Chapter 9
The pinions snapped in the air, but the gates were closed. The sun's disc had dipped below the land. The Dervish could not see the watchmen of the City to ask of, so he turned. Straw spread between the three tents.
The wall-eyed man wrapped his fingers upon themselves. When they came apart, they sweated the hem of the tennure the left middle finger and thumb rubbed.
'Sir … sir … come with me, noble sir.'
The Dervish tried to ignore him.
'Sir … it would be me you want.'
He met the watery eyes. 'Sir, I am just looking, if you would be so kin-'
'You need nothing from them, sir! You are a healthy man – healthy in body and soul! I can tell. You will want what I have to offer – all do! There is no shame in it, Sir. All but the Castle are poor here, Sir, more or less. Let me help you, Sir.' His voice dropped. 'If you wish, join me after nightfall, Sir. No one need know where it came from, Sir.'
The fingers still rolled the red fabric. The Dervish reached down his hand to the yellow-clad shoulder, 'Tell me who's tent's these are.'
'He is a transmutist – a meddler in the masses corporal by the powers incorporal. His jaundiced dwelling lies between a doktor and another cast of employer of magicks – I mean his tent, not his skin, Master.'
'You mean he is an alchemist – wait! Are you still here?'
'As the Moon orbits the globe – as serf orbits the lord – as the apostate orbits the temple – wrought to serve was I and am I, my pleasure irrespective. End this simulation now, Master, and to baseless baseness shall your servant gladly return.' Feline fangs smiled 'Else to the corners of the Land and beyond the circumscribing peaks ne'er crossed I shall follow my Master, Master.'
'Ignore the creature,' The Alchemist blinked from a hungry stare 'is what he says true?'
'Yes … yes – and so you can see now, you want nothing from them, Sir. Come with me, Sir. You will have junk, trinkets – things unneeded from the road. Has it been wearying, Sir? Bring the rubbish to me, Sir,' he dropped to a whisper again 'let me by my arts bring you that universal means – the metal docile and pliant.'
And at the same time, 'I cannot lie to my Master, Master.' The overlarge purple head nodded, and polished an incisor with a thin tongue.
The Dervish salvaged a smile, and took the fingers from his robe. 'Forgive me.' He turned – the leather canvas was brightly mottled and descended from yellow through orange through red.
'Oh, Sir! You don't want to trifle with her, Sir! Come to me – I might perform my arts, and you will reap of them, Sir – I promise you, Sir! She is a roll of-'
And at the same time, 'Ask of me which is the best choice, Master! Is it this inflationist? Will you waste time with the bonesaw? An Enchanter both promises much, and pro-'
'Be quiet, both of you!' He turned back, stepped forward while lifted up the entrance. He started as his shin connected with the smooth leg through his robe, dark eyes met his above a nose that touched his own, and his chest was impeded.
The first clear memory of the Toad was the long, dry grass, dead and flattened. In the open, fearful immediately, he launched himself toward the tall green stalks nearby. Once there, he waited, then hungering, he moved to search.
The Toad's hours were enjoyable, and uneventful. Flies flew near and he pinioned them and pulled them into his mouth, mashing them between his lips. He moved through a world of great, soaring green and brown shifting underfoot.
Every so often, a great shape loomed behind, or else a deep padding sound. He had the impression of a mocking presence. He would flee desperately till exhausted. The thing never caught him, but always it came back eventually.
As night fell he shuffled himself under a dockleaf and slept.
The lake of water was a vast landscape. In a corner sprouted columns of slender straw. Each of them ended with a cylinder as like soil, plump, furred and giant, that seemed to hover in the breezes. Islands of flat green, smooth to the seeming, moved about the water. Dwarf toads – smooth as the islands – resumed singing once they had fled from him, in wonderful voices he could not understand.
He was thirsty. He launched himself down to the waters edge, and drank. He then rested beneath the cover of shade.
He started out straight away as he woke. He moved faster, and he tired less – he was certain of it. He gobbled flies out the air, and clasping the tail of an earthworm, heaved it from its cave.
The next day, he found himself back in the area of felled grasses. The three skyscraping mountains of green, yellow, and the sunrise cast gigantic shadows. He moved towards the technicoloured tower.
The ground shook. A giant to rival the colossal hills approached, dwarfing the pursuer which still sometimes dogged him. The grasses were parted by two great grey lengths of weave, at the foot of each of which was a mobile mound of hide. The Toad could just about look up to see the trunks disappear into a great flexible cave, walls thin enough allow a filter of sunlight to enter.
The Toad watched the pillars move, racing with single strides like a storm cloud might across the sky. He looked to their destination. A fortification, shapeless, made of cloth – but dwarfed in height by the one approaching. On it's top lay a bank of metal beautifully smoothed, and curved like the iris of a cat – by the rain, no doubt – and from this projected an unmoving black grub – skin like leather, with a golden metal head lacking any feature. But what was strangest was the feelings all this summoned in the Toad.
The creature – it was a creature – which approached must be stopped. The fortress the Toad had only now attended to was his. This was an interloper. A thief! He bounded forward.
The Toad slept in the caverns of his fortress that night. The next day, he travelled again to the waters. Upon drinking and resting, he charged upon a water rat. Once he had taken his fill, he left it to his melodious kin-folk, in thanks for their sweet, indecipherable voices. It took him little time to return to his castle. Looking out, he thought in the gloom he finally caught sight of the stalking beast – a flash of purple and a great, yellow eye, its pupil a slash – but he felt little fear, and it was tiredness which lead him to derelict his watching of the stars, and to curl up within.
The Dervish awoke. Above him, blocking part of the sky, was the varicoloured tent.
He sat up and rubbed his temple. His pack was beside him, with his sword laid lazily upon it. His helmet was beside.
'You would have burst the bag had I not removed you, Master, but I can claim credit for little else – Master.'
