The Book Of Dreams
By Jack Vance
Book 5 in the "Demon Prince" Series


Chapter 1
From The Book of Dreams

Raise your eyes, stranger, to that age-worn rampart
which confronts all else there stand the paladins, stern,
grave, serene Each is one, each is all

At the center is Imrrur of the graces He controls certain
sleights of magic, he is master of ploys and plots and awful
surprises He is Immir the unpredictable and claims no sin-
gle color

At Immir's right hand stands Jeha Rais, who is tall in ma)-
esty and whose color is black He is sagacious and always
first to notice a far event, for which he construes eventu-
alities Then he points his finger, to direct the gaze of the
other paladins He is without qualm and advocates dcci
siveness Sometimes he is known as "Jsha the Inexorable "
He wears a black garment, supple and close as his skin, a
black cape and a black morion, fixed at the crest with an
orb of crystal in a silver star-blaze

At Immir's left hand stands Lons Hohenger, whose color
is the red of new blood He is the feroce, impulsive and
reckless, and ever reluctant to leave the slaying grounds,
though of all the paladins he can be most generous He
lusts after fair women and they deny him at great risk to
their dignity Should they make complaint or give chiding,
his redress is even more fulsome. When finally he lea\es

THE DEMON PRINCES

the bed their voices are still and they look longingly after
him.

Green Mewness stands beside Loris Hohenger. Expert in
skills is Mewness. He can fling a bridge or topple a tower;

he is patient, cunning, and if the road is closed to right and
left, he finds a way between. His memory is exact; he never
forgets a face or a name and he knows the ways of a hun-
dred worlds. Soft men of wealth think him ingenuous in his
dealings, to their ultimate consternation.

Yellow Spangleway is wry, astonishing, and ignores every
precedent. He is antic and droll, and able in the acting of
roles. All the paladins, save only one, laugh to see his capers;

when the time is appropriate allsave only onedance to
his musics, for Spangleway can elicit sweet sounds from a
dangling pig, should he so choose to turn his skills. Never
think to match Spangleway jape for jape, since his knife is
even keener than his wit. In battle, the enemy cries out:

"Where is the laggard Spangleway?" or: "Aha! The coward
Spangleway takes to his heels'" only to have him on their
necks from a new direction, or in some shocking guise.

Beside Jeha Rais stands gentle Rhune Fader the Blue. In
battle, though he is dauntless and first to succor a hard-
pressed paladin, he is also first to urge mercy and forbear-
ance. He is slim, tall, clear of feature, and handsome as the
summer sunrise; he is skilled in the arts and graces and
sensitive to beauty in all things, especially the beauty of shy
maidens upon whom he casts a glamour. Alas, in the battle
councils the voice of Rhune Fader carries little weight.

Beside blue Rhune, and a little apart, stands eerie white Eia
Panice, whose hair, eyes, long teeth, and skin are white. He
wears a full casque of white metal and little of his face can
be seen: a high-bridged hooked nose, a harsh chin, gleam-
ing eyes. In the councils he speaks, for the most part, either
"yea" or "nay," but more often than not his word decides
the issue, for he seems to know the ways of Destiny. Alone
among the paladins he is unmoved by the droll contrivances
of Spangleway. Indeed, on those occasions when his grim
smile is seen, then is the time for all who can to depart and

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

never look back lest they discover the limpid gaze of Eia
Panice fixed into their own.

So then, stranger, go your way. When at last you make your
homecoming, wherever it may be among the sparkling
worlds, bring report of those who stand brooding yonder.

From The Demon PrincesCaril Carphen:

... we turn the focus of our attention upon Howard
Alan Treesong, his wry exploits and the incredible virtu-
osity of his organizational genius. At the outset let me, in
all candor, confess my awe and perplexity: I do not know
where to start. He is possibly the greatest rogue of all (if,
in that perfervid ambience surrounding the Demon Princes,
such niceties of comparison carry any shred of conviction).
Certainly he is attended by the most extravagant contradic-
tions. His cruelty is wanton and horrid, so that his occa-
sional magnanimities are cast into sharp relief. Judged by
the elaborate methodtcalness of his programs, he would
seem passionless, absolutely logical. Against a different per-
spective, he is seen to be volatile and as frivolous as a circus
clown. He is a mystery, and his ultimate purposes cannot
even be guessed.

Howard Alan Treesong! A name of magic, instilling dread
and wonder! W^hat, precisely, is known of him? The few
nodes of fact are made ambiguous by a luminous dust of
rumor. He is declared to be the most solitary person alive;

by other reports he is the ultimate ruler of all criminals.
His person is said to be unremarkable: tall, thin, with well-
shaped if gaunt features and pale gray eyes of exceptional
clarity. His expression is often described as droll and his
manner vivacious. He dresses most usually in ordinary gar-
ments, without ostentation. By all accounts he enjoys the
company of beautiful women, none of whom seems to profit
from the association either spiritually or financially. To the
contrary, the romances of which anything is known all end
tragically, if not worse.

748 THE DEMON PRINCES

The events which finally brought Howard Alan Treesong to bay
ran an erratic coursetwisting, forking, making confused halts and
unlikely linkagesa consequence of the mystery in which Treesong
shrouded himself. According to the few extant descriptions, Tree-
song stood rather taller than ordinary with a luminous gaze, a broad
forehead, a narrow jaw and chin, and a foxy rueful mouth. His
manner was usually described as gracious with a metallic undertone.
Almost every account mentioned a "curious field of suppressed en-
ergy," or "unpredictable extravagance," and in one case the word
"madness" was used.

Treesong's obsession with mystery extended far. No photo-
graphs, representations, or likenesses were known to exist, on or
off the public record. His origins were unknown; his private life
was as secret as the far end of the universe; he regularly disappeared
from public notice for years on end.

Treesong's zone of operations encompassed the Oikumene; he
rarely ventured Beyond. He was known to have used for himself
the title "Lord of the Overmen."*

Gersen picked up the track of Howard Alan Treesong essen-
tially by dint of abstract reasoningpure deduction in the classical
patternusing information supplied by one Walter Koedelin, an
old-time associate and now a Senior Officer of the IPCC.2

The two met in Sailmaker Beach, to the north of Avente, the
metropolis of Alphanor, first among Rigel's Concourse of Worlds.

Chancy's Tea House at the top of Sailmaker Beach overlooked a
thousand small houses, shops, taverns, and a small plaza used by a
hundred kinds of people. Each structure was washed a different
color: pale blue, pale green, lavender, pink, white, yellow, and each
cast a stark black shadow to the crackling Rigel-glare. Far below
could be seen a small crescent of beach. Beyond, the Thaumaturge
Ocean, soft dark blue, extended to the horizon, where floated pin-
nacles of white cumulus.

1. The allusion is perhaps explained in a paragraph from an interview in which Freesong
stated "Men exploit animals to their needs and think nothing of the process So-called
criminals exploit die ordinary ruck to their needs in die same manner, employ ing equal
morality, hence criminals are properly to be known as 'Overmen ' "
2 Intei-world Police Coordinating Company originally a small bureau, collecung and
collating information for the various police organizations of the Oikumene, gradually- ex-
panding, diversifying, and undertaking special missions, at last to become die largest and
most efficient law-enforcement agency of the human universe

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 749

At a table shaded under a dense growth of dark green memaris
sat Kirth Gersen and Walter Koedelin, a sandy-haired, pink-
skinned man somewhat more stocky than Gersen, with a short-
nosed, big-jawed face. Like Gersen, he wore spaceman's dark blue
and gray, the costume for folk who hoped to avoid attention. The
two men drank rum punch and discussed Howard Alan Treesong.

In the company of Gersen, Koedelin spoke without restraint.
"What is he up to now? That's a real puzzle. Ten years ago he
called himself 'Lord of the Overmen.* "

"In effect, 'King of Thieves.' "

"Exactly. He licensed every illicit act from Far Edge to Tan-
giers Old Socco. One rime Howard walked a backstreet in Bug-
town, on Arccurus IV, and a mugger jumped out. Howard asked:

'Are you registered with the Organization?'

" 'No, I am not.'

" 'Then you'll not get a cent from me, and I'm also turning
you in for a fink.' "

Koedelin drained his goblet of rum punch and looked up at the
dark green foliage from which depended strips of pink blossoms.
"Splendid place for microphones. I wonder who is listening to us."

"No one, according to Chancy."

"It's hard to be certain nowadays. Still, the Organization isn't
all that strong around here."

Gersen raised his hand. "Two more of the same. .. . So, Tree-
song is no longer Lord of the Overmen?"

"Hardly that. But he gave up detail work to sublords quite some
time ago. Howard only looks in from rime to rime and runs his eye
over the books."

"Benign fellow. So what is he up to now?"

Koedelin hesitated, calculating his response, then made a fatal-
istic gesture and drew himself forward. "There's no harm in telling
you, although if the story gets wide circulation we'll be embar-
rassed. It may not even be true." Koedelin looked right and left.
"Don't let it go any further."

"Certainly not."

"IPCC administration is rather loosethat you know. There
is a board of directors and a presiding officer, who is now Artur
Sanchero. Five years ago his confidential aide died in an accident.
A close friend recommended a man named Jethro Cope for the job,
and after the usual background check Cope was hired. Cope proved

750 THE DEMON PRINCES

very efficient, so much so that Sanchero had less and less work to
do. And now began a strange process. The directors began to die
by disease, by accidents, by murder and suicide.

"Sanchero, or more accurately Jethro Cope, recommended new
directors who were thereupon voted into office. Jethro Cope always
handled the vote and counted the ballots. He put seven men into
the IPCC board of directors and needed only six more to achieve
a voting majority. He probably would have gotten them had not
one of the new directors, who called himself Bemus Carlisle, en-
countered an agent who recognized him to be Sean McMurtree of
Dublin, Ireland, a high-class blackmailer.

"To make a long story short, McMurtree was quietly expunged,
but not before he mentioned a name. Can you guess the name he
mentioned?"

"Howard Alan Treesong."

"Quite right. The agents went looking for Jethro Cope, but he
was gone and never returned."

"What of the other six new directors?"

"Three were killed. One disappeared. Two are still there. They
have no record; they claim innocence, and the other directors won't
vote them out."

"Very noble, very corrupt, or very frightened."

"Take your choice."

"To be Lord of the Overmen and Chief of the IPCCboth
and at the same timethat's like a beautiful dream, no matter
which side you're on."

"Alas, indeed. Treesong is a sly devil. I'd still like to carve up
his liver."

"What of photographs?"

"Not one to be found."

"So we still don't know what he looks like."

Koedelin gave a grunt of derisive disgust. "People who dealt
with Cope remember long blond curls, a bushy blond beard and
mustache, an affable manner."

"And since then?"

"Nothing. He's gone invisible. I forgot to mention that three
years ago an order went down to the library to void all material
pertaining to Howard Alan Treesong, on the grounds of inaccuracy.
This was done; now there's very little on tap."

"All successful criminals at some time return to their home-

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 751

towns.' Somewhere out there Treesong was born and raised. Doz-
ens of people must know him well. Maybe after three years new
material has come in."

Koedelin, leaning back in his chair, ruminated a minute or two.

"I'll check over my sources and let you know. Where are you stay-
- -^"

.?"

ing:

"At the Miramonte."
"I'll look in about noon, if that's convenient.'

On the following day, at precisely noon, Koedelin joined Gersen
in the observation lounge of the Hotel Miramonte, on Avente's
esplanade.

"It's as I suspected," said Koedelin. "There's not a clue as to
his origin. He first appears on Earth as a young man, robbing banks,
swindling, extorting, committing murders, organizing a strike force.
He's competent at his trade. Still, it's amazing how little we know
of him as a human being."

Declaring himself pressed for time, Koedelin left shortly after.
Gersen went out to walk on the esplanade, which for ten miles
paralleled Avente's superb white sand beach.

The harms Treesong had inflicted upon Gersen were now over
twenty years old, when Treesong had only just attained his full
criminal stature.2 Since this time his exploits had become ever more
grand. ... A wraith of insight nickered through Gersen's mind. He
went to lean on the balustrade.

Three years ago Howard Treesong had dropped from sight.
This man, who had tried to be, simultaneously, King of Thieves
and Chief Director of the IPCC, was certainly not now idle; some-
where he plotted new schemes, more monumental than any before.

Gersen considered a number of possibilities: deeds of cruel
magnificence, ingenious abominations, shame visited upon all hu-
manity. None of Gersen's constructions seemed plausible or worth
the effort. Evidently, so Gersen told himself, he lacked Treesong's
gorgeous, if wild and savage, imagination.

1 Gersen here referred to the book The Criminal Mentality, by Michael Diaz
2. At Mount Pleasant, an agricultural settlement on the world Providence, a consortium
of five master criminalsthe so-called Demon Princeshad dropped out of the sky to
enslave die enure population, killing those who resisted. Kirth Gersen and his grandfather
escaped, and thereafter in Gersen's life there had been room for little but preparation for
retaliation and revenge.

7 S2 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen returned to the hotel and telephoned Koedelin. "Re-
garding the subject of our conversation, it would seem that some-
thing dramatic should be coming to the surface about now. What
would answer that description?"

Koedelin could cite nothing definite. "I've been thinking along
similar lineswaiting, so to speak, for the other shoe to drop. No
matter how hard I listen, I hear only utter silence. . . ."

The three populated Vegan worlds were Aloysius, Boniface, and
Cuthbert. During the first Explosion of Peoples, they had been
settled by religious orders, each more fanatic than the next. In the
sixteenth century of the Space Age the sacerdotal flavor yet lin-
gered, especially in the public buildings, converted from temples
during the "Bum's Rush."

Pontefract on Aloysius, a small city notable mainly for its in-
cessant mist, by some trick of fate had become an important pub-
lishing and financial center. In the oldest section of town,
dominating St. Paidrigh Square, stood the ancient Bramville
Tower, now headquarters of Cosmopolis, a journal of news, photo-
graphs, and short essays. The magazine's contents, sometimes pro-
found, often dramatic or even sentimental, were directed to the
attention of intelligent middle-class folk across the entire Oiku-
mene.

Kirth Gersen, through the manipulations of his financial advi-
ser, Jehan Addels, had acquired a controlling interest in Cosmopolis;

in the guise of Henry Lucas, Special Writer, he used the offices as
a convenient headquarters.

Arriving in Pontefract, Gersen went to dine with Jehan Addels
at his splendid old mansion in Ballyholt Woods, to the north of
Pontefract. During the course of the dinner Gersen mentioned
Howard Alan Treesong and his peculiar invisibility.

Addels instantly became tense. "You speak, naturally, only from
casual interest."

"Wellnot altogether. Treesong is a scoundrel and a criminal.
His influence reaches everywhere. Tonight burglars might break
into this house and steal your Memlings and Van Tasals, not to
mention your Rhodosi rugs. Objects of this quality might go di-
rectly to Treesong himself."

Addels nodded somberly. "It is a serious matter. Tomorrow I
will submit a memorandum to the IPCC."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 753

"It can do no harm."

Addels glanced suspiciously toward Gersen. "I hope that you
take no personal interest m this man?"

"Probably to no great extent."

Addels uttered an angry ejaculation under his breath. "Please
do not include me in these investigations, not to the slightest de-
gree!"

"My dear Addels, how can I avoid coming to you for advice?"

"My advice in this case is succinct and definite: let the IPCC
do their job!"

"That is excellent advice, and I will assist them in this work as
much as possible, and I know that you will do the same."

"Of course, of course," muttered Addels.

At the Cosmopolis library Gersen searched in files for references to
Howard Alan Treesong. These were voluminous and told Gersen
little that he did not know and nothing of the topics which were
his chief concern: Treesong's place of origin and his present
whereabouts. Treesong's pictorial likeness was conspicuous by its
absence.

At the end of a disappointing day, Gersen, for no reason other
than simple persistence, riffled through the contents of a file labeled
Miscellaneous: Sort, discovering nothing to his immediate interest. A
pair of trays marked "File" and "Discard" caught his eye. The
"File" basket was empty; the "Discard" basket contained a large
photograph, almost a foot square, depicting a party at a banquet.
Five men and two women were seated; three men stood somewhat
to the back. At the top someone had scrawled: H. A. Treesong is
here.

With numb fingers and a prickling skin, Gersen stood staring
at the photograph. The camera had recorded a fall circle, from the
center of a circular table, so that each member of the group was
depicted from the front, though none was looking directly at the
camera and perhaps no one was aware that the picture was being
made.

In front of each place stood a curious little semaphore, display-
ing three colored flags, and each place had been served a silver dish
containing three purple-brown objects about four inches high: ap-
parently the first course to the banquet.

Aside from the scrawled notation across the top, the photo-

TIIL DFMON PRINCPS

754

graph lacked further legend except for a number printed at the
bottom 972

The diners were of various ages and races All projected a con-
ndent air, the effluvium of position and wealth They were identi-
fied by place cards, unfortunately turned away from the camera

Gersen looked from face to face Which might be Howard Alan
Treesong2 His description fitted, more or less loosely, perhaps tour
of the men    A file clerk approached, a )aunty young man wearing
a pmk-and-black striped shirt with baggy brown trousers in the
local style He gave Gersen a glance which, while respectful and
affable, also contained the shadow of a sneer Around the Cosmopohs
offices Gersen was regarded as a man of questionable talents.
"Rummaging through the garbage, eh, Mr Lucas2"

"Everything is grist for the mill," said Gersen "This photo-
graph which you were about to throw awaywhere did it come
from2"

"Oh, that affair2 It arrived a few days ago from our Starport
office The Watch and Ward Society at its annual glut, or some-
thing similar Is it useful2"

"Probably not Still, it's rather quaint I wonder who H A
Treesong might be2"

"One of the local gobboons The ladies are absolute frumps
Nothing here for our readers, that I assure you "

But Gersen was not to be discouraged "From our Starport
office, you say Which Starport, incidentally2 There must be at least
a dozen "

"Starport on New Concept, Marhab Six " Again the flavor, al-
most undetectable, of condescension Around Covmopolis no one un-
derstood how Henry Lucas had gained his job, and even less how
he held it

Gersen was indifferent to the opinions of his colleagues. "How
did the photograph get here'"

"It came in the last mailbag When you're finished, throw it
back in the trash, there's a good fellow "

The clerk went off about his duties Gersen took the photo-
graph to his private cubicle and called the personnel office "Who
is our representative at Starport, New Concept2"

"Starport is a zone headquarters, Mr Lucas The /onal super-
intendent is Ailett Mayneth "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

755

Gersen discovered upon looking into Universal Travel Routes that
direct connections between Aloysius and New Concept were non-
existent If he wished to travel by passenger packet he must expect
three stopovers at junction points and three changes of ship, with
consequent delay

Gersen closed Universal Travel Routes and replaced it on the
shelf. He rode out to the spaceport and boarded his Fantamic Flit-
terwmg, a serviceable and competent space cruiser, with a small
cargo hatch and accommodations for four a vessel larger than his
Distis Pharaon and more comfortable than his Armmtor Starship.

In the late afternoon of the day on which he had discovered
the photograph, Gersen departed Aloysius, with Vega hanging cold
in the sky on his port quarter. He gave appropriate coordinates to
the automatic pilot and was whisked off toward the middle reaches
of Aries

During the voyage he studied the photograph at length, and
slowly the banqueters took on a static two-dimensional life Of each
male face Gersen asked "Are you Howard Alan Treesong2"

Some answered indignantly in the negative, others held their
own counsel, and several seemed to return a brooding challenge, as
if to say, "Who I am, what I aminterfere at your own peril'" And
one of the men Gersen examined ever more often, with increasing
fascination Glossy chestnut hair framed a philosopher's forehead,
hollow cheeks were joined to a gaunt )aw by a sheath of corded
muscle, the thin tender mouth was twisted as if in recollection of a
mischievous joke. A face strong and subtle, sensitive but not soft.
the face of a man capable of anything so thought Gersen

Ahead glowed Marhab, off to the right wheeled the planet New
Concept and its three moons.

2

From Civilized Ideas and Civilized Worlds, by Michael
Yeaton:

As the student reflects upon the development of the
newlv settled worlds he notices an odd and ironic circum-
stance, recurring so often as to seem the rule rather than
the exception. The ideal program by which each new so-
ciety is shaped, by some as yet unenunciated law of conduct,
begins to generate its own obverse, or opposite, impulse,
which in due course overcomes the original scheme. Hu-
man perversity? The malice of Fate? Who can say? In any
event, the examples are everywhere. For instance, consider
the world New Concept.. .

Arriving at New Concept, Gersen located Starport and landed at
the space terminal. A sleek car riding a monorail shuttled him the
five miles between the terminal and Starport; Gersen was thereby
afforded a view of the New Concept fells, here overgrown with
heavy, dark blue turf. In the middle distance the dark blue gave way
to maroon, and beyond, purple. A mile from the terminal the
monorail skirted an area of moldering white ruins, originally an
intricate complex of structures in the Neo-Palladian style: almost a
small city. Now the columns were chipped.broken, or toppled; the
roofs had partly collapsed; the once-noble entablatures were stained
and streaked. At first Gersen thought the ruins uninhabited; then
he noticed movement here and there, and a moment later saw a
pack of gangling animals loping across a once-grand plaza.

The ruins fell behind; the monorail entered Starport and came

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

757

to a halt at a central depot. At an information booth Gersen learned
the location of the local Cosmopolis officea suite in a ten-story
tower a few hundred yards from the depotand set out on foot.

Starport seemed a city of no distinction whatever. Except for
the lemon-yellow sunlight and the flavor of the atmosphere,' Ger-
sen might have fancied himself in an outer suburb of Avente on
Alphanor, or any of a dozen quasi-modern cities of the Oikumene.
The folk wore garments similar to those of Avente and the cities
of Earth. Whatever "new concept" had originally been intended,
was now no longer in evidence.

Presenting himself at the Cosmopolis office, Gersen approached
a counter behind which stood an elderly man with a keen birdlike
cast of countenance, bright blue eyes, and a crest of gleaming silver
hair. He was thin, taut and carried himself with a stern and exact
posture, somewhat at odds with his garments, which were casual: a
bright blue turtleneck shirt of lightweight velour, soft beige trou-
sers, and sandals of dark suede. He addressed Gersen in a formally
terse voice: "Sir, your requirements?"

"I am Henry Lucas, from the Pontefract office," said Gersen.
"I would like a few moments with Mr. Ailett Mayneth."

"I am he." Mayneth looked Gersen up and down. "Henry Lu-
cas? I have visited the Pontefract office and I can't remember hear-
ing your name."

"I carry the title 'Special Writer,' " said Gersen. "I am in fact
a general-purpose roustabout; whenever there's a Job too dull or
uncomfortable for anyone else I'm assigned to it."

"I see," said Mayneth. "And what is so dull and uncomfortable
here at Starport?"

Gersen displayed the photograph. Mayneth's manner changed
at once. "Aha! So that is how the wind blows. I wondered what
would happen. So you are here to investigate?"

"That is correct."

"Hmm. Perhaps we can make ourselves more comfortable.
Shall we go up to my apartments?"

"Whatever you like."

Mayneth conducted Gersen to an elevator, which lifted them

1. Experienced space travelers become sensitive to the variations of a breathable atmo-
sphere, discriminating between inert g^ses, oxygen levels, and complex organic exudations
peculiar to ei.erv individual planet In the air of New Concept Gersen noted a muscv
peppery redolence, evidently rising from the blanket of rurf which cloaked the fells.

75S THE DEMON PRINCES

high to the top floor. Mayneth slid open his door with easy in-
difference. Gersen entered what he recognized to be the domicile
of a connoisseur of judgment and, so it would seem, wealth. In all
directions he saw beautiful objects, of various eras and as many
places of origin. Many of the objects Gersen could not precisely
identify: for instance, a pair of earthenware lamps glazed a dull
gray-brown. Possibly ancient Japan? In regard to the rugs he
knew somewhat more, by reason of an episode in his early career.
He recognized a pair of Persian rugs, glowing serenely in the
sunlight, a QUIi-QUn, a Mersilin from the Adar Mountains of Co-
pus, several small Gypsy rugs probably from the Khajar Realm of
Copus. A satinwood case displayed a group of Myrmidense porce-
lains and a casual arrangement of precious old books, bound in
shagreen and hornskin.

"Since I have nothing better to do with myself," said Mayneth
half-apologetically, "I try to surround myself with beautiful objects.
... I fancy myself as a shrewd trader and I enjoy nothing more than
to prowl the country bazaars of some remote little world. This is
my so-called study. The books in here are exclusively from Earth.
A miscellany, I fear. But sit down, if you will." Mayneth touched a
gong with his fingers, producing a plangent tone. A servant ap-
peared, a young girl of odd appearance, thin and supple as an eel,
with a shock of curly white hair, slate-colored eyes in a small
pinched face, a small pointed chin, and a thin lavender mouth. She
wore a short white smock and moved with a curious lithe sliding
gait. She watched the two men attentively, without any trace of
self-consciousness. Gersen could not identify her racial stock. He
thought that, if she were not feebleminded, her rationality was
surely of a most unconventional sort.

Mayneth hissed between his teeth, touched the palm of his
hand, held up two fingers; the girl backed away. She returned al-
most immediately with a tray, two goblets, and two squat bottles.
Mayneth took the tray; the girl was gone in a whisk of fluttering
smock. Mayneth poured. "Our excellent Swallowtail beer." He
served Gersen and picked up the photograph, which Gersen had
placed on the table. "A very strange affair, this." He seated himself,
drank a dainty swallow of beer. "A woman came into the office,
and I inquired her business. She stated that she had valuable infor-
mation which she wished to sell, for a substantial sum. I seated her
in my office and looked her over. Her age was about thirty, a bit

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

759

run to seed; just short of blowsy. Still, she seemed respectable, if in
a dreadful state of nerves. She was not a local woman; she stated
that she had come directly from the space terminal and that she
desperately needed money. I looked her over once again, even more
carefully, but I could not place her background." Mayneth took a
meditative sip of beer. "I noticed one or two small points, still"
He shrugged, as if to dismiss the problem. "She began to work up
her proposition. She said she was able to offer an item not only
unique, but highly valuable. Not her exact words, of course. She
was so nervous as occasionally to be incoherent.

"I tried a bit of whimsyrather sophomoric, really'You've
brought me the directions to a cache of hidden treasure!'

"She became angry. 'Are you interested in what I have to offer?
Mind you, I want a fair price!'

"I told her that I'd have to see to Judge. Immediately she be-
came cautious. It was quite a game. Finally I said, 'Madam, show
me what you want to sell, otherwise I can't spare any more time.'

"She asked me in a whisper, 'Have you heard the name Howard
Alan Treesong?'

" 'Yes, indeed. He is Lord of the Overmen.'

" 'Don't say that! Although it's true ... I have his photograph.
How much will you pay?'

11 'Let's see the picture.'

" 'No, first you must make me a good offer!'

"I'm afraid I became a bit lofty. I asked her, 'How can I buy
something until I've seen it? Is it a good likeness?'

" 'Indeed, it's a good likeness. He is about to commit a mass
murder.'

"I said nothing and finally she produced her merchandise."
Mayneth indicated the photograph. "I examined it carefully, then
said, 'This is admittedly an excellent picture, but which is Tree-
song?'

" 'I don't know.'

" 'Then how do you know he's here?'

" 'I was told so, by someone who knew.'

" 'He might have been joking.'

" 'If so, he was killed for his joke.'

"'Really?'

" 'Yes, really.'

" 'May I inquire your name?'

760

THE DEMON PRINCES

" *Is it important? In any event, I won't give my proper name.'
" 'Where was the picture taken?'
" 'If I told you that, other people would suffer.'
" 'Madam, be practical. Consider the circumstances. You show
me a photograph; one of the persons, so you say, is Treesong, but

you can't point him out to me.'

" 'That proves I'm honest! I could easily point to anyone in the

photograph; that man there, for instance.'

" 'Quite true. As a matter of fact, he's my own choice. All this
aside, and conceding your own honesty, how do you know that the
picture is authentic? Someone has been killed. Who? Why? With-
out these details the picture has no particular value.'

"She thought a moment or two. 'Can you guarantee confiden-
tiality?'

" 'Naturally.'

" 'One of Treesong's aides is named Ervin Umps. His brother

was a waiter at the restaurant where the picture was taken. He was
also my husband. He spoke with Ervin, and discovered that Tree-
song was at the banquet. The photograph is automatic, for the
restaurant's records, and my husband took this copy, which he left
in my keeping. He told me only that Treesong was in the picture,
and that Treesong had murdered everyone else present. The pic-
ture, he said, was very valuable. That same night he was killed. I
knew that I'd be killed too, whether I gave up the photograph or
not, so I left at once, and that's all I can tell you.'

" 'And where is the restaurant?'

" 'I won't tell you. It's not necessary that you know.'

" 'I don't understand. You've told me everything else.'

" 'I have my reasons.'

"That's where the matter rested. We had a long discussion
about the price. I explained that I was taking her on trust; that the
photograph might not be worth a hollow dinket. She agreed but
wouldn't yield an inch. I asked, 'How much do you expect me to

pay?'

" 'I want ten thousand SVU!'
" 'That is out of the question.'

"'WTiat will you offer?'

"I told her I'd risk a hundred SVU of company money and fifty
of my own. She started to leave. I decided that I couldn't risk letting

THE BOOK OF DRR4MS 761

the picture get away. I offered another hundred and guaranteed that
if Cosmopolis used the picture she'd be paid two hundred more.

"She caved in. 'Give me the money. I must leave here at once.
The picture is dangerous.' I paid her off. She ran from the office
and I saw no more of her." Mayneth filled the goblets with Swal-
lowtail beer.

"What happened next?"

Mayneth cleared his throat. "I inspected the picture with great
care. I found few clues. The clothes are diverse, and suggest a va-
riety of backgrounds. They seem to be lightweight, which indicates
a warm local climate. Those little semaphoresI can't understand
them. Nor can I identify the food."

"You hinted at one or two details in connection with the
woman."

"So I did. Her clothes were standard, but she spoke with an
accent. Around the stars you'll hear a thousand accents and dialects.
It is one of my interests, and my ear is fairly keen. I listened care-
fully but I could not place her particular speech."

"What else?"

"At the corner of each eye she wore a little blue shell. I've seen
these before but I can't connect them with any particular place."

"She never mentioned her name?"

Mayneth pulled on his chin. "Her husband's brother is Ervin
Umps. She might or might not use the same name."

"Possible. Not necessarily probable."

"My own feeling. Still, I became curious and decided to make
inquiry at the spaceport, and I did so, although the trail by then
was three days cold. I checked passenger lists, asked questions, and
to make a long story short, I found no 'Umps.' She apparently
called herself Lamar Medrano. She transferred aboard the ship at
a place called Virgo Junction, out on Spica Six. I checked the place
in Universal Travel Routes. A dozen different liners touch there. I
doubt if she could be traced away from Virgo Junction."

"When did she leave New Concept?"

"Possibly never."

"How so?"

"She booked passage to Altair aboard a Green Star packet, the
Samarthi Tone, departing three days after her consultation with me.
I checked around the hotels and found her at Hotel Diomedes,

TUP DFMON PRINCES

762

where she had stayed two nights. They remembered her well, be-
cause she skipped without settling the bill."

"Odd."

"Sinister. I made further inquiries at the Diomedes, and learned
that she had become acquainted with a certain Emmaus Schahar, a
salesman in sports equipment from Krokinole. One morning Scha-
har paid his account and departed. Lamar Medrano went out the
previous night and never returned."

Gersen gave a dour grunt. "As to this Schahar, whsit of him7"

"A saturnine fellow, soft spoken, with plenty of money."

"He's not now in Starport?"

"He left on the Gacy Wonder. One of its way-points is Virgo
Junction."

"Interesting."

"Very much so. I don't know whether or not to be reassured."

"You wonder why Mr. Schahar did not call on you7"

"Exactly."

"Schahar might conceivably be an innocent salesman with only
ordinary interest in Lamar Medrano."

"Conceivably."

"Assuming that Schahar is not an innocent salesman, Lamar
Medrano might have become fearful and fled, so that she is now
hiding somewhere on New Concept."

"Possible."

"Thirdly, Lamar might have died before revealing where she
had taken the photograph. Perhaps she convinced Schahar that she
had put it in the mails."

"Possibly she had two copies of the photograph. Schahar con-
sidered his mission accomplished and is now pleased and happy."

Gersen laughed. "When Howard Treesong reads Cosniopohs,
sometime in the near future, Schahar will not be so pleased and
happy." He brought out stylus and paper, wrote a few words, placed
five hundred-SVU certificates on top, pushed all over to Mayneth.
"Your expenses and a bonus for constructive activity Please sign
the receipt so that I may recover from the central bursar."

"Thank you," said Mayneth "That is indeed generous of you.
Perhaps you will take lunch -with me7"

"It will be a pleasure."

Mayneth touched the gong, the white-haired girl appeared
Mayneth made signs and sounds, the girl slid off, easy and soft of

THE BOOK OF HRMMS

76-i

motion She returned with beer, paused to watch as Mavneth filled
the goblets, peering in fascination at the foam, her lavender-pink
tongue darting in and out of her mouth

"She loves beer," said Mayneth. "I won't allow her anv because
she becomes agitated. She'll lick all the foam from our empty gob-
lets."

Daringly the girl hooked some foam from Gersen's goblet with
her finger and put it into her mouth. Mayneth slapped her hand
without any great vehemence, and the girl (umped back like a play-
ful cat. She hissed at Mayneth, who hissed in return and gestured;

the girl departed. Passing through the door she bent to arrange a
tassel in the fringe of the rug, Gersen noted that under the short
white smock she was nude.

Mayneth sighed and swallowed half a goblet of beer. "I'll be
leaving New Concept before long. I came originally as a collector.
The original settlers created many beautiful things- hand-
illuminated books, grotesques, musical instruments. Notice that
gong yonder, it sounds to no more than a touch. The best are
supposed to sing even before they are touched. Some were ex-
ported, but the best were hidden in caves I've explored a thousand
miles of caverns, acquisitiveness conquering my claustrophobia."

Gersen leaned back in his chair and looked out across the tells
The sun stood at its zenith, across a low ridge in the middle distance
ran a pack of animals, gamboling and curvetting on long lank legs.
They darted into the shadow of a thicket and began to graze on a
growth of green sedge.

"This doesn't seem a particularly w^ll managed world," said
Gersen. "I don't see any signs of agriculture."

"It's been tried. The Feeks destroy crops before they get
started. There's no keeping them out short of poison, which is pro-
hibited."

"I noticed classical ruins out near the space terminal Do they
represent the 'New Concept'7"

"The original structures were the gift of a mad philanthropist.
The 'New Concept' was dietaryvegetarianism, in fact, mixed with
stints of meditation For fifty years the settlers lived in the great
Temple of Organic Unity. They ate alfalfa sprouts, collard greens,
and odd bits of the native vegetation. The human form is wonder-
fully adaptable. The settlers adapted all too well, and there they are
now"Mayneth pointed to the pack of lank animals gra/mg under

THE DEMON PRINCES

764

the thicket"having their lunch.. . . Speaking of lunch, we might
as well go examine our own."

Mayneth led Gersen to his dining room, where the white-
haired girl stood staring in fascination at the table. Sudden illumi-
nation came to Gersen. "She is one of the locals?"

Mayneth nodded. "They leave babies lying out on the fells.
Simple forgetfulness, I suspect. Sometimes they're brought in and
trained, more or less successfully. Catch them early and they'll learn
to stay clean and walk on their hind legs. Tiptoe here is a clever
one; she serves beer and fluffs pillows and generally behaves her-
self."

"She's fascinating to look at," said Gersen. "Is she, well, affec-
tionate?"

"It's been tried, with generally poor results," said Mayneth-
"Are you curious? Touch her."

"Where?"

"Well, to begin with, on the shoulder."

Gersen approached the girl, who swayed back, blinking her
great gray eyes. Gersen reached out his hand; she uttered a quick
spitting hiss and sprang back, mouth open to show sharp teeth,

hands raised and fingers curled.

Gersen drew back, grinning. "I see what you mean. Her opin-
ions are very definite."

"Some of the local lads use a bait of molasses candy," said May-
neth. "They like it and while they're eating they can't bite. . . .
Well, here's our lunch. She'll go away now, because she can't tol-
erate anything but lettuce and occasionally a bit of boiled carrot.
Such is the dark side of vegetarianism."

3

From Life, Volume I, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

... I often reflect upon the word "morality," the most
troublesome and confusing word of all.

There is no single or supreme morality; there are many,
each defining the mode by which a system of entities op-
timally interacts.

The eminent entomologist Fabre, observing a mantis in the
act of devouring its mate, exclaimed: "WTiat an abominable
custom!"

The ordinary man, during a day's time, may be obliged to
act by the terms of a half dozen different moralities. Some
of these acts, appropriate at one moment, may the next
moment be considered obscene or opprobrious in terms of
another morality.

The person who, let us say, expects generosity from a bank,
efficient flexibility from a government agency, open-
mindedness from a religious institution will be disap-
pointed. In each purview the notions represent immorality.
The poor fool might as quickly discover love among the
mantises.

Gersen, returning to Aloysius, landed at Dunes Spaceport a few
miles south of Pontefract. The time was late on a dark purple-gray
afternoon. Mist blowing in from Bottleglass Bay almost obscured

766 THE DEMON PRINCES

the terminal buildings. Gersen bowed his head and walked to the
depot across a boardway of weathered sea-wood.

He rode first by underground train, then by taxi to the mansion
ofJehan Addels, his financial adviser and general business factotum,
in Ballyholt Woods.

Addels greeted him with his usual air of sour disapproval, which
Gersen believed to be a mask for esteem and possibly even affec-
tion, though this might be asking a bit too much from Addels,
whose views of man and the universe were filtered through a life-
time of mistrustful cynicism. Addels looked the part, with a gaunt
yellowish face, a tall thin forehead, a long thin nose with a trem-
ulous tip. His hair was scanty and yellow-brown, his eyes a bland
pale blue.

Gersen went to his usual room, bathed, dressed in garments left
on a previous occasion. He dined with Addels and his numerous
family in a grand dining room, at a table illuminated by candles.
The tableware was antique silver and they ate off ancient Wedge-
wood.

After dinner the two men returned to Addels's yampang-pa.ne\ed
study and sat before a fire with coffee served from a silver coffeepot.

Gersen displayed the photograph, to Addels's consternation. "I
had hoped that you were finished with this sort of thing."

"Not quite," said Gersen. "What do you think?"

Addels feigned stupidity. "Regarding what?"

"We want to identify Treesong and discover where he makes
his headquarters."

"And then?"

"Perhaps we'll bring him to justice."

"Bah! And perhaps someone will get himself killed by being
hung on a hook a mile in the air, which was what happened to poor
Newton Flickery."

"A shame, that. Well, we must hope for the best."

"Therefore I hope that you will have nothing to do with this
business. Here, let me throw the photograph into the fire."

Gersen ignored him, and for the hundredth time studied the
photograph. "Which is Treesong? How can we identify him?"

Addels said crossly, "He's one often persons. The others must
know him, or at least know themselves. Treesong can be identified
by eliminating the others."

"First we must identify the others."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 767

"Why not? Each must have many friends and acquaintances.
But let us talk no more of this foolishness."

Gersen wandered the crooked old streets of Ponteftact. He sat in
small irregular squares, planted with boxwood and wallflowers. He
idled along valleys smelling of age and wet stone; he took several
meals at a restaurant suspended over Bottleglass Bay on rotten black

pilings.

He saw little of Addels except at the stately dinners which Ad-
dels considered a basic element of civilized existence. Addels refused
to discuss Gersen's preoccupation, and Gersen had only small in-
terest in the highly profitable dealings by which Addels augmented
Gersen's wealth.

On the fourth day Gersen settled upon a method to increase
the leverage of his single tool to the utmost. For several years the
Cosmopolis directorship had contemplated a companion magazine,
to be known as Extant. Much of the preliminary work had been
done. The new journal would rely heavily upon Cosm-opolis produc-
tion and distribution facilities, with an editorial policy intended to
appeal to a livelier and less sedate readership than that ofCosmopolis.

Through a linkage of holding companies, Gersen owned Cos-
mopolis outright. Now he ordained the instant existence of Extant.
Overnight it came into being. Copy long prepared entered printing
machines, and Extant surged out through the Cosmopolis distribution
adits to the far edges of the Oikumene.

To increase its impact on the market this first issue would be
given away free. It featured a remarkable contest, certain to attract
the attention of all its readers. A photograph on the cover depicted
ten persons at a banquet. The caption read:

WHO ARE THESE FOLK?
NAME THEM CORRECTLY AND WIN
100,000 SVU!

The inside cover added qualifying details. Only the first three
contestants to identify all the depicted faces would win prizes.
Should no one name all persons correctly, then those three persons
identifying the largest number of faces would receive the prize. Six
additional rules stipulated the prizes to those who were first, or
among the first, correctly to identify fewer than all the faces. Entries

THE DEMON PRINCES

768

were to be mailed to: Extant; Corrib Place, 9-11; Pontefract, Aloy-
sius (Vega VI). Such entries would be adjudicated by members of
the Extant staff.

Wherever periodicals were sold Extant impinged on the eye, the
more so for the prominent overprint on its cover: FREE.

At refuges on the frozen salt tundras of Irta; under the lime
trees of Duptis Major; at halts along the cableways of the Midor
Mountains; at kiosks along the grand boulevards of Paris and Oak-
land; on Alphanor, Chrysanthe, Olltphane and Krokinole, and every
other world of the Rigel Concourse: Extant. In spaceports, barber-
shops, jails, hospitals, monasteries, bordellos, construction camps:

Extant. Millions of eyes saw the faces, usually with only casual in-
terest. Not a few studied the photograph with care, and even fas-
cination, and took occasion to write letters to Contest Editor,
Extant. Two persons especially, separated by light-years of space,
saw the photograph with startled amazement. The first sat frowning
through his window as he pondered the significance of the contest.
The second, occasionally sounding a rather harsh chuckle, took pen
in hand and addressed a letter to Contest Editor, Extant.

Gersen decided to move into town, closer to the Extant office. Ad-
dels recommended the Penwipers Hotel. "It is convenient to your
office, and quite the best address in town, very respectable." His
gaze lingered thoughtfully upon Gersen's costume. "In fact..."

"In fact what?"

"Nothing whatever. You will be made comfortable at Penwip-
ers. They take good care of their guests. I will call to make arrange-
ments; they seldom accept new clientele without favorable
recommendation."

The facade of Penwipers Hotel, six stories of carved brownstone
and fluted black iron, surmounted by a Flemish mansard roof of
green copper tiles, overlooked Old Tara Square. An inconspicuous
portal opened into first a foyer, then a reception hall, with the
lounge to one side and the dining room to the other. Gersen reg-
istered at a counter of carved brown marble, supported by pilasters
and corner columns of glossy black gabbro. The receptionists wore
formal morning clothes of old-fashioned cuthow old-fashioned
Gersen did not immediately appreciate. The style, in fact, had

THE ROOK OF DRI^AMS

769

changed by not so much as a buttonhole since the hotel's opening
eleven hundred years before. At the Penwipers, and in Pontefract
generally, tradition yielded grudgingly, if at all, to novelty.

Gersen waited while the registration clerk quietly consulted the
head porter, the two glancing at Gersen from time to time. The
consultation ended; Gersen was conducted to his suite. The chief
porter led the way, an assistant carried Gersen's small handbag, a
third carried a velvet box. At the door the chief porter opened the
box, withdrew a damask cloth scented with lavender, with which he
briskly wiped the door handle, which he then twitched with thumb
and forefinger. The door opened; Gersen entered a set of high-
ceilinged rooms, famished in a style of austere comfort, something
short of luxury.

The porters moved swiftly around the room, adjusting the
placement of furniture, wiping surfaces with their scented cloths,
then departed, swiftly and quietly as if they had merged into the
shadows. The chief porter said: "Sir, the valet will attend you at
once to assist with your wardrobe. The water-is already drawn for
your bath." He bowed and prepared to leave.

"One moment," said Gersen. "Is there a key to the door?"

The chief porter smiled benignly. "Sir, you need not fear in-
trusion at Penwipers."

"Possibly not. But, for instance, suppose I were a jewel mer-
chant carrying a parcel of gems, and a thief wished to rob me. He
need merely saunter to my room, open the door, and divest me of
my wealth."

The chief porter, still smiling, shook his head. "Sir, such a ter-
rible thing could never happen here. It would simply not be tol-
erated. Your valuables are quite safe."

"1 don't carry any valuables," said Gersen. "I merely suggested
a possibility."

"The inconceivable, sir, is rarely possible."

"I am totally reassured," said Gersen. "Thank you."

"Thank you, sir." He drew back as Gersen extended his hand.
"The staff is adequately paid, sir. We prefer to accept no gratui-
ties." He inclined his head crisply and departed.

Gersen bathed in a sunken tub carved, like the reception desk,
from a block of brown marble. He emerged to find his belongings
packed neatly into a bottom drawer of an ancient wardrobe. The
valet, deeming his garments unsuitable, had laid out new: sedate

THE DEMON PRINCES

770

dark brown trousers, a lavender-and-white striped shirt, a cravat of
white linen crash, a knee-long coat of black twill, pinched at the
shoulders, belled at the hips.

In rueful resignation Gersen dressed in the new garments. If
nothing else, Jehan Addels would be pleased.

Gersen descended to the lobby and crossed to the main en-
trance. The chief porter stepped forward to intercept him. "A mo-
ment, sir, I will fetch your klapper." He tendered a large black
velvet hat with a wide rolled brim, a coil of dark green, and a small
stiff brush of black bristles. Gersen looked askance at the hat, and
would have slipped past had not the doorman contrived to position
himself between Gersen and the door. "You'll find the air a bit
brisk, sir. It is our pleasure to assist you in the use of appropriate
attire."

"That is kind of you," said Gersen.

"Thank you, sir. Allow me to arrange the hat. Just so ... Af-
ternoon wear will be laid out for your use at the stroke of the second
gong. The weather portends a drifting wet mist, with showers later
in the day."

In the foyer Gersen paused to glance at himself in the mirror.
Who was this somber exemplar of Old Pontefract gentility who
stared back at him? Never had he worn a disguise more deceptive.

Gersen wandered along the crabbed streets, under tall narrow-
fronted buildings, across the ubiquitous small squares, each with its
boxed beds of wallflowers, pansies, native bulrastia, and St. Olaf's
Toe. From time to time the mist parted to allow a shaft of Vega-
light down to glisten on wet stone and infuse a sudden gush of
color into the flower beds. At a public telephone he called Jehan
Addels and arranged a meeting at the Extant office, at Addels's
convenience.

"That will be in one hour's time," said Addels.

"I will be there."

Gersen turned into Corrib Place, a short street somewhat wider
than ordinary and paved with slabs of polished granite, dovetailed
each to each, and laid down long ago as an act of penance by the
Estebanite monks.

Corrib Place occupied the oldest part of Pontefract Old Town.
To one side the ancient Estebanite monastery had been converted
into commercial suites; the structures opposite, built of age-
darkened mace and ganthar wood, bound with brackets of black

THE BOOK OF DRIL4MS

iron, stood tall and gaunt and compressed, often with upper-story
bays overhanging the street.

With time to spare before his appointment with Addels, Gersen
sauntered along Corrib Place, looking into shops, which here af-
fected a special eclat and offered only goods of distinction and el-
egance: fancy pastries and imported sweetmeats; rare gems, pearls
from the local rorqual, crystals won from dead stars; gloves, cravats,
gaiters, kerchiefs; perfumes, philtres, magic Duhamel oil; bibelots,
curios, portfolios ot antique art: Giotto and Gosl-wane; William
Snyder and William Blake; Mucha, Dulac, Lindsay; Rackham, Niel-
sen; Durer, Dore, David Russell. Gersen paused ten minutes to
watch a pair of puppets at a game of chess. The puppets were Ma-
holibus and Cascadine, characters from the Comic Masque. Each
had captured several pieces; each in turn, after deliberation, made
his move. WTien one captured a piece, the other made gestures of
rage and agitation. Maholibus made a move and spoke in a creaking
voice: "Checkmate!" Cascadine cried out in anguish. He struck
himself on the forehead and toppled backward-off his chair. A mo-
ment later he picked himself up; the two arranged the pieces and
started a new game. . . .

Gersen entered the shop, bought the chess-player puppets, and
ordered them delivered to Penwipers: one of the rare occasions of
his life when he had encumbered himself with a trivial article.

Strolling along Corrib Place, Gersen found himself opposite the
offices of Extant Publications. He paused by the window of the
Horlogicon, to study a timepiece seemingly fashioned from puffs
and swirls of mist, with spots of colored light designating the time.
Interesting, but impractical, thought Gersen. .. .Jehan Addels
turned into Corrib Place and approached, placing his feet carefully
one before the other. The time was several minutes early. He
stopped beside Gersen to catch his breath and inspect the Extant
offices. After an incurious sidelong glance, he ignored Gersen and
continued peering toward the Extant offices.

Gersen spoke. "Sir, are you expecting someone?"

Addels swung around, stared in hemusement. "My dear fellow,
I failed to recognize you!"

Gersen smiled a wintry smile. "The hotel has allowed me the
use of these clothes. They feel that my ordinary attire is a bit too
ordinary."

Addels spoke in a precise voice. "A person makes a statement

THE DEMON PRINCES

772

about himself with his clothes A genteel person wears genteel
clothes to establish his status, and status, whether we like it or not,
is a key factor in human interrelations."

Gersen said, "At the very least I am provided an excellent dis-
guise "

Addels's voice rose a quick tone or two. "Why should you need
a disguise5"

"We are dealing, you and I, with a remarkable man He is a
ruthless murderer, but at the same time a paragon of gentility who
could lodge without qualm at Penwipers Hotel "

Addels gave a glum grimace. "You surely don't expect him

here?"

"I don't know what to expect. We are publishing his photo-
graph, which he has been at great pains to conceal "

"Please do not use the word 'we' so loosely But I agree that
the contest will attract his attention."

"That is part of my plan. He will wonder who is interested m
him and investigate "

Addels sniffed "Or he might simply decide to destroy the enure
building "

"I think not," said Gersen. "First, he will want to discover the

facts "

"He will try to infiltrate your organization It will be very dif-
ficult to forestall him."

"I won't even try In fact, I'll make it easy."

"Risky business' What good can come ofit7"

"His infiltration in effect becomes our infiltration We will lure
him close, then work to arrange a meeting. You will be the inter-
mediary"

"By no means' Never' Not in a million years'"

"I expect no danger until after he satisfies his curiosity "

Addels refused to be convinced "That is like telling a staked-
out goat that the tiger will not bite until after he sniffs around a
bit"

"I wonder if the parallel is quite exact "

"Regardless, I do not intend to participate in this scheme. I
have had my fill of scares and frights' My proper work lies else-
where."

"Just as you say We will make our plans accordingly "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

773

Addels was not \et reassured "When do you expect him to

-> K

act"

"As soon as he sees the photograph He will then send someone
here to investigate, or possibly he will arrive on the scene himself
We still have a few days to prepare "

"The lull before the storm," muttered Addels

Gersen laughed "Don't forget, we are laying the plans, not
Treesong. Come along, I'll take you to lunch at Penwipers, if you
think they'll allow you in the dining room "

On the door of the Extant offices appeared a sign

NOTICE TO THE PUBLIC
STAFF IS NOW BEING ENGAGED. TEMPORARY
HELP IS REQUIRED TO ASSIST WITH PHO-
TOGRAPH IDENTIFICATION CONTEST. IT IS
PREFERRED, BUT NOT ESSENTIAL, THAT AP-
PLICANTS MAKE APPOINTMENTS FOR AN IN-
TERVIEW.

An applicant, upon entering the Extant offices, found himself
in an anteroom divided by a counter 'I o the left was a door with
a notice reading

CONTEST PROCESSING ROOM
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

the door to the right was imprinted

EDITORIAL OFFICES

At the counter the applicant would be met by Mrs Millicent Ench,
a brisk, dark-haired lady of middle age, who invariably wore, day
after day, a long black skirt, a pale blue blouse with a red sash, a
cap with a red visor, glossy black shoes which laced up past the
ankles Mrs Ench performed a screening process, turning away
those applicants who were patently unsuitable Others she sent into
the adjoining room, where the\ filled out an application form, un-
der the eye of the personnel manager This was Mr Henry Lucas,
who, from the evidence of his clothes, fancied himself a patrician
of the most refined gentility His features were good if a trifle harsh,

774 THE DEMON PRINCES

his mouth was wide, thin, and crooked. Black ringlets were arranged
with care across his forehead and down past his sallow-pale cheeks.

After a casual word or two with the applicants, Henry Lucas
seated them in cubicles, back to the room, and asked them to re-
spond to a questionnaire. The cubicles and desks were apparently
improvised and roughly constructed for the occasion. Actually, they
concealed and disguised exceptionally sensitive sensors and stress
gauges which recorded every slight tremor of the applicant, each
flicker of his eye, every variation of blood pressure, every alteration
of brain-wave pattern. The findings, when collated, were indicated
as colored lights at Gersen's desk and colored marks upon a facsim-
ile of the questionnaire.

Gersen had composed the questionnaire with care, in order that
the responses and their associated reactions should provide the max-
imum information, even though the questions in themselves seemed
innocuous.

The first questions were straightforward, in order to establish
normal circumstances and to calibrate the equipment.

Name-
Type of Employment Desired
Local Address
Birthplace

Se?

Age-




Name of Parents: Father Addrp*;*,
Mnrhpr ArMrP'-'-
Occupation of Father Mother
Rirthnlapp of Father Morhpr

The next group of questions, so Gersen calculated, would place a
rather greater strain on other than a legitimate applicant.

How long at local address-


Local references (List at least two. These people may or may
not be consulted in regard to your character and competence.):

1.___________________________________

3.

Previous address, if any.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 775

List at least two persons who have known you at this address.
(They may be consulted.):

1.___________________________________

2.___________________________________

3.___________________________________

Your address previous to address noted above, if any:

List at least two persons who knew you at this address:

1.

2.

3.

NOTE: You will understand that, under the circumstances^ Extant
must diligently ensure the integrity of its personnel.

The following questions were intended to exert maximum stress
upon any person intending deception.

If nonresident, why have you come to Pontefract? (Give specific
reasons. Do not generalize.) 

Contest personnel must necessarily he impartial. Examine the photo-
graph here depicted, which is submitted to the contestants. Do you
know or recognize any of the persons herein? Write '0' in the boxes
of the persons you do NOT know. Fill in solidly the boxes of the persons
you DO know.

1    2    3    4    5    6    7    8    9    10

aaaDDnaoaa

(Read clockwise from bottom left center.)
What is his/her name, or their names?

(List names with corresponding numbers.)

THE DEMON PRINCES

776

What are the circumstances of your acquaintances? (Please be

specific.) ________________________________

If engaged, when can you start work?

In due course applicants for employment presented themselves
to the office: students from Saint Griegand's Seminary and the
Celtic Academy, and as many middle-aged women with time on
their hands. Gersen rigorously applied his sensors to each applicant,
in order to adjust the mechanism and to establish the accuracy of
his methods. Apart from a few fluctuations and trivial exceptions,
his system of colored imprints certified the innocence of each ap-
plicant. Of these, Mrs. Ench, who also supervised the Judging pro-
cedure, selected a group to process the beginning flood of entries.
Each envelope as it entered the office passed through a numerator
to establish the priority of its reception.

Gersen himself opened and examined a number of envelopes,
but found a wide disparity of response, lacking all consistency.

On the afternoon of an uncommonly sunny day Gersen re-
turned from lunch to encounter among the applicants a slim, slight
red-haired girl, in whom he took an immediate interest, for at least
two reasons. In the first place, she was very pretty in a style at the
edge of the unconventional. Her face, rather wide of forehead and
cheekbones, slanted across flat cheeks down to a small chin and a
curving pink mouth, which even when still seemed to express in-
triguing possibilities. Her gray-blue eyes, under dark lashes, were
clear and direct. She was perhaps a trifle smaller than average but
constructed of apparently durable material; she was engagingly sun-
tanned, as if she spent much of her time outdoors. She might have
been a student from one of the local institutions, but Gersen
thought not. He noticed her first through his window, standing
across the street, wearing pale gray trousers, black sash, and a pale
gray cape, not at all in the local mode. . .. She stood a moment
with a bleak expression on her face, then squared her shoulders,
crossed the street, out of range of Gersen's vision. A moment or
two later Mrs. Ench allowed her into Gersen's office.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

Gersen gave her a brief stare. The bleak expression had van-
ished; she now seemed composed, and here was the second reason
for Gersen's interest. There was a third rising from his subcon-
scious, and perhaps most important of all.

She spoke in a pleasant husky voice, with the trace of an accent
Gersen could not identify. "Sir, you are offering employment?"

"To qualified persons," said Gersen. "I suppose that you are
aware of the Extant contest?"

"I've heard something about it."

"We need temporary clerks to help with the contest, and we
are also hiring permanent personnel."

She considered his remarks. Gersen wondered whether her art-
lessness was real or most carefully contrived. He took care to ac-
centuate his half-debonair, half-supercilious formality. She offered
a polite suggestion. "Perhaps I could start as a contest clerk, and
then, if I do well, you might consider me for a permanent job."

"That is certainly possible. I'll ask you to fill in this form, which
is self-explanatory. Please answer all questions."

She glanced at the questionnaire and uttere'd a soft sound under
her breath. "So many questions?"

"We consider them necessary."

"Do you investigate all this for everyone you hire?"

Gersen spoke in a flat voice: "A great deal of money is involved
in the contest. We must ensure that our personnel is absolutely
honest."

"I quite understand." She took the form and went to the booth.

Gersen, pretending to occupy himself with paperwork, touched
a switch and watched a pair of desk screens, as the red-haired girl
filled in the questionnaire. To the left appeared her face, tu the
right the questionnaire and colored lights to indicate the verdict of
the stress detectors.

She had started to write.

Name: Alice Wroke
Sex: Female

The question as to gender and its response, certifying- a self-
evident condition, calibrated the instruments at base level. Con-
ceivably, as in the case of a man disguised as a woman, the question
might generate stress, thus distorting the interpretation of every
other reading. In addition to the colored-light indicators, a graph

778 THE DP;MON PRINCES

recorded responses in terms of absolute units; anomalous responses
might therefore be identified. In practice the color-coded indexes
had provided reliable information. Blue lights now signified that
Alice Wroke had truthfully declared her name and her gender; al-
though before she wrote her name, the light flickered into pink for
a moment, as if she were debating the use of a false name. The
warnings from his subconscious were apparently vindicated. Sur-
prising! He had hoped for Treesong to attempt infiltration of Ex-
tant, but that the infiltrator should be someone like Alice Wroke
was quite unexpected. Gersen felt a surge of primitive excitement.
The game had begun. With his own pulse accelerated, Gersen
watched Alice Wroke write responses to the questions he had
framed.

Age: 20'
A clear blue light: no dissimulation.

Type of Employment desired:

Here, Alice hesitated. The color, wavering from blue into blue-
green, indicated indecision rather than stress. She wrote:

Clerical or journalistic work. I am qualified for either.

As she wrote the final sentence the blue-green verged momen-
tarily into green, as if perhaps she were not as sure of her qualifi-
cations as she professed.. . . She still hesitated and the green
gradually became sharper and more acid. She added to her re-
sponse:

However, I am prepared to work in any capacity, and do
whatever is required of me.

As she considered the next question, the color shifted back to
blue-green, indicating a heightened state of consciousness.

1. By general convention, age and almost all other units of duration were reckoned by
terrestrial standards.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

779

Local address:

The color shifted not an iota. Alice wrote:

St. Diarmid's Inn.

This was a large cosmopolitan hotel at the heart of the city,
frequented by tourists and offworld travelers, considerably less pres-
tigious than Penwipers, but not without distinction and certainly
not inexpensive. Alice Wroke would seem to be in no immediate
need.

Birthplace: Blackford's Landing, Terranova, Denebola V.
Name of Parents:

Father: Benjamin Wroke

Address: Wild Isle

Occupation: Engineer

Mother: Eileen Sversen Wroke

Address: Wild Isle
Occupation: Accountant

These questions were negotiated without stress, except in re-
gard to Father's Occupation, where the light glowed yellow green.

Now commenced those questions which were intended to apply
pressure upon a dissembler.

Hoiv long at present address?

Alice had defused this question by identifying her residence as
a transient hotel. Still, the indicator shifted into the bright green
as she wrote:

Two days.
Local references: list at least two:

1. Mahibel W^roke

The Blawens, Gungold Street

2. Sean Paldester

Dingle Lane, Tuorna

780 THE DEMON PRINCES

On this response the indicator glowed placidly blue. The first
was evidently a relative, as might he the second who resided at
Tuorna, a nearby village.

Your previous address, if any:

The blue brightened to green, flashed momentarily into yellow.
Watching Alice's face, Gersen saw her compress her lips, then lean
forward with a determined expression; simultaneously the indicator
swung back through green toward blue. She wrote:

Wild Isle, Cvtherea Tempestre
The references were:

1. Jason Bone
Wild Isle

2. Jade Channifer
Wild Isle

To the next question, inquiring as to previous address, she re-
sponded without tension:

1012-792nd Avenue, Blackford's Landing, Terranova, De-
nebola V

As references she cited:

1. Dain Audenave
1692-753rd Avenue

2. Willow Tarras
1941-777th Avenue

The following questions were those designed to exert maximum
pressure.

If nonresident, u'hy have you come to Pontefract?

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 781

As Alice studied the question the indicator glowed yellow and
flickered into orange. Her tension diminished. . . . The indicator re-
turned to green. She wrote:

To secure employment.

Turning the page, Alice discovered the photograph of the con-
test, and the question:

Do you know or recognize any of the persons here depicted?

The indicator light glowed yellow, then orange. She deliberated
a moment and the color became yellow green. Presently she filled
in all the boxes with 0's. At box 6, the light glowed pink. She
quickly turned the page, to avoid looking at the photograph, and
her tension diminished slowly into green.

What is his or her name, or their names?

The light glowed vermilion. Alice answered the question with
a dash.

What are the circumstances of your acquaintance?
The light glowed red. Alice answered with a second dash.

If'engaged, when can you start work?

The light cooled quickly into green and greenish blue, as if in
relief.

At once.

The questionnaire now was complete. As Alice reread it, Ger-
sen watched her face. This slender red-haired girl was the instru-
ment of Howard Alan Treesong. Conceivably she knew him by
another name, and in this case she might or might not know his
reputation. In due course the truth would become known. ... Ger-
sen rose to his feet and sauntered across the room. She looked up
with an uncertain smile. "I've just finished."

782 FHP Dt'MON PRINCFS

Gersen glanced at the responses. "This looks to be in order.
.. . You're originally from Terranova, it appears."

"Yes. My family moved out into Virgo five years ago. My father
iswell, a consultant at Wild Isle. Have you ever been there?"

"No. I understand it's rather a different environment than
here." Gersen contrived to speak in a voice of tired disapproval.

Alice encompassed him with a glance, expressionless save for a
nicker of wonder. She responded without intonation. "Yes. It's a
kind of dreamland, not altogether real."

"Out of idle curiosity, why did you leave7"

Alice shrugged. "I wanted to travel, and see something of other
worlds."

"Do you intend to go back7"

"I hardly know. At the moment I'm only interested in working
for Extant. I've always wanted to be a journalist "

Gersen paced slowly back and forth, hands behind his back, a
figure of pompous elegance. lie spoke in a ponderous voice. "Allow
me a moment to consult Mrs. Ench. I'll find what positions are
open."

"Certainly, sir."

Gersen wandered through the contest room, where a dozen
clerks processed great stacks of contest envelopes. He checked the
computer readout. Thirteen persons already had identified number
seven as John Gray, and ten knew number five as Sabor Vidol:

identifications which might well be considered definite. The tall
gaunt man with the philosopher's forehead and the foxy ]aw was
known by a variety of names Bentley Strange, Fred Framp, Kynl
Kyster, Mr. Wharfish, Silas Sparkhammer, Arthur Artleby, Wilton
Freebus, a dozen more.

Gersen returned to his office. Alice Wroke had moved to a
chair close to his desk. Gersen halted to look at her, admiring the
pleasant accord between her orange-red curls and her dusky ivory-
tan skin. She smiled. "Why are you inspecting me so?"

Gersen spoke in his most pompous and nasal voice. "If nothing
else. Miss Wroke, you are indeed a most decorative bit of work.
Though I will ask, should you choose to enter our employment,
that you dress a bit more sedately."

"Then I am to be hired7"

"Tonight we will check your references, and I am sure that they

THE BOOK OF DRKWS 783

will reinforce my favorable opinion of you. I suggest that you report
for work tomorrow at the second gong."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Lucas." Alice's smile conveyed no
great emotion. If anything, she seemed strained and disheartened.
"Where will I be working?"

"At the moment Mrs. Ench is adequately staffed; however, I
need an assistant to manage the office when I am out. I believe that
you are well equipped to handle the job."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Alice rose to her feet. She turned
Gersen a glance over her shoulder, flirtatious, demure, puzzled, sad,
and apprehensive, in equal proportions.

She departed the office. Gersen looked after her. Curious, most

curious.

4

A former colleague recalls Howard Alan Treesong, then about
eighteen years old, when they worked at the Philadelphia factory
of the Elite Candy Company.

"He was restless and fluid and unpredictable, like a puddle
of quicksilver on a table, but I always got along well with
him. He seemed mild and rational. Certainly he was clever
and amusing, and he had an inclination for wild practical
Jokes. Sometimes he carried the mischief too farmuch too
far. One day he brought in a box of dead bugscock-
roaches, bumblebees, beetlesand carefully fixed up a box
of chocolate creams, each candy containing a big bug. He
put it out for shipment, and said to me with a faraway look
on his face: 'I wonder who will receive my little surprise.'

"But that wasn't what got him fired. There was a foolish
old lady named Fat Aggie who always wore high-topped
black shoes, which she took off when she sat down to work.
Howard stole the shoes and filled them to the brim with
peanut fondant in one and our Supreme Molasses Taffy
Delight in the other, then put them back under Aggie's
chair.

"That trick cost Howard his job. I never saw him
again."

In the morning Alice Wroke appeared at the Extant offices wear-
ing a skirt and jacket of a soft blue stuff which clung lovingly to
her slender haunches. A black ribbon confined her orange hair;

coming through the old black wood doorway she made an arresting

THE BOOK OF DRK-^MS 785

picture. She was intelligent enough to realize as much, so Gersen
felt assured. The costume was hardly as conservative as that which
he had suggested, but he decided to let the matter rest; he gained
nothing by exaggerating his role as a pompous frump. Alice Wroke,
who seemed not only intelligent but perceptive, might not be de-
ceived.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas," said Alice in a soft voice. "What
do you wish me to do?"

This morning the valet at Penwipers had laid out for Gersen
gray trousers with a lavender pinstripe, a black frock coat, pinched
at the shoulders, flaring at the hips, with a white high-collared shirt
and a black-and-lavender striped cravat, to which the chief porter
had added a black hat with a foppish side-slanting brim and a purple
ribbon. In the costume Gersen felt cramped and constricted; he
needed only to hunch his shoulders to split the coat down the back.
His discomfort and annoyance, together with the need to hold his
chin high over the stiff collar, imposed upon him a manner which
might easily be interpreted as priggish disdain for the commonalty
with whom he was forced to associate. Well, so be it, thought Ger-
sen. He said, in a voice to suit his costume: "Miss Wroke! I have
taken counsel with Mrs. Ench and temporarily at least you will be
assisting me, in the capacity of private secretary. I am discovering
more paperwork than I care to handle and, if I may say so, you add
a colorful accent to an otherwise drab office."

Alice Wroke gave a small involuntary grimace of annoyance,
which amused Gersen. A most peculiar situation. Alice Wroke, were
she intimately associated with Howard Alan Treesong, must be a
wicked woman indeed. Hard to believe . . . Gersen invented work
to keep Alice occupied, and went out to check the tabulations.

Incoming mail now filled a bin. Six clerks opened the entries,
examined the contents, entered the information into the rational-
izer. Gersen went to the readout screen at the end of the room,
which only he and Mrs. Ench were allowed to use. He touched a
button to call up the tabulations to date.

Nineteen persons now had identified number 7 as John Gray,
of Four Winds, on Alphanor; his identity might be regarded as
certain. The same could be said for number 5, Sabor Vidol, of
London, Earth; number 1, Sharrod Yest, of Nova Bactria; and num-
ber 9, A. Gieselman, of Long Parade, Espandencia, Algenib IX.
Number 6 was known far and wide across the Oilumene by a variety

786 THE DE.MON PRINCP;S

of names: Kyril Kyster, Timothy Trimmons, Bentley Strange, Fred
Framp, Silas Sparkhammer, Wilson WTiarfish, Oberon. Number 4
was named twice as lan Bilfred, of the Pallas Technical Institute,
at Pallas, Alcyone.

Gersen returned to his office, remembering, as he passed
through the door, to reassume the role of Henry Lucas.

During his absence, Alice had reconsidered her tactics. Now,
the better to manipulate this overdressed dunderhead, she thought
to try breezy affability, perhaps even a bit of flirtation. Good
enough, thought Gersen. Why not?

"I wonder if I have read any of your articles, Mr. Lucas. Your
name is very familiar."

"Possibly, Miss Wroke, quite possibly."

"Do you have special subjects you write about?"

"Crime. Vice. Dreadful deeds."

Alice looked at him askance. "Really?"

Gersen realized that for an instant he had let his mask slip. He
made an airy gesture. "Someone must write such things. How else
is the public to know?"

"But you hardly seem the sort to be interested in such things."

"Oh? What topics would you consider appropriate for me?"

Again Alice turned him a glance of wary speculation. "Civilized
things," she said brightly. "The best restaurants, for instance. Or
the wines of Earth. Or Lily Milk,' or Si Shi Shim dancing."

Gersen gave his head a sad shake. "Those aren't my subjects.
What of yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not expert at anything."

"This Si Shi Shim dancing, how does it go?"

"Wellone needs the proper music. Gongs, water flutes, a kur-
daitsythat's a rather repulsive trained beast which squeals when
its tail is pulled. The costumes are mostly feather anklets, but nei-
ther the dancers nor the audience seem to mind. Actually, I can't
do it well, if at all."

"Oh, come, I'm sure you're over-modest. How does it go?"

"Please, Mr. Lucas. Suppose someone looked into the office
and saw me gyrating about, what would they think?"

"Quite right," said Gersen. "We must set an example of de-

l, A precious ceramic ware, produced along the Susimara Islands of Yellow Sun Planer.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 787

corum. At least during working hours. Where are you staying
now?"

"I'm still at St. Diarmid's." Alice Wroke's response was
guarded and cool.

"You're here alone? That is to say, you have no local friends
or relatives?"

"I am quite alone, Mr. Lucas. W^hy do you ask?"

"Simple curiosity, Miss Wroke. I hope that you are not of-
fended?"

Alice gave a tolerant shrug, returned to the work which Gersen,
at some effort, had contrived for her.

At noon a caterer's van arrived at the premises. Lunch was
served to Mrs. Ench and her clerks in a small refectory; to Gersen
and Alice Wroke in Gersen's office.

Alice expressed surprise at the arrangements. "Why don't we
all eat together? I'm curious as to how the contest is going."

Gersen gave his head a magisterial shake. "That is not possible.
My superiors have stipulated maximum security, especially in view
of the rumor."

"Rumor? W^hat rumor is that?"

"A notorious criminal has interested himself in the contest:

that's the rumor. Personally I am skeptical. Still, who knows? We've
even arranged sleeping accommodations here for our clerks. They
won't leave the premises until after a winner is declared."

"It seems a bit exaggerated," said Alice. "Who is the notorious
criminal?"

"It's absolute rubbish," declared Gersen loftily. "I refuse to dis-
seminate such nonsense!"

Alice became haughty. "I'm really not interested." And during
the lunch she retreated into herself, from time to time darting
opaque glances toward Gersen.

After lunch Gersen invented more work for Alice, then carefully
set the slant-brimmed hat on his head. "I'll be gone an hour or so."

"Very well, Mr. Lucas."

Gersen went to the Penwipers Hotel. From his room he called
St. Diarmid's Inn. "Miss Alice W^roke, please."

After a pause the receptionist replied: "Miss W^roke is not cur-
rently in the hotel, sir."

"I believe she's in room 262?"

"No, sir, it's room 441."

788 FHE DEMON PRINCFS

"Is any other member of her party in the room7"

"She's alone, sir Will you leave a message^"

"No, it's nothing important "

"Thank you, sir "

Gersen assembled various articles of gear, packed them in a
case To forestall difficulty at the front desk, he changed into af-
ternoon wear, then departed the hotel

At this time of day, afternoon tea break, the dank old streets of
Pontefract were crowded with men in flare-bottomed brown and
black suits and buxom pink-faced women in voluminous patterned
skirts and black capes. Gersen soon arrived at St Diarmid's Inn
He entered and surveyed the lobby, but saw nothing he could con-
sider consequential

He approached the registration counter and pretended to make
calculations on a sheet of paper. The clerk watched a moment, then
approached "Sir, may I oblige you3"

Gersen wrote several numbers on his paper while the clerk
watched in perplexity "I need a room for several days or a week,
during the Numerologists Congress Mathematical vibrations in-
dicate number 441, and I will engage this room." Gersen placed an
SVU on the counter, and the clerk hastened to consult a readout
screen

"A pity, sir' That room is already engaged "

"Then I must have either 440 or 442 "

"I can oblige you with room 442, sir "

"It will serve adequately I am Aldo Bnse "

Established in room 442, Gersen went to the wall and placed a
microphone against the paneling. From 441 came no sound

In the corner he dropped to his knees, drilled a minute hole,
and inserted a near-invisible audio pickup He attached a recorder,
which then he coupled to the telephone He placed the recorder in
a drawer, opened the circuit, made tests, and departed

Returning to his office he entered, stalked across the room,
carefully doffed his hat, placed it on a shelf Then he favored Alice
with a stately nod, to which she returned a demure murmur and a
quiet side-glance from under her long dark lashes Gersen settled
himself at his desk with a grunt, sat frowning into space for five
minutes, as if deep m thought Then he rose to his feet, went out
into the passage, and so to the workroom

The clerks were at the full tide of work Gersen looked over

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 789

the current listing at the rationalizer Identification of all the sub-
)ects could now be considered complete, save for number 6, who
was known by a variety of names As yet no one had used the name
Howard Alan Treesong

Gersen went back to his office Alice looked up from her desk
"How goes the contest3"

"Extremely well, from a promotional standpoint Response ex-
ceeds our pro)ection by seventeen percent "

"But no one has won the grand prize3"

"Not yet "

"Why did you use that particular photograph3"

Gersen went to his desk and seated himself with the gravity of
a judge He spoke m his nasal voice: "I have never thought it ap-
propriate to ask "

Alice pulled in the corners of her mouth but said nothing

After a moment Gersen put the tips of his fingers together. tt!
think that I can inform you, in absolute confidence, of course, that
all our sub)ects except one have been correctly identified "

Alice gave an indifferent shrug "I'm not all that interested, Mr.
Lucas."

"Come now," said Gersen, heavily facetious, "let's not have our
noses out of joint I believe you mentioned that your home is Cyth-
erea Tempestre3"

"For several years now, yes "

"I understand that people conduct themselves most informally
on Cytherea "

Alice considered "I'm not sure I know what you mean by 'in-
formally.' "

"Isn't there oftenlet us saya bit ofexcess3"

"Yes, that's occasionally true Tourists often misbehave when
they're away from home Some of the worst offenders are from
Pontefract "

Gersen laughed Alice, watching him sidelong, thought The id-
iot iv human after all

"Have you ever visited the Wild Isle casinos5 I'm told people
gamble away vast sums of money "

"They can hardly expect to win "

Gersen said with plangent severity. "The money they lose lines
the pockets of notorious criminals "

"So I've heard," said Alice. "My father lines his pockets, so to

790 'IHF DP\U)N PRINCTS

speak, at the casinos, but I don't think that he is a notorious crim-
inal."

"I should hope not. Is he a gambler?"

"To the contrary. He designs gambling machines and adjusts
them so that they fleece the gamblers. He finds his work entertain-
ing. I've heard him say that he lacks all sympathy for gamblers. He
considers them self-indulgent, foolish, and lazy, if not psychotic."
Alice inspected Gersen with an innocent expression "1 hope that
you're not a gambler, Mr. Lucas. I wouldn't care to hurt your feel-
ings."

"Rest easy, Miss Wroke. I am neither vulnerable to casual dep-
recation nor a gambler."

"In regard to the contest, which one has not yet been properly
identified5"

Gersen said evenly: "Number six."

"When will the contest be over^"

"I don't know." Gersen looked at his watch. "I have no further
work for you today, Miss Wroke. You may leave at any time."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Alice slipped on her )acket and went
to the door. She paused and gave Gersen a tentative smile. "Will
there be anything more tonight, Mr. Lucas?"

"No, thank you, Miss Wroke. I'll see you in the morning."

Alice departed. Gersen went out into the contest room and
stood watching the operatives. Then he returned to his office, re-
moved his coat, and subjected walls, windows, floor, ceiling, and all
the contents of the room to a slow and expert inspection. Had the
need arisen, he could have carried detection devices to measure the
quiver of energy flux, but the process might well attract attention
to his vigilance. High in a corner of the ceiling he noticed a few
strands of web, which might have been spun by a spider, something
the eye would slide away from, unheeding.

After five minutes of scrutiny he decided that the web indeed
was the work of a spider and brushed it away.

He sat in his chair, collar open, cravat loose, and reflected. The
time was now late afternoon. Gersen went out into the workroom
to find that the evening shift had come on duty He watched a
moment, then, adjusting his garments for the street, departed the
office and strolled through cool evening mist to Penwipers.

The doorman acknowledged his arrival with a grave bow; the

THE BOOK OF DRE.1MS 791

footman hurried forward to take his hat and to assist him up the
stairs, as if he were a centenarian.

Gersen went up to his rooms. He removed his coat and seated
himself at the telephone. .. . He hesitated, hand in midair. He gave
a snort of sour mirth. Eavesdrop devices at Penwipers5 Unthink-
able'

To make absolutely sureafter all, the doors were innocent of
lockshe tested the premises with his detector, the specifications
of which he himself laid down.

The room was clean of spy cells.

Gersen went to the telephone and called room 442 at St. Diar-
mid's Inn.

"Mr. Bnse is not in," stated his answering device. "Please leave
a message."

Gersen spoke a code word to activate the recorder. A musical
tone notified him that material had been recorded and announced
the time of the reception: only half an hour previously.

The first sound was Alice's voice. "Mr. Albert Strand, please."

"Thank you, madam." An institutional voice, thought Gersen.
A moment later: "Hullo Alice'"

"Hello, Mr. Sparkhammer. I"

"Tish, Alice' Also tush! Remember, here I am the gentleman
Albert Strand of the Wambs County Strands."

"Sorry. Does it make any difference?"

"WTio knows?" The voice was airy. "We are dealing with clever
people. Not that we can't deal with them, but let us nurture our
advantages. Boldness, power, stealth, decision' Let these be our
watchwords'"

"Don't forget fear," said Alice in a soft, bitter voice.

"And of course, fear' So then, what have you learned?" This
was a rich voice, under exquisite lilting control. Gersen listened
with rapt attention.

Alice responded in a voice almost without expression. "This
morning, when I arrived at work, Mr. Lucas told me I ^vas to be
his private secretary."

"Oh, dear me. I had not reckoned upon that. So then, what of
Mr. Lucas?"

"He is careful about securityextremely so. 1 am not allowed
into the contest room Today I tried twice while he was out, but
Mrs. Ench turned me away. I asked Mr. Lucas how the contest was

792 'I HP DP MON PRINCES

going and he became insufferably pompous He said that everyone
in the picture had been identified except onenumber six. No one
as yet has come near winning the prize."

"And that is all'-"

"I'm afraid so. Mr. Lucas says very little. He's a silly over-
dressed fool but rather a cunning fool, if you gather my meaning."

"Perfectly. Still, it seems that he is not impervious to your
rather remarkable charms."

"WellI'm not sure "

"Well then, find out' We can't waste time. I have important
commitments in the near future."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Strand." Alice hesitated, then said: "Ac-
tually, you've never explained exactly what you want me to find
out."

"Haven't 1, though7" Mr. Strand's voice became briefly acrid
and venomous. "Find out why they are using this specific picture'
When and where did they get it? There's something going on,
something in back of this contest, and I want to know what."

The conversation ended.

On the following day Alice made her second report. "Mr. Strand?"

"I am here, Alice."

"I don't have much to tell you. Today was much like yesterday.
I tried to talk about the contest but Mr. Lucas won't answer my
questions. He just sits and looks down his nose at me."

"Time is becoming critical, Alice " Mr. Strand spoke in a harsh
hissing voice, curiously at odds with his mellifluous tones of the day
before. "I want results. You know the circumstances "

Alice's voice became dull. "I'll try again tomorrow "

"You had better try something effective."

"But I can't think of anything. He is totally secretive'"

"Take him to bed. It's hard to be secretive without any clothes
on."

"Mr. SparkhammerI mean Mr StrandI can't behave like
that' I wouldn't know how'"

"Tush, Alice, everyone knows how'" Mr Strand chuckled and
his voice lost its menacing rasp, rising in pitch to become gay,
quick, and almost brittle in quality. "If you must, you canand
indeed you must'"

"Mr Strand, really, I don't"

THE BOOK OF DREA W.S 793

"Alice, you make such an affair of it all' It's most simple. You
smile at him, he takes you to dinner. One thing leads to another,
and presently you find yourselves without your clothes Mr. Lucas
is panting like a beached haddock. You start to snivel. 'My dear
Alice!' cries Mr. Lucas. 'Why, at this ecstatic moment, all these
tears3'

" 'Because, Mr. Lucas, I am sad and afraid. You are only trifling
with me, isn't it true?'

" 'Not so, Alice' I am ardent; can't you tell? The thought of
your orange curls on that white pillow yonder sets me aquiver' Feel
my pulse' Trifling5 Never! I am deadly in earnest!'

" 'But you treat me like an outsider' WTly can't you truly dem-
onstrate your regard for me?'

" 'I am ready and anxious to do so''

" 'Not in that fashion. I want your full trust and esteem. For
instance, when I show a natural interest in office affairs, such as the
contest, you turn away your head. This is why I am sad.'

" 'Hrrumph, harraI wouldn't want so petty a matter to come
between us. Tomorrow at the office'

" 'No, Henry, you might become cold again. You must tell me
now, to prove your faith.'

" 'Well, it's really a simple matter.' And soout come all the
secrets, in a great vulgar belch. In the morning, tired but happy,
you communicate what you have learned to me, and all will be well.
Otherwise"here Mr. Strand paused"otherwise," and his voice
dropped half an octave, "I can offer no such assurance."

"I see."

"You can handle the job7"

"I suppose so."

"Remember, time is of the essence, as I have a commitment
which cannot be disrupted: a gathering of old school chums, in fact.
So please put your best efforts into this project, in the manner
which I have outlined. After all, you were brought here to Ponte-
fract for precisely this function."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Strand."

"Your best, I'm sure, will be adequate."

The conversation ended; there was silence in the room

From- Fauna of the Vegan Worlds, Volume III-
The Fish ofAloysius, by Rapunzel K. Funk:

Gaid, also known as the night-tram- this is a splendid
fish of a lustrous black color, often reaching a length of
twenty feet The body is exceptionally well shaped, with an
almost round cross section. The head is large and blunt
with a single visual bulb, an aural pod, and a wide mouth,
which when open displays an impressive dentition. Imme-
diately behind the head and almost to the tail grows a row
of dorsal spines, to the number of fifty-one, each tipped
with a lummophor which at night emits a bright blue light.

By day the gaid swims beneath the surface, where it
feeds upon wracken, borse, and similar creatures. At sun-
down the night-train rises to the surface and cruises steadily
with all lights aglow

The pelagic voyages of the night-train remain a mys-
tery; the fish peregrinates on a direct course, as if to a spec-
ified destination. This may be a cape or an island or perhaps
an unmarked station in the middle of the ocean. Upon
reaching its destination, the night-tram halts, floats quietly
for half an hour, as if discharging cargo, or taking on pas-
sengers, or awaiting orders; then it swings about with ma-
jestic and ponderous deliberation. It hears a signal and sets
off once more to its next destination, which well may be
five thousand miles distant

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 795

To come upon this noble fish by night, as it cleaves the
black waters of the Aloysian oceans, is a stirring experience
indeed

Gersen felt restless, on edge. He went out into the evening and
wandered the crooked streets of Pontefract.

Somewhat to his surprise he found himself at St. Diarmid's Inn.
He halted and looked along what was by Pontefract standards a
garish facade, of pale blue and purple tiles. Gersen moved on, across
Mullawney Square into Portee Old Town, a tawdry district of tav-
erns, odd shops, artists' studios, fned-fish booths, and discreet
brothels, each showing an illuminated green-glass globe, in accor-
dance with ancient law. Presently he arrived at the waterfront.

He stood looking across Bottleglass Bay, to the far lights of
Port Rufus. A breeze brought him the smell of the Aloysian mud-
flats. Gersen had stood beside many shores, on many worlds. No
two had smelled alike. ... At the end of a nearby pier a string of
colored lights festooned the front of a restaurant. Gersen walked
out on the pier, looked into the restaurant, which seemed cheerful
and clean, with red-checkered cloths on the tables. The name of
the restaurant was Murdock's Bay View Grill.

Gersen entered and dined upon the house specialties, which
were in the main derived from the ocean Aloysian cooking tended
to blandness; Murdock, however, seemed to have no fear of sharp
herbs and piquant sauces. . .. Gersen sat a long time looking out
the windows toward the lights of Port Rums and listening to the
mutter of slow waves on the ancient piles below.

It seemed that as time went bv Gersen found himself ever more
susceptible to strange moods, to which no name could be applied.
In the early years his emotions focused along a single axis: hate,
grief, revengeful lust. He had been humorless, clenched, passionate
only in his dedication. Now there were numerous axes, in many
directions. Was the intensity thereby diluted^ A profitless line of
inquiry.. . His strategies, so he reflected, were at least partially ef-
fective. Howard Alan Treesong had been lured into tantalizing
proximity, conceivably in Pontefract itself Possibly at this instant
he strolled the cramped old streets, or took his ease in one of the
formal hotels, where now he sat thinking dire thoughts, contriving
plans.

796 FHE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen looked around the restaurant. Somewhere Howard
Treesong might be at his evening repast... . Among the patrons of
Murdock's Bay View Grill there was no tall spare man with a phi-
losopher's forehead and a cunning foxy )aw. Treesong was else-
where.

Gersen went to the telephone, called the Penwipers Hotel.

"Henry Lucas here. Has my friend Mr. Strand registered? . . .
No7 What about Mr. Sparkhammer^ . . . No one of that name ei-
ther^ . . . Then do me a service, if you please. With discretiondo
not mention my nametry to find where Mr. Strand and Mr.
Sparkhammer are staying."

"I'll do my best, sir."

Gersen returned to his table. Small chance of locating Treesong
so easily He must be teased, baited, and tricked, and Alice Wroke
must necessarily be the intermediary. It would be a fascinating
game, mused Gersen, especially since Alice thought him pompous,
stuffy, vain, overdressed, and silly.

Gersen departed the restaurant and returned to Penwipers. The
desk clerk, as expected, had been unable to locate either Mr. Strand
or Mr. Sparkhammer. Gersen assured him that the affair was of no
consequence and went to his room.

No one had passed through the door since his departure, the
telltale he had installed was still in place.

In the morning the valet outdid himself and dressed Gersen m a
costume so splendid that even the doorman stared in admiration.
Gersen arrived at the Extant offices to find Alice Wroke already at
her desk. Gersen gave her a civil greeting, to which she replied in
kind. Today she wore a knee-length skirt of a dark brown stuff and
an ash-beige singlet, which suited her coloring to perfection. The
costume showed her slender figure to advantage; her orange hair
had been brushed till it shone. Sitting at his desk, Gersen pre-
tended to ignore her presence. Several times, glancing across the
room, he found her eyes upon him, pondering, appraising, won-
dering.

Gersen went out into the contest workroom. Mrs. Ench
brought him a letter. "A near winner, Mr. Lucas' Perhaps even a
winner! And how very strange it all is'"

Gersen read the letter:

THE BOOK OP /WXVf.S 797

Contest Manager, Extant
Ponterract, Aloysius

Sirs.

1 can identify the persons in your photograph. It was
my duty to attend them at the terrible event which cost
them their lives This photograph was taken in the Rain-
flower Room at Wild Isle Inn. They are about to sup on
the charnay which unaccountably poisoned them all, save
only Mr. Sparkhammer. The names of those at the table
are, reading from left to right

Sharrod Yest

Dianthe de Trembuscule

Beatrice Utz

Robun Martiletto

Sabor Vidol

Stanley Sparkhammer

John Gray

The men standing are

lan Bilfred
A. Gleselman
Artemus Gadouth

I know their names from the place cards which I myself
prepared Two other men were present. Neither of them
ate charnay and so both survived. The picture, incidentally,
is customarily made m order to record the sign of the chef
who prepared each serving of charnay. The signs are the
little colored signal posts of each place. In this case the
wonder persists, as several chefs prepared the charnay. Poi-
son was evidently transmitted by a tainted utensil.

I trust that I have satisfied the conditions of your contest
and will win the prize.

Cletus Parsrval

Wild Isle Inn

W^ild Isle, Cyntherea Tempestre

"Most interesting," said Gersen. "The letter is evidently gen-
uine "

798 THE DEMON PRINCES

"So it seems to me." Mrs. Ench turned Gersen a curious glance.
"Did you know what this Parsival fellow tells usthat these men
died of poison?"

"I am as surprised as you. But it won't hurt Extant^s circula-
tion."

"Why would anyone eat this charnay if it is known to be poi-
son? Very strange goings-on!"

"Exactly so, Mrs. Ench."

"Well, this Mr. Parsival seems to have the names correctly,"
said Mrs. Ench.

"All except number six. Sparkhammer is not his proper name."

"Hmmf," said Mrs. Ench. "That number six is a will-o'-the-
wisp in the matter of identity."

"Yes, he seems a strange case."

"I'd be inclined to name Mr. Parsival the winner and let be,"
said Mrs. Ench. "Surely no one has given us so long a list."

"I'm inclined to agree," said Gersen. "But still we'll have to
wait out the rest of the contest. How is the mail?"

"About the same. Perhaps slacking a trifle."

"Very well, Mrs. Ench, keep up the good work. And ask your
people to be most attentive in regard to mention of number six."

"I will do so, Mr. Lucas." Unlike Alice Wroke, Mrs. Rnch
considered Gersen a polite and gracious gentleman, "without any
side to him," as she put it to her sister.

Gersen returned with the letter to his office.

Alice asked brightly, "Do you have exciting news?"

Gersen ponderously settled himself at his desk. Alice waited,
her face frozen in a mask of cheerful expectancy.

Gersen spoke in his most nasal and affected drawl. "As a matter
of fact, we have a letter identifying all our faces."

"Correctly?"

"He claims to have inscribed the place names at the banquet."

"Then the names would seem to be correct."

"Not necessarily. There is one very dubious identification."

"Oh? Which one?"

Gersen darted her a stern glance. "I'm not sure that it's proper
for me to comment upon these matters, Alice. Not just yet, any-
way."

Alice's face fell. She gave a small grimace. Gersen, watching
surreptitiously, thought: No'w she considers ho'w best to arrange her
begiiilements.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 799

Alice Jumped to her feet, went to the commode, where she
poured two cups of tea. She placed one of these before Gersen,
took the other to her own desk, where she poised herself, half-
leaning, half-sitting. "Have you always lived here in Pontefract, Mr.
Lucas?"

"I have traveled, of course, to many places."

Alice sighed. "Pontefract seems so impersonal, even a bit dreary
after five years at Wild Isle."

Gersen proffered no sympathy. "I can't understand why you
came here in the first place."

Alice gave a dainty shrug. "A dozen reasons. Wanderlust. Rest-
lessness. Have you ever visited Cytherea?"

"Never. I'm told that it's a most hedonistic environment, and
that the residents live very unconventional lives."

Alice laughed and turned Gersen a saucy side-glance. "In some
cases that's true. But not all. At Wild Isle you'll find every range
oflifestyle. My mother is almost as conventional as you."

Gersen raised his black eyebrows. "What? You consider me
conventional?"

"Yes, to some extent."

"Aha." Gersen gave a scornful grunt, as if to imply that Alice's
opinions were callow and superficial. "Tell me more about Wild
Isle. Is it true that criminals manage the casinos?"

"That is a considerable exaggeration," said Alice. "My father is
not a criminal."

"But no one ever wins."

"Naturally not."

"Do you ever go into the casinos?"

"No. It's not at all amusing."

"Wild Isle is a city?"

"It's more like a tourist resort: casinos, hotels, restaurants, yacht
harbors, beaches, and lots of little villas in the hills. It's no longer
wild, of course."

"Have you ever visited a charnay restaurant?"

Alice turned him a look of wary perplexity. "No."

"What is charnay like?"

"W^ell, it's a purple fruit with rough skin. Inside, tubes full of
poison run along the husk. The fruit itself is said to be delicious,
but I've never tried it. I don't want to die. And it's fearfully expen-


sive.

800 THE DKMON PRINCES

Gersen leaned back in his chair. "We've received a suggestion
that our contest photograph depicts a charnay banquet."

Alice picked up a copy of the photograph and examined it. "Yes
. . . That might well be true."

"Very strange! You might have passed some of these people in
the street."

Alice's response was cool. "Possible. But not likely. Thousands
of transients pass through Wild Isle. And there's no indication when
the picture was taken; it might be ten years old."

"It's a recent picture. Everyone has been identified, and we're
now into authentication."

"So someone has won the contest?"

"I made no such statement."

Alice asked ingenuously: "How did you come by the picture?"

"I rescued it from the trash can, as a matter of fact. But I
mustn't gossip about the contest; all results are not yet in. W^hy
don't you take the rest of the day off, Alice? I'll be busy away from
the office."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas. I don't quite know what to do with
myself. I'm acquainted with no one in town but yourselfand
you're so remote."

"WTiat nonsense!" declared Gersen. "You can't really think

i <

so

"But I do! Perhaps you don't think it proper to have social
contacts with the staff. Is that company policy?"

"I'm sure there's no such rule."

"Do you think I'm dowdy and plain?"

"To the contrary," said Gersen in all sincerity. "I consider you
most engaging. Extraordinarily so. I'm sorry that you find Ponte-
fract so dreary. Perhaps we might have supper together sometime."

Alice's lips trembled. A smile? A grimace? In a demure voice
she said, "That would be nice. WTiy not tonight?"

"WTiy not indeed? . . . Let me see. Where are you staying?"

"St. Diarmid's Inn."

"I'll meet you in the lobby, at Median."

"I feel much better already, Mr. Lucas."

In Praise of Charnay!

Of all the good things to be had in this bountiful universe,
there is nothing to exceed a fine ripe charnay, except two
or three more of the same.

from Gustations, by Michael Wiest

If one must dieand this seems to be the general fate
why perform the act in mean and vulgar style? Rather, die
splendidly, in a manner all will envy, engorged with char-
nay.

Gillian Seal, chef, musician, and bon vivant

Believe or disbelieve as you will, but a safe, salubrious, and
nonpoisonous charnay could easily be developed, grown,
and harvested. But every effort in this direction has been
thwarted by the Charnay Growers Association, nor is there
any great public clamor for such a development. Is it pos-
sible that the admittedly fine flavor of charnay is enhanced
by the presence of awful danger?

Leon Wolke, journalist, writing for
Cosm-opolis,

who, two weeks after publication of his article,
ate improperly prepared charnay and died

St. Diarmid's Inn had passed through the hands of various owners.
Each had contributed original ideas to the decor, eventually pro-
ducing an effect of considerable novelty. The lobby occupied the

802 THE DEMON PRINCES

entire ground floor. Heavy columns, decorated in ancient Cretan
style, supported the ceiling, which was patterned in lavender and
pink. Beside each column Rhodanthus palms, in terra-cotta pots,
grew to the ceiling, where the bare boles terminated in balls of dark
green foliage. By Vegan standards the decor was garish. The move-
ment of many folk, in costumes from every corner of the Oileu-
mene, added life and drama to the hectic and vaguely disheveled
atmosphere which characterized St. Diarmid's.

Gersen arrived punctiliously on time, wearing what the valet
had considered appropriate for an informal evening on the town:

skintight black trousers, a shirt vertically striped in black, dark gray
and light gray, with a high black neckband in lieu of a cravat. The
black jacket, responsive to the dictates of high Pontefract style, was
cut away in front, cramped at the shoulders, and almost bell-shaped
around the hips. Gersen had refused a plumed hat, and the valet
somewhat sulkily had allowed him the use of a soft, square black
cap. With his harsh saturnine face, black curls, and pallid skin tone,
he made a striking picture, one which, however, brought him sat-
isfaction other than a kind of mischievous pleasure in playing dis-
guises and bemddling poor Alice Wroke.

Gersen saw her coming along the central aisle, looking diffi-
dently this way and that. Gersen examined her as if he had never
seen her before: the wistful mouth, short delicate nose, cheeks slant-
ing to a small chin. Tonight her orange hair hung loosely past her
ears, almost to the shoulders of her simple smoke gray frock.

She saw Gersen; her expression became charged with a syn-
thetic enthusiasm. She nipped up her hand in a gay greeting and
crossed the room at a half trot, to halt ten feet from Gersen. She
gave him an admiring head-to-toe inspection. "I must say, Mr. Lu-
cas, that you turn yourself out most elegantly."

"It's Penwipers all the way," said Gersen. "Give the credit to
my valet."

Alice heard him without any great comprehension. Still smiling
brightly she said, "Well then, where shall we dine7 Here? The
Escutcheon Room is pleasant."

"Too loud, too crowded," said Gersen. "I know a place far
more exclusive."

"I place myself completely in your hands," said Alice.

"This way then, out into the Vegan night."

They left St. Diarmid's and Alice gingerly took Gersen's arm.
"Where are we going3"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS S03

"It's a pleasant night," said Gersen. "We can walk, if you like."

"I don't mind."

They crossed Mullawney Square to Beaudry Lane, and so into
Partee Old Town. Unreal' muttered Gersen to himself. We walk
the streets of Pontefract, she in her masquerade, I in mine.

Alice sensed something of Gersen's mood. "Mr. Lucas, why are
you so somber?"

Gersen evaded the question. "You may call me Henry. We are
not at the office."

"Thank you. Henry." She looked uneasily over her shoulder.
"I haven't been in this part of town before."

"It's not at all like Wild Isle3"

"Not at all."

Presently they arrived at the waterfront and Murdochs Bay
View Grill. Alice considered Gersen thoughtfully. Mr. Lucas, so
stuffy and meticulous, seemed to have unconventional facets to his
character.

They sat in a corner of the restaurant, beside a window. Below
them the water heaved in slow swells and sighed through the piles;

stars and far lights reflected from the dark surface. Gersen asked,
"Can you find your home star5"

"I don't know the patterns from here."

Gersen looked around the sky. "It's already set But there's old
Sol yonder."

Their dinner was served a soup of native artichokes, a stew of
crustaceans, onions, and herbs bubbling in brown pots, a salad of
fresh greens. Alice nibbled at this and that, and in response to Ger-
sen's question, pleaded lack of appetite. She drank several glasses
of wine and achieved a degree of vivacity.

"And what of the contest5" she asked. "Is it still a mystery5
Especially from me5"

"Mystery5 No longer. But let's not talk shop. You're the mys-
tery. Tell me about yourself."

Alice frowned out across Bottleglass Bay "There's nothing
much to tell. Life at Wild Isle isn't all that exciting, except for the
tourists."

"I'm still baffled about why you came to Pontefract."

"Ohcircumstances."

Dessert was served, fruit tarts and heavy coffee smothered with
cream, in accordance with Aloysian taste.

Gersen, who felt that he had lapsed far enough from character,

804 I'HF DKMON PRINCES

attempted a ponderous analysis of Pontefract politics, of which he
knew next to nothing. Alice sat apathetically, looking out the win-
dow across the dark water, her own thoughts obviously not focused
on Gersen's remarks.

Finally Gersen asked: "Where now? There isn't much enter-
tainment m Pontefract, except at the Mummery, and we're too late
for the program. Would you care for a carouse in one of the taverns
along the docks?"

"No ... I suppose we should go back to the hotel."

A top-heavy old cab conveyed them back to St. Diarmid's Inn.

In the lobby Gersen halted and performed a pontifical bow, as
if to take his leave. Alice said quickly, "Oh, please don't go so
soon." Looking off across the lobby she spoke m a carefully offhand
voice. "You can come up to my room, if you like."

Gersen protested politely. "But you must be tired."

Still looking away and with a trace of a flush coming over her
face, Alice said, "No. Not really. In fact, I'mwell, lonely."

Gersen bowed formally once again, in acquiescence. "In that
case I'll be happy to come up with you." He took her arm; they
went to the lift and rode up to the fourth floor.

Alice opened the door and walked into the room, rigid as a
prisoner.

Gersen followed warily. He halted m the doorway and surveyed
the room. Alice watched incuriously, not even troubling to inquire
the reasons for his vigilance.

Reassured, Gersen came slowly forward. He closed the door.
"Henry," said Alice breathlessly. "May I call you Henry?"

"I've told you so already."

"I forgot. Isn't that idiotic? Let me take your hat and coat."

Gersen tossed the hat into a chair and relinquished his coat.
"That's a relief. The Pontefract tailors have no concept of the hu-
man form."

"Sit down. Henrythere."

Gersen obediently eased himself down upon the couch. Alice
brought a silver tray from the sideboard. "What is all this?" asked
Gersen.

"Candied flower petals. Hydromel crystals. This is Liquor of
Life, from Sirsse " She poured clear green tincture into a pair of
small bowls. "At home, lovers drink Sirsse together," said Alice.
"Of course we've not lovers, you and I, but.. ."

THE BOOK OF DRE.4MS 805

"But what?"

"Ohnothing particular."

Gersen tasted the liquor, which seemed heady and subtle.

Alice asked, "Do vou like it?"

"It's unusual, certainly. And very fragrant."

Alice settled beside him and sipped from her own bowl. "It
makes me feel shudder)'." Gersen was surprised to find his arm
around her shoulders, he had intended to maintain his decorum.
She relaxed against him and he kissed herrather more than sheer
decorum mii^ht have dictated

Alice looked at him with pupils dark and dilated. Gersen asked,
"What's wrong2 Have I offended you2"

"Oh no." She laughed nervously. "You frighten me, just a little.
You're so different from Mr. Lucas at the office I don't know how
to describe it "

"There's definitely only one of me."

She poured out more of the liquor. "Drink."

"The lovers' potion2"

"If you want to call it that."

"Do you have another lover2"

"No...Whatofyou="

"I'm quite alone."

Alice put up her face and he kissed her again. Her dress fell
apart at the front, revealing her torso and a small round breast. She
seemed not at all perturbed

Gersen heaved a deep sigh. "This can't go any further."

"No2" Alice touched his cheek.

"I can't dispel a cruel suspicion."

Alice stared at him m consternation "WTiat do you mean?"

"I'd be very hurt to learn that you were cultivating me only to
gain information about the contest. Absurd, of course."

Alice sat tense and pale. "Absurd, indeed."

"Well, then, could we be lovers if I told you nothing whatever
about the contest2"

"This becomes so intellectual. . . 1 couldn't love someone who
places no trust in me "

"In other wordsno "

"But I don't want it to be that way," said Alice earnestly.

Gersen reflected a moment. "It seems that, to demonstrate my
trust, I must tell you everything I know."

806 I HP DI-MON PRINCES

"If you wish."

"Very well, why not7" Gersen stretched his legs out and put
his hands behind his head. "There's really not much to tell. The
persons in the picture have been identified, all except one, whose
identity is known to us under a different name " From his pocket
Gersen brought a list, from which he read names: "Yest, de Trem-
buscule, Utz, Bilfred, Vidol, Sparkhammer, Gray, Gadouth, Gie-
selman, Martiletto; all correct except 'Sparkhammer,' who is know
by dozens of other names. No one has submitted his real name.
Does that surprise you?"

"No. Why should it?"

Gersen tossed the list upon the table and leaned back once.
"Because he would seem to be a notorious criminal named Howard
Alan Treesong."

"Howard Alan Treesong? That can't be true!"

"Why not?"

Alice had no answer.

"The people in the photograph are all deadexcept number
six, who is Treesong. What does that suggest to you?"

Alice, with her thoughts far away, responded with a gloomy
shrug. "I don't understand any of this."

"There's another aspect to the matter," said Gersen. "If num-
ber six is Howard Treesongand he surely isI'd like to interview
him. Extant could very profitably use such a piece, or a short au-
tobiography. I wish I knew some way to get this message to him. I
want him to communicate with me."

Alice stared across the room and away into nothingness. Gersen
rose to his feet. He picked up his coat and hat Alice looked up and
spoke in a husky half whisper. "Are you going7"

Gersen nodded. "I've told you everything I know "

"But you haven't!" Alice blurted despairingly. "How did you
get the photograph?"

"I walked into the Cosmopolis library: I looked into the trash
basket and found this photograph. No one could tell me anything
about it, and so the Extant contest was born."

"Who put the picture into the trash basket5"

"A young and foolish clerk."

"Stillwhy did you choose this particular photograph2 There
must have been many others equally suitable."

"Someone unknown had written 'Treesong is here' on the pic-

THE BOOK Of- ORMMS 807

ture. I became interested because there are no known likenesses of
Treesong available. I felt that the picture would have considerable
news value. As it happens, that is the case "

Alice sat silently. Gersen went to the door. "Good night."

Alice looked at him with a tired gaze. "I wonder how much you
know of me."

"Not a great deal. Is there anything you want to tell me7 Trust
works both ways."

Alice gave her head a sad shake. "I haven't anything to tell."

"Good night then."

"Good night."

Alice sat where Gersen had left her, leaning back on the couch, legs
stretched out, a wintry expression on her face. She ran her fingers
through her orange hair, pushing the curls back from her forehead
into a tangle. For ten minutes she sat deep in reverie. Then, rousing
herself, she went to the telephone and made a complicated con-
nection.

A voice spoke. "Alice, so early? You're a pair of fast workers."

Alice responded in a level voice. "I have your information. The
persons in the photograph are as follows" She read names from
the list Gersen had left behind.

"What is the source of these names?"

"All the different entries. There's also at least one entry listing
the names all correctly, except one."

"And which name is that7"

"Mr. Lucas said that 'Sparkhammer' seems to use many differ-
ent names: Fred Framp, Bentley Strange, Howard Alan Treesong.
. .. I've forgotten the rest."

A silence. Then in a different voice, calm and meditative,
"WT^at did Mr. Lucas make of this?"

"I think he's anxious that Mr. Sparkhammer, or Mr Treesong,
should get m touch with him for an interview. He wants to publish
Mr. Treesong's autobiography."

The response was prompt and definite. "He is doomed to dis-
appointment Mr. Sparkhammer, or Mr. Treesong, whatever his
name, has no taste for such a vulgar antic. How did Extant come
into possession of the photograph3"

"Mr. Lucas found it in a trash basket in the Covrnopolis library.
A clerk had thrown it away."

"Odd, most odd . . . Are these facts?"

S08 I'HF DFMON PRINCPS

"1 think so."

"How did the photograph arrive at CosmopohsV

"I didn't think to ask; I suppose it came in whatever way is
usual."

"And what led him to select this particular photograph?"

"Someone had written on it 'Treesong is here.' That attracted
Mr. Lucas's attention."

"So he proposed a contest to identify Mr. Treesong and his
colleagues."

"That is what he told me."

"Did he say why7"

"He said he very much wanted to publish Mr. Treesong's au-
tobiography. As I told you, he wants Mr. Treesong to get in touch
with him."

"Small chance of that. Mr. Treesong is very busy with urgent
affairs." Mr. Strand became silent, for so long an interval that Alice
began to fidget. Then: "What else did he tell you7"

"Not very much. He knows that the photograph was taken at
Wild Isle, and that everyone died of charnay except Mr. Sparkham-

n

mer.

Another long silence. Then: "Very good, Alice. In the main
you have done well."

"I can go back home7 And you will do as you promised?"

"Not yet' Oh dear no, not yet' You must remain at your post!
Keep your eyes and ears open. This Henry Lucas person, what do
you make of him7"

Alice spoke in a bleak voice: "I don't know what to make of
him. He's a contradiction."

"Hmmf. That tells me nothing. But no matter, continue as
before. Tomorrow I am going away; and for a day or so you will
not be able to reach me. Continue your intimacy with Mr. Lucas.
I have a feeling that there is something more here, beyond what he
has told you."

"For how long7"

"In due course I will let you know."

"Mr. Strand, I've done all I can' Please"

"Alice, I have no time for your complaints. Continue as before
and all will be well. Is this understood7"

"I suppose so."

"Good night then "

"Good night "

Excerpt from an address by Nicholas Reid, Fellow of
the Institute, Phase 88, at the Madera Technical Col-
lege:

The Institute is dedicated to human excellence. We try
to augment beneficial processes and discourage those which
are morbid and septic.

Our credo derives from the history of the human race,
which evolved across millions of years in the natural envi-
ronment.

What happens when a saltwater fish is transferred into
fresh water7 It goes into spasms and dies. Consider, then,
a creature whose every sense, capability, and instinct have
been shaped by the natural environment, by interaction
with sun, wind, clouds, rain; the look of mountains and far
horizons, the taste of natural food, contact with the soil.
WTiat happens when this creature is transferred to a syn-
thetic environment3 He becomes neurotic, a victim of hys-
terical fads, willful hallucination, sexual perversion. He
deals with abstractions rather than facts, and so becomes
mtellectuahzed and incompetent. Confronted with a real
challenge, he screams, curls into a ball, closes his eyes, be-
fouls himself, and waits. He is a pacifist who fears to defend
himself.

From Better Understanding of the Institute, by Charles
Bronstem (82):

IHF DI-MON PRINCES

Urbanized men and women experience not life but the
abstraction of life, on ever higher levels of refinement and
dislocation from reality They become processors of ideas,
and have evolved such esoteric occupations as the critic, the
critic who criticizes criticism, and even the critic who crit-
icizes criticism of criticism It is a very sad misuse of human
talent and energy

From The Institute A Pf imef, by Mary Murray

Our tutelar}' genius is the titan Antaeus
Urbanity is an unnatural habitude.

Are we elitist, as it is often asserted^ Well, we surely do not
consider ourselves the dregs of society

We approve of contrast, social disequilibrium, extremes of
wealth Often we are accused of sponsoring chaos, however,
this has never been admitted

The Urbanites Strike Back'
"Elitist prigs'"

"If they like the Pleistocene so much, why don't they wear
skins and live m caves5"

"Residents of very lofty and very remote ivory towers which
they confuse with 'natural habitat' "

"I'd rather push a pencil in an air-conditioned office than
push a wheelbarrow in the mud "

In almost the same terms

"I'd rather pick flaws in someone's manuscript than pick
tomatoes in the hot sun "

Again
"I'd rather drive my Fissel Flasher than a balky mule "

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 811

Gersen stood at a window of his sitting room at Penwipers, brood-
ing down across old Tara Square The time was midnight, Tara
Square was dark and still Starlight illuminated the roofs of Pon-
teftact, casting black shadows down tall gables, under crooked eaves
and thousands of crotchety chimney pots

Gersen's mood was reflected in his posture, he felt morose and
drained of energy The great scheme had failed The program had
gone with precision Howard Treesong had reacted as positively as
Gersen could have hoped, in Alice Wroke he had found a conduit
leading to Treesong Then, almost casually, defeat. For whatever
motivespride, press of affairs, the workings of his uncanny war-
inessHoward Treesong had refused to consider the publication
of his autobiography, or so much as an interview.

There was no further leverage to be found in the contest In
the morning he would put Mrs Ench in charge of the entire pro)-
ect

What next5 Alice Wroke remained his single avenue of access
to Howard Treesong, but the linkage had become fragile and un-
certain.

Two questions remained unanswered How did Howard Tree-
song control Alice Wroke3 Why had Howard Treesong poisoned
nine people with charnay5

The answers were probably to be found at W^ild Isle, but, so
Gersen reflected glumly, the information would most likely be stale
and useless

Of far more interest what was Howard Treesong's present "ur-
gent business"7

Of this Alice Wroke evidently knew nothing No other source
of information suggested itself

Gersen looked over the starlit roofs In the pubs of Partee Old
Town lights would still be burning. He looked toward St Diarmid's
Inn and wondered if Alice Wroke was still awake

Gersen turned away from the window and stood motionless
Then he threw off the Penwipers shirt, donned a dark gray space-
man's blouse, pulled a soft cap down over his forehead, and started
for the door    A chime at the communicator turned him back
He stood frowning at the instrument Who would be calling him
at this hour^

The screen came alive and presented the long pale face of
Maxel Rackrose "Mr Lucas5"

812 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Speaking."

Rackrose spoke in a carefully languid voice. "The information
you wantedauthentications and so forthhas come together, ex-
cept for a few bits and pieces."

Maxel Rackrose spoke with such hushed restraint that Gersen
instantly became alert. Rackrose said without any great conviction,
"I do hope I haven't jerked you from your bed?"

"No. I was on my way out the door."

"Then why don't you step over to the office for a few minutes?
I think you'll be interested in what's turned up."

'Til be right there."

The Cosmopolis offices were never closed; work proceeded every
hour of the day, every day of the year. A tall glass door whisked
aside at Gersen's approach; he entered the foyer, where luminous
slabs of colored glass blacked out a Mercator map of Earth.

Gersen rode a lift high into the North Tower and so to the
offices of Maxel Rackrose, who now used the title Superintendent
of Miscellaneous Operations. The outer chamber, which reflected
Rackrose's pose of fastidious sophistication, was an exercise in the
most exquisite excesses of the High Clapshott style. The inner
room, where Rackrose spent most of his time, was a jungle of dis-
order. A long table supported stacks of books and periodicals, pa-
pers, photographs, oddments, curios, and perplexing trifles of junk.
There were several stools, a communicator, a complicated device
for the brewing of tea, another for the projection of kaleidoscopic
patterns on the wall, an attenuated statue of a nude womaiT nine
feet tall, whose belly opened on the hour to permit a bird to step
forth and cry "cuckoo."

Rackrose, a tall, angular young man in expensive if unconven-
tional garments, with a long, somewhat equine face, lank blond hair,
and heavy-lidded blue eyes, greeted Gersen in a carefully offhand
manner. "Sit down, if you will." He waved a limp white hand to-
ward one of his precious antique chairs. "Perhaps you'd take a cup
of tea? And a biscuit?"

"That would be nice."

With tea poured and anise cakes set forth, Rackrose settled into
a chair beside a kidney-shaped table. "And how goes your contest?"

"Quite well. One entry names nine of ten, and if no one does

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 813

better I think we'll nominate him the winner. What of your au-
thentications?"

Rackrose leaned back, pressed the tips of his fingers together,
looked toward the ceiling with pursed lips.

"In accordance with your instructions, I processed all available
information. I started with the Index' and information from our
own files. I may say that there was no trouble with authentication.
The subjects are persons of substance and reputation. Except for
number six. None of his purported names correlates with anything
other than disreputable activities. In short, he seems to be a crim-
inal."

"What of the others?"

"Aha! That's where we make an interesting discovery. I found
recurring references to the Institute, and such remarks as 'said to
rank high in the hierarchy,' and 'an apparently high-ranking Fel-
low.' In fact, Beatrice Utz is identified as '103.' Artemus Gadouth
was the Triune."2 Maxel Rackrose paused to allow Gersen to reflect
upon the implications of his information.

Gersen studied the photograph, which he already knew in mi-
nute detail. A startling suspicion formed in Gersen's mind, an idea
strange and terrible, "Ten faces; could it be the Dexad?"

"The same idea occurred to me," said Rackrose.

Gersen reflected a moment. Rackrose knew nothing of the

1. A directory or identities, originally compiled by the IPCC and continually augmented
by other agencies. The Index includes the records of history social welfare registrations,
military rosters, passenger lists of interplanetary vessels, birth, marriage, and death records,
telephone directories, school and university graduation lists; criminal identifications, the
memberships of clubs, associations, and fellowships, names culled from the daily news bv
automatic scanners.

2. The Institute grades its Fellows with Ranks 1 through 111- Number 111 is the Triune.
Ranks 110 and 100 are always empty

Ranks 101 through 109 are limited to a single Fellow- With the Triune, these ranks
make up the Dexad, though as often the nine Fellows from 101 through 109 are known
as the Dexad.

Fellows advance from 101 to Triune in order of precedence.
Three Fellows only occupy Rank 99. When a vacancy occurs in the Dexad, usually by
reason of death, surviving Fellows elect one of die three 99s to fill the vacancy

From the three Fellows in Rank 98, one is elected to Rank 99- Similarly, Fellows
advance up the ranks from 90- Below 90, there is no limit upon the Fellows allowed into
each rank

To achieve Rank 89 is difficult. To attain Rank 99 is much more difficult. A Fellow
elected to Rank 101 has a good chance of becoming Triune. This is not necessarily true
in Rank 99, where a Fellow who has made enemies among the Dexad may never be
advanced

814 THE DEMON PRINCES

charnay poisonings, nor did he realize that number six was Howard
Alan Treesong. He asked, "Who ranks highest locally?"

Rackrose frowned toward the ceiling. "There's a hermit out on
Boniface who is supposed to rank high. I've heard he's in the Dexad.
If so, this picture would not seem to be the Dexad, because there's
no one here from Boniface."

"Who ranks high in Pontefract?"

"I'm not sure. Let me ask Condo; he knows such things." Rack-
rose spoke into the communicator using a soft voice only a trifle
louder than a whisper. He made notes on a pad of pale pink paper.
"Good enough." He turned back to Gersen with a page torn from
his pad. "Her name is Leta Goynes. She lives at seventeen Flaherty
Crescent, out in Bray, and she might be as high as a sixty or sixty-
five."

Gersen took the address to his own small office, which was far less
splendid than that of Maxel Rackrose. At his communicator he
placed a call. A moment passed, then an unemphatic female voice
spoke. "Leta Goynes here."

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Mrs. Goynes. My
name is Kirth Gersen, and I want to consult you on a matter of
great importance."

"Now?"

"Unfortunately yes. It's Institute business of extreme urgency.
If you'll allow me, I'll come directly out to your house."

"Where are you now?"

"At the Cosmopolis offices."

"Take Transit to Bray Junction; a cab will bring you out to
Flaherty Crescent."

As Gersen approached the cottage at 17 Flaherty Crescent, the door
slid back; backlighted in the opening stood a dark-haired woman,
sturdy, solid, and obviously in good physical condition. She gave
Gersen a cursory inspection and stood back. Gersen entered; the
door closed behind him. "This way," said Leta Goynes, and led
him to a neat parlor. "Tea?"
"Yes, please."

She poured and handed Gersen a cup. "Sit anywhere you like."
"Thank you." Gersen seared himself; Leta Goynes remained
standing, a rather handsome woman in her early maturity, her black

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 815

hair cut close to her head, her eyes dark and direct under strong
black eyebrows. "There is no Kirth Gersen known to Cosmopolis."

"For a good reason. I call myself Henry Lucas, Special Writer."

"You are a Fellow?"

"No longer. At Phase eleven I discovered that the Institute and
I often worked at odds with each other."

Leta Goynes, smiling faintly, inclined her head in a terse nod.
"So then?"

Gersen handed her the contest photograph. "Have you seen
this? It appeared in Extant."

"I haven't seen it before."

"What do you make of it?"

"Nothing particular."

"You recognize no one?"

"No one."

"It might well be the Dexad. Artemus Gadouth is this gentle-
man. He is Triune, as I suppose you are aware."

Leta Goynes nodded. "I've never met him."

"This is Sharrod Yest. .. Dianthe de Trembuscule . . . Beatrice
Utz, rank one hundred three . . . lan Bilfred . . . This gentleman
calls himself Sparkhammer . . . Sabor Vidol, rank ninety-nine . . .
John Gray . . . Gadouth . . . Gieselman, rank one hundred six ...
Robun Martiletto." Gersen paused.

Leta Goynes said, "This is not the entire Dexad. There are
three personsthose numbers five, six, and sevenwho are prob-
ably ninety-nine. Last month we lost Eimo Shookey. This banquet
precedes, so I presume, the elevation of a ninety-nine."

"The elevation may not have occurred," said Gersen. "All ex-
cept number six were poisoned by charnay."

Leta Goynes's face became cool and faintly scornful. "The In-
stitute is not only strong; it is flexible. Normal adjustments are
being made."

"In this case the adjustment will not be so easy. The survivor,
number six, poisoned the others. His name is Howard Alan Tree-
song."

Leta Goynes stared at the photograph. "That is terrible infor-
mationif it is true. And I see that it must be true. . . . How did
he gain rank ninety-nine?"

"Through fraud, extortion, fear, mind bendingso I suppose.
Certainly he never rose through the ranks. But a more important

816 THE DEMON PRINCES

question: What members of the Dexad are missing from the pic-
ture? And where are these members?"

Leta Goynes managed a harsh cold laugh. "Under the circum-
stances that becomes highly important information."

"True. And I might be one ofTreesong's colleagues."

"Or Treesong himself"

Gersen handed her Jehan Addels's business card. "Telephone
this man. He is a local resident of good reputation. Ask him what-
ever vou like about me."

Leta Goynes went to the communicator. "First I will ask some-
one about Jehan Addels."

She made a set of guarded inquiries, watching Gersen mean-
while from the corner of her eye. Then she telephoned Jehan Ad-
dels. After some delay he responded, displeased that his rest had
been disturbed. Gersen spoke to him: "This lady is Leta Goynes.
Answer any questions she cares to ask."

Leta Goynes questioned Addels for fifteen minutes, then slowly
turned away from the communicator. She had gradually resumed
that manner typical of the Institute's upper ranks: a serene and
exasperating indifference to events, including personal convenience.

"Addels gives you a remarkable reputation." She thoughtfully
sipped her tea, then spoke in a pensive voice: "The Institute tends
to ignore ordinary social problems, even criminals as egregious as
Howard Treesong. Still. . ." Leta Goynes set her chin. "I will give
you your information. Three of the Dexad are not present in the
photograph. They are one hundred one, one hundred two, and one
hundred seven. The death of one hundred seven was the occasion
for the conclave, one hundred one lives in isolation on Boniface, at
a place called Athmore Violet, in the wildest part of World's Moil.
His name is Dwyddion and he is our Triune, although he may not
know it, since he sees no one and refuses to communicate."

"And what of one hundred two?"

Leta Goynes smiled a strange crooked smile. "His name is Ben-
jamin Wroke. He drowned in the Shanaro Sea. Last week his body
was washed up on the beach at Cele, which is near Wild Isle."

From Everyman's Guide to the Stars:

Vega; Alpha Lyrae:

... The three inner planets, Padraic, Mona, Noaille,
are cinders of scorched stone, baking in the austere glare
of the Great White Star. Noaille holds one face steady to
Vega, and is noteworthy for the rains of liquid mercury
which fall on the dark side, flow to the hot side where they
vaporize, and return to the dark side.

Next are the inhabited worlds: Aloysius, Boniface, and
Cuthbert. Cuthbert is humid and unpleasantly marshy, with
few areas comfortably habitable, in part due to the numer-
ous insects which give Cuthbert its sobriquet: "Bug Hun-
ter's Paradise."

Aloysius is next in orbit, temperate, if damp, and most
densely populated of the Vegan worlds.

The early history of Aloysius is dominated by rivalry
between religious sects; the effects of the hatred and warfare
so engendered persist to the present, most especially in the
countryside, in the form of provincial suspiciousness. The
cities Pontefract, New Wexford, Yeo are relatively cosmo-
politan.

Boniface, outermost and largest of the habitable worlds,
is gloomy, dank, and like a caricature of the other two,
exaggerating all the harshness and oddities of its sister plan-
ets. The oceans are bedeviled by awful storms, the land
masses are notable for an extravagant topography: vast
plains supine to the force of winds and rain; mountains,

81S 1HF DFMON PRINCES

caves, crags, chasms, broad rivers flowing from sea. to sea
Here and there the land allows habitation, though never
ease or comfort.

From earliest times the shrewd and provident folk of
\loysms, wresting value from dross, used the inhospitable
wastes of Boniface as a penal settlement, and here were
discharged the atheists, incorngibles, and irredeemables of
the Vegan worlds

Arriving at Port Swaven, the convicts were processed at
a staging compound operated by the Order of St Jedasias
A certain Abbot Nahut, through divine revelation, received
instruction in a new regimen to which arriving convicts
must be subjected, the better to prepare them for life on
Boniface The methods were drastic and unique Many of
the survivors suffered genetic damage which stabilized, and
a new human species was thereby more or less accidentally
created These were the "Fops," one of the curiosities of
the human universe The typical FO)O was tall, with thin
arms and legs, big hands and feet, gnarled heavy features,
and a shock of white quills in place of hair The Fops be-
came functionally the indigenous race of Boniface and mi-
grated to all the most sheltered nooks, crannies, and lonely
valleys of their harsh world.

In a few little townsSlayman, Cashel Creary, Na-
hutty, Kaw Doon, Fiddletowna few ordinary men and
women operate shops and agencies and perform technical
services, dealing with the FO)OS in a state of mutual distaste

The Order of St Jedasias is long extinct, but by one of
the more acrid cosmic ironies, the FO)OS still espouse a var-
iant of the Jedasian creed, and in every little FO)O village
exists a square Jedasian church

Time suddenly had become a critical factor, inasmuch as Dwyd-
dion, hermit and new Triune, must surely represent one of Howard
Treesong's "urgent affairs " Gersen made all possible haste, from
Leta Govnes's cottage to the spaceport, aboard his Fantamn Flit-
tenvmg, and away into space

The automatic pilot sw^ng the boat high over Vega and down
on the opposite side, to where Boniface coasted in orbit A primitive
world, with nothing of value to be plundered, looted, or kidnapped,

7 HE BOOK OF DRE/1\J^ 819

Boniface lacked all entry controls, Gersen dropped unchallenged
down to the harsh blue-black-and-white disk

Gersen searched the Vegan Gazetteef, but found only a single
vague reference to Athmore Violet The Skak Range ran diagonally
across a section known as World's Moil, in the middle of St Cro-
decker's continent Along the southern flanks of the Skak, the river
Meaughe meandered down Meaughe Vale, where Gersen noted the
town Poldoolie, which might well be a source of local information

The surface of Boniface, obscured by clouds and camouflaged
by cloud shadows, revealed no obvious landmarks Gersen oriented
himself with the help ot radio beacons, calculated the coordinates
of the town Poldoolie, and slanted down into the heavy atmosphere

Over Meaughe Vale the sky was clear Gersen located Pol-
doolie, a huddle of stone structures beside a growth of purple
voitch ' Gersen descended in a spiral and landed the Flittering in
a soggy meadow a quarter mile east of the town

The time was local noon Gersen stepped from the Fhttef'wi'ng
into a dank cold wind smelling of mud and rancid vegetation.

Out from the town bounded a dozen gangling ragamuffins, the
larger thrusting the smaller aside, the smaller cursing and tripping
the larger. All wore dirty white smocks which they hiked up as they
ran, revealing white legs and knobby knees Their heads were nar-
row, their facial structures crude and gnarled Irorn each narrow
scalp rose a bush of stiff white spines The first to arrive halted two
feet from Gersen and screamed "I'm the guardian, I'm here first,
the others are smashers, pay them naught' I'm Keak, for me the
gautch "

"Gautch3 What is gautcrr" asked Gersen

"That is my payment I want either five SVU or five picture
books"

The other boys cried out in eager voices "Give him books for
gautch' Good books, with bosers' Vetch bosers1"

"Bosers3 What are bosers2"

The question evoked strangled guffaws Keak wiped his mouth
and explained "Boserswith the wide areas and no clothes on
Yetch they're the good bosers'"

1 -\ single org.mism comparable tu A gi^ntiL lichen voin-h supports a bliLk mat ten
tttt thick on [BVMIV or pale gra\ stilks ntn CLLI till C ercain growths ut ^oitch are poi
sonous others predatory and carnuurou'i I he benign specimens furnish food drink hber
shelter and pharmaceutical-,

820 THE Dt- MON PRINCE S

"I see," said Gersen "And suppose I pay neither coin nor pic-
tures of naked bosersthen what5"

"Then the smashersthose ugly chuts yonder' They'll muck
up your ferberator crystals and pour stale dog piss into your air
intakes So pay up and I'll fend them off "

Gersen considered "How can you control so many smashers5"

"They know better than to flout me Cukkms' Tell what I'll do
to you "

"Faith, and I smash so much as a twittle, he'll shove me head
up my own bum He's a scarfer, is Keak, and he knows how to do
it"

Gersen nodded "Well, Keak, I see that you mean business
Still, I think I had better make sure of everyone This way, then,
around the boat, I've got fine things in the cargo hatch for lads like
you"

"Eh5" asked a small youth "What sort of fine things2"

"What of boser books5" asked Gersen "Dozens of them, all
rotten scurrilous'"

"That's the talk'" cried Keak "Let's have a look'"

"This way " Gersen went around the ship, followed by the
youths, loping and hopping. Gersen slid open the cargo port and
drew down the ladder He pointed to Keak. "First choice goes to
you, quick now, I can't waste time."

Keak hopped up the ladder, followed by the others, with Gersen
at the rear

"There's naught for light in here," croaked Keak "Make light'
Show us bosers "

"Wide arse, big udders "

Gersen touched a button, light came to the chamber, which
was starkly empty

"Hey'" called Keak "There's naught here'"

Gersen grinned "Only a clutch of young blackguards I'm go-
ing now about my business and I'm locking you in If you make
any mess I'll fly you into the mountains and turn you out, and you
won't be home for supper tonight So mind your conduct'"

Gersen backed down the ladder, closed and locked the hatch
He set off across the dank meadow and presently found a lane which
flanked a stagnant drainage ditch choked with magenta slime

At the outskirts of town he passed a small cottage, raised from

THE BOOK OF DRHAM^ 821

the bog on posts Under the porch crouched an old man, sorting
rocks from a sack into three piles

Gersen called out, "Hoy' Can you direct me to Athmore Vio-
let5 I can't find it on my map.'

The old man merely crouched in the shadow Thinking that he
had not been heard, Gersen approached. The old man threw a cloth
over his rocks and, spraddling on long legs like an ungainly spider,
scrambled back into the muck under his house.

Gersen turned away and continued along the lane, passing an-
other cottage, somewhat more substantial, with a black energy unit
on the roof, surmounted by a religious fetish In the gateway of the
low wall stood a man wearing a tall conical hat

Gersen halted and tendered an affable greeting. "Good day,
sir"

"Yes, yes," replied the FO)O in a patronizing drawl.

Gersen )erked a thumb toward the first cottage "Why does the
old man hide under his house5"

The FO)O chuckled at Gersen's naivete "He is a miner, isn't
that clear5 Those are his new ores Look under the house, notice
how his eyes gleam' He carries a bylo-by Had you touched his ores
he would have blown away your head and ears "

"I only want information Where is Athmore Violet5 My map
doesn't show it"

"Naturally not At Athmore Violet Bugardoig mines alexan-
drites'"

"I am not interested in alexandntes I want to find a man who
lives nearby Can you direct me to Athmore Violet5"

The FOJO )erked his thumb toward the town "Bugardoig is the
man to ask "

"I'm in a hurry I don't want to waste time looking for Bugar-
doig "

"Rest easy, he will find you as soon as he notices your vessel
on his water meadow, and he won't waste time "

"What of yourself5 Do you care to earn a hundred SVU5 Help
me find my friend "

"Near Athmore Violet, you say That must be the hermit of
Voymont "

"He is a solitary man, true "

"Athmore Violet and Voymont perilous parts, if only because
of Bugardoig's mines "

822 I HE DEMON PRINCF S

From inside the cottage came a hoarse voice "Take the money,
Lippold Do as required' It is a small thing "

Lippold made no acknowledgment of the advice Apparently he
had lost interest in Gersen and stood staring serenely off across
Meaughe Vale Overhead the sky broke apart and Vega darted light
of resplendent clarity across the landscape Objects came alive with
color swamp gorse in maroon and ocher, the mountains behind
Poldoolie blue-black and white; the voitch, purple, with an inex-
plicable blue-green umbra below. The clouds closed like a trap,
Vega-light was gone Lippold stood unmoved by the sudden
splendor and its equally abrupt disappearance Gersen turned away
and continued toward the town an irregular huddle of stone huts,
sties, stables, and sheds, a dozen shops and agencies, a tavern, a
squat Jedasian church

Above, clouds from east and west collided They swirled and
churned, rain began to fall Gersen looked over his shoulder, Lip-
pold, in a blur of rain, stood as before

Gersen ran into town and took shelter under the eaves of a
shuttered mechanic's shop Only the tavern seemed open for busi-


ness

Gersen waited a moment The ram continued to fall m gray
sheets, momentarily illuminated with flashes of lightning Gersen
saw tall figures loping through the drench toward the tavern, paus-
ing at the door to shake and kick off the wet, then enter For a
moment the rain paused. During the lull Gersen ran up the street
to the tavern

He entered a long room, with a counter to one side, benches
and tables to the other. A line of high windows with panes of yellow
mica allowed a dreary light into the room At the tables sat groups
of FO|OS, hunched over cups of mulled liquor The pungence of hot
brew mingling with the sour steam of wet clothes and damp flesh
brought a twitch to Gersen's nostrils

As he advanced into the room, all conversation halted and all
heads turned and rows of milk blue eyes scrutinized Gersen Each
man wore a stocking cap pulled down over his spike of hair, similar
caps hung on poles beside each table Gersen nodded politely to
the company and went to the counter The barman, wiping great
hands on the dirty towel tied around his stomach, approached
"What is your want2"

I HE BOOK OF DREAMS 823

"I'd like a few words with someone named Bugardoig," said
Gersen "Is the gentleman here at the moment2"

"There's no Alois Bugardoig here, and what are you needing
from him that you wouldn't be better without2 And will you not
wear a hat5 Where's your manners3"

"Sorry, I don't own a hat "

"No matter, you'd look a silly )ape with the prut hanging past
your cheek like a spent coigel Aha, who is this2"

Into the tavern lumbered a man, thick and heavy, with slit pale
blue eyes almost closed by bulging apple-red cheeks He went to a
pole, took off a "prut," and with a deft twist brought it down over
his spike of hair Gersen turned to the barman "Is that Bugardoig2"

"Ha-ha' That's cause for laughter, orshould you be Bugar-
doiga great twinge of rage That is Looke Hollop, and he empties
the town swill Notice his arms He's a strong man, is Hollop, but
never like Bugardoig Are you drinking7 Do you like our boiled
twirps2"

"What else do you serve7"

"Little else It's good enough for us, are you for fluting and
luting with your nose over our good twirps2"

"Never," said Gersen "Be good enough to serve me a portion "

"Well said Jocko' A battern of twirps for this outlander And
here, since I'm taking pity on you, let me wrangle up a semblance
of decency for your head." The barman stuffed paper into a soiled
and oily prut and pulled it down over Gersen's brow, so that the
stuffed part wobbled first to one side, then the other "Not good,"
said the barman, "but better, especially since your business is with
Alois Bugardoig, who is a rare stickler for the niceties of life, in
fact, he's sworn never to harm another man on the Holy Day, can
you believe it2 Some declare he's only that much worse other days
Oh, worry, who is this3"

Into the tavern came a FO)O with a great barrel chest and a face
splayed and gnarled like a jungle fungus Gersen asked "Is that
Bugardoig3"

"Him2 Never That's Shirmis Poddle Shirmus, what's it to be3
The usual2"

"The usual, since there's naught better I wonder where is my
brat2 He should have been out back addling the deckers and not a
flap of his shirttail Well, no matter It's his bones I'll bruise and
not my own "

THE DEMON PRINCES

824

The barman slid across a jar of heavily spiced twirps. "Drink
in joy, Shirmis. Today so far has been quiet."

"Is that surly thing on his way? Or will I have a moment's
peace?"

"Only the High Eye sees so far. Hush! Do you hear him now?"

Shirmis again looked toward the door. "That's only thunder.
Still"he raised his jar and drank"you've roused my nerves. I'm
away for places more serene."

The barman watched him depart and gave a sad shake of the
head. "Fear is a strange sense and can't be explained. Ah then, is
that yet thunder, or is it Bugardoig shaking his leg?"

A Fojo entered the tavern, his shoulders tilling the doorway.
Twin buttresses of ropy muscle arched up to support his jaw, so
that the head seemed more narrow than the neck. His mouth was
a gash, his nose a jut of cartilage.

Gersen looked to the barman. "And there . . . ?"

"There you see Bugardoig, and today he has flame in his eye.
Someone has treated him poorly, and it may be hard for all of us.
Is your prut on straight?"

"I hope so. What does he drink?"

"The usual and several more like it."

"Serve up a double order." Gersen turned toward Bugardoig,
who stood looking among the patrons of the tavern with an air of
glowering purpose. Turning toward the bar he took notice of Ger-
sen, and gave an exaggerated jerk of displeasure. "And what is this
here, with hat askew and face like a gargoyle?"

"A friend in Pontefract asked me to seek you out. He suggested
that I put down my ship in your water meadow, as you are noto-
riously generous. Incidentally, I have ordered a double portion of
liquor on your behalf."

Bugardoig lifted one mug in his right hand, drained it; he took
the second mug in his left hand, poured it down his throat with
equal facility, and set the empty containers back on the counter.

"And so to business. Since I make no exceptions, pay me now
and at once a hundred SVU for landing fees, demurrage, and berth-
ing for the month."

"First, let us discuss a larger matter," said Gersen. "Have you
a few hours to spare at this moment?"

"On what kind of business?"

"Profitable business."

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS S25

"Explain yourself."

"Near Athmore Violet lives an important man whom we must
visit at once."

"Eh? Who is this? The crazy hermit on Voymont?"

"He is not altogether crazy," said Gersen. "In fact, he has rec-
ommended you as most qualified to take me to Voymont, since your
properties are nearby."

Bugardoig uttered a great boom of laughter. "Not so nearby
that I care to risk my life on V^oymont. So pay me my fee and go
to Voymont alone. If you approach Arthmore Violet, expect my
intense displeasure."

Gersen nodded slowly. "Well then, come along to my boat; I
carry no money on my person."

Bugardoig contorted his face into an astonished scowl. "Must
I plod the wet marsh because you have been fool enough to forget
your money?"

"Whatever you like," said Gersen. "Wait here. I will go for the
money and bring it to you."

"Ha!" roared Bugardoig. "I am not to be tricked so readily.
Come; if I must, I must. To your ship, and I will collect a surcharge
often SVU."

"Hold a moment!" bawled the barman. "I want a three-piece'
for the liquor!"

Gersen put a coin on the counter and signaled to Bugardoig.
"Let us hurry before the rain returns."

Bugardoig grumbled under his breath, then followed Gersen
from the tavern. They walked back along the lane under a plum-
colored sky, past the cottage where Lippold stood as before, past
the hut of the miner, who was nowhere to be seen, and out upon
Bugardoig's water meadow.

They approached the Flittefiving. Gersen said to Bugardoig:

"Wait here. I will jump aboard and fetch the money."

"Don't waste my time with foolishness!" said Bugardoig.
"Open up. You won't stray beyond the clutch of my fingernails until
I heft what is due me."

"The Fojos are a suspicious race," said Gersen. He climbed the
ladder and opened the port, with Bugardoig close at his heels. "This

1. A coin worth three-quarters of an SVU.

826 THE DEMON PRINCES

way," said Gersen. At the after bulkhead of the saloon he slid open
a door, gestured to Bugardoig. "Through here."

Bugardoig shoved impatiently past and into the cargo hold;

Gersen slid the door shut and engaged the clamps, even as Bugar-
doig realized his error and hurled himself against the door. Gersen
pressed his ear to the panel and heard strident voices. Grinning, he
went to the controls, took the boat into the air, and new away up
Meaughe Vale. Below, the river moved south like a sullen gray
snake through terraces splotched with various sorts of vegetation:

gray goiter bush, purple voitch, pale green wax plant, black smut-
trees. Minarets of pink and yellow land-coral thrust a hundred feet
into the air; poisonous orange smears delineated colonies of wan-
dering musk.

Ten miles slid behind. Gersen dropped the boat upon a
meadow of broad-leaved silver-grass. He alighted from the boat and
walked to the cargo hatch and slid it open, lowered the ladder. He
called, "Keak! Keak! Speak up!"

A surly voice replied: "W^hat do you want?"

"How much mess have you created?"

A short pause; then in airy tones, cracking up into falsetto: "I
personally? Nothing of consequence."

"Keak! Listen carefullyvery carefully indeed! I am now about
to let the brats go free. All but you. We will look over the cargo
hatch. If conditions offend me, I will carry you two hundred miles
into the mountains. There you, and you alone, will scour that cargo
hatch until it glistens and smells sweet as the roses of Kew. Then
you will go your way and I will go mine."

Keak's voice came somewhat tremulously: "Conditions are tol-
erably good. 1 notice a bit of mess here and there"

"You had better clean it now, while you still command help,
and while you are still close to home."

"We have no cleaning stuffs."

"There is water in the meadow. Use your shirts."

Keak uttered a furious spate of barking orders. The boys came
blinking and winking down the ladder. Then appeared a pair of
massive legs, next a great torso, and finally the head of Alois Bu-
gardoig. At the base of the ladder he halted to stare at Gersen, his
cheeks pulsing in and out, his mouth a giant scarlet polyp. Slowly
he hunched his shoulders and started for Gersen, who burnt a line

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 827

of crackling dazzle almost across Bugardoig's toes. "Don't provoke
me," said Gersen. "I'm in a hurry."

Bugardoig drew back a pace, his face flushed and dismal. Gersen
w^ved the gun toward Keak. "Faster! Remember how fast you ran
out from town?"

Half an hour later Gersen took the boat aloft, leaving a discon-
solate a^roup of shirtless boys staring up after him. As he watched
they turned and, tucking elbows against skinned white chests, loped
off down the valley.

Bugardoig now sat in the saloon, a cord limiting his scope of
action. Knots of muscle played up and down his cheeks; his eyes
showed as cracks of blue glitter. Bugardoig clearly was not one to
show a tolerant or even fatalistic face to adversity.

Gersen took the ship high under the first fleeting layers of
cloud. He turned to Bugardoig. "Are you acquainted with Dwyd-
dion?"

"The hermit? Certainly I know him. He lives over Voymont
from Athmore Violet. Have I not said he was crazy?"

"Crazy or not, we've got to get him away from Voymont or
he'll be killed."

"And this is important?"

"Quite important. So, where is Voymont from here?"

"Yonder. Across the Skak."

"And what are the landmarks?"

Bugardoig uttered a rasping groan. "All, the inconveniences I
owe this evil yetch and his gun . . . What if 1 am struck down by
lightning?"

"That then will be your fate."

Bugardoig heaved himself erect and looked out the ports. "Go
west and a slarsh-tit' north. Voymont is beyond those three sharp
peaks. Notice that black shadow? That's the Pritz, across from Voy-
mont, with Airy Gulch between. Notice the devil's-light! Ah,
there's weird tricks along the Pritz!"

Gersen took the FUttefiving high, across ascending ramparts of
dreary black rock, and over an awesome badlands of crag and cre-
vasse. To the west loomed the Pritz. Lightning flashes up and down
its face became ever more noticeable.

1, Sl.irsh^ Fojo renii tor a pre.idolesc-'em girl. Slarsb-dt is a vulgar colli.iqui,iliM]i for "tri-
fling .imounr," or "ro an .ilmusr negligible degree."

THE DEMON PRINCES

S28

A jumble of confused ridges passed below, which Bugardoig
named in a despondent voice: "The Shaggeth . . . Morney's Tooth,
and yonder, Athmore Violet. . . Hunckertown Trabble, with a bore
of palladium . . . Mount Lucasta; there's the head of Poorleg's River
. . . Now the Vovmont. .."

The Flitterwing cruised out over an enormous gulch, with a
silver trickle of water far below.

"Below is Airy Gulch," said Bugardoig.

The Flitterwmg hovered and settled slowly. From churning
clouds spasms of lightning clawed the Pritz. Gersen asked in a voice
unconsciously taut: "Where is Dwyddion?"

"Lower your vessel into Old Airy ... There, yonder, the ledge,
where only a madman would live."

Gersen slid the Flittering close to the Voymont, settled through
gusts of wind.

Bugardoig pointed a red-knuckled finger, "There, Dwyddion's
house. I now have done my undertaking; take me back to Pol-
doolie."

"We'll stop only long enough to make sure of Dwyddion."

"Bah," grumbled Bugardoig. "I am tempted to pound your
head with my fist, gun or no gun."

"Be patient," said Gersen. "We will not be long. In fact, the
faster the better."

The Flitterwing drifted close to the mountainside. Dwyddion's
house was a simple structure: a block of welded stone and glass,
perched precariously on a ledge. To the north the ledge had been
widened by an artful piling and wedging of large boulders, creating
first a viaduct a hundred feet long, then a small shallow landing
area: a place open and exposed to view. South of the house the
ledge became a path leading to a cramped level place in the angle
of a crevice. Here sat a small black flier, and beyond, half excavated
into the stone, a structure which Gersen assumed to be a workshop.
This area was concealed and unobtrusive. He lowered the FUtter-
iving to a landing behind Dwyddion's black flier.

Bugardoig made a sneering criticism of Gersen's choice of land-
ing place. "Are you yetch so foolish? Why do you not use the
convenient area? Is it too easy and obvious an operation?"

Gersen replied in a measured voice: "A criminal is coming to
kill Dwyddion. I don't want him to know that I'm here."

Bueardoier erave a rattling snort of derision.

THE BOOK OF ORE-IMS 829

Gersen opened the port and jumped to the ground. "I can't
leave you alone in front of those controls," he told Bugardoig.
"Something strange might happen. You'd better come along with
me."

Bugardoig folded his massive arms. "I stay here."

"Right now!" said Gersen. "There's no time to waste."

"For crazy yetch business any time is a waste," growled Bugar-
doig. "Get along with you."

"Then it's the cargo hatch for you."

"No."

Gersen held out his hands. "Watch me." He Jerked his right
bleep; into his hand as if by magic appeared a projac. "You know
what I can do with this." He Jerked his left bicep and displayed that
complicated weapon known as a dedactor. "Is this familiar to you?
No? It discharges three sorts of glass needles. The mildest causes
a maddening itch of three weeks' duration. I will use ten needles
on you unless you make a very quick move to the cargo hatch."

"At last you persuade me," said Bugardoig. He groaned,
belched, and with maddening deliberation lowered his bulk to the
ground. "I'll go with you and watch your tricks."

Gersen looked around the sky. "Let's make haste."

He set off along the ledge with Bugardoig ambling behind.

A door at the back of Dwyddion's house slid ajar; in the shadow
stood a tall thin man. He took a step forward and his features be-
came clear; a dome of a forehead with a high receding mat of dust-
colored hair, black eyes brooding in shadowed eye sockets, gaunt
cheeks, a delicate pointed chin: a face implying great intellectual
force and a cheerless disposition. He inspected his visitors without
amiability.

Gersen halted. "You are Dwyddion?"

"I am he." Dwyddion's voice was deep. "Do not the terms of
this place suggest my earnest desire for solitude?"

"Death is also solitary. You must listen carefully as we have
very little time. I am Kirth Gersen; this is Alois Bugardoig, a gen-
tleman of Poldoolie, who consented to guide me here."

"To what purpose?"

Gersen again searched the sky, and ag-ain saw only dark overcast
and low clouds whirling down the wind.

A gust howled across the mountainside, pelting their faces with
drops ot half-fro/'en rain. Dwyddion made an impatient sound,

THF DFMONPRINCFS

830

hunched his head between his shoulders, and retreated into his
house Gersen and Bugardoig followed, with the poorest possible
grace Dwyddion allowed them to pass

They had come directly into the main room of the house Ger-
sen received an impression of austere proportions, neutral colors,
humorless and marginally comfortable furnishings The message of
the room was ambiguous Here might be the expression of Dwyd-
dion's personality, his overview of existence, or he might simply
have subordinated the room to the view from its wide windows, the
vast gulch blowing with winds and mists, the Pntz, and the inces-
sant play of purple-white lightning

Dwyddion spoke coldly "Again may I inquire the reason for
your intrusion3"

"Certainly You were notified in regard to a recent conclave of
the Dexad at W^ild Isle3"

"Yes I chose not to attend In discussions I find myself consis-
tently a minority of one, and my presence seems unnecessary "

Gersen held out his photograph "You know all these men3"

"Of course."

"And this person here2"

"He is Silas Sparkhammer, a ninety-nine I consider him intel-
ligent, spontaneous, extremely inventive, and totally unsuitable for
the Dexad "

"I agree entirely," said Gersen "His name, incidentally, is
Howard Alan Treesong He poisoned the Triune and the entire
Dexad with charnay. There were two exceptions Benjamin Wroke,
whom he drowned, and you, who must now be considered the new
Triune Upon your death, Treesong becomes Triune, and he is now
on his way here to murder you "

Dwyddion stared, blinking from the photograph to Gersen
"All are dead?"

"All "

"Ha hum I find this simply incredible "

"No doubt It is shocking news But we have no time to waste
You must come with us" Gersen gestured toward the door

Dwyddion drew back "I know nothing, I have no facts I cannot
act so abruptly    Who, then, are you3"

"I'll tell you everything as soon as we're away from here Come
now "

THE BOOK OF DREAVIS 831

Dwyddion gave his head a fretful shake "No, of course not
This is sheer hysteria I can't"

Gersen gestured to Bugardoig. "Seize this fellow, carry him
out" With Dwyddion safe and out of the way on the FliTtei-wing,
an ambush of Howard Treesong would become feasible With luck,
the affair could be brought to its finish on this very day

Bugardoig blinked, then advanced upon Dwyddion, who cried
out in a choked voice of outrage "Stand back'" He flailed out with
his fists as Bugardoig stepped forward Bugardoig uttered a grunt
of annoyance for the foolish position in which he found himself
He seized Dwyddion, slung him aloft and over his shoulder Bu-
gardoig growled at Gersen: "And what now3 I am bored with this
nonsense "

Gersen opened the door. "Carry him to the ship, and quickly
It's a thankless task, agreed " Bugardoig stalked out upon the ledge
with Gersen close behind

Three men who had been advancing upon the house stopped
short The person on the left was sleek as a seal in a suit of black
velvet His face was round and white and distinguished by an ornate
artificial nose wrought from gold filigree. At the center stood How-
ard Alan Treesong, wearing green trousers, plum red coat, flapping
black cape, and black cheese-slice hat To the right a chisel-faced
man with a black skin and black beard stared at Bugardoig in won-
der

Treesong called out in a quick gay voice "Hola' What goes on
here3"

Gersen brought forth the projac He aimed at Treesong only
to find Bugardoig in front of him. Leaning aside, he pulled the
trigger, the bolt struck into Treesong's long taut thigh. Treesong
whirled to the ground in a flutter of his black cape. Gersen dropped
to his knee and fired again, but Treesong had slid over the edge of
the viaduct, and lay among the boulders, where he gave vent to a
set of peculiar many-voiced outcries

Gersen fired at the black-skinned man and killed him )ust as he
aimed his own weapon Gold-nose, dropping to the ground, fired
a bolt which tore open Bugardoig's great corded neck Bugardoig
toppled like a tree and fell upon Dwyddion, who fretfully pulled
himself free and crawled away, while Bugardoig lay pumping \ivid
red blood across the stones

Gersen fired again Gold-nose ]erked, cursed, rolled over the

832 THE DEMON PRINCES

edge of the viaduct. Gersen rose to stand in a wary crouch, watching
for motion. Treesong had halted his remarkable multivocal yam-
mer; Gersen ran a few steps forward and searched over the declivity,
hoping to surprise Treesong. He saw nothing. Treesong had evi-
dently taken shelter behind a squat boulder of gneiss.

Gersen ran crouching across the viaduct. He saw motion and
dropped flat. A bolt sizzled through the air a foot above his head.
Gersen fired his projac; rock splinters sprayed the head and neck
of Gold-nose, who screamed in pain. He lost his footing and slipped
down the slope. Gersen watched in fascination as Gold-nose rolled,
slid, and tumbled, slowly gathering momentum to become a top-
pling limp object, bounding, rolling, falling free to strike the rock
walls, glance away, and disappear into the murk.

Gersen clambered back upon the viaduct, in time to see a smalt
airboat raise from the landing-plat and slant into the sky. Howard
Alan Treesong had not taken shelter behind the boulder; he had
crawled back through the rocks and so had made his escape.

For ten seconds Gersen stared after the airboat. So near, and
now so far. His intrigues and strategems gone for naught, and poor
Bugardoig a corpse, now drained of blood. He turned to Dwyddion,
who stood to the side, watching Gersen with an unreadable ex-
pression.

"Get into the ship," said Gersen gruffly. "We've got to leave
here in a hurry."

"I see no reason"

Gersen put his anger and frustration under icy control. "That
was Howard Alan Treesong. He came to kill you. He used a ship's
boat. Somewhere not too high hangs his ship; in fact it's already
dropping to pick him up. As soon as he's aboard, the ship will
destroy your house and us as well, if we are fools enough to wait."

Dwyddion gave a fatalistic shrug, but made no further protest.
The Flittef-wmg rose into the sky and flew off to the west. Down
from the clouds eased a dark hull, toward Voymont. "There's his
ship. We're not away too soon."

"I understand none of this," gloomed Dywddion. "It is an out-
rage that I, who seek only seclusion, should be harassed, coerced,
and inconvenienced.

"Sad," said Gersen. "Still, if it's any satisfaction to youand
to Bugardoigwe have blown Treesong's master plan sky-high,
and we have also shot him in the leg."

THE BOOK OF HRK4MS

833

"What plan is this?"

"With you dead, he would have become Triune. He's already
tried for the IPCC and failedalthough the way is still open to
him. He rules the criminals of all the major worlds. There is his
power base. In ten years he would be emperor of the Oikumene."

"Humm ... At Pontefract, before the day is out, I'll appoint a
new Dexad. The man is a megalomaniac'"

"He is all of that." Gersen reflected upon Howard Treesong's
outcries in what seemed a multitude of voices. "He is something
very strange indeed."

Three recollections, vivid beyond all others, in connection with
Dwyddion's house on the Voymont persisted with Gersen to haunt
him all the days of his life.

First, the Pntz itself, hunched to the attack of a thousand fu-
rious lightning bolts, and Airy Gulch, reverberating to wind and

thunder.

Second, the corpse of Bugardoig, face astounded by the un-
thinkable tragedy which had overtaken him, his topknot daubed red

with his own blood.

The third recollection, strange and marvelous, would be the
many-voiced babble of lamentations and threats produced by How-
ard Treesong as he lay among the rocks. "by the sibyls of Hades,
such pain'" "no matter, no matter" "that mad dog; who
knows him=" "Not 1 " "Nor I." "Enough' Elhur padache^ "Staunch

Green'"

The Flittefwing once again swung high around Vega. Dwyddion
sat stiff and resentful, mouth drooping, face glum. Presently he
began to turn sidelong glances toward Gersen. But Gersen sat in
silence, occupied with his own problems.

At last Dwyddion broke the silence. In a dignified voice he said-
"I would be interested in learning the reason for your involvement
in this business."

"There's no great mystery," said Gersen. "I hold something of
a grudge against Treesong. It's as simple as that."

Dwyddion managed a sour chuckle. "Something of a grudge,
eh^ What occurs when you're seriously offended? . . Well, no mat-
ter, I suppose I should feel grateful to you."

"Probably so."

I HE BOOK OF DREAVIS

"Ah, you concur^ Then allow me formally to tender my grat-
itude. ... I may have been solitary tor too long a time. For a fact,
with the Dexad destroyed, I have no further cause for isolation
The secret now is known only to me."

Dwyddion sat musing and twitching his long white fingers.
Now that he had started talking he found it hard to contain his
loquacity. "You probably wonder why I chose isolation From bit-
terness and disillusionmentthere is the answer. Or, if you prefer,
I learned 'the Secret.' Perhaps I was callow, perhaps naivebut no
one had ever faulted my zeal. There was never such a swotsman.'
I was very early selected as an 'Exemplar' and cited for my 'nobility
and ease'; I spent all my time at monstrances and on walking tours.
I've trudged a thousand landscapes, I've exhorted countless granges.
The places T've seen' Berenskaya, Kotop, the Long Hills, Old
Home and Prairie Lands, the Green Star Swantees, the Polders of
Pedder-Dulah: I've walked them all' I was |ailed at Chlodie on Mar-
skens; the Factors of Pollardich on Copus shaved my head, I be-
came resident Thwarterman at Vasconcelles. Perhaps you recall the
crusade against electric sports m Mvra, on the south continent ot
Alphanor5 What is its name^"

"Trans-Iskana."

"Do you remember the crusade^"

"No."

"I led the march and we did great things, but not without suf-
fering. Oh' when I recall the toil, the heat, the derision and abuse,
not to mention insects, crawlers, and bane-bugs' But we thrust on
through to Cattlesbury and won the day. . . . How long ago it
seems' And suddenly I was rank fifty, and sixty' I directed the cam-
paign against pesticides on Wirfil; I worked as liaison officer with
the Peas and Beaners at New Gorcherum, I served with the Natural
Jungle League ofArmongol. All considered me the definition of an
Institute activist; I was compelling, trenchant, sublimely assured
that my ideals were the best of all possible ideals. My rank soared
aloft- through the eighties and nineties and now no more cam-
paigns, no more programsnow I was concerned with policy. I had
time to rest, to think. I went before the Dexad, I watched their
deliberations and I )omed their banquets, and at last I was appointed
ninety-nine. Suddenly I was in line for the Dexad I met the other

1 Institute argut <i person who energeucaily strnes [Q climb the ranks r,ipidl\

836 THE DEMON PRINCES

ninety-nines, my rivals and my peers One was Benjamin Wroke, a
person not unlike myself", who had arrived at his status much as I
had We had much in common, yet we never achieved full amica-
bilitv which, after all, could not be expected when three men vie
for the Dexad The other ninety-nine called himself Sparkhammer.
He was a man I could not fathom, he was impenetrable to the usual
processes of analysis I found him by turns charming, repellent,
soothing, infuriating He demonstrated both competence and con-
fidence, his decisions were effortless He might have been consid-
ered a certainty for the Dexad, except for a certain flamboyance
which hurt his chances Both Benjamin Wroke and Silas Sparkham-
mer yearned for the DexadSparkhammer almost shamefully so
Cloyd Free, rank one hundred four, died in the Kankashee |ungles
The Dexad voted in Benjamin Wroke and brought Sabor Vidol up
to ninety-nine Sparkhammer could barely conceal his fury Only
two weeks later, Hassamide was murdered by a Thracian footpad.
I was elevated into the Dexad and lan Bilfred was raised to ninety-
nine Sparkhammer congratulated me with grace and composure;

in truth, he was far too anxious and everyone knew it. As for me,
the Dexad meant nothing I perceived suddenlyin the space of
ten secondsthat this supreme achievementI refer to member-
ship in the Dexadwas factitious. I had overshot my goals. I saw
my old self as a child playing games It was a point of view, so I
now suspected, in which the Dexad quite concurred I had invested
thirty-two years of toil and sacrifice in a cause which the leadership
regarded at best with indulgent approval. Mind you, these were the
best intellects of the Oikumene, they were neither corrupt nor dis-
honest' I gradually understood that in the processes of maturity and
wide purview, they discerned that the strength and virtue of the
Institute lay not in its goals, nor in the hopeful achievement of these
goals, but in its operative function as a system into which persons
like myself could spend their energies, and in so doing leaven an
otherwise ponderous society "

Dwyddion paused and stared off along an avenue of memories,
his mouth trembling in a bitter smile Gersen asked "You changed,
so you say, in a space often seconds Was that not abrupt7"

"Yes .  Well, why should you not know5 I was approached by
Rob Martiletto, the one hundred eight He said 'Dwyddion, you
are now Dexad Needless to say you have earned the rank May I

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 837

ask if, in your appraisal of the Dexad, you have noticed what I shall
call a transcendental serenity7'

" 'Yes, I have noticed something of the sort I ascribed it to age
and a waning of energy '

" 'That is not altogether the explanation The jump from
ninety-nine to one hundred one is farther than from, say, seventy
to ninety-nine This is because the Dexad shares a secret, which
now I will impart to you In the Dexad you advance a long step
past the rationale which brought you up to ninety-nine The new
ideology is contained in the Secret' He then told me the Secret.
The ten seconds to which I referred passed by I said, 'Sir, not only
can I not endorse your views, I will not seaf myself with the Dexad.
In short, I now and forever resign from the Institute '

" 'Not possible' You have sworn to serve for the duration of
your days, and so you must'

'* 'Good-bye,' I said 'You will see me never again '

" 'W^here are you going7'

" 'Where no one will ever come to seek me out *

"Martiletto showed neither surprise nor resentment, in fact he
seemed amused 'Well then, do as you must Solitude may bring
you a new perspective '

"I went away I sought and found solitude, and I must say it
has been until today the most peaceful time of my life "

"And the Secret7"

"It is implicit in what I have said The Dexad perceived society
as separated into three elements In order of consequence, they
were humanity at large, the Institute, and the Dexad Humanity
and the Institute were seen as opposing forces in a state of dynamic
equilibrium I he Dexad functioned to maintain the tension, and to
prevent either side from overwhelming the other The Dexad
therefore has often acted in opposition to the Institute, creating
situations constantly to outrage and stimulate the membership.
That is the Secret "

"Now you are Triune, and you will appoint a new Dexad. How
do you regard this point of view7"

Dwyddion uttered a short bleak laugh "I have discovered
something about myself The Secret embarrassed me. I saw myself
across thirty two \ears the earnest swotsman, the sweating dupe
controlled by Institute cant, reverent toward Triune and Dexad,
contemptuous of the general population Then I learned the Secret,

THE DEMON PRINCES

838

to my distress. Now that I am Triune, 1 must either impart the
Secret to the next Dexad or suppress it."

Gersen said, "You are not yet free of Treesong. Today he was
thwarted and hurt. He will be crazy for revenge."

"Revenge?" cried Dwyddion, with as much ordinary human
emotion as Gersen had yet seen him display. "When he came to
kill me? Absurd. It is I who demand revenge, for the murder of my
fellows, for the great indecency perpetrated upon the Institute."

"Let me offer advice," said Gersen. "At Pontefract you must
make a public disclosure of events. The role of Silas Sparkhammer,
ninety-ninth of the Institute, will no longer be possible for Tree-
song."

"I intended to make a statement."

"The sooner the better. In fact, when we reach the Pontefract
spaceport, we can call into Cosmopolis."

10

Feature article in Pontefract Clarion:

INSTITUTE TRIUNE DESCRIBES
FANTASTIC MURDER BANQUET

Accused: Howard Alan Treesong

Entire Leadership Poisoned; Plot to Control Institute
Ascribed to Notorious "King of Criminals," "Demon
Prince" Howard Alan Treesong.

"I personally escaped death by a combination of luck, quick
thinking, and the assistance of my aide," declared Dwyd-
dion, formerly of Institutional rank 101 and now Triune, a
title indicating rank 111. "I did not attend the banquet,"
said Dwyddion. "I learned of the event through Institute
intelligence. I was informed that the notorious criminal
Treesong, by some means, had preempted to himself rank
99, naturally not in his own identity. He called himself
Sparkhammer, and in due course I will discover the decep-
tion by which he gained rank 99.

"Needless to say, his spurious ranking is canceled.

"I have appointed a new Dexad from a roster of authentic
rankings. The work of the Institute proceeds.

"I did not attend the murder banquet, for a number of
reasons. The Dexad and the Triune met at Wild Isle, on
the planet Cytherea Tempestre, to elevate one of three 99s
to the Dexad; and to enjoy a banquet including charnay,

THE DEMON PRINCES

which is a delicacy known only on Cytherea. I have tasted
eharnay and find it delectable, but if not prepared properly
it is a deadly poison.

"Howard Alan Treesong obtained eharnay, extracted the
poison, injected it into the already prepared, certified
wholesome fruit, which was then served to Triune, Dexad,
and the candidate 99s. Treesong himself abstained from
eating, or perhaps ate wholesome fruit. Benjamin Wroke,
rank 102, who like myself chose not to attend the banquet,
was subsequently drowned by Treesong.

"Why did he perform such an atrocious act, when he still
might have been elevated into the Dexad? Because twice
already he had been passed over, and probably had received
information that he was to be rejected again, in favor of
either Vidol or Bilfred. When a 99 is gainsaid for the third
time he must face the bitter fact that he will never attain
the Dexad, and so might as well retire from candidacy.

"Treesong chose, rather, to murder all ranks above him,
whence, by Institute law, he ascended to the highest rank
left open: in this case only 109, until I could be disposed
of. I, naturally, being of higher rank, would precede him to
Triune."

Gersen rubbed his face with sallow skin tone, arranged a hairpiece
of effusive black curls over his own short black pelt, and donned
his exquisite garments, to achieve once more the semblance of an
indolent wastrel.

He set off across Tara Square. The day was gray, and a gray
mist hung on the air. The folk of Pontefract marched stolidly past.
Their black and brown costumes made a muted richness against the
wet stone and old black iron.

Gersen turned into Corrib Place, halted to inspect the Extant
offices. Nothing seemed amiss. The aged structure, black with
grime, seemed as placid as ever. The duration of his absence could
be measured in hours; the psychological time seemed far longer.
... He crossed the street, entered the building, and went directly
to the contest workroom. Today, so he recalled, saw the end of the

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

841

contest; the workload had decreased significantly and only a half
dozen sacks of mail lay in the bin.

Mrs. Ench bustled forward to greet him. "Good morning, Mr.
Lucas!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Ench. Any startling developments?"

"Not yet, Mr. Lucas. The Cytherea entry is still the closest.
But have you seen the newspapers this morning? It's absolutely
remarkable!"

"Yes, most amazing."

"How will it affect our contest?"

"In no way whatever, or so I hope. We are lucky that our dead-
line is today. Otherwise we might have multitudes of opportunistic
winners."

"We still might have some."

"We'll simply have to judge each entry on its own merits."

"Quite right, Mr. Lucas."

Gersen turned away but Mrs. Ench called him hack. "Oh, Mr.
Lucas, one interesting letterat least I consider it interesting. I set
it aside for you, since it concerns our number six." She handed
Gersen an envelope.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ench." Gersen read the letter. "Interesting!"
He read the letter a second time. "I suppose it has no particular
bearing on our contest, as the newspapers have established Spark-
hammer's true identity."

"My feeling exactly. Our contest seems remarkably timely. Is
it all a coincidence?"

Gersen laughed politely. "In case anyone asks, we are all dumb-
founded by the new developments."

"No one has asked, but many may be wondering."

"That's as may be. The publicity can't do Extant any harm."

Gersen went on into the front office. Alice sat quietly at her
desk. She wore a simple black shirt and jacket, upon which the tips
of her orange hair rested and then curved upward. At the sight of
Gersen she made an abrupt motion toward the newspaper on her
desk, then restrained herself.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas."

"Good morning, Alice. You've seen the news, evidently."

Alice feigned no misunderstanding. "Yes." She looked down at
the journal. "It isinteresting."

"No more than that?"

THE DEMON PRINCES

842

Alice only gave a noncommittal shrug.

Gersen said, "Treesong is a terrible man. He is one of the
'Demon Princes/ "

"I have heard the name, certainly," said Alice stiffly.

Gersen said, "There's mention of a 'Benjamin Wroke' who
drowned in the Shanaro Sea. I hope that he is no connection of

yours."

Alice looked up with somber eyes, then turned away. "Yes. He
is a close connection."

"That's a great pity. You have my sincere sympathy."

Alice made no reply. Gersen went to his desk. He sat down and
studied Alice's profile. "I still wish very much to meet Howard Alan
Treesong."

Alice's chin rose an eighth inch. She spoke a bitter monosyl-
lable. "Why?"

"He is now more than ever a superb subject for an interview."

Alice lowered her chin to its original position. "Do you think
it wise to publicize the exploits of such a man?"

"Certainly. Sooner or later he will come to a bad end. How do
such men function? What are their motivations? How does he re-
gard himself?"

"He would never allow you to write undignified things about

him."

"He could write the copy himself, for all I care. What with the
contest and the murders, we'd sell a hundred million copies."

Alice abruptly rose to her feet. "I don't feel well. If there's
nothing for me to do, I think I'll rest for an hour or two."

"Just as you like," said Gersen. He rose politely to his feet. "I
hope you're better soon."

"Thank you." With a final swift glance toward Gersen, skep-
tical and dubious, Alice left the office.

Gersen sat back. He brought out the letter tendered him by
Mrs. Ench and read it for the third time.

Director of Extant Contest:

Please consider this letter as my entry in your contest.
I can definitely identify one person in the photograph.
This entitles me to one-tenth of a share in the contest

prize, which I claim.

That person marked "Number 6" was born at Home

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

843

Farm, near Gladbetook, in the Land of Maunish. He was
named by his mother Howard Alan, after the television wiz-
ard H. A. Topfinn and Arblezanger, in remembrance other
grandfather. With his patronymic he was and is Howard
Alan Arblezanger I lardoah and so do I identify him. He has
not been a close son, and indeed left us some years ago. I
have heard that he is successful and doing well and I hope
to see him shortly at the school reunion to which he has
been invited.

In any case, I render this identification and I will expect
my share of the contest money at once.
I am Adrian Hardoah,

at Home Farm

Gladbetook, Land of Maunish

Moudervelt

Van Kaathe's Star

Gersen reflected a moment, then called Information Service.
Moudervelt he found to be the only populated planet of Van Kaa-
the's Star. It was a world somewhat larger than Earth, with a single
continent sprawling two-thirds of the way around the equator. The
world was old and its soil was mellow. The mountain ranges of its
youth had eroded low, leaving wide prairies and meandering rivers.
Moudervelt had first been settled by a variety of small groups: re-
ligious sects, clans, sporting associations, philosophical societies,
and the like. They had quickly exterminated the race of semi-
intelligent beings in residence, parceled out tracts of land, estab-
lished frontiers for their 1,562 realms, and for century after century
occupied themselves with their own affairs. The Land of Maunish
occupied a section of the Goshen Prairie, in the eastern midlands
of the great continent. The capital, Cloutie, maintained a popula-
tion of three thousand. Eighty miles north in F'luter Township on
the banks of the W^iggal River was Gladbetook, with a population
of three thousand. Maunish had been settled by the Partitioners of
the Pure Truth; the Teachings discouraged space travel, and the
nearest spaceport lay three hundred miles south, at Theobald Sta-
tion, in the Land of Leiander.

Gersen turned away from the communicator. Howard Tree-
song had been born a country boy, in one of the most placid back-
waters of the human universe. Gersen decided, upon reflection, that

844

THE. DEMON PRINCES

the fact had no general significance. There were many country boys
who never became criminals.. . . He turned back to the commu-
nicator and made connection with room 442 at St. Diarmid's Inn.
Alice would be arriving at her own room just about now.

His timing was exact. He heard the door open and Alice's steps
as she crossed the room. For a few moments she moved here and
there, rather listlessly, then came to rest.

She sat five minutes arranging her thoughts. Then he heard her
speaking, in a voice resolute and steady. "Alice Wroke here."

A minute passed. Then Howard Treesong's voice replied, in
tones strident and harsh: "Yes, Alice, I hear you. What have you
accomplished?"

"As much as possible."

"I am satisfied only with achievement."

"Where is my father? According to the newspapers he is dead."

"Do not presume to question me. Make your report."

"1 can report only what you already know. Mr. Lucas told me
again that he is anxious to interview you."

The voice became even more harsh. "He knows you are in

contact with me?"

"Certainly not. He is as callous as you are. He wants to publish
your biography, or your autobiography, so that he can sell a hun-
dred million copies of his journal."

"And he considers me an altruist?"

"I doubt that, but then I am only reporting his remarks. Do as

you see fit."

"Just so."

Alice hesitated, then asked, "The contest is over. I have kept
to the terms of my bargain. Is my father truly dead?"

Treesong's voice, changing once more, became flat yet throaty,
acrid yet thick. "You now know my name."

"Yes."

"And you know who I am."

"I have heard of you."

"Perhaps you divined my great scheme."

"You planned to be Triune of the Institute."

The stridency returned to Treesong's voice. "That plan has
hatefully and viciously been thwarted. Benjamin Wrokewho was
he? WTiat did he matter? Naturally he is dead, and why did I trouble
myself? The plan is broken, by the journalists and their contest!"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

845

"So he has gone?"

"Who? Wroke? How could you think otherwise?"

"You assured me otherwise."

A rasping laugh. "People believe whatever they want to be-
lieve."

"I am now done with you."

"Go your way. You are destructively beautiful; you have
brought dissent among the colors of my soul. Red lusts; Blue feels
a melancholy longing, while Green would cause you pain. But noth-
ing will be done; I have taken injury and I suffer. There is no time;

also you have soiled yourself; you bedded with the journalist.
Granted, at my behest, but you should have pleaded and made out-
cry."

"I showed poor judgment," said Alice tartly.

When Treesong responded his voice was stern and sullen. "I
am about to depart. Vega has not been kind; nor was it ever. I am
wounded and sore, but in due course I will set things straightand
then! My pain will be remedied a thousand times over."

"WTiat happened to you?" Alice spoke with ingenuous interest.

"We met ambush. A demon in the shape of a man sprang out
ofDwyddion's house and fired his projac into my leg."

"I should think you'd be expecting such things."

Treesong seemed not to hear the remark. Another brief silence,
then a new voice, clever and electric: "The Extant contest ends
tomorrow?"

"No. Today."

"And there is yet no winner?"

"That's correct."

"Then these are your instructions: Do not call me again."

"I am free of you! Save your instructions!"

Treesong ignored the interruption. "Continue as before." But
the conversation had ended.

At noon Vega burnt away the overcast, leaving the sky suffused with
bright milky haze. Alice returned to the office looking pale and
drawn.

"You're feeling better, I hope?" asked Gersen.
"Yes, thank you." She went to her desk and seated herself. She
had changed into a gray-green frock with a prim white collar which
her orange curls barely brushed: the colors of some exotic desert

THE DEMON PRINCES

846

flower, thought Gersen. She became aware of his attention and gave
him a quick glance. "Is there anything I should do?"

"Not really. The contest is essentially over. There have been
interesting developments, don't you think?"

"Definitely so."

"Still, it's not much better than a standoff. Treesong failed to
take over the Institute. On the other hand, he's still alive and his
career goes on. Your father is dead, which is your private tragedy.
If you had known that Sparkhammer was Howard Alan Treesong,
you could never have hoped otherwise."

Alice turned in her chair to stare at Gersen. "How did you
know that Benjamin Wroke was my father?"

"It's on your application," said Gersen. He smiled a rather lame
smile. "Also, not to put too fine a point on it, I tapped into your
conversations with Treesong."

Alice sat like a statue. "Then you knew"

"From the moment you walked into the office. Even before. I
knew when I saw you across the street."

Alice flushed suddenly pink. "And you must have known . .."

"So I did."

"But still..."

"What would you think of me if I had taken advantage of you?"

Alice showed a strained, meaningless smile. "What difference
does it make what I think?"

"I don't want your self-esteem to be damagedespecially for
the wrong reasons."

"This is an idiotic conversation," said Alice. She rose to her
feet. "And it is idiotic for me to stay here any longer."

"Where are you going?"

"Away. Am I not discharged?"

"Of course not! I admire your courage! WTien I look across the
room, I like to see you sitting there. Furthermore"

The desk communicator chimed. Gersen touched a button; a
voice spoke: "Howard Alan Treesong calling Henry Lucas."

"Henry Lucas here. Do you have a face?"

"I do indeed." Upon the screen appeared an image: a face with
a high square forehead, clear hazel eyes, a fine straight nose. long
chin, w^de easy mouth, an expression of prideml verve and vivacity.
Gersen pulled the black curls of his hairpiece forward and down
across his white cheeks, half closed his eyes and dropped his jaw,

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

in order to project an impression of aristocratic languor. Alice
watched in sardonic amusement as Gersen transmitted the image
to Howard Treesong.

The two men studied each other. Treesong spoke in a rich
flowing voice. "Mr. Lucas, I have been following your contest with
interest, since, as you know, I am included in the photograph."

"So I understand. Naturally it augments popular interest in the
event."

Treesong said airily: "I am not sure whether or not you intend
to flatter me."

"For the purposes of this occasion I am a journalist, which is
to say, an automaton, without personal feelings."

"If so, then you are unusual. But no matter. Since you make
no specific bans or debarments, I wish to submit my personal so-
lution to your contest. Be kind enough to note my identifications,
or better, ask your remarkably beautiful secretary to do so."

Gersen said thoughtfully, "I doubt if this could be considered
regular procedure. All our other entries have- arrived in written
form."

"You make no stipulation to this effect, so why should not a
verbal identification be valid? I can use the prize money as well as
the next person."

"Quite so. Our award ceremony takes place shortly. If you were
adjudged the winner, could you be on hand to accept the prize?"

"A bit awkward, I'm afraid. Unless the occasion were celebrated
in the far Beyond."

"That might be troublesome, from our point of view."

"Then you must send the money to an address which I will
supply. Now for the identifications."

"Quite so, quite so ... Alice, take notes."

"I wi\\ identify as you have numbers. One is Sharrod Yest. Two
is that acidulous harridan Dianthe de Trembuscule. Three, the cor-
pulent Beatrice Utz. Four is the once-voluble lan Bilfred, whose
agile tongue, alas, is now forever stilled. Five is the overeager Sabor
Vidol. Six is that person known on this occasion as Sparkhammer,
but more generally known as Howard Alan Treesong. Seven is John
Gray. Eight is that otiose lummox the Triune, Gadouth. Nine is
Gieselman; ten, Martiletto. I hope that I am the first correctly to
identify these folk."

"I'm afraid not. As soon as Dwyddion's revelations were made

848

THE DKMON PRINCES

public, dozens of opportunists swarmed into our office with correct

identifications."

"Pah! Greed is rampant everywhere! Another score to be set-
tled with Dwyddion!"

"Something may still be salvaged. I want to publish your bi-
ography, at terms to be arranged. You are a unique individual and
your memoirs should interest our readers."

"It is something to think about. I have often felt the need to
express my views. The public regards me as a criminal- By ordinary
definition, 1 am a very paragon of the trade; I recognize no peer.
By the very nature of my accomplishments, I have created a new
category by which I and I alone may be judged. I will not now

enlarge upon the idea."

"In any case, public interest will not be diminished."

"I must consider the matter carefully. I don't like to station
myself in a designated place at a specific time. If you w^ll reflect
upon the conditions of my existence, you will perceive that the need
for vigilance is one of its very few disadvantages."

"Yes, so it would seem."

"Certain folk do not yield gracefully to my instructions; they
thereby incur penalties. This is sheer simple fact. I am meticulous
in regard to rewards and penalties, I assure you. I usually take the
rewards and others must make do with the penalties, but no matter.
Is not the cosmos a more vital and adventurous place for my pres-
ence? Of course! I am indispensable."

"All this will fascinate my readers. I hope you agree to the

interview."

"We shall see. At the moment I am pressed for time. I have a
rendezvous to keep upon a distant planet and 1 must make my ar-
rangements. That is all for now."

The screen went dim. Gersen leaned back in his chair. "Tree-
song seems to have an elastic disposition."

"He changes from minute to minute," said Alice. "He terrifies
me. Still, I hope to see him at least once again."

Gersen was intrigued by her lackluster voice. "Why so?"

"I'll try to kill him."

Gersen stretched his arms into the air. The narrow-shouldered
coat constricted him. He pulled it off and threw it aside. Then he
took off his hairpiece and threw it after the coat. .Alice watched him
sidelong, but made no comment.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

849

"He is cautious," said Gersen. "I was lucky to get a single shot
at him out on the Voymont."

In a soft wondering voice Alice asked, "Who are you?"

"In Pontefract I'm known as Henry Lucas, a writer for Cos-
mopolis. Sometimes I use a different name and do different things."

"Why?"

Gersen rose, sauntered across the room to her desk. He reached
under her arms, pulled her up so that her face was close. He kissed
her forehead, her nose, her mouth, to which she remained passive.

He eased the pressure of his arms. "If Treesong calls to ask
about me, you can't tell him if you don't know."

"I will tell him nothing in any case. He has no more power
over me."

Gersen kissed her again, to which she yielded but again made
no response. She drew back. "Then you want me to remain here?"

"Very much so."

She turned and drew away from him. "I have nothing better to
do."

"Then you'll be here when I get back?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going out to a strange old world, to take part in a social
occasion."

"Where Howard Treesong is going?"

"Yes. I'll tell you all about it when I return."

Alice asked wistfully, "When will that be?"

"I don't know." Gersen kissed her again, and now she re-
sponded, and for a moment relaxed against him. Gersen kissed the
top other head. "Good-bye."

11

Life^ Introduction to Volume II,
by Baron Bodissey Unspiek:

As we traverse the river of human time in our wonder
boats, we notice recurring patterns in the now of peoples
and civilizations.. . . The disparate races coalesce only
when territory is limited, cramped, and crowded, with corn-
pressive social pressures. Strong, exact governments are
typical of these circumstances; they are both necessary and
welcome. Conversely, when land is vast and easily available,
as in the broaching of a new continent or a new world,
nothing can keep different sorts of people in close contact.
They migrate to new places and particularize, whereupon
languages mutate, costumes and conventions elaborate, aes-
thetic symbols take on fresh meanings. Now the public
mood turns inward; government imposed from another
place cannot be tolerated. The processes, as the race wan-
ders from its native star, are of infinite richness and a source
of endless fascination.. . .

Mouderuek: Then and NOTV, from Studies in Comparative
Anthropology, by Russell Cooke;

Had the astute Baron chosen to adorn his famous In-
troduction to Volume II with examples, he might well have
selected the remote world Moudervelt, orbiting Van Kaa-
the's Star, as a felicitous paradigm for the illumination of
his general principle.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS 851

Moudervelt is a world benign and fertile, with an ex-
pansive land area. The flora is generally compatible with
Earth stock; the fauna offers no menace except for a few
predatory sea creatures.

Moudervelt is an old world. The ancient mountain
ranges are now forested hills; rolling plains extend horizon
to horizon, under blue skies and flotillas of tall white cu-
mulus. Great slow rivers wander the prairies, where the soil
is deep and the climate fair. Except for rivers, the land lacks
natural boundaries, but boundaries and borders aplenty *
have been created, to delineate 1,562 separate dominions,
each jealous of its identity, each cherishing its own roteh
and rites, each celebrating its distinctive cuisine and scorn-
ing all others as filth and scum, each considering itself the
single home of civilization among 1,562 barbaric, incom-
prehensible, and unpleasant neighbors.

Moudervelt knows no true cities. Most of the lands
maintain a spaceport. Commerce is carried on the rivers,
which are all interconnected by canals. Only a few land
routes connect the states.

Moudervelt is by no means isolated from the universe.
It exports a considerable quantity of special foodstuffs for
the use of former inhabitants,1 and imports technical goods,
special tools, a few books and periodicals: in total bulk, no
great amount. Moudervelt by and large is self-sufficient.

From Popular Handbook to the Planets, 330th edition,
1525: Moudervelt, Van Kaathe's Star;

(After the usual exposition of physical data and an his-
torical summary, the text devotes a paragraph or two to
each of the 1,562 dominions.)

Maunish, at the center of Goshen Prairie, occupies an
area of about 40,000 square miles and supports a population
of about a million, descended from a mission of the Pure
Truth Partition. The area is bounded bv the Dalglish River
on the south and east, by the Land of Puck to the west,

1. Ships trading in offworld fuods roam even where .leniss the settled worlds- Old Earth
supplies perhaps a third of all such comestibles. The wines of Earth are especially prized.

852

THE DEMON PRINCES

Amable and the River Bohuloe on the north, the lands of
Ganaster and Erquhar to the east. The principal town is

Cloutie.

Notice to Offworld Arrivals: There are no spaceports
within the confines of Maunish. Indeed, space vessels, air-
craft, hoppers, or sky-riders flying at an elevation over
forty-nine feet are prohibited. Entry must be made by
surface transportation at an authorized checkpoint. Border
controls are strict, as are import regulations. Bring in no
weapons, intoxicants, erotic materials, medicines, except
those personally required. Border searches are thorough;

penalties are severe.

Gersen lowered the Flittefwing down upon Theobald Station.
Farmlands punctuated by white houses spread away from the town
in all directions. The Dalglish River crawled in great loops across
the landscape, finally to swerve to the north and disappear.

The spaceport projected no detectable beacon or signal. Gersen
isolated it from adjacent fields only by virtue of three spacecraft
already on hand; a pair of small cargo carriers and a bedraggled old

Sissle Wandcf-way.

Gersen landed the Flittefwing, made his usual arrangements,
and jumped to the ground. He found himself at the center of a
sunny open field sodded with blue-green turf. Cool country air blew
in his face; there was no sound except for a slight hiss from the
Flitterwings recharging respirators. A hundred yards across the
field, shaded under a pair of sprawling trees, he saw a small shed,
upon which rested a sign:

Central Space Terminal
Theobald Station, Land of Leiander
All Incoming Traffic Report Here

Inside the shed Gersen discovered a small fat man dozing at a
table, the remains of his lunch spread before him. He wore what
once had been a smart uniform of black, tan, and red twill; but for
breeches and boots he had substituted a white knee-length skirt and

sandals.

Gersen rapped on the table; the official woke abruptly. Almost

before opening his eyes he groped for his cap and pulled it over his

THE BOOK OF DKE.4MS 853

balding pate. He looked Gersen over with a bland expression.
"Sir?"

"I am an item of 'Incoming Traffic.' The sign directed me
here."

"Yes. Yes indeed. Well, there are a few formalities incident to
entry. . .." He secured a form, put questions to Gersen, noted the
responses.

He completed the form and filed it in a box. "That is all, sir,
except for the landing fee."

Gersen said, "First, a bit of information. I am actually en route
to Maunish; are there any hindrances to travel?"

"None whatever. The borders are open."

"I can rent a vehicle?"

"Certainly. I will rent you my own car, and my son will drive
you."

Gersen's ears were attuned to almost imperceptible hints and
implications. He looked sharply at the official. "At what rent?"

"Ohnothing unreasonable. Ten SVU per diem."

"No extra charges or supplements?"

"None. Do you take me for a scarper?"

"He will drive me to Cloutie and elsewhere in Maunish at my
convenience?"

The official showed an expression of indignant wonder. "Into
Maunish? You must be joking! To the Maunish border, no farther!
How could I risk my car in that nation of stoneheads, where girls
strut around with bare elbows and men show their teeth while eat-
ing? They drive like catatonics; the air stinks with their pickled
ramp. To the border, no farther. Perhaps you can secure onward
transportation at that point."

"Well then, what are the public conveyances between the two
countries?"

"Nothing to suit a wealthy offworlder. You would be forced to
ride the Trans-World bus with bumpkins returning to Maunish."

"That will suit me well enough. I have ridden in worse com-
pany."

"If that is your taste, you are in luck. The afternoon car passes
by in a matter of minutes. Now as to the landing fee, a vessel such
as yours is rated at two hundred SVU per week, payable a month
in advance."

Gersen laughed. "I have important friends in the neighbor-

1 HE DP MON PRINCES

854

hood. They warned me that public officers tend either to larceny
or daydreaming." He produced five SVU. "This will have to do."

The official took the money with poor grace. "It is not regular
but I suppose that exceptions are possible for the sake of good
public relations. . .. Yonder comes the Trans-World."

Along the road came a rickety triple-jointed omnibus, riding on
eight great air-wheels. Gersen flagged it down, paid another five
SVU to the driver, and found a seat.

For hours he rode across a gently rolling land of fields, rivers,
ponds, and orchards. White farmhouses sprawled under lumines-
cent foliage of pmk, rose red, orange, and yellow. The farmers
seemed prosperous; life could not be totally bad m the Land of
Leiander, even if the girls might not show their elbows.

A line of dark blue and black foliage wandered across the ho-
rizon, where the Dalglish River swung east to delineate the Maun-
ish frontier. A hundred yards short of the boundary the bus halted.
From a station house marched a sergeant and six soldiers in fine
uniforms.

The sergeant boarded the bus, put several questions to the op-
erator, who )erked his thumb toward Gersen.

The sergeant signaled to Gersen. "This way, sir, for )ust a mo-
ment. Bring your luggage."

Gersen took his small traveling bag and followed the sergeant
from the bus and into a shed. The sergeant took the bag, netted it,
looked at Gersen with a smile "I see that you are attempting to
smuggle a Model 6A pro)ac into Maumsh." He untaped a pair of
grips from the handle to the traveling bag. "This is not a new trick,
we are alert for it. Here I merely confiscate the weapon. Across on
Maumsh you would be placed in a cage, submerged in the river for
three hours, or until you were thoroughly drowned. They are bar-
bancally strict in this regard. Give me the other parts, please."

Gersen opened the bag and produced the other components,
which he had disguised by various methods. "There you are, Ser-
geant. I thank you for your warning." He )erked his right forearm
and a throwing blade appeared in his hand "You had also better
take custody of this." He shook his left arm, producing an air-tube
for shooting glass needles. "And this "

"Very wise, sir."

"Please don't sell them at once If I return this wayand I plan
to do soI will buy them from you myself."

THE BOOK OF DRK'IMS

855

"That is often the situation, sir "

Gersen returned to the bus, which at once proceeded across the
wide Dalglish on an iron bridge and so entered the Land ofMaun-

ish.

The road slanted off across a marsh of brown mud and purple
reeds, passed through a grove of giant papaws which emitted a fetid
sweetness into the air, burst out into the sunlight, and now the
countryside had altered. Yonder, across the river was Leiander; here
was Maumsh; nothing was quite the same. The bus halted at the
Maumsh border station, in the shade of an enormous linglang tree,
with blue foliage and a gnarled contorted trunk six feet in diameter.
As before guards marched out to meet the bus. Here they wore
uniforms of gray and green instead of red, black, and tan. They
were a people notably different from the short, soft-featured Le-
landers, here they were tall, spare, with lank brown hair and bony
faces.

At a signal from the sergeant the passengers alighted and one
by one they entered a long shed, where each was examined and
searched at three separate stations. In Gersen's case they were brisk,
impersonal, and extremely thorough. They ignored his offworld or-
igin. His professed trade, |ournalism, aroused only slightly more
interest. "What do you expect to learn in Maunish?"

"Nothing of consequence. I am coming here as a tourist."

"Then why not call yourself a tourist^"

"It is no great matter, one way or the other."

"Perhaps not to a tourist, nor to a journalist, but we are security
officers responsible for the decency of Maunish. To us the roles are
very different. In the first place the tourist may stay at the Hotel
Bon Ton in Maumsh, while |ournalists must spend each night at
the police station."

"In that case I am definitely a profound tourist. I agree that the
differences are significant."

"Apparently you carry no contraband "

"Apparently not."

The official showed him a wintry smile. "You will discover that
many of our good Maunish customs become persuasively practical,
upon acquaintance. Stilland I can assure you of this, since I have
traveled widely; I have visited thirty-nine distinct and separate do-
mainsMaunish is a haven of tolerance compared to such as Mal-
chione or Dinkland. Our statutes are simple and reasonable. We

1HF DPMON PRINCES

856

forbid the advancement of polytheism and the display of white flags
We prohibit offensive belching and other breaches of the public
peace Our schedule of crimes is ordinary enough, you need only
conduct yourself with discretion to avoid trouble " He signed Ger-
sen's certificate of admission with a flourish "There you are, sir
The freedom ofMaumsh is yours'"

Gersen boarded the bus, which suddenly lurched into motion,
the border station under the sprawling blue linglang was left be-
hind The landscape was now that of Maunish, different from that
of Leiander, whether by reason of psychic shift or immanent char-
acter or altered references Gersen, who had experienced such shifts
many times before, had no way of knowing The country seemed
bigger, the sky more open In a new clarity of atmosphere the ho-
rizons seemed both far and near, in a curious visual paradox Along
the plain trees grew in private clusters and copses, each to its own
kind gmsaps, orpoons, linglangs, flamboys, the shadows below were
a dense darkling black which seemed to glimmer with a strange rich
color without a name The farmhouses were both less frequent and
older, high and narrow for no obvious reason, and set far back from
the road in )ealous seclusion   . The country became softer The
bus rolled through orchards with black trunks and effulgent pink
or yellow foliage, across brimming rivers, through hamlets, and at
last into Cloutie, to halt in the central square The sides swung up,
those passengers with business in Cloutie alighted, among them
Gersen He looked around him with interest To the young How-
ard Treesong Cloutie would ha\e seemed a most important place,
the center of the civilized universe, where he might be brought once
a year on some special occasion Across the square Gersen saw the
Hotel Eon I on, an ungainly four-story structure, high and narrow,
with a heavy overhanging roof and a pair of two-story w ings

If Howard I reesong were traveling to Gladbetook to take part
m his school reunion, quite possibly, like Gersen, he might choose
to lodge at the Bon Ton The time for caution had arrived, and
indeed might already have passed him by    At a haberdasher's
shop Cersen changed into local garments a shirt ot heav\ green
cloth, bag-breeches gathered at the knee, gra\ \\ool stockings and
black broad-toed shoes, a wide-brimmed, low-crowned black hat,
tilted somewhat to the back of the head Ihe local mannerisms
a slow stiff-legged gait with arms at the sides and face turned

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

857

squarely forwardwere less readily simulated He would still be
noticed as an outlander, but less readily

He crossed the square to the Bon Ton Hotel and entered a dim
lobby smelling of years upon years of waxed wood, moldenng
leather, heavy cushions, and unnameable local exudations The
lobby was deserted, the reception desk was dark Gersen knocked
at a wicket until a small old lady appeared from a back room. In a
shrill voice she demanded his business

Gersen replied with dignity "I wish to take lodging for a few
days "

"So indeed, where will you feed3"

"Wherever I find the best meals "

"Those are far away, over at the lake, where folk forget Stric-
ture and pamper their guts You must ingest what we choose to
serve here, in our dining room "

"Whatever is proper "

"It is very proper " The old woman peered at him slantwise
"What are you doing here5 Are you for selling things21" She con-
trived to invest the word with an emphasis at once lubncious and
minatory

"No, I am selling nothing "

"Oh " And after a pause, "Nothing whatever3"

"Nothing whatever "

"That's a pity," she declared in a voice suddenly bright and
garrulous. "I always say that a body should buy and sell as they
choose, despite the Health Agency W^here are you from3 I can't
place you You're not a Mandyke3 Nor a Booder3"

"None of those "

"Do you burn fires or pour waters3"

"No, never "

"Very well, you may have the Smiling Sunrise Room " The
woman's face became so beatifically innocent that Gersen instantly
was prompted to ask "W^hat are the rates3"

"It is our best room, reserved for important dignitaries It rents
at a corresponding level "

"How much3"

"Eighty-three SVU per diem "

"That is far too much Let me see your schedule of rates "

"Well then, five SVU   "

Gersen was pleased with his room, which included the lowest

THE DEMON PRINCES

858

of the central verandas, a bathroom paneled in white wood, an ad-
jacent sleeping cubicle, a small gymnasium.

The time was now late afternoon. Gersen descended to the
street, looked right and left, then set off to inspect the town. The
south end of the square was dominated by a stone statue and, be-
hind, a tall, austere structure, evidently a church or temple. A
plaque at the base of the statue identified the lordly form as Ban-
dervoum the Didram, who held aloft a carpenter's try square that
he might gauge the souls of the dead. Behind the church grew a
hne of heavy black deodars; gaps in the foliage revealed a field on
which stood a throng of white statues.

Near the church Gersen discovered a small stationer's shop sell-
ing a miscellaneicy of small objects. On a rack he noticed several
copies of Cosmopolis, of assorted dates, and an Extant. The Extant
cover displayed a picture of ten men and the caption:

WHO ARE THESE MEN?
NAME THEM CORRECTLY AND WIN
100,000 SVU!

Gersen entered the shop. Behind a pair of parallel counters, to
right and left, stood a pair of small girls, dressed in long-sleeved
black flocks. Their black hair was tied into topknots, so tightly
drawn that their eyes seemed to bulge. Into the hair a pair of coral-
russet fronds had been fixed. On the counter Gersen found for sale
a pamphlet entitled:

THE LAND OF MAUNISH
OFFICIAL MAP AND SURVEY

This authoritative rendering includes all roads, towns, riv-
ers, bridges, frontier posts, together with physiographic de-
tails.
Price: 25 centums.

Gersen took a copy of the map and paid over a coin. The girls
protested instantly: "Sir! The price is two SVU!"

Gersen indicated the printed notation. "The price is set at
twenty-five centums.n

"That is for local residents," said one girl.

"Outlanders must pay a surcharge," said the other.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

"Why is this?" asked Gersen, wondering how the girls knew
him for an outlander in his new Cloutie clothes.

"Because the map includes valuable secret information," said
the girl to the right in an earnest voice.

"Extremely valuable to an enemy army," said the girl to the
left, even more grave.

"But surely your enemies already possess maps ofMaunish?"

"Perhaps not all of our enemies."

"Perhaps not with so much secret detail."

"In that case," said Gersen, "your map is far more valuable than
a mere two SVU."

"True, but no one would pay such a price," said one girl.

"They would prefer to use any old thing," said the other girl.

"Well, it so happens that I am a local resident and not an en-
emy," said Gersen. "I live at the Bon Ton Hotel; therefore I am
eligible for the lower rate."

The girls stood silent, considering the theoretical basis ofGer-
sen's position; before they could formulate an argument, Gersen
was gone.

Gersen sat on a bench and studied the map. He found Glad-
betook forty miles to the north, on the banks of the Sweet Trelaw-
ney River.

Gersen continued around the square. .Along the way he noticed
a sign:

PANTILOTE GARAGES

Vehicles of Quality! Sale or Hire:

By HourBy DayBy Week

Apply at our correctly managed workshops. You will
observe and approve the dutiful exactitude of our pro-
cesses.

29 Didram Rummel Street

Gersen located Didram Rummel Street and the Pantilote Ga-
rages, where, after considerable formality, he succeeded in renting
a three-wheeled runabout, which had been constructed on the
premises from miscellaneous bits and pieces.

THF DEMON PRINCES

860

Evening was already darkening the skies. The way to Gladbe-
took seemed too long a )ourney. Gersen arranged to call for the
vehicle on the following morning, whereupon he would drive across
Goshen Prairie to the early home of Howard Alan Treesong.

12

From the Teaching of Didram Bodo Sime, 6.6

(Obloquies against the Toper and his Drink)

Motto

It is not good to inebriate nor to souse, using swillage,
near or far beers, or distillations

Expansion

The toper is a fuming bore, a loon, a mongrel, a social
mockery' Often he soils his clothes and commits mal-
ditties. He smells and belches, his familiarities trouble
all decent folk His songs and tirnlavs offend the ears
He often gives breath to scurrilous conjecture.

The toper suborns good fruit and gives it to decay, and
the good person who wishes to enjoy the samvacity and
good savor of the wholesome fruit is bereft and must
raise this outcry "Why have you despoiled me, 0
toper, of my fruit and given it to filthy decayrf

The toper performs foolish dances He postures like a
clown and cleans his ears with broomstraws He is
prone to perform pugnacities upon good and earnest
folk who chance to halt upon their way to chide him
for his fully

North of Cloutie the countryside became wild and desolate, first
because oftheJumfer River boglands, then b\ reason of long ledges
of black rock which made the land fit only for grazing For the first

862

THE DF.MON PRINCES

time Gersen saw indigenous fauna ofMoudervelt: two-legged toad-
like creatures bounding high after flying insects; a band of lizard-
foxes, with gray-green pangolin scales and a single optic orb. They
reared high to watch Gersen pass by; when he slowed the car they
advanced with dancing sidelong steps, for purposes Gersen could
not guess. He drove on, leaving the troop staring after him.

With the Rock-Wallows behind, the solitude persisted. Empty
steppes spread away to the horizon: a land gently rolling, without
trees, lonesome and forlorn in the sunlight.

Finally, across the north, appeared a dark line: the trees along
the banks of the Great Swomey River. Once across the river the
land again became settled. Gersen drove through half a dozen ham-
lets, as like to each other as eggs: a main street, a few cross streets,
an inn, several shops, a school to the side, a hall, a temple, a varying
number of houses and cottages.

Close on midmorning Gersen arrived at Gladbetook: a village
much like those others along the road, if perhaps a trifle larger, a
condition signaled by the Uankwal! Tavern on the outskirts of town
as well as the more pretentious Swecher's Inn on the central avenue.

Gersen halted the runabout to the side of Swecher's Inn, an
ancient agglomeration of twenty guest rooms of various sizes on
different levels- The public chambers were no less irregular, with
sloping ceilings, black woodwork, and windows stained violet by a
hundred years' exposure to Van Kaathe's Starlight. The stone ex-
terior could hardly be seen for vines. Along the front, citizens of
the town sat at their ease under an arbor.

At a desk in the entry hall stood a man seven feet tall and thin
as a cane, with waxen cheelcs and cavernous eye sockets. "Your

needs, sir?"

"Lodging, if you please. I prefer a suite of several rooms."

The innkeeper inspected Gersen with raised eyebrows and sag-
ging mouth. "You are alone?"

"Quite alone."

"And you want several rooms?"

"If such a suite is available."

"It seems an immoderate taste, if I may say so. How many
rooms can you occupy at once? In how many beds do you plan to
sleep? How many sanitary requirements are essential for your
health?"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 863

"No great matter," said Gersen. "Give me a single room with
a bath.. . . Has my friend Jacob Bane arrived?"

"To Swecher's? No."

"Not yet? Any outlanders at all besides myself?"

"No one here by the name of Bane, nor any other name. You
are the first to check in today. Please settle in advance for your
accommodation. A person who arrives like a waywisp from some
far corner of the universe can depart as easily without paying his
bill."

Gersen was taken to a dim room with blue walls and a black
ceiling which seemed higher than it was wide. A stand supported a
basin of water with a scrub brush. A pad of gray felt covered the
bed, with a similar pad on the floor. Glancing into the bathroom,
Gersen discovered a state of disorder. The innkeeper anticipated
his complaints. "At the moment this is the best we can offer. The
inn is heavily booked for an occasion two nights hence. To bathe,
use the pan and the brush. For your other needs, go to the latrine
down the hall." The innkeeper departed.

Luck is mith me^ Gersen told himself. The Danku'all Tavern is
probably worse.

Gersen wasted no time in the room. He descended to the street,
looked right, in the direction he had come, then turned left and
strolled into Gladbetook's modest business district.

At Golcher Way he turned left, crossed the Sweet Trelawney
River by a mossy stone bridge. On the side stood a statue in the
likeness ofDidram Runel Fluter, who held aloft in one hand a short
curved knife, in the other a severed set of male genitalia. Behind
stood the church. A sign read:

PARTITIONERS POSITIVE OF CREATIVE TRUTH

"There is no retreat!"
"There is no looking aside!"
"There is only the Truth and its Teaching!"

A cemetery occupied the field opposite, which was bordered by
heavy deodars. Everywhere stood statues honoring the dead: sim-
ulacra carved with uncanny skill from glossy white marble or syn-
thetic stuff. The statues stood in groups and companies, arranged
as if in a colloquy of consolation for the grievous event which had
been their common lot.

THE DK.MON PRINCF.S

864

A quarter mile along the road another bridge crossed the broad,
slow Swanibel River, on its way to meet the Sweet Trelawney; be-
yond Gersen saw the Gladbetook High School. . . . He halted and
reflected a moment. The time was something short of noon. He
turned and went back along Golcher Way into town.

At a meat market Gersen asked directions to the farm owned

by Adrian Hardoah.

"Turn left at the corner by Swecher's," he was told. "Make out
of town; you'll be on Virle Way. Go four miles to the crossroads,
turn right on Bausger Lane. The second farm on the left, that's the
Hardoah place, with the big green barn. What do you want from
Hardoah? Don't think for money; he's tight as a constipated duddle

on a cheese diet."

Gersen made a noncommittal reply and went his way.
In the runabout he set out along Virle Way to the north. Four
miles across the prairie he came upon the crossroads, and turned
right into Bausger Lane. A mile along the road and a hundred yards
back from the road, he saw a farmstead surrounded by garoms and
pepper-nuts, the foliage fluorescing in the light of Van Kaathe's
Star. Another mile along the road he noticed a small cottage to the
left of the roadthe Hardoah farm? It seemed somewhat modest
and even ramshackle, nor did he notice a green barn. On a bench
in the sunlight sat an old woman, small and thin, with a peaked,
wrinkled face. Beside her hung a coil of coarse string, from which
she tatted a patterned cloth, working her stiff fingers with painful

intensity.

Gersen halted the vehicle and alighted. "Good day, madam."

"Good day, sir."

"Would this be the Hardoah place?"

"No, sir. By no means. You'll find the Hardoahs yonder, a mile

along the road."

Fifty yards to the side of the bungalow Gersen noticed a dilap-
idated old structure, obviously derelict, surrounded by a copse of
blue-black ginsap. "That looks to be an old schoolhouse," said

Gersen.

"It is indeed and where I taught thirty years, and sat here an-
other twenty years watching the place fall apart. Nowadays they
take children over the hill to the new school at Leek."

"You've lived here all this time?"

"Aye, indeed. I've never had a man. I drink water and whey

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 865

and pot liquor. I follow Teaching close as close can be, and I was
judged a good teacher of the young."

"You taught Howard Hardoah, then."

"I did that. Do you know him?"

"Not well."

The old woman looked off through the air, seeing scenes across
the years. "I've often wondered what chanced with Howard. He
was an odd little boy, and moody. I've his picture somewhere, but
I'd never find it. He was like an elf-child; in fact, I remember him
now at the school pageant, where he represented the elf, all dressed
in green and brown, and an elfish little elf he was: wry and fidgety
and with an eerie face. Ah yes, and wasn't he naughty with little
Tammy Fluter, the fairy! She cried out and Howard was brought
up short, and no doubt roundly punished by his father. They were
Fundamentals, that's the strictest of the Partitioning, and mostly
died out now. You're not a Fundamentalist?"

"I'm totally ignorant of the sect."

"They espoused a strong creed, and quite sensible it all were
said that need be said. They asserted man's sins could be bred out
by careful choice, and brother married sister and cousin married
cousin, so to achieve the best. Did you notice the statue to Runel
Fluter the Didram in town? Well, he was master of the creed, and
did the work that needed to be done, hut little thanks he got, es-
pecially from those he considered unworthy. Oh, those were rare
days, with Teaching ever so strong! Now there's none left in these
parts but the Hardoahs, and they don't practice the old ideas."

"Howard must have been quite a handful."

"Sometimes, yes. Or he might be sweet as sweet could be. He
had overmuch imagination. How he loved flowers and how his little
mind worked' One day he sorted the flowers out by color, for the
Battle of the Flowers; and such wild antics never did you see, with
petals flying and the cries of the corpses. From hither to yon went
Howard, charging his Red troops against the Blues, with roses dy-
ing in great gallantry and bluebells triumphant over the vervains.
Ah me, what a day! Then he went up to high school and did poorly,
or so I'm told. He was small and young and no doubt the big boys
bullied him a bit. Then he went at odds with the Sadalflourys, and
naturally that was a scandal."

"How so?"

"Mmfhmm. I shouldn't be calkin? so much, but it's long ago

866 THE DEMON PRINCES

and times have changed, though the Sadalflourys are still important
folk. Howard took a fancy to one of the girls, I think it was Suby.
She naturally jilted him and Howard did something very reprehen-
sible, and the Sadalflourys were in a passion of rage, only Howard
hastily departed and traveled offworld."

Gersen bent over the woman's tatting. "That's beautiful work."
"It's my best, I say no more, and it earns my victual."
Gersen gave over ten SVU. "You can start such a cloth for me.
If I don't come back, well and good, sell elsewhere, without a
thought."

"But thank you, sir'"
"Not at all. I've enjoyed your talk, and now I must be on my

wav.

A mile along the road Gersen came to a farmstead with a con-
spicuous green barn to the side. He halted the runabout and sur-
veyed the house, a queer tingle of imminence coursing along his
skin. The house was like many another: three stories high, built of
pink clapboard with blue trim at the windows, a high roof broken
by gables and dormers. In the kitchen garden a tall man in blue
trousers and a black shirt worked a cutthroat hoe. Noticing Gersen
and the runabout, he paused in his work to stare.

Gersen drove into the yard and was approached by the tall man,
evidently Adrian Hardoah. His hair was yellow-brown streaked with
gray, cut with no attention to style; his face was long, bony, and
weatherbeaten. He examined Gersen with neither cordiality nor
interest. "Sir?"

"This is Home Farm?"

"So it is."

"And you are Adrian Hardoah?"

"That is right." Adrian Hardoah spoke in a soft deep voice,
with careful pace and precise enunciation.

"I am Henry Lucas; I represent Extant magazine and I have
come here from Pontefract on Aloysius."

"Ah! That was the contest magazine." Hardoah's voice took on
a more lively note.

"True. Among millions of entries, you were the first correctly
to identify subject number six, who is, of course, your son."

Adrian Hardoah instantly became defensive. "That should
make no difference. Identification is identification."

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 867

"No argument whatever. In fact, I have come to award the
prize."

"That's grand news! How much?"

"By our rules, the first accurate single identification gains three
hundred SVU. I carry that sum with me."

"Blessings on us, with the help of the Didrams! And would you
know that you just missed Howard himself by no more than an
hour? He's come for his school reunion."

Gersen smiled and shrugged. "An odd coincidence, certainly.
But it's nothing to me, one way or the other. He just happens to
be a man in a photograph."

"He's doing well, is Howard, though he left us no coin, and
it's been many long years since he went out from home. But come
inside; the woman must hear the good news. Truth to tell, I clear
forgot the matter and never even thought to ask Howard of his
great publicity. Folk must be looking at him everywhere, with his
picture out like that."

"Few folk are so observant, sir." He followed Adrian Hardoah
up the stairs and into a tidy kitchen. A woman almost as tall as
Adrian looked around. Her face, with a hundred elusive hints of
Howard Treesong, fascinated Gersen. Under a wide square fore-
head her eyes were set a trifle too closely; a long straight nose hung
over a pale mouth and a near-invisible chin: characteristics which
for better or worse gave her an unrelenting and secretive look, with
no indication of ease or humor.

Still, to Adrian's report of his winnings, she responded with a
totally ordinary gurgle of pleasure. "Well, isn't that fine! So How-
ard has warded us willy nor nilly!"

"So it seems. Well, then, what ot a taste of tea? And a good
scone? What do you say to that, Mr. Lucas?"

"I'd say thank you very much."

At Adrian's gesture, Gersen seated himself at the table. He
brought forth a packet of notes and began to count them out.
Adrian spoke reverently. "To think that by the flick of chance, no
more, did I look toward that photograph, and only for its being in
that outw^orld jinket Extant. And who won the grand prixe?"

"Persons of the group are essentially strangers who chanced to
meet at a pleasure resort. An attendant at the resort was first to
supply the names. Your son Howard also submitted an accurate
identification, but too late."

868 THE DEMON PRINCES

Reba Hardoah smiled a caustic smile. "Isn't that just like How-
ard? He always fell short, by just so much! A pity . . . Hist! I do
hear Ledesmus. He'll be Howard's older brother, a different sort
altogether. He'll have the farm when we ford the Flowing River."

Ledesmus halted in the doorway, surprised to see the offworld
visitor. He was bulkier than his father, with apple cheeks and heavy-
lidded eyes which gave his face a look of sly humor. Adrian spoke
out: "Ledesmus, step forward to meet Mr. Henry Lucas from a far
planet. He has brought us an account of money."

Ledesmus pursed his lips to whistle. "Phee-oo! What a day!
First Howard, down from nowhere, and now Mr. Lucas."

"Coincidence," said Gersen. "Still, it's a pity I missed him, as
I am ordered to write an article on the folk in the photograph."

Adrian spoke in a voice of dispassionate judgment: "There's not
much to say about Howard. He never worked a good stint around
the farm. He dreamed away his schooltime and I daresay he's noth-
ing very much today, for all his travels."

"Now then," said Reba, "don't be too near with the boy. You've
always known him to be eerie-like."

Gersen asked, "Do you expect him back?"

Adrian responded curtly, "No."

"Strange that he should come so far to stop by for just an hour
or two."

Reba tried to explain. "Well, we expect conduct just a bit in-
decorous' from Howard. Still we grieve to see him stray from
Teaching. If only he would shake the star dust off his heels and
come back home to work the fields with Ledesmus. That would
give us joy."

Ledesmus, showing his sly grin to Gersen, said, "He won't be
back. He is more indecorous now than ever."

Adrian agreed. "He won't be back. He came out and looked
the old place over. All he'd say was: 'It's the same. But it's not the
same.' He spent as much time out in his old office as he did with
his mother."

"His office?"

"The old pump shack yonder, where he'd take himself with his
books and papers and colored pens."

1. The word '^ardespanT lacks contemporary equivalence It includes the notions of obsti-
nacy, perverse wrongheadedness, a |eenng attitude toward somber reccitude-

THE BOOK OF DRE^iMS 869

Ledesmus said soberly, "Howard read too much for his men-
tality, a lot of crazy offworld stuff. He had a chair and a table, and
halfway through the night he'd be out there burning lights, until
we called him to bed. Regular werd' was Howard."

"Where is he staying now?"

Adrian said dubiously: "He mentioned friends he wanted to
visit."

Ledesmus gave a Jeering laugh. "Friends? Howard? There was
nobody but poor Nimpy Cleadhoe, and he's no more."

"Now then," said Reba in mild reproach, "you don't know
everything, Ledesmus."

Adrian said, "He came mainly for his school reunion. Still, a
person would think he'd want to bide at home. After all, it's here
he was born and here he was bred, and this is the dirt that made
up his bones."

Gersen pushed the sheaf of SVU certificates over to Adrian
Hardoah. "There you are, sir, and our gratitude for participating
in the contest. I suppose you'll want to subscribe to ExtantV

Adrian pulled at his chin. "We'll give thought to the matter.
It's an offworld jinket and beyond our concerns. If I can't fathom
the acts of the False-head Ulms in next land to north of us, how
can I hope to understand the doings at Alpheratz, or Caph? No,
we'll study our own knowledge. Which, after all, is Pure Truth. So
the Didrams tell us."

"Blessed be the Teaching," murmured Reba.

Gersen rose to his feet. "I'd like to look about your farm, if I
may. It will serve as background for the article 1 must write on
Howard."

"Certainly. Ledesmus, show the gentleman about."

Gersen and Ledesmus went out into the yard. Ledesmus peered
sidelong at Gersen. "So now you must write of Howard? Who
wants to read of him?"

"There's great interest in the contest. I'll mention your father
and mother and, naturally, vou."

"Indeed now. There'll be my picture and all?"

1. A man-shaped siipernan.ir.il being who prowls b\ night and sleeps underground by day.
According to Mannish folklore, it hides in the shadows, -waiting to pounce on children
and carry them away.

870 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Unfortunately not. I don't have a camera with me. . . . You're
older than Howard?"

"Aye, three years."

"Did you get along well?"

"Well enough. Father allowed no bickers. I did the work and
Howard dreamed away in his office."

Gersen stood irresolute. The spoor of Howard Alan Treesong
was strong but seemed to lead nowhere. "I'd like to look into How-
ard's office."

"Right yonder. It's changed not at all in thirty years. We pump
irrigation water from the pond for orchard and truck. House water
we draw up from the well; that's another pump."

Ledesmus led the way to a shed ten feet long by eight feet wide.
He pulled at the door, forcing it open against the screech of cor-
roded hinges. Two windows admitted light and showed a dusty
clutter.

"Place hasn't changed much," said Ledesmus. "Yonder is his
table, and that's the very chair where he planted his bewalkus.
These shelves held his books and papers; he was neat, was Howard,
with everything just so."

"And where are the books and papers?"

"Hard to say. Some are back to the house, some destroyed.
Howard was fidgety with his things; when he took to far ports little
enough was left behind. Howard liked his secrets."

"Had he friends? What of girls?"

Ledesmus made a guttural sound of scornful amusement.
"Howard never had the knack for girls. He talked too much and
acted too little, if you get my meaning. He liked little young girls,
and he played dirty on one or two, but don't print that." Ledesmus
looked over his shoulder toward the house. "Father never heard
these tales. He'd have skinned Howard for wallpaper. It didn't mean
much; Howard just wanted to try out the equipment; after all, that's
why it's there, aren't I right? Teaching is a bit vague on this score,
but if Sarter Martus didn't want girls for to play on, he'd have
wrought them with snap-teeth, like fish traps, if you get mv mean-
ing. His great love was a girl calledwhat was it now? She drowned
in Persimmon Lake . . . Zada Memar, a pretty thing . . . Friends?
There was Nimpy Cleadhoe from down the road. He and Howard
roamed the woods together and went out for nuts; and he was

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 871

somewhat a friend. Father didn't like it because old man Cleadhoe
was then town marmelizer."

"What's a marmelizer?"

"You've seen the cemetery, where dead folk stand? They're all
marmels. It's low work, with dead stuff and all. Still, they're gone
now, and that was Howard's friend, if friends thevwere." Ledesmus
turned Gersen a sheepish smile. "I ruined that friendship, me and
my foolishness."

"How so?"

"Well, Howard treasured a red writing book and he was most
private of it. One time Nimpy called him out of his office and sent
him to see Mother, over something or another. I reached through
the window and took the red book and tossed it over the pump.
Well, as luck would have it, the book slid behind the siding. I went
back of the barn and waited. Howard came out and went to lock
up his book and couldn't find it, and then I never saw such crazy
doings. He began talking in funny voices and hopping around.
Then he saw poor innocent Nimpy, and jumped him. I ran out and
pulled him away before he killed the boy. That was Howard's friend
and he wasn't a friend after that; in fact he never come back. How-
ard went off to summer Teaching, and I forgot about the book.
Let's see if it's still there." Ledesmus stepped over the pump, pulled
aside the wallboard, and thrust down his arm. "Hope I don't grab
the hot end of a cang1 ... I got it." He held up a red notebook and
tossed it to Gersen, who took it out into the sunlight and glanced
through the contents.

Ledesmus came from the pump room. "What's in the book?"

Gersen handed it over and Ledesmus nipped through the pages.
"Nothing important. .. W^hat kind of writing is that? 1 never saw
anything like it before."

"It's hard to make out."

"Whatever, it's tomfoolery. What's the use of writing what no-
body can read? . . . Here's pictures: dukes and kings in fancy dress.
Silly rigobands at a carnival. Father thought Howard was copying
out the Organon. I thought he was making up girl-stuff. Howard
fooled us all."

"It would seem so," said Gersen. "I'll take it off your hands for

1 Indigenous stinging insect, reaching a length of four inches.

872 THE DEMON PRINCES

a souvenir of Gladbetook. Would you take ten SVU for your trou-
ble?"

"Well, I don't know" Ledesmus hesitated, then took the
money. "I guess it's nothing Father would want. Just don't speak
of the matter."

"I'll say nothing, and you don't mention the book to Howard
should you see him before I do. I wonder where he's staying."

Ledesmus shrugged. "I think he planned to stay here, until he
had words with Father, and he left as soon as he arrived. He might
be at Swecher's Inn since that's the best in town."

Once more in Gladbetook, Gersen went to the arbor in front
of Swecher's Inn and found a seat at one of the tables, his back to
the lowering afternoon sun, his black shadow across the scrubbed
pinkwood table. A tall, gangling boy, all arms, legs, and neck, came
to inquire his needs. "How, sir?"

"What are you serving for lunch?"

"Lunch is out, sir. Just a bit too late. I could get you a dish of
maunce, with a crust of our good bread."

"WTiat is maunce?"

"W^ell, it's a kind of put-together, from herbs and river fish."

"That will do me very well."

"And will you drink?"

"What's to be had?"

"Whatever you choose, sir."

"I'd like a pint of cold beer."

"That we don't serve, sir, cold or warm."

"In that case, show me the card, or the list."

"Nothing of the sort here, sir. People know what they like with-
out reading about it."

"I see. . . . What are those folk yonder taking?"

"They have our chilled gruel seepings."

"And those folk to the side?"

"They take tanglefoot soak."

'What else can be had?"

"Kidney tonic. Nibbet. Soursap toddy. Belchberry sprig."

"Whatisnibbet?"

"Vitalizing tea."

"I'll try nibbet."

"At once, sir."

The boy departed and Gersen was left to ponder his situation.

THE ROOK OF DRK4A1S S73

Near at hand, perhaps within earshot, was Howard Alan Treesong;

Gersen could feel the weight of his presence. If Gersen could lure
him a few steps out of town, perhaps through mention of the old
red notebook, and drown him in the Sweet Trelawney, there would
be a satisfactory end to the affair. Unlikely that all would go so
well. . . . The serving boy brought a platter of fish stew, bread, and
a pot of tea.

Gersen poured the tea, tasted, to discover flavors to which he
could put no names. One of the ingredients seared first the tongue,
then the entire oral cavity. The servant boy, hiding a grin, asked
politely: "Sir, is nibbet to your taste?"

"Excellent." Gersen had devoured white curry in the Lascar
Quarter of Zamboanga; he had drunk pepper rum in Mama Potts's
Swillery at Sairle City on Copus. "Incidentally, I'm expecting a
friend from offworld. He doesn't seem to be here at the inn. Are
you reserving rooms for Mr. Slade or any other foreigners?"

"That I don't know, sir."

Gersen produced a coin. "Find out, but discreetly, as I want to
surprise my friend. He's coming for the school reunion."

The boy scooped up the coin and departed. Gersen stolidly ate
the maunce as he had eaten dozens of other such dishes across the
inhabited planets.

The boy returned. "Nobody like that here, sir, and we're hold-
ing no rooms."

"Where else could he be?"

"Well, there's Dankwall Tavern down the road, but their rooms
are poor; and there's Ott's Resort out on Skooney's Lake, where
rich owls go to roost. Else, there's nothing closer than the inn at
Blurry Corners."

"I see. Where is the telephone?"

"In the office, but first pay for maunce and nibbetI've had
such tricks played on me before."

"Just as you like." Gersen laid down coins. "On second
thought"Gersen gave the boy another SVU"be so good as to
call first Skooney's Lake, then the Dankwall Tavern, and inquire
as to offworld visitors here for the school reunion. Mind you, dis-
creetly now' Don't so much as mention me."

"As you say, sir."

Minutes passed. Gersen essayed another taste of nibbet. The
boy returned. "No one known, sir. The reunion is mostly locals,

S74 THE DEMON PRINCES

though there'll be a few in from foreign places. Ditty Jingol's uncle
is in from Bantry and some others from Wimping. Your friend will
likely be along tonight. Anything else, sir?"

"Not just now."

The boy departed. Gersen brought out the red book. On the
front was a title, carefully printed in block letters:

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

Gersen opened the book and concentrated his attention upon
young Howard Hardoah's handwriting. . . . An hour passed, two
hours.

Gersen looked up, turned, gauged the height of Van Kaathe's
Star. Late afternoon. He slowly closed the book and tucked it into
his pocket. He beckoned to the serving boy. "What is your name?"

"My name is Vitching, sir."

"Vitching, this is an SVU. It is for you. Presently there will be
another. In return I want you to perform a service for me."

Vitching blinked. "All very well, sir, but how? I can't counter-
wink Teaching. I'd blight all my good deeds of the past."

"You'll find no conflict with Teaching. I want you to watch for
that offworld person I mentioned to you."

"Wellone thing with another, I see no reason why I can't do
this work."

"Remember, the work must be done in secrecy! If one word
leaks out, I'll be seriously angry."

"No need to fear, sir."

Gersen transferred the SVU to the skinny-fingered hand. "I am
now going out to walk about the town."

"Precious little to see, sir, for folk like you who have been to
Cloutie."

"Well, I'll still look about. Mind you, not a word to anyone of
our business."

"Right, sir."

Gersen set out along the street, and now he felt conspicuous in
his citified Cloutie clothes. He paused at a clothing shop and looked
over the merchandise. A tray beside the door displayed sharp-toed
black boots. On a rack hung scarves, hats, and high gaiters in mole-
skin gray, embroidered with green and red. He entered the shop
and fitted himself out in Gladbetook style: a high-shouldered coat

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 875

of black furze, loose-bottomed trousers, gathered at the knees with
black straps, a wide green hat fitting low over his forehead instead
of tilted back, Cloutie-style. Looking in the mirror Gersen saw a
bumpkin sufficiently bland and moony to deceive any offworld eye.

Leaving the shop, he turned down Golcher W^ay. He crossed
the Sweet TreWney, passed Didram Runel Fluter, the Orthome-
tric Ghurch and, opposite, the cemetery where marmels of the dead
stood with their kindred. With uneasy side-glances Gersen marched
past, in the uncanny conviction that blank white eyes shifted to
watch as he went by. A quarter mile beyond, he crossed the Swan-
ibel River, and once again stood before the school, a structure con-
forming to the most elaborate tenets ofMaunish architecture. Each
side extended a wing capped by a baroque tower; a heavy, steep-
faced roof culminated in a belfry of fluted brass, surmounted by a
tall brass finial. In the silver-gold light from the setting Van Kaa-
the's Star each detail, each crotchet, bracket, and ornament was
picked out in strong contrast. Over the gate a sign read:

25th Anniversary Reunion
Welcome the return
of the famous Galloping Flatfish Class

Galloping flatfish? An old pleasantry, a special joke to be ap-
prehended only by members of the class ... An effort to think of
Treesong in this environment, walking this road, climbing the
school steps, peering from the tall windows . . .

Between the north wing and the Swanibel extended a paved
pavilion, a place for students to idle, gossip, survey the river. A
dozen men and women worked on the pavilion now: hanging fes-
toons, arranging tables and chairs, decorating the speaker's platform
with banderoles, tall gilt fans, and tassels.

Gersen sauntered into the driveway, climbed broad steps of pol-
ished red porphyry, crossed a piazza, approached a line ofbronze-
and-glass doors, one of which stood ajar.

Gersen entered, found himself in a long central hall that ran
east and west. At the far end, Van Kaathe's Star poured level light
through other glass doors. On the walls to either side hung a suc-
cession of group photographs: graduating classes reaching far into
the past.

Gersen stood listening. Silence except for a wisp of music, ris-

876 THE DEMON PRINCES

ing, falling, halting abruptly. A nearby door stood open. Looking
through, Gersen saw a tall thin-faced man with a bush of white hair
and a pair of girls, each of whom played the flageolet in time to
majestic sweeps of the man's long arms.

Gersen moved away and looked up at the photographs. He saw
a date fifty-two years past. As he proceeded along the corridor the
dates approached the present. Gersen halted at the photograph dis-
playing the class of twenty-five years before and studied the young
faces gazing forth, some proudly posing, others grinning sheepishly,
still others sullen and bored with the entire procedure. . . . Voices
and footsteps. From the music room came the instructor and his
pupils The instructor stared suspiciously at Gersen. The girls, after
an incurious glance, departed. The instructor spoke m a voice stiff
and pedantic: "Sir, the school is not open to visitors. I am now
leaving and must lock the door. May I ask you to leave2"

'T have been waiting for you, sir. Might we speak together a
moment?"

"Concerning what2"

Gersen began to develop an idea which had just entered his
head "You are professor of music here at the school2"

"Here I am Professor Kutte. I give lessons; from little musical
barbarians I create the majesty of an orchestra Away from here, I
am Valdemar Kutte, Master Musician, and Director of the Grand
Salon Orchestra." Valdemar Kutte raked Gersen up and down with
eyes sharpened by decades of instructing children in the correct
fingering of piano, lute, harp, flageolet, and liltaphone. "And who
are you, Mr. Offworlder, so I see?"

"How do you see that2" asked Gersen. "I thought to look an
ordinary Gladbetooker."

"Not with those clumsy boots. And you wear your trousers low.
Here we cultivate style, not slackness. Without intent to offend,
you seem like someone dressed for a charade."

Gersen laughed ruefully. "I will try to profit by your instruc-
tion."

"Good day, sir. We must depart."

"One moment. Is the Grand Salon Orchestra playing at to-
morrow's festival2"

Valdemar Kutte responded curtly "They have engaged no or-
chestra whatever, owing to financial stringencies "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 877

"Circumstances would seem to warrant the presence of your
orchestra."

"Perhaps so. As always there is someone to hold a tight hand
on the purse stringsusually the most affluent of the persons in
authority."

"This is how they become affluent."

"Yes, perhaps."

"How long have you been musical director here?"

"Far too long. I celebrated my twenty-fifth anniversary three
years ago. I may add that no one took notice of the 'celebration'
save myself."

"So then you instructed these folk2" Gersen indicated the pho-
tograph on the wall.

"Many of them . .. Some had will but no talent. Some had tal-
ent but no will. Many more lacked both. A very few displayed both
qualities, and these I remember."

"What of this group? Who were the musicians2"

"Aha. Darben Sadalfloury had a nice touch on the tantalem. I
believe that he still plays. Poor Mirtisha van Boufershe labored
four years on the vanence but always played flat. Howard Hardoah,
he was most adept but undisciplined. Alas, I believe that he might
have gone far."

"Howard Hardoah2 Which would he be2"

"Third row down on the end, the lad with the brown hair."

Gersen scrutinized the young Howard Alan Treesong, who
showed a not ill-favored face with a square forehead, wide and high,
neat light brown hair, an intense blue-gray gaze. The candid and
wholesome effect was flawed by a foxy chin, a drooping girlish
mouth, and a nose somewhat too long and too thin.

"Fadra Hessel of course plays loitre to this day at the cate-
chisms. I confess my memory brings forward little else. Sir, we must
depart and lock the school "

The two made their exit; the door was locked Valdemar Kutte
bowed. "A pleasure talking to you, sir."

"One moment," said Gersen. "A pleasant concept has come to
mind. I have strong sentiments toward this particular class, and I,
as an anonymous benefactor, will engage an orchestra, to augment
the )oy of the occasion. Can you suggest such an orchestra?"

The instructor stood erect, eyes snapping. "Fortuitously, I can
do so I refer you to the Valdemar Kutte Grand Salon Orchestra,

878 THE DFA10N PRINCES

which I personally supervise. It is the only conceivable choice. True,
there are other local groups: scattleboggers, bang-and-bump
groups, and the like, but I control the single musical organization
worthy of the name this side ofCloutie."

"And are you available for the evening in question?"

"By chance, I am quite free."

"Then consider yourself engaged, as of now. What will be your
fee?"

"Well, let me think. . . . How many pieces will you require?
Generally, I present two tarables, on the right and left; zumbolt,
soprano pipe, gamba, cornet, vibre, fiddles, a guitar and flageolet,
in the classical manner. For an engagement of this sort I ordinarily
ask two hundred SVU but" Professor Kutte looked dubiously at
Gersen's attire.

"I won't quibble," said Gersen. "You are hired, at two hundred
and fifty SVU. My only stipulation is this: I want to become a
member of your orchestra for this engagement only."

"Eh? You are a musician?"

"I can't play a note. I'll tap quietly on a drum and not disturb
anyone."

"You would disturb us all! The drum is a baby's noisemaker!"

"What would you suggest?"

"This is preposterous. Why cannot you merely listen from be-
yond the fence?"

"I want to participate close at hand. Still, if you can't"

"No! We will find a way. Can you play so much as a tin
whistle?"

Gersen could not help but feel humiliation at his incompetence.
"I have never so much as tried."

"Bah! This is bathos. Come with me. We will see what we can
do."

13

The only good drummer is a dead drummer.
Valdemar Kutte

Director, Grand Salon Orchestra
of Gladbetook

In Valdemar Kutte's studio, Gersen was handed a long wooden
flute. "A child's instrument," said Kutte disdainfully. "Still, to sit
with the Grand Salon one must play, if only a wooden pipe. Now,
fingers here, here, here. So. Now blow."

Gersen achieved a sour tone.

"Once more."

Three hours later Gersen had learned one of the five basic scales
and Kutte was fatigued. "For now, that is enough. I will number
these stops: one, four, five, and eight. We shall play simple tunes:

promenades, gallops, an occasional ramble. You will play one-five
one-five one-five-eight one-five-eight, in time to the music, occa-
sionally four-five-eight, or one-four-five. W^en we use a different
mode I will furnish you a different instrument. I can do no more.
Please pay me my fee in advance, plus twenty-four SVU for three
hours' intensive instruction."

Gersen paid over the money.

"Now then! Take this flute. When opportunity offers, practice.
Play the scale. Play simple progressions. Above all: learn one-five-
eight one-five one-five."

"I'll do my best."

"You must do better than your best! Remember, it is the Grand
Salon Orchestra with whom you play! Even though 'play' is a pre-

THE DF.MON PRINCF.S

880

tentious word for your level of achievement, and you will of course
be making only soft sounds. I hope that all will go well. It is an
eccentric situation, but for a musician, life is a succession of re-
markable events. We will meet here tomorrow, at middle afternoon.
Then you will go to Van Zed's store to he fitted in proper musi-
cian's uniform, as worn by the Grand Salon Orchestra; I will in-
struct him before you arrive. Then, after securing your uniform,
come here and 1 will supply further instructions, as best I can. Who
knows? This occasion may make a musician of you!"
Gersen looked doubtfully at the flute. "Perhaps so."

Once more at Swecher's Inn, Gersen dined on lentil paste, a stew
of pale meat and herbs, a salad of river reeds, and a half loaf of
crusty bread. Vitching, the serving boy, reported no success in his
investigations but Gersen rewarded him suitably.

Darkness fell on Gladbetook. Leaving the inn, Gersen wan-
dered up the main avenue to the center of town. At each corner of
the square a tall post supported a white-green globe around which
careened dozens of foot-long pink insects, with eight soft wings to
either side like the oars of a galley.

The shops were dark and empty. The haberdasher had ne-
glected to move his tray of boots inside, and his scarves hung as
before, where anyone so inclined could purloin the entire selection.
Other merchants seemed equally casual; the folk of Gladbetook
were evidently not addicted to larceny.

In the center of town nightlife was nonexistent. Gersen re-
turned along the main street, past Swecher's, to the Dankwall Tav-
ern, where in the common room, to the light of a few dim lamps,
a half dozen farm workers drank sour-smelling beer. . .. Gersen re-
turned to Swecher's Inn, went up to his room, where he softly
practiced the flute for an hour, until his lips failed. Then he brought
out The Book of Dreams and puzzled over its crabbed script. Appar-
ently young Howard had evolved a set of heroic tales, involving a
company of heroes, whose persons Howard had depicted with lov-
ing care and in the most intricate detail.

Gersen put the book aside and tried to make himself comfort-
able upon the unyielding bed.

In the morning he followed Kutte's instructions. He practiced
the flute, and presented himself to Kutte's studio on the extension

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 881

of Golcher Way a hundred yards south of the square. Kutte heard
him play the scales without enthusiasm.

"Now try one-four-five."

"I haven't reached that stage yet."

Kutte raised his eyes to the ceiling. He heaved a sigh. "Well,
what must be, must be: that is the lesson all musicians learn. I have
spoken to Mrs. Lavenger. She is chairman of the reunion. I told
her that an anonymous benefactor had hired the Grand Salon Or-
chestra and she was very pleased. We must arrive tomorrow after-
noon at the fourth hour and arrange ourselves. We will play before
the supper when the guests drink liquor outland fashion, and during
supper. After supper there will be encomiums and congratulations,
then several dance promenades, and no doubt the stylish folk will
take punch, which is not my habit, needless to say. As an out-
worlder, you have probably seen inebriation in your time?"

"I have so, indeed."

"Glory to the Teaching Didrams! Think of that! Still, you seem
a relatively sound man!"

"I seldom, if ever, drink overmuch."

"But is not the stuff pernicious?"

"I've heard opinions in both directions."

Kutte seemed not to hear. He knit his eyebrows thoughtfully.
"Where, to your knowledge, is the most intolerably drunken den
of the Oikumene?"

Gersen considered. "Not an easy choice to make. A hundred
thousand saloons from Earth out to Last Call clamor for that dis-
tinction. Twast's Place on Krokinole can hold its head high, Dirty
Red's on the pier at Daisy's Landing, on Canopus III, is another
well-known resort."

"How fortunate are we in Gladbetook! Our decency is the envy
of the cosmos! However, and I say this with regret, tomorrow night
our reputation may become tarnished. The Sadalflourys, the van
Bessems, the Lavengersall surely will taste essences and stings.
But none will trouble us, so I feel assured or at least hopeful. Once
morelet us hear those scales. ... Now: one-five-eight. One-four-
five. One-five one-five . . . One-four-five . . . Harp on the Sacred
Ram! Stop! It will have to do; today I can hear no more. Practice
diligently tonight. Concentrate on sound production, on tone, just-
ness, pitch, timbre, clarity, precise attack, and sonority. WTien you
alter tones, raise one finger, depress the other simultaneously, not

882 I HP UFMON PRINCES

after a lapse of a second or so Practice finger placement "When
you seek to put a finger on tour, let it be four, neither two nor six.
Cultivate verve, avoid that dreary flatness which now pervades vour
articulation. Is this all clear3"

"Perfectly."

"Good'" cried Valdemar Kutte heartily. "Tomorrow will show
us hope and improvement."

On the following afternoon the orchestra assembled at Kutte's stu-
dio. Kutte distributed scores, took Gersen aside and listened as he
played his parts. Kutte had arrived at a state of fatalistic calm and
made no expostulations. "It will have to do," he said. "Play very
softly and all will be well, especially if essences flow freely."

Kutte led Gersen before the other musicians "All, pay heed' I
wish to introduce my friend Mr. Gersen, who has become an am-
ateur of the flute. He plays experimentally on this single occasion
only. We must all try to be polite to him."

The musicians turned to look at Gersen and muttered among
themselves. Gersen submitted to the attention with as much aplomb
as he could muster.

The orchestra set off down Golcher Way, each man carrying
his instrument, except Gersen, who carried five flutes, tuned in var-
ious modes. All were dressed alike, in black suitshigh-shouldered
coats and bag-bottom breechesgray gaiters, pointed black shoes,
flat-crowned black hats with down-drooping brims.

The group approached the school and Gersen grew ever more
uneasy. The scheme which originally had seemed so ingenious now,
as the critical moment approached, he saw to be inconvenient,
cranky, and uncertain. If Howard Treesong gave the musicians
more than a cursory look, he might recogni/e Henry Lucas ofa-
tant, which would create an awkward situation. Howard Treesong
would undoubtedly arrive well armed and with an entourage. In
contrast, Gersen carried five flutes and a kitchen knife bought the
same morning from an ironmonger.

The orchestra filed into the pavilion, placed their instruments
upon the platform, and waited while Valdemar Kutte conferred
with Ossim Sadalfloury, of the locally important Sadalfloury family
a portly and jovial man in a fine suit of dark green gabardine.

Valdemar Kutte re)omed the orchestra. "A collation will be set

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

behind the pavilion for our convenience. It will include braised na-
vets and conserve; there will also be tea and raisin water."

At the back of the group someone muttered and laughed; Kutte
glared and spoke with meaningful emphasis. "Mr. Sadalfloury re-
alizes that we are all valetudenanans and respects our convictions.
No essences or fermented products will be served to the orchestra,
as that in any event would detract from its performance. So now,
up on the platform, hup, hup, hah' Lively and smart, everyone!"

The musicians seated themselves on the platform, arranged mu-
sic, tuned instruments. Kutte placed Gersen in the back row, be-
tween the zumbold and the gamba, both instruments played by
large blond men of phlegmatic disposition.

Gersen arranged his flutes in the order Kutte had dictated. He
played a few tentative scales, contriving to seem musicianly, then
he sat back and watched the old classmates as they entered the
pavilion. Many were local residents, others had arrived from out-
lying townships. A few resided in far lands, and a few had made the
journey to Gladbetook from offworld. They greeted each other
with cries of marveling surprise and brassy laughter, each astonished
to discover how the others had aged. Hearty salutations were ex-
changed between folk of equal social standing, greetings more care-
fully measured took place between persons of disparate status.

Howard Hardoah, as these folk knew him, was not yet in evi-
dence. When he arrived, what then^ Gersen had not even the ves-
tige of a plan.

At the fourth hour of the afternoon the reunion officially began.
The tables were already filled with groups. To the right of the
bandstand the gentry had tended to collect; to the left sat farm folk
and shopkeepers. A few tables to the far left were occupied by river
folk, who lived on barges, the men wearing brown corduroy, the
women coarse-woven pantaloons and long-sleeved blouses. The
gentry, so Gersen noted, sipped liqueurs from exquisite little flag-
ons of blue and green glass. When a flagon was empty, it was
dropped with a mannered gesture into a basket.

Valdemar Kutte, carrying a fiddle, stepped up on the platform.
He bowed to right and left, then turned to his orchestra. " 'Shar-
melld's Dance,' the full version Easy but lightsome, not too much
vigor in the duets, are we ready^' Kutte glanced at Gersen, waved
a finger. "The fourth mode  . No, not that one . . Yes, correct."

He jerked his elbows; the orchestra broke into a merry bounce-

884 THE DEMON PRINCES

about, with Gersen blowing the tiute as he had been taught, though
quietly.

The piece ended. Gersen gratefully put down the flute. It might
have gone worse, he thought. The basic rule seemed to be to stop
playing w^en everyone else stopped.

Valdemar Kutte bespoke another tune, and as before signaled
Gersen in regard to the proper instrument.

The tune "Bad Bengfer" was familiar to everyone present. All
vigorously sang the choruses and stamped their heels on the floor.
The song, so far as Gersen could determine, celebrated the esca-
pades of Bengfer, a drunken roustabout, who fell into the cesspool
at the back of Buntertown. Convinced that he had fallen into a vat
of "Nip-doodle Beer," he drank to satiety, and when Van Kaathe's
Star rose to illuminate the scene, astonished passersby discovered
Bengfer's rotund belly protruding above the banks of the cesspool.
An unsavory song, thought Gersen, but Valdemar Kutte conducted
his orchestra with gusto. Gersen took advantage of the general con-
fusion to blow more daringly into his flute, receiving only a warning
glance or two from Kutte.

A gentleman from a table to the right came up to the bandstand
and spoke to Valdemar Kutte, who responded with a peevish if
obsequious bow.

Kutte addressed the company. "By request. Miss Taduca
Milgher will sing for us."

"Oh no!" cried Taduca Milgher from her table. "Utter terror!"

She was urged to the platform while Valdemar Kutte stood
smiling sourly.

Taduca Milgher sang several ballads: "A Lonesome Bird Am
I," "My Little Red Barge on the River," and "Pinkrose, the Space
Pirate's Daughter."

The tables were full; the latecomers apparently had all arrived.
Gersen began to wonder if I loward Treesong would after all be on
hand for the occasion.

Taduca Milgher retired to her table. Supper was announced,
and the orchestra went to enjoy their collation behind the service

screen.

Evening had come to Gladbetook. A hundred fairy lamps hang-
ing from a bamboo trellis illuminated the pavilion. At their tables
the patricians dined at leisure and took their liqueurs. Folk who

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 885

interpreted Teaching more earnestly sat over pots of tea, but missed
very little of what went on at the stylish tables.

Unreality, thought Gersen. Where was Howard Treesong?
Near at hand? came a sudden message from his subconscious, harsh
and strong. Gersen looked across the edge of the pavilion, out over
the river meadow. .. . Time seemed to freeze. Unreality dissipated.
Now was the true, the real Now. Near the river three men stood
motionless, looking toward the pavilion. Gersen turned, looked off
toward the road. By the fence, faces and garments blurred by twi-
light, stood three other men. Gersen knew by their postures that
these were not men of Gladbetook.

All was changed. To this moment the reunion had been an
occasion of froth and fancy: exaggerated, quaint, absurd. Beyong
the glimmer of the fairy lamps were fancies of another sort, brood-
ing and sinister. Gersen went to the edge of the pavilion and looked
to the south. He discerned other shapes, inconspicuous under a
copse of elms. . ..

Kutte called his orchestra back to the platform. "Now then!
We will play 'Rhapsody of Dreaming Maidens.' Mind now! Grace
and delicacy."

Revelry among the reunited schoolmates had reached a mellow
state of joviality and good fellowship. Friends called to old friends
across the pavilion, recalling escapades, feats, and jokes. Social rig-
ors were loosening; badinage included folk along the length of the
pavilion: "never, never! It was Crambert all the while! I was cen-
sured and blamed" "Hoy there, Sadkin! Remember the stink-
flower in Miss Boab's bouquet? What a lark, eh?" "most fearful
scandal ever! That was a year before your time! He was known as
'Pussy-britches' ever after." "WTiat happened to Tussy-britches'?"
"Drowned in the Quade Canal, poor chap. Fell from his barge."
"Worse scandal yet was Fimfle's periscope; remember that?" "Aye,
so I do. Over the transom into the girl's dressing room, for knees,
elbows, and all between." "What a thought was that!" "Fimfle!
What a sorry chap! Where is he tonight?" "Not a clue." "Hey
there, whatever happened to Fimfle?" "Don't mention the horrid
little fellow." This from Adelie Lagnal at the Sadalfloury table.

A sound like the lowest tone of an enormous gongwas it real?
or subliminal? Gersen felt it, but no one else seemed to notice.

In the entrance stood a tall, square-shouldered figure. Tight
trousers of green velour encased his long strong legs; over a loose

886 THE DF.MON PRINCES

long-sleeved white shirt he wore a black vest with purple and gold
fobs. His ankle-boots were pale brown leather; a soft black cap was
pulled askew across his wide high forehead. He stood in the en-
trance, smiling a twisted smile. Then with exaggerated self-
effacement, he went to a vacant table nearby and seated himself,
still smiling his twisted smile. From the Sadalfloury table came a
hoarse choked whisper, which penetrated a sudden silence: "It's
Fimfle himself!"

Howard Alan Treesong, or Howard Hardoah, slowly turned his
head and looked toward the Sadalflourys. Then he glanced toward
the bandstand. His gaze passed over Gersen and fixed upon Val-
demar Kutte, and his smile became a trine wider.

The school chums resumed their conversations. Back and forth
went the badinage, but not so easy and not so free, as eyes turned
curiously toward Howard Hardoah.

At last Morna van Hulgen, one of the chairwomen, took herself
in hand and, approaching, gave him a hearty and only faintly false
welcome, which Howard Hardoah accepted graciously. Morna van
Hulgen gestured toward the buffet table, proffering supper. How-
ard Hardoah smiled, shook his head. Morna looked uncertainly
around the room, from group to group, then turned back to the
suave man at the table before her. "It's so nice seeing you after all
these years! I'd never have known youexcept you haven't really
changed! The years have been kind to you!"

"Very kind indeed. I am happy with them."

"I don't remember your particular friends. . . . But you mustn't
sit here alone. There's Saul Cheebe; you remember him? He's sit-
ting with Elvinta Gierle and her husband from Puch."

"Of course I remember Saul Cheebe. I remember everyone and
everything."

"Why not join him? Or Shimus Woot? There's so much to talk
about." She indicated the tables which were well to the left end of
the room.

Howard Hardoah glanced briefly toward the tables in question.
"Saul or Shimus, is it? Both, as I recall, were lummoxes, dull and
dirty. I, on the other hand, was a philosopher."

"Well, perhaps so. Still, people do change."

"Not so! Consider me, for instance. I am still a philosopher,
even more profound than before!"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 887

Morna made uneasy movements preparatory to edging away.
"Well, that's very nice, Howard."

"So then, with these considerations in mind, what groups would
you recommend that I join? The Sadalflourys yonder? Or the van
Bouyers? Or for that matter, your own?"

Morna pursed her lips and blinked. "Really, Howard! I'm sure
that you'd be welcome anywhere, it's just that, well, at school, you
know, and I thought"

"You thought of me as a poor vagabond of space, returning,
tired and forlorn but full of sentiment, to rejoin Shimus and Saul
at our class reunion. In some respects, Morna, time is like a mag-
nifying lens. As a boy I never so much as tasted liqueurs or essences.
I brooded upon these illicit delights, and the pretty little flasks be-
came objects of fascination and wonder. Be so good as to signal for
the steward, Morna, and sit with me. Together we will taste Nectar
of Phlox and Blue Tears and Now-You-See-Me."

Morna drew back a step. "There is no general steward here,
Howard. The drink you see has been privately supplied. And
now"

"In that case I will accept your invitation." Howard Hardoah
jumped to his feet. "We will join your table, and no doubt Wim-
berly can spare a flask or two from his basket." With a debonair
gesture he urged Morna across the pavilion to the table she shared
with her spouse, Wtmberly, Bloy andJenore Sadalfloury, Peder and
Ellicent Vorvelt.

The group gave Howard Hardoah a cool and minimal welcome.
His response was an easy salute- "Thank you all. Morna has com-
mended me to this noble old Blue Tears, and I will gladly take a
dram or two. Gentlemen and ladies, my best regards' Let the fes-
tivities proceed!"

"There is no formal program," saidJenore, "Are none of your
old friends here?"

"Just yourselves," said Howard Hardoah. "No program, you
say? We must see about that. After all, a reunion should be mem-
orable! Thank you, Wimberly, I'll try another gill. Hey there, Di-
rector Kutte, strike up a tune!"

Valdemar Kutte performed a rigid inclination of the head and
shoulders. Howard Hardoah chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
"He has altered not a whit; same dry old frump. Some of us develop

THK DEMON PRINCES

in one direction, some in another. Right, Blov? You've developed
outward; indeed, you're quite corpulent."

Bloy Sadalfloury became red in the face. "It is not a matter 1
care to discuss."

Howard Ilardoah had already passed on to a different subject.
"So many Sadalflourys in Fluter Township I can't keep the various
branches separate. As I recall, you are of the senior line."

"That is correct."

"And who now is head of the family?"

"That would be my father, Mr. Nomo Sadalfloury."

"He is not present tonight?"

"He is not a member of this class."

"And what of Suby Sadalfloury who was once so beautiful?"

"You are evidently referring to my sister, Mrs. Suby ver Ahe.
She is present."

"Where is she sitting?"

"At the table yonder, with her husband, and others."

Howard Hardoah swung about and inspected the dark-haired
matron at a table twenty feet away. He rose to his feet and went to
lean over the group. "Suby! Do you recognize me?"

"You are Howard Hardoah, I believe." Suby ver Ahe's voice
was cool.

"I am he. And who are these others?"

"My husband, Paul. My daughters, Mirl and Maud, Mr. and
Mrs. Janust of River Vista, Mr. and Mrs. Gildv of Lake Skooney
and their daughter Halda."

Howard Hardoah acknowledged the introductions and returned
to Suby. "What an event, meeting you again! I am happy now that
I came. Your daughters are as lovely as you were at their age."

Suby's voice was colder than ever. "I am surprised that you
should wish to bring old events to mind."

Paul ver Ahe said, "Astonishing that you should choose to ap-
pear at all!"

Howard Hardoah showed a plaintive smile. "Was I not invited?
Is this not my class and my school?"

Paul ver Ahe said gruffly, "Certain things are best left unsaid."

"Quite true." Howard drew up a chair and seated himself. "If
I may, I'll try a flask of your Ammarv."

"I have not invited you to do so."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 889

"Tush, Paul, don't be mean! Does not your mill grind out ton
after ton of valuable murdock flour?"

"The mill is still in operation. I dispose of the profits as I see
fit."

Howard Hardoah threw back his head and laughed. "A pleasure
to meet you all." He took up Mirl's hand and kissed her fingers.
"Especially you. I have an absolutely unappeasableinsatiable per-
haps is not quite the wordadmiration for beautiful girls, and be-
fore the evening is over we must arrange to meet again."

Paul ver Ahe started to rise to his feet, but Howard Hardoah
had already turned away from Mirl. He tilted the flask ofAmmary
to his lips and swallowed the contents at a gulp. "Refreshing!" In
proper style he dropped the empty flask into a basket.

Suby's attention had been distracted. She touched her husband's
arm. "Paul, who are those people?" She pointed to the edge of the
pavilion. There stood three hard-faced men wearing uniforms of
gray and black with black casques. Each carried a short, heavy gun.

Mrs. Janust cried out softly: "They are everywhere! They're all
around us!"

Howard Hardoah said in a negligent voice, "Pay them no heed,
They are part of my entourage. Perhaps I should make an an-
nouncement, to allay curiosity."

Howard Hardoah jumped up on the bandstand. "School chums,
old acquaintances, others, you will notice here and there groups of
what appear to be battle troops. They are, in fact, a squad of my
Companions. Tonight they wear this rather forbidding costume,
which tells us that they are in a somber mood. WTien they wear
yellow, you'll find them jaunty and gay. When they wear white, we
call them 'death dolls.'

"On this occasion, attend their wise counsels, and we'll all enjoy
an evening of fun. Everyone, proceed with the party! Let the rem-
iniscences flow! Jenore Sadalfloury tells me that no entertainments
have been planned. I feared as much, and saw fit to arrange a little
program. Let me talk briefly of myself. Perhaps of everyone at-
tending the dear old school I was most innocent. I laugh now to
think of my illusions. Ah, that dear dreamy lad twenty-five years
gone! At school he discovered a mysterious new world of illicit
pleasures and tantalizing possibilities. But when he tried to explore
and extend himself, he was rebuffed. Nothing went right for him.
He was bullied, abused, taunted, and given an odious nickname:

890 THK DEMON PRINCES

'Fimfle.' Bloy Sadalfloury, I believe, was first to use that expression.
Am I correct in this, Blov?"

Bloy Sadalfloury puffed out his cheeks but made no response.

Howard Hardoah gave his head a slow, marveling shake. "Poor
Howard! The girls treated him little better. Even now I wince at
the slights! Suby Sadalfloury played a particularly heartless game,
which I will not describe. I now invite her charming daughters on
a cruise aboard my ship. We will visit interesting regions of space,
and I assure them that in my company they will not be bored. It is
possible that Suby may be distressed and lonesome, but she should
have considered the possible consequences of her acts twenty-five
years ago, which resulted in my own departure from Giadbetook.

"In sheer point of fact, nothing could have been more to my
advantage. I am now a very rich man. I could buy all Giadbetook
and never notice. Philosophically, I am a far more definite person.
I subscribe to the Doctrine of Cosmic Equilibrium: in simple terms,
for every 'tit' there must be a 'tat.' Now for tonight's program. It
is a little pastiche called 'A Noble Schoolboy's Daydream of Jus-
tice!' How fortunate we are to have on hand many principals to the
seminal circumstances!"

Cornelius van Bouyers, chairman of arrangements, came hur-
rying forward. "Howard! You're talking extravagant folly! You can't
be serious; in fact, you're making fun of us all. Come down at once,
there's a good fellow, and we'll all enjov the evening."

Howard raised a finger. Two Companions led Cornelius van
Bouyers from the pavilion and locked him in the girls' gymnasium
and he was seen no more that night.

Howard Hardoah turned to the orchestra. Gersen, twenty feet
away, hoped that a wide-brimmed hat and a bland expression were
adequate disguise.

Howard Hardoah barely glanced at him. "Director Kutte! It
gives me s-reat pleasure to see you tonight! Do you remember me?"

"Not\vell."

"That is because you flew into a rage with me and snatched
away my fiddle. You said I played like a drunken squirrel."

"Yes, 1 remember the occasion. You used a clumsy vibrato. In
the attempt for sentiment you achieved only larmoyance."

"Interesting. You do not play this style?"

"Decidedly not. Each note should be met justly and precisely,
with an edge to each side."

THE BOOK OF ORMMS S91

"Let me remind you of a musician's truism," said Howard Har-
doah. " 'When you stop going up, you start going down.' You have
never played 'drunken squirrel' style, and it is time that you should
make the essay. In order to play like a 'drunken squirrel,' while you
cannot become a squirrel, at least you can become drunken. Here
we have the necessary essences. Drink, Professor Kuttc, then play!
As you never have played before!"

Director Kutte bowed stiffly and pushed aside the proffered
flasks. "Excuse me, I do not drink ferments or spirits. Teaching
expressly condemns their use."

"Bah! Tonight we throw a blanket over theology, as we might
cover a cantankerous parrot. Let us rejoice! Drink, Professor! Drink
here or outside the pavilion with the Companions."

"I have no taste for drink, but since I am forced . . ." Kutte
threw the contents of a flask down his throat. He coughed. "The
flavor is bitter."

"Yes, that is Bitter Ammary. Here, try Wild Sunlight."

"That is somewhat better. Let me try7 the Blue Tears. . . . Yes.
Tolerable. But quite enough."

Howard Hardoah laughed and clapped Kutte between his nar-
row shoulders, while Gersen watched sadly. So near and yet so tar.
The zumbold player next to him muttered, "The man is insane! If
he comes within reach I'll clap the zumbold over his head; you make
play with the flute and we'll have him helpless in a trice."

By the entrance stood two men: the first short and thick as a
stump, near bald, with a square head and flat features; the second
spare, saturnine, with short thick black hair, hollow cheeks, a long,
pale Jaw and chin. Neither wore a Companion uniform. "See those
two men?" Gersen made a discreet indication. "They are watching
and waiting for just some such foolishness."

"I am not a man to accept humiliation!" growled the zumbold
player.

"Tonight you had better go carefully, or you may not awake to
life tomorrow morning."

Director Kutte ran his hand through his hair. His eyes had
become a trifle glassy and he lurched as he turned to his orchestra.
"Play us a tune," called I loward Hardoah. "Drunken squirrel style,
if you please."

Kutte mumbled to his orchestra: " 'Gypsy Firelight,' in Aeo-
lian."

892 THE DEMON PRINCES

Howard Hardoah listened carefully as the orchestra played,
keeping time with his finger. Presently he called out, "Enough!
Now for the program! It gives me great pleasure to present to-
night's entertainment. It has been germinating for twenty-five
years. Since I am the impresario, and since the themes derive from
my own experiences, the subjective point of view need come as no
surprise.

"Let us begin! Our stage properties are at hand. I roll back the
curtain of time! We are now at school with Howard Hardoah, a
dear lad mistreated by bullies and fickle girls. I recall one such
incident. Maddo Strubbins, I see you yonder; you seem as over-
bearing now as then. Come forward! I wish to recall an incident to
your mind."

Maddo Strubbins glowered and sat back defiantly. The Com-
panions approached. He lurched to his feet and sauntered toward
the bandstand, a tall, burly man with coarse dark hair and heavy
features. He stood looking up at Howard Hardoah with mingled
contempt and uncertainty.

Howard Hardoah spoke in a harsh brassy voice: "How good to
see you after all these years! Do you still play on the quadrangles?"

"No. That is a game for children, striking a ball back and
forth."

"Once, we both thought differently- I went on the court with
my new racquet and ball. You came with Wax Buddle and pushed
me off the courts. You said, 'Cool your arse, Fimfle. You must wait
on your betters.' So you played your game using my ball. Do you
remember? When I protested that I had arrived first, you said: 'Sit
quiet, Fimfle! I can't play my best with you caterwauling in my ear.'
When you had finished, you hit my ball over the fence and it was
lost in the weeds. Do you remember?"

Maddo Strubbins made no reply.

"I have long felt the deprivation of that golden day forever
lost," said Howard Hardoah. "It has hung in my memory: a frus-
tration! The price of the ball itself was fifty centums- My time spent
waiting and hunting for the ball is worth another SVU, to a total
of one and a half SVU. At ten percent interest compounded across
twenty-five years, it is exactly sixteen SVU, twenty-five centums,
and two farthings. Add ten SVU punitive damages for a total, let
us say, of twenty-six SVU. Pay me now."

"I don't carry so much money."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 893

Howard Hardoah instructed his Companions: "Flog him well
for twenty-six minutes, then cut off his ears."

Strubbins said, "Wait a minute. . . . Here is the money." He
paid over coins, then turned and hunched back toward his table.

"Not just yet," said Howard Hardoah. "You have only paid me
for the lost ball. 'Sit quietly,' you said."

The Companions rolled forward a wooden chair-frame on
which rested a block oi ice. They conducted Maddo Strubbins to
the chair, cut away his trousers, sat him on the ice, and strapped
him in place.

"Sit quietly; cool your own arse," said Howard Hardoah. "You
lost my ball and I am tempted to order an excision along your own
ropy scrotum, except that this is a family entertainment. One other
matter. . ." A Companion stepped forward and pressed a contri-
vance against Maddo Strubbins's forehead; he cried out in pain.
When the contrivance was removed the letter F, in heavy purple
block print, remained.

"That is an indelible reminder of the odious nickname 'Fimfle,' "
said Howard Hardoah. "It shall be a memento for anyone I recall
using this term. It was evolved by Bloy Sadalfloury. Let us deal next
with this corpulent scalawag."

Bloy Sadalfloury was stripped naked and tattooed with F's over
his entire body, except across his buttocks, where FLVIFLE was
spelled out in full.

"You are bedizened in style," said Howard Hardoah with crit-
ical approval. "WTiile you are bathing at Lake Skooney and your
friends ask why you are spotted like a leopard, you will respond: 'It
was the fault of my malicious tongue!' Hey, Companions! A clever
elaboration! Stamp his tongue as well!

"So then, who and what is next on the program? Edver Vissy?
Forward, please . . . Remember Angela Dam? A pretty little girl
from the lower grades? I admired Angela with all the fervor of my
romantic heart. One day as I stood talking to her, you came along
and pushed me aside. You said, 'Run along, Fimfle. Just pick a
direction; .Angela and I will go the other way.' I have puzzled over
this command long and often. 'Run along.' Along what? The road?
An imaginary line? A long way?" Howard Hardoah's voice became
nasal and pedantic. "In this special case, we will simplify and imag-
ine a course around the pavilion. You will run 'a long way' 'along'
this course, and we will learn where emphasis ties. Four blackguard

894 THE DEMON PRINCF.S

dogs will chase you and gnaw your legs should you tarry. Hurrah
then, Edver! Let us watch a fleet pair of heels as you 'run along.'
A pity that little Angela is not here to enjoy the evening."

The Companions took Edver Vissy to the course and set him
running, with four squat hounds lurching and snarling behind him.

The zumbold player muttered to Gersen, "Have you ever seen
the like? The man is mad, to play such spiteful tricks!"

"Take care," said Gersen. "He hears whispers ten minutes old
and half a mile away. So far his acts are almost benign; he is in a
good mood."

"I hope never to see him in a rage."

The program proceeded, as, one by one, Howard Hardoah ad-
justed strains and imbalances in the cosmic equilibrium.

Olympe Omsted had arranged to meet Howard at the Blinnick
Pond Picnic Grounds. Howard had trudged ten miles and had
waited four hours, only to see Olympe arrive in company with Gard
Thornbloom. "You will now be conveyed to a far place," Howard
told Olympe. "You will wait eight hours, until morning, then walk
twenty miles to the Wiggal River. That you may forever remember
this occasion, I have arranged a further penalty." Olympe was
stripped nude to the waist; one breast was stained bright red, the
other an equally intense blue, and for good measure a purple F was
stamped on her belly. "Excellent!" declared Howard Hardoah. "In
the future you will find it more difficult to beguile and deceive
trusting young boys."

While Howard gave his attention to Leopold Friss, Olympe was
led from the pavilion, and carried off through the night. Leopold
had instructed young Howard to "Kiss his arse." Six pigs were
brought before Leopold, and he was obliged to kiss each appropri-
ately.

Hippolita Fawer, who had slapped Howard's face on the front
steps of the school, was spanked by two Companions, while Pro-
fessor Kutte played a threnody in time with her outcries.

Professor Kutte, now loose in the knees, found difficulty in
applying bow to strings. Howard Hardoah seized the fiddle in dis-
gust. "I have drunk five times as much as you!" he told Kutte. "You
boast of musical competence, yet you cannot play while drunk! For
shame! I shall play the tune properly." He signaled the Companions
who set about spanking Hippolita, who resumed her cries while
Howard played the fiddle. He began to dance as he played, lifting

THE ROOK OF DRK4MS 895

one of his long legs, thrusting it high and forward and giving a little
kick, then prancing forward, knees bent, meanwhile playing with
rapt face and half-closed eyes.

The zumbold player said dubiously to Gersen: "Truth to tell,
he plays in fine style. ... A sure touch there; notice how justly he
accents the woman's outcries. I am tempted to shout 'bravo.' "

"He would be pleased," said Gersen. "On the whole it is prob-
ably best not to call attention to yourself."

"I am sure that you are right."

The tune came to an end and Hippolita returned in dishevel-
ment to her table. Howard Hardoah was in the mood for music.
He faced the orchestra. "All together now, with zest, rare tones,
and precise execution: 'Pettyville Pleasures.' Parnassian Mode."

Gersen nudged the zumbold player. "Which flute?"

"With the brass flange."

Howard Hardoah stamped his foot; the tune began. After one
rendition, Howard called a halt. "Fair, only fair! More bite with
the cornet! You on wood-pipe! Whv do vou not play the traditional
solo?"

Gersen showed a moony grin. "Fm not that sure of the part,
sir."

"Then you should practice your instrument'"

"I give my all, sir."

"Once again, lively now!"

The tune was played, with Howard Hardoah performing his
absurd capering dance.

Abruptly he stopped, stamped his feet, raised his hands on high,
brandishing fiddle and bow in outrage. "You, on the wood-pipe!
Why do you not play as you should? Why this preposterous pip-
pup-pup, pip-pup-pup?"

"W^ell, sir, truth be told, it is how 1 learned the instrument."

Howard Hardoah clutched his head, deranged his hat in a
frenzy of impatience. "You exasperate me to distraction, with your
pip-pup-pup! Also your foolish leering face. Companions! Seize this
mooncalf, take him down to the river, and throw him away! Mu-
sicians of his sort the world is better without."

The Companions seized Gersen, draped him from the plat-
form. Howard addressed the audience. "You are witnessing an im-
portant event. The population is divided into three classes: first,
fastidious persons of discrimination and taste; second, the vulgar

896 1 HF DEMON PRINCES

masses, exemplihed by yourselves, and third, a few wretched par-
venus who mimic the style of their betters, as m the case of this
wood-pipe player His sort must be discouraged' Nowon with
the music All who wish may dance "

Two Companions frog-marched Gersen across the pavilion and
down the slope toward the river. A third strolled negligently behind
Nothing could have been more to Gersen's satisfaction Down the
steps to the boat dock they marched, and out to the far end, where
the fairy lamps reflected in jerks and jiggles on the dark water.

The Companions seized Gersen by the arms and the seat of
the pants Gersen hung supine and limp. "It's to be one, two, three
and on your way' So, here we go'"

"Here we go," said Gersen He swiveled, broke holds, struck
the man on his left a fearful blow in the neck, crushing his larynx.
He struck the other across the temple with his fist and felt the crush
of bone Turning at a crouch he flung himself against the knees of
the third man, who staggered, swayed, lurched backward, clawing
at his side arm Gersen caught him in a clamp, flung him face down,
planted his knees on the heavy shoulders, reached down into the
man's mouth, jerked up and back and snapped the man's neck

Panting, Gersen rose to his feet In less than thirty seconds he
had killed three men Gersen took up one of the long-guns, a pistol,
a pair of daggers, then rolled the bodies into the river

He started back toward the pavilion The music had halted The
Companions, coordinated by radio-communicator, by one means
or another had been notified of trouble at the riverside

Gersen glimpsed a dozen Companions running at a crouch
from the pavilion Howard Alan Treesong stood on the bandstand,
scowling in his direction Gersen raised the long-gun, aimed, fired
a round )ust as Howard Treesong )umped from the bandstand He
whirled in midair, struck m the shoulder Gersen fired again, and
struck Howard Treesong in the groin, spinning him around again
He fell to the floor of the pavilion and out of Gersen's range of

vision

Gersen hesitated, leaning back and forth, almost irresistibly
urged to rush forward and make sure of Howard Treesong's death

Danger was too close If How ard Treesong were only w ounded,
as seemed likelv, and Gersen were captured, it would be a grisly
business He could wait no longer Dodging into the shade of the
larch trees, he ran around the pavilion to the driveway, where he

I HE BOOK OF DRK4MS 89'

crouched among the parked \ehicles Three Companions ran along
the front of the pavilion, Gersen aimed, hred once, twice, three
times, and three bodies tumbled to the ground

Gersen gingerly rose to his feet and craned his neck, hoping
for another shot at Treesong

Danger hung heav\ Death was imminent Gersen retreated to
the road, crossed and took refuge m a copse of some dank local
growth A giant shape blotting out the stars descended upon the
pavilion Searchlights suddenly illuminated the entire area    Ger-
sen decided to wait no longer, infrared scanners would soon be
combing the landscape He ran to the riverside, lowered himself
into the water, and floated away to the north, secure from infrared
detection

He swam across the river and emerged a quarter mile down-
stream He climbed the bank, sodden as a muskrat, and stood sur-
veying the scene to the south    Failure once more Bitter, galling
failure For the second time he had been offered a shot at his
quarry, for the second time he had inflicted onl\ a wound

Tenders drifted down from the ship and a moment later re-
turned .The floodlights were extinguished, the ship, now a black
mass picked out by lines of illuminated ports, rose to an altitude of
a thousand feet and hovered

Within the ship, Treesong's brain would not be inactive The
alarm had emanated from the dock, where the Companions had
taken the inept musician Who was this musician whom Professor
Kutte had allowed to play in his orchestra5 Obviously, the question
would be put to Kutte, who would briskly tell all he knew the
musician was an offworlder \vho wished to be present at the re-
union

An offworlder^ He must be captured, without fail Inquiry
quickly would be made at inns, towns, transport agencies, space-
ports At Theobald Spaceport, the Flittering would be noticed,
boarded The registration, in the name ofKirth Gersen, would duly
be recorded and made known to Howard I reesong Gersen grim-
aced I Ie climbed the bank and trotted north to Glocher Wa\, then
west beside the cemetery The dead of Gladbetook, uncannil\ sen
tient m the starlight, watched him pass

\t the main street Gersen hesitated a moment, thinking of the
runabout, but Professor Kutte represented the greater urgency and
he continued along Glocher Wa\ to Kutte's house

898 rHP DP MON PRINCES

Light glowed from the front windows. Keeping to the deepest
shadows Gersen approached the house. Valdemar Kutte, in a ma-
roon dressing gown, paced back and forth, holding a towel to his
forehead. So far, thought Gersen, so good, the normalcy of the
scene made him wonder as to the accuracy of his projections The
spaceship might already have departed, with the idiot musician re-
maining as an unsolved, if trivial, mystery. .. . Nevertheless Gersen
decided to wait Behind a hedge he found concealment and settled
himself.

Minutes passed, five, ten.

The street remained quiet. Gersen stirred fretfully. He looked
around the sky, to find only stars and strange constellations. He
heaved a sigh, adjusted his position, his clothes still damp.

A faint sound from above. Gersen became instantly alert. Again'
Imminence'

Down from the sky drifted a small airboat. Soft as a shadow it
dropped to a landing in the street, ten yards from Gersen's hiding
place. Three men stepped to the ground, dark shapes m the star-
shine. For a moment they stood in muttered conversation, evidently
making sure ofKutte's house.

Gersen ran crouching behind the hedge, circled Kutte's hy-
drangea hushes, and waited behind the gatepost.

Inside the house Valdemar Kutte, in a posture of outrage and
indignation, complained of the night's events to a small plump
woman who listened aghast.

Two men came along the avenue. They turned into Professor
Kutte's yard. Gersen hit one upon the forehead with an iron garden
ornament, grappled the other and stabbed him to the heart.

There had been no sound. Within the house Professor Kutte
continued as before, striding back and forth, nourishing his hands,
pausing to emphasize some particularly heinous episode.

Gersen crept back behind the hedge to his former post. The
third man stood leaning against the skycar. Gersen stepped quietly
into the street behind him. Striking hard with the dagger, he cut
the man's spinal cord.

Into the back ot the skycar Gersen tumbled the three corpses.
He took the vehicle aloft, floated across Gladbetook, now dark and
shuttered tor the night, and settled into the yard behind Swecher's
Inn. He went quietly to his room, changed gratefully into his or-
dinary clothes, tucked The Book of Df earns into his pocket. Returning

THI' BOOK OFDREW^ 899

to the skvcar, he rose into the ni^ht and flew south toward 'I heo-
bald.

Over the Oalglish River he lowered the skycar, (ettisoned the
three Companions, then continued south.

The scattered lights of Theobald presenti} appeared below
Red and blue twmklers marked the outlines of the spaceport.

Unnoticed and unchallenged, Gersen landed the skycar beside
his Fantarnn Flitteiii'mg He went aboard and started up the flight
systems.

He considered the sky'car. If Howard Treesong found it here,
near the spot vacated by a Fantamic Fhttei-ivmg^ he would drawr the
natural and obvious conclusion. The depot official would supply
him the Flittet-wmg's registration codes, the trail would lead directly
to Kirth Gersen, care of Jehan Addels, Pontefract, Alovsms . ..
Gersen overrode the safety latch, set the controls, and let the skycar
fly off into the night.

He returned into the Flitta-ning, sealed the ports, and left the
Land ofLelander below .   \t an altitude often miles he hovered
and searched the sky. Neither macroscope, nor radar, nor xenode
detector discovered any trace ofTreeson^'s ship, which was )ust as
well, since the Flittef-wmg lacked armament

Gersen flew into the far north and landed on an expanse ot
desolate tundra, safe from Treesong's detectors, should anyone
think to deploy them.

Silence and starlight on the waste outside the observation ports
Gersen consumed a bowl of goulash and sat slumped in his chair,
profoundly tired hut prevented from sleep by a flux of queer moods.
nervous excitement slowly waning, disappointment for his failure
to kill Howard Treesong, contradicted by a grim satisfaction for
the damage he had done, which would cause Treesong inconve-
nience, anger, fear, uncertainty, and pain not a bad evening's work.
The events themselvesthey could only be comprehended in terms
of Howard Treesong's personality. . . . Taking up The Book of
Dreamy Gersen began to study the contents. He was too tired to
persist. . . He went to his couch and soon slept.

14

In the morning Gersen went out to drink a cup of tea in the

slanting sunlight. The air carried a smoky reek of fust, mud, and
aeons of slow-decaying vegetation. Low hills huddled across the
southern horizon; elsewhere a plain, half tundra, half bog, extended
as far as the eye could see. Gray-green lichen covered the ground,
punctuated by starved clumps of sedge and small black plantains
with scarlet berries. The reunion at Gladbetook School seemed far
distant in both space and time.

Gersen went into the saloon and drew another cup of tea. Sit-
ting on the top step of the exit port, in the wan light of Van Kaa-
the's Star, he once more set himself to an examination of The Book
of Dreams.

The tea grew cold. Gersen read, page after page, and came at
last to where young Howard had stopped his writing almost in
midsentence.

Gersen put the book down and looked off across the distance.
Once, Howard Hardoah had treasured this book. For Howard Alan
Treesong it would represent a memento of the sweet sad days of
his youth. And far more: it denned his being; it was precious beyond
calculation. Suppose he were now to learn of its existence? . ..
There were dozens of permutations to the situation. Howard be-
lieved that the book had been taken from him by his friend Nimpy
Cleadhoe. An all-important question: where now was Nimpy
Cleadhoe?

Gersen sat thinking: of young Howard Hardoah, frail, tentative,
sensitive; of Howard Alan Treesong, strong, radiant with confi-
dence, pulsing with vitality. Picking up The Book of Dreams, Gersen
thought to feel from the faded red cover a quiver of similar life. ...

THE BOOK OF DRK-^MS 901

On first reading, the book had seemed a rather formless pastiche.
There were personal assertions, colloquies between seven paladins,
twelve cantos of narrative verse. A late chapter revealed the lan-
guage Naomei, known only to the seven paladins, and included a
syllabary of 350 characters, by which Naomei might properly be
transcribed. Before young Howard had fully developed Naomei, the
book came to its abrupt ending.

The book apparently had occupied Howard for a period of
years. The initial manifesto occupied a page and a half: a statement
in which a sympathetic ear might find much that was vivid and
compelling, whereas a cynical spirit would hear only callow bom-
bast. So much, thought Gersen, might be said for the entire book;

final Judgment could only rest upon how closely achievement
matched youthful fantasy. In this light the term "callow bombast"
must be discarded. Feeble understatement, thought Gersen, was a
more appropriate phrase.

The book began:

I am Howard Alan Treesong. I profess no fealty to the
Hardoah ilk; T expect none. That my birth occurred
through the agency of Adrian and Reba Hardoah is an in-
cident over which I lacked control. I prefer to claim my
substance elsewhere: from brown soil like that which I now
clutch in my hand, from gray rain and moaning wind, from
radiance discharged by the magic star Meamone. My stuff
has been impregnated with ten colors, of which five are
found in the flowers of Uahane Forest and five may be
struck from the Meamone scintilla.

Such is the stuff of mv being.

For ilkness I claim the line ofDemabia Hathkens,' spe-
cifically from his union with Princess Gisseth of Treesong
Keep, from which came Searl Treesong, Knight of the
Flaming Spear.

My vistgeist2 is known by a name of secret magic.

1 Protagonist of ,1 heroic c\ cle of folktales from Vhc IScham Fjuliot, a iL.oltei.tion of sagas
and fain tales atlmowledged glani: mglv and pamfull\ h\ Teaching

2 \ term from the |argon of Teaching essentially, the idealized \ersion of one's self
Teaching defines the ustgeist rather narruuK and e\horts die individual to a lifelong
attempt to match the beatitude of die ustgeist Howard, for vistgeist, formulated an entiti
totalh emancipated from the strictures ot Teaching

902 THE DEMON PRINCES

This name is IMMIR.

May sullen rays from the dark star beside Meamone
strike liver and lights of him who utters this name to scorn.

To the following page was attached a drawing worked by an
unskilled hand yet infused with ardor and an earnest directness.
Depicted was a naked boy standing in front of a naked young man,
the boy stalwart and determined, with a bright intelligent gaze; the
young man somewhat insubstantial but effulgent with a nameless
quality compounded of daring, ardor, magical wonder.

This, thought Gersen, was young Howard's concept of himself
and his vistgetst Immir.

The next page listed a set of aphorisms, some legible, others so
erased and altered as to be unintelligible:

IN COUNTERMANDS OUT.

Problems are like the trees of Bleadstone Woods; there
is always a way between.

I am a thing sublime. I believe. I surge, and it is done.
I defeat heroes; I woo fair girls; I swim warm with glorious
longing for the ineffable. With my ardent urge I outstrip
time and think the unthinkable. I know a secret force. It
comes from within, exerting irresistible thrust. It partakes
of all gaiety, of the striding gallantry of the beautiful Tat-
tenbarth nymphs, of the soul's conquest over infinity. This
is VLON, which may be revealed to no one. Here is the
secret symbol:

THE BOOK 01^ DRFAMS

I love Glaide with the blond curls. She lives in dream-
ing, as an anemone lives in cool water. She is not aware
that I am I. I wish 1 knew the way into her soul. I wish I
knew the magic to join our dream-ways. If I only could talk
to her by starlight, afloat on quiet waters.

I can see the outlines; there are ways to control the
beast. But I have much to learn. Fear, panic, terror: they
are like wild giants who must be conquered and enslaved
to my service. It shall be done. Wherever I g-o they will
follow at my heels, unseen and unknown until I command.

Glaide!

I know she must be aware.

Glaide!

904 THE DEMON PRINCES

She is made from starlight and flower dust; she breathes
the memory of midnight music.
I wonder I wonder I wonder.

Today I showed her the Sign, casually, as if it were of
no importance. She saw it; she looked at me But she spoke
no word.

(The next few passages bore traces of erasure with passages
overwritten in a stronger hand.)

What is power? It is the means to realize wants and wishes.
To me, power has become a necessity; in itself it is a virtue
and balm sweet as a girl's kiss, andsimilarlyit is there
to be taken.

I am alone. Enemies and hurlibuts surround me, and
stare with mad eyes. They flaunt their insolent haunches as
they pass by on the run.

Glaide, Glaide, why did you do so? You are deprived
to me, you are soiled and spoiled. 0 sweet soiled Glaide!
You shall know regret and remorse; you shall sing songs of
woe, to no avail. As for the dogskm Tupper Sadalfloury, I
shall take him in the amber gondola to Slaymarket Isle and
give him to the Moals.

But it is time to think beyond.

The text passed over a page, to resume in ink of heavy purple-
black. The hand seemed more firm, the characters more regularly
formed. The next passage was headed:

M/WI RICS

The accumulation of power is a self-sustaining process.
The first accretion is slow, but increases according to di-
rection.' First, the requisite steps These are an equable and
careless fare, where nothing is revealed. During this phase
all strictures are methodically discarded. Discipline in itself
is not a corrupt concept, only discipline that is imposed

1   Direcuon" evidently signifies "personal control,' ' personal manipulation "

I HE BOOK OF DRL.4M^ 905

rather than self-calculated. Emancipation, then, is first
from Teaching, from duty, h-om setter emotions, which
loosen the power of decision.

(An evident lapse of time, perhaps several months. The ensuing
hand was tall, spiky, angular, and exuded an almost palpable en-
ergy.)

A new girl has come to town!

Her name is Zada Memar

Zada Memar.

To think of her brings a blur of enthrallment across the
brain.

She moves in a cosmos other own, colored by her own
colors and urged by her own fascinating ardors' How can
I )om my cosmos to hers^ How can I share our secrets^^
How can we merge ourselves into a unity of body and soul
and ardo^

I wonder if she knows me as I know her?

There followed several pages of extravagant speculations upon
Destiny and circumstances subsequent to a chance meeting between
himself and Zada Memar.

The next passage consisted of passionate apostrophes addressed
to the inner consciousness of Zada Memar. There was no explicit
clue as to the progress or outcome of the love affair, except in the
termination of the passage a wild burst ot emotion directed against
the environment in which Howard Hardoah found himself

Enemies surround me, they stare at me with mad eyes,
walking or loping past, or veering as if blown on the wind,
they flaunt their insolent challenges I see them through
several minds, as is useful.

The time is Now [ call on Imnur
Immir' To the tore'

\ blank page, and a division in The Book ofDfiW?i\ For want
of better terms, the foregoing could be designated Part One. Part

906 THE DEMON PRINCES

Two was indited in a firm round hand. The rasping fervor or pre-
vious passages seemed under strong control.

The apparent continuity between the final line of Part One and
the first line of Part Two would seem to be misleading.

Upon that place made sacred to myself I bled my blood, I
made the sign. I spoke the word, I called on Immir, and he

came.

I said, Immir, the time is Now. Stand together with me.
Assuredly. We are one.

Now we must set about our affairs. Let us form our com-
pany, so that each is known to each, mighty paladins all.

So it shall be. Come, stand in the ray from Meamone and
by their redolent colors let them be known.

The ray struck down upon the black gem, so that a person
of black splendor appeared; he and Immir embraced like
boon companions of old.

Here is the first paladin; he is Jena Rais the Wise, and far
of vision. He reckons eventualities and counsels the nec-
essary, without weakness, pity, ruth, or clemency.

I give you welcome, noble paladin.

To Meamone's ray Immir showed the red gem, and a per-
son wearing crimson amphruscules1 joined the three.

Here stands Lons Hohenger the red paladin. He knows and
works the executive arts. Without effort he does deeds won-
drous to the ordinary man. He is a stranger to fear. He
cries: Ah ha ha! when the falbards are raised for combat.

Loris, I accept you as my red paladin, and I promise you
feats and forays to surpass any which have gone before.

That is i?ood to hear.
Immir, who now will Join us?

1 \mphrusculcs the en.imeled tablet-- forming die shoulder insignia .md chest medallion
ot a Trelancthun Lmghl

THE BOOK OF DRE4MS

Immir used the green gem, and one wearing the green gar-
ments of an Idaspian grandee stepped to the fore. Tall and
grave he stood with hair like midnight and eyes blazing
green.

Here is Mewness, who upholds the Green: an extraordinary
paladin, supple, strange, and eerie in his manner of mind.
He conducts the madcap exploits, he performs that which
is direly unexpected. He owns to no more qualms than a
lizard and makes no explanation to friend or foe. He has
no peer in riddling mazes and also he is a most talented
musician, proficient in the several modes.

Green Mewness, will you join us as a paladin?
With great joy, and forever.
Excellent! Immir, who now?

Immir found a fine topaz and cherished it under Meamone,
and so appeared a person wearing a black halpern fetched
with a yellow plume, yellow boots, and gauntlets. Strung
over his back he carried a lute. Immir gave him greeting
and named him Spangleway the Antic.

We are fortunate indeed; here is merry Spangleway the An-
tic, to relieve us when the way is weary. In battle he is wily
and master of terrifying artifice; only Mewness can match
him for his cunning ploys and startling displays.

Immir, who else do we command?

I hold this sapphire to Meamone; I call on Rhune Fader
the Blue!

A person slender and strong, as blithe and winsome as the
sunny sky of memory, stepped forward.

Here is our gay Rhune, fair and strong and ignorant both
of despair and defeat! Sometimes he is known as Rhune the
Gentle, still he strikes hard, deep, and often, but never in
harsh rage, and he allows his captives easy repentance.

Rhune Fader, we welcome you; will you join us?

90S lilt DPMON PRINCES

All the winds and thunders, all the energetics of war, all the
ploys and plots of cunning cowards none could hold me
apart.

Then you are our sworn paladin

Immir, who else^ Are there more to add to this marvelous
troop;

One more, a person to make out the whole.

Immir held high a white crystal. I call for Eia Pamce the
White!

A person appeared wearing a black cape over body armor
of white sequins. His face was pallid and without humor,
his cheeks were hollow and his eyes showed like glimpses
of pale fire

Immir spoke: Eia, as fearsome to enemies as death itself,
speaks little. His deeds tell their own tale and terror trem-
bles in his wake. Re)oice, paladins, that Eia is one of us; as
foe he is redoubtable.

Eia Panice, I greet you and make you my brother paladin,
and we shall venture through many circumstances.

That is my hope.

Immir spoke: So then, the gallant seven' Let all advance
and clasp hands and may the bond be broken only by sorry

death'

All averred, and so was formed the noble troop, destined to
perform deeds and feats to surpass all those of yore or
hence.

On the next pages the young Howard had attempted portraits
of the Seven, with much evidence of painful reworking. The
sketches terminated Part Two of the hook.

There followed several pages of notes and memoranda, a few
written in the Naornei syllabar) Howard apparently tired of the
exertion and continued in ordinary language.

A list of descriptive titles appeared-

THE BOOK OF DRE.4MS 909

1. The Adventure at Tuarech

2 The Duel with the Sarsen Ebratan Champions

3 The Coming of Zada

4. The Insolent Pride of King Weper

5. Zada Forlorn

6. The Castle Haround

7. The Wooing of Zada Memar

8 The Seven Weirds of Haltenhorst

9. The Adventure at the Green Star Inn

10. The Great Games at Woon W^indway

11. The Dungeons ofMourne

12. Paladins Triumphant!

Whatever text Howard Hardoah had planned for the twelve
titles was not included in the book, except for excerpts and frag-
ments which occupied the pages following;, then, abruptly, two-
thirds of the way through the book, almost in midsentence, there
was no more writing.

Gersen put the book down He descended to the tundra and
paced back and forth beside the Flittef-wmg All could yet go well.
There had been failure at Voymont, and likewise at Gladbetook,
but The Book of Dreams might permit a third opportunityif he
used it correctly To any obvious bait, Howard Treesong, twice
wounded, would react wath hypersensitive suspicion.

The problem, then, was to deploy the bait where it would be
perceived as something otherwise.

Gersen halted and stood looking gloomily south. Before plans
could be formed, he must return once more to Gladbetook.

The proscriptions m regard to Maumsh airspace no longer troubled
Gersen, clearly no one made the slightest attempt at enforcement.
About the hour of noon he dropped the Flittefwing down from
behind a low cloud and into the woodland at the back of Hardoah's
Home Farm Mindful of previous frustrations, he armed himself
with care, then sealed his ship and walked to the edge of the open
land. To his right spread a large pond, to his left that strip of land
formerly worked by the Cleadhoes. As Gersen approached Home
Farm, Ledesmus Hardoah left the barn with a bucket of feed which
he tossed into the fowl run, and then returned into the barn.
Gersen went to the door of the farmhouse and knocked.

910 THE DEMON PRINCES

The door slid back to reveal the gaunt figure of Reba Hardoah.
She looked Gersen up and down with a blank expression.

Gersen greeted her politely. "Today I'm here on business, I'm
afraid. I need just a bit more information. Naturally, I'm quite will-
ing to pay for taking your time."

Reba Hardoah spoke in a nervous rush of words: "Mr. Hardoah
isn't here at the moment. He has gone into the village."

Ledesmus, emerging from the barn, saw Gersen. He put down
his bucket and ambled across the yard. "So you're back, eh? Did
you hear the news about Howard?"

"News? What news?"

Ledesmus guffawed and wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand. "Maybe I shouldn't laugh, but that crazy Howard come to
the school meeting with a gang of thugs and made everyone jump
through a hoop. Settled all his old scores, did Howard."

"Terrible, terrible," keened Reba Hardoah. "He insulted the
van Bouyers and struck Bloy Sadalfloury and acted a great cruel
villain. We've been properly shamed by a graceless son."

"Now there, lady," said Ledesmus, "it's nothing to pine over.
Truth to tell, it gives me to laugh when I think of it. That Howard
now, who'd have thought he'd turn out such a scarper?"

"It's a disgrace!" cried Reba. "Your father even now is trying
to make amends."

"He's much too upright," said Ledesmus. "Howard is nothing
to do with us."

"That's my point of view," said Gersen. "Still, it's a pity that
he brought you such bad notoriety."

"When I go to Teaching House, I'll never know where to
look," said Reba Hardoah.

"Just stare them down," Ledesmus told her. "Specify that if
they don't behave you'll complain to Howard. That should shut a
mouth or two."

"What an insane idea! But give this gentleman his information;

he's willing to pay for it."

"Indeed? WTiat is it this time?"

"Nothing of consequence. You mentioned one of Howard's
friends, Nimpy Cleadhoe."

"Certainly. So then?"

"WTiat happened to Nimpy? WTiere is he now?"

Ledesmus frowned and looked across the field to a dismal little

THE BOOK OF DRE4MS 911

house under a pair of straggling ginsaps. "Those Cleadhoes were
always queer folk, offworlder stock. Old Cleadhoe was queerest of
all; in fact he was marmelixer for Fluter Township. I don't remem-
ber all so clearly, but they didn't take kindly to Howard fighting
on Nimpy and accusing him of stealing his book; and the lady, Mrs.
Cleadhoe, come over to complain to father, who had words with
Howard, and Howard went away to make his career, and succeeded,
as we have seen."

"Ledesmus, don't say so! It's shame on us for his awful deeds!"

Ledesmus only laughed. "I wish I'd been to see it all. Think of
Maddo Strubbins with his hind parts on ice! That's rich, now!"

Gersen asked, "And what of Nimpy?"

"The Cleadhoes left, and that's all we saw of them."

"Where did they go?"

"They told me naught." He looked to his mother. "What of
you?"

"They went back whence they came." Reba Hardoah jerked
her thumb toward the sky. "Offworld. When'the old Cleadhoes
died, they called for their offworld kin to inherit the land, so the
new Cleadhoes arrived. That was before you were born. We had
little to do with them, and we can't be blamed, considering the
man's calling."

"Town eviscerator and marmelizer." Ledesmus spoke with dis-
gust.

Reba Hardoah hunched her bony shoulders and shuddered. "It
comes to us all, Teaching or no. Still, who'd be marmelizer but
someone low-caste, or offworld?"

Into the house came Adrian Hardoah. He stopped short at the
sight of Gersen and stared suspiciously from face to face. "What's
all this? Something to do with Howard again?"

"Not this time, sir," said Gersen. "We were discussing your
old neighbors, the Cleadhoes."

Hardoah grunted and flung his hat upon the settee. "Bad stock,
those folk. Never did well, never bred true. A boon that they're
gone."

"I wonder where they went."

"WTw knows? Off-planet, at least."

Reba spoke. "Don't you remember? Old Otho said he was go-
ing back where he came from."

"Yes, something of the sort."

912 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Where could that be?" asked Gersen.

Hardoah gave him an unfriendly glance. "The Hardoahs are
the lineage or Didram Fluter. I am Instructor at the College; my
mother was a Bistwider; my father's mother was a Dwint of the
nineteenth generation. Otho Cleadhoe was public eviscerator, who
turned a flat ear to Teaching. Am I then to be his crony?"

"Definitely not."

Adrian Hardoah gave a gloomy nod. "Go look at the marmels.
The first Cleadhoe stands proudfast. His plaque tells of his birth."

"Correct and exact!" cried Ledesmus. "Trust Father for wis-
dom; he's never failed yet!"

Ledesmus and Gersen drove into town in the Hardoah's old power-
wagon. Along the way Ledesmus discussed Howard's exploits at the
school reunion. His chortles of amusement indicated neither shame
nor remorse for Howard's outrageous deeds.

Ledesmus halted the wagon beside the church and led the way
into the cemetery, threading the dead convocations with the ease
of long acquaintance. "The Hardoahs and our other ilk are yonder.
Over here stands the drossoutworlders and persons of poor rep-
utation."

The time was late afternoon. In the low light the two moved
among the shadowed figures. Plaques bespoke their names to those
who after the passage of years might have forgotten them. Kassideh
. . . Hornblath . . . Dadendorf. . . Lup . . . Cleadhoe . . .

Gersen pointed. "Here's one of them."

"That's one of the old ladies. Here's Luke Cleadhoe; he'll be
the first, and there's your answer: 'Born on Bethune Preserve, out
in the Crow, a far world lost to the goodness of Teaching. In his
youth a notable outrider, by diligence he earned to the post of
disease monitor to the wild beasts, then to First Apprentice Taxi-
dermist. Arriving at Gladbetook, he diligently worked the farmlands
and nurtured a family of several souls, all sadly impervious to the
truths of Teaching.' So there you have it," said Ledesmus in tri-
umph-

As they walked back through the cemetery toward the church,
Gersen chanced to notice the marmel of a voung girl. She stood
straight, head turned a trifle to the side as if she were listening for
a far sound, a voice or a bird call. She wore a simple gown; her
head and feet were bare. Her plaque read: Zada Memar, unfortunate

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

913

child, taken from her loving family almost before her first bloom. Woe
and alas for this poor maiden!

Gersen called Ledesmus's attention to the marmel. "Do you
remember her?"

"Yes indeed! At the school outing she wandered off into the
woods and they found her in Persimmon Lake. A pretty thing she
was!"

The sun had set low behind the line of deodars; the marmels
stood in gloom.

Ledesmus said suddenly: "Time to move along! Here's no place
to loiter after dark."

15

From The Avatar's Apprentice, in Scroll from the Ninth
Dimension 

Surrounding the pedestal: a low mound, agglomerated
from the shards of false effigies across a hundred centuries.
The latest of these, in the likeness ofBermssus, lay toppled,
with one mighty leg thrust high. Marmaduke, standing to
the side in a robe of brown frowst, was moved to a tear of
sad recollection.

Now the effigy of Holy Mungol was brought forward
and raised on high, to be exalted by the throng.

The Warkeep of Gortland climbed to the plinth. He
raised his arms and called out in a brazen voice: "Victory
at last and forever' Mungol stands on high; the holy and
the true guard our land! For all eternity so it will be' Let
there be )oy'"

The host responded with jubilation, uttering deep-
throated shouts and dancing m circles. The Wind Lords
struck their shields with mailed fists; the Bracha skirled
their noblest tunes. Arrayed in glistening mists the Pru-
desses rang bells and made signs, the Little Wefkms re-
joiced.

Again spoke the Warkeep. "All is complete! The par-
apets are guarded by our mighty Vencedors; Bernissus is
less than nothing: the remembered smell of a latrine in a
diseased leper's nightmare'

"But of the past no more' Holy Mungol stands on high
and casts his sublime gaze across eternity. Let each take up

FHE BOOK OF DRK4MS

his loot and march in glory to his home' Blue Men to the
east; Green Men to the west. I with my Cantarurces fare
north!"

The host gave a final glad cry and dispersed, each
marching his preferred way. A single group of seven persons
set off to the south across Maudly Waste, toward Sesset.
They were: Chathres, a flat-faced lumpkin with burly shoul-
ders and a lewd tongue; three Lygons Ordinary: Shalmar,
Bahuq, and Amaretto, Implissimus, Knight of the Blue Ker-
lanth; Rorback the glutton, and Marmaduke. It was an ill-
assorted troop and a surly one, for none had taken loot.

Faring across the waste they encountered a train of
three wagons laden with the plunder of Molander Abbey.
The commander was Herman the one-eyed vagabond. He
and his henchmen were given short shrift, and the band set
about dividing the spoils.

In the front wagon Marmaduke discovered the delight-
ful Sufnt, who had caused him such heartache at the Grand
Masque. To Marmaduke's dismay Chathres insisted that
Sufnt be considered a segment of his plunder, and his ar-
guments won the day.

With sly forethought Chathres told Marmaduke:

"Since you have expressed dissatisfaction with the arrange-
ments, divide the spoils as you will, into seven lots, and each
shall choose that lot which suits him best."

"What is the order of choosing^"

"The order is determined by lot."

Marmaduke set about dividing the booty. Sufnt whis-
pered into his ear. "You have been tricked. The lots will
determine who chooses first, but you must choose last, as
you are arranging the division, presumably, into parts of
equal value."

Marmaduke uttered a cry of consternation. Sufnt said.
"Listen then! Place me in one lot, alone. Divide all treasure
into five lots. Into the last lot place Herman's three iron
keys, his shoes, his drum, and other valueless oddments.
These naturally will fall to you Make sure you keep the
keys, but abandon all else "

Marmaduke did as he was bid. By trickery the salacious
Chathres won first choice and with a grand flourish took

I HP DF \10N PRINCES

Sufnt for his own. The others chose lots of gold and gems,
and Marmaduke was left the oddments

Suddenly it was discovered that the draft beasts had es-
caped and, worse, that all the water bags had been slashed
with a knife and hung empty.

Furious talk was heard and accusations were exchanged.
"How can we reach Sesset, w^ich lies five days hence across
the burning waste5" cried Chathres.

"No matter," said Sufnt. "I know of a fountain not far
to the south. We will reach it by sunset."

Grumbling and already thirsty, the band took up the
loot and staggered to the south. At dusk they came to a
fertile garden surrounded by a high iron w^ll which none
could scale by reason of poison spikes A single postern
afforded entrance, which one of Marmaduke's keys con-
trolled.

"What luck'" cried Chathres. "Marmaduke's foresight
has helped us all'"

"Not so fast," said Marmaduke "I demand a fee for the
use of my key. From each of you I will take your best
jewel."

"I have no jewels!" cried Chathres. "Must I then re-
main outside to become prey to wild animals5"

"What can you offer5"

"I have only my sword, my garments, and my slave girl,
whom you may not have, and no warrior of honor would
part with his sword "

"Then give me your garments, every last stitch and
strap."

So it was done and Chathres entered the garden naked
as an egg, to the amusement of all.

"Laugh now," Chathres told them "Tonight I shall
take pleasure with mv slave girl. Then who will be laugh-

mg5"

For supper the band ate fruit from the trees and drank
copiously of clear cold water Then Chathres took Sufnt
among the trees and set about his lascivious endeavors. But
the iron walls surrounded a sacred grove and whenever
Chathres attempted a lewd act a great white bat fle\v down
to buffet him with its wings, until Chathres at last desisted

THE BOOK OF DREA MS

and Sufnt WAS allowed to sleep undisturbed Chathres, how-
ever, found no comfort m the chill air of the desert night.

The next day, still lacking water bags, the group con-
tinued to the south, Chathres annoyed by the rays of the
sun as well as sharp pebbles and thornbushes.

At sunset Sufnt guided the troop to an abandoned mon-
astery to which only Marmaduke's key gave access.

On this occasion Chathres was obliged to yield his
sword before Marmaduke allowed him through the portal.

During the night Chathres again tried to use Sufnt for
his pleasure, but a ghost came from the ancient stones and
sat on his back, and Chathres was distracted from his intent.

In the morning the troop set off to the south, Chathres
suffering greatly from sore feet, insect stings, and heat blis-
ters. Still, he never released the rope which he had tied
around Sufnt's waist.

An hour before sunset the band entered a ravine which
almost at once narrowed to a defile. A flight of stairs led
high to a locked door, which Marmaduke's third key
opened at a nvist Each of the troop passing through the
portal gave up a choice gem except Chathres, who gave over
to Marmaduke the rope attached to Sufnt. "She is yours,
along with all my other goods. Let me pass."

Marmaduke instantly removed the rope "Sufnt, you
are free. I supplicate your love but not your submission."

"You shall have both," she told him, and they clasped
hands.

The troop continued along a narrow path. From a
grotto sprang a rock devil "How dare you use my private

 n

way

' "Be calm," said Sufnt "We will pay toll."

For herself and Marmaduke she paid over the sword
and garments once owned by Chathres. Each of the others
gave up a jewel, except Chathres, who cried out- "I cite my
naked body in evidence' I have nothing. 1 cannot pay."

"In that case," said the devil, "you must step into the
grotto."

The others hurried along the way, the better to escape
the sound of Chathres's appalling outcries.

At last the way came out upon a pleasant land Roads

THE DEMON PRINCES

918

led off in several directions. The comrades took leave of
each other and went their separate ways.

Marmaduke and Sufrit stood hand in hand considering
the various directions. One of the roads dropped into a
green vale, rose again, and slanted across the downs toward
a steeple marking a dear and familiar village. Marmaduke
stared in wonder. "That is the road I would travel," he told
Sufrit. "Will you come with me?"

Sufrit looked along another road which led to a place
she knew well, but none there did she love. "Yes, Marma-
duke, I will come with you."

"Hurry then, and we'll be home before sunset!"

And so it was. They ran joyously along the road to
home, while the light faded behind them. At tea, only Pin-
nacy asked awkward questions, but they said they'd been to
a fancy dress party, and that was all there was to it.

Later, events of this particular time tended to blur in Gersen's
memory: a consequence of fatigue and the necessity of constantly
contriving new plans on the ruins of old. Howard Alan Treesong
had become a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing elusively ahead, ever out of
reach.

Once again in space, Gersen repressed the urge to make for
Pontefract, there to ponder new schemes and perfect his acquain-
tance with Alice Wroke.

Instead, he brought out the Celestial Handbook. Bethune Pre-
serve was the single planet ofCorvus 892, a yellow dwarf, in a group
of a dozen such stars. The system as a whole controlled fourteen
planets, uncounted planetoids, moons, and fragments of debris, of
which Bethune Preserve alone supported life.

Bethune had been discovered by locater Trudi Selland. Her
description of its phenomenal flora and fauna caused a public sen-
sation, and prompted the Naturalist Society to instant negotiations,
which ultimately led to purchase outright. Centuries passed, during
which Bethune Preserve became in effect a planet-sized vivarium.

From the Handbook Gersen read:

At the present time Bethune Preserve is a curious mixture:

ten parts nature preserve, five parts tourist attraction, three
parts headquarters for the Naturalist Society, its affiliates,

THE BOOK OF DRK4A1S 919

and a dozen other organizations such as: Friends of Nature,
Leave Be, Scutinary Vitalisis, Life in God Church, Sierra
Club, Biological Falange, Women for Natural Procreation.
A few residential tracts had been allocated for the use of
these groups, as well as scientists, students, and research
fellows. In practice, almost anyone who finds the conditions
of Bethune Preserve congenial is allowed temporary resi-
dence, which may be extended indefinitely.

Today Bethune Preserve comprises over six hundred
game and nature reserves, jealously guarded in their original
state, ranging from an entire continent to that acre sup-
porting the single and unique lillaw tree, whose provenance
is a total mystery.

The Executive Trustees today are as zealous as their
predecessorssometimes heard are the words "arbitrary,"
"pedantic," "vindictive," "capricious," "obstinate." They
rule the world as if it were a private natural history museum,
which in fact it is.

In compliance with the local requirements, Gersen drifted close
to one of the ten orbiting quarantine stations. He was boarded by
four officials in uniforms of blue and green. The FlitU'fwing was
searched; Gersen was questioned in regard to contraband life forms
and instructed in local regulations. A pilot remained aboard to guide
the Flittering down upon a plat at the Special Visitors Compound
near the city Tanaquil. Here Gersen was required to post a bond
and forbidden to introduce, sequester, molest, capture, modify, an-
noy, or export living entities of any sort. He was then allowed to
proceed about his business.

From the space-field Gersen rode an omnibus into Tanaquit,
through a grove of enormous black-trunked trees burdened with
vermilion flowers and alive with small twittering creatures, who
jumped, swung, and glided across high sunlit spaces. The omnibus
was evidently their ancient foe; a troop followed overhead, twitter-
ing and pelting the vehicle with fruit pods.

The bus continued into Tanaquil, a town unexpectedly quaint,
like a town built of children's blocks in bright primary colors. The
original scheme had been conceived by the chairwoman of an an-
cient architectural board, who derived inspiration from the illustra-

920 THE DEMON PRINCES

rions in a children's book. She had laid down the architectural
parameters to which "concordance"' must be achieved.

Gersen took lodging at the Hotel Triceratops, a tourist inn notable
for a stuffed saurian twenty feet long, with six splayed legs and two
horns, popularly known as Triceratops Shanar.2

Gersen made inquiry of the desk clerk. "I want to locate an old
acquaintance, but I don't know where he lives."

"No difficulty whatever. Apply to the Registry. There aren't all
that many of us; all told, fewer than five million. But you won't find
anyone there now; they'll all be at lunch."

In the dining room, which was decorated to resemble a pri-
mordial forest, Gersen was served a stolid meal, based upon stan-
dard cosmopolitan cuisine, though the individual dishes all carried
picturesque local names. He drank beer from a bottle labeled SAV-
AGE MAULER ALE, which exhibited the picture of a hideous brute
glaring at a distant tourist charabanc.

At the Registry, Gersen was efficiently provided the addresses
of two Cleadhoes, both resident upon the continent Rheas, in a
place known as Blue Forest Gamp, within the Grand Triste Prim-
itive Reserve.

Gersen had noticed the Halcyon Vista Tourist Service in a
building adjacent to the hotel, but when he applied at the office, it
had already closed for the day; it seemed that the business com-
munity of Tanaquil operated in a fashion convenient to themselves
rather than their customers.

Gersen returned to the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon
on the shaded veranda, watching tourists, locals, and great floating
insects: wispy creatures of froth, film, and trailing tendrils depend-

1. Concordance: a concept basic Co the nincnoning of Bethune society. The Trustees
govern Bethune Preserve in "concordance" with the old regulations.

Trustees are selected from "Notable Organizations," in which membership is
hereditary. These onctime naturalist groups now serve principally to denominate ihe
aristocracy.

Caste distinctions, while mild and nonresirictive, are real. Tourists are outcastes and
lack cni-rv into local society.

By a curious .ind amusing inversion of values, those persons performing physical
nmctinns in regard tu the animals and orher nature oh|ectspsirk rangers, veterinarians,
biologists, hcrders, plant pathologists. and the likerank low in status.

2. Bethune taxonomy, while precise, lacks verve. Popular terms carry more impact. Shanar
is one of the Bethune continents.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

921

ing from a gas bladder. He drank a succession of gin pahits and
wondered how best to approach the business at hand.

If he apprised the Cleadhoes of his plan, they might help, they
might hinder, or they could inflict total disaster upon him. He
sorted through a hundred possibilities; then as the sun settled into
the forest, he threw his hands into the air. He could make no def-
inite plans until he knew more about the Cleadhoes.

In the morning Gersen returned to the Halcyon Vista Tourist Ser-
vice, where the clerk smilingly informed him that only qualified
scientists on specially approved expeditions were allowed the hire
of air vehicles.

"No end of troubles otherwise, sir," explained the clerk.
"Think it out for yourself! We'd have little family picnics in the
middle of the Gunderson Wallows, with baby eaten by a three-
armed swamp ape, and daughter raped by the game warden."

"Then how can I get where I want to go?"

"Tourists are recommended to book aboard one of the Wild
Life Inspection Safaris, in a totally safe and air-conditioned vehicle.
That is the easiest and best way to visit the preserves. But where
do you want to go? You must understand that many areas are off-
limits."

"I want to go to Blue Forest Camp in the Grand Triste Prim-
itive Reserve."

The agent shook his head. "That is not an area developed for
tourist travel, sir."

"Suppose you yourself wished to visit Blue Forest Camp, how
would you go about it?"

"I'm not a tourist."

"Still, how would you do it?"

"I'd naturally take the commercial flight to Maundy River Sta-
tion, and the day flight into the forest. But"

Gersen put a fifty-SVU certificate on the counter. "I'm not a
tourist, I'm a commercial traveler. I sell insect repellent. Get me
the tickets. I'm in a hurry, incidentally."

The agent smiled and shrugged and put the certificate into a
drawer. "It does no good to hurry here. In fact, it may even be
against the law."

922 THE DEMON PRINCES

Blue Forest was a heavily wooded savanna, rather than an unbroken
growth of trees, and occupied the basin of the Great Bulduke River,
an area of half a million square miles. The forest foliage was only
predominantly blue, in three hues: ultramarine, bright sky blue, and
pallid chalk blue. Additionally, certain trees showed foliage of
beetle-wing green and a few were gray. Enormous soft-winged
moths moving through the sunlight created a teasing flicker of
crimson and black. Beasts were numerous- The herbivores were
protected by bulk, armor, speed, agility, stench, nailing arms, bris-
tling horns, or poison glands. Carnivores displayed equipment to
overcome the defenses. Various sorts of scavengers skulked through
the shadows.

The Junction of the Lesser Bulduke and the Haunted River
occurred in a network of sloughs and swamps, inhabited by an ex-
travagant variety of creatures: large, small, fearsome, mild, with and
without yellow wattles, with and without gaping purple maws.
North of the swamp rose a low tableland, the site of Blue Forest
Camp.

Gersen walked from the airport to town along an unpaved road
guarded by a pair of ten-foot fences, which held back vegetation
and beasts but permitted the free passage of insects. Heat and hu-
midity oppressed the air, which smelled of twenty unfamiliar odors:

vegetation, soil, animal essences.

The fence struck off to either side at right angles to enclose
the town. Gersen went to the Corporation Circuit Hotel and en-
tered a lobby dim and cool. Without comment he was assigned a
room by a morose young woman, who took his money and jerked
her thumb toward the hall. "Room four." Keys were considered
unnecessary.

Gersen's room was clean, cool, sparsely furnished, and well
screened from the outdoors. An old town directory lay on the table.
Gersen turned the pages. He saw:

Cleadhoe, Otho
Cleadhoe, Tuty

Residence:

Employment:

Residence:

Employment:

20 Perimeter
Post-station Workshop
20 Perimeter
Commissary

Gersen went out into the little central square. The town was
quiet; few folk were abroad. Across the street a gaunt structure
showed a sign: COMMISSARY.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 923

Gersen looked through the door. He saw an elderly man and a
portly black-haired woman with thick black eyebrows, a heavy nose,
and an uncompromising manner. The affairs of a customer occu-
pied her attention; Gersen turned away. The Commissary was not
an appropriate place to meet Tuty Cleadhoe.

In the center of the square a refreshment stand sold cold drinks
and ices. Gersen obtained a pint of cold fruit punch and seated
himself on a bench.

For an hour he waited while the folk of Blue Forest Camp went
about their affairs. Children trooped past on their way home from
school; persons entered the Commissary and departed. The sun
dropped into the west.

From the Commissary came Tuty Cleadhoe. She walked briskly
away to the south part of town.

Gersen followed, along a lane shaded under great spreading
trees. Tuty Cleadhoe entered a house close by the peripheral fence.

Gersen waited ten minutes, then rang the doorbell. The door
slid back and Tuty Cleadhoe looked out. "Sir?^

"I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Indeed." Tuty's dark eyes snapped as she looked Gersen up
and down. "To what purpose?"

"You formerly were resident at Gladbetook in Maunish?"

After a short pause. "Yes. A long time ago."

"I have just come from there."

"That is of no interest to me. I have only bitter memories of
Gladbetook. You must excuse me. The neighbors will wonder at
my talking to a strange man." She started to close the door.

"Wait!" cried Gersen. "You lived near the Hardoah family?"

Tuty Cleadhoe looked through the narrow gap. "That is true."

Gersen found himself proceeding faster than he had intended.
"Do you remember Howard Hardoah?"

Tuty Cleadhoe stared at Gersen a long ten seconds. She re-
sponded in a thick voice: 'T do indeed."

"May I come in? I am here in connection with Howard Har-
doah."

Tuty Cleadhoe grudgingly stepped aside and made a gesture.
"Come in then."

The interior of the house was dim, stuffy, and, for so warm a
climate, overfurnished. Tuty pointed to a chair upholstered in rose-

924 THE DEMON PRINCES

pinkvelour. "Sit, if you will. . . . Now then, what is this of Howard
Hardoah?"

"Recently I had occasion to visit the Hardoah farmstead, and
the conversation turned to the subject of Howard."

Tutv Cleadhoe looked incredulous. "Howard lives at home?"

"No. He left long ago."

Tuty thrust her head forward. "Do you know why?"

"Trouble of some sort. That's mv guess."

"If I could have put my hands on him"she extended her
hands with fingers clenching"I would have torn him into bits."

Gersen leaned back in his chair. Tuty spoke on iu a voice hiss-
ing with passion. "He came to our house; he called to our son,
softly, so that we should not hear. But we heard. He called out our
one chick, our boy Nymphotis, who was so meek and good. They
went to the pond and there Howard drowned our little son, held
him under the water.

"I had a terrible feeling; I called, 'Nymphotis! Where are you?'
I went to the pond, and there I found my lovely child. I pulled out
the little bedraggled corpse and carried him home. Otho went to
find Howard, but he had already gone."

Gersen asked, "Howard never knew that you suspected him?"

"There was no suspicion. It was certainty!"

"But Howard never knew?"

Tuty made a fierce controlled gesture. "How could he know?
He was gone. It was our tragedy."

Gersen said, "I did not know Nymphotis was dead. I'm sorry
to revive bitter memories."

"You revive nothing' We live with them daily. Look!" Tuty's
voice cracked with emotion. "Look!"

Gersen turned his head. In a shadowed corner of the room
stood a boy formed of a glossy white substance.

"That is our Nvmphotis."

Gersen turned away. "I will tell you something of Howard Har-
doah and what he has become, and how justice may be done upon
him."

"Wait! Otho must hear you. If you think I am bitter, he sur-
passes me fourfold." She went to a telephone, made a connection,
and poured a tumble of words into the mesh. P'rom time to time a
man's voice uttered a question. Tuty gestured to Gersen.

"Now speak! We both will hear you."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

925

"Howard Hardoah is now a great criminal. He calls himself
Howard Alan Treesong."

Neither Tuty nor Otho Cleadhoe made comment. "Go on."

"I have tracked him across the Oikumene. He is wary. He must
be lured and baited with great care. I have failed twice, but now I
have the bait to lure him again. Here your help would be useful."

Gersen paused. Otho said, "Go on."

"I don't want to continue unless you feel able to help me. There
will be danger."

"You need not worry for us," said Otho. "Tell us what you
have in mind."

"You will help?"

"Tell us what you have in mind."

"I want to bring him here, take him out into the jungle, and
kill him."

Tuty said in an angry voice: "There is nothing for us to do!
You will confront him, you will kill him! It is for Nymphotis that
he must pay!"

"No matter," said Otho in a heavy voice. "We will help."

16

From The Book of D? earns

Gentle and gracious is Blue Rhune Fader, yet when
moan the winds of war, Rhune's sword drinks as deep as
any When the land is quiet, then Rhune wanders the flow-
ered fields and sings songs of music

Not so Lons Hohenger, the feroce, whose color is the red-
dest of the reds' His ardor needs always a strong control,
his truculence balances on a hair Only the paladins know
his tolerance and his true affection All others, when in his
company, walk as if on eggshell His lusts are intractable,
he plunders fair ladies of their treasure, usually to their
delight, but occasionally to their distress, as with golden-
haired Mehssa, who had vowed her virgimt} to the glory
ofSancta Sanctissima Zada Memar, of fabulous beauty, ex-
cited him past all control, hut she gave herself to Immir
And Lons was first to hold high his sword in praise' Gallop
forward along your mad and reckless murst,' oh Lons, on
and ever on'

Arriving in Pontefract, Gersen rode b\ taxicab to Tara Square,
where he alighted \round him, on all sides, order and rectitude
narrow old buildings, pallid folk in formal garments, pansies and
wallflowers in raised beds, mist, overcast, dank winds and smells,
all placid, customan, and reassuring    At a public telephone,

1 The meaning of this ftun.1 like others in Thi Hoof. i) Dmim^ can onh he LoniLcnirni
(Must lir^enLV VHthi.f/i-f in Old Russii a leagm \- irtetchnl hut who Lnims )

THE BOOK Or DKI^ WS

927

Gersen called the Extant offices and was connected to Maxel Rack-
rose, who was serving as interim managing editor

Rackrose gave Gersen a greeting at once cordial and cautious
He reported that, in general, all went well with Extant, credit for
which he ascribed to himself

"I'm glad to hear all is going well," said Gersen "I suppose I'd
better check in with my secretary "

"Your secretary3" Rackrose's voice sounded puzzled "Who is
that?"

Gersen's heart sank "Alice Wroke The redheaded girl. Isn't
she at Extant anymore2"

"Oh yes, I remember," said Rackrose "Yes indeed Alice
Wroke Girl, sport-model, redheaded She's gone "

"Gone where^"

"I haven't a notion    I'll look m the hook   . You're in luck
She's left a letter addressed to you "

"I'll be right there "

Fhe envelope was inscribed

To be given into the hand of Hem-y Lucas only
The letter read

Dear Henry Lucas

I discover that I am not really interested in journalism
Therefore I have resigned my position with Extant I am
staying at Gladen's Hotel, Port WTwary, which is south
along the coast

Alice Wroke

Gersen telephoned Gladen's Hotel at Port Wheary Miss
Wroke was not in but was expected back m an hour or so

At a rental station Gersen hired an air-car He flew south along
the coastline, following the wavering white line created b\ wallows
of gray water crashing up and over the rocks, across St Kilda's Bay,
over Cape Mav and Point Kittery He passed Hannah's Head )ust
as Vega shone through a rent in the clouds to illuminate the white
houses of Port W^hearv across Polwheel Bay

Gersen landed at the public plat, walked along the waterfront
to Gladen's Hotel

928 HE. DEMON PRINCES

In the lounge by the fireplace he found Alice Wroke. She
turned her head, saw him, and started to rise.

Gersen crossed the room He took her hands, pulled her to her
feet, kissed her face, then put his arms around her.

"Henry7, stop'" cried Alice Wroke. She gave an excited laugh.
"You're smothering me'"

Gersen relaxed his grip "You needn't call me Henry anymore.
Henry is |ust a mailing address. This is me."

Alice drew back and looked him up and down. "Does this ver-
sion have a name3"

"It's called Kirth Gersen and it's less of a gentleman than
Henry Lucas."

Alice inspected him again. "I enjoyed Henry Lucas, even
though he was arrogant and hateful. What of you-know-who3"

"He's still alive There's a lot to tell. Will it keep until I've had
a bath and changed my clothes3"

"I'll call Mrs. Gladen and she'll give you a room. She's very
respectable, so don't do anything to shock her."

Gersen and Alice dined by the light of candles in the corner of the
veranda. "Now," said Alice, "tell me your adventures."

"I went to Howard's school reunion at GIadbetook on Moud-
ervelt. Howard played ;okes and danced the hornpipe. He criticized
the performance of a musician in the orchestra. The musician shot
him in the backside and the party ended."

"And where were you?"

"I was the musician."

"Ah' It's all clear now. What else happened3"

"I found Howard's Book of Dfeamf, which he lost twenty-five
years ago I'm sure that he wants it back." Gersen pushed the old
red notebook across the table. "There it is "

Alice bent her head over the book The candlelight burnished
her hair and cast shadows along her slanted cheeks. Gersen sat
watching her Here sit I, he thought, across the table from mirac-
ulous Alice Wroke. .

Alice turned pages. She came to the end and closed the book
After a few moments she said "Almost always he is Immir. But I've
metJeha Rais and Mew ness and Spangieway, and I've had a glimpse
or two of Rhune Fader, who paid me no heed. I'm happy that Lons
Hohenger was otherwise occupied "

THE BOOK Of DRUM^

Gersen put the book back in his pocket Alice mused "Zada
MemarI wonder what happened to her "

"She came to GIadbetook from offplanct IMule on a school
picnic she drowned in Persimmon Lake "

"Poor Zada Memar I wonder. "

Gersen shook his head "Not I "

Alice looked at him, her eyes dark in the candlelight "What
do you mean3"

"I don't wonder at all."

In Comiopoli^ appeared an article accompanied b\ se\cral illustra-
tions. The heading read

HOWARD ALAN TREFSONG ATT ENDS
25TH ANNIVERSARY SCHOOL REUNION
A Party No One W^ill forget

E\en Criminals Show Sentiment

The Greater the Criminal, the Greater the Sentiment
by our local correspondent,
GIadbetook, Maumsh,
Moudcrvelt, Van Kaathc's Star

(Editorial note Mannish is one ot 1,^62 independent prin-
cipalities comprising the political estates ol Moudenelt Its
landscape includes prairies, nverlands, farms, and forests,
supporting nearly a million persons. Howard Alan ^ rec-
song uas born on a tarm near the village Gtadbetook.)

Twenty-h\e years ago a shy brown-haired ho\ known as
Howard Hardoah attended the district Ivceuin at Gladbc
took That hoy is now the preeminent criminal of the Oik-
umene and Beyond, and is reckoned as one ol- the notorious
"Demon Princes" His name, Howard Man I reeson^.
strikes terror into a multitude ot- hearts, and his exploits
ha\e n\etcd the attention ol c\ervone But Howard Alan
Ireesong still icmembers old times, and with no lack ol
nostalgia \.t the recent reunion ot his class he made a dra-
matic appearance, e\okmg from his old school chums what
best can be dcscubed as mixed emotions

y.H) TUP; DEMON PRINCES

The event will never be forgotten, and, if only in this re-
gard, must be considered a great success. Early in the eve-
ning Howard IIardoah (as he was known at school) became
convivial and roamed from table to table telling anecdotes
and recalling old incidents, sometimes to the discomfort of
his audience.

As the evening progressed, Mr. Hardoah's spirits soared to
ever higher levels of fun and audacity. He played merry
tunes on the fiddle; he danced several gavottes, a hornpipe,
and a twitcherv. Mr. Hardoah's revelries knew no limits and
totally captivated the group. He ordained ingenious pranks
and charades to celebrate old episodes; these were dutifully
performed by his now-nervous classmates, to whom his ul-
timate intentions were never quite clear. He sat Mr. Maddo
Strubbins on a block of ice; he tattooed Air. Bloy Sadal-
floury; and he arranged to escort Mrs. Suby ver Ahe with
her two charming daughters, Mirl and Maud, on a long
cruise through the outer worlds.

The festivities were interrupted by a gang of marauders
who shot Mr. Hardoah in the buttocks and caused such
consternation that the party came to an end. Mr. Hardoah
departed in pain. The wound will surely curtail his dancing
for some time to come. Mr. I lardoah expressed outrage that
in a presumably well-ordered community such crass acts of
violence could take place. He hopes to return to the next
reunion, providing that it could be terminated less abruptly,
inasmuch as he had staged only a few of his ingenious fri-
volities.

In the next issue of CosrfiopoHs:

HOWARD ALAN TREESONG

His Memorabilia and Boyhood

(Editor's note: A recent article relating to the notorious
Howard Alan Treesong evoked much comment. The fol-
lowing communication, so we hope, may also be of interest
to our readers.)

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

To the Editors of Cosmopolis:

I read your recent article about the school reunion at Glad-
betook with great interest, inasmuch as my son Nymphotis
was a school chum of young Howard Hardoah. It is strange
how life works out. The two boys were inseparable, and
Nimpy, as we called him, often spoke of Howard's talents
and skills, and his dearest possession was a little book of
fancies, The Book of Dreams, which Howard gave to him.

Our little lad died in a swimming accident shortly before
we left Maunish and we still have The Book of Dreams to
remind us of the old days on the prairie. We find it hard
to imagine Howard Hardoah, so shy and careful, becoming
the person you describe, but in our lifetime we have known
many surprising events; more so, I believe, than most peo-
ple, since we have traveled from place to place, and even
now hardly know where we will die. W^e think often of our
poor little Nimpy. If he had lived, perhaps now he might
also be a person of consequence.

Please do not include my name and address,
cope with correspondence at this time.

T

as I cannot

Respectfully,
TutyC.

(Full name and address withheld by request.)

Into the Cosmopolis office came a spare and saturnine man of
indeterminate age, wearing a neat black suit cut in the local style:

pinched at the shoulders and flaring at the hips. He moved with
the quiet deftness of a cat. His eyes were black, his face was hollow-
cheeked and narrow. Dense black hair grew to a widow's peak, then
coved back over his temples and down past his ears. He went to
the reception desk, looking alertly to both sides as he did so, as if
from long habit. The clerk asked: "Sir, how may we oblige you?"

"I'd like a few words with the gentleman who wrote about Mr.
Howard Treesong a few weeks ago."

"Oh, that would he Henry Lucas. I believe he's in his office.
May I ask your name, sir?"

'"Schah'ar."

THE DEMON PRINCES

932

"And the nature of your business, Mr. Schahar?"
"Well, miss, it's somewhat complicated. I'd prefer to explain it

once only to Mr. Lucas."

"Just as you like, sir. I'll ask if Mr. Lucas can see you now."
The girl spoke into a mesh and received a response. She looked

back to Schahar. "Will you have a seat, sir? He'll see you in five

minutes."

Schahar sat quietly, his black eyes nicking here and there

around the room.

A musical tone sounded. The receptionist said: "Mr. Schahar,

if you please."

She conducted Schahar along a hall and ushered him into a
room with pale green walls and a lavender rug. Behind a kidney-
shaped table lounged a stylishly pallid man with a languid face
framed by glossy dark ringlets. His clothes were a confection of
superb elegance; his manner, like his expression, was languid and
just short of supercilious. He spoke in a toneless voice. "Sir, I am
Henry Lucas. Please seat yourself. I don't think I know you. Mr.
Schahar, I believe."

"That is correct, sir." Schahar spoke easily in a neutral voice.
"You are a busy man and I will not take too much of your time. I
am a writer, like yourself, though certainly neither as competent

nor as successful."

Gersen, noting Schahar's strong shoulders, long sinewy arms,
heavy hands with long strong fingers, controlled a smile of grim
amusement. Schahar exuded a psychic aura of lethal expertise, of
stabbings and strangulation, of terror and pain. Schahar had been
present at the school reunion, standing at the entrance with the
short thick man. Gersen recalled an event of months before when
Lamar Medrano of Wild Isle had met Emmaus Schahar at Starport,
New Concept. She had departed the Diomedes Hotel with him and
had never been seen again.

"Tush," said Gersen. "1 am not a writer; I am a journalist.

What is your particular field?"

"General affairs. Facts and personalities. I have recently become
interested in Howard Alan Treeson^ and his amazing career. Un-
fortunately, facts are hard to come by."

"I have found it so," said Gersen.

"The article on the school reunionyou wrote that, I believe?"

"Our local correspondent submitted ten pages of very excited

THE BOOK OF DKE4MS 933

prose, which I cobbled together as best I could. For information
about Treesong, Maunish would seem the place to go."

"I may well take your advice. What of this woman and her Book
of DreamsY^

Gersen gave an uninterested shrug. "I haven't looked into it.
The letter is around here somewhere. I seem to have been desig-
nated the Treesong expert." Gersen opened a drawer, withdrew a
sheet of paper, glanced at it. Schahar leaned forward.

"An old exercise book or something similar," said Gersen.
"Probably nothing remarkable."

Schahar held out his hand. "May I see?"

Gersen looked up as if in surprise and seemed to hesitate. He
frowned down at the letter. "Sorry, I think I'd better not. The
woman doesn't want to be identified. I can't say that I blame her,
with so many cranks and crackpots running loose." Gersen replaced
the letter in the drawer.

Schahar drew back, smiling a faint smile. "I'd like to collect any
and all information available on this particular subject. My main
interest is Howard Treesong's early lifehis formative period, so
to speak. I am anxious especially to examine such trifles as The Book
of Dreams.^ Schahar paused, but Gersen responded only with a non-
committal nod.

Schahar went on, speaking with a persuasive urgency: "Suppose
I undertook to approach this woman in the capacity of a writer
submitting to Cosniopolis, would you then allow me her address?"

"Your efforts would far exceed your profit, that's my opinion.
Why not visit Gladbetook on Moudervelt and make inquiries of his
old acquaintances? That would seem more fertile scope for re-
search."

"Again, that is excellent advice, sir." Schahar rose to his feet,
paused a moment, and seemed to sway slightly forward.

Languidly Gersen also arose. "I have an appointment else-
where, otherwise I'd be happy to discuss the matter with you at
greater length. I wish you success."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Schahar left the room.

Gersen waited. An instrument to the side of his desk sounded
a tone. Gersen smiled. He arranged a telltale to the drawer of his
table, then turned a key in the antique lock. Clapping a triple-tier
Aloysian hat on his head, he departed the room, strolled down the

934 THE DEMON PRINCES

corridor past a pair of unoccupied offices. Behind one of the doors
stood Schahar, so the signal-tone had informed Gersen.

Gersen walked at a leisurely rate around the block, then re-
turned. He went directly to his office. Standing to the side, he slid
open the door.

No explosion, no hiss of projectile.

Gersen entered the room. The telltale at the drawer had been
disarranged. The lock showed no evidence of tampering; Schahar
was a skillful operator. Gersen opened the drawer. The letter re-
mained as he had left it; Schahar had been satisfied with the name
and address.

Gersen went to the telephone and called Alice. "It's happened."

"Who came?"

"A man called Schahar. I'm going directly to the spaceport."

Alice's voice was neutral. "Take care of yourself."

"Of course."

Gersen threw the hat toward a chair, changed from his tight-
shouldered suit into spaceman's ordinary, and left the Cosmopolis
officeperhaps for the last time.

A cab took him to the spaceport and out the access avenue to
the Fantamic Flitferwing. It had been cleaned, washed, polished,
overhauled, inspected, and provisioned. The ports had been scraped
clean of space dust. The linen had been renewed, the tanks were
full of water, the bins loaded with food. The support systems had
been recharged; the energy cells were replete.

The Fantamic Flittey-wing was ready for space.

Gersen climbed aboard, closed the port, stepped into the sa-
loon. His nose detected the faintest of perfumes. He looked to right
and left.

Nothing extraordinary.

He took three strides to the stateroom: empty. He threw open
the door to the head. "Out with you."

Wearing mouse gray shorts and a black tunic, Alice marched
forth. "So there you are," said Gersen.

"So it would appear," said Alice.

"I half expected this." Gersen pointed to the port. "Off the
ship with you."

"Absolutely not. I've decided never to let you out of my sight
again. You might not come back." She stepped close to him and
looked up into his face, "Don't you want me aboard?"

THE BOOK OF DRI-'AMS

935

"Oh, I'm sure I'd find you useful. Still, it's dangerous "
"I know."

"Well, I can't waste time arguing. Now that you're here . . ."
Alice gave a triumphant laugh. "I knew you'd see it my way."

17

Bethune Preserve hung in space full in the light of Corvus 892
Gersen eased the Flitterwmg close up beside one of the orbiting
stations No pilot was immediately available, he was ordered to

stand by

Alice grumbled about the formalities "I don't intend to molest
their animals' I told them so but I don't think they believe me "

"Howard will be even more vexed He can't simply show up in
his battle cruiser and throw his weight around "

"Perhaps he'll arrive as a tourist Perhaps he won't dare to come

at all "

"I can't see him sending Schahar down for his precious Book of
Dreams In any event you'll have to stay in Tanaquil, out of the
way, if he catches one glimpse of you, we're in trouble "

Alice put on a submissive face "Whatever you say Still, you
yourself said I don't look like Alice when I'm dressed as a boy, with
my hair covered "

"We'd better cut off your hair and dye the stubble black "

"That's not necessary I'd be a funny-looking sight You'd laugh
at me, I'd be angry and there would go our romance "

Gersen put his arms around her "That's a chance we can't

take "

"Of course not   WTiat are you doing3 Stop' You've chased
me around the ship twice today already'"

" rhere's nothing else to do You bring it on yourself, really "
"Aren't you afraid I'll wear out^    No^ Oh well
The pilot presently arrived and took the vessel down to Ta-
naquil, despite Gersen's request to put down at the Blue Forest
Camp airport

THE BOOK OF DKZL-1US

"Sorry," said the pilot "That's not regulation "

It occurred to Gersen that even third word the pilot spoke was
"regulation " 1 he pilot went on "We can't make it convenient,
you know Everyone would be tracking about, picking flowers, tcis
mg the monkeys 1 ounsts must go about their visits with decorum
and respect Personally I'd keep the blighters out altogether "

"Then there'd be no one to inflict your regulitions on and
you'd be out of a )oh "

The pilot turned Gersen a blue-eyed stare He decided Gersen
had intended a )oke and laughed "I'd make out one way or another
I'm not fust a flight attendant, you know In fact, I'm a fourth-level
type and reckoned an expert on the pathology of the segmented
melantid-worm "

Alice asked, "In that case why are \ou here piloting and not
out taking care of sick worms3"

"There aren't that many worms They hide deep in the mud
where they are hard to catch Then, like as not, they are quite well
I may quality for a second specialty In the meantime, I do oui
regulation stint with the company    Here we arc at the terminal
Leave all weapons and contraband aboard your vessel 'Now, it
you'll alight I'll seal the doors "

Gersen and Alice, each carrying a small travel bag, alighted,
underwent further examination and search, and were finally issued
clearances

At a wicket marked OIIKI-\L \\D LIMI1ID ( OMMI R< l\l
i R^NSI I, Geisen attempted to book passage to Blue I orcst Gamp
aboard the Station Service Flier The clerk refused to listen to him
and pushed back his money "You'll ha' e to apply to the designated
authorities, we're very keen here on orderly methods "

"Out of curiosity, when is the next departure for Blue Forest
Camp3"

"Two departures today, sir, middle afternoon and shortly after,
by the left- and right-hand routes "

By open-sided omnibus Gersen md -Mice rode into town under
tall jacarandas and drupes, pursued by hysterical tree creatures

'Vt the I lalcyon Vista Tourist Service Gersen found i new clerk
in attendance a self-important young worn in vuth nairow eves and
supercilious nostrils She instantly declared Gersen's request im-
possible and tried to sell him tickets on ^ ounst Schedule Route C
Gersen used persistence and reasoned argument, after ten minutes

IIIF DFMON PRI\CFS

of grim research into travel regulations the woman could find no
stipulations expressly supporting her position and grudgingly issued
a pair of passage vouchers

The spaceport omnibus had gone out of service for the day
Gersen located the town's only taxi, and the two returned to the
spaceport, arriving only ten minutes prior to the early flight

Two hours later the flier dropped down upon the (ungle com-
pound north of Blue Forest Camp The door opened, into the cabin
came a waft reeking of the swamp

Gersen and Alice alighted, the flier departed into the south, and
they stood alone in the )ungle clearing.

"The middle of nowhere," said Gersen " 1'his way to the vil-
lage "

From the Corporation Circuit Hotel Gersen telephoned Tuty
Cleadhoe at the Commissary "I'm back again All is going accord-
ing to plan Have you had word yet from, let us say, anyone else3"

"Nothing yet " i'uty's voice was harsh "We await him with
hope and anxiety You have the book3"

"I'll bring what I have to your house, in say, half an hour "

Tun7 made a peevish tskm^, sound "We have regulations here.
I can't leave my work on an instant's whim' . Well, if I must, I
must I'll make an excuse "

Gersen told Alice, "Mrs Cleadhoe has strong views, in fact,
she's obstinate and suspicious " He examined her critically "You'd
better wear something drab and inconspicuous "

Alice looked down at herself She wore gray spaceman's
breeches, black ankle-boots, a dark green shirt "What could be
more drab and inconspicuous than this3"

"Well, pull that hat down over your hair and try to look like a
boy"

"Mrs Cleadhoe might well be more suspicious than ever "

"I'm also thinking of Howard Treesong," said Gersen "If he
sees red hair he'll think 'Alice ' It would be better if you stayed here
at the hotel "

"We've been through this before."

"Stay in the shadows Talk in a low gruff voice "

"I'll do my best "

From his carrying case Gersen took various bits and pieces and
stowed them about his person Alice watched without comment.
Ciersen finally said, "These are weapons, all invoking poison Take

THE BOOK OF DRE/l WS 9^9

this and be very careful with it " He gave her a bit of glass tube
four inches long "If someone you don't like comes close, aim the
tube toward his face and blow into this end Then, move as far
away as possible "

Alice soberly tucked the rube in the chest pocket of her shirt

They left the hotel and walked around to Tuty Cleadhoe's cot-
tage She had been watching, the door opened as they approached

Tuty's heavy face clouded with surprise at the sight of Alice
"Who is this3 And what3"

"Her name is Alice Wroke She is my colleague "

"Hmmf Well, it's none of my business Come in "

The room had changed from Gersen's previous visit in a single
particular Nimpy's marmel no longer stood wistfully on the dais

Tuty gave a grim nod "Nimpy is gone for the while Now then,
where is the book3"

Gersen gave her a red notebook inscribed The Book of Dreams
Tuty glanced through the pages She looked up in annoyance
"There's nothing here'"

"Naturally not Do you think I'd risk the real book so easily3
It is a facsimilebait, so to speak "

Tuty said grimly, "It is enough You need do nothing more
Otho and I have formed our plans Nothing is left to chance You
should go back to Tanaquil and wait. When the work is done you
will be notified "

Gersen laughed "You may have formed plans but so has How-
ard He is a professional "

"I have no doubt How would you deal with him3"

"Sooner or later he'll show himself here When he does, I will
kill him "

Tuty stood, arms akimbo, hands on her sturdy hips "Indeed,
indeed How will you do this without weapons3"

"I could ask you the same "

"I have a gun, a Model J pro)ac It will blow the head off a
thrombodaxus "

"Will you allow me the use of this gun3"

"Certainly not' Regulation strictly forbids it Nor would Otho
approve .  How long before Howard comes3"

"I don't know I came as fast as possible I suspect that he will
do the same There won't be much time between us "

Alice pointed out the window "No time at all.  Look "

940 THE DEMON PRINCES

Along the street came Schahar, and behind him a short, thick
man with heavy shoulders and a near-neckless head.

"Those are two of Howard's men," said Gersen. "Do you still
think you can cope with them?"

"Certainly. Here he comes! Into the back room with you. And
not a sound!" She hustled them into the back parlor and pulled the
door shut. Light through a side window shone on a photograph of
young Nimpy, in a silver frame, resting on a nearby library table.

Gersen tried the door, which refused to move. He cursed under
his breath. "The old fool has locked us in!"

Alice looked at the window. "It's small. But I could squeeze
through."

"The door isn't all that solid. We can break through any time
we like."

"Shh. Listen."

From the front room came sounds of conversation.

"You are Tuty Cleadhoe?" This was Schahar's voice.

"What of it? Who are you? No one I know."

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, I am traveling secretary"

"Go to the hotel. I don't want strangers about. I'm not alone;

I have a great gun ready for intruders. Be off with you."

"for a noble and important gentleman, who wants to speak
with you, I'm sure to your profit."

"An important gentleman? I know no one like that. What's his
name? And if he's so noble why doesn't he come here himself in-
stead of sending you?"

"Like yourself, Mrs. Cleadhoe, he doesn't care to deal with
unpredictable people. He is also nervous and timid. Guns alarm
him, so please"

"Be off with you and your affronts' And be quick, before I
nervously and timidly blast off your leg! I am old and alone, but I
take no abuse from bald-headed tourists!"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cleadhoe. I'm sorry to offend you. Please
don't flourish your gun so freely. One question; are you the 'Tuty
C.' who recently wrote to Cosmopolis magazine?"

"What of it? WTiy should I not write as I wish? What harm
have I done?"

"No harm whatever. You brought good luck to yourself as you
will see, if you put away your gun and compose yourself; then I will
ask my principal to join us."

THE BOOK OF DRI^IMS

941

"And then it'd he two against one? Ha-ha. No chance of that.
Send in this noble timid gentleman and don't come back. The gun?
I'll put it bv, unless it wants use."

"I'm sure you'll find no cause for alarm, Mrs. Cleadhoe, and
every reason for satisfaction."

"I can't imagine why or how."

No response from Schahar, who evidently had departed. Gersen
put his shoulder against the door, which creaked and groaned. At
once a loud rap sounded on the panel. "You two stay quiet! You
are not to interfere with our plans! Not a sound now; someone's at
the door."

Gersen muttered under his breath. Alice said, "Shh. Listen. I
think it's Howard."

They heard the sound of the outer door opening and Tuty's
voice: "Sir, and who are you?"

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, you don't recognize me?"

"No. Why should I? What do you want?"

"I'll refresh your memory. You wrote to a-magazine about old
times in Gladbetook and a certain chum of your Nymphotis."

"You're not Howard Hardoah? But I see it now! How you have
grown! As a boy you seemed so frail! Well, think of that! I must
telephone Otho! A pity he can't be here."

Inside the back room Gersen, clenching his teeth in frustration,
put his hand to the door latch. Alice pulled him back. "Don't be
foolish! Tuty would shoot you without a second thought! She
knows what she's after."

"So do I. It's not this."

"Shh! Be reasonable."

Gersen again put his ear to the door.

"a marvel how the years go by!seems so long ago and far
away! But how you've changed, so handsome and fine you've be-
come! But come in, do, and I'll pour us a drop of something.. . .
Here's some good old fructance. Or would you like tea and perhaps
a bite of cake?"

"That's very good of you, Mrs. Cleadhoe. I'll take a drop of
fructance. . . . That's more than enough."

"Have some of these little cakes. I can't imagine how you found
me here, or why. . . . But of course. My letter to the magazine."

"Of course! It brought back old memories, things I hadn't
thought of in years. Like the little book you mentioned."

THE. DEMON PRINCF.S

942

"Oh dear yes! That funny little red book! What a fanciful lad
you were, so full of dreams and glamours' The Book of Dreams
that's how you named your book!"

"True! I remember distinctly. I'm anxious to see it again."

"And you certainly will. I'll find it in a moment, but you must
Join me in my meal. I was just about to cook up some hotchpotch
Gladbetook-style, and a dish of lessamy. I hope you haven't lost
your taste for home cooking?"

"Worse, far worse! I've taken a stomach ailment and I'm re-
stricted as to what I eat. But don't let me interfere. Cook up your
own dinner and meanwhile I'll glance through my old red book."

"Let me think now, what have I done with it? ... Of course,
it's at the station, where Otho does his Grafting. He works such
long hours, it's a pity and disgrace! But there are so few qualified
nowadays, and Otho is at it night and day. He'll be so pleased to
see you! Surely you can spend the week here with me until he comes
out of the jungle! He'd never forgive me if I let you go."

"A week? Oh, Mrs. Cleadhoe, I truly can't spare so much time!"

"Now then, I have a nice spare room, and I'm sure you need
the rest. And then you'll be able to see Mr. Cleadhoe. I'll have him
bring your book when he comes. We'll have such good gossips over
old times."

"It sounds delightful, Mrs. Cleadhoe. but I can't spare so much
time. Still, I'd like to see Mr. Cleadhoe. Where is the out-station?"

"It's away through the jungle, a good hour's ride on the railcar.
Tourists naturally aren't allowed anywhere near."

"Really? Why not?"

"They bother the beasts, or give them unwholesome food.
Some of these beasts are under experiment; we keep them close
under observation and provide their food. Mr. Cleadhoe does things
just so."

"A pity he can't come in from the station tonight. Why not call
him on the telephone?"

"Oh no. He'd never hear of it. The connections are wrong, in
any event."

"How so?"

"By afternoon there's a feed train that tends for sick animals.
It goes out to the station and returns by morning; that's routine
and won't be changed. Sometimes I drive it out and stay the night

THE HOOK OF DR^MS

when the regular driver wants time to himself. He always reim-
burses me for my lost time at the Commissary."

A pause, then came Treesong-'s voice, light and easy: "Why not
drive us out tonight? It would be a great experience for us. Of
course I'd reimburse your expenses."

"And who do you mean by 'us'?"

"You, me, Umps, and Schahar. We'd all like to see the station."

"Not possible. Tourists aren't allowed at the station; that's a
strict regulation. One person besides the driver can crouch in the
back cab and not be seen, but not three."

"Couldn't they ride elsewhere?"

"Among the slops and swill? Your friends would not like it' It's
against all regulation!"

Another pause. Then: "Would fifty7 SVU cover your expenses
at the Commissary?"

"Of course. They don't overpay us, that's a sad truth. Still, we
don't complain. Our cottage comes without rent and I get a nice
discount at the Commissary. Look in tomorrow and if there's any-
thing you fancy, I can get it at a good price. If you don't care to
go out to the station without your friends, why not Just stay the
week? Otho would be distressed to miss you."

"Actually, Mrs. Cleadhoe, time presses me hard. Here's fifty
SVU. We'll go out this afternoon."

"Well, there's not much time for arrangements. I'll have to
telephone here and there like a wild woman. And perhaps I should
have something for Joseph to close his mouth. He's the regular
driver. That way we're on the safe side. Can you manage another
twenty?"

"Yes, I think so."

"That should suffice. Now then, take your friends back to the
hotel, then meet me with your overnight kit at the terminal; it's
just a hundred yards along the road. In half an hour, no laterand
don't approach until I signal, in case Superintendent Kennifer is
strolling about. . . . Oh, and I must call Mr. Cleadhoe to tell him
we're on our way, and to air the extra room. If it's jungle you want,
it's all there at the station. Perhaps tonight we'll see a lucifer or a
scorposaur. Hurry then, be off with you. In half an hour, at the
terminal."

The door closed. Tuty Cleadhoe approached the back parlor.
"You two in theredid you hear?"

THE DEMON PRINCES

944

Gersen threw his shoulder against the door; it burst open. Tuty
Cleadhoe stood back holding the blaster in both hands, her squat
body braced and her face creased in a grin. "Stand back there! Make
a move and I'll blow you up! I don't care a whit about you! Live

or die! So stand back!"

Gersen spoke with dignity. "I thought that we were in this

business together."

"So we are. You brought Howard here; I'm taking him out to
Mr. Cleadhoe and we shall see. Now sit down yonder, as I must
make my arrangements." She jerked the gun. Alice pulled Gersen
to a couch and the two seated themselves.

Tuty nodded and went to the telephone. She made several calls,
then turned back to Gersen and Alice. "Now thenas for you"

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, listen to me. Don't take Howard Treesong for
granted. He is clever and dangerous."

Tuty swung her heavy arm. "Bah. I know him well. He was a
haunted little milksop who bullied girls and little boys and finally
destroyed my Nimpy. He hasn't changed. Cleadhoe and I, ha-ha,
we're glad to see him. Now up with you, and remember, you're
nothing to me whatever." She herded them into the kitchen and
opened a door. "Into the cellar, quick-time."

Alice took Gersen's arm and dragged him through the door,
down a steep stairs, and into a concrete-walled space smelling of
strange molds, old paper, and condiments.

The door shut; the bolt jarred home. Gersen and Alice were

left in the darkness.

Gersen climbed back up the stairs and listened at the door.
Tuty had not moved. Gersen could picture her standing foursquare,
gun at the ready, balefully watching the door. A half minute passed;

the joists creaked as Tuty moved away.

Gersen groped around the head of the stairs, hoping to find a
light switch, without success. He thrust on the door, which creaked,
but withstood the relatively slight force he was able to apply from
his unbalanced position.

Gersen groped through the darkness. Floor joists above, oth-
erwise nothing substantial. He descended the ladder. Alice's voice
came muffled through the darkness. "There doesn't seem to be
much down here. I don't feel any other doors. Just cases full of old

junk."

"What I want is a plank or a length of timber," said Gersen.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 945

"There's nothing but the cases, and some boxes and old rugs."

Gersen explored the cases. "Let's unload these things. If I can
stack them on the landing so that I can somehow get my back to
the door and my feet against the joists . . ."

Ten minutes later Gersen clambered up the rickety construc-
tion. "Don't stand below. This is quite precarious. . . . Ah." Lying
back, he put his shoulders to the door, kicked up, and found a joist
with his feet. He straightened his legs, thrusting with his thigh
muscles. The door burst open and Gersen tumbled backwards into
Tuty Cleadhoe's kitchen.

He picked himself up, helped Alice up the stairs, then paused
to sort through Tuty Cleadhoe's cutlery. He selected two heavy
knives, which he tucked into his belt, and netted a cleaver.

Alice found a cloth bag. "Put it in this. I'll carry it."

They went to the front door, looked up and down the street.
Seeing no one, they stepped out into the droning afternoon.

Keeping to the shadows the two set off toward the railcar ter-
minal: a cluster of dilapidated structures a hundred yards ahead.

"Tuty will be angry if things go wrong," Alice remarked. "She
is a vehement woman."

"She's a conniving old harridan," said Gersen. "Slowly now.
We don't want to be seen."

A heavy fetor assaulted their noses, a smell sour, ripe, rich, and
rank. Looking through the foliage they discovered the origin of the
odor. By a hopper stood a portly white-haired man with heavy-
lidded eyes and a placid expression. He controlled the flow of pink-
gray pulp sliding from the hopper into a vat on a railcar. He worked
a lever; the flow ceased. A small locomotive backed close and cou-
pled to the vat. Under the locomotive's observation cupola sat Tuty,
peering over her shoulder and manipulating the throttle.

The man at the hopper waved his arm, turned away, and walked
into a workshop. Tuty pulled back the throttle; the locomotive and
vat-car moved ahead. Howard Treesong raised himself and settled
into the goods compartment behind Tuty. From behind a bush
came two men: Schahar and Umps. They ran behind the vat-car,
swung themselves up to the small rear platform. The cars rolled
around a curve and out of sight.

Gersen went to the workshop. The portly man looked up and
gave a peremptory jerk of the thumb. "Sir, no public allowed here."

946 THE DEMON PRINCRS

"I'm not the public," said Gersen. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Clead-
hoe."

"You've missed her. She's just taken feed out to the station,
along with her nephew."

"We're in the same party. It seems we've arrived a bit too late.
Is there another locomotive which could make the trip?"

Joseph pointed to a rusty old mechanism, dented and bent, sup-
ported on blocks and bereft of wheels. "There's old Number Sev-
enteen, down for repair. One of these days I'll put on new drive
wheels, when time and money come together."

"How far is the outstation?"

"It's a good seventy miles by the track. Shorter airwise, but
there's not a flier in town. Quite illegal, for reasons of ecology and
frightening of the beasts."

"Seventy miles. Ten hours at a steady run."

"Ho ho!" chortled Joseph. "You'd run maybe a mile before an
eye would push up from the mud, then a messenger arm sixty feet
long, ending in grab-hooks, and away you'd go through the air,
over to the mud and down; and then what happens, who knows?
Devil a soul has come back to tell!"

Alice pointed across the shop. "What's that thing?"

"That's the track inspector's go-cart. It won't pull freight, but
she'll go lickety-split where the track is level."

Gersen walked around the contraption: a platform on four
wheels with a pair of cane seats under a hemispherical visor
splotched with the juices of smashed insects. The controls were
starkly simple: a pair of handles, two toggles, and a dial. "It's not
beautiful, but it rolls along fine," said Joseph with modest pride. "I
built it myself."

Gersen produced a crisp certificate, which he handed to Joseph.
"I would like to use the go-cart. Mr. Cleadhoe will be anxious to
see us. Is it ready to go?"

Joseph inspected the certificate. "It's not covered by regulation.
In fact"

"There'll be another twenty for you tomorrow when we return.
The Cleadhoes wouldn't like to miss us, and that's more important
than regulation."

"You don't work for the Corporation! Nothing is more impor-
tant than regulation."

"Except life and money."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

947

"True. Well, I hereby forbid you to use the cart. The black
handle is throttle, the red handle is brake. The toggle controls
switches in the track. The first fork to the left goes north to the
observation post at Salmi Swamp. The second fork goes right and
down to the breeding wallows of the red apes. The third fork
switches off through the feeding meadow and back around to the
station: so it's right, left, then either way. Now I'm going home,
and I'm not looking back. Still, remember, you've been warned off
the premises."

Joseph turned and marched from the shop. Gersen climbed
aboard the go-cart. He pushed the black lever; the can rolled for-
ward. Alice quickly jumped up beside him. Gersen advanced the
throttle; the cart rolled away from the station and into the jungle.

18

From Life, Volume II, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

"Intelligence" demands the most strict of definitions,
since the word is easily and often abused. Intelligence rates
the quality of Gaean man's competence at altering environ-
ment to suit his convenience, or, more generally, the so-
lution or problems. The corollaries to the idea are several.
Among them: In the absence of problems, intelligence can-
not be measured. A creature with a large, complicated brain
is not necessarily intelligent. Raw abstract intelligence is a
meaningless concept. Secondly, intelligence is a quality pe-
culiar to Gaean man. Certain alien races use different
mechanisms and processes optimally to rearrange their en-
vironment. These attributes occasionally resemble human
intelligence, and, on the basis of results achieved, the effec-
tive organs seem to serve analogous purposes. These simil-
itudes almost always are deceptive and of superficial
application. For the lack of a more precise and universal
term the temptation to use the word "intelligence" incor-
rectly is well-nigh irresistible, but can be countenanced only
when the word is set off by quotes, viz: my own monograph
(which I include in the appendix to Volume Eight of this
slight and by no means comprehensive series). Students se-
riously interested in these matters may well wish to consult
the monograph: A Comparison of Mathematical Processes as
Employed by Six "Intelligent" Alien Races.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

949

The vehicle had been built of odds and ends, scraps and make-
shifts. The right-hand stringer was a length of tungsten fiber pipe,
w^ile the left-hand stringer was hacked from jungle hardwood. A
slab oi magnesium hexafoam provided support for the seats, these
originally a sofa with orange and blue cushions. The hemispheric
windscreen was a reclaimed skylight; the wheels were a stock com-
missary item, for the repair of wheelbarrows, carts, and the like,
with a flange welded around the inner circumference. Despite all,
the vehicle ran smoothly and quietly, and Blue Forest Camp was
left behind.

For the first few miles the track led through a floral tunnel of
a hundred colors, permeated by shafts and sifts of afternoon light.
Drooping fronds, dead black on top, transmitted ruby red light;

other fronds showed gradations of blue, green, yellow. Stalks of
black-and-white tubing moved back and forth, thrusting their round
black fronds this way and that for maximum impingement of sun-
light. In open places moths floated on many-layered wisps of gos-
samer, black and crimson and lemon yellow. Other flying things,
golden blurs, darted past in a hiss of air.

The jungle became broken. The tracks led across clearings and
meadows dappled with ponds, each with its resident water bull:

great mottled creatures with horns and shovel-snouts, which they
used to enlarge their ponds. A trestle built of concrete posts and
timber laterals took the track across a series of bogs crusted over
with pale blue scum, or alternately a carpet of angry orange stalks
supporting spherical spore pods.

Beyond the bogs the ground rose to become a savanna. Ro-
dentlike creatures in carapaces armed with prongs and barbs grazed
the turf in bands of twenty or thirty. Often these were attended by
ten-foot bait-apes: white-skinned creatures splotched with black fur.
Sinuous black printhenes skulked through the meadows on splaved
legs. These were voracious, cunning, and capable of prodigious feats
of savagery7; still, they avoided the vile-smelling bait-apes.

The track led up a slope and ran across a plain of coarse black
and green grass clumped with thorn tree. Bands of spindly rumi-
nants wandered the open areas, nervously alert for printhenes or
packs of scalawags: ravening, pounding, yelping creatures half liz-
ard, half dog. A dozen kinds ot ruminants moved across the savanna,
the largest an armored monster twenty feet tall supported on a
dozen short legs. In the hazy northern distance a pair of apelike

HIE DF.MON PRINCES

950

saurians thirty feet tall overlooked the landscape with an eerie sem-
blance of brooding intelligence. A mile to the south a flock of bird-
like bipeds fifteen feet tall, scarlet-crested, flaunting bright blue
tails, ran after a bewildered myriapod and hacked it to pieces with
beaks and spurs.

The tracks led directly across the plain, diving at half-mile in-
tervals under animal pass-throughs. The electric guards were now
paralleled by a second electric fence fifty feet to either side of the
track.

The sun hung low in the sky, sweeping the landscape with a
halcyon unreal illumination, and the creatures of the land, rather
than horrid reality, seemed more the subjects of an imaginary, if
macabre, bestiary.

The tracks stretched clear and empty; the feed train had passed
from view. Gersen pulled the throttle open; the cart lurched for-
ward at great velocity, jumping, bounding, and shivering to irreg-
ularities in the track. Gersen reluctantly reduced speed. "I don't
want to take this thing into a ditch. It's too heavy to carry out and
it's too far to walk."

Mile after mile, and still no sign of the feed train. To right and
left spread the savanna. Four double-headed browsers watched from
sensors at the ridge of their humps.

A mile ahead the track plunged into a dark forest; at the edge
of the shade sunlight glinted for an instant on the housing of the
locomotive.

"We're gaining," said Gersen.

"And what do we do when we catch up?" asked Alice.

"We won't catch up." Gersen estimated the distance ahead.
"We're only a few minutes behind. Still, I'd like to be a bit closer.
Howard won't be able to explain Schahar and Umps; there might
be trouble right away, unless he's a very smooth talker."

At the edge of the forest, the tracks wound back and forth to
avoid outcrops of rock. Gersen reduced speed, accelerating when
the tracks stretched empty ahead.

A post beside the track supported a white triangle; almost at
once the track switched, one fork leading to the north, the other
continuing directly eastthe direction the feed train had taken, by
the evidence of the open points.

A mile along the track another fork led to the south; as before
the feed train had proceeded east. Gersen became even more vig-

THE HOOK OF DRE4MS 15

ilant; the feed train could not be far ahead. As before he increased
speed along straightaway^, cautiously slowing and peering around
curves.

Another white triangle appeared beside the track. "The third
fork," said Alice. "Station to the right, feed lot to the left."

Gersen braked the cart to a halt. "The feed train has gone left.
See the switch points? We'd better follow."

For half a mile the tracks led north through a forest. Gaps in
the foliage revealed yet another savanna stretching awav to the east.
The tracks curved east and slanted down upon the savanna.

Alice pointed. "There's the feed train!"

Gersen braked the cart to a halt. The feed train passed over an
unloading device, in an area unprotected by the electric fence. Tutv
stopped the locomotive, uncoupled the vat-car, and proceeded. A
valve in the bottom of the feed car opened, discharging the pulp
into a trough.

On the back of the car Schahar and Umps rose to their feet, to
stare in dismay after the departing locomotive: Then they turned
to examine the creatures which from all directions converged on
the feeding trough.

A twenty-foot halt-ape, with head half bear, half insect, lurched
forward at a shambling trot. Schahar and Umps jumped down and
ran toward a tree. The ape caught Umps and lifted him by the leg
into the air. Umps kicked out in a frenzy and drove his heel into
the creature's proboscis. It threw Umps to the ground, jumped up
and down on his torso, pounded the body with its fists. Then it
turned away and looked toward Schahar, now perched in the lower
branches of the tree, where he attracted the attention of a spiderlike
reptile which inhabited the upper branches. It dropped a long gray
arm which it swung toward Schahar, who yelled in alarm, drew a
knife, and hacked. When the spider-reptile descended by swift ac-
robatic swings, Schahar jumped to the ground, dodged to escape
the bait-ape, which then pulled at the spider-reptile's tentacle. The
spider-reptile jumped from the tree, wrapped itself around the bait-
ape's head, flourished high its sting, and thrust it home. The bait-
ape keened in pain, tore at the tentacles with monstrous arms. The
tentacles clutched tighter; the sting struck again. The ape banged
the spider-reptile into the tree trunk, again and again, reducing it
to pulp, and finally tore it loose. The ape staggered away, save a
convulsive bound, and fell into a heap. A band of scavengers, at-

THE UF.MON PRINCES

952

tracted by the outcries, loped forward. Noticing Schahar, they cir-
cled him, yelling, Jumping, biting, and Schahar presently was pulled
down to disappear under a seethe of animals.

Gersen spoke in a rueful voice. "Do you think Tuty knew that
those two were riding behind her?"

"I don't care to guess."

The train with Tuty and Howard Treesong had disappeared
into the jungle at the far side of the meadow. The feed car now
blocked the track. "We've got to go back to the fork," said Gersen.
He pulled on levers and toggles. "Where is reverse gear?"

He searched in vain. The throttle controlled forward motion;

the brake brought the car to a stop. Gersen jumped to the ground
and tried to lift one end of the cart, without success; it carried
ballast to hold it to the tracks. He tried to push the can, but the
slope defeated him.

"This is absurd," said Gersen. "There must be a way to go
backward. ... If I had a length of timber I could pry the car off the
tracks. But I'm afraid to go into the forest."

"It's getting dark," said Alice. "The sun is going down."

Gersen went to the edge of the track bed and looked into the
foresthigh, low, right and left. "I don't see anything. . .. Here I
go."

"Wait," said Alice. "What is this little gadget here?"

Gersen returned to the cart. At the center of the platform a
handle turned a worm gear. "Alice, you are an intelligent girl. That
is a jack, which lifts the cart high enough so that we can swivel it
around, end for end."

Alice said modestly, "I thought that perhaps I might be helpful,
or even indispensable."

Five minutes later they returned the way they had come, to the
third switch, and now they turned east, and drove at full speed
through the twilight.

A mile, two miles, five miles . . . The forest abruptly became a
soggy moor. Ahead the sunset glimmered on a wide loop of river.
The track led across a bridge of metal bars, evidently electrified to
inhibit the creatures of the bog.

Inside the compound the track led past a commissary store, a
dispensary, and a row of six small cottages. A few yards farther stood
the laboratory, which overlooked the swamp and, beyond, Gorgon
River.

THE BOOK OF DRIiAMS

953

The track branched into a siding. Gersen coasted up behind the
locomotive and stopped. For a moment the two sat listening.
Silence.

At Blue Forest Camp Howard Treesong said in a voice of jovial
camaraderie: "The passenger compartment? Nonsense, I'll ride up
forward with you!"

"A pity, but it can't be done," said Tuty. "Suppose Superinten-
dent Kennifer should happen by? You sit in the back and crouch
till we're in the jungle. Then relax and enjoy the ride. Watch for
marshmallow moths and water flowers."

Treesong climbed into the compartment behind the driver's
cupola and made himself inconspicuous. The train moved away
from the terminal. If, from the corner of her wide-set eyes, Tuty
had noticed Schahar and Umps as they clambered aboard the swill
car, she gave no sign.

Through Jungle, across savanna, in and out of the dark forest,
rolled the feed train. At the third switch, Tuty swung north and
out upon the feed meadow, which was rarely used except when
biologists intended experiments. But tonight Tuty had decided to
feed the animals. Almost without halting the train she detached the
feed car. Howard Treesong jumped to his feet in the back com-
partment and stared out the rear window. Tuty Cleadhoe never so
much as looked over her shoulder. Howard Treesong, shoulders
sagging and ashen of face, sank once more into his seat.

The train trundled into the station, rolled across the compound,
and halted beside the laboratory.

Tuty climbed to the ground, grunting and wheezing. Howard
Treesong alighted from the passenger compartment and stood
looking around the compound.

Tuty called out in a brassy voice: "So then, Howard! How did
you find our lovely countryside?"

"It's not at all like dear old Gladbetook. Still, it's quite pictur-
esque."

"True. Well then, let's find if Mr. Cleadhoe is expecting us
with a nice supper. I do hope he's put out his pets. He's a wonder
with animals, is Mr. Cleadhoe. Come along, Howard, the night
bugs will be after us in another minute."

Tuty led the way to the laboratory. She slid back the door.

954 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Otho, we're here! Make sure Ditsy is out. Howard won't care to
be annoyed by any of your charmers. Otho? Are you about?"

A gruff voice said: "Tush, woman, of course I'm about. Come
in. ... So this is young Howard Hardoah."

"Isn't he changed? You'd never recognize him!"

"That's a fact." Otho Cleadhoe stepped forward on long thin
legs, standing six inches taller than Howard Treesong. Cleadhoe's
great head was bald on top, harsh and craggy, with an untidy ton-
sure of gray hair, a stained gray beard, and eyes in deep lavender
sockets. He fixed Howard Treesong with a long stare of impersonal
appraisal. Howard ignored the inspection and looked around the
room. "And this is your laboratory? I'm told that you're now an
important scientist."

"Ha, not altogether. I'm still a practitioner of my old trade, but
now both my subjects and my methods are different. Come along,
I'll show you some of my work while Mrs. Cleadhoe puts out our
soup."

Tuty called out in a voice of brassy jocularity: "Ten minutes,
then, and no more! You've all evening to show off your trophies!"

"Ten minutes, my dear. Come, Howard .. . Through here, and
watch your head. These arches weren't built for tall men. Let me
take your hat."

"I'll wear it, if I may," said Treesong. "I am very sensitive to
drafts."

"A pity. . . Well then, along this route we take Tanaquil dig-
nitaries who come to learn how we spend the public money. I might
add that they never leave dissatisfied. This is the Chamber of As-
tinches."

Howard Treesong inspected the room with his eyes heavy-
lidded. Otho Cleadhoe, if he noticed Treesong's unenthusiastic
manner, paid no heed. "These are all varieties of astinche, the Be-
thune andromorphs, a local evolutionary development. The genus
is especially rich on Shanar and in this particular neighborhood.
They vary in size up to the thirty-foot giant you see there." He
indicated an alcove. "I processed the creature almost single-handed,
with trifling help from my staff. I worked in an atmosphere of ar-
gon, under germicidal conditions. I skinned the beast, marmelized
the soft tissues, reinforced the skeletal frame, and refitted the pelt."

"Remarkable," said Treesong. "A fine piece of work."

"They are amazing creatures, agile for their size. We often see

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS 955

them capering across the distance. . . . These others over here are
its cousins, or so we believe. Do you know, there are still mysteries
regarding these creatures? How they breed, how they develop, how
they order their body chemistry? All mysteries! But I won't bore
you with technical details. As you see, they come in every size, every
color. 'Intelligence'? Who knows? Some are clever, some"

A blur of motion, a cry of annoyance from Howard Treesong,
as down from one of the alcoves jumped a creature eight feet tall
with thin arms and legs, to snatch Treesong's hat and bound from
the room.

Otho Cleadhoe laughed a croak of indulgent amusement.
"Clever: yes. Mischievous: yes. Intelligent? Who knows? That is
Ditsy, who is full of tricks. I'm afraid your hat is gone. I'll have to
replace it."

Howard Treesong ran to the door and peered through.
"What's got into the beast? It put my hat in the fire!"

"It's a pity, for certain. I can't apologize enough. Ditsy, outside!
What can you mean, acting in such a way? He's destroyed your
fine hat. If your head becomes cold, please say so. Tuty can provide
a hood, or a shawl."

"No great matter."

"Ditsy must be punished, and I will see to it. The creature is
attracted to bright colors and makes a mischief with guests. Perhaps
I should have warned you."

"No matter. I have a dozen hats."

"None other so splendid, I'll warrant! Well, it's a pity. . . .
Through here now. We leave the Chamber of Astinches for the
Hall of Swamp-Walkers."

Howard Treesong showed only a cursory interest in the twenty
purple and black creatures with their odd cloaks of woven vegeta-
tion. "A very representative collection," said Otho Cleadhoe.
"They are found only along the Gorgon River. . . . Now to the Den
of Horrors, as I call my workshop. It never fails to impress."

Cleadhoe led the now bored and languid Howard Treesong
into a room illuminated by a high glass cupola. A central platform
supported a massive red-and-black creature with six legs and a fe-
rocious head.

"An awesome beast," said Treesong.

"Quite so. And an awesome projectthe largest of my expe-
rience. Yonder is my officea dismal sort of place, but the Cor-

THE DEMON PRINCES

956

poration won't spare me anything better. Your little book is there
and we'll pick it up presently."

"Why not now?" suggested Treesong. "Since it's close at

hand?"

"As you like. It's on my desk, if you care to fetch it. Now then,
I wonder! Do you think that here and there the hide tends to sag
across the haunches?"

Howard Treesong had gone to the side chamber. On the desk
lay a small red volume inscribed The Book of Dreams. Treesong
stepped forward; the door closed behind him. Out in the workshop
Otho Cleadhoe turned a valve, waited fifteen seconds, then turned
it off. Tuty Cleadhoe looked into the workshop. "The soup is ready.
Do you care to eat?"

"I'll be busy," said Cleadhoe. "I don't care to eat."

19

Navarth sat drinking wine with an aged acquaintance who
bemoaned the brevity of existence. "I have left to me at the
most ten years of life!"

"That is sheer pessimism," declared Navarth. "Think
optimistically, rather, of the ten hundred billion years of
death that await you!"

from Chronicles of Navarth,
by Carol Lewis

Navarth despised latter-day poetry, save only those
verses composed by himself. "These are faded times. Wis-
dom and innocence once were allied, and noble songs were
sung. I recall a couplet, by no means sublimequaint,
rathersuccinct, yet reverberating a thousand meanings:

A farting horse will never dre.
A farting man's the man to hire.
Where is the like today?

from Chronicles of Navarth,
by Carol Lewis

Gersen and Alice went quickly through the dark to the laboratory.
The night was warm, clear, and dark, illuminated by thousands of
lambent stars. From the swamp and the jungle came sounds: a far
strident howl and, uncomfortably near, a grunting bellow of rage.

Light shone from a window; Gersen and Alice watched Tuty
Cleadhoe moving around in the kitchen. She sliced bread, sausage,
and ramp; she stirred the contents of a kettle and set out imple-
ments at a table.

THE DKMON PRINCRS

958

Gersen muttered: "For two? Who won't be taking supper?"

"She seems quite placid," whispered Alice. "Perhaps we can just
knock on the door and ask if we're in time for supper."

"That's as good a plan as any." Gersen tried the door latch,
then knocked. In the kitchen Tuty stiffened, then darted to a side-
board, tucked a weapon into her pocket. She went to a communi-
cator, spoke, heard a few guttural words, then turned, marched to
the front door, and threw it open, her hand close to her gun.

"Hello, Mrs. Cleadhoe," said Gersen. "Are we too late for the

party?"

Tutv Cleadhoe stared grimly from one to the other. "Why did
you not stay where I left you? Are you impervious to reason? Can
you not understand when your presence is unwanted?"

"All this to the side, Mrs. Cleadhoe, you failed to honor our
agreement."

Tuty Cleadhoe showed a small quick smile. "Perhaps I did;

what then? You'd have done the same to me, had you fixed on it."
She looked over her shoulder. "Come in then. Wrangle with Mr.
Cleadhoe if you like."

She led them into the kitchen. Otho Cleadhoe stood at the sink,
carefully washing his hands. He swung around and surveyed Gersen
and Alice from the depths of his lavender eye sockets. "Visitors,
eh? Tonight I'm busy or I'd show you around."

"That's not why we're here. Where is Howard Treesong?"

Cleadhoe jerked his thumb. "Back yonder. He's safe. And now
I'll want my supper. Wi\[ you eat?"

"Sit down," said Tuty, with automatic if graceless hospitality.
"There's enough for all."

"Eat," said Cleadhoe in a cavernous bass voice. "We will talk
of Howard Hardoah. Did you know he killed our Nymphotis?"

Gersen and Alice seated themselves at the table. "He's killed
many people," said Gersen.

"W^hat would you have done with him? Killed him in return?"

"Yes."

Cleadhoe nodded ponderously. "Well, you shall have your
chance. I took him into a still room and turned gas on him. He'll
be awake in about six hours."

"So you haven't killed him?"

"Oh no." Cleadhoe's smile broke a pink gap through the beard.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

959

"Life is awareness and Howard Hardoah should become more
broadly aware. Perhaps in time he will repent his crimes."

"Possibly so," said Gersen. "Still, you have not kept good faith
with us."

Cleadhoe glanced at him uncomprehendingly, then resumed his
chewing. "Perhaps in our emotion we acted less than politely. But
postpone your annoyance. You shall take part in the ultimate judg-
ment."

Tuty cried out: "And don't forget, we guarded you from harm!
Howard brought two of his murderers with him. Ha, but they will
murder no more!"

Otho Cleadhoe smiled approvingly, as if Tuty had been de-
scribing the recipe for her soup. He said, "Howard is crafty! Imag-
ine this: he carried a weapon in his hat! I instructed Ditsy to snatch
away the hat and destroy it. As Mrs. Cleadhoe says, we have done
our share in the work."

Neither Gersen nor Alice had any comment to offer.

"In about six hours Howard will recover his faculties," said
Cleadhoe. "In the meantime, you may rest, or sleep, or examine
the collections, or you may sit comfortably, drink tea, or brandy,
and tell us of the harms you have suffered from Howard Hardoah."

Gersen looked at Alice. "WT-iat of you?"

"I can't sleep. Mr. and Mrs. Cleadhoe might like to hear of the
school reunion at Gladbetook."

"Aye, that we would indeed."

At midnight Otho Cleadhoe left the kitchen. Twenty minutes later
he returned. "Howard is returning to consciousness. If you like,
you can come."

The group filed through the laboratory, and along a corridor.
Cleadhoe halted beside a door. "Listen! He speaks."

Through a mesh came the sounds of a colloquy.

First came Howard Treesong's voice, clear and strong, but puz-
zled and fretful: "an impasse, like a wall; I can neither advance
nor retire, nor yet sidle away. . . . The sunrise is here. We are lost
in the jungle. Take care, let none stray aside. Paladins? Who hears
my voice?"

The responses came quickly; the voices almost seemed to over-
lap, as if several spoke together.

960

THE DKMON FRINGES

"Mewness stands by your side." This, a calm, clear voice, pre-
cise and without passion.

"Spangleway here, among the apes."
"Rhune Fader the Blue, and Hohenger and Black Jeha Rais: all

are here."

A thin, cool voice spoke. "Eia Panice is here."

"And Immir?"

"I am here till the end."

"Immir, you are steadfast, like all the rest. Now, to set a wise
strategy. Jeha Rais, you are grave."

The deep voice of Jeha Rais, the black paladin, sounded: "I am
grave and more than grave. After these mighty years did you not
recognize him?"

Immir: (troubled)

He called himself Cleadhoe of Dandelion Farm.

Jeha Rais:

He is the Dree.
A few seconds of silence.

Immir: (softly)

Then we are in desperate condition.
Rhune Fader:

We have known desperate times before. Remember the
course at Ilkhad? It was enough to daunt the Iron Giant,
yet we won through.
Spangleway:

I recall the ambush in Massilia Old Town. A dreadful

hour!
Immir:

Brothers, let us fix our thoughts on this moment only.

Jeha Rais:

The Dree is a brute of malevolence. To shift his force
we need counterforce. Can we offer wealth?
Immir:

I will open our treasury. He can own Sybaris, for all of

me.
Mewness:

It will not tempt the Dree.
Loris Hohenger:

Offer a doxen maidens, each more beautiful than the
last. Let them wear gowns of sheer diaphane and regard

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 961

him with gazes neither gay nor grave, as if they asked,
"Who Is this marvel? WTio is this demigod?"
Immir: (laughing sadly)

Good Hohenger, the concept moves you! I suspect that
you would throw your brother paladins into Lake Chill to
take part in such a parade.
Mewness:

Not the Dree.
Spangleway:

Wealth, beautywhat is left?
Rhune Fader:

If only we had Valkaris's Cup and eternal youth!
Immir: (in a mutter)

Complications, complexities. I sense a devilish plot.
Rhune Fader:

Silence all! Someone stands outside the door!

Cleadhoe spoke in a whisper: "He is half-awake; he talks as if
he were dreaming. .. ." He slid back the door. "Enter."

Half the room was bare and dim; the other half had been
planted and worked to simulate a jungle glade. Light slanted down
through a hundred sorts of foliage. On gnarled tendrils hung flow-
ers, bug-catchers, and spore pods. A stream passed through rocks,
forming a small pool, which drained through dark red reeds into
an unseen outlet. Beside the pool, in an armchair, sat Howard Alan
Treesong, nude except for a short skirt around his hips. His hands
rested on the arms of the chair; his legs, which were stark and glossy
white, rested on the turf. His head had been shaved bald. Across
the pool on a bank of turf reclined the marmel of Nymphotis. In
the bushes moved a half dozen small astinches, with faces formed
of mottled red-and-blue cartilage, crests like small black hats, and
glossy black pelts. The presence of Howard Treesong interested
them; they watched and listened with respectful attention.

The colloquy had ended; Howard's eyes glinted under half-
closed lids; his breathing seemed normal.

Cleadhoe spoke to Gersen and Alice. "This originally was a
display cage for the little astinches. They are called 'puppet man-
darins,' and are strange little creatures. Don't go too close; there is
a mesh of invisible pin-rays which will sting you. It seemed a fine
place to maintain Howard."

962 THE DEMON PRINCES

"You have marmelized his legs."

"Quite so. He is immobile, and he must gaze at Nymphotis
whom he murdered. This is our judgment upon him. Whatever
additional punishment you or Alice Wroke wish to apply, I shall
not object. It is your right."

Gersen asked, "How long will he live like this?"

Cleadhoe shook his head. "That is hard to predict. His natural
functions continue but he is immovably anchored. His hair, inci-
dentally, concealed a mesh of circuitry. There are no implants or
internal weapons; I have made sure of this!"

Treesong's eyes were open. He looked down at his legs, moved
his hands, felt the cool material which now composed the sheathing
of his upper thighs.

Cleadhoe spoke: "Howard Alan Treesong, we, from among all
your numberless victims, are now working retribution upon you."

Tuty cried out in a rich contralto: "There he is, our son Nym-
photis, and there sit you, Howard Hardoah, his murderer. Reflect
upon your evil deed."

Howard Treesong spoke in an even voice: "I have been well
and truly trapped. And who are these other two? Alice Wroke?
What brings you here among these zealots?"

"I am one of them. Do you not remember what you asked of
me, to save the life of my father? When you already had taken his
life?"

"My dear Alice, when one deals in high policy, one sometimes
overlooks nice details. Your father's death and your services were
both elements in a larger design. And you, sir? Your semblance is
disturbingly familiar."

"It should be. You have met me several times. Both at Voymont
and at Gladbetook I had the pleasure of shooting you, unfortunately
not to serious effect. You also know me as Henry Lucas, of Extant.
I am responsible for enticing you here through your Book of Dreams.
But let me take your memory even farther back. Do you recall the
raid on Mount Pleasant?"

"I remember the episode, yes. It was a remarkable exercise."

"I saw you for the first time on that occasion, and I have de-
voted my life to arranging this confrontation."

"Indeed? You are a fanatic."

"You have the faculty for creating fanatics."

THE BOOK OF DRE-IA4S

Howard Treesong made an easy gesture. "So now I am at your

mercy. How will you deal with me?"

Gersen laughed sourly. "What more could I do to you?"
"Wellthere is always torture. Or you might take pleasure in

killing me."

"I have destroyed you as a man. That is enough."
Howard Alan Treesong's head drooped. "My life has run its

course. I intended to rule the human universe. I would have been

first Emperor of the Gaean Worlds. I almost did so. Now I am

tired. I cannot move and I will not live long. . . . Leave me now. I

prefer to be alone."

Gersen turned and, taking Alice's arm, left the room. The

Cleadhoes followed. The door closed. Almost at once the colloquy

began:

Immir:

Now all is known. The Dree has done a terrible deed.
Oh my paladins, what now? What say you-, Jeha Rais?
Rais:

The time has come.
Immir:

How so? Green Mewness, why do you turn away?
MeTuness:

There are long roads yet to be traveled and many an
inn where I would take refuge.
Immir:

Why do you all look this way and that? Are we not all
brothers and paladins? Jeha Rais, make for us a great strat-
egy, to move these marmel legs.
Spangleway:

Immir, I bid you farewell.
Rais:

Farewell, Immir. The time has come.
Immir:

Loris Hohenger, are you deserting me too?
Hohnenger:

I must be away, to far places and new battles.
Im mir:

And sweet Blue Fader, what of you? .And you, F.ia Pan-
ice?

964 THE DEMON PRINCES

Panice:

I will do my brotherly best for you. Paladins, turn back!
A single deed remains to be done. Farewell, noble Immir!
And now . . .

In the corridor the four heard a thud, a splash. Cleadhoe ran
to the door, threw it aside. The great chair had toppled; Howard
Alan Treesong lay in a grotesque heap, face down in the pool.

Cleadhoe turned, his nostrils flaring, his eyes aglitter. He made
a wild gesticulation. "The chair was solidly fixed! He could not have
toppled it alone!"

Gersen turned away. "Whatever has happened, it is enough for
me." He took Alice's arm. "Let's go somewhere else."

20

In the FHtterwing and traveling space, Alice picked up The Book of
Dreams, then at once put it down again. "What will you do with
it?"

"I don't know . . . give it to Cosmopolis, I suppose."

"Wliy not just put it out into space?"

"I can't do that."

Alice put her hands on his shoulder. "And now, what of you?"

"What of me, how?"

"You're so quiet and subdued! You worry me. Are you well?"

"Quite well. Deflated, perhaps. I have been deserted by my
enemies. Treesong is dead. The affair is over. I am done."