" Welcome, pilgrims," intoned Ehznoll when Krek joined Lan. " You are entitled to a meal with us. If you desire, you may accompany us for we, too, are journeying to the summit of Mount Tartanius."
" For what reason?"
" For the holiest of reasons!" shrieked Ehznoll. He thrust his fist skyward. His followers stopped their activities and dropped to one knee, heads bent, wrists crossed and pressed to their breasts.
" I see," muttered Lan. " Our purposes are likewise noble."
" We go to look down upon the world that has created us. We worship the planet itself. The sky enfolds us, we hunger for dirt beneath our feet. Rejoice, pilgrims, we seek the dagger of the earth ripping asunder the enemy sky!"
A cheer went up from the twenty or so pilgrims. The few whose faces Lan could see had a transcendent expression. Whatever the tenets of this religion, they were totally devout. He didn' t doubt for an instant they' d kill if either he or Krek voiced the slightest skepticism.
" You' ve come far?" asked Lan, hoping to keep Ehznoll talking. That seemed the least risky of his choices. As the man began a long tirade against the sky and for the planet, Lan dismounted and sat beside the fire. A tiny rabbit roasted. He hoped it wasn' t intended to feed all those in camp.
" Across the face of this wonderous orb, spinning through hideous void, I' ve trekked with dirt under my feet, revelling in the sensations of our worshipful host." Ehznoll sat, pulled off his sandals, and displayed his feet for Lan' s approval. It was all he could do to keep from gagging. Ehznoll' s feet were festered with open, running sores. The dirt fell off in small cakes, and the man' s jagged toenails rippled black in the faint campfire light. Lan turned away so that the smell wouldn' t completely sicken him.
" These are my banners of piety. My feet have caressed the holy host and made it part of me." Ehznoll began putting on the sandals again. Lan finally chanced a quick breath. Only the cold, crisp mountain air reached his lungs.
" You venerate all dirt, then?" he asked.
" All," solemnly affirmed Ehznoll.
" Mount Tartanius is certainly a tribute to, uh, dirt," Lan said lamely. He found himself more and more at a loss to carry on the conversation. He knew if he said the wrong thing, Ehznoll would turn on him. The gleam of fanaticism in the man' s eyes ensured that.
" You journey to the very summit, also?"
" We do."
" You are privileged."
" I know."
Ehznoll said nothing more. He went to the nearest tent, pulled back the tattered flap, and crawled inside. Lan shook his head in wonder. The brief glimpse he' d gotten showed no blanket or padding. Ehznoll slept next to the cold earth.
" The tent' s to keep off the sky," supplied the man roasting the rabbit. " We have to stay close to the earth, especially during the hours of darkness. ' Tis easy to become subverted from the True Faith in the black pit of night."
" I can imagine," Lan said uneasily.
" Food?"
" If it' s of the earth," Lan said.
The man shrugged, passed over a charred haunch of rabbit. Lan took it and ate slowly, the grease remaining running down his chin. He wiped it off, rather than wait until after he' d finished. The mere thought of dirt caking to his chin offended him mightily now. He' d have enough filth to contend with the next days as they climbed higher and higher up the slopes of Mount Tartanius.
His eyes turned to the towering mound of rock. It reached to the very vault of the diamond- studded night sky. Up there rested a cenotaph, either a properly consecrated grave without a corpse inside or the Kinetic Sphere, able to shift at random from world to world. Either way, a path to Inyx existed- and a way of stopping Claybore beckoned to him.
Lan finished gnawing on a slender bone, tossed it aside, then curled up next to Krek' s hind legs. The spider gusted a sigh, twitched, then went back to sleep. Lan found the furry berth more reassuring than the spare tents pitched randomly across the slope of the foothills. In seconds, he slept.
" This seems like a poor idea, friend Lan Martak," complained Krek. " I do not know if I can tolerate another moment with these bigots."
" Just because they called you an unbeliever is no reason to get so belligerent."
" I enjoy swinging through space on the end of a properly spun strand. Nothing appeals to me more than to be up on a web, away from the foot- wearying dirt, relishing the freedom of emptiness all about me. How dare they claim I am the child of the demons?"
" Nothing personal, Krek," said Lan, trying to keep from laughing. Try as he might, he failed to hold back a broad smile. " They love their dirt."
" They are filthy."
Lan' s nose twitched as the spider said that. Ehznoll had moved upwind. His body odor only accentuated the spider' s opinion. Bathing violated the tenets of Ehznoll' s religion. The removal of any sort of dirt from the body lessened one' s touch with the godhead. Lan wondered if the spider and these zealots were of a common heritage; without a sense of smell, cleanliness took on a different connotation. Still, Krek valued a clean set of legs, a highly polished abdomen, neatly trimmed mandibles, the entire array of arachnid hygiene.
" Noonday prayers, noonday prayers!" bellowed Ehznoll from ahead.
" We must have located still another hog wallow. Perhaps it was Ehznoll that Kiska female mistook you for. There are definite porcine comparisons to draw between an unclean human and a pig in-"
" Quiet, Krek. Don' t let them hear you. They' re touchy enough."
" Let us push on. Why do we need to remain with such disreputable wights?"
" It' s good camouflage for us. If the grey- clad soldiers come by, they' ll only give this crew a passing glance. We become part of the pilgrimage, we get ignored. And since Ehznoll is heading in the same direction, to the same destination, it' s ridiculous not to join forces. These are dangerous mountains. A group stands a better chance of survival than a mere pair." The spider began to bristle. Lan hurriedly added, " Even when half of the pair is a renowned Webmaster from the Egrii Mountains."
Krek calmed a little, but remained aloof while Ehznoll' s band dropped to the floor of a small ravine and rolled about, rubbing the sand over their bodies. Lan hoped it might cleanse them; if anything, they emerged even more filthy.
Lan sat and rested. Much of the day he' d had to walk beside his mare instead of riding her. The path upward became more and more hazardous. Many times he' d almost twisted an ankle on loose stone. The horse walked more sure- footedly than he did but still had difficulty picking a solid path.
He closed his eyes and let his mind range wide. He drifted, almost falling asleep. In that half- and- half state, he saw a dim figure, a ghostly figure. He reached out. Inyx came forward, fear obvious in her expression. As his hand touched hers, she exploded in an actinic glare that blinded him. Left in her place, just above eye level, floated a skull.
Claybore' s fleshless skull, eye sockets blackened and teeth chipped. The fleshless head turned and sought out Lan. Twin beams of ruby death flicked forth, tentative, unsure, seeking. Lan danced away in that nothingness. Neither he nor the sorcerer was supreme here.
The eye sockets blazed more vividly. Lan averted his gaze to keep from staring directly into the hollows. Instinctively he knew to do so meant death- worse. To be trapped and subjugated to Claybore' s will ranked far worse than death.
" Lan," came the faint voice. " Where are you, Lan? I need you. Please come. Please!" The voice faded away. Inyx spoke to him, and he failed her.
" Inyx!" he cried aloud. " Where are you?"
" What?" came Krek' s voice. " What is wrong?"
" I: nothing." He leaned back against the rock, feeling its cold massiveness sucking his body' s warmth now. Sweat ran down his face. He had seen Claybore in that nothing world. Inside his head, a pressure had built until it felt as if he must burst like the overheated steam boiler on one of the demon- powered cars. Power wasalmost- his. He had felt the magics flowing around them, had touched some of them.