.”
“Enough!” said Rhialto. “I am interested only in the Perciplex.”
The two approached the ruins. Wind and weather had worked at the old crater walls so that only traces remained. The temples were rubble; the twenty gods, carved from marble, had likewise eroded to a few toppled fragments, with all their force seeped into the mire.
Rhialto and Osherl walked slowly around the edge of the old city, testing the pleurmalion from time to time, without result.
To the north the forest grew close to the old parapets, and at this point they caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind. Looking here and there, they discovered a crude village of twenty huts just inside the edge of the forest.
“We will make inquiries,” said Rhialto. “I suggest that you change your appearance; otherwise they will think us a queer pair indeed.”
“You should also make alterations. Your hat, for instance, is the shape of an inverted soup-pot, and purple to boot. I doubt if this is the current fashion.”
“There is something in what you say,” admitted Rhialto.
Using the semblance of Lavrentine Redoubtables in glistening armor, barbed and spiked, and with helmets crested with tongues of blue fire, Rhialto and Osherl approached the village, which lacked all charm and smelled poorly.
Rhialto reinforced himself with his glossolary and called out: “Villagers, attention! Two Lavrentine grandees stand nearby; come perform the proper ceremonies of welcome.”
One by one the villagers appeared from their huts, yawning and scratching: folk of a squat long-armed race with liver-colored skins and long lank hair. Their garments were fashioned from bird-skins and the village showed few civilized amenities; still they seemed sleekly well-fed. At the sight of Rhialto and Osherl, certain of the men called out in pleasure, and taking up long-handled nets advanced upon the two with sinister purpose.
Rhialto called out: “Stand back! We are magicians! Your first sneer of menace will bring down a spell of great distress; be warned!”
The men refused to heed and raised high their nets. Rhialto made a sign to Osherl. The nets folded over backwards to enclose and clench into tight balls those who had thought to use them. Osherl jerked his thumb to whisk these balls away, into the northern sky, through the overcast and out of sight.
Rhialto looked around the group and spoke to a flat-faced woman: “Who is the chieftain of this repulsive group?”
