I filled my mouth again and swallowed. “This is enough. Yes, I am very hungry.”

“Good,” he said, and turning away from the windows went to the wall at one side of the chamber. When I neared it, I saw that it, at least, was not (as I had thought) plain stone. Instead, it seemed a kind of crystal, or thick, smoky glass; through it I could see loaves and many strange dishes, as still and perfect as food in a painting.

“You have a talisman of power,” Typhon told me. “Now you must give it to me, so that we can open this cupboard.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean. Do you want my sword?”

“I want the thing you wear at your neck,” he said, and stretched out a hand for it. I stepped back. “There is no power in it.”

“Then you lose nothing. Give it to me.” As Typhon spoke, Piaton’s head moved almost imperceptibly from side to side. “It is only a curio,” I said. “Once I thought it had great power, but when I tried to revive a beautiful woman who was dying, it had no effect, and yesterday it could not restore the boy who traveled with me. How did you know of it?”

“I was watching you, of course. I climbed high enough to see you well. When my ring killed the child and you went to him, I saw the sacred fire. You don’t have to actually put it in my hand if you don’t want to — just do what I tell you.”

“You could have warned us, then,” I said. “Why should I? At that time you were nothing to me. Do you want to eat or not?”

I took out the gem. After all, Dorcas and Jonas had seen it, and I had heard the Pelerines had displayed it in a monstrance on great occasions. It lay on my palm like a bit of blue glass, all fire gone.

Typhon leaned over it curiously. “Hardly impressive. Now kneel.”

I knelt.

“Repeat after me: I swear by all this talisman represents that for the food I shall receive, I shall be the creature of him I know as Typhon, evermore—”

A snare was closing beside which Decuman’s net was a primitive first attempt. This one was so subtle I scarcely knew it was there, and yet I sensed that every strand was of hard-drawn steel.

“—rendering to him all I have and all I shall be, what I own now and what I shall own in days to come, living or dying at his pleasure.”

“I have broken oaths before,” I said. “If I took it, I should break that one.”

“Then take it,” he said. “It is no more than a form we must follow. Take it, and I can release you as soon as you have finished eating.”

I stood instead. “You said you loved truth. Now I see why — it is truth that binds men.” I put the Claw away.

If I had not done so, it would have been lost forever a moment later. Typhon seized me, pinning my arms to my sides so I could not draw Terminus Est, and ran with me to one of the windows. I struggled, but it was as a puppy struggles in the hands of a strong man.

As we approached it, the great size of the window made it seem not a window at all; it was as though a part of the outer world had intruded itself into the chamber, and it was a part consisting not of the fields and trees at the mountain’s base, which was what I had expected, but of mere extension, a fragment of the sky. The chamber’s rock wall, less than a cubit thick, floated backward at the corner of my vision like the muddled line we see, swimming with open eyes, that is the demarcation between the water and the air.

Then I was outside. Typhon’s hold had shifted to my ankles, but whether because of the thickness of my boots or merely because of my panic, for a moment I felt I was not held at all. My back was to the mass of the mountain. The Claw, in its soft bag, dangled below my head, held by my chin. I remember feeling a sudden, absurd fear that Terminus Est would slip from her sheath.

I pulled myself up with my belly muscles, as a gymnast does when he hangs from the bar by his feet. Typhon released one of my ankles to strike my mouth with his fist, so that I fell back again. I cried out, and tried to wipe my eyes clear of the blood trickling into them from my lips.

The temptation to draw my sword, raise myself again, and strike with it was almost too great to resist. Yet I knew that I could not do so without giving Typhon ample time to see what I intended and let me fall. Even if I succeeded, I would die.

“I urge you now…” Typhon’s voice came above me, seeming distant in that golden immensity. “…to require of your talisman such help as it can provide you.”

He paused, and every moment seemed Eternity itself.

“Can it aid you?”

I managed to call, “No.”

“Do you understand where you are?”

“I saw. On the face. The mountain autarch.”

“It is my face — did you see that? I was the autarch. It is I who come again. You are at my eyes, and it is the iris of my right eye that is to your back. Do you comprehend? You are a tear, a single black tear I weep. In an instant, I may let you fall away to stain my garment. Who can save you, Talisman-bearer?”

“You. Typhon.”

“Only I?”

“Only Typhon.”

He pulled me back up, and I clung to him as the boy had once clung to me, until we were well inside the great chamber that was the cranial cavity of the mountain.

“Now,” he said, “we will make one more attempt. You must come with me to the eye again, and this time you must go willingly. Perhaps it will be easier for you if we go to the left eye instead of the right.”

He took my arm. I suppose I could be said to have gone by my own will, since I walked; but I think I have never in my life walked with less heart. It was only the memory of my recent humiliation that kept me from refusing. We did not halt until we stood upon the very rim of the eye; then with a gesture, Typhon forced me to look out. Below us lay an ocean of undulating cloud, blue with shadow where it was not rose with sunlight.

“Autarch,” I said, “how are we here, when the vessel in which we rode plunged down so long a tunnel?”

He shrugged my question aside. “Why should gravity serve Urth, when it can serve Typhon? Yet Urth is fair. Look! You see the robe of the world. Is it not beautiful?”

“Very beautiful,” I agreed.

“It can be your robe. I have told you that I was autarch on many worlds. I shall be autarch again, and this time on many more. This world, the most ancient of all, I made my capital. That was an error, because I lingered too long when disaster came. By the time I would have escaped, escape was no longer open to me — those to whom I had given control of such ships as could reach the stars had fled in them, and I was besieged on this mountain. I shall not make that mistake again. My capital will be elsewhere, and I will give this world to you, to rule as my steward.”

I said, “I have done nothing to deserve so exalted a position.”

“Talisman-bearer, no one, not even you, can require me to justify my acts. Instead, view your empire.”

Par below us, a wind was born as he spoke. The clouds seethed under its lash and gathered themselves like soldiers into serried ranks moving eastward. Beneath them I saw mountains, and the coastal plains, and beyond the plains the faint, blue line of the sea.

“Look!” Typhon pointed, and as he did so, a pinprick of light appeared in the mountains to the northeast. “Some great energy weapon has been used there,” he said. “Perhaps by the ruler of this age, perhaps by his foes. Whichever it may be, its location is revealed now, and it will be destroyed. The armies of this age are weak. They will fly before our flails as chaff at the harvest.”

“How can you know all this?” I asked. “You were as dead, until my son and I came upon you.”

“Yes. But I have lived almost a day and have sent my thought into far places. There are powers in the seas now who would rule. They will become our slaves, and the hordes of the north are theirs.”

“What of the people of Nessus?” I was chilled to the bone; my legs trembled under me.