Mentor Ull continued ponderously, “You see yourself how the words of a dishonest man can serve to expand knowledge. Do you have doubts what truly caused the downfall of the Chimerae? Or who? Sarmento i Illa d’Or of the Hermetic Order woke periodically from slumber to addict a whole generation of Chimera serfs to an advanced range of recreational pharmaceuticals, perhaps constructed using Monument mathematical tools of analytical biochemistry. Such addiction, subverting reason, made the spread of some hedonistic philosophy like that of the Naturalists to be inevitable.”

“How much do you know of the Hermeticists?” asked Menelaus of Ull, staring intently.

Ull waved his hand dismissively at Menelaus, ignoring the question. “For us, there is another question pending, and more pressing: Ask him what the Judge of Ages looks like, and where in the Tombs, on what level he is interred.”

Menelaus passed along the question and translated the answer.

“Larz says that the Judge of Ages is a man of middle height, with dark hair going gray at the temples, with penetrating dark eyes, slanted in the normal fashion, and his skin is medium-dark, his lips full and his face is roundish. Larz describes him as a man of immense dignity and personal magnetism, ‘majestic’ is the word he used. Larz says the Judge has small, almost feminine hands. He is economical in his body language, not given to extravagant gestures, and is somewhat stern and curt in his speech, and he has no sense of humor. He wears the traditional costume of a judge: long red robes trimmed with white and girdled with black, a shoulder-length white wig, a scarlet tippet, and a black cloth sentence-cap above that to show that the death penalty is imposed on any time period found displeasing to him.”

Ull said, “What is that snorting noise you are making?”

Illiance said, “He is laughing at us.”

Menelaus said, “No, gentlemen. Not at all. Uh-aha. Uh. I just had, a strand of celery, from uh, breakfast, stuck up my nose, and I had to clear my, um, sinuses to get it out. Why should I laugh? Is there anything remotely amusing in the, ah, mental environment?”

Illiance looked at Menelaus narrowly. “You suspect that Larz of Gutter is practicing a deception?”

“I do indeed, and he needs a lot more practice. Unless you think the Judge of Ages wears a long white wig?”

Ull said in his slow, grave voice, “Be not in haste to assume! The ways of the relicts from the Ere-now are strange to us. Our records do indeed show that the Judge of Ages passed the bar and practiced law. He may have a right to the costume of the judicial caste from his time and home. Also, there is a legend that his early attempt at intelligence augmentation disorganized his wits. Perhaps he has grown eccentric, or engages in unexpected antics!”

Menelaus seemed suddenly more sober. He nodded and stroked his chin. “You are right. He probably does not do normal, sane and ordinary things, like paint himself blue and rob coffins, and build houses like seashells without doors or windows or any way to keep the wind out.”

Illiance spoke in a voice of mild surprise, “But we did not raise these structures. We don’t know what purpose they serve.”

Ull snapped, “Achieve silence! Simplicity designates that we are here to gather, not to extrude, information!” He turned to Menelaus. “What of the remaining question?”

Menelaus talked with Larz, nodding thoughtfully, and with something of a stiff bow, said, “Gentlemen! Your search is ended! Kine Larz of Gutter says he knows exactly where the Judge of Ages is buried, on what level, and can tell you the markings by which his coffin can be distinguished from ordinary coffins. He furthermore offers his services, as an expert in bypassing alarms and traps and automatic defenses, to infiltrate a team of your choosing past the buried gates.”

The Blue Men showed a pleased, if muted, reaction: Ull nodded with solemn satisfaction, and the triplets murmured one to the next in whispered excitement.

Only Illiance was doubtful, and gazed up at Menelaus with narrowed eyes. But Menelaus had pulled his hood up, and nothing could be seen aside from the big hook nose and the sardonic, thin-lipped mouth. Illiance was unable to read his expression.

Menelaus leaned toward Illiance. “I gotta use the latrine.”

11

The Coming of the Witches

1. The Gems

The Blue Men were still human enough to honor the need for privacy during evacuation of the bowels. They were not so deferential as to allow for a lack of security, however. In the little shack, walled with tent material, built over the deep ditch that served as a privy, there was an open panel facing the wood where a dog thing, pomander held to its nose and one paw on its cutlass, could watch Menelaus squatting over the ditch, buttocks turning blue in the cold, in case he tried anything untoward.

Fortunately, Menelaus could keep the bulk of his tent-material robes between his hands and the eyes of the dog thing, and that worthy canine had not been instructed to be wary of radio waves issuing from prisoners in the privy.

Menelaus had also taken the precaution of asking the breakfast coffins in the mess tent to make him a particularly noxious combination of foodstuffs for breakfast. Based on Mickey’s description of how the nasal tissue cultures in these Moreaus were designed to react to specific odorant molecules, Menelaus had calculated how to have his bowels produce a particularly foetid excretion. He was gratified to see the dog thing, ears drooping, back several large steps away.

Montrose held seven of the logic crystals Illiance had worn on his coat: jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, beryl, and the seventh gem was a white oblong that looked like diamond. Fortunately, they were compatible at a base level with the circuitry in the tent material.

Since the apparent purpose of the gem display was to show reliance on the surrounding energy signal traffic, Menelaus concluded that the coats more thickly begemmed would be the ones with simpler circuits, hence simpler to hex.

Of course, the Blue Man technology was sure to come to the attention of the Blue Men scanning equipment at some point. However, all the Blue Men and dog things were pacing solemnly or barking and trotting friskily here and there throughout their encampment, gathering gear and preparing for the assault on the Tomb door. Menelaus estimated between thirteen and seventeen minutes’ transmission time before the signals were found.

The base language of the logic gems was the same as that of the dog thing voice boxes. His implants responded with a toothache and a cacophony of noise in the auditory nerves of his skull.

“Texas Horndog calling Jumbo Jugs. Texas Horndog to Jumbo Jugs. Come in. Come in. Do you read me? What’s your twenty?”

He was gratified when the response came immediately. Oenoe must have been sleeping with the signal board in her hands. She was as skilled as a harpist when it came to the board, which could produce a passable impersonation of her voice and pass it directly as radio pulses to his implants, which then needed only to trigger the corresponding neural stimulus in his ear. It was just like speaking, although nothing aloud was said.

“Beloved, my loins rejoice that my ears are caressed by your love-words. My twenty what? Your speech is obscure, and hinders the speech-joy. Have I not erenow bemoaned this?”

“Sorry. Next time I’ll use a cleaner callsign. I’ll be Chubb and you’ll be Chubbies. Plan A: Can you open the main doors from the inside to let us in?”

“No, Your Honor. The door mind will not respond to any of the words of command you gave us.”

“Damnation. That is a real bad sign. I had hoped the local nodes were not infected.”