" Just catching up on my sleep. Many thanks for the use of your celery." Lan vaulted out and glanced up. Krek perched on the edge of the roof, peering at him.
The driver followed Lan' s gaze, saw Krek, then turned back to the human.
" Get out of here."
" My friend, too?" Lan asked, indicating Krek.
" Your friend, too."
This took Lan by surprise. Most people reacted strongly to the sight of an eight- foot- tall spider, especially one preparing to spring on their heads. The driver didn' t even cringe.
Krek said amiably, " Thank you for the ride, sir. It was most pleasant."
The driver scowled and pushed Lan aside to begin unloading. Lan nodded to Krek to leave.
Outside the shipping area, Lan said, " Odd he didn' t comment on you."
" Yes, it is odd," agreed Krek. " One does not often see a Webmaster this far from the mountains."
Lan shook his head and started walking. After a half- hour he assured himself this was Dicca. It had taken only ten seconds to convince him that an election was imminent. Posters flared, shimmered, and changed form before his eyes, giving animated testimonials for the candidates. He even stopped to listen to one candidate haranguing a small crowd outside his headquarters.
" The current Lord of the Twistings is cheating you, yes, cheating you!" the man screamed. " He fails to give you the utter finest. Can he do this?" A small circus of bizarre creatures appeared out of thin air and began to perform.
" Can' t see in the back!" called out one of the spectators on the fringe of the crowd.
" You can' t see what the Lord gives you, either. But remember this well, Jonrod the Flash will give it to you!"
The tiny animals grew in size, expanding, exploding until the smallest was as large as Krek. The crowd stood and watched the illusory antics while Lan watched the crowd. The man in the rear who had complained about not seeing edged around and talked quietly with Jonrod. Money changed hands. Lan shook his head. The man had been a shill, asking the proper questions on cue. Jonrod hurried back to the front of the crowd just as his images faded.
" That isn' t all I can give you. I promise first- rate images every single day. What other candidate goes that far? None, none but Jonrod the Flash."
" Let' s go," Lan said to Krek. " Politics bores me. It' s always the same, no matter the world. Promise the sky, deliver dirt."
" I find the illusions amusing," said the spider. " Somewhat insubstantial, but amusing."
" You' re seeing them differently than I am. I' d swear they were real if I didn' t know better. Maybe the truck driver thought you were an illusion and that' s why he didn' t react."
" An illusion? I, Krek of the Crags? Absurd."
They walked along the street, hardly aware of the difference between reality and image. Lan marvelled that Dicca could survive in this fashion. Jonrod the Flash promised free illusions- in return for voting for him. Others offered fine illusions for sale. One of these stores Lan entered.
" Good sir, how may I aid you?" asked the oily clerk from behind a large desk.
" You sell illusions. I' d like to see what you have in stock."
" In stock?" the clerk parroted, as if Lan had committed a major faux pas. " Illusorium Unlimited tailors illusions. We cater exclusively to the: best of clientele."
" I understand. I' m able to conjure a bit myself." Lan stepped back and chanted his minor fire spell. Fat blue sparks leaped from finger to finger, then jetted upward in pyrotechnic magnificence. He' d known this spell for many years, having been taught it when he was barely in his teens.
" I see," said the clerk dryly, obviously unimpressed. " That one, the one behind you, that' s a more difficult illusion."
Lan turned to see Krek hunkered down behind him. He smiled and said, " That? That' s nothing."
" Well, perhaps we can do business. I' m not adverse to trading illusions. I have a market for one such as that. Knokno over in the park is always looking for: oddities."
" Oddities?" bellowed Krek. " Who are you calling an oddity?"
Lan motioned the arachnid back.
" Nicely done," said the clerk. " Would you be interested in trading for, say, a forty- foot alligator? No? Here' s one that will make you the life of any party."
Lan involuntarily stepped back. A chasm opened in front of him, a large panther pacing at the bottom of the pit.
" Yes, that' d be a million laughs at one of my parties," Lan said. " Really, I' m more interested in one of those." He pointed to a grey- clad soldier marching along the street.
" That' s no illusion," said the clerk, his mood shifting. " I wish it were."
" Oh?" Lan felt he skirted the verge of information.
" The Lord of the Twistings says it amuses him allowing them to keep the peace. A spitting nuisance, I say." The man pressed one soft white hand to his lips. " I' m sorry. I shouldn' t have used such profanity."
" Which of the candidates for Lord of the Twistings opposes the soldiers?"
" None openly. I understand Jonrod is unwilling to allow them to continue on if he is elected, but then Jonrod is adversely inclined toward anyone supporting the law, if you catch the meaning."
" He and the law are on uneasy terms."
" Exactly." Shifting back into his sales pitch, the clerk asked, " Which do you like, the panther pit or the alligator? I' ll trade either for the spider."
" Do you rent?" Lan asked facetiously. The clerk stiffened.
" If you' re looking for Fine Rooms, I suggest down south on Lossal, past the markets."
" Fine Rooms?"
" Brothels, low- born."
The clerk' s tone left no room for misinterpreting the fact that he desired Lan and his " illusion" out of the store. Lan quickly left, Krek trailing along behind.
" Oddity, indeed," sniffed Krek. " What an odious little man that was."
" It sounds as if Diccans mix magic with their sex," observed Lan. " That was what I took him to mean about ' Fine Rooms.' "
" Imagine comparing me to something like that." The spider sniffed and stalked off, leaving Lan to stare in amazement at a gelatinous cube wobbling down the center of the street. Krek had something there. Being compared with such an amorphous blob would damage one' s ego. He hurried to follow the spider.
" This is the damnedest place I' ve ever seen. I can hardly keep illusion and reality separate."
" It is not that difficult, friend Lan Martak," said the spider. " The illusions waver slightly and always appear slightly translucent. It is quite simple."
" To your eyes, not to mine." He' d found Lossal Boulevard, more out of curiosity than anything else, and seen the signs for Fine Rooms. While the proprietors of most shops selling hard commodities refused to talk openly about the Fine Rooms, Lan learned that all of Lossal was abuzz with a scheme one of them ran.
" A diorama," said one man in low, conspiratorial tones. " Luister len- Larrotti exchanges sex with the woman- or man- of your choice in whatever setting you desire. A most difficult illusion. And he charges for it."
" Where is this len- Larrotti?" Lan asked.
" Oh, good sir, you should avoid a place like that. Luister lenLarrotti will rob you, if he can."
" I' d like to see what' s setting up all the furor." Lan honestly did wish to see the window described to him with the wanton in the window performing for those in the streets, but more intimately giving the paying customer a hint of paradise. Anything as talked about in a city bored with common images had to be special.
" He' s down the street, south of Mittervault Avenue," the man finally said. " But don' t tell anyone I even know where his spittin' Fine Rooms are."
" Fine Rooms are something magical, aren' t they?"
" You pay extra. Len- Larrotti must be doing very well. He paid off his loan to Odissan."