Five miles past Crema we saw an entire village destroyed by brigands clad in the hoods of the Holy Inquisition of Spain. They went off with the contents of the church, with all goods of value, with women and with children whom they plainly intended to sell as staves. And those who survived believed, many of them, that they had been visited by Christ's servants and that what had been given up by them had been given up in support of Christ's Cause.
I met few good men on that road. I met many whose honour had turned to pride yet who were contemptuous of me for what they saw as my cynical pragmatism. Bit by bit I had told Sedenko most of my story, for I thought it fair to let him know whom he served. He had shrugged. After what he had witnessed of late, he said, he did not think it mattered a great deal. At least the Quest was holy, even if the men upon it were not.
Beyond Crema we passed again into the Mittelmarch. Save that the seasons were, of course, reversed, the landscape was not greatly different. We were in a kingdom, we discovered, which was the vestige of a Carthaginian Empire which had beaten Rome during Hannibal's famous campaign, conquered all of Europe and parts of Asia and had converted to the Jewish religion, so that the whole world had been ruled by Rabbinical Knights. It was a land so horrifying to Sedenko that he believed he was being punished for his sins and was already in Hell. We were treated hospitably and my engineering experience was called into play when the Chief Judge of this Carthaginian land pronounced a sentence of death upon a Titan. A gallows had to be built for him. In return for aid and some extra gold, I was able to design a suitable scaffold. The Titan was hanged and I received the gratitude of those people forever.
Shortly after this we entered a great, complicated city maintained by an infinite series of balances and relationships whose acute harmony was such that I could not then tolerate it. It was a place of divine abstractions and the citizens were scarcely aware of us at all. Sedenko was not as badly affected as was I, but we were both glad to leave and find ourselves soon in a familiar France near Saint-Etienne where, for some weeks, we were imprisoned as suspected murderers and heretics, released only through the intercession of a priest who had discovered several eyewitnesses. The priest was paid with the Carthaginian gold and we went on our way gladly. Both our own world and the world of the Mittelmarch seemed to have increased in peril, but we moved steadily westward through both, crossing the sea, at last, to England, where we did not fare particularly well.
In England we were regarded by almost everyone with deep suspicion. The nation was full of discontent and any stranger was considered either a Puritan traitor or a Catholic agitator, so we were pleased to leave that country and set sail for Ireland, where there were various small wars afoot. We found ourselves drawn into two such campaigns, once on the side of the Irish and once on the side of the English; Sedenko fell in love and killed the woman's husband when discovered. Thus we left Ireland in some haste and from there set foot, once more, in the Mittelmarch.
We had been on the Quest for almost a year and seemed no closer to the blue-green Forest at the Edge of Heaven, while I had seen much of the world but learned little, I thought, that I had not known already. I longed for my Lady Sabrina, whom I had in no way forgotten. My love for her was as strong as it had ever been.
Sometimes I believed I had caught sight of Klosterheim or that he had revealed his hand in several attacks on our persons, but I could not be sure. It did seem that his warning had been accurate. Fewer and fewer of the lands we visited would welcome us. We began to feel like criminals. The hospitality of even common folk declined. The struggle between Heaven and Hell, the struggle which was taking place in Hell alone, the wars which shook the lands of the Mittelmarch, were all reflected in the strife which tore Europe. There was no end to it. Death and Plague continued to spread. We wondered, should we continue our way west and come at last to the New World, if we should discover any better there. Young Sedenko had taken on a haggard look and seemed ten years older than when we had met. I, apparently, had not much changed in my appearance. I had become familiar with many of the spells in the grimoires and had on occasions used them. Of late, their use had become more frequent. And of late, also, they seemed to have become less effective. I wondered if Hell's Dukes were massing and gaining strength over their Master. In which case, I thought, my Quest and all my efforts were absolutely without meaning.
It was raining in the Mittelmarch, one spring day, at noon. Sedenko and I were drenched and our horses were beginning to steam. We were crossing a wide plain of cracked earth. At intervals on the plain we saw tall pyres burning, sending black smoke low into the sky. The rain pattered on our cloaks and made puddles in the mud. We had encountered and defeated four or five misshapen men who I suspected were Klosterheim's, and I was following my compass which directed us to the way out of Mittelmarch. I was beginning to know a deeper despair than any I had known before, for I suspected my journey had no ending, that a terrible trick had been played upon me.
The pyres were closer together. No mourners stood near them, but upon each one was a heavily wrapped corpse. I wondered if the occupants of those pyres had died of disease. Then I saw a moving figure which was obscured by the smoke and I pointed it out to Sedenko, but the Muscovite could see nothing.
So long had it been since our last encounter with Klosterheim that we had begun to think him gone directly from our sphere, but now I was almost certain that the shadow hi the smoke was the witch-seeker himself. I drew up, raising a cautionary hand to Sedenko, who followed my example. The rain and the smoke continued to make it all but impossible to see any distance.
Eventually we decided to ride on as the rain began to lift and the sun emerged, dark red and huge in the eastern sky.
The smoke gave way to mist rising from the broken earth and we left the pyres behind us, though the plain continued to stretch for miles in all directions.
Sedenko saw the village first. He gestured. Distant metal glittered in the heavy evening light. The houses seemed to be rounded, topped by tittle spires. Coming closer, I saw that they were in actuality leather tents mounted on wheels and decorated with all manner of symbols. The glitter came from their roof-spikes, of gold, bronze and silver inlay.
Sedenko drew in his breath. "Those yurts are a familiar sight!" His hand went to the hilt of his sabre.
"What?" said I. "Are they Tatars?"
"By all the signs, aye."
"Then perhaps we should skirt that camp?" I suggested.
"And lose the chance of killing some of them!" he said, as if I were insane.
"There are likely to be rather more of them, friend Sedenko, than there are of us. I do not think my Master would be pleased if I diverted my time to the cause of genocide…"
Sedenko scowled and muttered. He was like a hound restrained from hunting its natural game.
"Besides," I added, "they are showing a keen interest in ourselves."
A score of horsemen were riding towards us. I spurred my steed into a trot, but Sedenko did not follow me. "I cannot run from a Tatar," he wailed.
I went about and got hold of his reins, dragging him and his horse after me. But the Tatars were moving with astonishing speed and within minutes we were surrounded, staring at their mounts, which were not creatures of flesh at all, but were fashioned from brass. They had dead, staring eyes and creaked a little as they moved. The Tatars, however, were evidently flesh and blood.