The Richest of Savory Meals

The far-ranging travels of Gaunatico and Duir did not except the town of Euspath.
"Euspath is a name familiar to me for an unclear reason. Clarify it," Gaunatico instructed his manservant.
"Euspath's notoriety, sir, is for its virtue, specifically the probity of its citizens."
Nor did their stay put the lie to that reputation. The locals mentioned nothing about bribes, charged prices unable to be construed as exorbitant, and caught up to them bearing the items they pretended to lose with the thought of engineering an excuse. Aside from that, the town had as much of interest as any other. Upon their retirement for the evening Gaunatico proposed to move on the next day, a plan to which Duir had no mind to object. Both slept easily and thoroughly.
They awoke chained to the ground before a pit which blessed them by concealing its depth and contents. The floor was hard, the air close, and worst of all, the place was unfurnished. Behind them, a man spoke.
"Welcome, visitors. I will initiate you into our local custom. First I will employ this dagger which I hold above you, examine it if you like, to cut out your sins. Second I will cast your sins into that pit before you, likely you have surveyed it already, as meals for my creation. Third, you will have left town by then, my creation will emerge and wreak such massacres as will excite the literary imagination for generations. Now then."
The sorcerer yanked back Duir's head and sliced down his chest from which he pulled a dark mass. He did the same to Gaunatico. Both marveled, for neither bled or was harmed at all. The two masses flew above them into the pit, whence soon they heard the terrible sound of a beast's feeding. An awful roar followed that, then silence.
The man walked to the edge and looked down. "It's dead. I didn't expect that. What do you get up to out there? Please don't tell me, since I am no hardier than my poor abomination. I will release you now."
"Don't hurry if it puts you out," Gaunatico told him. "I feel refreshed as I haven't in years. I might stay for a month."
"Please don't," the sorcerer begged.
Finis

The Fly's Gratitude

One day the great progenitor came upon the fly in distress. "Help me!" it cried. "I'm on this weed over here but I want to be on that one!"
The great progenitor, wise, with no thought of gain, suggested, "Have you tried flying there?"
The fly did so and was amazed at the success of the plan. "Thank you! Someday I'll come to your aid in return!"
"In what way could you ever aid me?"
"I don't know!"
Ever since then flies have flitted about us, hoping one day to be of use.
Finis

Immortal Accommodations

"As for where we go after death and what we do, there is nothing but mystery," the wise man finished.
The listening king thought that over. "We are guilty of an oversight then if we, who have been sure to provide for our living subjects, fail to do the same for our dead. We must set off a park for them alone we will call "heaven" and furnish it. What do the dead like to have?"
Without any pause such as a less thoughtful man might have needed, the wise man said, "Your Majesty, it is universally observed that the corpse grows cold and hard. Unquestionably a warm bath would soothe them handsomely."
"Very good. We will have a warm bath put in and beside it, on tables, bowls of porridge easy in the eating."
All this was done, and soon the dead visited heaven, not only those of the kingdom but from without also. Even when the king imposed a fee on the foreign dead, that did not deter them. The removal of currency worried other rulers with the result that they forbade their dead the journey, but the people revolted over it. In the end they made their own heavens and each land had its own, and later each town as well, funded by its guilds.
Finis

An Echo of Two Thousand Years

Ennraeso paused before the gap in the unearthed wall, overcome. "Gentlemen. It was our grandfathers who began the work of deciphering the Yuyingi script unread for over two thousand years. It was our fathers who scoured the land and wandered through documents in their search for remains of that civilization formerly sorted among the annals of fancy rather than history. It is we who will consummate the great endeavor."
Terefesso, Uillanso, Iflenso, and Raalhu bowed their heads as if they only then felt the weight of their inheritance despite having contributed to it themselves through worthy exertions. The other men felt nothing of the momentary emotion, but as laborers they understood the satisfaction at the end of a long job done ably.
At last Ennraeso's agitation settled and he penetrated a silence older than history. His pace was steady and his direction sure despite the obscurations of time. The settlement had been small and built for a simple purpose, that of providing what Vgounde's limitless genius required. Nowhere but the center could have been allotted for the residence of that peerless master of wisdom and every elevated art.
Inside Vgounde's study, what they expected, what they hoped, what they yearned to find, they found. Text, inscribed in the walls, etched in tablets, and written on scrolls, everywhere text in the Yuyingi script so long lost but now reclaimed. Ennraeso, his belly a battlefield between hesitation and eagerness, took hold of a scroll and manfully unrolled it.
"I, Vgounde, leave this message for the one who will read this two thousand, three hundred eight years from today. Ahaha, what are you doing, man? Hardly anyone can read this stuff right now while I'm alive. Yeesh! Why should they learn? So they read out temple accounts when the girls pass by on the way to the well? Pfft. That doesn't impress our ladies, Ennraeso, and not yours either. I have foreseen this.
"Listen, brother. Listen. It's not too late to learn a real skill. Try saddle-making. We don't even have saddles! That's how dumb we are! You want to benefit from our ancient knowledge? Ain't got none, hahaha. Whew! What a waste of time.
"I feel bad for you, I really do, so I left one little bit of magic we have that you don't in this room. You don't need it yourself, but in eighty-three years people will think of you sometimes. All right, I have to be a little honest here or the gods will take away my gifts. They're going to declare you an unequaled benefactor of mankind and the model for all scholars. No, really, they will, but brother, this is it. You can already read enough. Now get out there and pick up an instrument. One of those deals with a bunch of parts we don't have words for. We've just got wood with holes in it, man! Haha, have a good evening, Ennraeso! Oh, by the way, your butler has already sold off most of your silver. You got pewter in those cabinets, brother."
"I thought so. I must send a letter to dismiss him," Ennraeso said, unruffled.
Finis

The First Shaping of the Land

Shortly after the world was created, there was land and nothing else, and flat land to boot. There was nothing of interest. Animals roamed without purpose.
By miraculous chance, First Horse and First Bee. Bored, they exchanged a few boasts.
"Behold how I fly," First Bee proclaimed. "What do your legs do?"
First Horse snorted and kicked the ground, crumpling it up into valleys and hills. "So much for not having strong legs. What can you do?" He showed his contempt further by spitting. The salive dribbled into the valleys and started up the rivers.
"Lord! Master! Great one! I admire what you did. I'll make a new home for you to rest half the day after you perform your feats." First Bee flew up and made the first beehive for First Horse. We call it the sun.
That was how the work of creation began. As for everything else, the oceans, the mountains, the lakes, plateaus, forests, clouds, corn, all else there is, First Pig was busy inventing it at the same time but he never got much honor for it. Things usually go similarly today.
Finis

Magely Courage

At the conference of apprentices, an informal matter, a consensus could not be reached as to which profession was the unhappiest to pursue, since each declared his own to be the worst save Emet.
"Candle-making, grave-digging, wagon-driving? It is fortunate there are still humble people like you in the world who expect nothing! Mining, bandit-hunting, guarding gates? You are all very brave! I cannot imagine having a job that would put me at risk!" That was how he taunted his peers before they parted.
He returned to his master, Hastef the great mage, who was engaged in altering eerie liquids confined to shallow silver vessels for some elevated purpose. Emet recognized, though of course could not reproduce, the Reinforce Glass Against Hail spell. That was not its genuine effect; his master's custom was to name his methods deceptively, seeing no reason offer rewars for rival mages whose arcane sight penetrated his defenses.
"Emet." Not every mage had the confidence to give a spell of that complexity less than his whole focus. "You must be reinvigorated by the society you keep. Enough to tackle the red one on your desk."
"Yes, Master." Emet picked up the red sleeve and looked at the first page within. A spell of My Stupid Apprentice Will Die If He Casts This. Very amusing. "What is its actual purpose?"
Emet looked up and discovered his master to be staring at him, his labors paused. The sleeve felt hot in his hands; no, it was hot. Emet dropped it with a cry, whereupon Hastef, his voice low, said, "Ascertain the purpose through use. You can try the black one if you prefer. But you must cast a new spell today. Either that or accept dismissal."
Emet looked at the black sleeve. He had noticed it before but had been unable to perceive it as an item with physical properties. Lifting the front away with a tentative finger, he saw that within was an Indicate Presence of Nearby Treasure spell. He jerked the finger away, not as a result of any definite sensation but simply from a sense it would be wise. He turned his eyes, the sole part of his body which consented to move, back to meet his master's gaze.
"Today you are to learn of what bravery consists in regard to magic," the great mage uttered.
Finis

Generations of Courage

"I am afraid that because of that pact, Galegmos may be harmed by nothing but the sword Condita, lost long ago. I can give you my notes to help you find it, but . . ."
"But?" The brave young members of the desperate band leaned forward to ensure they heard every one of the sage's words.
"But Condita may only be wielded by the descendants of Bevler, into whose hands the spirits first gave it!"
The rapt listeners gasped in dismay. "Are there any alive today? How can we find them?"
The sage held up his fingers and began to count. "Well, I'm one. And three of you. Sorry, little Yodly. And that shepherd passing by right now." They all paused to look outside at the whistling peasant. "Then there's most of the villagers in Hurglen down the road, except for the Rundels of course. They're later arrivals. Then, if you go to Trantose, eight thousand, six hundred nine trace their blood back to Bevler. I have suspicions about a couple thousand more there. After that . . ."
The eager seekers assured the sage that they had enough candidates to get started.
Finis

The Puzzle at the Core

A kingdom once suffered from a terrible drought. The king sent a letter to the king of the moon, asking if he could see anything wrong with the weather from up there. The response suggested that the rainclouds he wanted were gathered around Mt. Hustis to the north.
The king went himself to investigate. The clouds there told him this: "We wish to continue on to your kingdom and other lands, but a strange creature asks a question of everyone who tries to pass, even us, turning aside those who get it wrong, as all do."
The king challenged the creature without delay, for at his side he had councilors wise in riddles.
"You wish to pass?" asked the beast, a terrible thing which had two hands, two claws, and two pincers at the end of its mighty arms, and four distinct tails beside. "Then give me the right answer. Where are my glasses? I can't find them anywhere."
"They're on that," the king said while pointing to a flat rock he had passed earlier.
"Oh, thank you. You may pass."
"I would rather the rains pass instead. But tell me, what is the use in asking clouds for help? They cannot see."
"Neither can they speak."
"Ah! That is true!" Starting then the king began to question the nature of the local clouds, leading to consequences unforseeable and widely felt.
Finis

Grass Never Greener

A few poorly aimed blasts down the corridor discouraged the lizron troopers from approaching without more support, which was all Tim Shelton could think to do. "I can't believe I'm stuck dying with you of all people."
"Go right ahead, but I won't be reciprocating." With a final application of his genuine technical skills typically put to less scrupulous purposes, Chester Leffaud brought the strange machine to life. "Now, to which dimension would you like to escape?"
Tim scrambled into the nearer seat. "A peaceful one! Have it find us the one where the best girl always wins!"
"Finally, a sign of real taste." Chester slid into his own seat and instructed the onboard computer. The dislocation effect enfolded the dimension-traveling vehicle just in time to deflect the weapons of the most daring lizrons who burst into the room. The two men waved as the technological marvel faded and disappeared.
*******
Their destination exhibited some differences from the typical alternative dimension. For instance, there was nothing but a wide platform and beyond it a phenomenon which ancient inherited survival instincts not needed for millions of years recognized as the true void. A good third of the platform was occupied by an array of pillars and spires which varied in thickness and height, some a risk to unshod feet and others fit to moor a zeppelin, supposing any still existed out there among the dimensions.
The pillars spoke. At least, several among them became alternately light and dim in a sequence which matched the rising and falling tones of the disembodied voice the men heard. "There is no such dimension as that which you strove to reach. There is much else that is similarly flawed, all because of the calamity which sent the totality of existence down the wrong path. Become Dimensional Guardians, and with you as my agents we can at last begin to set right that ancient mistake."
There was no hesitation from either man.
Finis

Fierce Training Legend

Once there was a trollslayer so superlative in his accomplishments that the number of trolls dwindled below a point at which he was forced to evaluate his career.
"I hear more complaints about ogres than trolls these days. I never learned much about soil or negotiations, so why shouldn't I learn to slay ogres instead?"
With that reasoning he sought great ogreslayers to learn the trade, but he learned there were none worthy of consideration in the region, a lack which explained the contemporary situation. Having ascertained that, he approached an arms instructor who was known to have seen an ogre once. The instructor began by asking, "What is your usual method for dispatching trolls?"
"I approach with my weapon ready, I concentrate my vigor, and I shout, this is my habit but not an immutable one, 'Die, troll!' I then lop off its savage head with my flashing brand."
"Very good." The instructor considered. "I suggest this change. Try, when the shouting period is reached, to substitute 'Die, ogre,' for your typical address."
After a few drills, both judged the technique worthy of a trial, which proved the merits thereof. Soon the number of ogres dwindled too, but by then the ogreslayer had purchased productive land.
Finis

Unwise Victories and Their Consequences

A battle beyond numbers and courage, beyond strategy, beyond description! Ultimately, the champions of Law triumphed and expelled Chaos forever. Jubilant, they assembled to hear the vision of their trusted leaders.
"From now on, all these terrible practices can be properly forbidden: Murder, fraud, and taking stuff out of treasure chests that aren't yours without permission."
Stunned, the champions recalled the warnings of the sages of Balance that the world needed Law and Chaos both! But what use was regret then?
Finis

The Adventure of the Glass Dragon

Daszel crushed the last nut-sized concentration of magic between his fingers. Removing the alarms had been arduous and unrelated to his safety, for the mage who owned the place would have been worse off for acknowledging the intruder. The client wanted secrecy though, and Daszel the Stymph's clients got what they wanted down to the detail.
The main thing this one wanted was among the treasures deep below the earth in the mage's sanctum mirabiliorum, some of them plainly valuable and others coveted only by the knowledgeable. Daszel touched none of them save for the requested item, a glass figure the size of a rich man's stomach which represented a dragon and had inside it an unnatural gem which gave the thing a pleasing radiance. There it was.
He sent a charm of comprehension to caress the dragon; he was ever wary of traps and curious too about the importance of this innocuous gewgaw despite his policy of not bothering his clients with questions. The item must have some secret to it, and so it did. The gem within was a dragon's heart, something few realized could be so small. The work of converting the figurine into the core of a new body was well underway; a dragon reduced to its heart was a play reduced to its script and awaiting the right actor.
What use someone (whether mage or client) might make of a dragon was likely to worry the moral, but since Daszel contented himself with ethics, he absconded with the dragon and brought it to the client, whose gratitude came in a substantial form.
"Although," the man said, "It seems a bit different from when he displayed it before. The color is a little fuller, but duller too."
"It's closer to reviving, that's all."
"It's what?"
The resulting conversation left the client quivering like a tax farmer who saw his books in a judge's hands. "Oh, that's, not quite what I . . . Are you prepared to take on another job? Immediately? It's to put something somewhere. Without being noticed."
"I'm Daszel," Daszel answered.
Finis

The Strange Sources of Xenopaleontological Knowledge

I chased the space pirate all the way to Heraclius, one of those worlds that's nothing but grains and farm drones. I expected him to have some goons, a hideout, or at least a cache with a few guns there, but when I tracked him down, he was doing nothing but staring at a rock stuck on a couple other rocks.
"I remember," he said without turning around. "They argue whether a member of one species can be reborn as another, but it has to be true because I remember. I was a great magus once (for by that name we called those with the strongest psychic talents) and kings bowed to me even in their own palaces of brown-purple marble. They put before me the rich flesh of the uyilla, the delicate hobtgui roots, and I undid their difficulties. But even my wisdom failed when . . . Oh, I see the towers, how they crumble! The dead fill the streets and the wails of the living form inescapable clouds! Iauvne, where have you gone? Plellol ecsa, plellol monsa!"
"Fine, but I'm still going to arrest you."
"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I should have waited for a convenient time to come here, but you sort of get these ideas in your head, you know?"
I wasn't interested in conversation with scum, so I didn't answer, but I knew all right.
Finis

Double Heaven

"When the day comes, if you have lived rightly, tranquil fields will be yours to wander. Had you still needs they would be met, but as it is, nothing but untroubled time awaits you for the space of a year.
"At that time a messenger will arrive to inform you of an offer. You may continue to reside in that blessed realm, or you may spin the wheel. Should it stop at a favorable position, you will ascend to a more exciting afterlife, but in the other case, you will return to the mortal world to live and strive for righteousness again.
"The higher afterlife is the province of the witty, the learned, and the well-traveled where lassitude is impossible. Having dwelled there for ten years, the same messenger or another will inform you of another land reached by a similar method. That realm is impossible for me to describe. After a century there, the messenger will approach you again, and so on. Well? Would you take the first chance? The second? What do you think?"
"Grandpa, I wouldn't and neither would anyone else."
"Heroes would, child. And as for those heroes . . . do you think they hope for the outcome you would?"
Finis

Paying the Mage Fee

Obeying the long-standing decree, every mage recognized by the realm save those currently abroad presented himself at the palace to enrich the treasury by one magical item. Fifth-rank mage Hufden handed over a bronze frog whose tongue could be pulled in order to receive an aura discouraging to flies for five hours, after which he returned returning home.
The next morning, he awoke to find the single chair near his bed occupied by a person who happened to be the king.
"Fifth-rank mage Hufden, what was that?"
"Well, Your Majesty, as commanded, an item 'proportional in power to the skill of the producing mage.' Wasn't it?"
"Either you are attempting deceit or else you yourself have no comprehension of your capabilities. Either is a great crime, detection of which is the point of the annual mage fee."
"Your Majesty . . . isn't the point to strengthen the kingdom?"
"Any policy possessing fewer than three sharp points such as a mighty trident has is unworthy of its proclamation. Now forget you heard that, for it is a lesson for rulers, irrelevant to the mage's lessons you have neglected."
Then began deep, assiduous study on the part of the mage overseen personally by the king or, when that august figure was busy, a strangely rare circumstance, the royal executioner. The next year, fifth-rank mage Hufden submitted a bronze frog whose tongue could be pulled in order to learn one secret of the swamps each month. He went on to destroy six armies on the plains of Yezniss, reduce a dragon to draconic extract, raise the Ninefold Bastion, and in general justify the assessment of the king, who knew little of magic but much of men, suitable priorities for his office.
Finis

Summary of the Blastopolitan Saga

For his crimes—saying what he thought and living how he liked—he was given a harsh sentence. He was . . .

EXILED TO BLASTOPOLIS

"I still can't believe I was exiled to Blastopolis, but I'm settling in," said Gilliam Axhagen as he potshotted another astro-mutant with his tri-fission blaster. "Say, what's that building over there, the one they're staying away from? It looks abandoned—just the sort of place they usually like. Could that be the location of one of the . . ."

SECRETS OF BLASTOPOLIS

"We've uncovered some of the secrets of Blastopolis." Fred Wendell laid a paternal hand on Gilliam's shoulder. "But we won't be able to understand much more unless you become . . ."

RULER OF BLASTOPOLIS

"Now that there's a true ruler of Blastopolis, we can hope for some order," said Fender Bivins as he vaporized one of the last four remaining sludge-trudgers. "But who knows what could be out there, out . . ."

BEYOND BLASTOPOLIS

"It turns out readers don't much care what's beyond Blastopolis." The publisher laid a paternal hand on the writer's shoulder. "We really think it would be better to take things . . ."

BACK TO BLASTOPOLIS
TRIUMPH IN BLASTOPOLIS
WAR IN BLASTOPOLIS
SURVIVORS OF BLASTOPOLIS
EXCURSION BEYOND BLASTOPOLIS
RETURN TO BLASTOPOLIS
GENESIS OF BLASTOPOLIS
CANCELLATION OF BLASTOPOLIS
REVIVAL OF BLASTOPOLIS
Finis

The Inscrutable Meed of Valor

After the battle, the great spirit Elgophan addressed Jinios thus: "You, a mortal man, have made an unforgettable exhibition of your might and bravery against these baercaces. I am minded to exchange gifts. Here, I will have that shield, rent to uselessness save as a trophy, and take you this lizard canister."
"A . . . what?" The firmament sent down a single of its jewel-like stars which resolved itself in Jinios's hands as a canister some eight inches long. Its surface had a dull sheen to it. "Oh, a canister, that I suppose contains a lizard possessed of peculiar virtues." "There is no lizard inside it."
"Oh. Can it contain a lizard?"
"Certainly."
"Can it be filled with things other than lizards?"
"It must be so, before the end."
While Jinios examined it the mysterious gift, Elgophan disappeared, and never again did they meet.
Years later, the theft of the Gochish Arract from the despot's vault succeeded as far as the acquisition, but the extraction was another matter. Jinios acted to assist the rash but likable thieves by hiding the Arract on his person, but the thorough guards restricted their examination in no way at all.
"Nothing on this one, but what might he be hiding in here?" The guard held up the canister and shook it.
"Haven't you ever seen a lizard canister? All you're doing is agitating the lizard. And wasting time."
With that, the canister was handed back to Jinios, who, awed at the manifold windings of fate, then recalled the final words of Elgophan.
Finis

Apotheosis Dawn

For assorted reasons, some of them exciting in their own right, a traveler wandered untracked lands, lonely and anxious about his prospects. When he came across a stone building that resembled him in its solitude, a suspicious sight, he reckoned the risk of disaster better than the certainty. There he found succor.
"Welcome, traveler, to Yulril Abbey. You may stay here one day and night and then go away provisioned."
"Thank you. To what god is this abbey dedicated, that I might thank him?"
"We're waiting to find that out ourselves. Perhaps we erred in our order, but we trust one will come to us. Hm. You are the first layman to visit; are you perhaps the very god?"
"How could I be confused for a god?"
"No, of course that's impossible. Please come this way."
At the time the traveler thought nothing of having someone agree with him, but after he recovered his place in society, the abbot's tone became in his memory somewhat excessively firm. Nettled, he embarked on a course of greatness in both the political realm and in feats of personal courage, succeeding so well that the great admiration he earned during his life tranformed into a hero-cult after his death which justified itself to the priestly community through numerous confirmed miracles and prophecies. Yulril Abbey's cenobites never heard of it so far as anyone knew.
Finis

The City Majestic in Flight

The astrologers issued their report. In consequence, the gates closed, the citizens took their positions in reinforced halls, and the city rose as thaumaturgical engineers oversaw the abstruse processes which enabled the migration.
The people of Invarn thrived to such a degree that they no longer accepted seasons as something merely to be endured bur rather as a problem which must admit a solution provided they bent themselves to finding it. They had not misjudged their capacity. The city floated with practiced ease and had already accomplished three landings. What could prevent a fourth?
The dastards of Rellen-Bollat! Their agents had stolen the knowledge, nor did the king blush to imitate his rival in every particular. The two cities spotted each other and raced to the ideal position, above which they bumped against each other over and over till both were forced to land in order to effect repairs. The nomads of Tutsuna arrived in the meantime to claim the spot, though the Kauneggi tribe, displaced from its homeland, arrived to contest that pretension.
Seeing that, Invarn rose again, but nowhere was there unclaimed land. The population had grown too great. The city's sages started to plan.
Finis

Battle Statue War Record

Year 1
"I have succeeded in animating a statue capable of replicating any human action while being tireless and hardy beyond flesh. Soon legions of battle statues will humble my neighboring wizard-kings, just so soon as I produce a sufficient force."

Year 3
"The quarrying is going well. My menial statues are superior to human workers when properly supervised. Of course I must hire competent supervisors, but money is easily at hand; a portion of the yield can be sold abroad."

Year 7
"By now, half the carriage drivers in the region are my statues, except in those city-states which prohibit them. Don't they know battle statues and the menial type are completely different? But then, how could they? Only I know the secret. Unfortunately, current designs lack the delicacy required for fruit-picking, but the stevedores are coming along excellently."

Year 28
"For now I have delegated governance and research in favor of training new sculptors, though I am unsure I will resume those pursuits afterward. My current interests lean more toward selecting personnel for the proposed branch offices and ensuring the materials for my new mansion justify the asserted prices. Lately I have had a feeling of neglecting some plan, but it would be more surprising if such were not the case. My conceptions are endless, and despite how the payroll has grown, I have never been busier. I can barely find time to add to this journal, let alone read it. Perhaps I should hire someone, but anyone competent is needed for a dozen roles of greater importance."
Finis