PART VII
In Which We Return to
My Ancestors’ Chronicle, of Which,
Joyful to Relate, Remains Extant All Portions
Retelling of the Sorcerer’s Adventures in the Famed
Oasis, But in Which, Due to Sad Circumstances
Soon To Be Related, those Portions Recounting the
Journey From the Famed Oasis to Prygg
Exist Only in Truncated and
Misshapen Form.
CHAPTER VII.
A Difficult Decision Made—Yet Failure Withal. The Dwarf’s Quandary. The Serendipitous Results Thereof. The Wizard’s Praise. The Wizard’s Reproof. Our Heroes’ Fortune Restored!
As the coach for Prygg did not depart the Caravanserai for two more days, ’twas necessary for wizard and apprentice to obtain lodgings. Fortunately, in the cursed highwayman’s bemusement at Shelyid’s unexpected tale, he had not thought to inspect the gnome’s person. Thus did Shelyid retain the shilling in his waistband, this being the annual allowance permitted to him by his master. The coin proved just sufficient to cover the cost of a small room at the inn for two nights.
Exhausted by the journey, Shelyid curled up on his pallet and promptly fell asleep. Not so the thaumaturge, who was—any fool could see it!—engulfed in a humor both sour and bleak. He paced to and fro until the wee hours of the morn, muttering loud imprecations at the foibles of happenstance, and bringing down many fell oaths, curses, and contumely upon the absent head of a certain Rascogne de Sevigneois. At length, however, this amusement palled, and the wizard fell into silence. Clear it was that he pondered over his present worldly state. As the first light of dawn appeared, he sighed deeply.
“Alas, there is no other way. Shelyid—arise! Arise, I say!”
Grumbling and mumbling, the dwarf rolled over and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“What is it, master?”
“Get up, dwarf. We must discuss our present circumstances, eschewing all pusillanimous melancholy.”
“Yes, master!” exclaimed Shelyid, astonishment writ plain upon his face. Rare indeed were the occasions upon which Zulkeh deigned to discuss their common situation with his apprentice. Unheard of, in fact.
The dwarf now awake and attentive, the mage began his exposition of the problem. “Shelyid, we find ourselves in dire straits—this, the result of our recent calamity. I refer, of course, to the reiving of our funds by that insufferable rogue, that leprous villain, that feculent dastard, that heinous rapscallion, that irremissible scapegrace, that—”
“Rascogne de Sevigneois.”
“I shall thank you not to interrupt me!—caitiff miscreant, that—well, in any event. We have not a copper to our name, not a sou, not a farthing. True, our passage to Prygg is already paid for, but we shall require further monies to obtain provender—food, drink, and such—the which is necessary even for a thaumaturge of my talents and abilities. Do you find yourself in agreement with my diagnosis of our plight?”
“Oh yes, master!” cried Shelyid, pleased beyond compare at his master’s confidence.
“The problem which thus presents itself to us, in all its indignity, is the acquisition of pecuniary resources. This follows, does it not?”
“As night from day, master!” cried Shelyid. Would wonders never cease?
“Fortunately, all is not lost. The Caravanserai is, as you may be aware, notorious not only for its many criminals, prostitutes, and suchlike ethical wantons, but for its enormous traffic in slavery, as well. Indeed, it is the chief slave market of Grotum. The conclusion, I am sure you will agree, is both obvious and inescapable.”
“Oh yes, master!” cried Shelyid, overcome with pleasure at his master’s bonhomie.
“Excellent!” spoke Zulkeh. “It is settled, then. I shall sell you into slavery at the first opportunity—this very day, in fact.”
“Slavery?” shrieked the dwarf. “But—but—no! You can’t, master! I won’t!”
Zulkeh sighed and patted his apprentice’s head. “No, no, good Shelyid, do not quail now at the force of logic. I appreciate your loyalty and can only commend you for your selfless desire to share my perils and travails, ill-equipped though you are for the task. But no—a slave you must be.”
Of the disgraceful scene which followed these stern but stoic words, we shall exercise our narrative responsibility and draw over it a discretionary veil. For in truth, the gnome Shelyid did comport himself in a most unseemly manner, refusing, in flagrant violation of all custom and reason, to accede to his master’s command, even after the forbearant mage had chastised him most soundly. So great, indeed, did Shelyid’s intemperance become, that the wizard was required to bring forth from his sack that fearsome instrument which he employed on those (fortunately, quite rare) occasions in which routine thrashings were of no avail.