Unpublished translation by the author

"Still free as a bird then, I see" was all I got from him.

"What are you blabbering on about?" But he was gone, sunk back into the crowd. Having loitered around a bit longer listening to the speeches broadcast over the megaphones strung along the towers, having no whisky left to keep me warm, I pulled up my collar around my ears and set off. I thought perhaps to call on you at Tyn y Coed, but how would I explain anything to you Caress, now that words have become weapons between us? Crossing the street, down below in the subway, I saw Scarlet Nightshade stooped down and she raised her head full of black tears and a bruise spreading across her cheek. She was picking up some necklace beads off the concrete.

"What happened, Scarlet?" I said a bit coldly. I had struck up a chat with her earlier over on the Square. I don't have very much to say to her, she's always on the verge of a crisis."

" Just leave me alone, " she spat and her two eyes like coal burning into me. Her eye make-up was in dark streaks down her cheeks. You would not want to cross her in her temper, I tried to avoid annoying her.

"Just go," she said coldly. "Go to your little Miss Caress now, and see if she'll take you back."

I just left her there on the floor. I went towards home. I'm not going to tangle with such a spiteful girl.

Outside All Night Café I noticed Wil Pickled Herring sitting on the pavement with his head in his hands. I couldn't make out a word he said to me, I didn't really understand either the forefinger which he slowly drew across his throat, smiling his ugly black pegged smile. All I did was step past him and went in to get something to eat.

"Give me something to warm me up, Betsan," I said to Betsan Ten Minutes behind the counter. "How's the new job going?"

"You can have hot stew and mind your own business"

I hear that Betsan Ten Minutes is going steady with Wynne Screen Viper nowadays so that's why she's working nights behind the counter at All Night Café and not upstairs on her back anymore. We were talking about old times when the door opened and there was Wil Pickled Herring again hanging like a climber on Snowdon half way up the door. He lost his grip and fell all over the tables.

"Out!" shouted Betsan Ten Minutes getting hold of a mop handle and beating him on his back and shoulders. Wil Pickled Herring didn't react. She flung the mop at him and left him in a heap where he was. "Surprised to see you're still around" she said after stepping back to the counter.

"I've had just about enough of it" I said. "What is all this looking and poiting, what's going on?"

"They were here looking for you earlier"

"Who were?"

"For you, Gwern. I said nothing."

"What is there to say? Why would they look for me?" Betsan Ten Minutes likes to provoke people and to tell lies, so I didn't believe her. Just then Wil Pickled Herring pulled himself up at my table and began to dribble so I gave Betsan two units for the food and left. I suppose I was expecting something. Anyway, I went straight home.

A gnawing feeling came into my stomach. I picked up the note I had found on the mat. The eye of the answer machine was flashing. I suppose I hadn't paid much attention to the changes reported on the news, nothing had altered yet in my town and anyway I had been away working so I didn't at that time understand as well as I should have perhaps.

"Fuck," I though to myself. "So it's true. Fischermädchen does want to see me. At this rate I'll be in Entwürdigung Castle before you can say Abergwyngregyn and Rausman himself will be flaying the hide off me."

I forgot all about the answer machine when I read that note and just drummed out her number like a woodpecker on a trunk.

Fischermädchen was not happy to be waked in the middle of the night until she realised it was me and then I thought I detected a thaw in her attitude.

"Oh! It's you, Gwern! At last! Where have you been?" She said pretending to be ever so charming. "I've been waiting for your call."

"I know" I said, "I'll be round first thing in the morning. Sorry about the work on the network...You know I did not recommend that software....Are they really that annoyed?"

"Tomorrow morning eight o'clock. Don't worry about anything, Gwern. Come at eight, everything is fine."

I had heard Dai Takes Eggs talking about some Saffron Tinker or other saying that he was the one to lead you across to the sunless Summer in the high passes. Saving fugitives from the Uncons. "He'll do," I thought to myself as I thought about how I might reach the High Country." But then I thought, "Yes, but he's only in the new legends and doesn't really exist at all so what's the fucking point!"

Anyway, even if I was gullible enough to believe in the Saffron Tinker, as do the children and the old people, I didn't even have his network code and anyway I could not have got him on line without the cat coming into the lap of the Seen and Heard and they would be straight after me. "If you can't be strong be cunning" I mused, very briefly, realising I had no options left.

I just chucked whatever came to hand into a bag. I was dying to phone you but I knew they would know. I flipped open the screen and deleted the log of restriced access files. Some files I even opened the lid to check that they were really gone. A quick message for Fischermädchen for forward delivery and out I go without a backward glance. Wil Califfornia takes me to the station. I pay cash and don't wait for change. I jump the fence to catch the train.

"Ticket, son" says the guard.

"Haven't got one." I'm still out of breath.

"Penalty charge then, " says the guard.

"Swipe that, grandad," says I thrusting my unit card at him. A little yellow paper ticket squiggled out of a box on his tummy and the ink still looked wet on the paper.

I didn't get off where I was supposed to but carried on into the night, past places I had never seen or heard of before. The night was like a long tunnel and the carriage lights lit up nothing but dozing passengers. I held my face to the glass and watched raindrops running races down the pane outside. At Gwastadaros siding I slipped out into a blue dawn. It has a big name for a small place, the sign is huge but there are only a few unplastered concrete huts on the station. Even the searchlights keep going on and off just like our ones. The people here are very much like we are back home. The first thing anyone said to me was "Where are you from and where do you want to go?"

He was a taxi driver actually. Perhaps he asked this to all his fares. Anyway he only took me a short distance.

"High Country?" he said. "Not a chance in hell. You can get out here."

"Rat," I said and gave him two fingers as he drove away. I thought for a minute he was going to come back. Then I started walking concrete roads, unsure which direction was best. It wasn't that cold but there was no sun visible and there was drizzle in the breeze. The main road rose from the station village up towards the hills, the east I hoped. Behind the hills a rampart of dark rock rose to meet the clouds. The concrete road was pitted and crazed and every mile got worse until it was like a net on a stony stream. An hour or so later, and not making progress, I saw on the hill's edge above the road a little cottage like a holiday cottage but with a chimney full of smoke coming from its chimney. I went towards it to ask was I lost. There seemed to be a way to go from the start but the longer I climbed the farther away the damn thing would go. I was drenched in sweat when I finally made it to the farmyard having wasted the best part of a day, and now night was falling on the second evening. Three ferocious dogs came at me as my foot touched the farmyard. Barking and baring their dripping fangs. "Down, bad dogs," I said. A door opened and a lanky youth with hollow cheeks came out, a sack and a cloak and thonged sandals on his feet. He started to pelt the dogs with stones he drew from his sack while looking at me and shouting "Welcome to Sunless Summer!"

"Is that what it is?" I said to him. "Isn't Saffron Tinker is in that legend?"

"Asgwrn Ffriddoedd does not have inexhaustible patience," said the cloaked youth. "Come with me."

I followed him into the house, a dark smoke filled place where everything was old fashioned except for the network screen flickering in the corner. Asgwrn Ffriddoedd is a big man. He has a mop of curly red hair on his head and a big red beard on his chin. I was given a steaming bowl of bread and milk, some baked potatoes with butter and some wine. I wolfed it all down anyway.

"So you got on line eventually," he said, "What kept you?"

"Oh, yes, sure!" I blurted out untruthfully. "Do you know the Saffron Tinker?"

"What did you do, Gwern, to have them after you?"

"I did nothing to them. The Heartless Bodies don't want me."

"Come now, " said the big man. "Lets all cooperate. Your whole case has been hopping all over the web."

"Look" I said, "It's Scarlet Nightshade who started this. She's turned everyone against me and it would be nothing for her to carry any old lies about me to Fischermädchen as well. Look, it was Wil Pickled Herring who broke her necklace, not me!"

"And what is this about you and the network crash in the Exile States? I don't wonder the Heartless Bodies are after you for wrecking their systems, and by mistake as well, for God's sake, due to incompetence not patriotism at all! You would have more respect had you done it on purpose, foolish one."

"It was on purpose, actually, I wanted to spoil their plans, it wasn't an accident!"

"Bullshit! I don't believe a word."

"You can believe what you like, Asgwrn Ffriddoedd," I said sulkily.

"That's better" He is such a pompous man. "So you were thinking of escaping towards the High Country?" he added after chewing his beard for a bit.

"If you say so, Asgwrn Ffriddoedd, " I said.

"I've seen plenty of the likes of you before."

"Is the High Country far?"

"'Is it far, indeed?" Asgwrn Ffriddoedd beckoned to the gaunt lad. "Tell him how far it is to the High Country, Pilgrim." said the big man.

"It's nearer than yesterday and farther than tomorrow" said the sombre youth.

"Well you're all leaving tomorrow anyway," said Asgwrn Ffriddoedd.

"Is Saffron Tinker coming as well, sir?" I inquired innocently.

"You know him, then, do you?"

"So he does exist? Everyone has heard the legends about him leading to the High Country the ones who flee from the grip of the Heartless Bodies."

Asgwrn Ffriddoedd laughed when I said that and started to slap his knee with his palm. "Yes, very good" he said simmering with mirth. "Well, he is here, oh yes, he's here. He's been waiting a long while for you, you three legged snail."

"Sorry about that," I muttered.

"Tomorrow morning then, Saffron Tinker, Pilgrim and you have got to set off up towards the High Country. Use this secure device for inputing updates. These are my orders. Sleep then go.

"Thank you, sir" I said taking the processor not really knowing what he meant or whether I had any reason to thank him or not.

Sunless Summer is a big country, vast I would say. Some say that it has no borders but I don't believe it. A country must stop somewhere or it can't be whole, surely that's true. Well, anyway, I never saw such wastelands as the places I passed on the way through. Rolling bare hills to the horizon and not a furze bush growing. No walls. No paths. A country like the waves of the sea with no surf breaking. Here and there I saw grass growing and around these clumps there were sheep struggling to graze. But though there is no sun nor pasture, the people here greet you with a smile. I don't know where they live or what they do. We saw no houses. I doubt they get many visitors, they seem so hospitable. "Welcome to Sunless Summer!" they shout as hordes of ragged children come from nowhere around your legs and smile into your face and laugh at your hair and clothes and skin. Saffron Tinker just frowned all the time like a scarecrow at everyone, his yellow eyes flashing disapproval in all directions. You would have thought his wild appearance would be enough to frighten them, what with his stooped gait, long arms and spindly short legs leaping here and there. Few doubt that he is a cross and angry man. He was, in contrast, actually quite kind to me during the journey. Occasionally he would allow me up behind him on his mule for a few minutes. Pilgrim had to walk the whole way, poor fellow.

"I prefer to walk" he would say whenever I got a ride. "My destiny is to walk the rough paths always and that is as it should be and ever shall be, and should there be no path untrodden in this transient world I would still walk on in a circle like a mouse on a wheel."

I didn't know him at that time, so I tended not to query many of the crazy things he said, thinking he was ever so wise. "But why do you want to carry a sack full of old stones around with you?" was one question I asked. "Aren't there plenty around us in the mountains?"

"Listen, lad," he said in a boastful voice, squaring his owl like shoulders, "some people prefer to carry their weight on their backs rather than in their hearts. Anyway, these are special stones."

"If the two of you would like to stop quarreling" said Saffron Tinker, "you can pitch camp on the ridge over there. It gets dark early on the borders of the Wild Country."

That was the first I knew that we had arrived in the Wild Country. I'm not denying that it was cold, by Jesus it was cold, it hit you like a fist in the mornings and like a blade cutting through the mist at night. It would be nothing for your eyelids to freeze shut, and I almost failed to recognize Dai Takes Eggs as he swaggered into camp towards me in his big coat.

"Hey, Gwern!" he called with a wink like the wink that he gave me on on our town square. "So you've arrived."

"Takes Eggs!" I said, "What brought you here?"

"Keep your questions" he said. "Sealed lips are sweet. I thought you were done fore back in town."

I told him about the hassle I had had and all he did was start laughing.

"Listen, Gwern" he said "both you know and I know that you weren't working with Lower Level team, so keep your fibs. It was an accident and that's all. You made a right mess of their systems, I'll admit, you and your incompetence. I bet Fischermädchen's face was a picture when you escaped her grasp. You lucky basadard!" He laughed heartily and slapped me on the back.

"You can keep your luck, Takes Eggs, thank you very much," I snapped. I couldn't see much to laugh about.

"Just you work on your story, my son"

"Why do they call it the Wild Country, Takes Eggs?" I asked to change the subject having said too much already probably.

"I really don't know" said he. "Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the Wire Bandits rear all their Shining Beasts here."

"Are the Shining Beasts dangerous?"

"Oh, no, not at all. They would only tear you to shreds. They would happily eat up six better men than you before breakfast, boy. And mind you don't look into their electric eyes. But remember, should you raise so much as a finger against them you will have their leader Rock Jaw himself to answer to."

Dai Takes Eggs went on his way soon after. Going down to Sunless Summer, he said, with an important message for Asgwrn Ffriddoedd. That's what he said. But knowing Dai Takes Eggs he was probably just showing off. However fair play to him, he did lend me his restplate so that I might continue in safety. It was a good one too, a shiny transparent plate moulded to the body and fitting like a glove. I gave him Saffron Tinker's mule in return because Dai Takes Eggs said that it would be no use to us in the Wild Country; too much slippery on the rocks for a mule and so forth. Saffron Tinker was not at all pleased when he found out what I had done. He started calling me all sorts of unrepeatable names and threatened to throw me from the precipice and beat me with his stick but he was too frail so I broke his stick and said I would carry the tent and he quieted down. But of course Saffron Tinker is a poor walker, his spindly legs have no strength, and we stayed where we were for a while. I thought it was a good bargain because I would never have managed to sleep those nights in the Wild Country without the restplate to protect me, what with the Shining Beasts howling and braying and keeping up a commotion all night around the camp and eyeing our tent with their piercing eyes as they churned up clumps of the the mountain with their hooves until the night would become a wild storm of lightning all about us. Pilgrim had no restplate and simply lay there shivering in his cloak through the small hours without a wink of sleep, groaning and saying his prayers under his breath. Probably all part of his penance. Pilgrim is a strange fellow.

Saffron Tinker would get into a blind fury with the shining beasts and would start shouting and screaming at them for all he was worth. "Get out of here you blasted devils! There's nothing for you here! Clear off!" And he would reach for his combat claw and threaten them with it while shielding his eyes from their piercing gaze and they would retreat behind the escarpment until Saffron Tinker had put away his combat claw and gone back to lie in the tent in the middle of the night with everything was peaceful in camp again. But little by little the shining beasts would creep back stealthily around the camp again and strike up their unearthly crying and wailing while flashing their piercing eyes and churning up the rocks with their hooves until the lightning storm would fill the night and Saffron Tinker would quite loose control of himself, swearing and blinding like a devil and dancing and bounding like a man gone mad.

This is how it was for nights on end. One night in the belly of the night Saffron Tinker knotted a cord onto his combat claw and sped it towards the shining beasts until the claw caught in the flank of one of them and then Saffron Tinker started to draw in the cord and the shining beast started screaming and the claw took the hide clean off the side of the moaning beasts from its shoulder to its hind quarters and all the shining beasts came howling and roaring and gnashing their teeth and flashing their eyes to the side of the wounded one which lay crying quietly on its side in its own blood on the rock until the whole herd turned tail and charged away to the escarpment and we were not bothered by them again that night.

The next morning when I looked out from under the side of the tent who should I see encircling the camp but the Wire Bandits mounted on shining beasts in a line around us, stony faced and with arms folded on their chests and their eyes staring mute at the wounded one lying in its own blood stretching to lick dew of the stones. Its little eyes were dull and rolling like marbles in its head. I shook Saffron Tinker to wake him, but that didn't work - I suppose he was too tired to wake after being kept awake every night by the shining beasts.

"Saffron Tinker! Saffron Tinker! The Wire Bandits are here!" I cried giving him a nasty pinch on his purple nose.

"Leave me alone you weevil" said Saffron Tinker. The next minute he opened one round yellow eye and demanded, "What did you say?"

"The Wire Bandits are here and they want you."

"Oh heavens, what will we do now?" cried Pilgrim.

"Be quiet the two of you," said Saffron Tinker. "I'll go out to them then you useless cowards. Rock Jaw and I are thick as thieves, I don't envisage any difficulties, he eats out of my hand for God's sake, yes indeed, he is not as unreasonable as some would make out, not at all." He can be very brave, poor old Saffron Tinker.

With that Saffron Tinker wrapped his cloak about him and stepped out onto camp ledge. I say camp but it was really hardly more that a tent and an open hearth on a level patch under the mountain's eves.

I was watching from under the tent and Pilgrim was watching with me and both of us quaking and the tent quivering with us as we saw poor Saffron Tinker standing before the Wire Bandits and the bandits all pressing down on him and some lo them eaping from their shining beasts and pinioning him between. Rock Jaw raised his palm.

"Saffron Tinker!" said Rock Jaw, "You have injured my shining beast through black treachery and his value I claim. Oh rude serf, you will pay his value and the price of this insult to me!"

They bound old Saffron Tinker and flung him crossways on his stomach across the back of one of the shining beasts and then tied his wrists and ankles together to form a girth under the belly of the beast so that he could not even raise a hand to wave at us as they were leading him away.

As if in afterthought Rock Jaw stopped and turned his beast towards us in our tent. "And as for you two cowards hiding in there, your job is to mend my beast until he is well again and then you'll get Saffron Tinker back again. In the meantime I'll use him as my best beast.!" And with that the warband galloped away from us, their streaming pennants glistening behind them and their wild long hair swimming in the wind and we were not troubled by the shining beasts ever again.

"Bwwwww!" said the wounded one outside and we went out to see what could be done to try to mend him. His flank was an open wound and in spite of the cold there were already maggots squirming in his flesh. We washed out the wound with melted snow. The beast snorted and dribbled but was too weak to struggle. Then Pilgrim reached in his sack for the 'special stones' as he calls them and carefully laid them on the beast's flank over the wound. We lit a fire to keep the creature warm and we boiled water to make porridge with which to spoon feed him. Our beast slept the whole night through without groaning or anything and the following morning he managed to raise his head from the moss we had packed under his head as a pillow. His eyes had stopped rolling like marbles around in his head and fixed us with a steady gaze.

"Gwern Medicine Man you should be called," said Pilgrim, "not Gwern Excuses." I told him that I though there might be some good in his special stones after all.

We spent three weeks curing the beast and when he died we wanted to cry. We were almost sick because we had become best friends with the poor creature and he had come to lick our faces and to blow warm air up our nostrils.

"How shall we bury him with the ground hard like iron?" Really, Pilgrim is enough to infuriate anyone.

"Put the rest of your "special stones" over him for all they're worth now," I said crossly, blaming him and his old stones for everything. But it was stones from the mountainside that we collected in the end because Pilgrim refused to share any more of his silly stones.

We left the tent where it was and struck out for the gap above where Saffron Tinker used to point when we asked him before. The pass to the High Country was in the clouds that spiralled around us like cold smoke. At night Pilgrim had to resign himself to sharing my restplate or he would certainly have frozen as we had no tent and his cloak was worn threadbare and as we were both on our last legs and our provisions were gone and the daytime kept shrinking smaller and smaller every day and the chill of the mountain kept closing around us tighter every night. We must have left the Wild Country by now and reached the middle of Bleak Winter because there was nothing but mist below us with outcrops of rock coming through it like islands. The paths were all shale and ice and we were quite unsure which of them was the right one to take. There is no colour in Bleak Winter, no trees, no birds. A stump of a day and then a cloak of night from mid-afternoon to mid morning. On the last day Pilgrim put his sack down and sat like a wreath on a stone.

"My ears are bleeding and I've lost all feeling in my toes," he said. "I can't go any further."

" Well the pass won't come to us" I said accusingly.

"I am to blame for this" said he.

"Yes," I said, "because it's you who's supposed to know this wasteland and it's you who's supposed to get us over, you spineless useless weakling."

A shower of hail rose was the next plague to strike us, rising like a swarm of angry bees over the clifftop below and pelting us until we cringed. We managed to crawl to a crack in the rock to shelter but the restplate was of no use in a place like that. Pilgrim's stones didn't seem to be doing us much good either so I got hold of his sack and flung it over the edge of the precipice.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Pilgrim, his head handing like a duck in a Gameshop.

"Oh, shut it," I said as my eyes closed and my mind circled like a kestrel above a deep ravine.

It was a fine sunny ravine. I was falling and falling until my stomach was doing head over heels inside of me and the earth was rising like a ball towards me and all the time I was trying to raise back my head to arrest my fall before I hit the ground. But I landed like a feather after all, close to Gelli Aur at the orchard of Tyn Coed where the blossom boiled in the apple trees and where the green bracken was swept with warm insects in the sunlight and the cold smell of moss awoke in me a boy catching tiddlers in a jam jar by the stream as I went towards Tyn y Coed and you opened the door and smiled and said nothing so I knew I was only dreaming after all. "It's so cold in Bleak Winter, Caress," I said. "I know " you said, "I still love you and won't listen to Scarlet Nightshade's stories." I could smell flowers and sun as I watched your smile. "Why can't the dream last forever" I said. "Nothing lasts forever, Gwern," you said, your voice so warm and gentle. "Will you be nice to me forever, Caress?" I said. "They're looking for you" you said and then you turned on hearing the baby cry. The shadows were opening like roses and the river was a murmer far away, the slate flags of the footpath were sinking beneath my feet as you smiled gently and slowly raised your hand to wave goodbye and I couldn't move or raise my hand or make any gesture as darkness surrounded me.

 

1.  

 

2. Testimony Two ''''' Follows...

It was on the backs of mules that the Swarthy Cavedwarves carried us up to the High Country once they had revived us by rubbing us with some leaves similar to dock leaves but that stung like nettles. So Dai Takes Eggs's story about the mules being unable to negotiate the high passes was a pack of lies. "We are the masters of Bleak Winter," was the Swarthy Cavedwarves constant refrain. "We'll get a good price for a couple of ruffians like you from Grind Underfoot." They secured our feet under the bellies of the mules and tied our arms about their necks, to prevent us falling into the void below they said, and away we went through the day and then through the night with flaming torches lighting up our way. I have no recollection of how many days we spent on the journey to the High Country.

At daybreak one morning I knew we were close as I could see some black birds similar to ravens circling above and cawing. We hadn't seen birds of any description since leaving Sunless Summer and it made me think we must be close to High Country. I was correct for once. As the mules struggled forward over the boulders and in spite of having my face in the rough mane of my mule, I saw a gap opening in the mountain wall and smelt bracken burning on the breeze. On we went at a leisurely pace now, along an interminable valley floor. The path was now level for the first time. I remember that it had already started to become warmer even at the mouth of the pass, and it got progressively warmer as we went on. There was a strange type of bracken growing from among the boulders that swayed like seaweed in the tide. Above, on the valley slopes, we saw husbandmen working their ploughs behind cart horses, turning black glistening furrows of peat across the high grasslands, now stopping to mop the beads of sweat from their brows as they saw us pass. The change in the temperature was too much for me; I suppose I must have fainted, that was the last thing I remember until I awoke in a dark chamber with sunlight playing through the chinks in the drystone walls. I was so stiff I couldn't move so I just lay there. Pilgrim was snoring contentedly quite close beside me on the dirt floor. I managed to roll over to him and blew hard into his ear to wake him up.

"No...no..." he mumbled in his sleep, "I can explain about the stones. Just one chance..."

"Stop your jabbering and stir yourself" I said. "Tell me where we are."

"Is it you?" he said. "I thought you'd gone over the precipice... O, no, now I remember... It was you who threw away my stones!"

"Shut up about your stupid stones and tell me where we are!"

"How long did I sleep?" There was anxiety in his voice and his lips were quivering. I felt almost pity for him.

"Two weeks" I said cruelly to provoke him although I had no idea. "And you've only been blabbering in your sleep the whole time too!"

"Oh, no! What did I say?"

"A great deal too much, sonny boy. Is it true about Saffron Tinker?"

"I don't know what you're on about," he spouted sulkily. "Where are we?"

"For pity's sake, Pilgrim," I declared, beginning to lose patience, "You are supposed to tell me where we are. Only you know, Pilgrim, because only you have been here before if it is here that we are. We are in High Country, aren't we? Come on, tell me!"

At that the door creaked open and a man's shadow filled the open doorway. He must have seen that we were awake because he slammed the door shut again and we could hear his footsteps tinkling like a piano as he sped away over the loose slates.

In a while the door was opened again and six men's heads against the light peered into the cell without us being able to make out their faces.

"Out," said one.

"I can't move" said poor Pilgrim and a lance from somewhere came and stabbed him in the behind. He got to his feet quite quickly then, and I followed.

"This way," said the man.

Outside, the dazzling sunlight sparkled in our eyes like thousands of sovereigns gleaming from the leaves of the trees and bouncing from the streams and pools. Once I could see properly again all I could do was laugh at Pilgrim with his face as black as a collier, and he laughed at me and said I was the same. We asked if we might have a wash.

"No," said the guard

"You're welcome to water from my spring," said a pretty little maiden who appeared from somewhere and stood in our path.

"Hurry up then," snarled the guard.

We made the most of it and washed ourselves with the little maiden pouring spring water for us from her pitcher. With the cold cold water on our faces and the warm sun on our backs we soon felt a lot better.

"Aren't they friendly round here," said Pilgrim once we had set off again.

There were all kinds of birds flying free between the trees, species I had never seen the likes of before on any nature programme back home in Lowland. Big clumsy birds with long golden tail feathers and black wings and red crests on their heads, continuously calling and whistling to one another like referees and flocking to the bushes around us to get a good look at us and to see where we were going. The path slabs were worn smooth and being wet flowed before us like quicksilver between the two high walls down towards a village of grey stone walls and slate roofs with smoke rising like ribbons from the chimneys. The streets were paved with cobbles worn down to a smooth glow, nice and gentle under foot. There was one house larger than the rest with the High Country White on White flying proud from its pole on the rooftop, and it was towards this house that we appeared to be making our way. Having arrived we found it was not a house but a hall, and no holes in the walls here but fine plaster and murals all around the inside, battle scenes, fighting, and the Heartless Bodies being beaten by the warriors of High Country and the Wire Bandits on their Shining Beasts fleeing before their forces and the men of High Country raising their standard, the white star in a bright sky, over the battlefield. I'm sure they must have been glad to have beaten the enemy rather than to have been killed. I spent ages studying that High Country flag on the wall trying to make out the white star but for the life of me I couldn't find it, all I could see was the plain white square.

"Grind Underfoot : Prince of High Country," barked a cross little man from his raised throne. "I want answers and I want the truth. Do you understand?"

"What was the question, sir?" asked Pilgrim, receiving another spear stab from one of the soldiers for his trouble.

"We will be pleased to co-operate in any way we can, Grind Underfoot, sir," I said. Grind Underfoot reached for a roll of parchment and unrolled in with a flourish.

"Where is Saffron Tinker?" was his first question.

"With the Bandits, sir," said Pilgrim.

"Of his own accord or against his will?"

"They did not offer him a choice, sir, if that is what you mean," I replied. "But there it is, it him that killed the beast and..."

"Look you here!" growled Grind Underfoot starting to get angry. "I don't give a brass farthing who killed the beast, Saffron Tinker is supposed to accompany you to the Lower Level! I can't send you without him!"

"It doesn't appear that we'll be going,then," I said.

He lost his temper at that and started to shout. "You're damn lucky that Saffron Tinker's name is on the same paper as yours, boy! Otherwise I would derive the greatest of pleasure in having Giant Hands tear you limb from limb with his ten fine fingers!"

"Sorry, sir," said I trying to appease him. "Of course we'll be going to the Lower Level... When will Saffron Tinker be arriving?"

"Idiot! Moron! Fool! You are the ones who lost Saffron Tinker and you are the ones who are going to find him. There is nothing further to discuss! And just thinking about what will happen to you should you be so insolent as to fail makes even my bitter old blood curdle in my veins. Take them away!"

"I think he want's us to rescue Saffron Tinker" I said to Pilgrim once we were alone, this time in a hut of quality by the side of the hall.

"Is that what he wants?" said he, dense as usual. "Do you think we can manage it?"

"No." I was telling him the truth for once.

"What if we refuse?"

"Don't even think about it. We've got three days to prepare."

Yes indeed, everything was fine for us while we were in Stone Town. That was the name of the village as we were told. There are other villages in Red County but this is the best one according to those who live here. We were also told that there are three other counties in Central Province and that it is one of the five provinces of High Country. We stayed put in Stone Town otherwise I'm sure we would have got lost.

It was an agreeable enough place other than that the electricity supply had long since been disconnected and stolen by the Wire Bandits to be sold to the Exile States. Since there was no electricity the Network screens were of no use either and the news had to be carried by old fashioned messengers, like postmen in the olden days. They were able to get from High Country to Sunless Summer in less than a week, so it was said, not like us pitching camp on the edge of Wild Country and getting lost in Bleak Winter.

We were allowed free rein to go as we pleased and all we had to do was say that we were acting on behalf of Grind Underfoot and all doors would open before us and everyone would compete to offer their best to us.

Pilgrim was delighted, of course, and went off to the storehouse to choose all manner of trinkets, and to scour the streams for colourful stones. I left him to it and went for a walk above the village.

I was quite content looking at the birds looking at me, and whistling at them and they screeching crossly back at me for imitating them.

"Don't frighten the Flame Birds," said the little maiden having appeared from nowhere with her pitcher of spring water on her head.

"Gosh," I said, startled, "you're lightfooted enough anyway."

"You're from Lowland aren't you?" she asked. "Aren't you Gwern?"

"I am, yes," I said. "How did you know?"

"I'm Summer Nightshade Water Maiden. How long are you staying in High Country?"

"Couple of Days. We're going to rescue Saffron Tinker" I boasted. "Tell me," I added, "haven't you got family in my town?"

"Down in Lowland? Oh, sure, my cousin Scarlet Nightshade. Know her? We moved to High Country when the Heartless Bodies took my father and brother when I was small. I don't often hear from my family in my town now. I try to write but it's not the same since we lost the Wire Post. The new messengers are so slow, don't you think?"

"I remember now, yes, you had to leave, six, seven I'd guess you were, wasn't it? Suppose I wasn't much older myself come to think of it."

"I'm late with Grind Underfoot's water," she said smiling like the morning sun. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

I lingered awhile longer. I sat with my back to the bank by the cold spring listening to the water as it arched and fell deeply into the pool and watching the Flame Birds going through their paces above me, whistling and winking at me and hoping from bough to bough in the branches.

Pilgrim was lounging indolently on his mattress when I got back. Worn out, he said, having been selecting weapons for the journey back to Wild Country.

"I've been for a walk above the village watching the Flame Birds," I told him. "Come on, it's time we went to look for some supper."

We went to Leather Belly's place for supper and ordered two bottles of bilberry spirits and roast meat with roast potatoes and a loaf of bread, putting it all down on Grind Underfoot's account.

"You must come with me tomorrow to get your weapons for the journey," said Pilgrim as we ate. "There's a lot of choosing to be done, you know."

But it wasn't to choose weapons with Pilgrim that I went the next day. I went up for a walk above the village to see the Flame Birds going through their tricks and showing off like anything.

"Hi, Gwern," said Summer Nightshade over her shoulder as she bent over the spring pool to fill her pitcher. She never wears shoes does Summer Nightshade and she had her skirts all hitched up around her waist with her naked legs glistened wet in the sunlight.

"It's a nice day, Summer Nightshade," I said. "These birds are quite something, aren't they? Will you have a drop of bilberry spirits?" And I fished out the bottle that I'd kept from the night before and held it out for her to see.

She came to sit beside me by the bank and that's where we were drinking bilberry spirits and talking about Lowland and about High Country and about everything under the sun. Then I put my arm around her waist and felt her warm and soft under her shirt. She rested her head on my shoulder as if she was terribly tired.

"You're so pretty, Summer Nightshade," I said in her ear as I bent over to kiss her. Her lips were warm and yielding and her fragrance of blossoms filled my head as the sun caressed my nape and as the green grass under us soothed us and I closed my eyes and enveloped myself in her warmth as my mind opened towards you and as we lay I could hear the whirling of the warm insects and could see before me the emerald grass choking the path to Tyn Coed as swallows darted overhead and could see the dry moss on the stones in the river with only a trickle flowing like water down a plug hole and I felt the sun's heat radiating from the drystone walls of the orchard and a dragonfly going zig zag, zig zag with his wings whirling like a little helicopter. You were hanging sheets to dry in the garden with the boy at your feet playing with the pegs. He pointed at me as he saw me approach and made a gurgling noise in his throat and you turned to look as I walked up the path.

"You shouldn't have come," you said. "They'll know that you've been. Hey, Calonnog! Spit that out this minute!"

"I miss you Caress..."

"You can't miss something you've never had."

"Will you give me a bit of your heart to take with me? It would be a shelter against the tempest where I have to be. It's not much to ask of you..."

"You know you could have had it all, Gwern, but we both know you would only lay it to waste. The wound is only beginning to heal from the last time, things are different now, it belongs to the boy now, Gwern, I have to be strong for him. You know that, don't you, and I'm sorry I can't give it to you again Gwern."

I felt the world getting colder and I raised my head and heard the arched water plunge hard into the spring pool and saw a little cloud swallow the sun as Summer Nightshade opened her eyes and raised her head to see. A sharp breeze was blowing, the Flame Birds had long since vanished from the trees and the evening dew was deep and menacing on the bowed blades of the green grass.

"Damn that cloud," she said nestling closer.

"You won't tell anyone that I've been up here with you drinking and so on, will you..." I couldn't keep my voice from grating.

"Of course I won't" she said looking puzzled.

"Listen, Summer Nightshade, just in case you got the wrong impression, I only came up here because I thought you might be lonely drawing water by yourself all day and no one to keep you company. It was the spirits that went straight to my head, that's what it was... You won't mention this to anyone..."

All she did was jump angrily to her feet, straighten her skirts, snatch her pitcher and stride away from me with her bare feet slapping like flatfish on the smooth stones.

I went back to our lodgings feeling quite low at heel and there I sat for ages at the table by the window with my head on my arms until Pilgrim came in looking very worried.

"Who's eaten you're porridge this time, then?" I asked sharply as I raised my head.

"Well you've never been with me to choose your weapons for tomorrow," he answered. "Come on, hurry up, we'd better go now."

I decided to go with him anyhow, anything to turn my thoughts to another matter rather than keep thinking what you'd be thinking if you knew about me now.

They could only offer us old fashioned weapons, Pilgrim told me. He now obviously knew all there was to know about it having spent his three days inspecting and selecting them. The new ones were useless, apparently, because there was no energy left to power them, that's why. But I've got to say, you would never have seen such machines as they had there, no indeed. Hand to air missiles still gleaming in their paper, electric distortion bullets in their clean cotton wool covers, dessication rays, everything you could think of. And Pilgrim still badgering me, "Look, that's a good one, Gwern, and here, look, come on look at this one, isn't that a fantastic machine if it would only work." I saw restplates by the dozen, hard and transparent like Dai Takes Eggs's one, every size to fit like a glove; three edged swords, tridents, crossbows - all come from the museum. Everything was kept in the town lockup, that's where we were. What a dreadful place. Six of the Swarthy Cavedwarves, smaller even than Grind Underfoot, having been recruited from the caves of Bleak Winter and retained as warders of the prison. Two prisoners: two Bodies without Hearts, chained fast in a dark cell. Each of the Cavedwarves would be obliged to thump both Heartless Bodies on the head six times a day a thrice at night, so it was no surprise that they both looked the worst for wear. We entered their cell for a chat between wallops.

Very chatty they are too, the Heartless Bodies. They are the ones who have to fight for the Exile Sates, that's what Saffron Tinker had told us. They don't necessarily have to be from the Exile States but are often from elsewhere, having been possessed and processed by Rausman and his Counsellors who take their hearts from them and unless they fight they don't get them back again. I'm sure I'd have been made a Hearless Body had Fischermädchen caught me and handed me over to Rausman's Counsellors. And the only treatment for Heartless Bodies in High Country is to beat them, because without electricity the head wires are no use at all, and the beating seemed to be doing some good too. These two were actually volunteers from Zigenner City in the southern Exile States. They were full of praise for the treatment afforded them, saying how lucky they were to have survived the carnage in Bleak Winter the last time they had tried to crush High Country. It was to be noted, mentioned one of them, that of course they hadn't actually survived, rather that they had been rubbed over by the Swarthy Cavedwarves' healing herbs to bring them back to life again so as to be sold by the Cavedwarves for a unit a head to Grind Underfoot, and of course that kept their expatriates in the lockup in work as well.

"Actually it has been quite super," said the bald one called Wasser Schwoll. "They have all been frightfully hospitable."

"Isn't it a drag getting beaten black and blue all the time?" I asked feigning interest in their affairs.

"Certainly not!" said the one with his matted grey hair entwined about his body, Herz Erklingt I think they called him. "I is most essential to develop a physical relationship with one's captors and we feel privileged to receive such attention."

"What did he say?" asked Pilgrim.

"Time for your hiding," said the largest Cavedwarf.

"Just a minute," I cut across. "We're here on official business on behalf of Grind Underfoot so shut your gob and go make us some tea."

He went too. The tea was like dishwater although the two without Hearts complemented it warmly. The dwarf brought us biscuits as well.

We learnt a lot from those poor hostages. They were quite surprised that I spoke their language so well.

"What I don't understand," I said, "is why the Wire Bandits would steal High Country's power supply. I thought they were part of the confederation together with Lowland and all the rest under the presidency of High Country. Surely they would be wiser not to break ranks like this but stand firm together to prevent the Exile States taking back our freedom again. They'll get nowhere at each others throats like this."

"But of course, old man," said Herz Erklingt, "Quite inexplicable, we don't pretend to understand. Together you would be unconquerable. However I firmly believe that war is now inevitable as naturally the Exile States are bound to take a dim view of your unilateral declaration of independence. They were not even consulted about the matter. I am convinced that in this instance the whole edifice of this paltry alliance shall crumble before our superior tactical organisation. This time it will be final. Zuruchschlagen!"

"Zugang Zuruchschlagen!" rejoined the bald one. They were starting to get exited and trying to get up from the floor but the fetters kept them down.

"Shut your filthy mouths," I shouted angrily. I had a word with the Cavedwarves and gave them an extra unit each to give both of them an extra beating that evening. We bade farewell and were soon back at our lodgings by the hall in the centre of Stone Town.

We were due to set out the following morning. And set out we did. I had chosen a restplate and some other junk for the journey together with a tent and a mule. Pilgrim, of course, had selected a mountain of weapons, a sackful of stones and a pen full of mules to carry all his kit. "Fool" I thought to myself seeing him struggling with all his things for a wasted journey.

Down in Bleak Winter the weather came to hit us like a pole. I was having trouble enough with Pilgrim and his obstreperous mules. The burdens would constantly fall to the ground and Pilgrim would then have to secure them on their backs again, and the mules would then refuse to go on or otherwise refuse to stop, anything to infuriate Pilgrim and to retard our journey.

Inevitably, the Swarthy Cavedwarves fell upon us and stole ten of Pilgrim's mules, leaving him crying like a baby in a wet nappy.

"Hush now," I tried to soothe him. "You've got six left, and look I only have the one. So really, what are you crying about?"

"Yes, but you only had one to start with," he whimpered, "and I had sixteen fine mules and now I've only got six. That means that I've lost out terribly and I'm quite broken hearted about the whole thing." And he started to blubber again.

"Losing a mule or two isn't so hard to swallow for God's sake." I was beginning to loosing patience.

"I couldn't spare any of these to swallow," he snapped.

I was about to reach him a sharp cuff on the ear when all of a sudden the Ice Locusts descended upon us. A lucky intervention for Pilgrim.

They were rising up over the edge of the precipice and raining down hard upon us like hailstones, the mules were struggling and Pilgrim began wailing all the louder and there was I damning and cursing and trying to kill the Ice Locusts with a two yard sword.

When we were on all fours on the ground under the weight of the locusts the Swarthy Cavedwarves returned to plunder us again.

"Enough," commanded Snow Storm, leader of the Cavedwarves, and the locusts at once rose from us.

"Throw them over the precipice," she instructed her followers who held fast onto our arms and legs and proceeded to inch us towards the chasm.

"You're making a mistake," I cried.

"Not at all," she said. "This is the precipice we always use."

"We have messages for you from the High Country Lockup Cavedwarves," I shouted from the edge.

"Drop them," said Snow Storm.

"On the ground, she means," screamed Pilgrim, struggling

as they lowered him over the edge of the abyss.

We received a fine welcome after all, indeed we did. They treated us like proper gentlefolk, allowed us to visit their caves and meet their families and warm ourselves on Ice Locust stew.

We told them that the Jailhouse Cavedwarves sent their regards and that the two without Hearts were still being beaten and that there was talk that there might be many more Heartless Bodies available in Bleak Winter soon who could be sold as hostages to Grind Underfoot as they had done with the other two and with us as well. Snow Storm and her husband Rustrat were delighted to hear the news and they did not even bother to take all our mules, belongings and provisions as they had promised, but allowed us to keep a mule each. They also furnished us with plenty of Ice Locust sandwiches. We received also a bag of healing herbs into the bargain.

"Look us up any time," they called as we rode away.

"Certainly," called back Pilgrim. "When we can afford it," he added dryly.

"You're very materialistic calling yourself a pilgrim," I chided him as we left their sight.

"What does that mean?" said the innocent one.

"Gratified by all sorts of possessions and weapons and mules and such like."

"Well I never had any before and anyway I like animals, so what's wrong with that?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm sure," I muttered turning away from him towards the path in front of me and ignoring him thereafter.

We were left alone by the Ice Locusts and hence managed to reach the Wild Country by nightfall without further incident. There was our tent, as we had left it, in the middle of the camp ledge on the mountain escarpment, and still there also was the body of the shining beast, under its pile of stones, but we didn't approach it that evening. The rocky peaks below us rose up through the clouds like islands in a sea of cotton wool, and the setting sun dying the cotton wool pink all over. They seemed so solid, the clouds, that you would expect them to hold you easily should you leap towards them from the icy brink. We pitched a few stones down from the ledge but they always seemed to vanish before reaching the clouds so we never knew whether they were really caught and held in the mists. Night fell around us and we retreated to the tent. It was quiet as the grave, no lowing of shining beasts to frighten us in the darkness, but the sound of Pilgrim's breathing and the sound of the whispering canvass progressively became amplified until they filled my head and prevented me from sleeping. It was lucky I still had my restplate.

The next morning we ventured out to inspect the shining beast's grave. We dragged a few stones from around his head to see how he was. He was much the same, dead, but the cold (and the "special stones" according to Pilgrim) had kept him in a relatively good state apart from the maggots in his wounds.

"Will the healing herbs bring him back to life again?" asked Pilgrim.

"I doubt it," I said. "Well, we might as well try I suppose."

So we built a fire to thaw some ice from the mountain and boiled it to make tea with the healing herbs and after pulling all the stones off the shining beast we packed the tea leaves into his wounds and poured some of the tea down his throat and rubbed him with the healing herbs and by this time it was time for lunch.

We repaired to the tent for lunch. We had Ice Locust sandwiches, the ones the Swarthy Cavedwarves had kindly given us in return for the roast geese and spiced sausages that we had brought with us for the journey. Foul tasting things they are too, the Ice Locusts, and very little nourishment in them I would think, if the appearance of the Swarthy Cavedwarves is anything to go by.

Anyway, in the middle of trying to force down these sandwiches what should we hear but a weak voice calling "Bwwwwww" so we got up and went out to have a look.

The shining beast had risen shakily to his feet and was looking around in bewilderment. His hide of his flank had healed along its length apart from a little claw shaped scar on his shoulder where the weapon had gone in. He had become alarmingly thin, his ribs all showing through his skin.

"Hurrah!" shouted Pilgrim, "The special stones have done the trick!"

"Hold your rejoicing, nincompoop," I reproached him, "and go boil up a saucepan of porridge for him quick as you can."

"None left," he said. "Only Ice Locust sandwiches."

The shining beast devoured all the locust sandwiches and was still hungry so I sent off Pilgrim to look for moss and grass and such like. He returned eventually with a huge armful of rushes and moss which the beast was soon munching noisily. By the following morning the beast was right as rain while the two of us were beginning to droop from hunger.

"What's for breakfast?" asked Pilgrim as soon as he awoke.

"Nothing."

"Has the shining beast eaten everything?"

"Yes. You know he has. And here are you wasting all your energy dragging a sack of stones around with you everywhere. I don't know." I was feeling very peevish. "What else have you got in that sack?"

"More special stones."

"You and you're "special" stones. Let's have a look."

"No you don't. Get away. Let go..." But I was stronger than Pilgrim and I prized the sack from his grasp and emptied it's contents on the floor of the tent. And what do you think he had under the stones? Tins of baked beans, tins of sardines, packets of pancakes, jam, butter, slabs of chocolate... and two roast geese.

"Well for Christ's sake you selfish little glutton," I cried flying into a blind rage. "Hiding all this food from me and stuffing yourself behind my back! And all the while pretending to be starving! I'll throw you over the precipice for this you greedy swine!" I'm sure I wouldn't really have thrown him over but it was enough to frighten him.

"But I really I am starving. I haven't eaten anything from the sack, it's true really. I'm disciplining myself to overcome temptation, that's all... Can I put the food back now?"

"What nonsense. Overcoming temptation? If you don't pass me the tin opener this instant the temptation to stone you to death with your bloody "special" stones with be too much for me and I won't even attempt to overcome it!"

We had soon enjoyed a hearty breakfast and both of us felt a lot better. By God, there's no end to that Pilgrim's antics, indeed there isn't.

We set off again after that. We mounted the shining beast having tied the two mules behind us. Since we still had a spare tent we left the other one standing. The shining beast was given free rein to take us whichever way he pleased in the hope that he might chance upon one of his well worn trails that would lead us to Switchback City, the lair of the Wire Bandits, but unfortunately he didn't.

There is one good thing about Pilgrim and that is his sharp eyesight. He can spot a pin head at a hundred yards and tell whether it is rusty or not. Of course he would miss the most obvious thing right under his nose, but that's beside the point, he spotted the pylons. A long line of pylons marching over the hills far below us, he reported, while I saw nothing. The shining beast refused to take us in that direction so we brought the mules up from behind and tied the beast by two long ropes to the mule's collars, mounted the mules and led the beast like that. The bull beast could have dragged us to kingdom come should he have chosen to do so, being four times the size of the two mules together, but he chose to be led as docile as a pet lamb fair play to him. And there was no trouble getting the mules to move it with a huge shining beast breathing down their necks. We soon arrived at the pylons having come from the rough rocky regions to a boundless marshy plain where the cotton grass bowed before the wind. Where the pylon lines dipped over a distant knoll there could be seen red and yellow light flickering and colouring the low clouds. We approached warily that no one might see our coming, but there was no one there. The lines between two pylons had been uncoupled and a heavy black cable had been connected, which dangled down from them emitting, from the join, red and yellow sparks which flared terribly and made a frying sound all around.

"This is the work of the Wire Bandits," said Pilgrim.

"However did you work that out," I replied dryly.

We followed the cable as it wound like a huge black eel between the marshes and the knolls. It was only as it got dark that we made out the lights of Switchback City in the distance. At first all we noticed was a glow reflected in the clouds and then we saw it, spread out on the horizon like a shower of stars fallen to earth.

The shining beast was beginning to become restless, probably sensing that the herd was close. We could hear their lowing in the distance, thankfully they weren't keeping up such a din as they used to on the escarpment. Sam, our beast, had quite recovered by now. Hearing the herd he puffed himself up to his full height, easily three yards to his shoulder, and raised his up his massive bull like head to blow hot air into the sky and flash his electric eyes. He was always docile with us though, thank God, and would always insist on sleeping with his head sticking into our tent.

We decided to pitch camp on the marshland that night, in case we lost Sam in the darkness. All around us we could hear nothing but the sound of the shining beasts lowing and snorting and munching noisily as they chewed the cud, and their pungent smell was heavy on the cold air.

"I'll never get to sleep in a place like this," moaned Pilgrim.

"A good job too," I replied. "Someone has to stay awake to keep and eye on Sam in case he tries to escape." We called him Sam because we didn't know his real name.

"You won't try to escape from Pilgrim, will you Sam?" said Pilgrim soothingly.

"Bwwwwwww," said Sam.

The next morning Pilgrim was snoring like a hog and Sam was gone. I gave him a kick in the ear and he started to screech.

"I'll kill you for this you useless scarecrow," I shouted back at him.

"He's probably outside," said Pilgrim rubbing his ear. We went out to look. There was nothing to be seen but a sea of shining beasts peacefully grazing all around us and all of them identical to one another. It's only when the get cross that they start to flash their electric eyes so we were in no danger. But had I electric eyes at that moment I would have flashed them at Pilgrim and burnt him to a cinder.

Our mules had also escaped with Sam during the night. We were ravenous and feeling weak as two rag dolls. We couldn't even take down the tent, but stumbled on towards Switchback City. We were such a sight that no one noticed us.

Switchback City is a very disorderly place. It's not really a city, rather a shanty town of corrugated iron huts with tangled cobwebs of wires coming from them and crossing in all directions. Everywhere the wires spark and smoulder and crackle like anything and make hissing frying sounds all over the place.

"Excuse me, but we're looking for Rock Jaw," asked Pilgrim of a wild looking harridan who was busy plucking a duck in the doorway of her cabin.

"AAAAAaaaaarg!" screamed she at the top of her voice letting the duck fall from her grasp. The duck scrambled frantically away from her, quacking loudly. The harridan began shouting and pointing her finger at threateningly. I presumed that they were unaccustomed to see strangers coming amongst them. In no time at all we were brought before Rock Jaw who contemplated us wearily.

"We brought the shining beast, sir." My voice was louder than I had hoped.

"Get up of that floor you moron," he said with disinterest and I was given a kick up the backside which sent me half a yard into the air. "Where is he then?"

"I'm afraid he escaped last night, sir," I said. "Pilgrim here was supposed to watch him but he fell asleep. He escaped with our two mules. He must be with his friends in the middle of the herd by now."

"Do you not think that I have heard that one before, sonny?" said Rock Jaw reaching for a meat cleaver and starting to trim a bit around his beard. "I have ten thousand shining beasts on yonder plain."

"You've got ten thousand and one now," said Pilgrim, poor fellow.

"Take the comedian for a walk, Blue Gash," said Rock Jaw with a yawn. "You might like to show him your collection of pointed sticks?"

We could hear Pilgrim's screams for a long while afterwards.

"Isn't he a silly goat," I said. "He is to blame. But I'll find your beast for you, Rock Jaw, honest I will. Can Saffron Tinker be set free afterwards?"

"No he can not. And neither can you. I am annoyed. I am cross. Nothing pleases me. And with Burnt Tongue nagging me all the time... Everyone owes me energy units and I owe energy units to everyone. I am not in a good mood. At least I shall have a few minutes entertainment this afternoon when it is time to feed the ravenous beasts. A bit on the skinny side was that other one, however no matter. Granite Fist and Chews Boulders, take him away."

"I'm so sorry to hear about all your difficulties, sir," I called as they dragged me out by the feet. "Really," I muttered once out of earshot, "I don't know what's so bloody special about that beast."

"Your game is up, anyway, sonny," said one of the guards, having overheard me. "Loosing Rock Jaw's bull beast! Ho, ho, ho..." And they laughed and laughed at my expense as if I were a circus clown.

"Well what was the work of the bull beast that Saffron Tinker has to carry out in it's place?"

"Ho, ho, ho... You'll find out soon enough. Saffron Tinker's on his last legs by now, I expect. He will be glad of your help I'm sure. Here we are, open up the cage Chews Boulders, in he goes!"

My, Saffron Tinker looked tired. He hardly raised an eyebrow in my direction as I sailed into the cell. His beard was matted and his purple nose was unpolished and dull. The shining beasts must transgress pretty often as well, I thought, as there was a cell full of them there also, stinking worse than Saffron Tinker.

"It's been a long time, Saffron Tinker," I said in case he hadn't recognised me.

"Not tonight," replied the poor bewildered fellow.

"It's me, Gwern Excuses!"

"Can't you see the red cross on their sides?"

"No, listen it's Gwern Excuses, come to rescue you, Saffron Tinker. The beast you killed is right as rain again."

"Yes, sir, all these ones already seen to. Notice the crosses!"

"You don't seem to understand, Saffron Tinker! And Pilgrim is around here somewhere. We'll all get out of here, you'll see!"

"It is crucial."

"Yes, Saffron Tinker, yes it is."

"Sir, it is crucial that I be accorded a ladder boasting a view over extensive newspaper with November externally at its base if you would be so kind or I shall telephone for additional eggs."

"I don't know," I said, unable to make head nor tail of his gibberish. "Anyway, we lost the bull shining beast on the way so who knows when we'll get out of here now."

"Oh you irresponsible rascals!" Saffron Tinker raised two tired eyelids revealing two angry yellow eyes. "I'll kill you both! Where is Pilgrim?"

"He was impudent to Rock Jaw. He has a good shouting voice, doesn't he?"

"Had, I'm afraid. Poor thing. A pity. Rest in Peace etcetera. What is the time? Oh, yes they are, by now I would imagine.'

"Stop moidering and speak straight, man!"

"Yes, wormwood and a half in a bucket is what I said and no treacle on it this time thanking you very much too you unkempt old magpie!"

"Pull yourself together, Tinker!"

"And how does the husband like prison then? Better off there, they say, than being with you, you dirty sow not even bothering to wash the sheets before eating them and I know all about your gorging yourself while I starved, you swollen suet pudding, to hell with you, spending all my few savings on your chapel hats and funeral handkerchiefs, you swollen stinkhorn pillaging the trees of their leaves in Winter and strutting around as if you were related to Snowdon but you will be disappointed! I will silence you, oh yes... oh yes I will, I will..."

"Let go of me you crazy madman," I shouted as he tried to strangle me, thinking that I was Mrs Tinker, back to haunt him after he did her in one drunken night without telling anybody because he had had enough. It was Pilgrim who knew the full story and he had let slip enough of it talking in his sleep on the back of his mule in Bleak Winter.

Thank heavens there were plenty of loose rocks strew around and I got hold of a heavy one and let him have it on the temple until I could see little stars circling around his head and until his grip slackened and he crumbled to the floor like a sandcastle, lying there groaning and dribbling blood and blathering quietly to himself. I stepped back and went to sit in the farthest corner of the cage away from him to mull over my difficulties.

"Oh, what the hell will I do now?" I said to myself. "Where is that treacherous Pilgrim, gone and left me? Tinker has lost his marbles and I'll lose mine here... Oh, what shall I do?... Why did they have to come for me at all? There are worse ones than me who've been allowed to stay and no one persecutes them... It was that bitch Scarlet Nightshade who started all this, does she think I don't know she's thick as thieves with Fischermädchen? It was her who told Fischermädchen who programmed the virus into the Persuasion Department's computer software... And now this... " My poor head felt brittle as a robin's egg, the cage was undulating like the waves of the sea before my eyes and the shining beasts were nudging their damp noses into my face, blackness was closing in around me and there I was in broad daylight standing again on the cart track to Tyn Coed where the leaves fell in showers and the bracken rusted, where the bowed grass was wet underfoot and the slabbed path slippery as soap, where the crows cawed from the crowns of the stark oaks and the smell of the far marshes hung upon the breeze, I walked on as the river dressed it's white ribbons about the proud rocks while the cobwebs of drizzle clung to my hair and the flattened smoke slunk from the looming chimney and I knocked and heard your voice calling "Come in" and I went in to the warm smell of a wood fire and ironing clothes and you put down the iron and glared at me with pin prick pupils.

"What do you want?"

"I came to see you and Calonnog."

"He's not here. You've got a nerve. Coming here as bold as brass when everyone knows what you've been up to. Get out of here, go on back to your Summer Nightshade you womanising swine and to the others too!"

"Where is he?"

"With Scarlet Nightshade. You won't see him again. Get out of my sight. I don't want you here."

"Let me explain..."

"Come one step closer and you'll get this iron in your face. Just go!"

"Be careful with that Scarlet Nightshade. Be careful Caress. One day you'll know who is true to you and who isn't."

"Get out you twofaced bastard! And don't darken my door again!" With that you started to shake me like a rattle, shoving me back towards the door until I was reeling from side to side and you were hitting he about the head with the iron as I bent like a reed in the wind and the whole room became darker and darker, spinning away from me at the end of a long tunnel like looking down the wrong end of a telescope and Pilgrim's voice calling, "Wake up, Gwern, wake up will you" as he stood over me shaking me like a rag doll and whacking me about the head with his shoe.

"What the hell d'you want?" I said peevishly. "Can't you see I'm sleeping, leave me alone."

"Snap out of it, Gwern, hurry up! Come on, we're leaving!"

"How did you get here, Pilgrim?" I spluttered as I came to my senses. "I thought you'd had it good and proper from them for being impudent with Rock Jaw?"

"Oh, that? Yes," he said nonchalantly as if he were an old hand at being thrashed. "But I found the shining beast and Rock Jaw says we can go now."

"Where did you find him, Pilgrim?"

"It was him who found me," he said scratching his nose pensively. "There I was, lying at the bottom of Rock Jaw's ditch, and Granite Fist letting loose the ravenous beasts from the fasting pen to fall upon me and devour me when a huge shining beast came from behind and butted him into the ditch on top of me and then bent his big black head down to me until I could grab his horns and he pulled me out and started to lick my face and to blow warm air like the smell of biscuits up my nose while the ravenous beasts swallowed up Granite Fist. There was a little scar the shape of a claw on his shoulder and I shouted, "Sam Rock Jaw's shining bull beast!" And that's how I gained forgiveness for being cheeky with Rock Jaw, although I hadn't really thought to be cheeky with him at all, it's just he's thin skinned as a frog and..."

"Yes, yes, very good, you can shut up now," I cut across him. "Where is Saffron Tinker then, we have to take him with us?"

"With the mules."

"O dear," I said dejectedly. "Thinks he's a mule now, does he?"

"Actually, no. Thinks he's a saddle now, wants to be stretched over his mule's back with his hands and feet making a girth about the mule's belly as he was tied by the Wire Bandits, and he wants me to sit on top of him."

"Well, I suppose at least we won't have any trouble in getting him back like that." Boulder Biter held the door open as we left the cage.

"I'm sorry about Granite Fist," I said to him as I passed.

"I'm not," he replied.

"It is not usual for me to thank anyone for anything," said Rock Jaw as we stood before him in the Big Hut. "So bugger off before you annoy me. However, before you go, is there anything you would like to take with you as a souvenir?"

"I'd be very happy if I could keep these little stones I collected in your ditch," said Pilgrim.

"Keep them then, and treasure them," said Rock Jaw. "Saffron Tinker, what do you choose?"

"I'll have my girths oiled with goose fat that the leather may be supple should you see her say that I remember to append a foreword."

"Boulder Biter!" shouted Rock Jaw, "Smite the lunatic." Boulder Biter boxed Saffron Tinker's ears and the Tinker thanked him heartily.

"Gwern Excuses," Rock Jaw turned regally towards me. "What would you like as your souvenir of Switchback City?"

"Well, sir, since you are generous enough to make the offer, I was wondering would it be possible for you to restore the electricity supply to High County please? It's so boring there without television, sir."

"Fine," said Rock Jaw. "And now, adieu to the three of you. Give my regards to Grind Underfoot... Oh, and tell him that the wires predict war."

"We surely will, sir," said Pilgrim and out we went to the mules. Pilgrim adjusted Saffron Tinker on the mule's back and then climbed up to sit upon him as we set out for High Country without once looking back in case Rock Jaw changed his mind.

I can vaguely recall that the return to High Country was as long, cold and arduous as ever, but that's about all I can remember because Saffron Tinker had swallowed the energy pack of my mobile processor resulting in my being unable to enter my usual notes. All I now remember of the journey is a confused muddle of disjointed troubles.

However we obviously must have reached High Country at last, and what a welcome had been laid on for us! High Country's white on white banners were displayed all along the streets and the population were all on their doorsteps cheering us on, others were waving at us from upstairs windows and throwing multi coloured paper streamers down on us as we passed. Even the Flame Birds were there, performing somersaults in the air and screeching at us like mad things; what with them and the meowing and droning of the pipers and the booming of the drums and with the sun beating down on our heads it was no wonder that my head was spinning worse than Wil Pickled Herring's on a Sunday morning.

Of course Pilgrim was delighted with it all. I suppose he thought the celebrations had been laid on just for him. There he rode through the pressing throng pleased as punch and smiling like a Cheshire cat, waving in triumph to the people on every side. Every now and then he would rise up in his stirrups so that he might count how many had turned out to watch and he would get quite irritated that no one had bothered to lay palm leaves in front of his mule. Saffron Tinker underneath him had managed to get one hand free from the thongs binding him and had started to shake his fist, swearing and cursing and shouting some uncouth nonsense as he tried to raise his head to spit at anyone who would get too close.

What with these two acting the goat like this and the crowd pressing in on us from both sides and the mules forever stopping to graze the coloured streamers it was little wonder that we took a good hour to reach Grind Underfoot's hall and so I suppose it was no wonder that he was cross about being kept waiting all that time.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded instead of welcoming us back from our journey as perhaps he might have done.

"We've been to the Wild Country where we rescued Saffron Tinker from the Wire Bandits," said Pilgrim with a proud grin.

"Come here," commanded Grind Underfoot.

Pilgrim mounted the steps up to his dais and stood before the throne. "Bend forward," said Grind Underfoot and without another word lashed out a ringing blow to Pilgrim's forehead. "Stupid boy," he added with another stinging clout to the side of his head. "I happen to have been waiting for you here for one hour and ten minutes. Nobody slights Grind Underfoot in this way without paying the value of a prince's insult. Do you understand?" With that he brought his knee up between Pilgrim's legs making him close like a book and collapse in a groaning heap on the floor. "Do you understand now, you insolent little weevil?"

"YYyyyees, sir...YYyyess, sir..." whimpered Pilgrim without a trace of a smile on his ashen face. "I'm very sorry, sir...It won't happen again, sir."

"That's better," said Grind Underfoot. "Now get up off my floor you maggot or you'll spoil the shine of my slates. Go on, get away from me down to those two monkeys down there!" Pilgrim had hardly struggled to his feet when he was dealt a mighty kick in the behind which sent him sailing through the air towards us to land on his nose at our feet.

"Why is it always me that gets hit?" whined Pilgrim through his tears. I kicked him to make him shut up.

"Now then," continued Grind Underfoot, "here is an invoice each for the value of this insult to me. One hour ten minutes of a prince's time at ten thousand units an hour, that makes three thousand eight hundred and eighty units each to be paid within seven days. And now, finally, what tidings from the Wild Country?"

I nudged Pilgrim with my foot to get him to stand up and give his report. He had worn an old tie for the occasion which he straightened and clearing his throat with a cough announced: "Burnt Tongue wife of Rock Jaw says there are no tidings left after computer viruses corrupted the software on all her tidings and forecast terminals. But I found some nice red stones in Grind Underfoot's ditch, sir, and he let me keep them too, as a souvenir of Switchback City, because it was me who found his shining beast, sir, and these are the very best stones that ever i had, sir, look, you can see them twinkling and sparkling."

"Bring them here...Hmmm...These are mine now." It was really a shame to watch Pilgrim fighting back the tears as he

transferred his little collection to Grind Underfoot.

"Saffron Tinker is very quiet," announced Grind Underfoot turning his attention away from Pilgrim. "Take that gag from his mouth and let us hear what he has to say."

"Begging your pardon, sir," I ventured, "but I am not sure how wise that would be, sir..."

"Do it!" Screamed Grind Underfoot and we hurriedly tore the binding from his head and pulled the rag that had been stuffed in his mouth to put paid to his ranting.

"Saffron Tinker," declared Grind Underfoot, "present your report from Switchback City. Were you well served?"

"Served? I was only served that's all, what the hell's the matter with you all here, where's the goose fat I've already ordered, no one's lubricated the girth straps, the carwden is loose from the strodur and God alone knows where this scatterbrained boy's put the tindres, he must be sorely punished for this I'm telling you and what's the use me telling you and nobody taking a blind bit of notice when I say the girth needs tightening and this one here riding as if he had his trousers full of ants it's no wonder his mule is unruly, good Lord Jesus he's a giddy goat this boy, there's nothing in there between those two cabbage ears of his, I know from bitter experience, oh yes, many's the time I've been there searching for the tindres and finding nothing but cobwebs and a dusty copy of Pilgrim's Progress with the pages all stuck together and the little rascal knows full well I can't stand the smell of that grease he rubs on his back side because he's such a pampered softy who isn't used to riding mules always walking everywhere like some wingless heron, my God he needs some sense knocking into his head, so he does and if you won't do it then I will and I'm telling you..."

"That's enough!" Shouted Grind Underfoot getting into a temper.

"Don't try to patronise me just because you've lost the best saddle you ever had because you won't get me and that's that! Go straight to hell!"

"Put the rag back in his mouth!" roared Grind Underfoot beside himself with rage, bouncing up and down on his dais. "If I had permission I would torture him to death with a hot poker for that!"

"Why the hell do you need permission if you're a prince?" shouted Saffron Tinker spitting out the rag we were trying to force into his mouth. "What a second rate prince, having to get permission from Faithful Night, probably even has to ask to go to the toilet I surpooooonngngngn ngngnwweengwee..." The rag did the trick eventually and we bound it tight.

"I'm afraid he's lost his marbles, sir," I explained apologetically. "He was forced to live in a cage full of shining beasts day in and day out after he killed Sam, Rock Jaw's bull beast. You mustn't take any notice of him, sir."

"What about you, then, sonny?" said Grind Underfoot still steaming like a kettle. "What's your story? Come on."

"Humbly report, sir, Rock Jaw sends his regards and has agreed to restore the electricity supply."

"That's done it! Right, I shall have you torn limb from limb for that! You're even madder than the other two! Sends me his regards, indeed! Restored the electricity supply, indeed! Oh, you unpleasant little insect, come here!"

"But it's true, sir, look, you'll soon see." I ran to the nearest light switch. Nothing happened.

"Guards, arrest him!" he shouted as I ran from switch to switch down the hall.

"Probably the element," said Pilgrim dejectedly, "needs a new bulb probably, or perhaps a fuse has blown."

"Rock Jaw said something else as well," I called over my shoulder as I dodged the guards. "He said the wires predicted war and..." I couldn't finish because Giant Hands had got hold of me and was beginning to twist my head from my shoulders.

Grind Underfoot raised a hand and my head was released. "Well why didn't you say so before? Guards, bring bulbs from the storeroom and find Bright Spark and bring him here to fix the fuse."

The new bulbs were obtained. The fuse was mended. The lights were switched on and a wave of white light rippled from one end of the hall to the other like a stone thrown into a pool. Grind Underfoot switched on his grid screen which hummed and whirred and the screen flashed up the green opening menu.

"You can go," said Grind Underfoot not looking up from his screen. He seemed to have lost interest in us. "Oh, just a minute," he added. "The word is that the three of you are to present yourselves tonight in the Lower Level... And don't forget that you owe me for the insult, because I won't!"

On our way out who should we meet but Summer Nightshade bringing spring water for Grind Underfoot.

"Hello, Summer Nightshade," I said looking down at my feet and feeling myself blushing.

She strode right past us as if I wasn't even there.

"Did you know her?" asked Pilgrim. "Wasn't that..."

"No, not really."

"Nggnggg wwwww ngg," said Saffron Tinker but we couldn't understand him with his mouth full of rags.

Outside on the street the flags had gone and the coloured streamers were no longer littering the streets. The Flame Birds had gone to roost. An evening breeze stirred up the dust in the gutters. There were very few people about and those that were kept their heads down as they went about their business, as if struggling against a strong wind.

We struck out sharply for the edge of town. On turning a corner we bumped into a little old lady bent almost double, dragging a heavy sack behind her. "Excuse me," I asked taking a step back, "do you know the way to the Lower Level?"

She didn't answer, didn't even raise her head, but just struggled on past us without a word.

"Ngggannngw," said Saffron Tinker pointing with his elbow towards the surrounding hills.

"Yes, this way," declared Pilgrim crossing the road.

"The mad leading the blind," I said as I resigned myself to following them out of the village into the blue and white world of a full moon night on the mountain.

Having spent several hours stumbling about the arid hillsides we suddenly found ourselves before a great oak door studded with iron nail heads like black currants over it and with a massive oak frame around it at the foot of a sheer white granite cliff face which sparkled in the moonlight.

"This is where he lives, probably," said Pilgrim wiping the sweat from his brow and making the dry soil crunch under the soles of his boots as he turned towards it.

"Who d'you mean?" I asked.

"Well the Answer Keeper of course," and he knocked hard on the door.

No one came to answer his knocking and what did he do but catch hold of the latch and pull the door towards him on rasping hinges and stuck his head in.

"Ouch!" he cried stepping back and holding his head in his hands.

"Stupid idiot," I said leaning forwards to rap my knuckles against the smooth white wall of granite that blocked the doorway.

We continued on our way, clambered up the hillside and there, on the summit, was a black hole which, upon inspection, contained stone steps descending into the bowels of the mountain.

"I was right," said Pilgrim. "That's where he lives, all right! Down in the Lower Level!"

"Nggwaa nggwaaa," said Saffron Tinker backing off. We hauled him after us with two ropes the Pilgrim found in his sack.

"We may as well try it," I said and down we went.

The Answer Keeper must be a very parsimonious man, I thought to myself, or perhaps he doesn't realise that the power supply has been restored. The black hole of Calcutta would be light as day compared with this hole, for Christ's sake.

Having reached one thousand two hundred and something as I counted the steps on our way down Pilgrim made me lose my count by asking the Answer Keeper' phone number.

"What the hell do I know?" I snapped angrily. "What's the matter with you asking such stupid questions and making me lose my count you brainless gecko?"

"I thought we could telephone him to find out if he's at home."

"Oh, brother!" I exclaimed, "and have you got a mobile phone in that sack as well, have you? It won't work down here you know."

"No, no, Gwern, here, there's a phone in the wall here. I can feel it under my hand. Look..."

"Look indeed," I said feeling my way towards his voice keeping my palm to the rough wall to try to find out what he was on about.

There really was a telephone in the wall and as I put the receiver to my ear a voice said "Lower Level O, O, O"

"Is the Answer Keeper home?" I asked.

"Who's there?" asked the voice.

"Us."

"Who are you?"

"Gwern Excuses, Pilgrim and Mad Saffron Tinker."

"Come in."

"In where?"

"Put the phone down then turn into the tunnel that will open before you to your right hand side as you go down."

"Could you switch on the lights for us?" But the voice had gone leaving nothing but the tone.

The tunnel was as dark as the stone stairs but as we followed it the walls fell away from us and soon our footsteps were floating into space all around us and nothing to be felt in any direction but the floor under our feet as we ran this way and that in the dark without bumping into any obstacle or impediment other than one another occasionally. We heard Saffron Tinker let out a panic stricken "Nggwaaa Ngggwwaaaa" and stopped to listen for the echo of his voice from some far wall but the sound was gone like a stone falling into a cloud.

"Welcome," the voice whispered by our side.

"Is that what you call it," snivelled Pilgrim in a tearful voice. He's rather afraid of the dark, I think.

"Are you the Answer Keeper?" I asked to which the voice laughed heartily.

"I am Faithful Night, my friends. I am his servant. It was I who ordered Grind Underfoot to send the three of you here."

"How can a servant order a prince to do anything?" said Pilgrim who seemed to have got over his initial fright somewhat. Faithful Night took no notice of him.

"I have work for you," he said.

"Ngwaa Ngwaa Nggng," said Saffron Tinker who must made his way towards our voices.

"What did he say?" asked Faithful Night.

"He's rather eccentric, sir," I explained. "In fact he's bonkers."

"Let him speak!"

Pilgrim must have caught him and pulled off the binding around his head because the next minute Saffron Tinker's voice flooded the void like a sluice gate opening: "...telling me her old lies and expecting me to believe them, 'what's the matter with you' I said to her, 'do you think I'm crazy you old crow, put the bedroom light on will you, you slut so's I can see your ugly mug so's I can belt you one' says I and what does she do, she lights a match and sets the bed on fire and there I am tied hand and foot and the flames blistering the ceiling and licking the soles of my feet and she throws open the window roaring with laughter into the night, 'laugh will you?' says I as I fry like a trout in butter, 'have you enough light now, you odious crab,' she says and I'm telling you now that..."

"Shut up, Saffron Tinker," I said lashing out a fist in his direction and connecting with a smack.

"Ouch you bastard!" cried Pilgrim who's nose appeared to have been in the way.

"Now, now," said Faithful Night, "none of that here! And Saffron Tinker, you pull yourself together or it will be the worst for you."

"Worst he says," shouted Saffron Tinker. "Worst he says the lying devil it's no better for you having stolen the light bring it back to me or I'll trample you under foot do you hear you cunning swine where have you hidden it I'll half kill you, you bogeyman and who are all these other people, go to hell the bloody lot of you, go on before I beat you all to a pulp."

"That's enough unless you want the mouth rag," I said and surprisingly Saffron Tinker remained quiet.

"When the wise go astray they go well astray," commented Faithful Night with a sigh.

"He never was wise," said Pilgrim.

"What's this work you've got for us then?" I asked. "Is the pay good?"

"Pay?" There was incredulity in Faithful Night's voice. "Is the honour of serving your people not enough reward for you, Gwern Excuses?"

"The hell it is. What have they ever done for free for me?"

"Fine. We shall therefore have to hand you over to the Heartless Bodies, I understand they are keen to meet you. I am sure you will be warmly welcomed by Befehlnotstand and the Heartless Bodies, perhaps even by Rausman personally I should not be surprised."

"What do you want me to do, sir?" I said.

"Could you turn on the lights down here, if you see fit?" pleaded Pilgrim.

"There is no light down here therefore I do not see fit to do anything. However I do feel that which rests upon people's hearts and I find that quite sufficient to know them, light or no light."

"What does he mean, Gwern?" asked Pilgrim.

"I don't believe it," I said. "What's in Pilgrim's heart, poor devil, if you're so clever?"

"In his heart there is a river flowing uphill," said Faithful Night.

"What do you mean?" asked Pilgrim. "What about Saffron Tinker, does he have a heart?"

"Oh, yes. In his heart there is a wild river flowing into a deep cave."

"Don't give me that crap," I said trying to laugh. "What's in my heart then? Tell me that?"

"In your heart there is a river flowing between valley meadows with tree branches hanging over it, Gwern, and a ruined cottage on its banks with brambles' fingers poking out of the windows."

"I'm not going to listen to this twaddle," I said sharply. "Tell us what you want with us or let us go!"

"Calm down now, Gwern," said the voice slowly. "You've done quite well up to now, don't blow it... Well, yes, so be it for all that, as you are no doubt now aware, Rausman has ordered Befehlnotstand to mass the Heartless Bodies along the borders of the Exile States and the forecast is that there will soon be another strike against the Alliance."

"We heard some such rumours," I said.

"Right then. Well, now that you have won back Rock Jaw's allegiance to High Country and the Confederation..."

"Forgive me," I butted in, "but all he did was agree to restore the supply he had stolen and..."

"Exactly. Yes, Rock Jaw has always been something of a black sheep but now he's back in the fold where he belongs, thanks to you! I'm sure Grind Underfoot's face was a sight worth seeing when you told him Rock Jaw sent him his regards."

"He got angry because he thought Gwern was fibbing," said Pilgrim.

"I also note that you have to some extent pacified the Swarthy Cavedwarves. It was no mean feat to get them on your side. So now listen, I have advised the Answer Keeper to appoint you his War Envoys to carry the message to mobilise forces to all members of the Alliance! Are you willing and able?"

"Well I'll have a go," I said. "But I don't know if I can manage it with these two clowns for assistants."

"The boy want's to go alone, wants to go alone he does, alone it is he wants to go, let him go alone, yes, yes, he's to go all on his own, that's it, that's it, that's it..."

"Be quiet, Saffron Tinker," said the voice in an official tone. "You all must go."

"Does that include me, sir?" asked Pilgrim and I hissed "Hush now" in his ear for being so silly.

"Put out you hand, Gwern," said the voice. I did so and felt immediately the cool roughness of the tunnel wall beneath my fingers. "The steps are to the left some way down," continued the voice. "Tell no one of your mission, send nothing through the wires. Oh, and you had better leave your mobile processor here, Gwern, just in case. Grind Underfoot will provide everything necessary for your journey. I shall expect you back here in due course. Do you all understand? Gwern?"

"Understood, sir."

"Saffron Tinker?"

"Yes, it is he, I am convinced, what is the charge this time, sir?"

"Pilgrim?"

"May I have the question again, sir, so as to be sure of the answer?"

By the time we reached the head of the stairs the sun was high in the sky making us squint through our fingers. It was downhill all the way and in no time we were back in Stone Town and we went straight away towards Leather Belly's place where we ordered food and drink as much as we could eat and the best rooms in the house to sleep out the day and sleep through the night.

We were woken that night by Dai Takes Eggs who had travelled far and wide in search of us.

"Thought you might like to hear these," he said chucking four tapes onto my bed.

"Oh, great, some new releases!" said Pilgrim from the other bed. "We only get to hear old fashioned stuff up here."

"Oh shut up, Pilgrim," said Dai Takes Eggs. "Come on, hurry up, we can listen to them in the sound chamber. Where is Saffron Tinker? Sleeping upstairs? Leave him there... Hey, Gwern, you're on these tapes and so is Fischermädchen. I had a hell of a job getting hold of them."

"What if the Seen and Heard knew?"

"They don't suspect a thing, Gwern. Stroke of luck for once. Come on, let's go."

He told us he'd obtained a special pass that would admit him to the most secretive places, that he'd been given it by Faithful Night himself, that's what he told us; that he had penetrated the depths of the Seen and Heard's underground chambers and had managed to lift these four tapes and have them copied before anyone could detect a thing or suspect him in any way. We were supposed to believe him, I suppose, but Dai Takes Eggs never tells the whole truth, I guess he's no longer able to, and in many ways that's probably a good thing in his position, being a spy. Suspicious of everyone and thinking that everyone is suspicious of him. He must be convinced that we are trustworthy at least. He's from Lowland, isn't he, or that's what I've always heard.

As Leather Belly was busy in bed with a visitor from the border regions we were obliged to borrow a bottle of spirits from his store without asking. It was a good thing too that we took it as we would never have stayed awake in the warmth of the sound chamber without it, not at five in the morning, slouched in the deep and cozy seats of the auditorium.

"Stick a tape in the player," said Dai Takes Eggs throwing one of them at Pilgrim. I relaxed back into the seat with my legs over the back of the one in front as the chamber began to echo like a cave. The clicking and whirring of the wires was suddenly broken by the familiar rasp of Fischermädchen's voice seemingly coming from all directions at once.

"...At last! Where have you been, Gwern? I've been waiting for your call."

"I know. I'll be round first thing in the morning if you like. Is it anything to do with the work on the network? Listen, I did tell them I was not entirely sure about the new software... Are they really angry?"

"Tomorrow morning eight o'clock. Don't worry about anything, Gwern. Come at eight, everything is fine."

"I didn't know you'd been on radio, Gwern," said Pilgrim but Dai Takes Eggs raised a finger to his lips to shut him up.

The wires clicked and whirred again and through them came her voice enveloped us again, this time cold and purposeful as she demanded, "Bettnachzieher!"

"He is in bed, Madam Fischermädchen."

"Well get him!"

"We are not certain in whose bed he is tonight, Madam Fischermädchen."

"Put me through to General Befehlnotstand."

"Do you have a security clearance code, Madam Fischermädchen?"

"Twelve twenty two sixty six. Now put me through you cheap little trollop before I get angry."

"Right away, Madam Fischermädchen."

Some strange music came over the speakers and then we heard a receiver being picked up and a man's voice talking like the sound of a stream gurgling over pebbles. "Fischermädchen. I presume that this is important."

"General Befehlnotstand, my apologies for troubling you. Bettnachzieher was out... again - he never seems to be at his post. I had no option but to come through to you although I realise it should be dealt with by a lower rank. If only Bettnachzieher would be more diligent! General Befehlnotstand, the slippery eel has swallowed the bait. I shall be drawing in the line at eight tomorrow morning. The Heartless Bodies can come!"

"Hmmmm. We as it happens, Bettnachzieher is here with me discussing strategy. Fortunately he is one of the few who are not tied to their desks. I will advise him of the situation. By eight tomorrow everything will be in place."

"Thank you Gener..." The line closed. "Swine," said Fischermädchen coldly.

"Haven't you got any tapes with pictures?" asked Pilgrim. "These ones are so boring."

"What d'you want, jam on both sides?" asked Dai Takes Eggs. "Get lost if you're going to moan. Snap in the second tape instead of yawning like a catfish."

"What's a catfish?"

"Just do it!"

Again the speakers crackled and spat static and then came the voice of heavy breathing. "General Befehlnotstand, General Befehlnotstand! Thank God you picked up the phone!"

"Good morning, Fischermädchen. Ask one of the Heartless Bodies to bring the little worm to the phone and have him hurt badly that I may hear him squirm. I have been looking forward to this."

"General Befehlnotstand, he failed to turn up. The Heartless Bodies have been to his lodgings. We have had the place turned over. The bird has flown."

"Fischermädchen, I am disappointed in you. I shudder to think what Rausman will have to say about this. I would not wish to be in your shoes at this juncture. I want the contents of his green screen personal information file downloaded through the red channel immediately! I shall have his details on every green screen from Entwürdigung City to Bharatistan. The little fox will not get far."

"General Befehlnotstand, the little fox has formatted the hard disk. All that remains is a foul message suggesting that I perform a lewd act with 'my fish', sir."

"You are loosing your grip, Fischermädchen. It seems you have blown your cover this time. I believe you are loosing the faith the Lowlanders have been painstakingly persuaded to put in you. Perhaps it is something in your voice? What is it about you? You were fully trained and briefed. A waste of time! I hold you personally responsible for this. You have three days to identify the insect's lair and to crush it under your heel. Failure will result in difficulties for you. Do I make myself clear, Fischermädchen?"

"Perfectly, General Befehlnotstand. Firstly, may I exp..."

The customary click closed the line leaving only the phone's tone as a background to Fischermädchen's slow, deliberate swearing in language so exalted and pure that I could scarcely make out any of it.

"You really dropped her in it, didn't you," commented Dai Takes Eggs. "Serves her right, the toffee nosed shrew. Sharp of you to have wiped the disk, Gwern, all credit where it's due."

"I had the network code," I replied. "I'd worked it out previously. All you need is the right key and you can open any door. By the way, how are things down in Lowland at present? Is there much talk of war down there?"

"Are you mad? Talk of war has been banned under Lowland Council rule seven two seven. They don't want to annoy the Exile States now, do they? And all that toilet paper with Befehlnotstand's face on it has been withdrawn too. It looks as if it won't be long before things start to hot up. I mean why else would Befehlnotstand's legions be massing all along the frontiers? 'Manoeuvres' they say officially, do you believe it? And I heard that Rausman himself recently addressed a vast assembly of his slaves as part of the Exile States' forever-triumphant freedom celebrations. Oh, yes, I can see it coming, boy."

"But Lowland is a free country now," said Pilgrim. "They don't have to fight."

"Oh, I see, Pilgrim, of course," replied Dai Takes Eggs. "Lowland is free, how stupid of me. Free to follow in the footsteps of the Exile States and imitate them every step of the way. Free to acquiesce and to bow down low, is that what you mean? Free to agree but not to differ. Yes, you've hit the nail on its head again, Pilgrim, of course they don't have to fight. They can put their hands in the air like last time and let Befehlnotstand line them up against a wall. He doesn't have any use for the people, it's only the land he wants, that was in the papers."

"It won't come to war," said Pilgrim sulkily.

"You'd be shot for saying that in the Exile States," snapped Dai Takes Eggs. "But you'd probably have been shot ages ago for being silly anyway. Put the third tape in the slot and stop acting the goat."

"Click," went the tape and out came Fischermädchen's voice talking our language, her accent creaking like a swollen door. "Well, hello, Scarlet Nightshade, its been a while."

"Fischermädchen? I was about to phone you..."

"Well you didn't, did you? You are a fickle girl. Would you betray me, Scarlet?"

"Gosh, no, Fischermädchen, never! Didn't the report please you? What's wrong?"

"It's you that's wrong, Scarlet Nightshade, you. I am not even sure that I can still depend upon you."

"You can, certainly, yes you can, I wouldn't double cross you Fischermädchen, you know that..."

"Prove it. I want to know about Gwern Excuses. You know him don't you?"

"Hardly. Enough to say 'hello'."

"Enough to say, 'Jest leave me alone...! Jest go. Go to your Caress then, see if she'll take you back.'?"

"How did you know about that?"

"To be dim whited is not a qualification for my job, Scarlet Nightshade, but to know the long and the short of your lies, now that is an important qualification, wouldn't you say so?"

"What do you want of me?"

"I want to know about Gwern Excuses."

"You probably know more than I do already."

"Probably."

"What good am I to you then?"

"You are my eyes and my ears, Scarlet Nightshade. Now open that beak start singing."

"I don't know him that well. If I'd known him better he would never have been able to steal my heart. He took it before I knew it. Then he threw it down and crushed it under his foot."

"He did that, did he, Scarlet?"

"He's in love with Caress, not with me. He's been in love with her, the little bitch, long before he ever pretended to care for me. He never cared for me at all, not even when we lay together at night, his gentle whispers were nothing but corrupted lies. "I don't want to hurt you," he told me, "I don't want to hurt you," and with every word it was like a heel turning in my heart. I didn't know him at all."

"Do you know him now?"

"Perhaps... How should I know? Anyway, that's really all I know to tell you about him."

"Why do you defy me, my pretty? Am I not your friend? Who else has stood up for you? You know you can trust me, Scarlet."

"I know. I'm sorry Fischermädchen. It was Wil Pickled Herring who broke my necklace and made me cry, not Gwern. He wouldn't have done that. Wil Pickled Herring got jealous to see me talking with Gwern on Town Square. Wil Pickled Herring is a wild one in his drink, until he's had one too many that is, or when he's sober."

"I'm not interested in some drunk Skunk. Don't start to change the subject. What did Gwern Excuses have to say to you on Town Square to rile Wil Pickled Herring so?"

"He told me he'd done something terrible in the Exile States and that he'd made a mess of some software or other, I really don't understand these things. Said it was all a mistake but that now the Heartless Bodies would be sure to be after him and that he didn't intend hanging around waiting for them to pick him up. Mind you, he didn't seem too worried. "They don't know yet that it was me," he said. "I'm not scared of the Heartless Bodies." "Why are you shivering then?" I asked. "Because you're so close to me," he said, but he was only mocking me. "Get away from there, Scarlet!" said Wil Pickled Herring crossing over from the White Wheat Tavern towards us, seeing me with Gwern. "Get away from the little traitor." He grabbed me by the arm to pull me away. "Who are you calling a traitor you drunk scum?" said Gwern looking him straight in the eye. I shrugged off Will's grasp but he snatched at my necklace and started to drag me away. He dragged me down into the subway where the necklace burst, then he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out the other side where he hit me in the face but I managed to get free and I ran off, I ran and ran to my sister's house and I didn't go back to pick up the necklace beads until I knew that Wil Pickled Herring would be pickled senseless outside All Night Café and no good to anyone any more. That's where I saw Gwern last."

"In the subway?"

"Yes."

"I know. There's a good girl telling the truth for once. Where did he go from there?"

"How should I know? Home I guess. Or to see Caress. Ask her. Don't ask me."

"He's pretty close to her, isn't he?"

"Too close by half. Too close for his own good. I would have been better for him. And everybody knows that she's head over heels with him but the little fool won't forgive him. What's a bit of fooling around? It's in his nature. She can't understand that. She has to have all or nothing, that's Caress for you. Who the hell does she think she is, holding her head up high on Town Square when everyone knows he's the father."

"Gwern? He's the father then? Calonnog's father?"

"Who else? You knew that already. Everybody knows."

"Of course I knew, yes, of course. It has been interesting talking with you. Is that the time? Well, good bye for now, Scarlet. And remember, next time phone me before I phone you."

Fischermädchen must have carefully replaced the receiver because there was only the lightest click as the line closed.

"Bit of a fly by night," said Dai Takes Eggs smugly. "What's done by night is seen by day. Did you know about this, Pilgrim?"

"It's none of my business," said Pilgrim.

"That's right," I said, "so just shut up Takes Eggs. You would do well to check out the beam in your own eye. Everyone gets to know soon enough where you have been when all the nursery schools start to fill up with your offspring."

"There was no need for that," grumbled Dai Takes Eggs.

"He that sows brambles should not go barefoot," commented Pilgrim philosophically.

"From fools comes truth," I added. "Put in the last tape, Pilgrim, and leave wisdom to those that believe themselves wise."

There was a terrible scratching sound at the start of the last tape but it soon cleared to the bleep of an answer machine and the shock of hearing my own voice from what seemed another age chirping like a cricket, "Gwern here. Thanks for calling. I can't take your call right now. Please leave a message after the tone..."

"Pilgrim speaking on behalf of Asgwrn Ffriddoedd summoning Gwern Excuses to Sunless Summer," said Pilgrim's voice from my answer machine tape.

"That was me!" shouted Pilgrim hitting the stop button. "Do you remember that, Gwern? Can we hear it again?"

"No I don't and no you can't," I said.

"But you told Asgwrn Ffriddoedd that you'd got the message."

"How is it you remember the most trivial details, Pilgrim? Why don't you ever remember anything important? All right, OK, so I told a lie. What does it matter. If I had listened to the message I certainly would never have come this way. Now press the button and be quiet."

Next came Fischermädchen's voice spitting venom into my little machine: "Gwern Excuses. Where are you? Wake up! It's gone eight o'clock! Why do you not come like you are told? You must now come immediately. Immediately!"

"These tapes are not all in the right order," I said.

"Don't complain," said Dai Takes Eggs. "It was enough for me to get them copied any old how. This one now is the last part."

"Who's on this one then?"

"If you shut up you'll hear..."

"...not here." It was your voice, Caress.

"Has he been there?" demanded Fischermädchen.

"What is it to you?"

"Listen, Caress, we are worried about him. He should have been here at eight this morning. He did not come. We are concerned that something may have happened to him."

"You want me to believe that? Why would you worry about him? What is he to you?"

"What is he to you, Caress? If you tell me truly then I also will tell you."

"You people from the Exile States, I thought you were supposed to know everything."

"Yes, Caress, from the Exile States perhaps, but I am here for your own good. You know that. It is a turbulent period in Lowland's history. Your new freedom is fragile and I am here to ensure it's future. Gwern has been very naughty. He has made a mess of the tidy systems of our friends across the border. But I know it was unintentional and that's why I want to make things better for him before he, if you'll excuse my use of your crude language, really and truly pisses off Befehlnotstand and the Heartless Legions."

"I'm saying nothing. I know nothing. Befehlnotstand will never get his claws into him and neither will the Heartless Legions."

"Don't you be too sure, Caress. I would certainly hate to think what they would do to him should he fall into their clutches before he had a chance to apologise. Lowland is completely surrounded by a circle of steel, he cannot get away, the net is closing in on him. Do you not want to help him?"

"But he meant no harm, Fischermädchen, you said that yourself. We all know how headstrong he can be, but he's not really against the Exile States no matter what he blabbers in his drink."

"You will help him, won't you?"

"I don't want him to get hurt."

"You love him very much, don't you Caress?"

"Yes but I wish he wasn't so capricious, he's like a shower of rain, sometimes falling here and sometimes falling there."

"Unfaithful?"

"He thinks I don't know about his exploits. But I get to hear all about him from Scarlet Nightshade. She, at least, is a true friend."

"Does he know that you love him?"

"I doubt it. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that he's left behind him one more heart broken like in the old verses. He's not to come here again, I've told him that. But I still want to help him, Fischermädchen, I don't want him to get hurt. He's making tracks for High Country, he's often said that that's where he'd go if things got to hot for him around here. Do you think he'll make it?"

"Not a hope in hell. But if I can get to him before Befehlnotstand and the Heartless Legions I will at least be able to persuade him to give himself up to Rausman and his Counsellors and that will stand in his favour at his trial."

"Thank you for helping us, Fischermädchen. I was not sure of you at first and I'm sorry."

"Caress, and this is confidential, there is talk that this will lead to war. No one will be safe. Especially not those who have been close to Gwern Excuses. I suggest that you and the boy, Calonnog isn't it, should come under my wing here where you know you will both be safe. What do you say?"

"War? Hot war? Not over something so trivial? It was an accident, even you said that. What do they want from us?"

"You will come then?"

"I'll stay here. I'll stay until I know that Gwern is safe."

"I'm disappointed. I had thought you had more sense."

"Scarlet Nightshade is staying. She won't move, says she. Calonnog and I will be fine here at Tyn Coed thank you."

"You're an obstinate girl. But remember what I said, Caress, my offer to protect you still holds good. But if you insist on holing up in that dank valley, that's up to you. I'm sure Scarlet Nightshade will look after you."

The line clicked and closed for the last time leaving me staring into space with your voice still ringing in my ears. I was thinking of Scarlet Nightshade's lies and of Fischermädchen's deception. Slowly I began to come to, realising that I was stiff all over, and thinking about you saying that you loved me and knowing how I loved you too and seeing for the first time how life itself had come between us keeping us apart like two magnets pushing one another to one side.

"That's all," said Dai Takes Eggs nonchalantly through my dreams. He yawned loudly and added, "the bottle's empty and the night is gone. You've heard it all now, Gwern. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to rescue her from the clutches of that poisonous

Scarlet Nightshade and Fischermädchen. That's what I'm going to do, Takes Eggs, I don't care how long it takes."

"We have to go first to all the countries of the Alliance," reminded Pilgrim over his shoulder as he took the tape from the jaws of the machine.

"I know, I know. You don't have to remind me."

"What's this?" asked Dai Takes Eggs.

"Its secret," I said. "But we have to persuade the alliance countries to join forces with High Country before hot war breaks out."

"Why on earth would they send you? If that smelly Saffron Tinker going with you? The three fruitless ones, that's what they should call you. I hope you have fun."

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere, Dai Takes Eggs, just 'cause you're jealous that you're not coming," I said. "By Jove though, we're to visit all sorts of exotic places, every country under the sun, almost. Hey, Pilgrim, did you remember to pack the suntan lotion? You did? Good." I began to do my best to make Dai Takes Eggs's mouth water and to make him envious of us by telling him all about our proposed trip to the Earth Vineyard where we were to meet Duke Waronket Kalz, and then onwards to the Great Vineyard to the court of General Bol (we were to remember to take with us exquisite delicacies as presents for him), after which we were to proceed to Wide Island where we were to insist upon an audience with the renowned Gonerin Borlat their prince and again after that onwards, this time by air, far far away to Bharatistan to arrange an audience with the Emperor Bara Hathi (this is where the suntan lotion would be useful, also the sunglasses and an umbrella too just in case). This is how I boasted about our proposed journey, little thinking in fact that I could actually pull it off. Not with two complete imbeciles for assistants, Pilgrim and Saffron Tinker, the latter as I now remembered still stinking in his bed where we had left him in Leather Belly's attic with the rainwater dripping down upon him from the rafters and soaking his beard while he slept.

So much for all that, it was time for him to go, said Dai Takes Eggs. He was not supposed to be here in the first place. I sent Pilgrim to fetch Saffron Tinker before anyone else woke up. We bade one another farewell there and then in the early light of day, Dai Takes Eggs in the costume of a Moral Standards Inspector setting off in one direction and Saffron Tinker, Pilgrim and myself riding out towards the other side of town. It was only much later, upon our eventual return, that I had an opportunity to note what happened to us on our journey because Faithful Night had forbidden me to take my mobile processor with me. I'm sure he thought that we'd get caught, but we didn't, and here, much to my surprise, I find myself at my little desk under the window of our room tapping the details into my machine.

We only arrived back the night before last and although it was late and we were dog tired we didn't stop until we reached our final destination. Our mission would not be over until our report was delivered to Faithful Night, servant of Answer Keeper in the depths of High Country's Lower Level. A new moon was hanging from the bright stars as we urged our mules forwards past the great oak door in the cliffside onwards towards the summit. We had wandered distant lands and roamed the far countries all but unfortunately even seasoned travellers like us could not negotiate the rough paths to Faithful Night's door without a full moon. I sent Pilgrim back to Stone Town to get torches, which he obtained from Grind Underfoot's storehouse, and it was only then that we were able to find the entrance to the deep stairway.

We tied the mules to some spindly bushes on the summit before descending torch in hand the stone steps to the Lower Level. The deeper we descended the weaker became the light of the torches until all that remained were three little green specks like the light of three glow worms in the darkness and soon enough even these specks were consumed by the velvet blackness.

"Welcome back," said Faithful Night's voice quietly in my ear when once again we stood surrounded by the dark empty space which he called home. "What news my long lost friends?"

"Trials and tribulations, troubles," blurted out Saffron Tinker raising his voice as he spoke. "Misfortune, pain, sorrow oh, Gosh, sir, these two were indeed fruitless, oh yes, little help to me indeed and she too was in my head all the time contradicting me and cursing me, I'm telling you, if a man could only be allowed peace to draw breath, hell's teeth it's come to something when..."

"That's enough, Saffron Tinker," commanded the voice. "When I shall require your opinion I shall ask for it. In the meantime, Gwern, accord me your report, concisely and to the point."

"May I ask something at this juncture?" asked Pilgrim hopefully.

"No, you may not," I told him but he asked anyway.

"What do you mean by 'accord'? Is it a special word?"

"Shut up!" said Faithful Night, "or I'll freeze the very tongue in your head. I'll do the same for you, too, Saffron Tinker, if you both don't stop interrupting your leader in his report. Gwern...?"

"At once, Faithful Night, sir," I replied, scratching my chin and feeling cheated that Faithful Night had not allowed me the use of my mobile processor to record the journey. "Well, sir, we have in general terms accomplished most of what you told us to do, I think, sir. We have slithered like vipers through the lands of the Alliance in the guise of war envoys and being under your patronage, which was a big help, we were able to overcome most obstacles that might otherwise have thwarted our mission. The first place we reached was Earth Vineyard south across the sea. That's where we met Duke Waronket Kalz and his two henchmen, Mewdal Bemdez and Revrad Bemnoz. Don't they have fine houses in Earth Vineyard? We had been nosing around not wanting to draw attention to ourselves when we met the itinerant Stoty Vragoo and it was he who pointed us in the right direction.

"Come zis vey," he said and so we followed him. Stoty Vragoo can gain admission to every secret fastness in the kingdom and he said to us, "Be as wagabonds viz me. Ve vill soon be made velcom by Waronket Kalz." We were soon to discover that Waronket Kalz knows little but what he does know he knows it well.

"Come sit at ze table," said Waronket Kalz to the four of us. "A glass each for the bread seekers. And a two pound loaf for each of zem and meat and earth apples as much as they can eat! Vell, vanderers, do you know there are tales told about your kind coming from afar to the palace of the Duke like this. Al Lostig from Ploureos and Packet Omp from Gwitalneblec'h, they had both lost their way. You should hear the tale. We have not heard of anyone like them until this day and therefore velcome and one hundred velcomes to you to Earth Wineyard. Come, Inan Alter cup bearer, let the cider flow, uncork the wine that our guests may drink in liberal and generous measure!"

"We appreciate the welcome," I rejoined in an appropriately formal syntax. "I won't deny that we're thirsty." And that is how the evening was spent, carousing and feasting and making merry. Having served the feast the duke's daughter came forward to introduce herself, a comely smiling maiden of fair countenance.

"Imer Vailable," she said with a curtsy to Pilgrim.

"Well I'm not, sorry, no indeed," said the bone head beginning to make up excuses that he had a headache after all the wine and cider and then Saffron Tinker started up chiding against the looseness of morals in contemporary society so I took Inan Alter aside and we repaired to her chambers at the top of the highest tower of the palace. There we spent a most agreeable night sipping wine and making polite conversation and doing the things that are traditionally done in such situations.

The next day, around mid morning, who should I find on entering the kitchen but Saffron Tinker snoring sound asleep on the kitchen table and Pilgrim stalking around in a huge sulk because I had stolen his girlfriend! What in all honesty is one to make of such a fellow? And where was Duke Waronket Kalz? He was with his henchmen, Revrad Bemnoz and Mewdal Bemdez still drawing corks from old vintages and singing about the triumphs of his tribe before Rausman the Great and Befehlnotstand and his Heartless Bodies put paid to their antics.

"Duke Waronket Kalz, friend, mentor," I said in the grave voice that I use in my official capacity as war envoy. "I find it intriguing that you should mention the Exile States for that is why we are here....no, do not be afraid, we are not Heartless Bodies but war envoys sent from the High Country to convey to you as our allies the news of a great wave of rearmament and mobilisation on our borders and here under official seal direct from the high authority of Faithful Night is what you have to do. Unite with us to turn back this tide and on the hearths of Earth Vineyard and in her halls it will be the legends of your exploits that will echo down the ages and not the exploits of some two faced bums like Al Lostig and Packed Omp!"

"What on earth do you mean?" stuttered Waronket Kalz sobering up immediately. "What can we do against so many when we are so small? Who will stand by us in our hour of need? No, I'm afraid that..."

"Duke Waronket Kalz, we have with us already High Country, the Swarthy Cavedwarves and the Wire Bandits not to mention Lowland, Great Vineyard, Long Island and Bharatistan."

"Ha! So you come to us last of all! Well no one shall call Earth Vineyard a country of cowards! Is not our blood as red as the rest? We will be there!"

"I never doubted that you would, sir."

Having bade farewell to Duke Waronket Kalz and his court we went forth to try our luck in the Great Vineyard. It was Saffron Tinker who made a hash of things for us there, it was by the skin of our teeth that we didn't lose the contract. As you know, Faithful Night, sir, he is a native of that country, but having wandered the backroads of this world so long he could actually hardly even remember his mother tongue at first."

"This boy is a liar and a devil in a man's skin making mischief again and again and..."

"One more word, Saffron Tinker," snapped Faithful Night and we heard Saffron Tinker's jaws snap to like a mousetrap closing.

"Well, anyway," I continued, "the roads in Great Vineyard are very long and we had our share of walking, I can tell you. It took us ages to reach Vineyard Island where the Presidents's headquarters are located. How much closer to our goal where we, I ask you? That place is like an ants' nest, no exaggeration. Everyone darting from one place to another and nobody willing to pause for breath to listen to us asking directions, they didn't even seem to notice us, sir. And didn't Saffron Tinker have to start up his nonsense calling them names and shouting obscenities, but at the top of his voice and what's worse, in their own language and it was touch and go that they didn't cut off our heads because of him, however that is another story. Suffice it to say that eventually we were dragged before General Bol in the high chambers where he holds court.

"Well tell him what we are doing here, Saffron Tinker," I demanded of him and do you know what he said?

"Good day to you all and I also am fed up of this too," he said. "Don't you know war is about to break and everyone is diving for cover and look at you wolfing down foie gras and vintage claret and troubling your heads with stupid grammatical rules, shame on you, you materialistic turkeys, I'd rather wander alone an eccentric Tinker with nothing between my ears save what came in through them to start with, so are you with us or aren't you, you obese wretches?"

"What's this?" cried General Bol tearing the napkin from his collar and pushing aside his table. "What's this bread and wine nonsense of yours, lard heads!"

I explained as best I could in my broken Great Vineyardish, noticing General Bol's nostrils rising higher and higher with every mispronounced syllable that fell from my lips.

"Est bian," he said finally having heard of the welcome we had received in the Earth Vineyard and called Oos Weej his servant to show us to our lodgings.

First class lodgings they were too. Drapes of silk and matching silk wallpaper, they had a pis-en-lit pattern all over them and I was worried what effect this might have on Pilgrim. I shouldn't have worried, the boy didn't notice. We had a bedroom each off a spacious drawing room, a four poster bed in each room with a bottle of fine spirits the colour of sunlight through spring leaves by the side of each bed.

"What shall we do next?" asked Pilgrim but before I could tell him there came a knock on the door and in came three of the prettiest girls you ever did see.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said the tall black haired blue eyed one holding her handkerchief to her nose. I couldn't blame her, Saffron Tinker never seems to wash himself. They got used to it after a while.

"You have the wrong room, girls," said Pilgrim in his innocent way. I didn't bother to translate for them.

"On the game, are you, you brazen hussies?" shouted Saffron Tinker. He didn't open his mouth again that night.

"Go to bed, Pilgrim," I said. "We'll fetch a doctor for Saffron Tinker in a minute."

"I can't stand the sight of blood," said the tall black haired blue eyed one. "Let me introduce ourselves. I am Iliona de Mond, this is Silty Play and here is Elle Belle. How best can we entertain you?"

"Forget the formal speak, honey," I said once Pilgrim had gone to his room. Saffron Tinker was still lying on his back in a coma with his tongue hanging out. Perhaps I did hit him a bit too hard, but he's used to it. You're a busy man, Faithful Night, sir, so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say that we found ways to make the time pass until morning and when it was day and the three of them were getting dressed I told them to ask for breakfast to be sent up to us to our room on their way out.

The breakfast, when it arrived, was very disappointing. A stale croissant and a tiny cup of black coffee, hardly enough to drown a flea. However General Bol was in high spirits when we got downstairs.

"Good day to you," he said brightly. "Overnight I had an opportunity to mull over a little dish of quail in truffle sauce and having spoken over the wires with Waronket Kalz I am prepared to support and unite with the allied forces on condition that Great Vineyardish shall be the official language of this historic repulse of... ehm, by the way, I didn't catch who we would be repulsing...?"

"My liege, you probably should not have discussed such matters over the wires," I pointed out. "No doubt the cat is now well out of the bag."

"Do not worry, my boy, Waronket Kalz and I understand one another well enough but the Seen and Heard do not understand either of us." That is what he said, Faithful Night, sir...

"He's a silly devil if ever I saw one," shouted Saffron Tinker wildly, "no one at all understands a word he says and nobody wants to listen to his blathering, all he does from morning to night is stoke up his fat belly and..."

"This is your last warning, Saffron Tinker," said Faithful Night as sharp as ice; a cold blast sweep over us from the direction of his voice.

"Well, sir," I went on, "this is how it was after that. We were given a lift by Vadonc Andouie, the transport minister, to the city gates and on we went from there in the direction of Wide Island."

"Having reached the coast we took the ferry across the sea. Once on board we changed into the grand silk suits that we had found in General Bol's wardrobe. I must admit we did look very fine, we were even invited by the Captain to dine with him at the top table with all the marine dignitaries. Pilgrim shamed us by being sick under the table and spoiling a pair of calf skin shoes that the captain was wearing. We had locked up Saffron Tinker in our cabin and when I got Pilgrim back to put him to bed I found that Saffron Tinker had behaved very badly as well, he had apparently gone completely off his head and had tried to light a fire to dry out the water he saw outside his port hole thinking that he had caused it all when he wetted his bed. I was thoroughly relieved when at last we docked by the quayside at Wide Island. Rather than waste a minute of our time I immediately asked of a little chap who we met on the quay whether he knew how we might find the Prince.

"Sure but that's me," he exclaimed dancing up and down and throwing out his legs as if he wanted to get rid of them. "Come wet your lips, am I not choking for a pint? Sure, and you'll be the same way no doubt?"

"Yes," said Saffron Tinker, his eyes rolling strangely.

"No," said I.

"Yes and no," faltered Pilgrim.

Be that as it may, the little chap on the quay turned out to be Castoo Hein and not the Prince at all; he had only wanted to please us, he said, seeing as how we'd come such a long way. "Ach, but I'll take you to him, right enough," he added with a wink and we followed him, not being accustomed to their ways.

We followed him to the public house of Bas le Tart where we found the place to be thick with smoke and packed full of guzzlers knocking back pint after pint of dark porter even though it was only six in the morning and the dawn mist was still nibbling the corners of the streets outside.

"Tell us a song, Bida Host Singer!" cried Castoo Hein clapping on the shoulder an aged sage in the corner. "For our noble visitors of fine vestment who honour us with their presence on this splendid morning. Tell it, and tell it well!" Every head in the room turned to gaze upon us and shortly turned back to gaze again upon their pints. Bida Host Singer sang his song, an interminable ballad whose pure notes were drowned by the shouting of the Wide Islanders at each others throats to best put the world to rights.

"And where would you three be from then?" asked a man wearing a cloth cap and who had a nose like a tuck-knife in the middle of his face. "You are not Heartless Bodies, God bless you."

"Indeed we are not," confirmed Pilgrim. "We can sing!"

"From High Country," I explained not wishing to say too much about our mission. However I am afraid that the liberal measures of water of life I had imbibed had loosened my tongue somewhat. "We are here to speak with the Prince!" I boasted.

"Gonerin Borlat?" asked the man. "Well as sure as my name's Keta Ra Gut, the same man will be here on the dot at seven this very morning for you. Sure, he comes here at seven every morning on his way to the House of Assembly. Wait that you may see. Are you for another one, my friends, come..."

By the time Prince Gonerin Borlat arrived at seven Saffron Tinker had begun to misbehave again, and this one here, Pilgrim, he had started to make up all sorts of stories which he was telling to the brothers Taren Show and Machen Show, saying that he too was originally from Wide Island and was equal to the best of them in downing fine spirits. Meanwhile I was too intoxicated to cut across him.

Apparently, all Gonerin Borlat had to do was put one foot over the threshold and the whole house came to a standstill, immediately quiet as the grave, as Bas le Tart raised a pin between finger and thumb and let it drop to the floor emitting a tiny pathetic little tinkle. The threshold ceremony over, everyone resumed their roaring shouting match as Gonerin Borlat tried to fight his way thought he packed bodies to the bar.

"Gentlefolk to see you, Prince," said Bas le Tart drawing a slow pint of white and black for him and marking a cross on the slate above the till.

"Have they arranged an appointment at all?"

"I doubt it."

"Sure, then that's fine, where are they?"

"By your elbow, friend Prince, here they are. Gwern Excuses, Saffron Tinker the Mad and Pilgrim, come from High Country all the way to our fair Wide Island just to see you, if 'tis true for you."

"God to you and a hundred thousand welcomes," said Prince Gonerin Borlat quaffing a draught of his pint. "What tidings?"

I explained as best I could what with Pilgrim butting in every minute boasting of his Wide Island ancestry and interrupting me. A wise man is Gonerin Borlat, oh indeed he is. Mid morning saw me only half way through my communiqué therefore he sent forth Grow Maggot the Agricultural Minister to postpone the morning debate in the House of Assembly. By mid afternoon he had also sent forth Nabee Magafoom from Slieve Garoo to declare an international amnesty for the under aged.

"Let me introdush Saffron Tinker to shomone special," he declared at around four o'clock as the afternoon began to fade and as a towering redheaded woman in a green dress shoved everyone out of her way and planted herself on a stool and her elbow on the bar. "Shaffron Tinker... I want to introdush my shishter, Tamming Ralat... Tamming Ralat, I want you to meet my friend Shaffron Tinker from High Country, war envoy to Faithful Night no less..."

Please understand, Faithful Night, sir, we would have been back ages ago if it had not been for that. Well, there's no point crying after the milk, and Saffron Tinker is much better now he has a fine wife in Tamming Ralat, she really is a consolation to him in his dotage. But believe me, sir, I had no idea that the marriage feast would last a fortnight...

The long and the short of it is that the happy couple have arranged to rent over the Winter a little summer cottage called Bwlch where they intend spending their honeymoon. That is, of course, once he has completed his service to you, isn't it sir, and if he gets back his sanity. However that would appear to be a big if to start off with.

Well, now, of course Gonerin Borlat agreed at once that he was with us, sir. We got on famously with him. He took us to stay with him and Pilgrim used to wash the dishes while Saffron Tinker carried on with Tamming Ralat and while Gonerin Borlat and I pored over various strategies in the company of a bottle of fifteen year old water of life, but listen to me, sir, that is how you have to do business in Wide Island, sir, and anyone who tells you that three weeks is a long time to close a bargain with Gonerin Borlat, well, sir, he is talking through his hat."

"May I say something now, please?" asked Pilgrim taking advantage of the pause.

"Is it relevant?" demanded the voice through the blackness.

"Well, not exactly, but..."

"Be quiet then and shut up," said the voice. "So that was how it went in Wide Island. And the last of the alliance countries, Bharatistan, how fared you there, Gwern?"

"Yes, well, having eventually obtained the official seal of Wide Island's House of Assembly and having then bade farewell to Gonerin Borlat there was nothing for it but to make for the airport where we were to seek space on the Over Ocean. It was Gonerin Borlat's contacts that ensured us a seat on it in spite of the waitlist and in spite of cutbacks. He had also furnished us with undercover agents' papers and had disguised us as missionaries and no one dared stand in our way, not even the airport taxi drivers.

"I have heard this is a cold, cold country," said Saffron Tinker wrapping his fur coat tightly about him as we disembarked from the aeroplane into the tunnel.

"Everyone to his own opinion," I retorted, rolling up my cotton shirt sleeves and taking out a pair of sunglasses from my purse.

"I never heard a word about the place," commented Pilgrim in his safari shorts and his sandals and his huge bear skin fur hat. "But I have always wanted to come here except that it was too far to walk."

Apparently Saffron Tinker was correct. As we dragged our luggage from the conveyor belt the goose flesh stood out on my arms and on Pilgrim's legs much to Saffron Tinker's satisfaction in his warm fur coat. However the minute the glass sliding doors opened to the street it was like walking into Dowlais furnace and you should have seen Saffron Tinker stripping off quicker than the ladies from the Red Windmill in Great Vineyard.

I asked the taxi walle would be take us to the Emperor Bara Hathi but all he did was grin widely and roll his head like a wooden doll.

"My name is Mera Desh," he said. "You are wanting see Sunder Lerki memorial in Sunder Nagar, my friends, because that is where I am taking you. Everybody is going to see Sunder Lerki memorial built by Shah Kitna Paisa her husband to attracting visitors to the place."

"No, we do not," I said.

"Oh, yes, sabji, tourists are all liking to see Sunder Lerki memorial built by Shah Kitna Paisa her husband to draw tourists to the place."

"Stop the car!" I exclaimed getting annoyed. "We are not tourists!"

"You are wanting bhang, Sabji! Come, we are going to the Paan Walle on Pansh Myrtli corner under the shade of the pomegranate tree. He is having the best!"

"We are here to see Emperor Bara Hathi," I said peevishly, "and if you don't take us to him you won't get paid!"

"Aatchaa, Sabji, fine, sir, why are you not saying before?" and he took us there without further ado.

We were led by the chawkadar Patyr Neheehyr doorman in his splendid red and gold turban into a dark hallway after the glare of the sun, and up a flight of narrow twisting stairs, so narrow you had to squeeze up it sideways on. At last we reached a dusty corridor along which numbered doors led into offices and chambers.

"Office two four seven, enquiries," said Patyr Neheehyr raising a palm to his forehead in salute.

"Thanks," we said but he didn't move, he kept on standing to attention rolling his head every so slightly.

We gave him three units for his trouble and went on into the office where we found a crowd of people waiting their turn, some sitting, some jostling at the counter and others cross legged in the middle of the room sharing a bite of lunch.

We managed at last to register our presence; the official Meranam Oot-hey opened up a file for us which he dated and stamped. "You are to be filling this form also for me in triplicate and returning pink copy to me," he advised.

"Where is General Certificate of Preferences?" he asked once we had fought our way back to his counter clutching the pink copy.

I sent Pilgrim across the city in a cycle rickshaw to obtain the certificate and by the time he got back the petitioners were already unrolling their blankets and preparing for bed.

"Come back after some time," said Meranam Oot-hey.

"What do you mean?" I asked with a sinking feeling. "How much time, official, sir?"

"Tomorrow, day after, day after that," he said dismissively rolling his head and turning us away with a lazy gesture of the hand.

"We are here on official business from High Country," I said angrily. "You will have to answer to Emperor Bara Hathi for keeping us waiting like this."

"What to do?" He rolled his head slightly further from side to side. "The two brothers Garam Panni and Tanda Panni from Rajpur, they were coming day and night for forty years and how much better were they for their trouble? They were coming to petition Emperor Double Roti regarding the right to extract water in Mera Gown and by the time they were taken through to see him he was long since cremated and his son Bara Hathi was Emperor in his place with no knowledge of the case and with the file long since lost like all the rest and so they had to return home empty handed in the end."

"Well, we don't have forty years to spare," I exclaimed looking him straight in the eye. "Just tell me whose palm is to be greased!"

"When are you wishing to see him, Sabji?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Aatchaa, Sabji," and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You are giving me one hundred units deposit and then you must be going with Chawkadar Patyr Neheehyr to Parana Likana Letterwriter on Bodmarsh Lerki Square and you are giving him this note together with two hundred more units and everything is being arranged accordingly for nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Aatchaa?"

"We can't afford that," I lied. "You can have fifty units now and I'll give Parana Likana Letterwriter another hundred and we'll settle for ten o'clock. Ok?"

He started to roll his head around again adopting a mournful expression. "Sabji, inflation is rife in Great Bharatistan. Give ten per cent more, Sabji, and come by ten thirty and everything is being arranged."

"Bahood aatchaa," I agreed and we shook hands.

The Emperor Bara Hathi is a huge big man with a great black beard filling his face and a tall golden turban on his head and a long thin sword in its golden jewel encrusted scabbard lying on his desk by the telephone. He must have his own private staircase, or perhaps he does not go out. He picked up our file, dusted it off and said, "Chai walle, tea for our guests."

"Bara Hathi-ji, Emperor of Sun and Earth and Great Bharatistan, a message from the Answer Keeper!" I announced after we had been given a glass each of sweet milky tea. "The Heartless Bodies are massing on our borders and the Answer Keeper would like to know will you join forces with us that your legions may stand behind us to push back the onslaught of the Exile States?"

"Oh, it was so fine here when the Exile States used to run our affairs," exclaimed Bara Hathi, a teardrop coming to his barbarous eye. "So wonderful the discipline of the Heartless Bodies. There is no orderliness to be had anywhere nowadays and no respect for anything or anybody. Are the trains running on time? They are not. Are the days and nights keeping to their schedules? They are not. Is there one man left who is capable of preparing a successful white sauce? There is not! They can come this very day! The Heartless Bodies, Rausman and his Counsellors, they can all come and welcome, only that they bring with them a cook. It would be so much less of hassle for me to have them running this show for me."

"Oh brave Bara Hathi, Oh Emperor of the Universe, O Mighty Overlord, won't it rather look as if you're a yellow bellied coward who want's to chicken out of his obligations?"

"You are thinking so? Hmmmm... listen, I will do one thing. Rather than to lose face I will send what I am sparing from my army plus six circus elephants, this I am sure will be keeping Answer Keeper happy. In truth for you, though, I have no faith in them as fighters!"

"Thanks, Bara Hathi-ji," said the three of us and away we went.

"You seem to have carried out your duties fairly well," said Faithful Night's voice, "and although you have not told me everything about the journey, your story will do for now. By your side, Gwern, you will find your mobile processor. Go now and prepare for war. Gwern, you are to develop your craft as a software engineer under Raven Dream, Commander of the Air Peaceforce; you, Pilgrim, had better go with him as an apprentice. Be in the Air Caves by seven. You, Saffron Tinker, are to complete your period of service minding the army's mules on the Moor of the Home of Graves. Any questions?"

"None, sir," I replied.

"Yes, one," said Pilgrim. "What is that great oak door at the foot of the granite cliff? It leads nowhere."

"That's right, Pilgrim," said the voice patiently. "It leads nowhere unless it pleases; the Answer Keeper is waiting for the one that may come and open it and be accepted by it that the pure light may flood through it into the gloomy depths of the Lower Level. And the one for whom it opens shall be known as the Answer Keeper' true successor who will lead us to triumph and who will sit upon the Answer Keeper' right hand."

"Would that not be rather uncomfortable?"

"Do you have any questions, Saffron Tinker," asked Faithful Night ignoring the simpleton.

"I have one question only," said Saffron Tinker. "Is it due to my maturity of years or else is it due to the sharpness of my eyesight that I have been promoted to the high office of Guardian of Answer Keeper' Mules rather than having to go off to some cave as an apprentice flyer? And by the way, when can I go back to Tamming Ralat at Bwlch?"

"That is not only one question," said Faithful Night.

"I never claimed to be good at counting."

"Well to answer you, there were other considerations regarding your 'promotion', and you may go to Bwlch when you have completed your service to High Country. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a report to prepare. Farewell, intended heroes, and good bye."

Prince Grind Underfoot is a hard master for those under his thumb but now that we were answerable only to Faithful Night and Raven Dream we didn't have to worry any more about the spiteful midget. He would get his orders from the Lower Level through the Green Screen and these he would execute to the letter and woe betide anyone that got in his way, he would have his guts for garters that very afternoon. By the end of the first week of the declaration of war Grind Underfoot had already filled the town lockup to overflowing with soldiers that had transgressed him in some way or other.

I can well remember private Black Crow from the Village of Ashes being given three days in the punishment block without heat or blankets because he had a button missing from his shirt. In fact it was only Summer Nightshade Water Maiden kept him alive when she slipped him a shirt, late one night, through the roof grating of his cell.

Then again, I recall the day the new wire codes arrived, there would be no chance the Heartless Bodies would ever decipher them this time, I thought, after all I did know about them having had a hand in the software development stage, well, the day the new codes arrived Kills Two Birds from Frontier Province was given a month's hard drubbing under the fists of the cavedwarves for daring to suggest High Country was now invincible. "Just remember that no one is bloody invincible!" shouted Grind Underfoot after him as he was being dragged away.

"That's right!" said Pilgrim. "And everybody's got to serve somebody!"

"What did you say, you loathsome maggot?" screamed Grind Underfoot pointing a bony finger at Pilgrim. "I will make you regret you said that, you offensive little irrelevance!"

"Don't speak to my deputy like that," I said, "or you'll answer to Faithful Night about it."

"You again!" he spluttered grinding his teeth in a hissing fury. "When this war is over, boy...!"

"Oh, and by the way, Grind Underfoot, concerning those units you suggested we owed you, we gave them to Raven Dream to buy spare parts for the war effort, I'm sure you agree we did the right thing. And before I forget, Pilgrim would like his special stones back now, please. You know, the ones you borrowed from him. Otherwise I'll tell Faithful Night that you stole them."

Grind Underfoot's face went from red to purple to white as he sat on his throne crushing a golden cushion in his fists until the feathers flew like snow. But Pilgrim got his stones back; he stood there smiling as he counting them carefully one by one into his sack.

"Gosh, thanks, Gwern," he said. "No one before has been so kind to me."

"Well you must have had it pretty rough, then, that's all I can say. Now, enough of your nonsense and lets go find Saffron Tinker before we leave for the Exile States."

It didn't take us long to find Saffron Tinker, he was in his hut above the village, smoking his pipe and keeping an eye on the mules that grazed all over the hillsides. With the sun gilding the reeds and reddening the bracken, with the birds chirping from the rusty woods, and with Stone Town down below like a newly blasted fall of quarry rocks with the dust still rising from the fissures, I thought Saffron Tinker had it pretty good up there having only to sit in his shepherd's hut smoking his pipe and gobbing into the fire, occasionally keeping half an eye on his mules through the open door. It must have done him some good, too, being up there daydreaming all alone for so long, it seemed to have relieved some of the tension in his head, he seemed to have regained some of his senses.

"Come in, friends, take a pew," he announced as we darkened his doorway. "Explain to me who you are and whether you take sugar."

"We've come to bid you farewell for the time being," I explained. "Pilgrim and I are flying tonight with the first raid on the Exile States."

"Mules not good enough for you anymore, is that it? And what do you know about flying, you untruthful wretch? And why do you haul poor innocent Pilgrim after you? Oh, the two of you are enough to drive me mad! I don't know! I don't know!"

"Don't get exited now, Saffron Tinker," I said soothingly. "I'm an old hand at playing the Virtual Reality Flying Game at All Night Café, you know, and we've also had lessons from Raven Dream, Air Marshal of Answer Keeper' Air Peaceforce. He has taught us all he knows about the business, and anyway, these new systems are childsplay compared to the old systems I'm used to working with."

"And if Gwern is going, I'm going too!" piped up Pilgrim defiantly. "He'll look after me, oh yes he will, better than you ever did you old buffoon, you've only ever been cross and horrible to me and I..."

"Oh, listen to the monkey jabbering, listen to the snake that bites the hand, oh wicked boy, I'll soon show you what's what..."

"That's enough, both of you!" I shouted as the foam started to issue from between his teeth. I stood between them trying to fish Pilgrim from under the table where he had crawled. "Stop it, Saffron Tinker! And don't you start winding him up either, Pilgrim, look how you've maddened him now! We'd better go. Thanks for the tea..."

"Yes, go! That's it, go, leave me here on my own then! I don't care. Leave me here, you beasts, alone on my mountain with no one but the wind for company months one end and then you come for five minutes and go to you're deaths in the Exile States and what am I to do then, I wonder? But you don't care, do you? You and your grand uniforms and your peaked caps and your stripes and your style, how much better will you be for all your pomp when you're in the bottom of a ditch with crows pecking at your eyes and ngwaa ngwaa ngwaa aaa nngg..."

We could hear his voice shouting under the flecked stars opening in the sky above but the wind took his words, thank God, and spat them out scornfully against the high crags. When I turned to look back all I could see was a dark spot by the hut darting back and forth like a spider sewing up his prey. I pulled my cap down hard on my head and with Pilgrim following struck out back towards Stone Town.

We were to be at the air caves by eight. Having entered our network codes into the touchpad outside the slate slab of a doorway swung noiselessly aside and we stepped into the preparation chamber. The other crews were already there, pair by pair, crowding around the Green Screens for any last minute details.

"How's it going, lads?" called Hugh New Pilot raising his head from his screen for a moment. "Ready to whip some ass?"

"The birch rod is all ready for them," I called back. Just then Raven Dream strode into the chamber to say a few words before we climbed into our machines. I'm afraid I didn't listen much to his speech because I had heard it all before, he always goes on and on about his exploits in the first war and about his portrait in the mural in Grind Underfoot's hall, depicting him putting paid to several Heartless Bodies all at once; and wasn't his portrait larger by far than that of anyone else on the wall? And wasn't it just fine for young peace pilots like us to go get ourselves killed with no trouble at all without pausing to consider how much trouble the pilots of his day had to go to get themselves annihilated, no indeed it was not like the old days. And those guards of Grind Underfoot's, no metal at all, might as well be without them. No, it was a fact, without him, Raven Dream, it would be all over with High Country. Without him and his peace pilots High Country would be a pile of rubble and Faithful Night would be singing for his supper and so on and so forth ad infinitum. I was on tenterhooks wanting to get moving and eager to be allowed to climb into my glove of a cockpit before anyone noticed my shaking hands. Eventually he shut his trap and came amongst us shaking hands, clapping a hand on our shoulders and wishing us good luck each in turn; I noticed the sweet smell of life water on his breath as he clasped me to his breast. Finally we were actually allowed to get on with the job in hand. Pilgrim and I went to our peace machine and quickly checked her over, testing the jet stream indicators, adjusting the blades, making sure all circuits were open. Then, up into the cockpit with us, the masks and helmets on our heads and thumbs up to the crews in their machines lined up to right and left of us. Following my training I powered up to the tenth level as the air gates opened in front of us revealing a diamond sky. One by one the heavy bellied machines in front of us began rolling towards the take off line, one by one they left the group, their short wings springing out on either side, and on the green light powering up to the top and roaring down the line as the heat of their jets warmed us through the screens and the glare made us blink through our visors. Seconds later there would be nothing left of them but a tiny red light like a burnt out shooting star fading into nothing amongst the stars.

"Appliance seven two one seven, Gwern Excuses, thirty seconds over." The coordinator's voice broke through my distant thoughts. "Line thirty, position for take off."

"Pilgrim," I commanded, "set the power compass to zero nought zero and confirm."

"Confirmed."

I threw the lock switch to release the wheels and we slowly rolled down along line thirty towards the air gates.

"Five, four, three, two, one, hit it!" said the coordinator. The engines roared as I locked the controls for take off and there we were pressed by an unseen into our seats as if by an unseen hand as the outside dissolved into strands and vanished behind us leaving only the night opening like a flower around us and the nose of our machine straining forwards towards the stars.

All the while the coordinator's voice kept up a commentary in our helmets, directing the fleet and confirming cross-references. Having drawn in our wheels into the machine's sleek underbelly all we had to do was sit and wait, all the while keeping a check upon the red and green buttons of light flashing on the air screen in front of me confirming that all was in order and going like clockwork.

"Appliance seven two one seven, confirm location," said the coordinator. I turned to Pilgrim.

"Ten over a hundred, seven seven eight south south east at three thousand units," said Pilgrim reading off his power compass.

"Terminating voice contact," said the coordinator. "Dump on them, lads and safe home!" and we were all on our own with only the air screens to show us where we were within the fleet formation.

"Good lad," I said to Pilgrim. "You've learnt your lessons well."

"Thanks," said he. "I'm not afraid, mind. I've got faith in you to bring us back home."

"Don't you worry about it. I'll buy you a slap up breakfast at Leather Belly's place tomorrow morning."

"There is one thing, though," said Pilgrim thoughtfully. "Gosh, these missiles won't half make a mess of the Exile States, won't they?"

"If we do our job properly, I guess they will, yes."

"And kill?"

"Military targets only, Pilgrim, nothing else."

"Yes, but..."

"Listen, Pilgrim, this is war so someone has to get killed presumably or it wouldn't be a war now would it?"

"They'll die without knowing who killed them and we'll have killed them not knowing who we killed."

"It could happen, Pilgrim old son. It would not be the first time."

We remained quiet for a long time after that as the machine thrust us farther and farther into the night and finally towards a narrow band of pink that was beginning to stain the clouds on the edge of the world down below us.

I concentrated on the screens to check that the programmes were running to schedule. The screen rant through the preliminary check list before arming the exit ports while at the same time beginning to turn the machine slowly downwards towards the pink clouds to the right of us as the air screen flashed up the penultimate screen: "Armed: Confirm".

I punched the confirmation into the keypad and waited for the screen to confirm back that the missiles were locked onto their targets.

"Missile One. Away." flashed the screen. I punched in the code and away it sailed in front of us, swerving to the left and then plunging into the clouds.

"Missile Two. Away." flashed the screen, this time it swerved away to our right.

As I watched the flight path of the missiles on the screens the familiar cross-wires moved together to form a cross over some sort of factory buildings which were coming into view and getting larger and larger until they filled the screen.

"Missile One. Confirm target," flashed the screen. I hit the red button as the two wires parted directly above the buildings and these seemed to implode and spew forth a ball of smoke like an egg yolk falling into a bowl of flour. Now on the other screen the two wires were already poised over a lake or reservoir of some kind and together they came to form a cross over the dam embankment.

"Missile two. Confirm target." I confirmed and watched as the screen zoomed in on the embankment where men the size of ants were running from their huts and scrambling hither and thither along the dam wall. In a second the dam burst and a great wall of water and beams and rocks swept everything in its path taking the ants along with it and the screen closed with the message: "Accomplished".

"Back home then, I suppose." I turned to Pilgrim as a dull weight began to settle on my stomach as I thought of the ants being swept away.

"Is it over?" asked Pilgrim opening his eyes. All I could see through his mask and his helmet were his frightened eyes.

"Set the power compass for home, Pilgrim," I said, hearing the weariness grate in my voice.

"Home? Where is that?" he asked.

"Don't you start," I exclaimed angrily. "A hell of a help you've been to me what with me trying to get a job done and all."

"That's not what you said last night."

"Well it's a new day today. And you're bloody hopeless. You lily livered pansy you."

All Pilgrim did was stare out his window without a reply so I did the same and we let the machine take us wherever it would. That was when I saw the little glowing ball rising from the clouds towards us and before I had a chance to activate the defence screen it had stuck fast to our right wing by my shoulder.

"Oh, my God," I said wildly punching buttons on the pad in front of me and then came the splintering crack which shook us to bits as I strained to see half my wing torn away with our second jet engine leaving us spiralling down through ragged broken clouds before hurtling into an open picture book of fields and woods and hills and beyond a red desert crushed by the sun as my head burst and my ears screamed and the world turned around my head it was all I could do to scream through the mike as I fought to raise a hand or a foot, "Hit the red button, Pilgrim, get out," while my stomach locked inside of me and through my seared eyes, through my red eyelids I saw snowflecked peaks glisten under a glinting sun and naked branches strewn with the raucous crows at Gelli Aur and the orchard trees all felled with their tangled twigs obstructing the cart track to Tyn Coed where the orange and brittle bracken filled the ditches and where the suffocating river struggled with rusting machinery and rotting sheep, their fleece unwinding in the current, their shell like teeth grimacing, their sockets open holes, and beyond, Tyn y Coed, the whitewashed walls now streaked with black soot, the roof burst open and the windows shattered, the hanging smell of damp smoke on the air and its colour bleeding on the wet washing still hanging on the line, the front door creaking on one hinge, no sign of life. I fell upon my knees and closed my eyes. Tight, tight, I closed my eyes to shut it out and turn and turn in a starless night longing only for your arms to close about me once again before...

But I got daylight bursting all around me as I hurtled spinning through whistling space and the rush and tearing of canvas and a snapping jolt and there I was swinging, sitting, slowly turning in my ejector seat gently descending in the shadow of mushroom like parachute hanging above. The first I saw were the red hills rising on my left so I guided the seat towards them using the direction buttons on the arms. It was lucky I did so too because I'm sure the Heartless Bodies were crawling around the other side of the hills where the machine went down, they were probably waiting for me at that very moment. There I was, alive, floating gently downwards with no-one shooting at me and thinking vaguely, "where's that Pilgrim go to? Oh, he'll turn up in a moment..." Then I noticed a weight pressing down on my lap and on examining found Pilgrim's sack tucked neatly under my seat belt. I hung my head and stared unblinking at the sack.

"Poor Pilgrim," I said out loud over and over again until I was half crazed by the sound of his name in my ears. All the while the ground was getting closer, the seat was drifting in the rising air currents and I had to concentrate on getting the unwieldy gadget landed and we hadn't even had a practice at base camp. Eventually we came down in a marsh which was soft at least, drat me, it wasn't us at all it was me alone. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't think at all, all I could think of was Pilgrim and his little collection of stones and about him being beaten by brutal Grind Underfoot and about how I tried to stand up for him once. I was shedding bitter tears as I thought of him now, broken limb from limb lying somewhere in a ditch with ants crawling all over him. "Why didn't you go as I told you, Pilgrim? I didn't ask you to press my button...Why?" As I looked around me beyond the swamp to the red foothills in front and to the boundless desert to the other side, and to the circling vultures which seemed to be gathering above me I thought, "What would you do in a place like this, Pilgrim?" And I thought of how he would answer and say, "Well, I'd be with you, Gwern," and I said aloud, "Yes, Pilgrim, you will be with me, and I'll carry your sack and I'll make them pay!" I unclipped myself from the seat and pushing it to one side, struggled through the swamp towards the distant hills on the other side.

I hope you don't mind if I miss out the bit about the journey from the swamp to the hills. It would take too long and my backup batteries are getting low. Suffice it to say that it took me several long hard weeks to get through. You can bet your life it did. I mean, there was I in the middle of the Exile States with a war apparently raging all around me. In fact I soon realised that the war didn't reach this far, I was actually in the peripheral zone where the desert gives way to the barren hills and they in turn give way to forested ranges where white water streams flow through gouged channels. I walked and walked. My feet were swollen like balloons and my legs covered with leech bites. They would drop from the branches at night and slurp up your blood as you slept without waking you at all. I don't know what kept me going, I suppose I was determined to live so that Pilgrim might not have died in vain. At long last I reached the hut of a hermit who lives in a hollow where the water flows clear from the channels and turns his old water wheel creaking and slow. I could jabber enough Exilese to conceal my Lowland accent and I made up some fibs which he seemed to believe and he gave me an egg on toast and also a set of peasant clothes in return for my flying suit, once gleaming, now rather the worst for wear. The hermit had not even heard of the war, bless him, and didn't know anything about High Country and I was made very welcome by him and his cat, Panger Bán.

He turned out to be a bit of a preacher, making me stay up late into the night listening to his rantings.

"Thou art a great sinner!" he pronounced, jabbing a gnarled finger into my chest.

"I know, I know, don't rub salt in the wound," I pleaded wondering how he came to know so much about me.

"I too am a great sinner!" he cried, beating himself on his breast. "I am the greatest sinner that ever did walk the face of God's earth!"

"Is that why you have to live here, and why nobody wants to know you?"

"Of the seven deadly sins only I have committed eight," he continued. "The day and the hour that I feel myself moving closer to God, God simply gets up and moves away from me as if I had bad breath. Poor Panger Bán himself leads a better life than I, although she is a useless mouser."

"What exactly did you do to deserve this?" I asked, curious to know more about the Exile States' legal system.

"Do?" he asked in a wounded tone. "I did nothing. I had impure thoughts. That, in my opinion, is the very worst sin of all. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Think impure thoughts?"

"Get away from me you pervert!" I shouted struggling to remove his hands from my person.

"You shall do penance tomorrow," he said. "It is now late. Come to bed."

"I'll be fine in the shed, hermit," I said fleeing outside taking the floor brush with me and wedging it against the inside of the door.

I thought I'd better leave early the next day, before the hermit awoke and before the Heartless Bodies picked up my trail. I made a fine Exile peasant, though I say it myself, and found it quite easy to tramp around the countryside like a beggar, the sky often opening over me, sometimes with missiles, sometimes with rain. I had nothing against the people but I realised that they must not guess who I was. I tended to plead ignorance and often succeeded in pulling the wool over their eyes.

My wanderings eventually found me in Schadenfreude Forest where I was given shelter in a hay loft belonging to an old forester near the fishing wear of a forest village, don't ask me how you pronounce it's name. In return for food and shelter I had to carry grain to the local mill, and by and by I became friendly with the old forester's daughter, and the old forester's wife treated me with kindness and everything seemed fine, I thought perhaps I'd stay there for a while and forget everything about High Country and Pilgrim and Lowland and even about you, Caress, and turn myself into a proper Exiled One as like Ivan Echo from Betws had done some time back when he became a ticket collector on Rausman II Station, but who do you think arrived to put paid to my dreams? Saffron Tinker and his mules.

I was in the farmyard shovelling manure from a wheelbarrow onto the dung heap when he turned up from nowhere, filling the yard with his mules. "Come round the other side of the cowshed you mad devil," I hissed, worried that we might be seen together. "And tell these animals to come with you!"

"Things aren't so great, not so very good," said Saffron Tinker. "Lost Pilgrim. Lost Gwern Excuses. Not too good. Not too splendid, see."

"What are you jabbering about you crazy beaver. Don't talk like that. Look, it's me, Gwern! But use my pseudonym, Hau'ab Schmutztuck, while you're here."

"Is it really you, Hau'ab Schmutztuck?" cried Saffron Tinker leaping from his mule. "Where is Pilgrim, is he here?"

"No, he's finished."

"Killed? And they let you live...? Oh, my! Oh, my! Well, I'm here searching for you disguised as a sane person, so come on, mount one of these mules and we'll away."

"How many mules did you bring?"

"Enough. Come on."

"I was actually quite content here until you showed up," I replied, taking exception to his attitude.

"You want to bury yourself in this hole until you rot, is that it? You think you can hide your head in that dung heap, do you? Fine then, you bury yourself away here, dung mayor. But you won't hide from your fate."

"I can try if I like."

"Come, choose a mule!"

"No!"

"I'll be mad if you won't!"

"Do you mean 'angry' or 'insane'"

"Both!"

"Oh, all right then. I'll take the brown one."

"What's all this noise?" hollered the old forester striding towards us.

"Ah! And a good morning to you again too!" I said. "Ehm, my friend Bettenhauen here was just reminding me that I have an appointment with him today in Entwürdigung City. Being preoccupied with shovelling dung I forgot all about it. I shall see you tonight, and fear not, I shall shovel all night to make up for lost time this afternoon."

"Entwürdigung City? Gosh, will you make it there and back in an afternoon I wonder?"

"No problem," said Saffron Tinker. "Look at the mules we've got."

"Strange accent," said the old forester.

"It's Schopfer Wohlgefallt's accent, actually," said Saffron Tinker. I borrowed it from him. Come on, Hau'ab Schmutztuck, we must loose no more time."

Once out of earshot Saffron Tinker started to prattle on about the war, how things would all be going wrong one minute while the next minute a new dawn would seem to usher in a better period. The length of each period had been curtailed to a quarter of an hour, he said, to economise on gossip. Great Vineyard had pulled out at the last minute having had a better offer elsewhere and Bharatistan hadn't bothered to turn up, but Earth Vineyard and Wide Island were shoulder to shoulder in the breach together with High Country and Lowland, Sunless Summer, Wild Country and Bleak Winter.

"Quite some breach," I commented. "But I can't believe that Bleak Winter has joined in. Can you see those Swarthy Cavedwarves being willing to lend a hand?"

"No, you're right, I'm sorry, they pulled out too. But all the rest have joined in and it seems we have a chance now."

"How long were you looking for us... me?"

"Since you went missing," he replied. "Mind you, with my contacts," he added, and it was a pleasure to hear his lucidly delivered pronouncements, "I might be able to bake foxgloves before dawn."

"Come now, Saffron Tinker, say it properly. You can do it."

"Don't expect too much of me, Gwern. Kick that mule, hurry. Over the ridge there, down in the glen below, are the remnants of Fion Tra regiment, Gonerin Borlat's finest infantrymen, or what's left of them."

"How do you know?"

"Because it was with them that I came here, stupid. They'll give us shelter and we can traipse along with them back to Lowland where my Taming Ralat is waiting for me."

"Why did you leave her in such a dangerous place, you fabulous lunatic?"

"Dangerous? No, it's not really dangerous, man. This is a high technology war. How much war damage did you see with the old forester and his family?"

"None," I admitted. "Although they did used to watch in on TV every night and they'd clap and cheer every time our lads took a pasting."

"Peasants," said Saffron Tinker contemptuously, spiting out a long jet of brown tobacco juice all over the leg of his trousers. "Damn it all, I'll catch it from Taming Ralat for that now." He started furiously rubbing at the stain with a dirty rag. The white peaks of Gonerin Borlat's tents were now coming into view over the rise and I took no more notice of him.

"War envoys of Faithful Night! Welcome!" cried Gonerin Borlat coming from his tent towards us. "Come inside to quench your thirst."

You would have thought we were princes the way we were made welcome and the way the turnip potsheen started flowing and the best of everything from the camp kitchens was put before us: potatoes.

"Go on, have another, just one more," urged Gonerin Borlat.

"Well, just one then," I said, trying to push another baked potato into my mouth, and doing the same for Saffron Tinker.

"Nngggww nggwww nggaaa," he spluttered in protest.

"I was sorry to hear about Pilgrim," said Gonerin Borlat when all the potatoes had been finished. "Giving his life to save his master. Sure, you wouldn't get that nowadays would you?"

"Now look here, I'm sorry too," I snapped. "I didn't want him to save me. I told him to get out while he could. And what really hurts is that I'd been beastly to him and I wasn't even able to say sorry, but he was still my friend or I wouldn't he here, would I, so you can just shut up, Gonerin Borlat, and mind your own business!"

"And it only happened a few months ago you thick Wide Island bumpkin," shouted Saffron Tinker beginning to froth at the mouth.

"Come, drink," said Gonerin Borlat without turning a hair. "Throw it west and another will be yours just now."

We made a big night of it, I can tell you; there we were still at it putting the world to rights as the blue dawn filtered through the tent. He had explained the whole campaign strategy to us, using pictures, diagrams, sticking pins into maps and explaining in detail the exact reason we were being defeated. I just wish I could remember half the things he taught us about that war. Saffron Tinker, however, lost interest half way through and began snoring loudly from his wooden armchair. No me, though. I was all ears listening to the exploits of the Fionn Trá Regiment shoulder to shoulder with Rock Jaw's warrior bandits on their shining beasts as they held Sleeve Eoghann Pass for seven days and six nights until Befehlnotstand arrived in person from Entwürdigung Castle leading the reinforcements needed to drive off the forces of the Alliance.

He told of Raven Dream's air raids and of the warheads that fell over the Exile States like falling hail from a clear sky. This was all that stood between us now and the world of the Heartless Bodies.

And he told of Grind Underfoot leading a hundred infantrymen under Captain White Fear and how, as they passed through Bleak Winter, they had been hounded by the Ice Locusts and driven to despair by the Swarthy Cavedwarves and how Grind Underfoot, having failed to appease them or reach any agreement had been obliged to return to High Country in his vest and his underpants having lost half his men over the precipice and how Faithful Night had dismissed him and was calling now for a successor to his throne.

"Sure, hasn't he sent out the word far and wide," added Gonerin Borlat, "under the seal of the Answer Keeper, that it is yourself that is to go back to High Country to try the Door of Answers."

"Well, I can't go," I boasted drunkenly, "because I've got other irons in the fire."

Gonerin Borlat went off to bed soon afterwards leaving me to ponder and to finish off the dregs of the bottle.

Suddenly the regiment's horn sounded and Saffron Tinker leapt to his feet bringing his palm smartly to his temple, standing to attention like a soldier.

"Well I am a soldier now," he said. "I've got the stripes to prove it. Look, pull up the back of my shirt if you don't believe me."

"What did you get those for?" I asked as I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes.

"Stealing flour from Naback Leish's stores back at the camp in the Valley of Forgetting, where we were before reaching the Exile States. By God it did me good, though."

The lads were striking camp around us by now, even our tent was being folded about our ears. Gonerin Borlat's bed was carried to his cart as he slept peacefully like a year old baby in the middle of its feathers.

"You and your technology war," I croaked hoarsely to Saffron Tinker. "I haven't seen much evidence of it so far in this camp."

"Oh, there's no technology down here on the ground," he said patiently. "It seems you've missed the one and only fundamental point of Gonerin Borlat's interminable postulation last night then? Ho, ho, ho! It takes a simpleton like me to understand it while you, with your head in the clouds, see nothing but mist."

"Of course I understood," I replied grumpily. "I was just testing you. Down here all energy sources have been used up, that's it, isn't it? But they have enough left up in High Country or the peace machines wouldn't still be airborne, would they?"

"Thank you and farewell, ex-pilot of the sky," proclaimed Saffron Tinker as he loosened his mules reins from the stake. "And now welcome back, mule drover. Get up on your mount and sober up, will you!"

What an excruciating, dragging on to nowhere for ever of a journey it was too. Every night Gonerin Borlat would insist on the pleasure of our company at his soirees, taking it into his head that we were gentlefolk. In fact, I suppose Saffron Tinker is some kind of noble now, now he's a husband to the sister of Prince Gonerin Borlat the brave. He didn't bother to mention Mrs Saffron Tinker at the time, nor the scandal when he did away with her and I wasn't going to spill the beans either because he didn't know that I knew.

As each new day dawned Gonerin Borlat would make his excuses and climb into bed to be carried along in his cart while I had to perch in pain on the back of my mule; Saffron Tinker, needless to say, was content to continue his inimitable mule riding technique called "saddle" in which he would have his arms and legs unceremoniously bound together as a girth under his mount in which position he would sleep away the day dreaming his strange dreams.

We dragged along through the dirt and the mud between high matted hedges of blackthorn and brambles, a long line of open shirted Wide Islandmen sinking up to their shanks in wet clay marching along; behind them Gonerin Borlat's cart with his comfy camp bed wedged tight between it's deep sides and he himself tossing and turning with every pothole and rock.

Then the two of us, Saffron Tinker and I, on our mules, he asleep on his stomach, me trying to sleep on my feet if that's what you call nodding fitfully on the ridge-like back of a mule. The war band was completed by a rear-guard of Saffron Tinker's spare mules. Yes, of course we offered the lads a ride. Would they accept? Shay De Vahy from Cineal Sugreach it was who spoke up over the rest of them. "'Is it not true for me that 'tis poor impoverished peasants rise up on high on muleback? Is it the way that you are thinking we are such? Are we not warriors of the lineage of Bhfuil Athas Ort? Keep your bloody mules, brother, we will walk!"

Weak hillocks to either side of us spoiling the view with their covering of black soot and no good sprouting from them but curls of smoke rising here and there like corpse candles from their pock-marked fields.

On we went, on and on. Gradually the hillocks began to fatten and fill out and the mists bit by bit became clouds pregnant with rain; the paltry showers grew in strength day by day until they poured down upon us like water from a tipped barrel on our heads. We won't be long now until we reach Lowland, I said to myself and for the first time I started to notice living creatures other than ourselves. A snail to start off with, then a green frog; two little mice and then three rats, and wherever trees might be one would spy a thin old crow to weak to caw.

"Tinker, Tinker, wake up!" I shouted when first I saw a sheep gnawing a tuft of pasture. The devil didn't even wake.

Lowland was the same as usual once I got there except that some things had changed. Thank goodness the fighting had been in other, stronger places I thought. But I'm sure that the war must come here through the television all the same because the people seemed to be rather withdrawn. I had long since shaken off the remnants of Fionn Tra Regiment by now, having promised Saffron Tinker that I'd be sure to look them up, Tamming Ralat and he, at Bwlch when I had a chance. He took my hand as I turned to go: "I have a fine place there, kept a Summer cottage over the Winter I have and Tamming Ralat will make us tea the way we like it when you come: a good drop of water of life in it's eye for you."

"Keep a bottle until I come, then," I said as I shook his hand.

The greatest thing that had changed were the roads: arrived at the main road - no cars. Only people on mule-back or on bikes. All energy points closed. Six cars for one bike, that was the rate. And you could barter a mule for a bike plus suit of clothes. That's what I did, anyway. A huge big black bicycle and a chapel suit. All I could do was shrug at the mule as he turned his head to watch me go. Well, you're better of with a bike if it's respect you want round here, you can't eat a bicycle. Off I went, at my ease, all along the country lanes with a Lowland look on my face and what with my Sunday clothes and my bicycle all I got was "Nice morning" and "Going far?" from everyone I met.

It was a change not to feel afraid anymore. I hadn't felt at ease since I left Lowland, and in the Exile States I now realised I'd been scared stiff of being caught for most of the time, even when I was staying with the old forester. Now, at last, I was able to breath easily again, free to go as I pleased on my sturdy bicycle and not having to worry about being recognised in my sombre Sunday outfit.

Don't I know every inch of ground, every bush, every thicket within two miles of our town? I knew that Fred Redbeak was too lazy to call in his cows until after the ten o'clock freedom call so that's where I went to spend the night. What an untidy haybarn he has, what with the rain seeping in through the holes in the roof like sand in an eggtimer and the hay all left to spoil. "I'll choose Sam Stutter's barn over at Hill of Cold Places next time," I decided, "he keeps his farm much tidier."

So there I was, at first light, trundling my bike down the lane, while around me the clouds were crumbling and the stars were going out one by one and the chaffinch, the wren and the other small birds of Winter were calling good morning to one another from the twigs and branches; I stroked my hand for warmth on the tufted caterpillar like moss on the backs of the walls but it was still brittle with frost. There was no one around, no smoke yet rose from the scattered chimneys and the bare hills' grey-blue summits waited silently for the sun's whitewash.

I hid the bike under a clump of withered bracken at the base of the bank of the furthest field-end at Hill of Thorns and then lit out on foot over the walls, across the fields.

By the time I reached the gate to Tyn Coed the sun was beginning to burnish the snowcapped hilltops but the hazels of Gelli Aur were still naked and cold. Twigs snapped beneath my feet; crows cawed uneasily, drawn from sleep by my passing, now scolding me for my intrusion but I heard them no more as I stood and stared at the orchard trees on their sides across the path. I pushed past through them, the twigs tore at my face and hands, I felt no pain. The stiff tall grass crunched like eggshells under my feet. In the struggling, foaming stream was strewn carcasses of furniture, machines, a mangle, a dead sheep, her fleece unwinding slowly from her body, her frozen smile of shells and her black eyeless sockets following me as I passed, running to the bend in the path before Tyn Coed. "Caress," I called as I saw the black slime that had belched forth from the windows and the rafters like the ribs of a boat and the door hanging from one hinge, stinking soot still smouldering within, rustling as it slid now and then from the crossbeams, it's colour impregnated on the sheets still limply hanging like thieves on the line and I shouted again," Caress!" but only the crows laughed out their answer.

I fell to my knees and dug my fingers into the wet ground and cursed the day I ever set out from home; somehow I found the strength to rise, I shoved open the door, the soot trickled down upon me, I stepped into the dying shell.

I knew where to look. The note was under the hearthstone. "Waiting for you in Entwürdigung Castle. Caress."

"Are they going to try that one on me, are they?" I spat, recognising the handwriting on the paper. "Scarlet Nightshade, the little betrayer."

At least I knew, I suppose. I just dragged a stick through the wreckage, picking up this and that from the ashes. I picked up a tiny singed boot and held it tight it to my breast. I found a gold brooch with it's centre gone and its pin broken, then a blackened photo of you and the Calonnog, it's frame all charred and bent. Outside, I plucked from the prongs of a thorn bush some fluttering pages covered with your precice, elegant handwriting, now bleached and faded by sun and rain. The remains of your diary, perhaps? They was hardly a whole page left amongst them, the edges serrated by the flames. I gathered them up. I've got them here in front of me on the table at Bwlch, trying to make out what is held on the yellowing paper:

...but it's taste to me was honey sweet.

I thought of Faithful Night when I read that, Caress, I was thinking what he would see in my heart now, and what he would see in yours, and I knew he would see the very same thing. I took another look at that broken cottage and I felt my heart become knotted and hard inside of me against the ones that did all this to you.

By the time I got back to my bike there were people to be seen here and there, but they didn't see me. Down I went, down Winter Dwelling Hill, the wind for once behind me. It didn't take me long to reach Pass of the Lake and I opened the door without even shouting, "Are there people?" and there was Saffron Tinker in his frilly apron cooking breakfast for Mrs Tamming Ralat-Saffron.

"Oh, hello, Gwern," said Saffron Tinker as if I'd hardly left his side.

"Where is my breakfast, Saffron Tinker?" shouted Princess Tamming Ralat-Safffron from the bedroom.

"I'm making breakfast for three now, dear orchard. Gwern Excuses has arrived."

"Well a hundred welcomes before you, my treasure," said exclaimed, bounding from the bedroom and planting a resounding peck on my cheek.

"That lipstick won't come off, you know," commented Saffron Tinker dejectedly.

"Shut up and bring me some coffee you layabout," she commanded, taking a pew at the table and looking as if she was going to question me.

It's nice to be questioned by someone you know well. Actually, though, I had only spoken with her once before, in Bas le Tart's pub in the Town of the Wattle Fords and... but I felt as though I knew her and it felt good to have her looking into the mess in my heart and saying, "There, there, my precious. Don't blame yourself for everything. Take for instance me and Saffron Tinker here, I just blame him for everything." Saffron Tinker took no notice, he just carried on trying to grill oysters, burning his nose every time he peered into the stove. She doesn't mince words with him, that's for sure. He must have got to know her, though, or he wouldn't have married her, I suppose.

Saffron Tinker makes a pretty picture in his frilly apron, pirouetting across the floor, singing 'The Hall of Cynddylan", his purple nose shining merrily and a plateful of breakfast in either hand.

"I'm much better now, thank you, Princess Tamming Ralat-Saffron," I said.

"Call me Ta, my love, it's less formal," she replied as she poured me out another cup of coffee.

Staying with the Saffrons did me the world of good, there's no doubt about that. I never had time to brood on gloomy thoughts as she would always have an alternative thought prepared which she would serve up to me and make me swallow in one piece.

"So you'll be heading for Rausman's castle, I suppose, will you?" she asked one fine morning, placing her cup carefully on it's saucer. "Is it to Entwürdigung Castle you'll be going then, my precious?"

"Well, yes, I guess that that's the direction I'll take," I replied lethargically.

"Well if you have to go, go now," she exclaimed bringing her cup back up to her lips. "And go in peace and take my blessings with you, dear heart. Safe journey!"

What could I do but raise my hand to wave at them as there they stood by the garden gate, seeing me off? The bicycle wobbled, I pushed at the peddles and then was away.

I was soon in the middle of nowhere without a map, trying to find the old forester's cottage somewhere in the Exile States. It was the Space Gypsies from Milk Under Sun who saved me, I you were to believe the stories I heard afterwards, but that was not how things really were. It was elbow grease and pedal power kept me going and that alone, I defy anyone to prove otherwise! That and a bit of ingenuity and cunning. I didn't raise my head up too high in the Exile States, didn't look anyone in the eye. Well, anyway, the old forester took me back. "Holidays in Entwürdigung City, what a marvellous place," I explained when he asked me where the bicycle came from."Hundreds of them there," I continued, warming to the subject. "The place is crawling with them. You've never seen anything like it! They're all rich as anything, yes, all of them, oh by God, you've never seen such wonders! Just look what passes for rubbish, trickling along the gutters there," and I took out one of Pilgrim's red stones. The old forester's eyes got wider and wider as if he would swallow up the stone with his gaze. "Take it, I don't know what it's worth around here," I said nonchalantly. "Dirt cheap where I come from."

"Noble gentleman!" cried the old forester. "You're an Entwürdigung City man yourself, I can tell! Oh joyous morning!"

"And it's taken you all this time to notice?" I scolded, folding my arms on my chest. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Old Forester, sir. Allow me to present my wife, she would like to kiss your shoes, sir."

"No doubt she is called Wife of Old Forester," I commented disinterestedly.

"Indeed she is, sir. Gosh, sir, I wish I could have been to college and become a great scholar like you, sir."

"Well you didn't and you aren't," I spat crossly as I'd seen the Exile States nobles treat their servants. "And by the way, I'm appropriating the contents of your miserable hovel in the name of Rausman the Great as well as everything else you may have of value plus all of your land a narrow shot from you door.

"Begging your pardon, 'an arrow shot', sir."

"When I want your opinion, serf, I shall go to the toilet to look for it. Now go start loading the cart with your possessions a be ready to leave!"

"Ja vol!" said Old Forester excitedly, almost striking out his right eye with the vehemence of his salute. A strange salute it is too, that Exile State salute, middle finger brought up to the right eye. I wondered whether he was trying to insult me. "No," I decided, "these people are in my pocket."

"Ja vol!" I said back to him and clipped my heels together but my Lowland felt boots made no din. "Get out your best pair of boots, Forester, and while you're at it bring me the family's best suit as well. I can't return to Entwürdigung City looking like a Methodist minister. And hurry!"

With some fine embroidery work from the hand of Wife of Old Forester you'd never guess that the suit was not the uniform of the Buchhalter Kommando rank; I took a goose quill from the old buffoon's hat and I took the only book they had in the house which I wrapped in greased paper and with these in my hand and the uniform on my back I looked the very image of a war accountant.

"And listen," I hissed, beginning to feel the importance of my position, " the girl can stay here to watch over the place and to keep guard over Rausman the Great's new property." I thought for a bit and then added, "And in this unwasteful age we dare waste no needless energy." I then plucked the Network screen plug from its socket and cut the wire. I didn't want news of our journey to travel before us, now, did I?

Old Forester and Old Forester's Wife proved very able bicycle pullers. Surely an official of the Buchhalter Kommando would not be expected to peddle his own bicycle?

Apparently they were both quite taken in by my yarn about being on a secret mission for Rausman and they accepted unquestioningly that this was why I would change my story from one village to the next. I always introduced myself as an official of the Buchhalter Kommando but I would constantly change the details of our mission and perhaps say we came from Zigenner City in one village and from Heerschau City in the next, or from Schadenfreude Forest or some other place.

What a terrible place that Entwürdigung Castle is, rising up on its hilltop from the surrounding city, the Häfling River winding like a sleepy snake around the base of the hill. Saffron Tinker had told me about the kites wheeling above the castle towers, and I had thought he was making it up when he told me of their three meter wingspans but it was all true. I'm sure they must feed them with the bodies of Lowland captives, otherwise they would surely not be so tame, swooping and turning so close above the sentinels' shoulders as they marched around the ramparts.

"Begging your pardon, sir," inquired Old Forester, "but what time is the appointment with Rausman the Great?" He saluted smartly at the mention of the awesome-glorious name.

"Never you mind about that," I replied authoritatively. "I have decided to see him tomorrow, the time I shall decide later, and I will therefore require overnight lodgings. Nothing cheap, understand!"

Old Forester went off to find lodgings while his wife, the bicycle and I repaired to a nearby tavern to enjoy a bit of local atmosphere and to hear all the gossip.

Unfortunately there was little in the way of local colour and no gossip. The occasional "Wot wuz the score tonight?" and perhaps a grunted answer "Hundred - nil" and someone else asking what were the teams and no one bothering to reply but carrying on staring into their pints. My spirits rose when I noticed a smartly dressed girl coming in and walking up to the bar. She ordered a multi-coloured cocktail and asked for a cigarette machine card, handing over a fifty unit bill. "Now then," I thought to myself, "We'll find out something of what's going on in this town."

"By the stairs, there," said the proprietor pointing. "All I've got left are tens of Mellow Sidney."

"That's not very patriotic," snapped the girl snatching the cigarette card from his hand.

"What I mean to say is," spluttered the proprietor, "is that it is my honour to announce that I have available, through the bountiful generosity and unflinching bravery of Rausman the Great, plenty of tens of Mellow Sidney."

"That's better," said she as she strode over to the machine.

She went to sit under the window without looking up at anyone. No one looked up at her either. I've seen more lively funerals, for God's sake. Talk about being fed up waiting for Old Forester to come back, but back he came eventually thank goodness.

"Where the devil have you been until now?" I demanded, having first explained to the proprietor why we were not paying for our drinks and having made him sign his name in my book and having told him he was lucky that I had not closed him down on the spot and that he should mind his tongue in future and not talk so seditiously about his cigarette stocks.

"I've been arranging lodgings," said Old Forester.

"You call this lodgings?" I barked once we had arrived.

"It says 'Resting Place' above the door," countered the peasant.

"Have you arranged the accommodation?"

"Humbly report, sir, my orders were to find lodgings, sir, that was all."

"Look here, you! Stop calling my 'sir' will you," I shouted in a fury. "I am 'Your Highness' as far as you are concerned, thank you. And this is not a lodging house but the house of dissenters. Oh, what's the use, just knock on the door."

"These ones will be Church of Rausman," said Old Forester, knocking loudly. "That's what they all are in town nowadays. Myself, as you know, I remain true to the path of Shri Rupaiah who came down in a wheel of fire with his six swords one in each hand whirling everything in his path."

"Have you been drinking, Old Forester?"

"Chust a trop, illiterally," he replied meekly but just then our host for the night came to the door and postponed Old Forester's kick up the backside.

"What the devil is the meaning of this commotion?" demanded our host for the night.

"Grand Officer Hau'ab Schmutztuck, Buchhalter Kommando is the meaning of this commotion, citizen," I replied coldly clicking my heels and raising my forefinger to my eye according to the custom. "Your papers, please."

"Ernst Gewalt at your service," he replied fishing out his papers from his dressing gown pocket. "Network code: eleven, forty one, thirty nine. Occupation: Capo, stone dressers section, City Embellishment. The books are open upon my desk upstairs. But come, come into the house, my wife will be delighted to get up to prepare a bite for you."

"A bite?" I said. "A bite will not do at all. Go and wake up the butcher and bring me some of that red venison which I hear is now in season. And wake up the wine merchant while you're at it, I'm rather thirsty."

"Ja vol!" said our host.

"And not a word to anyone," I added tapping my right index finger alongside my nose. "Confidential."

"Ja vol!" he said again and rushed off into the night.

"And how are you, then, citizenne?" I asked Mrs Gewlat. That's how you're supposed to greet people in the Exile States, so they say. "You there" was how I greeted Mrs Old Forester and "Hey you" was how I greeted Old Forester, this evidenced my higher social ranking and was proved effective by their meek acceptance of my bullying. I know I was an stuck up overbearing brute but what else could I do, I'd have got no respect from them if I'd have been nice to them. It actually surprised my how readily it came to me, I soon began to feel just like Grind Underfoot before his fall from grace. But I was not about to take a fall in the Exile States, I had decided. 'They are not going to get the better of me', I told myself.

"Citizen Gewalt," I said leaning back in my chair, having polished off the venison, the wines and the spirits that had been brought, and long after the two peasants had been bundled into the under-stair cupboard for the night, "Citizen Gewalt," I said, "let us put you to the test. What did you say your work was?"

"Capo in the stone dressers department, City Embellishment, Your Excellency."

"Just call me 'sir'," I interjected casually. He bowed before me in appreciation of the honour bestowed upon him. "City Embellishment? And how much over budget are you with the current project?"

"You mean the new tower? Oh, only a couple of million units at present, but it will get worse."

"I see you are no mean estimator," I commented. "Increased costs due to unforeseen alterations?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Nothing seems to satisfy her. She's not like us here, simply drawing a black and white box and then living in that. No, sir, not at all, sir, she wants windows that open outwards and then, once these have been fitted, she decides that they should open inwards. The worst problem were the doors. Did you ever hear of a door being hinged from the floor? Oh, yes, she had to try it out, she would not listen to my argument that one of the fundamental functions of a door is to allow one to pass unhindered from one room to the other without actually having to knock the wall down."

"That's the way it is with these strangers," I agreed, beginning to prick up my ears. "So many foreign prisoners around nowadays, aren't there?"

"Indeed there are, and too many by far. They get all the best food while we go with... what I mean is, they are kept well but not as well as us citizens, supplied to our heart's content. But that girl, she won't eat anything she doesn't like and she doesn't like much, that's what Ungesttalten the cook told me. I said she was just as fussy about the interior design of her cell."

"Women!"

"And that little rascal of a boy she's got, playing in our cement sand and making a mess of it, and he, if you please, is allowed to run wild all over the place like a charging goat."

"I see, well, very interesting. And I hope you will properly appreciate this official visit, it's quite an honour, you know..."

"Indeed I do, sir!" And our host bowed low, sweeping the knuckles of one hand over his boot.

"I'm going to your bed, now. Good Night."

"Good night, sir," said Ernst Gewalt.

"Good night, your Excellency," said Citizenne Gewalt. "When would your Excellency like your morning repast?"

"When I wake up," I yawned from the stairs.

The deep shadow of the castle engulfed us as I walked the following morning in the company of Citizen Ernst Gewalt to inspect the accounts which he had left at work.

"You know you should not leave any official papers at work," I scolded him. "Otherwise how can you carry on working when you get home?"

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "Come, this way. Your network code into the keypad and we'll be in."

"I know all about that," I said dryly. "If I enter my network code it will become known that I am here and my secret mission on behalf of Rausman the Great will not be so secret any more, will it? What's your network code again, Citizen Gewalt?"

"Eleven, forty one, thirty nine, sir. Am I still allowed to call you 'sir', your Excellency?"

"Yes, yes. Get out of my way. Look here, I'll go in instead of you today, and do you know what I'll do for you tomorrow?"

"I do not, sir."

"You can go enter using my code and get to meet Rausman the Great!"

"Really? Oh, thank you, sir!" The citizen bowed low and turned to go. "Your dinner will be ready on your return."

In I went, walking tall along wide corridors as though I knew the place like the back of my hand but was in a hurry to reach an appointment. Where there not hundreds of others just like me? Everyone seemed to be in a rush, clutching armfuls of papers to their chests. The clacking of manual typewriters issued forth from behind the innumerable doors which opened off along the long passages. "I can't run around like this for ever like a dog chasing its tail," I said to myself, completely lost in the honey comb maze of corridors, stairways, lobbies and offices. "This is worse than Emperor Bara Hathi's palace, for goodness sakes - although it seems to be a bit better maintained."

I poked my head into the very next office that I came to. Several secretaries looked up in unison, then stood up to attention when they saw my rank, making the Exile States salute with their index fingers.

"Your Excellency," they said, again in unison. "The bar is on the next floor."

"I'm not looking for the bar," I retorted, drawing my leather gloves through my hands. "I'm being miss-directed at every turn here as I try to bring my mission to a punctual and successful conclusion. I was told that this was the Repair and Renewal Department Office."

"Everyone is the same, sir," chirped up one of them cheekily, a tall blonde girl with high cheekbones - I soon found that informality ruled amongst the office girls, very few seemed to address their superiors as they should; she really had no right to address someone of my rank merely as 'sir'. However no one seemed to notice and I put up with it. "No one can find anything here, sir, since they took down the direction screens from all the lobbies."

"Of course security considerations are more than all important, girls. You are correct."

"How right you are, sir," she cried. "Now, sir, you want Bettnachzieher's office seventeen floors up, the stairs are first left at the end of the next right hand corridor."

"I am gratified to note that you do not suggest using the lift."

"Never, sir! Energy saving is the rule, sir! Anyway, it's never wo..., ehm, actually, sir, we've been saving energy on it since the day it was installed."

"Well, girls, I must not keep you from you duties. Your patriotic enthusiasm will be noted in my report." I was really finding it difficult all this pushing my tongue around fine-mouthed utterances all the time.

Red in the face and dripping in sweat I finally reached the floor I wanted, leant against a wall to catch my breath and looked around for Bettnachzieher's office. Having found it, I knocked.

"In," said his secretary's voice.

"And a good day to you too," I said stepping in.

"He's out on business. You'll have to wait, sir. I've no idea when he'll be back. Take the armchair over there. Tea or coffee?"

"Is Bettnachzieher often out during office hours?" I inquired from the armchair as I sipped my black coffee.

"I would not like to say, sir."

"Would you like to go straight to jail, my girl?"

"I would not, sir. He's out more than he's in. I used to say that he'd gone to the toilet but he corrected me. "If I'm out I'm out on business," he said. "Don't say I've gone to the toilet or than I haven't got up yet, there's a good girl.""

"Well, I can not wait any longer. In confidence, this has to do with the new tower. A discrepancy regarding the accounts."

"Oh, so you're the one they've sent to sort it out, sir? High time too if you want my opinion. Do you know the price they've been paying for cement? You could have built a palace for a quarter the price!"

"You have not mentioned this to anyone else?" I asked "It is imperative that you keep this to yourself, do you understand?"

"But the story is all over the castle, sir. Thank goodness you are here to bring it all to a head, sir."

"I see, I see," I muttered. "Well, now, I can't waste another minute. Direct me to the tower. And not a word about my visit to anyone. Confidential!"

Seven floors above I finally glimpsed the tower through a side window in the draughty stairshaft. A high tower with a pointed roof and unforgivably poor stonework, as far as I could judge from that distance. I could see long green drapes billowing from the narrow windows. The Exile States flag swam haughtily from its pole on tower's lead-capped point. I can't stand those red, white and black colours forming a jagged cross. "Just you wait," I hissed, "one day the white on white will fly from that pole." I laughed wryly at my own immaturity in thinking such stupid thoughts. Far below, Entwurdigung City's patchwork roofscape spread out in all directions, partly obscured by the brown smoke that hung above it's chimneys, until finally dissolving into the murky horizon. I had little time to appreciate the view, however, as I was interrupted by a dozen well fed red faced officers of Rausman's high command.

"Ho! Ho!" said one with a brush like moustache and a monocle embedded into the folds of flesh around his eye, wearing, like the others, a shining spike topped helmet on his head and clanking silver and gold medals on his chest. "One of the Buchhalter Kommando! Off the beaten track, rather, aren't we?"

"Grand Officer Hau'ab Schmutztuck. Network code eleven forty one thirty nine. Good day to you, General Befehlnotstand. Please accept my congratulations! Who else could have re-taken Sleeve Eoghan pass from that rabble, how one earth does one pronounce it? - 'Fine Try'?"

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" bellowed Befehlnotstand. "Come, Officer Schmutztuck, let us repair to the Smoking Club, it's almost time for the Wire Brandy distribution."

It had not been hard for me to recognise the old so-and-so, his face used glower at us from every leaf of our Lowland toilet paper and below it the caption "KNOW YOUR ENEMY". Of course all that had been withdrawn just before war broke out. After all there was probably no point inciting Befehlnotstand unnecessarily, in case we lost.

"Investigating the cement case, I presume?" Befehlnotstand and I were by now comfortably installed in our deep armchairs in the Smoking Club, each with his glass of Wire Brandy and his baton like cigar.

"Yes, amongst other things," I replied casually. "I am certainly not impressed by the exterior stonework."

"You should see the place from the inside," spluttered Befehlnotstand. "It is a scandal of the first degree."

"I fully intend to inspect every inch of it," I said firmly, knocking back a stiff draught of the bitter spirits. "It's really awful how wasteful of energy units people become in war."

"Exactly! You are an officer of my school of thought exactly! Look at all the prisoners we have taken - it's quite ridiculous how much has to be spent on them, depriving our City Embellishment Department of valuable funds at a time when they are already fully stretched with the reconstruction of bridges, embankments and factories; they should all be shot there and then. By the way, that is what I do, personally, but you try getting everyone to agree!"

"You have a point," I agreed, beginning to dislike the man. "However I have heard others arguing that we should blow up our own bridges, embankments and factories before the enemy drop their missiles on them, we would not then have to shoot down their machines and take all those costly prisoners."

"Yes, sir. That is Shrumpmann's theory. Rausman, as you no doubt know, is considering both options. It is apparent, sir, that you are pretty close to the top. Am I right? Ho! Ho! Ho! I knew it! I knew it!"

We had to drink another bottle of Wire Brandy after that but still he showed no sign of stirring so I made my excuses, "duty calls"; a knowing tap on the nose, a click of the heels and a forefinger to the eye, and with a final shout of "Zugang Zurüchschlagen!" back I went into the beehive.

If I'd been lost before I was even more lost now what with the belly full of spirits I'd had. I was pushing my luck and I thought I'd better get on with my business and get the hell out as soon as possible.

The anaemic afternoon sun was drowning in the seashore sky and a yellow tide of fog was spreading slowly over the city roofscapes below me as I marched authoritatively towards the new tower workmen's workplace on the thirtieth floor at the base of the tower.

"Where is the gaffer?" I demanded of a round bellied stone mason who was bending to pack his tools away.

"Gone 'ome," he replied gloomily, picking up his bag of tools.

"Do you know who I am?" I insisted nastily.

"I do, sir," he shrugged. "You've come about the cement. I told Schlacht the Gaffer, 'No good will come of this, Schlacht,' I said to him. "They're sure to get to know and they'll send the Buchhalter Kommando to question us and then we'll be in a fine mess." The stone mason put down his bag and held out his arms. "Put on the cuffs, sir. You will say I co-operated with you, sir?"

"First I need to inspect the insides," I said. "Come with me."

"Coming, sir!"

"What cowboys have you had here plastering the walls, workman?" I demanded, scratching the crazed and pitted plaster with my thumbnail. "This will have blistered in no time."

"My brother Gründlichkeit and I did the plastering, sir."

"And you call yourself a craftsman! What a jerry-job! Your name and number!"

"Gotthold Ephraim, Stone Mason of Morgenglocke, sir. Thirteen twenty six forty two. And if it please you, sir, I have never been so bold as to call myself a craftsman, sir. But I am cheap, and that is why Schlacht the Gaffer gives me work, sir."

"Who lives in this tower, Workman Ephraim?"

"I dunno, sir. What's it to me? What with all the chopping and changing here the place won't be ready for another three months, anyway. Of course, with honest workmen taking over now, I suppose it will all be finished a lot sooner."

"I had heard that a foreign girl was being kept here, she and her son?"

"Who, that abusive little shrew? And that scamp of a son she's got? Running wild all over the place and dragging his finger through the wet plasterwork, wasting the men's time with his silly questions about the city and his silly bits of paper. Schlacht the Gaffer sometimes takes him to the punisharium but he still doesn't learn."

"So do they live here now?"

"The work has to be finished first, sir."

"Yes, of course. Well, I'm taking you into custody now. It's quite obvious that you are guilty of who knows how many crimes. Head first into Rausman's dungeon to rot forever with you! Have you any family?"

"I have, sir! Thank you for your consideration! Will you take a message to them, sir?"

"That will not be necessary, prisoner. They will be joining you in the dungeon. We cannot allow low types of your sort to walk free through the city polluting the atmosphere."

"No, you can not, sir."

"But I'm rather tired tonight. I really can't face all the paperwork. Do you know what I think I'll do with you? Instead of Rausman's dungeon for the rest of your life I shall lock you up overnight in the tower. Who's a lucky devil, eh?"

"If it please you, sir, I'm a lucky devil, sir ... but, sir, you will still take the wife and kids to the dungeon won't you sir?"

"Yes, yes. Now, go!" And I locked him up in the tower and started to grope my way through the gathering shadows towards the stairhead. However the darkness in Entwürdigung Castle is nothing compared to the darkness of Faithful Night's Lower Level and I managed to find my way back to the twentieth floor without mishap.

Turning a corner I was suddenly thrown to the ground by a hurtling bundle of arms and legs and there on the flagstones we thrashed wildly like fish in a net. "All good things must come to an end," I thought to myself as I waited for the click of the searchlights and the crunch of the Heartless Bodies' boots.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" squealed a high pitched voice from somewhere inside my greatcoat.

"Out from there!" I shouted fiercely catching hold of a stubborn little wrist.

"Not go punisharium. Not go punisharium," wailed the voice plaintively.

"I fear that there is no alternative but to take you to the punisharium," I said drawing out the little boy from my coat and pulling him along after me. "You know very well that you should not run wild along the corridors. What will your mother say when she hears?"

"Mum not care. Mum not care." He was struggling and trying to drag his feet to get away from me.

"Where is your mother at the moment?" I asked as I yanked him after me.

"In our cell she. She not come out. I come out."

I was glad to see that his Exilese was still pretty basic, but I carried on talking Exilese to him in case he guessed who I was. "Is she alone?"

"No. Rausman with her. Question time."

"Are you allowed out of the castle, Calonnog?"

"No, not."

"Would you like to be allowed to go out, instead of having to go to the punisharium?"

"Yes, would."

"Fine! Now, what time is your mother expecting you back?"

"After Rausman go. Twenty one hour."

That gave us three hours and I made the most of them. I wasn't intending to take the boy away from you, quite the opposite. I'd come to take you both away but I'd failed this time. But it's going to be so much easier next time, I'll know the ropes, you'll be on your own, and the boy far away in a safe place. You'll both have to flee to High Country, for sure, but we two will be friends again and you'll see that I love you and we'll live happy and free in the middle of High Country and Saffron Tinker and Tamming Ralat will come to retire to a cottage in the bowl of the mountains and Faithful Night will welcome us all home. This is how I was thinking as we descended the stairs from floor to floor until at last we reached the foyer with it's revolving glass doors but it was out through the back that we went, having tapped in the network code making the screens think I was Citizen Architect Ernst Gewalt while the guards all thought I was an officer of the Buchhalter Kommando and no one putting two and two together or suspecting anything, one even giving Calonnog some sweets which he promptly spat out once we went round a corner.

I didn't bother returning to Resting Place but went directly to Rausman II Station to find out if there were any trains running. Calonnog showed me how to get there, it turned out he knew every twist and turn of the streets having spent all his time staring down at the city from the castle towers and making little childish maps of the place to pass the time and which he would ask the workmen to explain to him. There were no passenger trains running and only one goods train leaving that night, bound for Schadenfreude Forest, so we crept to the far end of the station where the lights grew dim.

There were only two guards ridding her as far as I could see, one up with the stoker and the other at the far end. It was not to difficult, as she pulled slowly past, for me to slip un-noticed, with Calonnog buttoned inside my coat and his arms clinging around my neck, up onto the connection between two wagons and away we went.

"Where we going?" Piped up Calonnog, apparently enjoying all the excitement.

"Home to Lowland, my laddie," I replied in our language. "I'll be back for your mother very soon, don't you worry."

"Why can't Mum come tonight? She hates that horrid old castle and those nasty old soldiers too. What's your name?"

"Gwern Excuses, my little one. Your mum and I, we go back a long way but you were only a little little boy last time I saw you so you won't remember me probably."

"I've heard Mum talking about you. I think she was waiting for you or something, you were supposed to come. Gosh, won't she be cross that she missed you tonight?"

"She will, little one, yes, she will," I said wrapping my greatcoat tighter about him and pushing my fingers through his hair.

On the empty plain between the city and the desert a burning train lit up the night, the leaping flames burnishing his round and perfect sleeping face as we sped by. I wedged my boots more tightly against the wagon's boards and let the rhythmic clanking of the wheels flow over my head like waves.

"Well indeed, I don't know what to say," said Saffron Tinker, his chin in the cup of his hand, as we sat around the tea table, Calonnog tucking into cream and pancakes prepared by Princess Ralat-Saffron.

"Well shut up then and say nothing," said Tamming Ralat striking his wrist from under him so that his forehead bounced on the table-top, "and let someone with some sense say something for once."

"You're silly, Uncle Saffron," laughed Calonnog, his cheeks full of pancake.

"I never before heard of anyone escaping from Entwürdigung Castle," she continued, "and to cross over into Lowland as well, its a miracle!"

"I've done it! I've done it!" shouted Saffron Tinker pounding the table and making the saucers tinkle.

"No you haven't! Now be quiet!" She scolded. "Isn't it a shame that she isn't here with us tonight, we'd all be together, not a care in the world."

"Hmmph!" Grumbled Saffron Tinker, "This one would be sure to find something to grouse about, the fruitless lout that he is, I'd soon show..."

"Take no notice of him Gwern dear," Tamming Ralat interrupted him. "Sure, there's enough trouble with you anyway, Saffron Tinker."

"Trouble! Yes, and troubles!" he shouted getting all agitated, gesticulating wildly.

"He'd come along so nicely last time I saw him," I commented quietly.

"This one is like the wind, my love. He can change in a trice. He'll be fine just now after he's finished his tea, mark my words."

She was right, he felt better after his tea and went out to play with Calonnog in the back garden. You can bet that Saffron Tinker is not much of a dab hand at the specialised art of nurturing plants and flowers but he likes to call the rough patch of rocks and nettles behind the cottage "my garden". But little Calonnog is quite fascinated with his Uncle Saffron and watches rapt as he teaches him all sorts of tricks; likewise, Saffron Tinker listens to the boy wide-eyed in wonder as he recounts his stories of Entwürdigung Castle and all he saw there.

I'd decided to return to the Exile States at the end of the week but my plans were disrupted by the arrival on the farmyard this morning of Scarlet Nightshade on her bicycle. She was nice as cherry pie and said I was looking really well and asking after Saffron Tinker and his wife, did I go to the wedding, I said they were out but she could come in anyway, have a cup of tea. Calonnog had gone with them to the village on the back of his little mule but I didn't mention that to Scarlet Nightshade. She was keeping fine, thanks, but had been through terrible times with the Heartless Bodies, had been kidnapped by them and been interrogated by none less than Rausman himself - she'd told him nothing - and had eventually got herself free of them and was now on her way to join up with the remnants of the Wire Bandits, still holed out in the Wild Country and keeping the Exiled States at bay. Spies from the Exile States were like flies all over Lowland, she said.

"Did you hear anything of Caress then?" I asked her.

"The little tart has gone over to the enemy, if you please, for shame on her! Living like a noblewoman in that dirty old castle and they say she's even exchanged rings with that glutton Rausman."

"Who says?" I asked in fright. "I don't believe it."

"Believe you what you will, my bonny," she said scornfully.

"How's things with Wil Pickled Herring?" I said to change the subject.

"Oh, that one was pickled long ago," she answered in an off-hand manner, "serves him right too, the unfragrant wretch."

"I thought you two were kind of close."

"Who? Me? For Heaven's sake, Gwern, where ever did you get that idea? Anyway, how's tricks with you these days? Heading back towards High Country are you? I expect things are a bit hot for you to dawdle around here much longer."

"Yes, I guess that's what I'll do,"

"So you'll leave Caress in Entwürdigung Castle, then? Very sensible too. Listen, I'll come with you to High Country. I've got a cousin living there so I'll be able to stay there with no problem. You and me, we're childhood friends, our paths lead from the same point, it'd be a shame for us to part again, Gwern. I'll look after you, my tired love, you're quite worn out, aren't you? Come lie down, rest awhile, you'll soon feel better, my dearest. Take off that old coat, you'll be more comfortable..."

A seductress and a half is this one, I told myself weakly as my eyelids, heavy as lead, started to close and I let myself be led by the hand to Saffron Tinker's bedroom.

"Come, we'll get undressed," she said in a business like tone.

She was half undressed, standing before me, a strong limbed lass, lithe of body, busy with her straps. I was having trouble concentrating on anything else.

"Who is your cousin in High Country, Scarlet?" I asked absent mindedly.

"I think you probably know quite well who she is," she smiled back.

"What are you suggesting?" I think I sounded quite innocent.

"You used her, didn't you? Then you cast her to one side like a rag doll, having satisfied your desires on her... But, there: she's always been a cheap little bitch and she deserved no better so who gives a damn?"

"What are you doing now then, if you're not using me?" I snapped starting to get fed up with her attitude. "And maybe you don't give a damn but you didn't waste any time spilling the beans to Caress did you, you spiteful hussy."

"And you're a two-faced womaniser," she spat angrily. "She deserved to know what you're really like, you had it coming."

"And what are you really like, then, Scarlet Nightshade? Carrying tales to Caress and carrying tales to Fischermädchen so she could carry your tales to Befehlnotstand and the Heartless Bodies, you treacherous bitch!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" she laughed as she stooped and straightened again with a shining razor blade in her hand. "Well, who's a clever boy then? Too clever by half I'd say. Even Caress won't want you when I've sliced you up like a side of bacon, you cuckoo chick, you!" She lunged at me and drew the blade lightly through the thick of my naked forearm, opening it like a pigs throat, the blood gushing over the sheets as she drew back and came for me again but I rolled on my side and caught her wrist in my other hand, pressing down on the back of her hand until the blade dropped from her grasp and I grabbed it still holding on to her arm.

"Try one more dirty trick like that," I snarled, holding the blade right in front of her eyes, "and I'll cut you up into pieces so small even the crows in the fields won't bother to pick at them. Now, get dressed and get out!"

I know that I wasn't supposed to let her go. Any professional soldier would have been obliged to kill her, knowing that she was a spy. I just could not, I couldn't think of doing that. She was too alive, too fine, and too close, not like those ants we wiped out on the reservoir embankment. And I couldn't keep her there either, even as a prisoner, or she would have come to know that Calonnog was here and somehow she would have got word out that he was here.

So away she went on her bicycle as I stood on the threshold, the blood rusting on the razor blade in my hand and the stain creeping through the rag on my arm.

That was this morning. Now I've got to go. Back to Entwürdigung City before she brings the world of the Heartless Bodies down about my head. Does the Network screen work in this house? Good. Copy the mobile processor, a copy for you here, a note to go with it. Damn that little bitch for opening my arm. Missed the artery, though, and my left hand anyway. Note: 'Dear Saffron Tinker, Tamming Ralat and Calonnog, I'll see you in a day or two. Scarlet Nightshade was here but she knows nothing about Calonnog. A copy here of my mobile processor data, I hope there's nothing too bad in it about Saffron Tinker. For the time being, Gwern.

Gwern, my heart, Why did you come back? Now I've got two holes in my heart instead of the one I had before. Rausman says you were no better than a highwayman. A thieving rebel. He delights in making me read from your data card: 'Read it out loud and make me laugh, read it in Exile language so's I can understand!' 'That stupid little worm," he calls you. He's a swine of a man, but I have to pretend otherwise or my life would not be worth living. Is it worth living anyway, I wonder? Is it true that I won't see you anymore?

Scarlet Nightshade comes to see me of an afternoon and she never fails to taunt me about your unfaithfulness to me and she gloats about how close you always were to her cousin and that you even went with her in Saffron Tinker's cottage. But Scarlet Nightshade doesn't know about your mobile processor - Rausman himself gave it to me but he has no time for Scarlet Nightshade. So I just listen to her ranting on, knowing that it's all untrue, and knowing that you were really thinking of me all that time, just as I was missing you. But I was to proud to admit it. If only I'd known when Scarlet used to come by Tyn Coed poisoning me against you. She was in love with you but because you didn't love her, her love turned to hate towards you and towards our land and everyone in it and she went over to work for Fischermädchen. That's how they came to know how to snatch me and Calonnog without anyone standing in their way, that's how they took us to the middle of the Exile States and locked us up in our 'luxurious' tower here with nothing to do all day but mope. Calonnog was my world and I almost lost my mind when he went missing and no-one would tell me where he'd gone and there was I thinking it was one of Rausman's tricks to get me to submit to him and I couldn't eat or sleep or anything. Where is Calonnog now, Gwern? Is he with Saffron Tinker? Have they tried to reach High Country? I know all the paths are now closed between Lowland and High Country and I'm sick with worrying what's happened to them. Poor Calonnog. If only I could know what happened. And if they were caught by Befehlnotstand did he kill them as he kills all his captives or were they taken by the Heartless Bodies and are they at this moment on their way to Entwürdigung City or are they here already in some underground cell shivering and calling out for the light? If you were alive you could tell me Gwern, my steadfast love, but now I have no place left to turn.

Gwern, my love and my friend, they have raised your poor head on a pole by the castle gates; Rausman says I must go to look at you but I will not. He is a cruel man, Gwern, he has so many ways to hurt me. He likes getting that vicious Befehlnotstand up here to my tower and he says to him, "Explain to us again, Befehlnotstand, how you killed that thieving little fox."

And the fat giant starts to boast about how they surrounded you by the banks of Häfling River, where it turns from Schadenfreude Forest towards Entwürdigung City, on a cold late afternoon as the sun sank low over the blood red river, there you were on the back of your mule which they shoot from under you and then they had some sport with you until they got tired of it and killed you like a worm before retiring to their tents for the night, and that you were nothing but a straw soldier and that the new legends about you miss by mile - you were nothing but a good for nothing coward at the end, pleading for your life. But I never believed one word that fell from that bastard Befehlnotstand's lips and I'll believe not a word that may fall from them again.

Oh, that you might come again into my dreams, Gwern, my embracing love. Our dreams would be happier now but you don't come. Come tonight, Gwern, let me sleep once more in your arms before my daylight fades. Your Caress.

Gwern Excuses, the boy is pulling the house down around our ears. Two so old and feeble as her indoors and me, we can't be running after the little monkey all day. Oh, but he's a dear sweet thing, I won't deny it. He really likes it up here in the pure High Country air. Some workmen from Stone Town came to help me build a little cottage on the site of my old hut up in the bowl of the hills. It's cozy as a nest! Do you know, we were lucky to get here at all, Gwern. The last path was closed three days after we had passed along it. Mind you, with my connections... we were lucky to even get close. But it's fine here now, Gwern, the Spring is dizzy on the hillsides and the birds of the bushes are out early practising their song. All you have to do is imagine that the mules are lambs and you can feel as if you're back in Lowland once again.

It's been a hard blow for Faithful Night, Gwern. The Keeper of Answers and he had been confident that you would have come to stand in the breach on the eleventh hour. An old fool like me, who should have been pushing up the daisies long ago, he misses you to, my bright flower, and when I think of those devils that killed you, it makes my blood churn until everything swims before my eyes and I want to throw out my arms and break anything I can lay my hands on and I fly outside shouting "Gwern!" unto the high pastures, "Gwern!" as I stumble through the wooded slopes, "Gwern" I whisper on my knees into the ear of the mountain streams and only the wind in the rushes seems to answer. Her indoors, she says I've lost my marbles for ever, she threatens to take me back to the Lower Level but she knows that I won't go.

But then when I see the boy racing his little mule and when I help him to build a tree house in the ash behind the house and when I see the sun shining from his eyes I say to myself, "Don't be stupid, Saffron Tinker." Tamming Ralat and I will bring up the boy for Caress and you, and one day I'll tell him what they did to you that frozen night on the banks of the Häflinge River where Scarlet Nightshade had told them to lie in wait for you and where they shot your mule from under you as you passed by but that even then they failed to take you and you kept their Heartless Bodies all at bay and so they shot you in the back and your blood ran red and mingled with the dying river sunlight and they cut off your head and stuck it on a pole to carry it in triumph back to Entwürdigung Castle where the crows peck at it above the castle gates, and I'll give him your mobile processor data and your Calonnog will be a worthy heir to you, Gwern, and the day will come when they will pay for this violence, in the name of God, their day will come.

I'm beginning to get worked up again, Gwern. I'd better close down the screen for now. Until tomorrow. Saffron Tinker.

It's me again, Gwern, just back from a walk above Stone Town this afternoon, Calonnog and I, because Faithful Night wanted to meet him down in Lower Level. 'You won't be afraid of the dark, will you, little one?' I said. 'No, I won't, Grandpa, not if you're with me," he said. "Grandpa,' he asked later, 'what's that big wooden door in the cliff?' 'That's the Door of Answers, Calonnog, it's...' and before I could finish the little rascal had scampered away from me and was tugging at the Door of Answers which opened and the afternoon was all illuminated like the throwing of a switch as the rays flooded out through the Door of Answers and the voice of the Keeper of Answers said quietly from within, "Come in, Calonnog, the time has come.'

Everything has been arranged, Gwern! He's going to stay with us until he's old enough to start with Faithful Night and then he'll go to live in the Lower Level to study at the feet of the Keeper of Answers himself! And Lower Level is an ocean of light now, Gwern, not a black hole as it used to be, and Faithful Night is delighted and smiles all the time. He's a little man like myself, Gwern, he wears a suit of homespun cloth and calf skin shoes and he smokes a pipe, Gwern, can you believe it? I haven't met the Keeper of Answers but there we are, I'm sure he's just as friendly too.

No news from Entwürdigung City, I'm afraid. But Faithful Night promises to help us try to bring back Caress from her lonely tower. I've told him I'm coming out of retirement and I'm going to try and find her. What do you think of that, Gwern? Do you remember how I helped you when you were in the Exile States? Old Saffron Tinker will do it, Gwern, and if I die trying, who will miss me? Of course, Tamming Ralat is coming with me! She insists. We will have to wait, though, we'll have to wait until Calonnog is old enough to go to the Lower Level, but there are only a few years until then.

Published in Welsh as Seren Wen ar Gefndir Gwyn

(literally  White Star on a White Background)