Haggopian and Other Stories

“—But let me speak!” Dyzm’s turn to interrupt. And: “Incentives, you wanted. Very well. One: I would take four half-buckets of treasure—only four—and then lower the ladder and let them up, and all three of us would get our share. Two: the quicker they got to work and began filling the bucket, the better for them, for their time would likely be…limited.”

Limited? Tarra liked not the word. “By the amount of food you could provide?”

“No, game is plentiful in and around the lake, as you’ve seen. Guess again.”

“By the number of torches you could readily prepare, whose light the two would need in order to do your bidding?”

“No, the preparation of torches proved in no way inconvenient.”

Tarra frowned. “Then in what way limited?”

He heard Dyzm’s gurgly, self-satisfied sigh. “I cannot be sure,” he finally said. “It was only…something that my friend in the sulphur pits warned me about.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, for I also had it from him—in his dying breath, mind you, which was a deep one—that the ancient race of kings whose tombs and treasures these were, had set certain guardians over their sepulchres and sarcophagi, and that even now the protective spells of long-dead wizards were morbidly extant and active. Which is to say that the place is cursed, Tarra Khash, and that the longer you stay down there—in what you will shortly discover to be a veritable labyrinth of tombs—the more immediate the horror!”

IV

Horror? And the Hrossak cared for that word not at all! Nor on this occasion did he doubt the veracity of what Dyzm had said: it would explain why the pool and country around had not been settled. Nomads and hill men alike were wary of such places, as well they might be. Finally he found voice: “And the nature of this doom?”

“Who can say?” Dyzm replied. “Not I, for the two who went before you did not live to tell me. But they did tell me this: that in a certain tomb are twin statues of solid gold, fashioned in the likeness of winged krakens not unlike the dripstone idols of these cavern antechambers. And having loaded three half-buckets of treasure for me, they went off together to fetch me one of these statues; their last trip, as would have been. Alas, they returned not… But you need a fresh torch, Hrossak, for that one dies.” He let fall a fat faggot and Tarra quickly fired it.

“Now then,” Dyzm continued in a little while, “this is what I propose. Find for me that tomb and fetch me a kraken of gold, and that will suffice.”

“Suffice?”

“I shall then be satisfied that you are a sincere man and worthy to be my partner in future ventures. And when I have the statue, then shall I lower the ladder and we’ll be off to Chlangi together, and so on to Klühn.”

Tarra could not keep from laughing, albeit a mite hysterically. “Am I to believe this? Fool I am, Hadj Dyzm—great fool, as you’ve well proved—but such a fool?”

“Hmm!” Dyzm gruffly mused. He dropped more torches. “Well, think it over. I can wait awhile. How long the demon guardians will wait is a different matter. Meanwhile: ‘ware below!—I lower the bucket.” And down came the bucket on the end of its rope.

Tarra at once tugged at the rope, testing it, and as the bucket came to rest upon the floor he swung himself aloft, climbing by strength of his arms alone. Man-high he got—and not an inch higher. With soft, twangy report rope parted, and down crashed Hrossak atop bucket and all. “Ow!” he complained, getting upon his feet.

Above, Dyzm chuckled. “Ow, is it?” he said. “Worse than that, Tarra Khash, if the rope had held! Did you think I’d sit here and do nothing until you popped up out of the hole? I’ve a knife here you could shave with, to cut you or rope or both. Oh, I know, ’twas desperation made you try it. Well, you’ve tried and failed, so an end to tomfooleries, eh? Now I’ll lower the rope some and you can make a knot; after which you can get off and find me my kraken statue. But a warning: any more heroics and I’ll make you

fetch both!”

“Very well,” Tarra answered, breathing heavily, “—but first tell me something. Right here, a pace or two away, lies a great stone box of treasure. Doubtless your two dragged it here for you. Now tell me: why were its contents never hauled aloft?”

“Ah!” said Dyzm. “That would be their fourth haul, when they told me about the statues. I had forgotten.”

“So,” said the Hrossak, nodding, “returning with this box—their fourth haul and not the third, as you first alleged—these idiots told you about the golden, winged kraken idols, so that you spurned this latest haul in favour of the greater marvel they described. Is that it?”

“Something like that, aye. I’m glad you reminded me. Perhaps before you get off searching you’d like to—”

“I would not like to!” answered Hrossak hotly. “It’s either contents of this box or one of these damned idols—if I can find ’em—but not both. Which, I rather fancy, is what they told you, too.”