World of Mazes

CHAPTER SEVEN

" The grey- clads do not follow us. How odd," said Krek. The spider bounced up and down, craning his almost nonexistent neck back in the direction they' d, come. " It has been a goodly four days since I so soundly ran them off. They normally show more persistence. My scare job must have been better than I thought."

With typical arachnid perversity, Krek had neglected to mention Lan' s role in routing the soldiers. But the man didn' t care. Not being disturbed by Claybore' s men, for whatever reason, suited him fine. If Krek wanted to take all the credit for that, let him. And Lan didn' t know for sure but that the spider was right. The soldiers had bolted when they' d seen how ferocious an opponent Krek could be.

He touched the cylinder he' d recovered from the slain captain. It aimed easily, just like pointing a wand. The tiny button on the side triggered the death beam. Lan had tried it out on a lightning- blasted tree. A new bolt of fire had reduced the charred tree to smouldering embers. Obviously a more potent weapon than his sword- and fasteracting than his relatively weak fire spells. Lan still felt uneasy with the weapon.

A sword rested solidly in the hand. It swung easily and cut true. And spells conjured up provided a sense of control he didn' t get from the death tube.

" Any indication of how much farther it is to Dicca?" he asked the spider.

Krek stopped, dug talons into the dry earth, and stood shivering. Lan waited while his friend " listened" by sensing faint vibrations in the ground. Krek finally straightened and shook his head.

" Nothing. But then, we see very little ground traffic. Aerial forms of travel abound." Even as he spoke, a V- shaped flight of howlers rocketed across the sky. Crossing from horizon to horizon took only seconds.

" Most of those things," Lan said with distaste, indicating the howlers, " are too small for more than two people. They must have larger versions or the roads would be packed with travellers. The more advanced a world, the more it requires communication of both goods and ideas."

" How profound," said Krek. Lan Martak glanced sharply at him, wondering if the spider intended that as sarcasm. He couldn' t tell. " Inyx travelling in one of the fluttercraft puts her days ahead of us."

" We' re making good time. Did you detect any others along this road?"

" Something massive rumbles in this direction."

" Might be a troop carrier. Let' s get off the road and wait for a while."

" Nonsense, friend Lan Martak," Krek said tartly. " We need to press on. No handful of soldiers can drive us off this fine road."

" You want to face a hundred soldiers capable of setting your legs on fire and never getting within a hundred feet of you?" He tapped the death tube hanging at his belt.

" Well," vacillated the spider, " perhaps it is time to enjoy an afternoon' s relaxation."

" It' s only about ten in the morning," pointed out Lan, smiling.

" So we are doing it early." The spider hopped to the side of the road and soon found an area where he crouched down and blended into the landscape. From twenty feet away he looked like nothing more than a brown rock with a few wiry roots prying their way up and under. Lan took a post closer to the road. Again he admired Krek' s talents for sensing vibration. Living on a web and depending on the proper interpretation of the slightest of twitches had its advantages. A heavy truck rolled along the road.

" No soldiers," he said to Krek. " Looks like produce for the city markets."

The truck rumbled on by. Lan exchanged a quick glance with Krek, then ran after the vehicle. An agile leap brought him into the back to lie amid stacks of fragrant vegetables. He wiped off a long, green stalk of crisp celery and began to eat. The truck lurched sideways, then regained its course. Lan glanced up. The heavy canvas stretched over metal support rods sagged ominously. He smiled to himself. Krek had decided to enjoy the air outside and crouched on the roof.

In a short while, the gentle rolling motion of the truck put Lan to sleep.

" You, what are you doing back there?" demanded the driver. Lan opened one bleary eye and stared at the man. Behind him stretched loading bays, many filled with trucks similar to this one.

" Just catching up on my sleep. Many thanks for the use of your celery." Lan vaulted out and glanced up. Krek perched on the edge of the roof, peering at him.

The driver followed Lan' s gaze, saw Krek, then turned back to the human.

" Get out of here."

" My friend, too?" Lan asked, indicating Krek.

" Your friend, too."

This took Lan by surprise. Most people reacted strongly to the sight of an eight- foot- tall spider, especially one preparing to spring on their heads. The driver didn' t even cringe.

Krek said amiably, " Thank you for the ride, sir. It was most pleasant."

The driver scowled and pushed Lan aside to begin unloading. Lan nodded to Krek to leave.

Outside the shipping area, Lan said, " Odd he didn' t comment on you."

" Yes, it is odd," agreed Krek. " One does not often see a Webmaster this far from the mountains."

Lan shook his head and started walking. After a half- hour he assured himself this was Dicca. It had taken only ten seconds to convince him that an election was imminent. Posters flared, shimmered, and changed form before his eyes, giving animated testimonials for the candidates. He even stopped to listen to one candidate haranguing a small crowd outside his headquarters.

" The current Lord of the Twistings is cheating you, yes, cheating you!" the man screamed. " He fails to give you the utter finest. Can he do this?" A small circus of bizarre creatures appeared out of thin air and began to perform.

" Can' t see in the back!" called out one of the spectators on the fringe of the crowd.

" You can' t see what the Lord gives you, either. But remember this well, Jonrod the Flash will give it to you!"

The tiny animals grew in size, expanding, exploding until the smallest was as large as Krek. The crowd stood and watched the illusory antics while Lan watched the crowd. The man in the rear who had complained about not seeing edged around and talked quietly with Jonrod. Money changed hands. Lan shook his head. The man had been a shill, asking the proper questions on cue. Jonrod hurried back to the front of the crowd just as his images faded.

" That isn' t all I can give you. I promise first- rate images every single day. What other candidate goes that far? None, none but Jonrod the Flash."

" Let' s go," Lan said to Krek. " Politics bores me. It' s always the same, no matter the world. Promise the sky, deliver dirt."

" I find the illusions amusing," said the spider. " Somewhat insubstantial, but amusing."

" You' re seeing them differently than I am. I' d swear they were real if I didn' t know better. Maybe the truck driver thought you were an illusion and that' s why he didn' t react."

" An illusion? I, Krek of the Crags? Absurd."

They walked along the street, hardly aware of the difference between reality and image. Lan marvelled that Dicca could survive in this fashion. Jonrod the Flash promised free illusions- in return for voting for him. Others offered fine illusions for sale. One of these stores Lan entered.

" Good sir, how may I aid you?" asked the oily clerk from behind a large desk.

" You sell illusions. I' d like to see what you have in stock."

" In stock?" the clerk parroted, as if Lan had committed a major faux pas. " Illusorium Unlimited tailors illusions. We cater exclusively to the: best of clientele."

" I understand. I' m able to conjure a bit myself." Lan stepped back and chanted his minor fire spell. Fat blue sparks leaped from finger to finger, then jetted upward in pyrotechnic magnificence. He' d known this spell for many years, having been taught it when he was barely in his teens.

" I see," said the clerk dryly, obviously unimpressed. " That one, the one behind you, that' s a more difficult illusion."

Lan turned to see Krek hunkered down behind him. He smiled and said, " That? That' s nothing."

" Well, perhaps we can do business. I' m not adverse to trading illusions. I have a market for one such as that. Knokno over in the park is always looking for: oddities."

" Oddities?" bellowed Krek. " Who are you calling an oddity?"

Lan motioned the arachnid back.

" Nicely done," said the clerk. " Would you be interested in trading for, say, a forty- foot alligator? No? Here' s one that will make you the life of any party."

Lan involuntarily stepped back. A chasm opened in front of him, a large panther pacing at the bottom of the pit.

" Yes, that' d be a million laughs at one of my parties," Lan said. " Really, I' m more interested in one of those." He pointed to a grey- clad soldier marching along the street.

" That' s no illusion," said the clerk, his mood shifting. " I wish it were."

" Oh?" Lan felt he skirted the verge of information.

" The Lord of the Twistings says it amuses him allowing them to keep the peace. A spitting nuisance, I say." The man pressed one soft white hand to his lips. " I' m sorry. I shouldn' t have used such profanity."

" Which of the candidates for Lord of the Twistings opposes the soldiers?"

" None openly. I understand Jonrod is unwilling to allow them to continue on if he is elected, but then Jonrod is adversely inclined toward anyone supporting the law, if you catch the meaning."

" He and the law are on uneasy terms."

" Exactly." Shifting back into his sales pitch, the clerk asked, " Which do you like, the panther pit or the alligator? I' ll trade either for the spider."

" Do you rent?" Lan asked facetiously. The clerk stiffened.

" If you' re looking for Fine Rooms, I suggest down south on Lossal, past the markets."

" Fine Rooms?"

" Brothels, low- born."

The clerk' s tone left no room for misinterpreting the fact that he desired Lan and his " illusion" out of the store. Lan quickly left, Krek trailing along behind.

" Oddity, indeed," sniffed Krek. " What an odious little man that was."

" It sounds as if Diccans mix magic with their sex," observed Lan. " That was what I took him to mean about ' Fine Rooms.' "

" Imagine comparing me to something like that." The spider sniffed and stalked off, leaving Lan to stare in amazement at a gelatinous cube wobbling down the center of the street. Krek had something there. Being compared with such an amorphous blob would damage one' s ego. He hurried to follow the spider.

" This is the damnedest place I' ve ever seen. I can hardly keep illusion and reality separate."

" It is not that difficult, friend Lan Martak," said the spider. " The illusions waver slightly and always appear slightly translucent. It is quite simple."

" To your eyes, not to mine." He' d found Lossal Boulevard, more out of curiosity than anything else, and seen the signs for Fine Rooms. While the proprietors of most shops selling hard commodities refused to talk openly about the Fine Rooms, Lan learned that all of Lossal was abuzz with a scheme one of them ran.

" A diorama," said one man in low, conspiratorial tones. " Luister len- Larrotti exchanges sex with the woman- or man- of your choice in whatever setting you desire. A most difficult illusion. And he charges for it."

" Where is this len- Larrotti?" Lan asked.

" Oh, good sir, you should avoid a place like that. Luister lenLarrotti will rob you, if he can."

" I' d like to see what' s setting up all the furor." Lan honestly did wish to see the window described to him with the wanton in the window performing for those in the streets, but more intimately giving the paying customer a hint of paradise. Anything as talked about in a city bored with common images had to be special.

" He' s down the street, south of Mittervault Avenue," the man finally said. " But don' t tell anyone I even know where his spittin' Fine Rooms are."

" Fine Rooms are something magical, aren' t they?"

" You pay extra. Len- Larrotti must be doing very well. He paid off his loan to Odissan."

" A loan arranger?"

" A thief," the man declared bitterly. Lan didn' t have to ask who else owed this Odissan money.

" Thanks for the information." Lan stepped out of the shop, then froze. A half- dozen soldiers trooped down the street. Their captain' s quick eyes darted everywhere, studying every pedestrian. Lan was positive he and Krek couldn' t elude the woman, even for an instant. He turned north and walked along just fast enough to stay in front of the soldiers.

" They will spot me soon," said Krek. " I cannot mingle as well as you do in human crowds."

" You can' t mingle at all, dammit," snapped Lan. " Look for somewhere to hide." He didn' t see any place. He felt hot eyes boring into his back. The woman must have seen him. She couldn' t have missed him, not with Krek stalking along beside.

There wasn' t anywhere to go.

" Good ladies and gentle sirs," came a familiar voice, " I am the best qualified because I am honest. Honest, I say, unlike our current Lord. Jonrod the Flash shares his illusions with those who vote for him. Have any of you seen anything this spectacular? It' s all yours today, tomorrow, every day until the election- and for a complete term if you elect me Lord of the Twistings."

Two story- tall apparitions bellowed and stalked one another in the street. Lan grabbed one of Krek' s legs and pulled him forward. They were caught up at the fringes of the crowd watching Jonrod' s illusions battle each other to bloody pulps. As the behemoths sagged, Jonrod refreshed them with new and even more startling creatures. Krek fit right in, hardly noticeable among the truly outrageous creations Jonrod shared with his electorate.

Lan saw the grey- clads advancing, more to watch than act. He moved away from their captain and stood beside Jonrod, leading the cheers and acting as shill for the man. Only by being obvious could he hope to avoid capture. He had to fit in and making a fool of himself was the only way to do it.

Jonrod turned to him and asked in a low voice, " Is that your illusion? The big, furry spider? It' s good."

" Be glad to share it."

" Really? You support me so strongly for Lord?"

" I oppose them." Lan lifted his chin and indicated the tiny knot of soldiers.

" I see," said Jonrod, stroking the stubble on his chin. " We have much in common. Are you fleeing them?"

" Yes." Lan saw no reason to lie. Jonrod had committed himself as opposing Claybore' s troops. Still, a shifty expression crossed the candidate' s face only to be masked by his painted- on public smile. He spun and turned back to his crowd.

" A vote for Jonrod is a vote for illusion! Everyone deserves illusions. Why should only the rich be allowed into the park? I' ll give every common voter- every one who votes for me- even better thrills than are to be found inside Knokno' s precious park." That sparked audience delight.

He continued making exuberant promises until his battling illusions faded away. But by this time, the soldiers had also gone. Lan Martak breathed a sigh of relief.

Jonrod finally turned to him and said, " Let' s go to my campaign headquarters and discuss this further. I do like your skillful manipulatings of this." He reached out and stroked along Krek' s leg. The spider flinched away, mandibles clacking in ominous warning. " Very nicely done," congratulated Jonrod. " Sound, texture, sight. Hard to do all at once. I ought to know. I' ve made a lifetime' s work out of illusioneering."

Lan walked along briskly, watching for more soldiers. They arrived safely at Jonrod' s headquarters. His workers- if there even were any, and Lan failed to detect any indication there were- had gone for the night, leaving the rooms bare and silent.

" Sit, enjoy some food." The paltry rations Jonrod set out convinced Lan that this candidate had little backing in his attempts to unseat the current Lord of the Twistings.

Still, Jonrod provided some small start. He opposed Claybore' s grey- clad soldiers.

" Why do you want the job as Lord?" he asked Jonrod.

" Why? The man is evil, demented, totally insane! Even worse, he' s still popular. That makes him a danger to all of Dicca."

" Where does he stand on the civil war being fought?"

" War, what war?" Jonrod appeared genuinely perplexed. But then, Lan decided Jonrod had never had a genuine reaction in his life. All for him was fraud.

" I saw howlers battling in the air outside Dicca. I talked a little to a downed pilot. Somewhere armed opposition to the greys continues. Is the Lord aiding the soldiers openly?"

" Yes."

Lan sighed. The answer had come too quickly for him to believe it. Jonrod agreed simply to win over Lan. He had dealt with illusion so long, he no longer separated it from reality.

" Why do they call you the Flash?" Lan asked, shifting directions in the conversation.

" My illusions: I am a master at flame and brilliant bursts. I' m saving that for election day. The sky will light with my face. It will be the masterstroke that wins me the election."

" What exactly do you win? Lord of the Twistings indicates something called the Twistings to be Lord over."

The man scowled, then said, " You are truly from far off. The Twistings is the current Lord' s most potent weapon."

Lan waited for Jonrod to explain further. When nothing more was forthcoming, he asked, " Where are the city' s sorcerers?"

" Where? Gone. All gone," said Jonrod. " And glad I am of that, too! They were competition. They refused to join in the elections; they actually insisted on selling their illusions."

" They only did illusions?"

" More. They created slimy, slithery things. Real things." For Jonrod, reality was anathema. " Screeching things that burned in the air and whistling tornados that sucked the air from a man' s lungs. Watery beasts and horrid little things that dug around in the earth. They were odious people. Never very friendly or outgoing. Glad to see them leave Dicca."

" They left about the time the soldiers came?"

" Yes, I suppose they did. At any rate, that' s when the Lord began cozying up to them. They obey him, though."

" As if he has something they want?" Lan began putting the pieces together. Claybore came to this world for a reason. With the Kinetic Sphere able to shift his skull and torso to any world he chose, something here had to draw him. If the Lord of the Twistings held some part of the sorcerer' s body, that would be impetus enough to forge a military presence on this planet.

" Perhaps," answered Jonrod, obviously not willing to commit himself.

" We' ll do what we can to get you elected. Are there others opposing the Lord?"

" ' We'?" demanded Jonrod. " You said ' we.' There are others?"

" The pair of us is more than ample for most emergencies," stated Krek.

" Your illusion sounds good, too," complimented Jonrod. " You have excellent control. No wonder you think in terms of ' we.' You must live night and day with this image to have it so much under control. It is most remarkable."

" It escapes my control at times," admitted Lan, a smile darting across his lips. He motioned for Krek to remain silent. The arachnid hadn' t liked being referred to as " it."

" Oh, the time!" Jonrod exclaimed. " I am late for an appointment with a very important and beautiful lady. She offers money for the campaign. Do you: two: wish to remain here while I solicit? It won' t take me long."

" I could use the rest," said Lan. " Go on. We' ll wait for you."

" Be back soon," promised Jonrod the Flash as he left.

" What a duplicitous little node of a human," observed Krek without rancor.

" Allying ourselves with him- for a while- gives us a base," explained Lan. " And I need some time to read through Abasi- Abi' s grimoire. There are some items in it I intend studying that seem appropriate for this city."

He began reading in the book of magical spells, silently chanting, trying to get a feel for what they did and how they operated. He had been lucky to shift the death beam away back in the forest. One small slip and he' d have ended up smoky ruin. There had to be better spells to forestall that particular weapon.

Less than a half- hour after Jonrod left on his money- gathering mission, Krek interrupted the studies. The spider nudged Lan' s shoulder with a curved talon.

" What is it?" he asked, annoyed at being disturbed. But he heard the scraping sounds. He jumped to his feet, instinctively whipping out his sword.

The door burst open. The captain of the grey- clad soldiers he' d seen earlier stood in the doorway, a death tube in her hand. The set of her body, the expression on her face, told Lan she' d kill him in a flash of fiery death if he moved a muscle. He dropped his useless sword.

" Good," she said. To a man behind her, she called, " Pay off Jonrod. We have them."

Lan felt rage mounting inside. He hoped that the coin they paid Jonrod the Flash was as illusory as that man' s integrity.