Warlock

that Zito had been. The living machine shrieked in triumph, using Zito's vocal cords.
        
        From the ranks of the Banibaleers, four men threw their daggers. The weapons wobbled uncertainly, not made for throwing. But two of them found their mark in Hankins' back.
        
        The writhing figures dropped on the snow, rolled against each other like some grotesque pair of unearthly lovers. The wires grew over them both, using their flesh to support extensions, whining, swaying, seeking…
        
        In time, the machine was as dead as the men it had killed.
        

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        The windbreakers were taken down and packed away.
        
        A party was detailed to scoop out hollows in the snow, while a second party dropped twenty-four human corpses into the depressions and scooped loose snow over them. In time, they would be encased in ice, as fitting a grave for a mountaineer as any.
        
        The huddled, nightmare forms of Cartier, Zito and Hankins were left untouched.
        
        At Daborot's insistence, the men were fed, though no one had much of an appetite that morning. A bit of bread, some coffee, a little cheese, and a healthy dollop of brandy was the average lunch. No one, for some reason only partially understood, wished to partake of the salted beef jerky.
        
        Commander Richter pulled on the tough bread and looked down into the swirling mists and snow through which they must travel in the hours ahead of them.
        
        The Shaker said: “Eternal fidelity cannot exist, of course.”
        
        Richter said: “Of course.”
        
        The Shaker: “No man is eternal.”
        
        Richter: “Sometimes, I feel that I am.”
        
        
        
        The Shaker: “And circumstances affect fidelity.”
        
        Richter: “Perhaps the knowledge of the Blank-perhaps it was not meant for us.”
        
        The Shaker: “For Jerry Matabain, then? You see, nothing matters more than knowledge.”
        
        Richter: “Love, family, children, freedom, peace.”
        
        The Shaker: “Ah, but all of them fall victim to the man with a little knowledge. With knowledge, he can take your woman from you. With knowledge, he can destroy your family and leave only ashes. With knowledge, your children can become his slaves, your freedom can become the product of his whim, and your peace will be shattered by his lust for war.”
        
        Richter: “You make me pessimistic.”
        
        The Shaker: “Not I. The world.”
        
        And then they went down, hand-over-hand, piton-by-piton, foot-by-foot, into warmer climes where they spent a night without terror. And on the evening of the following day, they passed the frost line and changed into cooler clothes as the mysterious lands of the continent's heart opened to receive them…
        

BOOK TWO
        
        
        
    The East…
        

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        Forty-two men and four dark-feathered Squealers constituted all the living creatures within the Darklands expeditionary force as Commander Richter brought them, at last, to the dense jungles which they had observed ever since they had come out of the mists on the eastern side of the Cloud Range. They crossed more than a mile of open, stony ground where rocks thrust up like fragments of broken urns and shattered bottles, and at last they reached the almost impenetrable, steamy richness of the rain forest. All of this was accomplished at double the average marching pace, for the commander feared that the Oragonians might be running patrols of the no-man's land between jungle and mountains in their aircraft. They might have a contingency plan in operation to cover the eventuality of their assassins-Cartier and Zito Tanisha-meeting with failure. Forty-two men and four birds would be easy targets in open country for men riding in aircraft.
        
        In the winding vines and ropy, exposed roots of the towering, interlocking trees, they huddled in the dense blue shadows and broke open the mess supplies for a meal of chocolate, dried beef and dried fruit, coffee and some brandy.
        
        It was two hours early for supper, but the commander had decided that appetites came second to the safety of his men. The way ahead looked rugged, and he wanted them to be full and energized for