“What rules?”
“Who can say? Not I. I am only a growing tower of sentient lumber. My staff may comfort you, however. Planted, it may blossom in strange climes. Then again, it may not. Who can say? Bear it with you, however, son of Oberon, into the place where you journey now. I feel a storm approaching. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” I said. “Thank you.”
I turned and walked on down the trail into the deepening fog. The pinkness was drained from it as I went. I shook my head as I thought about the tree, but its staff proved useful for the next several hundred meters, where the going was particularly rough.
Then things cleared a bit. Rocks, a stagnant pool, some small, dreary trees festooned with ropes of moss, a smell of decay . . . hurried by. A dark bird was watching me from one of the trees.
It took wing as I regarded it, flapping in a leisurely fashion in my direction. Recent events having left me a little bird-shy, I drew back as it circled my head. But then it fluttered to rest on the trail before me, cocked its head and viewed me with its left eye.
“Yes,” it announced then. “You are the one.”
“The one what?” I said.
“The one I will accompany. You’ve no objection to a bird of ill omen following you, have you, Corwin?” It chuckled then, and executed a little dance.
“Offhand, I do not see how I can stop you. How is it that you know my name?”
“I’ve been waiting for you since the beginning of Time, Corwin.”
“Must have been a bit tiresome.”
“It has not been all that long, in this place. Time is what you make of it.”
I resumed walking. I passed the bird and kept going. Moments later, it flashed by me and landed atop a rock off to my right.
“My name is Hugi,” he stated. “You are carrying a piece of old Ygg, I see.”
“Ygg?”
“The stuffy old tree who waits at the entrance to this place and won’t let anyone rest on his branches. I’ll bet he yelled when you whacked it off.”
He emitted peals of laughter then.
“He was quite decent about it.”
“I’ll bet. But then, he hadn’t much choice once you’d done it. Fat lot of good it will do you.”
“It’s doing me fine,” I said, swinging it lightly in his direction.
He fluttered away from it.
“Hey! That was not funny!” I laughed.
“I thought it was.” I walked on by.
For a long while, I made my way through a marshy area. An occasional gust of wind would clear the way nearby. Then I would pass it, or the fogs would shift over it once again. Occasionally, I seemed to hear a snatch of music-from what direction, I could not tell-slow, and somewhat stately, produced by a steel-stringed instrument..
As I slogged along, I was hailed from somewhere to my left:
“Stranger! Halt and regard me!”
Wary, I halted. Couldn’t see a damned thing through that fog, though.
“Hello,” I said. “Where are you?”
Just then, the fogs broke for a moment and I beheld a huge head, eyes on a level with my own. They belonged to what seemed a giant body, sunk up to the shoulders in a quag. The head was bald, the skin pale as milk, with a stony texture to it. The dark eyes probably seemed even darker than they really were by way of contrast.
“I see,” I said then. “You are in a bit of a fix. Can you free your arms?”
“If I strain mightily,” came the reply.
“Well, let me check about for something stable you can grab onto. You ought to have a pretty good reach there.”
“No. That is not necessary.”
“Don’t you want to get out? I thought that was why you hollered.”
“Oh, no. I simply wanted you to regard me.”
I moved nearer and stared, for the fog was beginning to shift again.
“All right,” I said. “I have seen you.”
“Do you feel my plight?”
“Not particularly, if you will not help yourself or accept help.”
“What good would it do me to free myself?”