Compleat Traveller in Black Read Online Free

the floor, and the enchanter gave a smile of satisfaction as he filled the mugs.
    “What business causes you to honor my abode with your presence?” he inquired, resuming his own chair after handing one mug to his caller.
    “There is an aura surrounding Ryovora,” said the traveller. “Before I enter the city I wish to ascertain its cause.”
    Manuus nodded thoughtfully, stroking the wispy beard that clung at his chin. It was as grey as the mist he used to guard his home from casual prying.
    “You will forgive me mentioning the fact,” he said in an apologetic tone, “but it is asserted in one of my books – a volume, moreover, in which I have come to place some degree of confidence – that if your nature is single, then it must logically follow that you answer questions as well as asking them, and that you are obliged to do so one for one.”
    “That is so. And I see plainly that you trust the tome of which you speak. The faceless drinker to whom you just poured libation is not elsewhere referred to.”
    Silence ensued for a space while each contemplated the other. There was, though, a distinction, inasmuch as the enchanter might only study the outward guise of the traveller, whereas the latter examined the totality of his host.
    “Ask away, then,” the traveller invited at length. “And I may say that the more involved your question, the simpler and harder to unravel will be my answer.”
    “And vice versa?” suggested Manuus, his old eyes twinkling.
    “Exactly.”
    “Very well, then. Who are you? Note, please, that I do not ask how you are called. You must have an infinity of names.”
    The traveller smiled. “That is a good question, frankly phrased. So I will answer frankly. I am he to whom was entrusted the task of bringing order forth from chaos. Hence the reason why I have but one nature.”
    “If your nature were such that you demanded honor in full measure with your worth, all the days of my life would not suffice to do you homage,” said Manuus seriously. “Ask now what you would know.”
    “What’s the trouble in Ryovora?”
    Maliciously Manuus countered, “I am not bound by your laws, sir. Therefore I will answer in the human style – simply, to simple questions. There is dissatisfaction with the order of things as they are.”
    “Fair,” the traveller conceded. “Ask away.”
    The enchanter hesitated. “Who,” he resumed at length, “imposed on you –?”
    And his tongue locked in his mouth, while the traveller looked on with an expression blending cynicism and sympathy. When at last Manuus was able to speak again, he muttered, “Your pardon. It was of the nature of a test. I had seen it stated that …”
    “That there are certain questions one is literally and physically forbidden to pose?” The traveller chuckled. “Why, then your test has served to confirm the fact. I, even I, could not answer the question I suspect you were intending to frame. However, a question that cannot be asked is ipso facto no question at all. You may try again.”
    Manuus licked his lips. What had transpired in his head during that moment of involuntary paralysis defied comprehension. He was, though, brave and enterprising, and shortly ventured, “On the other hand, I believe I may legitimately ask: what is the purpose of your undertaking?”
    “You may.”
    “So I do” – leaning back expectant in his chair.
    “Why! When all things have but one nature, they will be subsumed into the Original All. Time will stop. This conclusion is desirable.”
    Manuus looked sourly at the brazier. “Desirable, perhaps – but appallingly dull. Speak again.”
    “In what particular respect are the citizens of Ryovora dissatisfied?”
    Manuus turned the question over in his brilliant mind, seeking a way to milk from it a further opportunity to interrogate his distinguished visitor. He failed, and replied:
    “They are displeased because they have no gods.”
    Three bolts of lightning sheared the clear blue