The Swarms: diverse breeds of monsters which were confined to
the south of Argan until the destruction of the flame trench
Drangsturm. The Swarms are controlled by an entity known as the
Skull of the Deep South. The unfortunate truth is that wizards
once awakened the enmity of the Skull when they made an ill-
advised and abortive attempt to enslave it; and, in the thousands
of years since then, the Skull has harbored a deep-seated hatred
of humankind.

                                                 * * *

        At this juncture, the lowlands of Argan's western coast had
fallen almost entirely to the occupation of the Swarms. Pockets of
exception included Androlmarphos, Hok and Estar.
        The seaport city of Androlmarphos, defended by tidal
marshlands and by a webwork of rivers, as yet preserved its
integrity, and had become home to many wizards. In the mountains
of Hok, the former rulers of the Harvest Plains had taken refuge,
together with some of their people. In the north of Argan, the
province of Estar was guarded by mountains, and a refugee army had
mounted a sturdy defense of those mountains, and had so far
defeated the Swarms. The defense of Estar automatically protected
the uplands of Penvash.
        But, by and large, the entire western seaboard of Argan was
dominated by the Swarms. On his previous flight to Dalar ken
Halvar, that flight which he had made with the Weaponmaster to
recover the yellow bottle from Dalar ken Halvar, Sken-Pitilkin had
dared a transit due south from Drum, and had overflown the
wreckage of Drangsturm, thus crossing Argan at its narrowest
point. But he thought the Neversh to be too numerous by now for
him to dare a repeat performance of this feat; and he was well
aware that the conscious malignity of the Skull of the Deep South
had to be added to the sheer numbers of the Neversh when one
sought to calculate their danger.
        In the center of the continent, the mountainous wastelands
were as yet free from the monsters. But that high and desolate
continental hinterland was the preserve of dragons. Here we are
not talking about sea dragons, those idle and talkative creatures
who inhabited Sken-Pitilkin's home island of Drum. No, we are
talking about land dragons, those crude and hideous beasts of
infinite malignity which have so haunted the imagination of
humanity.
        Since dragons, unlike the Swarms, lack a coordinating general
like the Skull, it happens that dragons have never yet proved a
serious danger to the survival of humanity. If a dragon should
happen to take up residence in your neighborhood, then its
exactions may prove expensive, but the bottom line is that the
average dragon does far less damage than the average war, plague,
famine or flood; and there is many a region which has stoically
gone about its business for generations, despite the informal
taxation of that business by one dragon or by a brood of the
things.
        Nevertheless, Sken-Pitilkin had absolutely no intention of
putting himself in the way of a dragon unless he had to; and, on
adding the dangers of dragons to the dangers of the Swarms, he
decided to shun the continent of Argan entirely, and to chart a
passage which would keep him well clear of its shores.
        Being thus wary of all winged monsters, Sken-Pitilkin first
flew himself and the Weaponmaster north to Lex Chalis, that rock-
tip of Tameran where caves still preserved the stone circles in
which Guest and Sken-Pitilkin had cooked their fish, their
shellfish, their kelp and their lobsters during a long winter's
season which they had spent hiding from Shabble.
        After resting for a day in that place of unpleasant memories,
they flew east toward the island of Ork, eventually arriving there
in good order. They were now on the fringes of the Great Ocean of
Moana. Imagine Moana to be a box, with Tameran at its top and
Argan on its western edge. The island of Ork then lies in the
north-west corner of the box.
        The eastern side of the box is the continent of Yestron, and
the southern side is formed by the continent of Parengarenga.
Guest Gulkan and Sken-Pitilkin therefore had to go far, far, far
to the south on their way to Dalar ken Halvar.
        They made the trip by island-hopping, landing and resting on
the islands of Ashmolea and Asral. Their next stop was the Ebrell
Islands - of which, the less said the better. This is no place for
a thesis detailing the twenty different degrees of stench which
can be generated by rotting whale blubber!
        From the Ebrells, Sken-Pitilkin flew to Parengarenga, a
target so large it was impossible to miss. But, having picked up
the coast, how then was the wizard to reach his way to Dalar ken
Halvar? That city is, after all, but a speck in the midst of an
enormous wasteland.
        Sken-Pitilkin, who still had occasional nightmares about the
crossing of Moana which had seen him miss the island of
Untunchilamon entirely, followed the stratagem which had seen him
get safely to Dalar ken Halvar on his most recent visit. He took
the trouble to scout up and down the coast of Parengarenga till he
located one of its few seaports.
        All of Parengarenga's seaports are linked by road directly
with Dalar ken Halvar, so, having found such a port, Sken-Pitilkin
was able to scout down the road for league after weary league,
until at last he saw the city of Dalar ken Halvar amidst the red
dust of the Plain of Jars.
        As one approaches Dalar ken Halvar from the air, the first
thing to be seen from a distance is Lake Shalasheen, which lies to
the north of the city's center. One might think that the Caps, the
city's minor mountains, would be the first thing to catch the eye.
But those lumps of rock, formidable as they are, tend to blend
into the landscape of dust, particularly when there is a wind to
stir that dust to a haze. It is Lake Shalasheen which landmarks
the city, for it catches the sun like a coin tossed from palankeen
to gutter, and it was that wink-blind of bright-blazing silver
which assured Sken-Pitilkin of his target.
        Since it was in Dalar ken Halvar that Sken-Pitilkin had first
trialed his stickbird, and since he had revisited the city since
the fall of Drangsturm, he knew the place from the air. After all
these years, he could still place a variety of places where he had
crash-landed while perfecting his airship. In particular, he had
no trouble at all in placing the spot where he had crash-landed in
a funeral pyre.
        Just as Sken-Pitilkin knew Dalar ken Halvar, so Dalar ken
Halvar knew Sken-Pitilkin. In particular, the City of Sun still
remembered the long and universally dangerous series of trials in
which the sagacious wizard of Skatzabratzumon had mastered the
business of controlled flight. The chickens he had killed! The
roofs he had torn off! The women he had caused to scream and
faint! He had crashed in the river, had crashed in the lake, had
crashed in the streets and in yards both public and private. Once,
he had even been forced to put down hastily in the very Grand
Arena itself.
        On this occasion, as on his last visit, Sken-Pitilkin
announced his return by circling over the city. At a leisurely
pace, he sent his stickbird whirling over the fishing shacks of
Childa Go, while Guest Gulkan leaned out and scrutinized the
fortifications of the Bralsh. He flew over Cap Ogo Botch, on which
stands the palace of Na Sashimoko. And, having circled and
spiraled, and having noticed a gratifying stir in the streets of
the city, Sken-Pitilkin landed his airship on the heights of Cap
Foz Para Lash.
        Then the wizard and the Weaponmaster waited.
        At last, after a very lengthy delay, a single purple-skinned
warrior came scrambling up to the heights. It was Asodo Hatch
himself - Hatch the warlord, the man who was subordinate only to
Plandruk Qinplaqus himself.
        And, after only the briefest of conversations, Guest and
Sken-Pitilkin knew that they had not misguessed their welcome.
        So it was that Guest Gulkan returned to the City of Sun in
the company of Hostaja Torsen Sken-Pitilkin. They were received
with dignity, and with speeches in Pang, in Frangoni, and in the
Motsu Kazuka of the Nu-chala-nuth.
        Then Guest and Sken-Pitilkin were long closeted with Asodo
Hatch and Plandruk Qinplaqus. Being uncertain of how much Asodo
Hatch knew of the Circle of the Partnership Banks, Sken-Pitilkin
placed the star-globe on the negotiating table, then treated that
purple-skinned Frangoni warrior to a full exposition of its place
in the scheme of things; then updated both Hatch and his wizardly
master on the current state of affairs in Argan, and outlined a
grand scheme for conquering the Circle of the Banks.
        Both Asodo Hatch and Plandruk Qinplaqus had grave
reservations about unleashing Nu-chala-nuth upon their own planet.
A militant religion like Nu-chala-nuth had endless potential to
generate grief, suffering and war.
        But what was the alternative?
        The Swarms were threatening the invasion of Tameran and the
Ravlish Lands, and, ultimately, there was no guarantee that any
part of the world would be permanently safe from these monsters. A
unifying force was needed to rally humanity against these
monsters, and the militant monotheistic religion of Nu-chala-nuth
fitted the bill. The unifying force of Nu-chala-nuth, combined
with the knowledge of Cap Foz Para Lash and the resources of the
Circle of the Partnership Banks would provide all that was needed
for the defeat of the Swarms.
        As debate proceeded, Asodo Hatch was won over long before his
master, Plandruk Qinplaqus. Ever since Guest Gulkan had brought
the x-x-zix to Dalar ken Halvar, Asodo Hatch had been
masterminding the research project which had been trying to make
that ancient weather machine functional. Since then, his life had
been one long exercise in frustration. Paraban Senk, the
unembodied entity which ruled the underworld of Cap Foz Para Lash,
had been able to give Hatch most of the technical advice he
needed, but this advice amounted to a heart-breaking recipe for
never-ending labor.
        For, to build a machine capable of mastering the x-x-zix, one
must first build a series of lesser machines; and to build the
lesser machines one must first fabricate a thousand different
kinds of materials, such as various kinds of metal alloys; and to
fabricate each of these thousand different materials one must
first build a set of fabricating machines. And -
        And the whole heart-breaking exercise had very much confirmed
to Asodo Hatch that which he had long suspected: namely, the fact
that the impoverished city of Dalar ken Halvar was too poor to
emulate the arts of the ancients. It could not support the number
of specialists which a machine civilization required; it could not
command an adequate supply of energy; and it was short even of the
basic metals such as iron, tin, copper, gold and silver.
        Since Plandruk Qinplaqus was not likely to yield in his
determination to have the x-x-zix made functional, Hatch was
doomed to waste out the rest of his life in futility unless he
could capture the resources needed to exploit his knowledge.
        "Stokos can give us iron, and coal, and steel," said Hatch,
as he began to appreciate the potential of this Circle. "On
Stokos, the mines have been dug already, the forges built, and
generations of craftsmen have refined the arts of working metal.
If we open this Circle, then the ruling city of Stokos becomes a
suburb of Dalar ken Halvar, which means that we have steelworks on
our doorstep."
        Thus did Asodo Hatch signify his conversion to Sken-
Pitilkin's plan; and, though the conversion of Plandruk Qinplaqus
was by no means as simple, eventually the Lord of the Silver
Pelican was brought to the same opinion.
        There then followed long days of preparation, for all were
acutely conscious of the fact that the Door in Voice opened to a
region long overrun by the Swarms, hence there was the possibility
that such monsters would muscle through to Dalar ken Halvar as
soon as the Door in the Bralsh was opened. The problem was solved
- at least as far as Dalar ken Halvar was concerned - by placing
huge blocks of stone on either side of the steel arch within the
Bralsh. These blocks constricted the approaches to the archway so
that, while a man could get to the arch, a monster in its hugeness
would not have been able to get out into Dalar ken Halvar.
        Nor were these brute physical preparations the end of the
matter, for the city of Dalar ken Halvar as a whole had to be
briefed as to what was afoot, and prepared for the opening of the
Circle. For there was no way that it could be held secret. Not
when it would be necessary to use hundreds of men to guard and
fortify the Door at Voice, and hold it against the Swarms.
        Then came the day.
        In the Bralsh, Plandruk Qinplaqus ceremonially placed the
star-globe in its niche in the base of the marble plinth which
supported the steel arch of the Door. Immediately, there came a
hum as of wasps or of bees. The seductive silver shimmer of the
screen of the Door came to life, filling the arch. And Guest
Gulkan - accompanied by Asodo Hatch, by Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin and
by a dozen spearheading heroes - was gone through that screen in
moments.
        A single footfall took Guest from the Bralsh in Dalar ken
Halvar to the Singing Dove Pensions Trust of Tang. He found
himself in a well-remembered conical chamber hung with silken
ropes and scented with incense. It was utterly empty.
        Onward!
        Back through the Door went Guest, his onslaught taking him to
the Taniwha Guarantee Corporation of Quilth. Here was a similar
conical chamber, but this one had been sealed with doors of steel.
It was lit - but dimly - by small barred windows high overhead.
        No time to linger!
        Guest went through the Door again, this time stepping to the
Orsay Bank of Stokos. He found the Orsay Bank's Door unattended
but for the fresh-made corpse of an elderly Banker who had dropped
stone dead at the shock of seeing the Door so unexpectedly
reactivated.
        Press on!
        Guest plunged through the Door again, this time stepping
through to the Morgrim Bank of Chi'ash-lan. He found the chamber
of Chi'ash-lan's Door to be in utter darkness but for the
unearthly green light emitted by the demon Ko. The glowing green
shone sick and wet on the skeletons which hung from the ceiling of
Chi'ash-lan's weirding room. By that same light, Guest saw that
the entrance to the room had been bricked up.
        The demon Ko said nothing, but Guest supposed the thing saw
him, and supposed too that it would immediately communicate its
knowledge to every other demon in the Circle of the Partnership
Banks.
        Time to go!
        Guest dared through the Door again, to Alozay. He arrived in
Alozay's weirding room in the highest level of the mainrock
Pinnacle. It was bright with sun, and it was empty.
        That high and airy chamber was not empty for long, for Asodo
Hatch and Hostaja Sken-Pitilkin came pushing through the Door in
Guest's wake, with armed men following. As Guest lingered - for he
had given himself the task of introducing Alozay to the new
realities of the renascent Circle - Hatch and Sken-Pitilkin pushed
onward. More and more men came pouring through the Door, stepping
into Alozay then stepping back through the silver screen so they
could push through to the ruins of the Monastic Treasury of Inner
Adeer, where a Door opened to the ruins of the city of Voice.
        They would hold Voice in strength, and fortify it against the
Swarms.
        Once this great press of men had hastened in and out of
Alozay, Guest Gulkan was left alone in the weirding room in the
mainrock Pinnacle. He had thought it best that he confront his
father alone, rather than with armed men at his back, for he
wanted the Witchlord Onosh as an ally rather than a slave. He
wanted no taint of coercion to contaminate their relationship. He
sought an alliance of equals: himself and his father, united
against the world.
        So Guest was alone when he ventured to the outer stairway
which led downward from the Sky Stratum of Jezel Obo to the
Archive Stratum of Trilip - bypassing the Hall of Time where the
demon Italis maintained its vigil. But he found that outer
stairway hanging in tatters, splinters of sky interpolated into
its shattered fabric.
        Then Guest ventured out onto the living rock of the mainrock
Pinnacle, and scanned the view to north and south. To south was
the city of Molothair, which was inhabited still, for smoke was
rising from its chimneys. To the north, the broad expanse of the
Swelaway Sea was dotted with fishing boats. So. The island of
Alozay, the ruling rock of the Safrak Islands, was still
inhabited. Was still at peace. That knowledge canceled one of
Guest's fears: for in recent days he had endured a nightmare in
which the Swarms had made a covert invasion of the Safrak Islands.
        There had been no such invasion.
        Alozay still maintained its integrity.
        But the outer stairs had fallen to ruin, so Guest had no
choice but to descend the inner stairs, and thus to precipitate a
confrontation with the demon Italis - a confrontation which he had
wished to defer until after he had met his father in conference.
        So down Guest went, descending the inner stairs until he came
in sight of that monolithic block of rock, twice his own height,
which was as green as jade, that smoothest and hardest of stones,
which the Ngati Moana call -
        What is the word?
        Pounamu.
        Remembering that word, Guest remembered Untunchilamon. And
so, as he looked around the Hall of Time - trying to see past the
demon Italis - the Weaponmaster's head was alive with incongruous
memories of tropical heat, of monkeys and of and coconut palms.
        There was nobody in the Hall of Time.
        Not as far as Guest could see.
        The Hall was empty. Its walls were terribly scarred by fire,
and its tiles, which had once been patterned with skull-shaped
designs, were scarred and blistered. Turning his attention back to
Italis, Guest realized that there was a spark of brightness moving
within the demon. A spark? Watching the lurid light which flashed
and pulsed inside the demon, Guest realized it was a sphere about
the size of a fist, and realized this was Shabble. That explained
why nothing had been heard of the shining one since it had left
Guest on his desert island.
        "Greetings," said Guest, addressing himself to Icaria Scaria
Iva-Italis, the jade-green monolith which stood before him.
        The demon did not respond. It heard him, surely. It saw him,
surely. But it said nothing. Within its substance, Shabble batted
from side to side, trapped, caged, irrevocably imprisoned. And
Guest, his memories of Untunchilamon fading fast, remembered
instead the night when he and his father had fought against Banker
Sod, striving for control of the mainrock Pinnacle. It was an
alliance with Italis which had allowed Guest to win that battle
and make himself master of Safrak.
        Guest waited.
        He refused to be intimidate by this thing, or by its silence.
It could say nothing to disturb him, nothing to upset him, nothing
to make him afraid. He was past all that.
        So thought Guest.
        Then the demon spoke.
        "So," said Italis. "You have come to kill your father."
        The words had weight. They were backed by an infinity of
perception, of thought, of analysis, of years of study and of
silent interrogation of probability.
        And Guest, absorbing the words, felt his eyes become hot with
tears. Then his mouth was wrenched open, and he found himself
gasping for air. In huge, heaving gasps, he dragged in the air as
his grief claimed him. For he had seen his doom, and had seen his
father's doom, and had seen that there was no avoiding it.