Turning Wind

CHAPTER 11

At dinner the weather changed dramatically. Before the first course was served, a sudden wind blew up and within half an hour the evening sunlight, which had spread across the sky like molten gold, was enshrouded in black clouds that twisted themselves into angry, contorting shapes and gradually blotted out the light. In cottages and mansions across the Island, doors and shutters slammed and banged in the wind and curtains and tapestries were whipped and buffeted. In the Great Hall of the Palace, where the Royal Household and its guests had gathered to eat, lamps and fires were hurriedly lit while the Bellmaster stood by a window, soberly contemplating the changing skies.

‘Something’s amiss,’ he muttered grimly; ‘something’s happening; I can feel it in my bones!’

Queen Banqua’s gaze darted across the table: ‘Surely Bellmaster, it’s only a storm brewing,’ she said; ‘We are used to storms brewing up in this part of the world.’

‘Of course, Ma’am,’ the Bellmaster replied patiently; ‘but not one like this!’

‘A storm is a storm,’ the Queen insisted: ‘a lot of wind and rain and a lot of bother. But we’re quite safe in the Palace.’

But the Bellmaster was not reassured. He stood and bowed briefly to the royal table and dismissed himself. Barney and Kirlmann, seeing him leave, excused themselves too, and followed him through the door.

Angelina watched them leave, her face crumpled with concern. She sprang to her feet, walked around to her parents and kissed them each on the cheek.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’ll have to go too.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ the Queen insisted.

‘Your mother’s right: stay here with us,’ Gunness agreed. But Angelina had left the great hall and was following the Bellmaster.

Banqua stood and made to follow her, but Gunness held out a restraining hand.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that it’s time to let Angelina make her own decisions.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean events are overtaking us and Angelina is caught up in them, for good or ill’

‘That’s nonsense,’ insisted the Queen.

‘I’ve a feeling that, by tomorrow you will see things very differently.’

‘And I’m afraid,’ the Queen persisted ruefully, ‘that, by tomorrow, when this storm has blown over, we’ll all be feeling a little foolish.’

‘I hope you are right,’ said Gunness. ‘But what if you are wrong, and we have stood in the way of the very people who want to help us!’

I don’t know what to believe,’ Bianqua said, ‘except that I’m very suspicious of messengers of gloom and doom.’

‘There’s no harm in being suspicious,’ Gunness agreed, ‘but we are not dealing with cranks and tricksters, these are honest people – and they include the Bellmaster and our own daughter. Now let’s finish our meal together; it may be the last that we share for some time.’

Barney, Kirlmann and Angelina soon caught up with the Bellmaster. ‘What’s wrong with the storm?’

Barney asked breathlessly, as he came up behind him.

‘Its just not natural, Barney.’

‘Just what I thought’’ the Beachcomber agreed enthusiastically. ‘It’s not natural for a storm to blow in on a fair weather wind.’

‘What’s a fair weather wind?’ Barney asked.

‘Exactly what we’ve had today, Barney,’ the Bellmaster replied. ‘It should set us well for a spell of warm and balmy weather. Kirlmann’s right. I’ve had a bad feeling working up inside me all evening.’

‘Well why didn’t you explain about this fair weather wind to my mother?’ Angelina demanded.

The Bellmaster turned to the Princess and saw loyalty and frustration in her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

‘Princess,’’ he said patiently, ‘I know your mother and I respect her greatly. But she is a proud and frightened woman. And in her pride ‑ and her fear ‑ she doesn’t want to believe us. But she will, Princess; she will. Now hurry; we have no more time to talk on the corridor than we had to discuss the weather with your mother. I must go and consult the Crystal Sphere again, though I’m afraid we may be too late!’

He released his hold on Angelina and continued on his hurried way, with the others in close pursuit.

‘Just what is the crystal sphere?’ Barney asked.

‘Hanged if I know, ‘ Kirlmann replied, as he strode along beside, him; ‘A sphere made of crystal, I suppose.’

Along corridors and up stairways they went, through doorways and hallways. Outside, the buffeting wind grew stronger and by the time they arrived at the Bellmaster’s apartment, it was blowing a persistent howl. The Bellmaster hurried across to the bookshelves on the far side of his study. He removed a large volume from one of the shelves, put a hand into the space and …
The others watched as a whole panel of the bookcase swing open to reveal the entrance to a hidden room.

‘God’s elbow!’ the Beachcomber cursed; ‘The place is like a rabbit warren!’
The Bellmaster led them into the room: it was small, and most of its space was taken up by a large, round, convex mirror, beaten from a sheet of bronze, which was supported, like a table, on four study, wooden legs. Suspended above the bronze mirror was a huge crystal, as big as a football. Its many facets reflected a thousand fold the pale light that filtered in through the doorway.

‘Well, there’s your crystal sphere,’ Angelina observed.

There was something else in the room: on a ledge, in a recess in the wall was the Portal Generator.

‘Zedd and his Beasts will never find it in here,’ the Bellmaster remarked as he squeezed by.

On the floor beside the bronze mirror there was a ­cushion. The Bellmaster knelt down on it, lifted his eyes to the sphere and stretched out his arms over the great dish of the mirror. His companions looked on, spellbound. As the Bellmaster focused his thoughts onto the sphere, it gradually began to glow with a milky, incandescence. The light grew downwards until it spread in a shimmering sheen across the bronze mirror. Then the Bellmaster lowered his gaze and peered over the edge of mirror, closely inspecting the milky light.

‘Nothing,’ he said; ‘But there’s something powerful going on; I must concentrate a little harder!’ He gazed deeply into the light, his forehead creased with the effort of concentration. Slowly, the milky blankness began to give way to a series of faint images which came together to show a gaunt, lightning-crowned edifice on a bleak mountain peak. The onlookers gasped in amazement.

‘What is it?’ asked Barney.

‘The Fortress of Roth, breathed Kirlmann. ‘Incredible!’

‘What are those things swarming around the turrets?’ Barney asked. The others peered closer.

‘They look like huge flies,’ Angelina remarked.

The Bellmaster’s jaw gaped open: ‘Impossible; impossible,’ he groaned. For, as the image grew clearer and larger, they could see, swarming around the turrets of Roth, were hosts of hideous, winged creatures: bat‑like, cat‑like, rat‑like, dragon-like; and at the head of the swarm, mounted on a horned bat­-creature, was a man in a cloak, whose long hair and beard blew wildly about his head, and whose eyes flashed spiteful and venomous in the lightning glare.

‘Bloody hell,’ Barney swore softly under his breath. Angelina uttered a gasp and clasped Barney’s arm. Barney hardly noticed.

‘Zedd the Mystic and the Beasts of Roth.’ the Bellmaster’s voice sounded like the low moaning of the wind. ‘They’ve not ventured from the Fortress since they felt the power of the Bell. What’s he planning? Show me!’ he yelled, slamming his fists down on the rim of the mirror. The bronze dish rang a deep‑throated groan; the milky light wavered and trembled and the image that it held swirled out of shape then reformed to show a giant whirlwind ploughing purposefully across the ocean: a black spiral, snaking upwards into the dark clouds, lightning dancing terrifyingly about its crown.

‘What on earth is that?’ asked Angelina.

‘A tornado!’ cried Barney.

‘By the Ancient of Ancients!’ Kirlmann exclaimed. ‘It’s a torquewind, right enough, but like none I’ve ever seen!’

‘A torquewind it is,’ the Bellmaster agreed, ‘but not by the Ancient of Ancients! This is the work of the fiend that we saw riding the bat‑beast. This is the work of Zedd the Mystic. He’s set the elements against the Bell. If it is lost to the torquewind then Fa’Lacree will be lost to the Beasts of Roth; and with it the Rule of Seth and the prosperity and peace of the Eastern Kingdom!’

‘What can we do?’ the Princess asked.

‘Well I must go straight to the Bellspire and remove the Bell to a place of safety until the torquewind has passed over,’ the Bellmaster said, standing, an turning towards the door.

‘I’ll come and help you,’ said the Beachcomber.

‘No, man, this is a job that I must do on my own. I have ropes and windlasses up there. Besides, it’s dangerous work: I fear the torquewind is nearly on us. Now listen quickly to what you must do: ­
‘Kirlmann; you must take Barney and go around the quaysides and wharfs. Go to every vessel and boathouse; every inn and lodging and lead as many seafaring folk and their families as possible back to the palace.

‘Princess, you must go straight back to your parents and direct them to organise the Lords Merchant and the traders and craftsmen of Seth Haven. They must all collect behind the walls of the Palace Courtyard. If the worst does happen, and the Bell is snatched, then you must try to lead as many souls as possible to the safety of the cavern under the High Place.

‘There is only one way, to my reckoning, that Zedd can totally silence the Bell. You, Barney, with your silver ear, will be able to follow it when the time comes. Others must follow you and listen to your directions… If the worst happens ‑ and I feel that it will.

‘Now I must go to do what has to be done!’

And so saying, the Bellmaster was away; out through the door in the bookcase, and into the Bellchamber and then out through the doorway that led directly to the Bellspire.

The others followed. As they walked out from the secret room, the door slid mysteriously shut behind them.

Barney was worried. ‘Will anyone listen?’ he asked.

‘With the Bell snatched from over their heads, they’ll listen,’ Angelina replied, ‘Now let's hurry!’

New Tricks

CHAPTER 10

King Gunness felt uneasy. His lean face was grey and lined with worry. Something was brewing and he didn’t understand what it was and that unsettled him:

That strange boy arriving out of nowhere with the Beachcomber claiming it was the fulfilment of the prophecy of the Bell; his queen distrusting the old man and the boy; and then the Bellmaster and his own daughter defying the Queen. They accepted the Beachcomber's story and they believed boy. And that bothered him. It bothered him, too, that this was all making him look ‑ and feel ‑ less than a king.
Gunness paced the Chamber of State irritably. At least the Bellmaster had given him a breathing space. But where were they now?
And where was that daughter of his?
‘The wretched girl!’ he fumed to himself. ‘Where can she be?’ Dro'Gan, Captain of the Guard, was stood by the main door. Gunness called him over.
‘Captain,’ he ordered, ‘Go check the Bellmaster’s apartments again. See if you can get an answer this time. And if you should see the Princess, tell her I wish to see her! At once!’
Dro’Gan saluted and turned to do the King’s bidding. Hardly had he left the Chamber when Angelina herself appeared through another door.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, when she saw the King. ‘Hello daddy! Are you busy?’ Gunness looked at his daughter. She was rather bedraggled. Her robe was soiled and creased, the hem of her garment was wet and her feet were black beneath her sandal straps.
‘Am I busy?’ Gunness seethed; ‘Yes, I’m busy: busy worrying about you! Where have you been?’
‘Oh, just for a stroll around the Palace,’ Angelina replied sweetly.
‘For six hours?’ Gunness arched his eyebrows severely.
‘Well I have been to the library doing some studying, as well.’
The King looked his daughter up and down. ‘Is that where you got your clothes in such a mess?’ Angelina looked down at her garments.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t noticed that.’
‘We-e-ell?’
‘Oh, yes! I remember! I was walking through the Palace garden when I saw a cat stuck up a tree. I had to cross the flower beds and climb the tree to get the cat down.’
‘Well what a kind girl you are, Angelina!’ cried the King.
‘Oh, it was nothing really,’ Angelina replied.
‘No,’ her father agreed. ‘I’m sure it was nothing.’
‘Why’s that, Papa?’ Angelina looked uncomfortably at her father.
‘Because I’ve only recently spoken to the gardener. He tells me he’s been in the garden nearly all day and he’s had neither sight nor sound of you. So what do you say about that?’
‘Oh!’
‘Now perhaps you’d like to explain again.’
At that moment the drapes across the main door parted and the Captain of the Guard admitted the Bellmaster and his two guests. ‘Perhaps Your Majesty will allow me to explain,’ the Bellmaster interrupted; ‘I think the Princess is protecting me. I’m afraid I allowed the Princess to follow us out of the Palace.’
‘You did what?’ exclaimed Gunness, ‘This is most improper!’
‘Your Majesty,’ the Bellmaster continued; ‘the Princess has been my pupil now for six years. She shows spirit and intelligence: a true successor to the line of Sethmagnus. I know; I can see these things. And I can see that she will serve Your Majesty well in our coming crisis. Please don’t be anxious; the Princess has already served you well today.’
Angelina blinked: She couldn’t see what possible service she had been to anyone.
The King looked sternly at his daughter and then at the Bellmaster. He couldn’t see what service the Princess had been either. And he told them so. ‘And I’m still not convinced that there really is a threat to the Bell!’ he added.
The Bellmaster returned Guinness’s stern gaze. ‘I mean no disrespect, but it would be foolhardy to ignore the possibility of a threat to the Bell.’
‘Then tell me what the threat is then,’ demanded the King.
The Bellmaster paused a moment. ‘Truly, Sire, I can’t yet say.’ He walked across to a window overlooking the courtyard. ‘You look out of this window and what do you see?’ he asked.
‘The courtyard; the city; walls, people ...’
‘Can you see the Ocean?’
‘Why no!’
‘But the Ocean is there?’
‘Well, of course it’s there,’ Gunness replied testily.
‘But you can’t see the Ocean,’ the Bellmaster insisted. ‘No more can I see the danger to the Bell. But I know it’s there. Zedd the Mystic has conjured up a veil of magic against my powers of vision, just as the City walls prevent you from seeing the Ocean. All I have to rely on is my instinct and senses. If Zedd has drawn a curtain around himself and his doings, then you can be sure that there is something momentous going on that he wishes to keep to himself.’
Gunness looked deeply troubled. Angelina went across to him and put her arms around him. ‘What’s the matter, Daddy?’ she asked him tenderly.
Gunness looked down at his daughter then across at the Bellmaster and Barney and Kirlmann. ‘The Eastern Kingdom has prospered from the shores of Fa’Lacree for more than five generations,’ he began. ‘There has been peace and prosperity here and across the realm of the Islands, even as far as the old lands of Seth. We have forgotten the calamitous times that brought Sethmagnus from the old lands to these shores.
‘All we have are legends and lore and a few words inscribed by ‘who knows’ on a bell which has become the talisman of our Kingdom ....’ The King hesitated, lost for a moment. ‘What I’m trying to say,’ he continued, ‘is that perhaps there never was a Battle for Sundown; perhaps Zedd the Mystic was no more than a successful villain who caused the collapse of the Eastern Kingdom by nothing more than piracy; perhaps the Bell is a myth and all the stories were created to embellish the good name of Sethmagnus! After all, who’s ever heard or seen any­thing of the Ancient of Ancients? And he is supposed to be the Guardian of our Lands!’
The Bellmaster raised an eyebrow at this confession of royal doubt. However, he continued to smile impassively.
‘Are you trying to do me out of a job, Your Highness?’ he asked.
‘Well no!’ the King protested; ‘At the very least, the Bell is an important symbol of peace and stability among the People of Seth. In that respect it is as essential as the crown on my head. I just don’t want to believe that there could be any threat to it all.’
The Bellmaster looked thoughtfully at his King.
‘These are all fair questions, Sire,’ he said; ‘and I’m sure you’re not the only one to ask them. But you can’t bury your head in the sand; doubts and questions will not make the threat go away.’
‘And what about Barney?’ Angelina interrupted.
‘Barney?’ Gunness cast a wary eye in his direction.
‘You must believe that there’s something strange in the way that he came among us? He’s obviously not one of our people; it’s all too much of a coincidence!’
‘So you say, child; so you say.’ Everyone was now looking at Barney and he felt his neck and ears burning hot; and he felt that he had remained silent for long enough.
‘Listen, Your Majesty;’ he said, ‘A few hours ago I was having a pleasant walk along the beach – my beach - before going home to my sisters and my mum and dad. I didn’t ask to come here and I don’t know why I am here. If I’m not back when they expect me, they’ll be worried stiff. I really did get here like I told you all; I really did fall here!’
‘The boy speaks the truth, Sire,’ said Kirlmann Wader, ‘I found him on the beach, just as he says. In fact, thinking about it, there wasn’t a single footprint leading up to the spot where he landed; just a lot o’ fuss in the sand.’
‘You really have no choice but to believe in the Danger, Sire,’ the Belmaster insisted; ‘Very soon now it will be too late.’
Gunness sat down on a high‑backed wooden chair and rested his arms heavily on the armrests. He stared morosely at the floor.
‘You’re right, of course, Bellmaster,’ he said quietly. ‘Much of what I’ve said is because of hurt pride. Kingship has really been little more than a game for me. The Eastern Kingdom and the Merchant Empire of Seth run themselves so well that there is little opportunity for me to exercise true authority. I suppose I feel abandoned by the Ancient of Ancients.’
The Bellmaster looked surprised. ‘Why ever do you feel like that?’ he asked.
‘I’d always imagined that the boy in the prophecy would appear before the heir of Sethmagnus,’ the King lamented: ‘Me,’ he added.
The Bellmaster understood. ‘Ah! I see,’ ‘Look at it this way: trouble cannot far away! Just think back on the history of the Fall of Seth, which I assure you is exactly as it has been told. Zedd has already devastated the old kingdom, and if he succeeds in reaching the shores of Fa’Lacree, then not only will the Bell be at risk, but every life on the Island: especially yours!’
Gunness turned pale.
‘And so,’ the Bellmaster declared, ‘we must gather together every talent under your command! When Barney landed at the feet of Kirlmann Wader, the Ancient of Ancients was bringing the special talents of a Lord of the Shoreline to do your bidding. Kirlmann has his own skills that are essential to the safekeeping of the Bell and the House of Seth: he has a detailed knowledge of the shoreline and the Island of Fa’Lacree. Don’t forget, he brought Barney to you because you are King!’
‘I see; I see!’ Gunness murmured, almost to himself. Then he looked up at Barney and the Beachcomber, from one to the other. Recovering his composure, he stood and walked across to them. He reached out and, to Barney and Kirlmann’s great relief, he shook them both by the hand.
‘Kirlmann Wader and Barney Gulliver,’ he said, ‘I am sorry if my excessive caution meant that I should have made your reception here more courteous.’
‘An honour to serve Your Majesty,’ Kirlmann declared.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Barney added. Kirlmann and Barney smiled widely. But then the door was opened and in walked the Queen with Ben’Almoran, the Lord Merchant Councillor, and the smiles were wiped away. The Queen frowned when she saw the old man and the boy. She turned haughtily to her husband.
‘What have you got there?’ she demanded; ‘I thought you would have got rid of them by now!’
‘No, my dear,’ the King replied calmly but surely.
‘No?’ echoed the Queen.
‘Exactly so,’ Gunness affirmed. ‘They are my guests. Now pray sit down, Banqua, we have a few matters to sort out.’
Ben’Almoran took a half step forward and started to say something but Gunness stopped him with a word and a flash of his eyes.
The Queen looked rather taken aback. ‘What if I don’t care to sit down?’ she asked defiantly.
‘Just be seated, my dear,’ Gunness replied, in a quiet, firm voice, ‘and listen to what I have to say.’
Barney looked at the floor and shuffled his feet in embarrassment.
The Queen sat down, deflated. She listened as Gunness told again the tale of the Bellmaster and explained the prospects that lay before them. As she listened the hardness in her eyes gave way to doubt and concern. Eventually, when Gunness (with some help from the Bellmaster) had finished, the Queen looked up at Barney and Kirlmann.
‘Perhaps I have been a little hasty in my judgement,’ she said grudgingly to them both.
As glad as he was of the Queen’s change of heart, Barney still wasn’t convinced that he had her trust. However, he was able to mutter something in an embarrassed sort of way, that was meant to be, ‘Don’t mention it.’ Whatever it sounded like, the Queen accepted it with a nod of her head. Kirlmann merely bowed silently.
Angelina ran across to her mother and flung her arms around her neck. ‘Oh, thank you Mother,’ she cried. ‘You can trust Barney and Kirlmann you know. And everything will turn out all right. You’ll see!’
‘I must warn you, Princess!’ the Bellmaster interrupted solemnly; ‘The Danger is going to be great and there is no guarantee that things will turn out well. All I can say is that, before things can start to be restored, the boy Barney will have served the People of Seth well. Beyond that, may heaven preserve us all! ‘
There was a hollow silence in the great room, and a nervous churning in the pit of Barney’s stomach, which he thought everyone else must hear. It was the Beachcomber who broke the silence and loosened the knot.
‘What next?’ he asked with plain simplicity. The others looked at him for a moment, so he continued, ‘What next and when?’
‘Good questions; both!’ replied the Bellmaster, at last; ‘But the answer to them both has to be the same: wait and see!’
‘But what can I be doing in the meantime?’ Barney asked.
Gunness stepped forward. ‘Barney Gulliver,’ he cried. ‘We are forgetting our hospitality.’ He turned to the Lord Merchant Councillor: ‘Ben’Almoran,’ he said, ‘You may make yourself useful on my behalf.’
Ben’Almoran gave the King a self-conscious bow.
‘See that quarters are prepared for our two guests. And make it quick!’
The Councillor bowed again and left the Chamber of State. The King then turned to his daughter. ‘Angelina,’ he said, ‘perhaps you ought to show Barney around the Palace.’
Queen Banqua started to protest, but she caught her husband’s gaze and thought better of it. Angelina eagerly took Barney by the arm and walked him over to the main door. ‘Certainly, Father,’ she smiled.
‘Just see that you’re both back for dinner,’ the King added. Then he turned to Kirlmann Wader. ‘Now what of you, Beachcomber?’ he asked.
I think,’ said the Bellmaster, ‘that I will take charge of the Beachcomber for a while longer. There are items I have which I must trust to his care: they will be vital tools in our task. And, by your leave, Sire, we will meet you again with Barney and the Princess, at supper. Perhaps the Princess might be permitted to show our young friend around the Palace? It would be useful for him to get his bearings in case things do get serious.
‘Very well, Bellmaster,’ Gunness answered, ‘We will see you all later. Go safely.’
So the Bellmaster and the Beachcomber bowed low and made their way from the Chamber of State while Angelina led Barney out into the realms of the Palace.

The Bellmaster led Kirlmann back to his apartment. He took him directly to the cupboard by the fireplace. Opening the door, he reached up to a high shelf and took down a round, carved and lidded, ivory box, and a wand. The wand was of jet-black ebony, about half a metre long, decorated at the top with an ivory mast and sail, about the size of a man’s hand. Around its shaft were three gold rings, and set at the base end, in a golden clasp, was a large jewel that sparkled like fire.
‘This is a vessel dowser.’
‘A what?’
‘A vessel dowser. It was created by the Master Craftsmen, in their workshops, within the High Place. See?’ And the Bellmaster pointed out some delicate scrollwork engraved on the rings. ‘These are their marks; you’ll find the same marks on the Bell. And look here; they’re also on the box. ‘
The Beachcomber looked on it admiringly. ‘It’s exquisite,’ he said.
‘It’s practical, as well,’ added the Beachcomber.
‘Why? What’s it for?’
The Bellmaster unscrewed the lid. ‘It keeps these dry,’ he said. The box was filled with golden crystals, about the size and colour of brown sugar crystals, but drier looking, and shinier.
‘Is it some sort of sand?’ asked the Beachcomber.
‘Not sand; mist crystals. These little treasures will be of great help to you. Let me explain how you must use them … And the vessel dowser. And you’d better be emptying your Beachcombing bag; you’ll be needing something to keep them safe.’

In another part of the Palace, Angelina was leading Barney on a journey of exploration. Corridors, galleries and chambers were revealed, rooms and flights of stairs, all with their exquisite yet simple furnishings and drapes. The influence of the sea was indelibly engraved in the decoration of the palace: chair backs and sides were carved with images of sailing ships, fish and mythical sea beasts; similar motifs were woven into the fabric of upholstery, drapes and curtains. And everywhere there were images of the Bell: golden on a blue background. The largest of these was on the flag, which flew high above the courtyard.
Barney watched the flag flapping in the breeze from a turret room at the front of the palace. He and Angelina had climbed to the top to look out over the rooftops of Seth Haven and down on the Silver River, where it poured its waters into the Great Yonder Ocean, through the gate known as the Seaward Gate. The evening summer sun shone warmly, as it moved, unhurried down across the sky, towards the end of the day.
‘Amazing!’ Barney exclaimed. The breeze from the open window filled his nostrils with the familiar smells of the sea. It was hard to imagine that all of this would not last forever. He was so overwhelmed by the wonders around him, in a world that was so alien to his own.
‘Magic,’ he sighed.
‘What?’
‘Magic,’ he repeated:’ All this,’ he said, gazing from the turret window:’ It’s all magic!
Angelina smiled at him. She took hold of his hand and squeezed it enthusiastically. ‘It is, isn’t it,’ she agreed.Barney smiled back, slightly embarrassed. ‘It must be nearly dinner time,’ he said, putting his hand in his pocket.

The Torquewind of Roth

CHAPTER 9

High among the Mountains of Wier, overlooking the green grey, northern waters of the Great Yonder Ocean, stands the Fortress of Roth. It seems to hang there, bleak and forbidding, a Portal between earth and hell. Even when the skies are clear, which is on rare days enough, the fortress looks as grim and as dark, seeming to suck in all cheer from the light of day like some misshapen black hole. For most of their sombre history, the halls of Roth have known only the loathsome shapes of the Beasts of Zedd and the rule of one man; Zedd himself. To call him a man is only partly right, though. True, he was born a child amongst men and grew to manhood. But that was countless years ago.
When he was a baby his mother had named him Lynch and that was the name that hanged by him. Other children grew to hate him for his meanness and his cruelty. The cry, ‘Look out; here comes Lynch’‘ would send them scuttling for home, for they had learned to fear him. And so Lynch grew up doubly bitter and lonely. If you have ever thought that your mothers might be glad to see the back of you, well just imagine how pleased Lynch’s mother was the day he walked away for good. He was sixteen. He headed for the high cliffs between the ocean’s edge and the Mountains of Wier. There he built a drystone dwelling, which he roofed with driftwood and reeds. He drove away all other human callers and turned his mind to the great forces that stretched from the depths of the dark ocean to the infinity of deepest night. He channelled these forces into himself so that gradually he came to master them.
And so it was that he became Zedd the Mystic; the name he took for himself when the Dark Powers finally came within his grasp: Zedd: the End of all Things.
Then, when black‑hearted men came to his door, he welcomed them. Pirates and cut‑throats flocked to him and, under his direction, they and their slaves built for him the Fortress of Roth. There, in its topmost turret, he studied dark powers and indulged in the one other thing that he loved. Gold. His henchmen brought him vast quantities of plunder, yet still he lusted after more: more gold and the chance to commit more evil.
The great wealth of the Eastern Kingdom drew Zedd like a magnet. When he confronted Sethmagnus and demanded the wealth of the Kingdom, the Mystic of Roth was not surprised that Sethmagnus scorned his threats. But he was not expecting defeat in battle.
Conquered, but not crushed, The Mystic of Roth fled back to his mountain refuge. There he plotted vengeance and his return to Seth. With all his followers dead or fled, however, other resources had to be drawn upon.
So Zedd the Mystic locked himself away for many dark years and dreamed and charmed, and charmed and cursed; and from the elements and life forces of the Cosmos he conjured up an army of the darkest fiends that the most evil of minds could imagine. And with them he destroyed the heart of the Eastern Kingdom. But all that was ages past.
*********************************************************

Far from the Island of Fa’Lacree, high in the Mountains of Wier, in the Fortress of Roth, Zedd the Mystic paced the floor of the turret room that he called his own. His footsteps traced a pattern around the floor that charged the whole room with energy.
Not a solitary living human soul, except for Zedd himself, ever trod the Halls of Roth; not since that time‑lost battle, generations ago, when Sethmagnus the Great had destroyed his legions. But Zedd was not alone in his fortress. In every dark and dismal corner, shadowy figures lurked. Some crouched, cat‑like, with flaming eyes; while others hung like bats, by vicious looking talons from rafters or from crevices in the walls. Others, still, prowled the corridors or flitted between the rafters of the vast hall that lay in the heart of the Fortress.
This was Zedd’s new army: fiends of every imaginable nightmare form, conjured up from the depths of his evil mind. With them he had carried out his awful revenge on the Eastern Kingdom and affected the destruction of Seth. Yet now his victory had a hollow ring. The Empire of Seth was grown strong again. The Lord High Craftsman had thwarted him with that infernal Bell. Seven times Zedd had launched his Beasts against Fa’Lacree, but each time the sound of the Bell had smitten them, sending them crashing from the skies into the ocean below.
And so, for generations, Zedd’s lot had been to gloat soulfully over the plundered wealth of the Eastern Kingdom.
‘Damnation!’ he would cry; ‘What use is there in being the blackest power in the Universe when I’m virtually a prisoner with my booty in this heap of rock?’
Then his dark mind was lit by the germ of an idea. From the windows of his turret room he explored the realms of the high skies and spoke words to the Great Air. Some were lost in its moans while others excited it to angry blasts. These words he wrote down on parchment in a black, spidery hand.
As he paced his room and gestured angrily at the reluctant air, for inspiration, he noticed that certain movements aggravated the air to perform ever‑more violent twists and turns. These, Zedd also added to his list of words. Day‑by-day, week-by-week, the Mystic rehearsed more words and actions and added them to his parchment. The weeks ran into months and the months into years and the spell (for it was a Spell of Bidding) grew more powerful. The words he recorded and re­ordered; the actions he wove among the words; arranging and rearranging them to their greatest effect. Zedd’s black eyes gleamed with excitement as the power of his spell grew.
‘I have it! I have it!’ he would scream, leaping into the air with delight as he felt the response to each new word and each new action woven aright. Finally, there on his table, lay the completed manuscript, recording every detail of the spell. Every word and every gesture was orchestrated so that the very air around him was subdued to his command. The spell was complete and Zedd, the Mystic of Roth, stood there, the master of the winds.
On his shoulder was perched one of his Beasts, a bat‑like hawk (or perhaps a hawk‑like bat), which clung tenaciously to its master with sickle‑like claws.
‘Hold on tight, Treg my little friend,’ laughed the Mystic; ‘tonight is the night for testing!’ He raised his outspread hands high and wide and threw back his head. With eyes blazing he called out the dark name of the air. At that, the room around him shimmered and the fire on the hearthstone trembled uneasily.
Then Zedd began to recite the litany, which he had spent so long in devising. Over and over he spoke the incantations and moved his whole body through the spell. On and on, deep into the after­noon, Zedd conjured up the wind to his bidding. Not any old seafaring wind, not a gale, nor even a hurricane. But a mighty cyclone: a torquewind, in the speech of the Merchant Traders of Seth, which the Mystic drew into a great column of churning and twisting air; which collected and grew and howled in a tempestuous column that wrapped itself around the Fortress of Roth from the root of its mountain to the very limits of the stratosphere.
With a yell of triumph, Zedd ordered the cyclone to move. As the furious winds inched across the fortress, the great walls shook and groaned. Air rushed wildly through the halls and corridors, while up in Zedd the Mystic’s turret room the fire was sucked bodily up the flue.
Treg, the Spell Beast, clung terrified to Zedd’s shoulder. It flapped its leathery wings in frantic resistance, its bright yellow eyes rolling miserably in their sockets. Finally, as the very roof of the turret was dragged from its joists, the hapless creature was torn from its perch and sucked, wailing, into the heart of the tornado.
Zedd, rooted to the floor by his magic, roared with an evil laughter that was caught up in the long spiral fingers of the whirlwind.
‘Enjoy your trip, my little Treg!’ he yelled; ‘Have a good flight!’
High up in the cyclone his evil laughter echoed and re-echoed amidst the howling and the groaning of the spell‑bound air. Then, under the Mystic’s word of command, the mighty whirlwind moved down the mountain. Cautiously, at first, then with growing confidence and vigour, Zedd directed his mighty column of destruction. In and out of the valleys and around the spurs of the Mountains of Wier, it heaved, leaving a trail of havoc in its path. Trees were stripped of their branches or totally uprooted; shepherds’ cottages simply vanished as the monstrous wind engulfed them and stripped them like shelled peas.
Zedd, watching from his stricken turret, was ecstatic. He leapt and cheered with glee, his hair and beard whipped up by the wind. Then, with a gesture and a word he called his creation to heel. Slowly and obediently the great wind returned to the foot of the mountain, awaiting its master’s next word of command. Zedd was now certain of his control over the wind.
‘Wait there, my beauty!’ he cried, and he flung wide the door of his turret room. Down the spiral stairway, he strode; down into the bowels of his fortress and finally along a bare and echoing corridor and into the main hall. There he summoned his beasts with a single word, which boomed around the fortress.
From the furthest corners and crannies the Beasts came slinking from their boltholes where they had cringed in fear under the onslaught of the wind. ‘Come to me, you craven cowards!’ bellowed the Mystic: ‘We have work to do!’ And come they did. Skulking and unsure, they flocked down the corridors to their master. ‘You have no more need to be afraid, my children!’ he cried; ‘We have a new ally!’
The Beasts muttered and snarled among themselves. ‘I have conjured up my finest spell yet! Finer even than your snivelling selves!’
The snarling grew more irritable.
‘Be silent, you witless curs or I’ll send you all back to oblivion, just as sure as I created you!’
The Beasts fell silent and the Mystic continued, ‘You are like helpless kittens against the Bell of the Ancients! But the Bell will be useless against my new slave! Behold the WIND! It has no mind that the Bell can paralyse; just a path to follow and a prize to win!’
The Mystic’s laughing eyes scanned his cringing beasts: ‘Do I hear you asking what the Prize is?’ he asked contempt­uously; ‘No! Of course not you idiots! Well, I’ll tell you anyway! The Bell! I shall have the Bell and be done with it! You, my pets, shall have your revenge; and I,’ he added with relish, ‘shall have mine!’
The Beasts erupted with elation. Their baying and howling rose to a crescendo which was caught up by the Mystic’s tornado. Their hideous cacophony filled the mountains of Wier and echoed far across the ocean: and sailors and peasants, hearing the awful din, huddled together in stark terror, fearful of whatever dreadful thing it might mean.

Picture This with Barney!

Low Skills in High Places

Al's been playing about with our Blogg but trying to fit in a full-time job ('big mistake, but a bird in a hand .... etc') and being a devoted husband and family man at the same time. I keep asking him - what does he REALLY value in life. He sort of grins weakly and shrugs his shoulders. Anyway, he's not doing me any favours!

Meanwhile, having finally (he says!!!) cracked it (Blogger), he lost the last batch of photos. So this little "Interlude" is by way of adding some illustration - a little bit of colour to our story.

Beneath The High Place

CHAPTER 8

The summit of the High Place was an irregular plateau of rock, more-or‑less on two levels. The higher level was further back and cut through in places from the lower level by a series of shoulder‑high crevices that had been. From this side, the whole place gave the impression that it had been constructed from stone blocks and left unfinished. The Bellmaster was on his feet and striding off again before Barney could reply. Angelina started to get up to join them, but the Beachcomber placed a restraining hand lightly on her shoulder.

‘Let the Bellmaster have him to his self for a while. I dare say they’ve things to talk about, Princess,’ he smiled.

Barney, revived by the bellherb ale, sprang after the Bellmaster. The incredible man had already leaped onto the upper plateau of rock ahead of Barney, and was bending down to give him a heave up.

‘There you are!’ he announced, ‘This is where you’ve come to!’ Barney looked about him. ‘Not too close to the edge,’ the Bellmaster warned. But what interested Barney was not at the edge: at one side of the higher level, there was an ancient round, stone wall, like a roofless cottage, but low, and without doors or windows. The floor in the middle a shell of fused rock.

‘What’s that?’ Barney asked.

‘An old chimney.’

‘A chimney? That size? But it’s filled in. And what’s it doing up here?’

‘I’ll show you later,’ the Bellmaster said. ‘Meanwhile, let’s enjoy the view: It will be useful to you.’

On all sides, the land dipped away from the foot of the High Place, rolling gently down to the shores of the great sea that surrounded them. The wide sweep of the Silver River uncoiled its way beneath them, pouring its waters into the ocean at Cape Bay, under the watchful gaze of the walls of Seth Haven. Elsewhere on the Island, small clusters of farm buildings could be seen, and an occasional shepherd’s hut nestled among the hills. But the main island settlement was obviously within the city walls. The quayside and harbour were beyond their view, but the passing of broad‑beamed sailing ships in and out of the bay was proof of the prosperity had returned to the Merchants of Seth.

‘Well, Barney Gulliver,’ the Bellmaster said quietly, ‘what do you think of our fair island?’

‘Amazing!’ Barney breathed in wonder.

‘And there’s even more beneath our feet!’

Beneath their feet? Barney eyed the Bellmaster. ‘Here? You mean under the ground?’

‘Follow me,’ the Bellmaster said, reading the look on Barney’s face; ‘Follow me and all will become clear.’ He leaped down from the rocky plateau and called across for Kirlmann Wader and the Princess to join them. He then led the way down a steep and grassless path onto a narrow back that wound down the far side of the High Place to the foot of a sheer escarpment that fell away from the summit. The others slipped and slithered down after the Bellmaster and found themselves on a wide and gently sloping ledge with its steep wall of rock on one side and a tangle of undergrowth on the other.

‘If the worse happens,’ the Bellmaster directed, ‘see that you lead as many of the citizens of Seth Haven as possible to this place.’

Kirlmann looked about him. ‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing,’ he began doubtfully, ‘but I don’t see how it’s going to be any safer here than behind the walls of Seth Haven.’

‘You will,’ the Bellmaster replied and, while the others watched with interest, he strode over to a hazel bush, drew a knife from his belt and neatly pruned off and stripped a forked twig. He handed the twig to Barney, who took the forks in either hand.

‘There, Barney. Tell me what you feel.’

Barney felt the twig, wooden and lifeless in his hand. Then, as he looked at the thing, a tingle of energy seemed to move from the heart of it, through his fingers and hands and up his arms. Barney was so surprised that he tried to drop it. But he found that he couldn’t: instead, the thing twisted in his grip and forced his hands to point it to a place in the rocky escarpment.

‘It’s alive!’ he cried. ‘What do I do now?’

‘Follow where it leads you,’ the Bellmaster replied. So Barney did just that while the others watched. The forked hazel twig tugged in Barney’s hand until its pointed end lodged itself in a recess in the rock face.

‘What on earth’s happening?’ Angelina asked in astonish­ment.

Kirlmann laughed. ‘Well, bless my beard’’ he beamed. ‘If our Barney hasn’t got the Dowsing! What other talents are you hiding my boy?’

Barney laughed too - in disbelief! ‘I’ve no idea!’ he exclaimed. ‘How do I let go of the thing?’

‘Just close your eyes and count to five,’ the Bellmaster continued.
Before Barney had reached three, his grip had relaxed and he opened his hands again, quite easily.

‘Now keep it safe,’ the Bellmaster instructed; ‘You may well need it again.’

Barney tucked the dowsing stick into his belt.

‘What I need now, is fire.’ The Bellmaster reached into his cloak and drew out the wooden box. Close up, Barney could see that it was dark and polished like a freshly hatched chestnut, and carved with strange flame‑like devices. Set in a one side of the box was a brass trigger. The Bellmaster took it and opened the lid. He squeezed the trigger and immediately a cascade of sparks leaped from flint and steel, setting the little pile of tinder and wadding wonder­fully ablaze. It was a tinderbox.

The Bellmaster inserted the blazing box into the niche. ‘Now let’s see…,’ he murmured.
The flames leaped from the tinderbox and disappeared behind the top of the recess, into the back of the rock face. ‘Just watch this.’ And, as the flames did their work, there came a grating and grinding as a section of the cliff face pivoted upwards into the depths of the High Place to reveal an entrance the size of a church door. The others gaped in astonishment.

The Bellmaster retrieved the tinderbox, which was still, inexplicably, burning bright. Holding the box carefully ahead of him as he walked through the doorway. The light from the tinderbox cut unsteadily through the darkness. Barney, Angelina and Kirlmann followed behind. They were stood on a rocky landing at the top of a flight of steps, cut into the inner wall of a great cavern, which seemed to take up the entire shell of the High Place.

‘Wow!’ Barney gasped, his voice echoing back to him. ‘Just how do you build a place like this?’
‘Lots of time and big shovels,’ the Beachcomber suggested. The others laughing, followed him into the vast depths of the High Place.

At last they all stood of the floor of the great cavern. The Bellmaster set the burning tinderbox down on a stone pillar and turned to his companions.

‘This cavern was fashioned in the Days of the Ancients, the Master Craftsmen who ruled here long before the arrival of the Lords Merchant of Seth. In those times the Island was mined for its iron. It had qualities of strength and purity that made it highly prized. The Island was a warren of mineshafts and tunnels and this great place was hollowed out; at first for its ore, but in the course of time the space left behind was fashioned out for smiths, ironworkers and armourers.
Below this level you can see the pure waters of the Earth, rise up at the source of the Silver River.

In those times it was an ‘Iron River’, running red with rust from the main lode. That was what the river bore down to the edge of the Great Yonder Sea. Rock falls and undergrowth around the High Place have now all-but swallowed up the exit to the waters, apart from a lip of rock below the water line. It provides an interesting way out; I’ve often used it myself.’ He eyed the Princess … ‘If perhaps I’ve wanted to avoid being followed.’

Angelina looked him straight in the eye and smiled.

‘Why did it all stop?’ Barney asked.

The Bellmaster gazed longingly around the dimly‑lit hall. ‘Many reasons;’ he sighed. ‘In the first place, the ore was becoming worked out and people began moving away from the Island. Then, in the lowest reaches of the mines, a strange vein of highly magnetic ore was uncovered. It was smelted and forged, tempered and reworked by the most skilled of all craftsmen: the Master Craftsmen, also known as The Ancients. The forging removed most of the magnetism, but this new metal could be worked into weapons and tools of the most exquisite lightness and strength. Men came from beyond the Westerling Sea, greedy to know its secret but only the Master Craftsmen knew; and they would say nothing.

'It was they who had the secrets and the skills that rewove the magnetic qualities of the ore into other arts and other forces. The metal they worked acquired whatever qualities the Ancients saw fit to work into it; such was the nature of the ore and such was the Art of the Ancients. Outsiders came and tried bribery and brigandry to win their secrets, but they all failed and the secrets of the Ancients remained intact.

'Then the disappearances started. First there were brigands and spies who had managed to slip into the mines; they were never seen again. Then the Ancients, the Master Craftsmen themselves began to disappear.’
‘

Whatever happened to them?’ asked Angelina.

‘They had discovered the Light Portals.’

‘Like the one that brought me here?’ asked Barney

‘The very same, Barney. Something in the very nature of the ore could distort time and space, so that anything, or any­one passing near the focus of its energy was drawn into it and lost from this world to a world beyond.’

‘Well, it’s all beyond me,’ Kirlmann interrupted.

‘But not beyond the Ancients! They discovered how to direct the forces of the mother lode of the ore. There were those who returned from the worlds beyond with new knowledge and understanding. Soon they closed down the Island. The mines were declared exhausted and the lesser artisans and labourers were sent back to their homelands. The Ancients were left in sole residence on the Island and they saw to it that all traces of the past industry on the Island were removed. No harbours or jetties, no buildings or roads. And they brought their arts and skills back to this place here, within the bowels of the High Place.
'‘Here, they worked and studied: they explored the forces that cause the time distortions and they learned to control them. They used their alchemy to create crystals from the ore: crystals which eventually found their way into the portal generator.

'Eventually, when they had fully mastered the forces, the Ancients gained control of the Portals. They used them as avenues to other times and dimensions. At last the time came when they decided to take their leave of the Island: to take leave of the whole of this world, in fact. The Ancients shut down the furnaces and the forges, sealed the main flue, at the top of The High Place, and prepared to leave.'
‘

'They each chose their own Portal and departed this world, on the Inner Plain, for wider worlds on the Outer Plain, to their own chosen time and chosen world.’

The Bellmaster looked hard at his companions through the lapping light of the tinderbox. ‘The Ancients were great men, but they were mostly concerned with fulfilling their own dreams. Five‑and‑twenty of them there were, and four‑and‑twenty departed.’

‘You mean,’ Kirlmann Wader said, ‘that one remained!’

‘Only one chose to stay and serve his own kind.’
‘And that,’ suggested Angelina, gleefully, ‘was the Ancient of Ancients!’

‘Exactly, Princess. And it is his portal generator and his portal key that I still have. The Lord High Craftsman watched as his brothers conjured up their own Portals and departed the Inner Plain forever. He alone chose to remain. At first he used the Portals solely to carry him from Fa’Lacree, across the northern waters of the Great Yonder Sea, to the growing kingdom of the Lords Merchant of Seth. He came to know the wisest of their number; he guided their ways and made them great. He still returned to this place when need forced him. Who knows,’ he added with a smile, ‘perhaps he still does.’ The others looked uneasily at the Bellmaster, not knowing what to say next.

The Bellmaster looked around at them and broke the silence. ‘There’s a lot about this place to restore ebbed strength and build new heart,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the Ancient of Ancients often came here, like an owl returning to his oak, or a tiger to his lair. Or even,’ he added, ‘like a smith to his forge: it was here that the Bell was forged.’

‘What;’ asked the Princess, ‘In this very place?’

‘Follow me, Princess, and I’ll show you the very place where it was cast, using an alloy of the fine iron mined from beneath our very feet! And other things besides.’

So the Bellmaster took up, once more, the still‑blazing tinderbox and led them to a far corner of the great cavern to the now‑cold forges of the Ancients. And there among them were the two halves of a cast: the mould for the Bell of the Ancients.

Angelina ran he hand across the pitted insides of the mould. ‘Have you ever seen the Ancient of Ancients in this place?’ she asked the Bellmaster.

‘Do you know;’ came the reply, ‘apart from yourselves, the only person that I’ve ever seen down here is myself,’ he replied.

‘Did any of the Ancients find their way to my world,’ Barney asked, as they walked on down towards the great source of the Silver River.

The Bellmaster tousled his hair. ‘Who knows, young Barney,’ he smiled. ‘Look!’ The Bellmaster pointed and Barney’s eye was caught by the reflection of light on water. They had arrived. There beneath them, rose the springhead of the Silver River.

They had descended from the forges of the Ancients, by a flight of steps cut into the rocky floor, to a lower level. And there ahead of them lapped the living waters of the earth, forced up from who‑knows what depths. The Bellmaster’s light cast its flickering rays across the cavern walls and sent dappled waves shimmering over the surface. The waters spread out before them to form a small subterranean lake.

‘If you enter the waters to your left,’ the Bellmaster said, pointing, ‘and you stay close to the wall, where it is shallow, then you’ll reach the place where the waters spring out at the foot of the High Place. You’ll feel the rush of the water about you. Hold your nose and plunge under the lake. The force of the waters will do the rest. You’ll be out in the open again almost before you’ve had time to get your hair wet.’

Barney frowned. He didn’t particularly like the idea of putting his head under water. ‘You don’t really think we’re going to need a rear exit?’ he asked.

‘You never can tell, young Barney,’ the Bellmaster replied; ‘Better safe than sorry, huh?’

But, instead of plunging into the waters of the Silver River, the Bellmaster led them, to Barney’s relief; back out by the same way they had entered.

At the top of the steps the Bellmaster paused while the others walked, blinking, into the daylight, to heave downwards on the overhanging slab of rock that was the door into the cavern. The slab closed slowly behind htem, leaving no trace at all of the doorway save the recess through which the tinderbox had fired the opening mechanism. And, from several paces away, that too became barely distinguishable from all the other nooks and crannies that pockmarked the rock face.

The lid of the tinderbox was snapped shut. The flame extinguished, the Beachcomber handed the box back to the Beachcomber.

‘Here, Kirlmann,’ he said, ‘look after this, my friend. You’ll likely need it again before our mission is out.’ Kirlmann put the ornate box safely into the depths of his own pocket, and marvelled that there was no hint of warmth to suggest the blaze that it had held. The Beachcomber shook his head in puzzled wonder.

The Bellmaster smiled. ‘There will be more devices awaiting you back in my apartments, Kirlmann Wader. They will help provide delivery across the waters and concealment from unfriendly eyes. But first we must return to Seth Haven and try to discover what lies ahead.’

The Bellmaster swept off around the bluff to the steep grassy slopes on the far side of the High Place. There he paused and gazed down across the Island to the distant white walls of the City. The others, following on behind, stopped and followed his gaze. Even as they stood, the Bell rang out from high above the palace and sent three deep chimes rolling across the hills of Fa’Lacree and out across the endless oceans.
There was a sudden sadness in the eyes of the Bellmaster and he uttered a long, sad, sigh. ‘Should danger befall us, and I'm not around’ he said, ‘remember to make for this place. If the very worst happens and the City falls to the might of Zedd the Mystic, then make for the banks of the Silver River and follow the route we have taken today; only keep to the valley for as long as possible. When you come near, Barney, use the hazel fork to point the way to the cavern entrance. Now come along; it’s time to return.’

And so they retraced their steps and made their way across the Island, back to the entrance to the tunnel into the palace. When they finally re‑entered the Bellmaster’s chamber, the log fire had died away to a weary wisp of smoke that coiled lazily up the chimney. The Princess said her goodbyes and, squeezing Barney’s hand, slipped back to the Royal Apartments. Barney smiled weakly and looked to see if The Bellmaster or Kirlmann Wader had noticed. But Kirlmann was examining the tinder box, and the Bellmaster was ringing a service bell.

Servants soon ­arrived with plates and beakers, knives and spoons, and Barney and Kirlmann sat down with their host to a meal of broth, meat, bread, milk and fruits. Barney was having the time of his life.