“But why would he go to Prygg?” asked Gwendolyn. She peered closely at Wolfgang.
“It’s time for some answers, you lunatic. You’ve been keeping things from me.”
Wolfgang looked aggrieved. “My dear Gwendolyn!” He began rolling his eyes wildly.
“Cut out the act, Wolfgang!” she snarled. “Who is this wizard, anyway? And why is everyone so interested in him? Including you!”
“Me?”
Gwendolyn waved at the chamber. “This hidey-hole. This wasn’t put here by the wizard. Look at the scale of the chamber—and that tunnel. This was built by you. Why?”
Wolfgang coughed, then smiled. “Can’t put a thing past you, can I? Well, yes, actually I built this chamber so I could keep an eye on the wizard. Built it years ago. Zulkeh’s never known about it. The room beyond—the one which these holes enable you to listen to—that’s the wizard’s study.”
“Why?” demanded Gwendolyn fiercely. “What’s so damned important about this sorcerer? You said yourself he was just a pedant.”
Wolfgang looked hurt. “I said nothing of the sort. I said he was the world’s greatest pedant, that’s true. But I never said he was just a pedant. Dear me, no! Ridiculous!”
Gwendolyn threw up her hands. “Enough. Enough! I’ll never get any sense out of you. And I don’t care, anyway. I’ll let lunatics like you worry about the legendary Joe. I’ve got real things to worry about—real enemies, and real comrades, and real struggles. And I’ve wasted enough of my time already. The wizard’s gone to Prygg—let him go! I’m not chasing after him. I’ve got to get back to the Mutt. The Ozarines with a Rap Sheet here in Grotum will wreak havoc. I’ve got to get the warning out—and quick.”
She rose, like a tiger, and turned to the tunnel. Then stopped abruptly.
“Where does this tunnel lead to, anyway?”
“Where else?” giggled Wolfgang. “To my secret door. But, Gwendolyn, will you please stop long enough to think?”
He raised his hands, as if to fend off the blow of her glare.
“Please, my dear, please! I’m not trying to talk you out of your plans. Forget the wizard—by all means! It’s no problem, anyway. I’ve had a hankering to visit Prygg again. It’s Magrit, you know.” He smirked, for all the world like a schoolboy. “She and I are quite the item! Such a passionate witch!”
He coughed. “Well, enough of that. The point is, I’ll follow the wizard. But if you want to warn your people, you first have to get out of Goimr. The police will be everywhere. You heard Benvenuti—they’ll be watching every gate. You’re rather a noticeable woman, you know? How do you think you’ll get out?”
Gwendolyn frowned. “Well, I hadn’t really thought about it. I just walked in, I thought I’d just walk out.”
“If I might make a suggestion, and”—here he cackled—”if you can manage to overcome your anti-Ozarine prejudices for a moment, I believe that Benvenuti might be the solution to your problem.”
He turned to me. “Tell me, my boy, have you given any thought to your future?”
It took me a moment to grasp his meaning.
“No, I hadn’t. Not really. My original plans seem to have fallen through.”
“I should say! Idiotic plans, to begin with. Imagine. Wanting to be the Royal Artist of Goimr!”
He and Gwendolyn both burst into a fit of laughter. Now that I’d experienced Goimr, I admit I found it impossible not to laugh myself.
“You see, Gwendolyn?” demanded Wolfgang. “Just as I said! A marvelous young man! The perfect traveling companion for you.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“Don’t you see? It’s perfect! For both of you. Benvenuti has a letter vouching for him, signed by Chief Counselor Gerard. That’ll get him through the gates with no questions asked. As for himself, the sooner he shakes the mud of this wretched city off his boots, the better.”
He smiled at me. A wonderful smile he had, actually, if you left aside its demented aura.
“The place for an aspiring young artist, my boy, is New Sfinctr! There’s the ticket! Oh, it’s a horribly wicked city, I admit. ‘The pesthole of the planet,’ they call it. But exciting! Alive! Vigorous! Just the place for you. But your problem, of course, is how to get there. It’s all the way across Grotum. You’ll have to traverse forests, mountains—the Groutch wilderness. On your own, you’d lose your way. Lose your life, no doubt. But with Gwendolyn as your guide, it’ll be a Sunday stroll, near enough.”