The Mad God's Amulet

D'Averc coughed theatrically and smiled down at his prisoners. "I fear I must leave you soon, gentlemen.

This subterranean air is not good for me. However, it should do little harm to two such robust young fellows as yourselves. You will not have to stay here more than a day, I assure you. I have sent a request for a larger ornithopter that will be able to bear the two of you back to Sicilia, where my main force is now encamped."

"You have taken Sicilia already?" Hawkmoon asked tonelessly. "You have conquered the isle?"

"Aye. The Dark Empire wastes little time. I, in fact"-D'Averc coughed with mock modesty into his scarf-"am the hero of Sicilia. It was my leadership that subjugated the island so swiftly. But that triumph was no special one, for the Dark Empire has many capable captains like myself. We have made many gains in Europe these past few months-and in the East, too."

"But the Kamarg still stands," Hawkmoon said.

"That must irritate the King-Emperor."

"Oh, the Kamarg cannot last long besieged," said D'Averc airily. "We are concentrating our particular attention on that little province. Why, it may have fallen already…"

"Not while Count Brass lives," Hawkmoon smiled.

"Just so," D'Averc said. "I heard he was badly wounded and his lieutenant von Villach slain in a recent battle."

Hawkmoon could not tell whether D'Averc was lying. He let no emotion show on his face, but the news had shocked him. Was the Kamarg ready to fall -and if so, what would become of Yisselda?

"Plainly that news disturbs you," D'Averc murmured. "But fear not, Duke, for when the Kamarg falls it will be in my safekeeping if all goes well I plan to claim the province as my reward for capturing you.

And these, my boon companions," he continued, indicating his brutish servants, "I will elevate to rule the Kamarg when I cannot. They share all aspects of my life-my secrets, my pleasures. It is only fair that they should share my triumph. Ecardo I will make steward of my estates, and I think I shall make Peter here a Count."

From within the giant's mask came an animal grunt.

D'Averc smiled. "Peter has few brains, but his strength and his loyalty are without question. Perhaps I'll replace Count Brass with him."

Hawkmoon stirred angrily in his chains. "You are a wily beast, D'Averc, but I will not let you goad me to an outburst, if that's what you desire. I'll bide my time. Perhaps I'll escape you yet. And if I do-you may live in terror for the day when our roles are reversed and you are in my power."

"I fear you are too optimistic, Duke. Rest here, enjoy the peace, for you'll know none when you get to Granbretan."

With a mocking bow, D'Averc left, his men following. The torchlight faded, and Hawkmoon and Oladahn were left in darkness.

"Ah," came Oladahn's voice after a while. "I find it difficult to take my position seriously after all that has happened today. I am still not even sure whether this be dream, death, or reality."

"What did happen to you, Oladahn?" Hawkmoon asked. "How could you survive that great leap? I had imagined you dashed to death beneath the tower."

"By rights I should have been," Oladahn agreed.

"If I had not been arrested by ghosts in midfall."

"Ghosts? You jest."

"Nay. These things-like ghosts-appeared from windows in the tower and bore me gently to earth.

They were the size and shape of men but barely tangible…"

"You fell and knocked your head and dreamed this stuff!"

"You could be right." Suddenly Oladahn paused.

"But if so, I am dreaming still. Look to your left."

Hawkmoon turned his head, gasping in astonishment at what he saw. There, quite plainly, he could see the figure of a man. Yet, as if through a pool of milk, he could see beyond the man and make out the wall behind him.

"A ghost of a classic sort," Hawkmoon said.

"Strange to share a dream…"

Faint, musical laughter came from the figure standing over them. "You do not dream, strangers. We are men like you. The mass of our bodies is merely altered a little, that is all. We do not exist in quite the same dimensions as you. But we are real enough. We are the men of Soryandum."

"So you have not deserted your city," Oladahn said.

"But how did you attain this… peculiar state of existence."

The wraith-man laughed again. "By control of the mind, by scientific experiment, by a certain mastery of time and space. I regret that it would be impossible to describe how we came to this condition, for we reached it, among other ways, by the creation of an entirely new vocabulary, and the language I would use would mean nothing to you. However, be assured of one thing-we are still able to judge human character well enough and recognize you as potential friends and those others as actual enemies."

"Enemies of yours? How so?" Hawkmoon asked.

"I will explain later." The wraith-man glided forward until he was leaning over Hawkmoon. The young Duke of Koln felt a strange pressure on his body, and then he was lifted up. The man might have looked intangible, but he seemed far stronger than an ordinary mortal. From the shadows two more of the wraith-people drifted, one to pick up Oladahn and the other to raise his hand and somehow produce a radiance in the dungeon that was mellow yet adequate to illuminate the whole place. Hawkmoon saw that the wraith-men were tall and slender, with thin, handsome faces and blind-seeming eyes.