The land on either side seemed pleasant, consisting of beaches and wooded hills, though there were no signs of habitation.
As they neared the source of the light, it began to fade until only a faint glow filled the sky and the boat's speed diminished. They still sailed directly towards the light. They saw it, then, and were amazed…
It was a city of such grace and beauty it robbed them of speech. As huge as Londra, if not larger, its buildings were symmetrical spires and domes and turrets, all glowing with the same strange light, but coloured in delicate, pale shades that lurked behind the goldpink, yellow, blue, green, violet and ceriselike a painting created in light and then washed with gold. Its magnificent beauty did not seem a proper habitation for human creatures, but for gods.
Now the ship sailed into a harbour stretching out from the city, its quays shifting with the same subtle shades of the buildings.
"It is like a dream…" Hawkmoon murmured.
"A dream of heaven." D'Averc's cynicism had vanished before the vision.
The little boat drifted to a set of steps that led down to the water, which was dappled with the reflections of the colours, and came to a halt.
D'Averc shrugged. "I suppose this is where we disembark. The boat could have borne us to a less pleasant place."
Hawkmoon nodded gravely and then said: "Are the Rings of Myggan still in your pouch, D'Averc?"
D'Averc patted his pouch. "They are safe. Why?"
"I wanted to know that if the danger was too great for us to face with our swords and there was time to use the rings, we could use them."
D'Averc nodded his understanding and then his forehead creased. "Strange that we did not think of using them on the island…"
Hawkmoon's face showed his astonishment. "Ayeaye…" And then he pursed his lips in disgust. "Doubtless that was the result of supernatural interference with our brains! How I hate the supernatural!"
D'Averc merrily put his fingers to his lips and put on an expression of mock disapproval. "What a thing to say in a city such as this!"
"Ayewell, I hope its inhabitants are as pleasant as its appearance."
"If it has any inhabitants," replied D'Averc glancing around him.
Together they climbed the steps and reached the quayside. The strange buildings were ahead of them and between the buildings ran wide streets.
"Let's enter the city," Hawkmoon said resolutely, "and find out why we have been taken here as soon as we can. Then, perhaps, we shall be allowed to return to Castle Brass!"
Entering the nearest street, it seemed to them that the shadows cast by the buildings actually glowed with a life and a colour of their own. At close hand the tall towers were hardly tangible and when Hawkmoon reached out to touch one the substance of it was unlike anything he had touched before. It was not stone and it was not timber; not steel even, for it gave slightly under his fingers and made them tingle. He was also surprised by the warmth that ran through his arm and suffused his body.
He shook his head. "It is more like flesh than stone!"
D'Averc reached out now and was equally astonished. "Ayeor like vegetation of some kind. Organicliving stuff!"
They moved on. Every so often the long streets would broaden out into squares. They crossed the squares, choosing another street at random, looking up at the building which gave the appearance of infinite height, which disappeared into the strange, golden haze.
Their voices were hushed; they feared to disturb the silence of the great city.
"Have you noticed," murmured Hawkmoon, "that there are no windows?"
"And no doors." D'Averc nodded. "I am certain that this city was not built for human useand that humans did not build it!"
"Perhaps some beings created in the Tragic Millennium," Hawkmoon suggested. "Beings like the Wraith Folk of Soryandum."
D'Averc nodded his head in agreement.
Now ahead of them the strange shadows seemed to gather closer together and they passed into them, an impression of great well-being overcoming them. Hawkmoon smiled in spite of his fears, and D'Averc, too, answered his smile. The glowing shadows swam around them. Hawkmoon began to wonder if perhaps these shadows were, in fact, the inhabitants of the city.
They passed out of the street and stood in a huge square without doubt the very centre of the city. Rising from the middle of this square was a cylindrical building. In spite of being the largest building in the city it also seemed the most delicate. Its walls moved with coloured light and Hawkmoon noticed something at its base.
"Look, D'Avercsteps leading to a door!"
"What should we do, I wonder," whispered his friend.
Hawkmoon shrugged. "Enter, of course. What have we to lose?"
"Perhaps we shall discover the answer to that question within. After you, Duke of Koln!"
The two mounted the steps and climbed until they reached the doorway. It was relatively smallof human size in fact and within it they could see more of the glowing shadows.
Hawkmoon stepped bravely forward with D'Averc immediately behind him.
Chapter Six
Jehamia Cohnahlias
THEIR FEET SEEMED to sink into the floor and the glowing shadows wrapped themselves around them as they advanced into the scintillating darkness of the tower.
A sweet sound now filled the corridorsa gentle sound like an unearthly lullaby. The music increased their sense of well-being. They pressed deeper into the strangely organic construction.
And then suddenly they stood in a small room, full of the same golden, pulsing radiance they had seen earlier from the boat.
And the radiance came from a child.
He was a boy, of oriental appearance, with a soft, brown skin, clad in robes on to which jewels had been stitched so that the fabric was completely hidden.
He smiled and his smile matched the gentle radiance surrounding him. It was impossible not to love him.
"Duke Dorian Hawkmoon von Koln," he said sweetly, bowing his head, "and Huillam D'Averc. I have admired both your painting and your buildings, sir."
D'Averc was astonished. "You know of those?"
"They are excellent. Why do you not do more?"
D'Averc coughed in embarrassment. "II lost the knack, I suppose. And then the war…"
"Ah, of course. The Dark Empire. That is why you are here."
"I would gather so"
"I am called Jehamia Cohnahlias." The boy smiled again. "And that is the only direct information about myself I can offer you, in case you were going to ask me anything further. This city is called Dnark and its inhabitants are called in the outer world The Great Good Ones. You have encountered some of them already, I believe."
"The glowing shadows?" Hawkmoon asked.
"Is that how you perceive them?"
"Are they sentient?" Hawkmoon queried.
"They are indeed. More than sentient, perhaps."
"And this city, Dnark," Hawkmoon said. "It is the legendary City of the Runestaff."
"It is."
"Strange that all those legends should place its position not on the continent of Amarehk, but in Asiacommunista, said D'Averc.
"Perhaps it is not a coincidence," smiled the boy. "It is convenient to have such legends."
"I understand."
Jehamia Cohnahlias smiled quietly.
"You have come to see the Runestaff, I gather?"
"Apparently," said Hawkmoon, unable to feel anger in the presence of the child. "First the Warrior in Jet and Gold told us to come here and then when we demurred we were introduced to his brotherone Orland Fank…"
"Ah, yes," smiled Jehamia Cohnahlias. "Orland Fank. I have a special affection for that particular servant of the Runestaff. Well, let us go." He frowned slightly. "Ah, first you will want to refresh yourselves and meet a fellow traveller. One who preceded you here by only a matter of hours."