Through Darkest Zymurgia!

I freely admit that this present volume is intended not for my colleagues in the field of mythogeography, but rather for the general reader. That is, it is what scholars disparagingly call a popular work. It is my earnest desire that it will be so in fact as well as in name, yet there are limits to the narrative artifices I am willing to use to that end. I am not above adopting a thrilling manner, or withholding a fact until its revelation is dramatically most effective. I will happily build suspense over our fate in various tight situations, though it must be obvious to the reader that the existence of this book is predicated upon our survival. And yet, I am subject to a constraint not felt by the authors of fictional works, a constraint forced upon me by the rigors of Academia, not the least of which is our good Dean Nuftison: I must tell the story as it happened. There will be those who doubt my sincerity in making this assertion. I beg their pardon, but I assert it again, and I offer this for proof: were I writing a work of fiction, would my heroes have escaped the wrath of a mob of angry natives by prating about bricks, of all things? I should say not. The brawny academics might have subdued the tribe's champions in single combat, perhaps, or slaughtered the entire crew with a penknife after blinding them with the contents of a bottle of ink, or even overawed them by a noble oration. But bricks, forsooth? It is not to be thought of. It makes no sense. It is unsatisfying.

And if it is unsatisfying to the reader, it was equally so to me. As Carbuncle, Hodgins, and I sauntered back to Tomar, surrounded by a crowd of elated Tomarens and lead by the Masters of Tomar, I was in a state of extreme puzzlement. A life in academia has bestowed upon me a certain understanding of how people behave, but little understanding of why. The Tomarens clearly had not wanted us to see the temple; yet now that we had, they were happy. Nabili clearly had known about the temple; yet he wasn't supposed to go there.

"This makes no sense," I said at last, venting my frustration upon Carbuncle. "It makes no sense at all."

"I care not," he replied, "just so long as I find out where those bricks were made." I congratulated him on a pragmatic, if unhelpful, attitude.

The crowd began to disperse when we reached the first houses, as individuals moved off to share the good news (which was? I still didn't know) with their friends and neighbors. At length we reached the Hall of the Masters, and entered the reception room. Simuny barked a few orders, and soon we were each provided with a stool and a glass of spirits. The masters had their own stools, of course; evidently they proposed to speak with us as equals. Nor did the surprises end there--as Nabili moved to seat himself on his stool, Simuny barked again, and Nabili jumped as though stung. He swung around, glaring at the old woman, who gazed dispassionately back. She spoke a few quiet words; Nabili's angry response nearly overwhelmed the quieter responses of Asha and Firenz. He glared at them, too, and then turned back to meet Simuny's implacable stare.

It was a long, tense moment. Then Nabili spit on the ground at Simuny's feet and, turning in place, strode towards the door. Hodgins was forced to jump out of his way, or he would have been knocked down. Simuny's voice caught Nabili at the door. As she spoke, she fingered the yellow embroidery that hemmed her garment. Nabili scowled at her, and was gone.

Smiling now, Simuny gestured us to our seats, facing the masters on their stools. Mukden took up his position against the wall, halfway in between us, ready to interpret. I took advantage of this short pause to ask the first question.

"If it would not be offensive to the Lady Asha, might a messenger be sent to our friend Thaddeus Philpott? I believe that our discussions would interest him greatly."

Through Mukden, Asha herself answered. "Why should Thed's presence offend me?"

I exchanged glances with Simuny before answering. "I was given to understand that you and he had quarreled yesterday."

"And so we did," Asha replied. "But today, everything has changed, as you shall see. I have no objection to Thed's presence." And suiting deed to word, she summoned and dispatched a servant to fetch Philpott. We sat quietly, sipping from our glasses, until the servant returned, Philpott, Fox, and Cadbury in tow. The servants hastily put out three more stools, and handed each a glass. Philpott looked troubled, Fox bored, and Cadbury, as always, amused. As our friends were seating themselves, I pressed my advantage.

"And now," I said, "perhaps you could explain the meaning of our exchange out at the crossroads, for I confess I do not understand it at all."

"All in good time, Aybahsmaht," replied Simuny. Although we required Mukden's services at the time, I will as usual dispense with them here. "Why did you come to our land?"

I raised my eyebrows. "As I have said before, we came to study your land, and for no other reason."

"So you have said. And why did you bring that beast with you?" Simuny was pointing at Bruno, who was sprawled on the floor by my side.

"He's my dog. He goes where I go. In my country they say that an Anglishman's best friend is his dog."

"Yes, things are different in your country, so you say. Great Basenis is unknown in your Angland?"

"Utterly, honored Simuny," I said.

"Just so. It is because of that beast that you are here now. When Mukden and his brothers first brought you to Tomar, we were angry. We did not wish you to be here. Hospitality forbade that we mistreat you in any way, and so our plan was to return you to the lands below immediately. Your beast forced us to reconsider."

She looked meaningfully at Firenz, who continued the explanation. He spoke in Serosan, which Mukden translated into the Zymurgian tongue.

"Nabili argued that giving commands to one of the Pups of Basenis showed deadly presumption, which would surely be repaid with holy wrath. He said we must dispose of you quickly, lest Basenis' anger fall on our Town." The old man paused, frowning. "Oh, he was a sly one. He cared more for the insult to Great Basenis than for any threat to Tomar." At this last statement, Philpott sat up, and began to pay proper attention.

"I argued," continued Firenz, "that only one annointed by Great Basenis could so command one of his pups. We know Basenis' wrath from of old; it is swift when he is slighted. Such a man must not be balked, lest Basenis' anger fall on us." His mouth quirked slightly to the left. "Nabili was not pleased by my argument." Idly, I reached down and scratched behind Bruno's ears.

"Asha," he continued, and here Asha leaned forward, "agreed with Nabili that commanding a dog was surely an affront to Great Basenis. If Great Basenis did not avenge the slight, then surely that meant that Great Basenis had no power over you. Perhaps, she said, Basenis ignored you because you came from a distant land. Or perhaps you were more powerful than Basenis. Nabili countered this argument. Surely no one is more powerful than Great Basenis, who has ruled over our land since time began? And surely the waters of Basenis have been dispersed to every country? Surely every land is subject to Great Basenis? But so far from strengthening his own case," laughed Firenz, "he thereby strengthened mine. And so therefore we let you stay, though we kept you under close watch."

"I see," I said. "You were unsure of our status, and therefore gave us the benefit of the doubt, as we say in Angland."

"Yes, my friends," said the old man. "That is it."

"But then, if you thought us possibly the annointed of Basenis, why did you seek to prevent us finding the temple?" No sooner had I finished my sentence than Philpott had whirled in his seat.

"Temple, Leon? Where--"

"Later, Thad, later," I whispered back.

"But--"

"Later!"

"Why, because of the neglect," said Firenz, a little surprised. "If you were messengers from Great Basenis, how could we let you see the state into which his temple has fallen? Surely you would call down Basenis' wrath upon us."

"You are no longer worried about this, I take it," said Carbuncle.

"No, my friends, we are not." He smiled broadly at us, as did Asha. Simuny merely grimaced. "You have seen the temple, and its state did not distress you. Surely you are not servants of Great Basenis!"

Philpott leaned forward, and asked, "But if you were worried about Basenis' wrath, why did you neglect the temple?"

Firenz looked sheepish, as who would not? "We have quarreled with Great Basenis, Thed. So far we have avoided his wrath. But Basenis is no longer worshipped in Tomar, nor in any town or village in the land, saving only the holy city, Basenis Basor. We worship him not, and yet we must serve him, lest he send his wrath upon us. It is forbidden to go to the temple, or to bring offerings to Basenis." I thought then of the pile of flowers and green leaves between the statue's paws. So young Nabili was something of a renegade!

"In many lands," said Philpott, "service to one's god lies mainly in the bringing of offerings. How do you serve him, if you do not worship him?"

"Why, we disperse his waters. For this we are exempt from the tithe that all other towns must pay to the Keepers in Basenis Basor."

"And what form does the tithe take?"

"Grain and cured meats for the Keepers, and clippings for Basenis in his temple."

"Clippings?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, chaff, and leaves and twigs, and other plant matter."

"What ever for?"

"To feed Great Basenis in his temple."

"Great Basenis eats leaves?" I exclaimed. Carbuncle was beginning to nod very slowly. "Leaves? Surely there are trees enough near Basenis Basor to give Basenis all of the leaves he wants. You pay your tithe in leaves?"

"Not we," said Firenz, "but the other towns, yes. Great Basenis requires it. His hunger is great, and Basenis Basor lies in a barren plain."

One should never ask a question if one does not wish to know the answer. There are, indeed, many things I would be happier not knowing about; the making of sausage, for instance, and the workings of His Majesty's government. Yet there are some questions that will not lie still, and that must be asked. It is like having a rash: scratching is painful, and yet one cannot help scratching.

"And the waters of Basenis, that you disperse instead of paying the tithe--where do they come from?" Firenz looked at me strangely; clearly the answer was obvious. I had feared so.

"From Basenis Basor, my friend. Where else? From Great Basenis in his temple in Basenis Basor. They are his waters."

I thought it best to change the subject.

"How did Basenis lose your devotion?"

"Not in my time, nor in my grandfather's time, but in his grandfather's time, the tithe was larger, and the quantity of waters to disperse greater. It was a great weight on our people, the need to feed Basenis and disperse his waters properly. There was a drought in those days, and while it lasted nothing grew. The trees were without leaf, and the fields without grain. Our cattle grew thin, and we grew thin too. There was little to send to Basenis Basor. The Keepers and Great Basenis went hungry." At this, Firenz paused, and he and the others bowed their heads, not in reverence, I thought, but in remembrance. "Great Basenis came forth from his temple in search of food, and found none, for the land was bare. Then was his wrath visited upon the folk of the towns, who had worshipped him and served him since time began. Basenis roamed the land, devouring all in his path. Entire villages were consumed, from the thatch on the roofs to the foundations; many of our people died. At last he was satisfied, and returned to his temple." Firenz raised his head, and straightened, and looked me in the eye. "Do you wonder that Basenis lost our devotion? Is not the land in his keeping? We served him, and he gave us death and destruction. When the rain returned, we resumed the tithe, but never as much as the Keepers demanded. Each generation has decreased it, and each generation has had less water to disperse. Would that we could end the tithe altogether!"

Carbuncle had been fidgeting beside me for some minutes, and could contain himself no longer.

"The bricks, Firenz! The temple we saw was made of bricks. Did they come from Basenis Basor as well?"

"Yes. As the waters are his waters, so the bricks are his bricks. The city of Basenis Basor is built of his bricks, and each year it grows larger. The temple here was built in ages past when the bricks were more abundant; they have decreased with the tithe as well. None leave Basenis Basor now."

"It is an interesting tale you tell, Firenz, but it happened a long time ago. I find it hard to believe," I said. "Are you sure it is true?"

"When I was boy, there was a town named Tyridi. Its people served the Keepers, travelling to Basenis Basor each morning and returning home each evening. As each generation had done, the towns decreased the tithe. It was too much, and Basenis came forth." There was a hush upon the room, and Firenz smiled bleakly. "Tyridi was destroyed. My father was there, seeing to the waters. He perished."

All of this time, Cadbury had been providing a running translation, in English, to Philpott, Fox, and Hodgins. Now there came a question from an unlikely source.

"You had told us nothing of this until today," said Frederick Fox. "Why are you telling us now? What do you want of us?" Cadbury translated his words, and I seconded them in Serosan.

"Yes, what do you want of us?"

"Today," said Firenz, "we learned that you are not servants of Basenis. We can decrease the tithe no further without arousing Basenis' wrath upon us. You, Aybahsmaht, are he whom the dog obeys. Perhaps, with your help, we can free ourselves from our slavery. This is the hope that Asha shared with us on your arrival."