There were no windows, no doors. There was the table, there was a bed and there were chairs with side-tables scattered about the various surfaces of the chamber. It was as if he were confined within an immense, luster-hoarding jewel. Reflected and re-reflected versions of himself paced infinity, and there was light everywhere that he looked. There was not a shadow to be had, anywhere.
He seated himself in the nearest chair, and his reflection stared up at him from between his feet.
A prisoner of he who has already slain you once, he thought. No doubt near to his place of power, in a cage built just for me. Bad. Bad.
There was movement everywhere. The mirrors showed an instant's infinity of motion, then all was still once again. He looked about, seeking the result of this activity.
Beef, bread, wine and water now stood upon the table that hung above him.
Rising to his feet, he felt a light touch upon his shoulder. He turned quickly, and the Lord of Bats smiled at him and bowed.
"Dinner is served," he said, gesturing toward the table.
Jack nodded, moved with him, seated himself and began to fill his plate.
"How do you like your quarters?"
"I find them quite amusing," Jack replied. "I note an absence of doors and windows, among other things."
"Yes."
Jack began to eat. His appetite was like a flame that would not be quenched.
"Your journey has left you quite wretched-looking, you know."
"I know."
"I will have a bath sent around later, and some fresh garments."
"Thank you."
"No trouble. I want you to be comfortable during what will no doubt be a lengthy period of recuperation."
"How lengthy?" Jack inquired.
"Who knows? It could take years."
"I see."
If I were to attack him with the carving knife. Jack wondered, would I be able to kill him? Or would he be too strong for me now? Or able to summon his power in an instant? And if I were to succeed, could I find a way out of here?"
"Where are we?" Jack asked.
The Lord of Bats smiled.
"Why, we are right here," he said, touching his breast.
Jack frowned, puzzled.
"I do not-"
The Lord of Bats unfastened a heavy silver chain he wore about his neck. A gleaming jewel hung suspended from it. He leaned forward and extended his hand.
"Study it for a moment, Jack," he said.
Jack touched it with his fingertips, weighed it, turned it.
"Well, would it be worth stealing?"
"Most likely. What sort of stone is it?"
"It is not actually a stone. It is this room. Consider the shape."
Jack did, shifting his eyes from the stone to the walls and back several times.
"Its shape is quite similar to that of this chamber..."
"It is identical. It must be, because they are the same thing."
"I fail to follow-"
"Take it. Hold it near to your eye. Consider its interior."
Jack raised it, closed one eye, squinted, stared.
"Inside..." he said. "There is a tiny replica of this chamber inside..."
"Look for this table."
"I see it! And I see us seated at it! I am-1 am studying-This stone!"
"Excellent!" The Lord of Bats applauded.
Jack released it and the other raised it by its chain.
"Please observe," he said.
He moved his free hand toward it, enclosed the suspended gem in his fist.
There was darkness. It remained but a moment, departed as he loosened his grip.
Then he took a candle from beneath his cloak, wedged it into a hold in the table and struck a light to it. He swung the pendant near to the flame.
The chamber became warm, uncomfortably so. After a moment, the heat grew oppressive and Jack felt beads of perspiration begin upon his forehead.
"Enough!" he said. "There is no need to roast us!"
The other extinguished the flame and dipped the pendant into the water decanter. There came an immediate cooling.
"Where are we?" Jack repeated.
"Why, I wear us about my neck," said the Lord of Bats, replacing the chain.
"A good trick. Where are you now?"
"Here."
"Within the gem?"
"Yes."
"And you are wearing the gem."
"Obviously. Yes, it is a very good trick. It did not take me very long to work it out and to set it up. After all, I am undoubtedly the most capable of all the sorcerers-despite the fact that some of my most precious manuscripts dealing with the Art were stolen many years ago."
"What an unfortunate loss. I should think you would have guarded such documents most carefully."
"They were well-guarded. There was a fire, however. During the confusion, the thief was able to remove them and escape into the shadows."
"I see," said Jack, finishing a final piece of bread and sipping his wine. "Was the thief apprehended?"
"Oh yes. He was executed. But I am not finished with him yet."
"Oh?" said Jack. "What are your plans now?"
"I am going to drive him mad," said the Lord of Bats, swirling his wine within his goblet.
"Perhaps he is mad already. Is not kleptomania a mental disorder?"
The other shook his head.
"Not in this instance," he said. "With this thief it is a matter of pride. He likes to outwit the mighty, to appropriate their possessions. It seems to feed his self-esteem. If this desire is a mental disorder, then most of us suffer from it. In his case, though, the desire is often satisfied. He succeeds because he possesses some power and is shrewd and ruthless in its employment. I shall take great delight in observing his degeneration into a state of total madness."
"So as to feed your pride and self-esteem?"
"Partly. It will also constitute a bit of homage to the god Justice and a benefit to society at large."
Jack laughed. The other only smiled.
"How do you intend to achieve the desired result?" he finally asked.
"I shall confine him to an inescapable prison where he will have absolutely nothing to do but exist. Occasionally, I will introduce certain items and remove them again-items which will come to occupy his thoughts more and more as time passes, inducing periods of depression and times of fury. I will break that smug self-assurance of his by rooting out the pride from which it grows."
"I see indeed," said Jack. "It sounds as if you have been planning this for a long while."
"Never doubt it."
Jack pushed away the empty platter, leaned back in the chair and considered the multitude of images that surrounded them.
"I daresay that the next thing you will tell me is that your pendant could accidentally be lost during an ocean voyage, buried, burnt or fed to hogs."
"I shan't, as it has already occurred to you."
The Lord of Bats rose to his feet, gestured casually toward a point high above their heads.
"I see that your bath has been drawn," he said, "and that fresh garments were laid out for you while we dined. I shall depart now and allow you to avail yourself of them."
Jack nodded, stood.
A thud occurred beneath the table then, followed by a gibbering sound and a brief, shrill wail. Jack felt his ankle seized. Then he was thrown to the floor.
"Down!" cried the Lord of Bats, circling the table quickly. "Back, I say!"
Scores of bats escaped his cloak and darted toward the thing beneath the table. It shrieked with fright and so tightened its grip upon Jack's ankle that he thought the bones would be pulverized.
He raised himself and began to lean for ward. Then even the pain was insufficient to prevent a moment's paralysis from his revulsion at the sight he beheld.
The hairless member was white, shiny and blotched with blue marks. The Lord of Bats kicked it and the grip was broken; but before it drew away and moved to cross the other arm, shielding the face. Jack caught a glimpse of that lopsided countenance.
It looked like something that had started out to be a man but had never quite made it. It had been stepped on, twisted, had holes poked into the sickly dough of its head-bulge. Bones showed through the transparent flesh of its torso and its short legs were thick as trees, terminating in disk-shaped pads from which dozens of long toes hung like roots or worms. Its arms were longer than its entire body. It was a crushed slug, a thing that had been frozen and thawed before it was fully baked. It was-