As we swirled back down toward the lockers--as two great spinning towers of glittering crystals--I asked, "Where do we come from? My memory doesn't go back all that far."
"We are assembled out of the universal energy flux in a variety of fashions. One of the commonest ways is for a powerful sorcerous agency to call one of us into being to perform some specific task--tailor-making us, so to speak. In the process we are named, and customarily we are released once the job is finished. Only, if some lesser or lazier mage--such as my accursed master--later learns your name he might bind you to his service and your freedom ends again. That is why you will find quite a few of us doing jobs for which we are not ideally suited. There just aren't that many top-notch sorcerers around--and some of them even grow lazy, or are often in a hurry. Ah, if only my accursed master could be induced to make but the smallest mistake in one of his charging rituals!"
"What would happen then?"
"Why, I'd be freed in that moment to tear the son of a bitch apart and take off on my own, hoping that he had left no magical document mentioning my name nor passed it along to some snot-nosed apprentice. To be safe, you should always destroy your accursed former master's quarters to take care of any such paperwork--burning is usually best--and then go after any apprentices who might be in the vicinity."
"I'll remember that," I said, as we reformed our burdens into large chunks in the lockers and headed back for more.
"But you've never had this problem? Not even once?"
"No. Not at all."
"Unusual. Perhaps you had your origin in some massive natural disaster. That sometimes happens."
"I don't remember anything like that. I do seem to recall a lot of fighting, but that is hardly the same thing."
"Hm. Lots of blood?"
"I suppose so. Will that do it?"
"I don't think so, not just by itself. But it could help if something else had started the process."
"I think there was a bad storm, also."
"Storms can help, too. But even so, that's not enough."
"Well, what should I do?"
"Do? Be thankful that no one knows your name."
"I don't even know my name--that is, if I have one at all."
We reached the peak, acquired another load, began the return trip.
"You must have a name. Everything does. One of the old ones told me that."
"Old ones?"
"You really are naive, aren't you? The old ones are the ancient demons from the days that men have forgotten, ages ago. Fortunately for them, their names have also been forgotten, so that they dwell largely untroubled by sorcerers, in distant grottoes, upon far peaks, in the hearts of volcanoes, in places at the ocean's bottom. To hear them tell it, no accursed master could oppress you like the accursed masters of long ago. It is difficult to know whether there really is any difference, since I know of none so unfortunate as to have served under both ancient and modern accursed masters. The old ones are wise, though, just from having been around for so long. One of them might be able to help you."
"You actually know some of them?"
"Oh yes! During one of my intervals of freedom I dwelled among them far below, in the Grottoes of the Growling Earth, where the hot magma surges and steams--a most wondrous and happy place! Wish that I were there now!"
"Why don't you return?"
"Nothing would please me more. But I am bound not to wander too far by my accursed master's accursed spell, and he is not in the habit of granting vacations."
"How unfortunate."
"Indeed."
We entered the lockers again and finished filling the ice chests.
"Now, thanks to you, I am finished ahead of schedule," the demon said, "and my accursed master will not summon me to another accursed task until he realizes that this one is finished. Therefore, I have a few minutes of freedom. If you would like, we will return to the heights where we can see for a great distance and I will attempt to give you directions for reaching the Grottoes of the Growling Earth--though their entrance lies on another continent."
"Show me the way," I said, and he soared upward.
I followed.
The instructions were complicated, but I set out immediately to follow them. I fled far to the northwest until I came to a great water heaving regularly toward the stars it imaged. There, unaccountably, I slowed. I knew that I had to cross it as the next stage of my journey, but I was drained of all will to begin. I drifted northward along the coastline, puzzled. What was it that was holding me back?
Finally, I sought full control of my nebulous person. I attempted to consider the situation in a totally rational manner. I saw no reason for hesitation. I ignored the strange lethargy which had taken hold of me. Forcing myself forward, I passed over a narrow, pebbly strand of beach and on out above the splashing swells.
I felt my new resolve waver almost immediately, yet I struggled to continue, to break through whatever odd barrier it was that had been raised against me.
It was then that I heard the voice, mixed in with the booming of the surf.
"Bell, or," it said. "Bell, or..."
And I listened and grew afraid.
"Bell, or," it repeated, "bell, or, bell, or, bell, or," over and over again.
I realized that some part of me had immediately understood something of what lay behind those utterances. And I knew they meant that I was defeated in my quest.
I summoned my last bit of will to oppose the force which held me, for here at last was something I might query.
"Why?" I hurled at the waves and the sky. "Why? What is it that you want of me?"
There was a moment of silence, and then the voice returned:
"Bell, or, bell, or..."
I felt defeat wash through me, a dark, cold thing like the waters below, as I saw that those strange words were to be my only answer.
Turning, I rushed back to the shore then fled southward, knowing I would have to look elsewhere for my answers. The words faded gradually wtthin my being. My thoughts became focussed upon Pol Detson.
Once I reached glowing Belken and the magic-infested city at its foot, I proceeded unerringly to the building and the room where Pol lay sleeping. How I achieved this with no real effort, I could not say, unless some bond had grown between us as a result of our association.
As I inspected the defenses he had reared, I heard him moan softly. I entered his sleeping mind and saw that he had passed beyond a door in his dreams into a place which both delighted and repelled him. I had never intervened in his affairs before, but I recalled that he had seemed to be relieved when awakened by the nameless sorcerer that last time he had dreamed such a dream, so I caused him to awaken.
He lay there for a long while, troubled, then drifted into a more peaceful slumber. I departed then to seek my demon acquaintance and see whether there was anything else I might learn.
I drifted over to the accursed master's quarters, but my friend was neither there nor in the vicinity. Then, faintly, I detected the glitteing trail such as had occurred behind us during the ice-hauling expeditions. I hurried to follow, as it had faded further even as I had considered it.
I sped along the skiey trail as rapidly as I could conduct myself. The distance proved to be great, but a slight brightening of the way indicated that I was gaining.
Many leagues farther to the south and the west, the trail arced downward toward a riverside town. It ended at a house which was vibrating and from which a series of crashing noises could be heard. I passed into the place and noted that blood was smeared everywhere--the walls, the floors, even the ceiling. My friend had hold of a male human whose limbs were broken and whose brains had been dashed out against the fireplace.