The warlock insane (6 page)

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too late. Pounding feet came thundering up to their thicket. "I see yuh, I see yuh!" bellowed a sub-basso.

"Come on out and fight like a man!"

"Oh, don't be so tiresome!" a more mellow voice said. "They weren't hurting you in the slightest."

"Shut up, goody-goody! Awright, come out with your hands up!" Rod came, sword first.

The monster backed away from the point, its snout wrinkling in consternation. "Hey, now! You ain't supposed to fight back!"

"No more than you can expect," the other voice said.

"You shaddup!"

It was a two-headed monster, like a very fat dragon with a rhinoceros's tail and elephant's feet—and it was puce with yellow polka dots. Rod took one look at it and was certain his hallucinations came courtesy of his subconscious.

"I will not shut up," the other head said. "After all, you're trying to threaten them with my body, too."

" Mybody! You only control the right half!"

"So I do." The right-hand head turned to the two Rods. "I'll have to ask you to pardon this intrusion; I didn't really have much choice in the matter. You can call me 'Dexter.' "

"You don't look very dextrous," the doppelganger pointed out. It didn't, but the right-hand head did have a pleasant, though bothered, look about it, in spite of being mostly snout and teeth. Its companion head, though, managed to have a sneaky, predatory look with exactly the same features. "Don't you dare call me 'Sinister'!" It swiveled to glare at Rod. "I'll bite off your head! I'll roast you alive!"

"It's been tried." For some reason, Rod was taking a dislike to Sinister. He hefted his blade. "If you think you can argue with cold steel, go ahead and try."

"Cold steel! I'll melt that tin toothpick down into slag!" But Sinister didn't seem eager to try.

"I take it you had some reason for coming up to us," the doppelganger said.

"Reason! Yeah! I'm hungry!"

"Now, Sinister," Dexter murmured, "you know we discussed this."

"Disgusted, maybe! Now, look, Dex, you're gonna follow my lead this time, or I'm gonna fry you to a crisp!"

"I'm sorry, Sinister," Dexter said in a very low voice, "but I absolutely will have nothing to do with this charade." He turned to the two Rods. "You really should hurry on by. This can't be very pleasant for you."

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"Right." The doppelganger turned to go.

With a roar, Sinister slapped out the left foot, and the doppelganger leaped back.

"Sinister! You know these people haven't done anything to deserve…"

"They came into my territory, didn't they?" Sinister roared. "They walked down my road, and they didn't even offer to pay for it!"

"Oh!" Rod said, startled. "Did you build the road?"

"Build? What the hell difference does that make? I'm standing on it!"

"I know it's confusing," Dexter said to the doppelganger, "but you really shouldn't let this little scene keep you from…"

"You shut up, jelly-back! If I wanna make these little bastards pay, then…" Dexter winced. "Please! You really have no reason…"

"Reason!" Sinister bellowed. "You want a reason? I'll give you…" Rod caught the doppelganger's eye and nodded toward

Dexter's side. The doppelganger sidled toward him, and together, displaying great interest in the argument, they moved slowly around the right side of the creature. On the other side, Fess whinnied and stamped to distract Sinister.

It almost worked; they almost got past him. But at the last moment, Sinister saw them and bawled,

"Hey! You come back here!" It charged.

"Back!" Rod shouted, and he and the doppelganger sprang away. Not far enough, though—the huge head was soaring toward him, fangs first.

Dexter dug in the right-side legs and shoved back for all he was worth. Sinister's head came to a sudden jarring halt; inertia slammed the great jaws closed an inch from Rod's head.

"Back!" Rod snapped, and jabbed Sinister's nose with the point of his sword. The huge head whipped up with a howl, and Rod lowered his blade, just in time for his arm to start trembling.

"Poor Sinister! Are you hurt?" Dexter cried.

"He maimed me!" the dragon wailed. "He cut me!"

"A pinprick!" Rod snorted.

"Understandable," Dexter said reluctantly, "but unnecessary. He's really quite harmless, though he is a bit of a bully."

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"Bully? I am not! You take that back!"

"Now, Sinister… you know you…"

You'rethe one who's always picking on meV

"I never!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why won't yuh…"

"They were improper in using force after the danger was past, true. Still, you must admit you…"

"Lemme at 'em!"

And Sinister hurtled toward the Rods again. Dexter dug in, of course, and the result was that Sinister slewed around in a circle, bawling and cursing at his better half— and around and around they went, churning like a pocket tornado, with roaring accusations underscored by firm, quiet counterstatements. Rod nudged the doppelganger and pointed down the trail in the direction in which they'd been going. The doppelganger nodded, and together, they inched away from the arguing heads, sidling farther away and more toward the side of the road, with Fess pacing them at a discreet distance. They almost made it into the thicket where the trail curved, but just before they reached the cover of the evergreens, Sinister looked up, saw how far they'd moved, let out a howl like a freight train whose cars had been kidnapped, and charged them.

"Run!" Rod shouted, and did so. But he heard a roar of fury behind him and skidded to a stop behind two evergreens, turning to look, with the doppelganger right beside him. They had stopped too soon; Sinister was lunging toward them full-strength, with Dexter digging in his heels and pulling back—and their whole body pivoted, swinging around in a huge arc with Sinister's head at the end of it, jaws open wide, shooting right toward Rod.

Rod still had his sword out. He brought it up to guard position—and the huge head flinched away, trying to avoid the blade. Sinister overbalanced, and the body stumbled forward a step; Sinister's head caught Rod side-on, slamming him head over heels into the fir tree.

"Let that learn ya!" Sinister crowed. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the tremor in his voice, though, possibly occasioned by Fess leaping in between the creature and his masters with a screaming whinny, rearing back to lash out with his hooves. Sinister flinched away.

Which was just as well, because Rod came scrambling back out of the fir tree with blood in his eye.

"You chuckle-headed lumpish fugitive from an overloaded nightmare! You crumb! Of ill-digested cheese!

You…"

"Please!" Dexter protested, wounded. "I tried my best!"

"Not you—your… Well, him!" Rod aimed his sword at Sinister, who flinched back. The doppelganger had his sword up, too, but gave Rod a knowing look and lowered his blade.
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Reluctantly, so did Rod. Fess saw, and snorted as he stepped aside. That was all the opening Sinister needed. "Scared, huh?" he cried in glee, and leaped—or at least, the left-hand side of the body did. The right-hand side planted itself firmly—and the monster tripped over its own feet. Bellowing, it rolled heads over heels down the slope beside the trail, crashing through twigs and underbrush, and caroming off tree trunks.

"The poor beast," Rod whispered.

"Poor, my aunt Fanny!" his doppelganger snapped. "He's rubber—he bounces! Our job is to get out of here before Sinister manages to get his side moving enough to drag Dexter back up to the trail. Come on—run!"

They stopped after a mile, staggering up against tree trunks and wheezing for breath. The chill winter air stabbed their lungs like tiny knives. Fess slowed and stopped behind them.

"Must be getting—outa shape," Rod gasped. "A mile never did this to me… before."

"Yeah, but this mile… was through foot-deep snow," the doppelganger answered.

"I would have carried you, Rod," Fess reproached him.

"I didn't want to take the time to… mount." Rod forced himself back to his feet, looking around.

"Well… better keep… going. Which way… now?"

"Good… question," the doppelganger puffed, pushing himself away from the tree. They found themselves staring at a fork in the trail.

"Which branch?" Rod murmured.

"Dexter, or Sinister?" his doppelganger responded.

"You have but to ask."

They looked around, staring.

A trunk detached itself from the trees and stepped forward between the two arms of the fork. They discovered, with starts of surprise, that it was a man. He was a foot taller than either of them, and his clothes were the dark gray of bark. The same fabric shrouded his head in a cowl. Rod exchanged a wary look with his double. The doppelganger nodded and sidled around the stranger, loosening his sword in its sheath.

The bark-man folded his cowl back.

Rod stared—the man's whole face seemed to curve upward on the sides. His mouth was a grin, and the corners of his eyes tilted up. His bunched cheeks were so red they could have been spots of paint. He looked as though the mere idea of sadness had never even touched him.

"He's a happy-face," Rod said.

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"No, he's not," the doppelganger contradicted. "You should see him from the back! He's a sad-face."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" The stranger lifted both hands in appeal. "I am both—Comedy before and Tragedy after!"

Rod didn't like what that said about the man's view of life. "And I'm supposed to ask you which path to take to my future?'

The stranger shrugged and said gaily, "Why trouble yourself with the future?" From behind, the same voice said, with dire tones, "To me, all futures are past." Rod decided the man would have done well in commodities.

"Wherever you go," counseled Mirth, "there is much to enjoy; for there is beauty in all things, and vividness in every experience."

"Experience is a history of pain," answered Tragedy, "for ugliness and squalor prevail." The doppelganger cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. "You boys really can't agree on anything, can you?"

"Aye," said Mirth, "on Unity!"

"We concur on Duality," Tragedy explained.

"They can't even agree on what they agree on," Rod said to the doppelganger, exasperated.

"Oh, they do, if you look at it the right way." The doppelganger tilted his head way to the side. "I mean, after all, the Duality is just the two aspects of Eternity."

"Not you, too," Rod groaned. "Look, can we get down to basics here?" He turned back to the two-faced man. "Which way should we go?"

"To the right," said Mirth; so of course:

"To the left," said Tragedy.

"Got a coin?" Rod asked the doppelganger.

"Why?"

" 'Cause I'm ready to flip."

"Chance brings disaster," Tragedy intoned.

"Chance may bring happiness," Mirth responded.

"Why did I know that was coming?" Rod muttered. He looked up at Fess. "Can you make sense out of all this?"

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"Not readily," Fess answered. "However, I do detect a slight depression in the snow between the two paths of the fork."

Rod whirled, staring."I don't see anything."

"It is a matter of averaging the bumps in the snow, Rod."

"I'll take your word for it." Rod stepped forward toward the center.

"Back!" cried Mirth.

"You must not go there!" cried Tragedy.

"At last," muttered the doppelganger, "something they agree on." Both faces whirled toward him at the same moment—or tried to. The only real result was that the two-faced man lurched aside, and Rod dodged past him.

"Stop!" shrieked Mirth.

"Avoid moderation!" lamented Tragedy.

But Rod was kicking the snow aside, and discovered a very faint, but discernible, track. "Come on," he said to the doppelganger, who jumped to follow him.

The two-faced man lumbered into motion, following them with the ungainly stride of a man who is of two minds about an issue, reaching out with clumsy arms. "TheMiddle Way is forbidden!"

"There is nothing amusing in synthesis!"

Fess took two leaps and stood astride the trail between the two Rods and the two-faced man, who blundered into him with a loud "Oo/!" and rebounded, falling over his own feet and collapsing. He was scrabbling back up in a minute, but Fess had turned away, and the guardian of extremes found himself facing a horsetail.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he turned back to face the single trail again. Rod had to kick his way through leafless ground vines, last year's leaves and fallen sticks, to find the path. He was glad he favored stout boots, and kept them heavily waxed. "I assume this will take us someplace."

"Someplace not overly favored by those who search for fame and fortune, at a guess," the doppelganger returned.

"Well, yes," Rod agreed, "but not too many of those find either one, do they?" The doppelganger shrugged. "Myself, I wouldn't know. I keep trying for obscurity." Rod nodded. "I know the feeling. All I want is a calm, peaceful, quiet, contented existence."

"Wonder why we never get it?" the doppelganger mused.

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"Because we want it, of course… Whoa! What's this?"

Rod had parted a screen of brush, and they found themselves staring out at a broad road on top of a ridge.

"It's the King's Highway." said the doppelganger softly. Rod grinned. "Of course. We go looking for a quiet life, and what do we find?"