planet magazine no. 6

8/14/2019 Planet Magazine No. 6

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MastheadPlanet : " The Only Online Zine Edit ed by Nonhuman Supermodels"

Pl a ne t Ma g a z in e , V o l . 2 , N o . 2 ; J u n e 1 9 9 5 ( t h i s i s t h e 6 t h i ss u e )

Ed i t o r & P u b l i s h e r

Andrew G. McCann (Planet [email protected] or [email protected])

A s si s t a n t Ed i t o r

Doug Houston ( DCHoust [email protected])

Co v e r A r t i s t

Romeo Esparrago ([email protected])

Cover t it le: "Anomalocaris surfaces in Beach Blanket Babylon Hell!"

Tools: Mac Performa 57 8, Painter, a Wacom Art Z tablet , and some orange juice.

Background: Anomalocaris (weird shrimp), t he monster/ killer/ predat or of t he Cambrian

seas (~5 30 million years ago) . Apologies to Annet t e Funicello, Frankie Avalon, and t he

video " Muscle Beach Part y."

WHAT IS PLANET MAGAZINE?

Planet Magaz ine is a free quart erly of science fict ion, fantasy, horror, poetr y, and

humor written by beginning or little-known writers, whom we hope to encourage in their

pursuit o f t he perfect story. There could be other reasons we're doing this, of course,

mot ivations t hat are obscure and uncomfort able; inst incts linked perhaps t o primal,

nonreasoning urges regarding power and procreat ion t he very same forces, no doubt ,

t hat brought down the Atlanteans and t heir alabaster-t owered oceanic empire. And theDark Gods laffed. And laff ed.

Anyway, Planet is nationally distributed in electronic form (text and full-color

versions) via Am erican Online, CompuServe, eWorld, New York Mac Users Group

(NYMUG) BBS, Sir John's Pub BBS, and Cthulhu knows where else; t here are a couple

dozen print out s of each issue floating around, as well. We guess t hat t ot al circulat ion is

Planet Magazine 6 Page 2 Mast head


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somet hing like 50 0 per issue. Feel free t o pass t his magazine along electronically or as a

single printout , as long as you don't charge for it or alt er it in any way. We welcome

subm iss ions (det ails below). Planet does not carry any advertising or offer a

subscript ion service (but it can always be found every t hird mont h in cert ain locations;

see below). Lett ers t o t he editor are welcome and are likely t o be print ed. Send quest ions

or comment s t o [email protected].

SUBMISSIONS POLICY

Planet Magaz ine accept s original short stories, poems, one-act plays, and

odds-and-ends (use t he lengt hs in t his issue as guidelines), as well as original

accompanying illustrat ions. We pref er unpublished SF, fant asy, horror, poet ry, humor,

et c., by beginning or lit t le-known writ ers (we t end to eschew st ories published in ot her

e-zines, as well as porno, gore, and monographs of occult lore). Because t his e-mag is

free and operates on a budget of $0.77 per annum, we can't afford to pay anything except

t he currency of free publicity and life-enhancing good vibes (of course, t hat and $ 1.25will get you a bed for the night on the F train, but it's still a shot of ego juice to see your

name in print ).

St o r y s u b m i s si o n s : Send st ories, poems, etc., as St uff It- or ZipIt-compressed ASCII

t ext files t o [email protected] or [email protected]. Two submissions max at a

t ime, please.

I l l u s t r a t i o n s u b m i s s i o n s : Send only one or two illustrations per story as separate,

compressed, 16 -color, 16 -gray, or B&W pict f iles t o Planet [email protected]. We're open to

cover ideas (holiday, seasonal, topical themes are best); query first.

DISTRIBUTION SITES

Planet is dist ribut ed in three electronic versions t ext -only (readable by Windows or

Macint osh, using a word-processing program) , Acrobat PDF ( full-color v ersion readable

by Windows or Mac, using t he f ree, downloadable Acrobat Reader), and DOCmaker

(f ull-color version wit h sounds, readable by Mac only; needs no ot her sof t ware). Some of

t hese files may be compressed wit h St uff It (a .sit file); you' ll need St uff It Expander, or

similar, to decompress them. This zine can be downloaded from t he following sources,

among ot hers:

The Am er i ca On l i ne Writ er' s Club Forum ( keyw ord : WRITERS; t he rout e is The

Writ er' s Club: Writ er' s Club Libraries: Elect ronic Magazine Library) , which carries all

t hree versions. Also, AOL's Science Fict ion & Fantasy Forum ( keyword: SCIENCE FICTION;

t he pat h is Science Fict ion & Fantasy: The Science Fict ion Libraries: Member Fict ion &

Scr ipt s Library) .

The CompuServe Science Fict ion & Fantasy Forum (go: SFLIT; look in t he Science



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Fict ion lit erature library) . This l ibrary carries only t he text version.

The e W o r l d Communit y Center's Trading Post s (short cut is command-g: TP); t he pat h

is Communit y Cent er: eWorld Live: Trading Post s: Newslett ers folder. The SF, Fantasy &

Horror Forum ( comand-g: SF); t he pat h is Art s & Leisure Pavilion: Forums: Science

Fict ion, Fant asy & Horror: Alexandria Rest ored: In Print . And Ziff net ' s Sof t ware Cent er

(comm and-g: ZIFF); t he path is Comput er Center: Soft ware Central f rom Ziffnet / Mac:

Sofware Central: Member Exchange uploads: The Bookshelf.

The NYMUG BBS (New York Mac Users Group ) carries t he DOCmaker and PDF versions

in it s Elect ronic Pubs fo lder. Si r John ' s Pub BBS carries these versions in it s

soft ware files fo lder. (E-mail us fo r connect ion info.)

No In t e r n e t archive site exists y et, but we're working half-heart edly on it .

At 24 00 baud, t he text file t akes a few minut es to download, while the DOCmaker file t akes

about 1 5 minutes (set your modem t o "st un"). At 96 00 , though, t he DOCmaker version

t akes only about 5 minutes t o download. At 14 ,40 0 bps, download 'em all. The DOCmaker

version is the coolest (starting with Planet 1.3 , you can click on t he illustrat ions and get

a special surprise).

COPYRIGHTS, DISCLAIMERS

Planet Magaz ine as a whole, including all text , design, and illust rat ions, is copyright

19 95 by Andrew G. McCann. However, all individual sto ries and poems in this magazine

are copyright 1995 by their respective authors or artists, who have granted Planet

Magazine t he right t o use these works for t his issue in bot h elect ronic and print ed forms.

All people and events port rayed in this magazine are ent irely fict it ious and bear noresemblance t o actual people or events. This publicat ion has been registered wit h t he

Copyright Off ice of t he U.S. Library of Congress. You may freely dist ribut e t his magazine

elect ronically on a non-

commercial, nonprofit basis to anyone and print one copy for y our personal use, but you

may not alter or excerpt Planet in any w ay wit hout direct permission from t he publisher

(Planet [email protected]) . Planet Magaz ine is published by Cranberry St reet Press,

Brooklyn , N.Y., Andrew G. McCann, publisher.

C O L O P H O N

Composed on an Apple Quadra 605 using DOCmaker 4 .1, MacWrit e Pro 1 .5v3 , Tex-Edit

Plus 1.3 .4, and Adobe Exchange 2.0. Text is 10 point Geneva and 12 point Helvet ica; t he

logot ypes are Times. Illust rat ions done in Color It ! 2 .3 and Painter . Every issue

guarant eed Text urized wit h Smartol.



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Editorial & LettersBreakfast o f Godzil la: Traff ic Jam on Toast

A MAN, A PLAN, A CANAL, PALINDROME

Div ing he lm e t ? Check . Diving suit? Check. Leaded boot s? Chee-eck. All I need now

is t o procure t he oxygenat ing equipment. Just t hink of it : The First Man t o Walk t he

Mississippi. All t he way from t he Nort hern St ates t o the Lousiana Delt a. Slogging

t hrough the silt, wit h you, my friends, above me in the boat , keeping the sweet, sweet

breat h of life flowing down that t ube to my wat ery lit t le world below. It sounds crazy, I

know. But you know how you always hear people say, " I don't know what I want t o do wit h

my life! What am I going do? What am I gonna be? Well, I' ve found my t hing. It act ually

happened t o me. Suddenly, everyt hing...just...clicked. Everyt hing. And now it 's my whole

reason for being. I mean, I know it' s point less. But haven't you seen a lot of famous things

get done just for t he sake of doing t hem? Hey look at t hat guy, t he Human Fly, who scaled

t he World Trade Center back in the 8 0s t he Greed Decade. Remember how he

methodically rat cheted up t he corner of t hat soaring edifice? How he reached the t op,

t urned, paused ever-so-briefly, and gent ly let himself f all t oward t he roaring, antlike

crowd below and how, wit hin two, heart-st opping seconds, he sprout ed mechanical

gossamer wings, rising like a leaf in Gods own updraft t o disappear forever int o t he face of

t he sun? Now do you see? My greater, selfless act is to inspire people t o complete t heir

appoint ed tasks, whatever t hey may be, wit h bravado on t his grit t y plane of existence.

Bu t i t doesn ' t end t he r e , no . Next, Ill walk t he At lantic. Right across the water.

I've got t hese great litt le pontoon shoes bright red and yellow, so t he news helicopters

can see me. I put some frict iony sandpaper on the bot t oms of t he shoes, and I'll just go. Up

a wave and down t he other side. Up anot her, t hen down. Ideally, it won' t rain. But I'll be

used t o t hat , because walking under t he river will be like walking through solid rain. And

I'm gonna get some big sponsors t oo, like Kelloggs, and, well, at least Kelloggs, because

you've got t o eat a pret t y good breakfast before you walk across the ocean. I can just

picture those Frenchmen, hanging around on their coast, suddenly squinting out to sea:

"Zut A lors, what ees dat ? Ist das Limpet t ?" And I'll just come sliding down a wave, saying,

"Bonjour! Got anything t o eat ?"

Focusedly,Andrew G. McCann, EditorPlanet Magazine, June 1995

Planet Magazine 6 Page 5 Edit orial & Let t ers


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A NOTE TO READERS FROM OUR SIL ICON-BASED EDITORIAL BOARD

There is no doubt t hat Planet Magaz ine has a core of blindly loyal readers. Survey aft er

survey confirms it . Nonetheless, many readers have e-mailed us t o complain t hat far

from being the SF, fantasy, horror, etc., kind of zine that is being "advertised" Planet,

once downloaded, is in fact foo lish, immature, and point less.

Well... fine.

Permit us to respond thusly: To those who say Planet Magaz ine is silly, we say,

" Piff lewafflef eathers" ; t o t hose who say we're childish, we reply: "No, YOU are"; and to

those who claim this zine is irrelevant, we merely point to our long-running investigative

series, " Tricia Nixon: The Disco Years." Case closed.

With "Turing"-Tested Sincerity,The Grand Assembled Silicon-Based A.I. Editorial Board

GUEST EDITORIAL: EMOTICON LEXICON

Hey, online consumers! :) There's a brand-old fad in e-mail communication t hat I just

not iced! :( Emot icons! ;-> These are litt le t ypographical construct ions, like sideways

human faces, t hat help communicate your subt lest t hought s and moods! 8-0 You put t hese

symbols aft er a sentence t o show, for example, t hat a murderously sniping comment you

just made was really a joke! ;-P As a service to our readers, t he following list shows the

Top 10 emot icons downloaded from AOL and their generally accept ed definit ions! ?:^ ]

Top 10 Em o t i cons

Symbol Meaning

*&6 I've got t he flu, and my right eye is infect ed.

() ! Cyclops is sleeping peacefully.

(( = The saucer invasion has started.

{.: In t he kingdom of t he blind, Frost y is king.

||[ ~ The floor under my dresser is cracked.

c^ v* I'm one happy beat nik.

*9 9 I'm t aking t he overnight double-decker.

\ / , Turn down your stereo, please.

... It 's plantin' season.Po+ There's a helicopter fo llowing my wife.



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Special bonus: An ext ra five emot icons! :-+

Y2( I've had t ee many mart oonis.


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Once again, keep up t he great work. I'll start hunting for # 2 next t ime on-line.

Sincerely,

Mike

via eworld

[To those who request it, we will send out an alert each time an issue of Planet is posted.

For now, that' s probably the best we can do. Hope that 'll do.]

[ Editor' s note: The following is a recent review of Planet Magazine #1 from Ziff net/ Mac on

eWorld. The aut hor of t he review is associate sysop Gordon Meyer.]

" Plane t Magaz ine is a free, quart erly publicat ion f eaturing w orks in SF, Fant asy,

Horror, and Humor. The editor is Andrew G. McCann, and there are good number of

contributors (both writers and artists) to each issue.

In t he words of McCann, Planet is an " onl ine- int eract ive, v ir t ual-real i ty -specif ic,

int ernet-savvy, mult imedia-int ell igent , mag-t ronic e-zine that ' s most ly t ext ." Act ually,

it' s all that and more. Planet is well designed, interest ing, and a fun read. Planet Magazine

uses DocMaker to provide a Mac-only interact ive magazine. Just double-click and st art

reading.

This issue, Number 1 (March 19 94 ), f eat ures 4 SF stories, 4 poems, and 1 each of t he

Fantasy, Horror, and Humor genre. Of the select ions, I enjoyed t he horrorific " Tails of t he

Answering Machine." There's probably something here t hat you' ll enjoy, it' s a good

mixed-bag of entert ainment."

LETTERS TO "THEM"

Dear Sho r t Gr ey : I have built my own my st erious UFO, from which I use a secret ray

t o cont rol t he Eart h. Problem is, it 's get t ing a lit t le dull, and t he responsibilit y is really

becoming burdensome. D'ya t hink anyone would mind t erribly if I just st opped?

Buggin' out ,

Eugene C. Chut ney

Self-Abductee

Dear Body - Snat che r : Every morning, my human walks out t he apart ment door. I

figure he must be spending 8, maybe 10 hours per day out t here in the corridor. Wuzzup

wi dat ?

Cut ely,Kit t E. Harebal



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D ea r T r i f f i d : I propose a solut ion to t he ongoing controversy surrounding the National

Endowment for t he Arts support for unsavory artistic t ypes. Why not use the funding t o

pay for psychot herapy for t hese young art istes? Maybe then well see somet hing useful

out of t hem a Serrano keychain, perhaps, or even some Finley Brand Dessert Topping.

Sincerely,

Admiral Snout boy

[email protected]

D e a r T r i b b l e : I hope you dont mind me using your Lett ers column t o introduce my new

fragrance. I originally planned to call it Cheap Gravy, but quickly realized that wouldn't

be a big seller. Ive now renamed it Instant Gravy. Anyway, that s what it is, in fact .

Thank you f or your const ernat ion,

O. Dee Kohlony

Casey@bat .org

Dear Heechee: I don't use t he word "fabulous" lightly, but let me t ell you about my

recent spirit ual epiphanies. Like most people today, I'm t rying t o achieve self-realization

by following the dictates of a "channeled" entity in my case, Voldanar, who speaks

t hrough my ent ranced upst airs neighbor, Solly Banquet t e.

But you know, aft er a while I became a lit t le tired of schlepping up t wo f light s every night

(OK, I t ake the elevat or) t o get a daily dose of crypt ic mumblings via Solly. I mean, what

does this mean: " You are that which is, theref ore you is; and I are. I are am. So, for you t o

be me, be ALL t hat YOU can be. In here, or, in China or Canada...." I mean, it almost sounds

like he's making it up. I can't t ell you how many t imes I lost sleep over these myst ical

ramblings as my brain slowly turns in toasty twists of pretzel logic.

So, I started t hinking: Is t here a bet t er way? Why must we "channel" t hese ent it ies?

Why do we have t o slip Solly a t wenty every evening? And t hen I t hought, hey, why can'twe download such musings from an AOL data base, for example. Or, why can't Voldanar, or

whoever, have his own Home page on the Web? With links t o other ent it ies' pages! And a

browser could reach out and grab a PDF file cont aining all of t he lat est soul-spout ings.

And, come t o t hink of it , let 's bring the New Age up to t echno-speed by put t ing these

ent it ies on CD-ROM, wit h a boolean search engine. Y'know, t ype in " fut ure AND romance

BUT NOT dork," and see what you get . Should be much clearer, but I'll leave it up t o t he

"experts" t o work out t he det ails. I t ell ya, I don't know where my ideas come from.

Cye-bye,

Chad Igor

[email protected]



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Dear Klaa t u : I've recently discovered an addit ional basic particle of mat t er, which joins

t he ranks of t hose old st andbys t he electron, t he proton, and t he neutron. This particle is a

basic building block of food, in part icular: The Crout on. These toast part icles are relat ed to

the more fundamental "loaf" particles, which in turn derive from the very, very weak

force. The crouton, like t he neutrino, is notable for its ability t o move unimpeded through

more complex structures of matter, in particular The Lettucesphere.

Professorially,

Jer ry Bi l t

pict [email protected]

Dear V : Raising my dog as a human child has been diff icult but rewarding. Now, however,

his element ary school is t hreatening to expel him because his presence is "disrupt ive," o r

so they say. Yet my boy can "speak," " sit ," and "pay at t ention" as well as, if not bet t er

t han, any damn human. As I am poor, please send money t o help pay for my t eam of legal

beagles.

Obediently,

Aug E. Dawgi

[email protected]

Dear Bug - Eyed Mons t e r : Last mont h, a group of men in whit e came to my house early

on a Saturday and put paint all over t he front , sides, and back. Is it because t hey are t he

house paint ers whom I had hired?

Desperat ely,

Noah Goode Deall

[email protected]

Dear Van M or r i son : I'm the smartest person I know. That' s safe to say, because, I

figure, can we ever really know anyone else? Lately, t hough, I' ve begun to wonder if I

really even know myself, and whether I am qualified to make any st atement about myint elligence level at all. However, I' ve decided it ' s easier to just make darn sure t hat I

know myself bet t er than I know anybody else. And I'm going to be careful to avoid eye

contact and comment ary of a personal nat ure even when buying subway tokens. You can

bet my wife's none t oo happy with this decision! Ahhh, what t ya gonna do.

Gazing Inward, Ever More Deeply,

Paul C. Tremmer

via anon.penet.f i

P.S. Please don't respond t o t his lett er, I really don't want t o know.



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Science Fiction

UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

by Jason Clark

A m e o b i n D er v i n f l o w e d l i g h t l y t hrough the t hick syrupy liquid t hat was his home.

He navigated st ealthily between t he fibrous green st rands t hat comprised his people's

hunt ing grounds. Ameobin was on his first hunt , the glorious hunt !

Hiding behind a clump of t he fiber, Ameobin spot t ed his prey, a small black glob munching

harmlessly on anot her st rand. The thing had raised, green spots coat ing it and was aroundhalf Ameobin's size. Alt hough it knew of t he hunter's presence, it paid Ameobin no heed,

merely continuing its feast.

Planet Magazine 6 Page 11 Science Fict ion - Under t he Microscope


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Pushing off of t he st rand, Ameobin floated toward his prey. Wit h some effort he forced out

an appendage from his outer membrane. His prey was facing away and did not sense

Ameobin's approach unt il it was too late. As the prey turned to face t he predat or,

Ameobin's membrane flowed over t he lit t le glob, engulfing it . In a moment t he glob was

gone without a trace and Ameobin was cont ent t o lie in wait f or his hunger to rise again.

Joe Dav is l ooked up f r om h i s m ic r oscope . Oh, how he loved wat ching all the lit t le

micro-organisms feed. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at t he clock. He was late

for class! Rushing around t he room to get ready, he pressed a but t on on the microscope

labeled "TRANSFER TO CHIP." Depressing t he but t on, Joe sent Ameobin and all his world

into stasis. Time st opped for t hose in stasis, and Ameobin would cont inue his existence

when Joe turned on that chip again. Joe pulled t he chip out of t he microscope and tossed it

into a plastic container. On t he side was writ t en, " Amoebae 19 7." Joe left t he room,

t urning off t he light as he went.

Xe r o n L i f z e r l o o k e d u p f r o m h i s p o s i t r o n i c v i s u a l e n h an c e r and smiled as best

his scaled face would allow. How he loved wat ching all t he lit t le aliens rush about , doing

whatever it was t hat t hose low life-forms did with t heir minuscule lives. Looking at his

t imepiece, Xeron realized he was lat e for a lecture on the mult iple uses of t et rion

composit ions in high-gravit y fields. His third t ent acle whipped out and depressed a panel

on the enhancer. Joe and all his universe was t urned into dat a on a disk. Xeron pulled t he

disk out of it s slot and set it neat ly in it s container. Writt en on t he side was, " Universe

156."

St ory copyright 19 95 Jason Clark.

Planet Magazine 6 Page 12 Science Fict ion - Under t he Microscope


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THE TIME MADAM

By Brad Stone

Somet imes Sh i r ley and me p lay games a t n igh t . It depends on my mood. If it 's bad

at work, I'm not up to it . But on a day off , or if it 's quiet on t he st reet s, t here's no stopping

this cop's imagination.

We plan ahead. I t ell her I like somet hing prehistor ic, f rom t he dinosaurs. Lat er, she

surprises me, wit h a deerskin vest or a wooden club.

We saw a f lick about old England once and I got steamy. The next day she wears a long,

curvey t hing, moaning about her honor. I don't know where she get s all t he costumes.

Shirley likes anyt hing with cowboys. So I got hats and lassoes. I'm John Wayne with a

Brooklyn accent . My NYPD pist ol is a six-shoot er. She st ampedes.

Aft erwards we tangle up and talk about t he future. What it holds for us and for t he baby

we're trying to make.

* * *

Se r g e an t Mu l g r ew h a s a t h i n g f o r p r o s t i t u t e s . He doesn't like 'em, says they' re

filt hy slime st inkin' up his territory . They're always t he first t o come, he says, t he

whores with their gold-chained pimps. Then t he drug dealers. Then the gangs. Then t he

hardcore c riminals.

We've heard t his before.

"Hooked on smack. Anything for dope." He's got a personal hatred. The word is, one of 'em

bit down. I don't like t o think about it.

So Looch and I aren't allowed to cut t he hookers a break. Our street s are filled with ' em.

We spend something like half of our nights in the van, bringing in whores.

Rout ine never changes. They come out at night, f ind t heir men, t ake their dough, get high,

back by the next night.

Looch and I round 'em up like dogs. They smile, make kissey-face, say, "Come here honeys,

Emilio, Looch, we like a man in uniform." We lock 'em up. Doesn't do any good, t hey're

back t he next day, a regular crowd and we know all t heir names.

So I notice when t hey start t o disappear.

Planet Magazine 6 Page 13 SF - The Time Madam


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* * *

The n igh t Lacey Love van ishes , Looch and I joke about it . We'd taken the van out t hat

day. Lacey wasn't t here and we didn't t hink anyt hing of it.

"What , you gals found bett er street s than ours?" I ask Brenda Bush, behind bars. " We

don't get to see Lacey Love any more?" asks Looch.

Brenda get s sad. "No one sees Lacey no more." She shakes her head, wig almost falls of f .

"Lacey' s left t he st reets. Gone into business wit h a woman."

Looch and I look at each ot her. The only business Lacey Love knows is the back seat of a car.

"What woman?" Looch asks. We're bot h thinking dope.

Brenda shrugs. " A weird-looking t hing," she says. " Puff y cheeks. Big mink around her

neck, pink. And a ring." Brenda holds out her hands " t oo big for an old woman."

That was t he first we heard of her.

* * *

That night Shirley and I argue. I say "f emale cop." She gets mad, says I fool around at

work.

I t hrow my hands int o t he air.

"Don't give me t hat Emilio, I know you do!" She's out of t he bed, point ing.

I ask her where she get s t he not ion. "Perfume," she says.

I laugh and tell her again about t he hookers. She pouts. I pick up the phone, " Here, call

Looch."

She drops her head, sit s on t he bed. She doesn't move.

I curl up next t o her, put my hand on her st omach, snuggle my nose int o her neck. She

smiles, giggles.

"Female cop," I say.

She disappears int o the bat hroom, t akes my holst er and uniform. Comes back and arrests

me.

* * *



15/58

" Ou t , o u t , o u t , " g r o w l s Sg t . Mu l g r ew . Looch and I brought the girls through the

front door. Lost t he keys t o the pen.

"Out ," shout s Sgt . Mulgrew. He's holding his pants. We get t he keys, bring the girls

around back. They mill around like dogs, chat t ering. Head count .

One less t han usual. "Mona's gone," someone says.

I look at Looch. He's faking heart break.

"Get in the can," we say, locking t he bars. Looch leaves. I stay and call Brenda Bush over.

She smiles, coyly , "You want some of t his, Emilio?"

"Where's Mona?" I ask.

Brenda runs her hand through t he fake nest on her head. "Went int o business," she says.

"Gonna make good money."

"Same as Lacey Love?" I ask.

Brenda nods. " Old woman wit h puffy cheeks. Mink and a ring. She asked me, too, you

know." Brenda gives me eyes.

"What kind of business," I say t o Brenda.

"Good money," she says. "That's all I know."

"What kind of business," I say, squeezing her hand. The ot her whores are looking.

Brenda pulls away and shrugs. "Not for me t o say."

"Why'd you say no?" I ask Brenda.

" Not leaving my cat," she says lamely, eyes lowered. " No money wort h leaving Marvin."

Brenda t urns and walks away. Hiding somet hing.

* * *

Looch and I are in t he van , t alking about women. Looch has t ons of ' em, one everynight . He brags about it.

"Not me," I say. "Got Shirley. We have a past t oget her. Share a fut ure."



16/58

He shakes his head. " St upid mot herfucker. Dumb, dumb, Emilio. You don' t know what

you're missing."

" I'm not missing anyt hing."

"A new carton every day and you're milk won't go bad," he says, flashing teet h.

"You're gonna run outt a women, Looch," I say. "Got t a think about t omorrow."

"Fuck it ," says Looch. "The fut ure can wait."

" It 's gonna be you and the whores," I joke. " The only women for you." I look over at t he

sidewalk t o point , see Barbara Boot y . . .

. . . Talking t o an old woman wit h mink around her neck.

" St op t he car," I yell.

* * *

I c r oss t he s t r ee t w i t h Looch behind m e . We're almost run down by a t ruck,

beeping.

The two women look over. Barbara does her usual thing, screams "rape!" and runs for a

warehouse.

Not t he old woman. The old woman's graceful, like a bird. She moves without her feet .

Glides.

Looch and I make the sidewalk, running. " Who is she?" he yells.

" Freeze," I scream, down an alley, gun waving.

Dead end. We t urn around, there's no old woman. No mink. A litt le smoke, and a smell,

like lemons.

* * *

Sh i r l ey sees I' m in a nast y m ood t ha t n igh t , so it 's quiet at dinner. St eak and

fr ies, silently. I chew and think.

Af t erwards, TV and cuddling. She lays on my lap, I put my hand on her belly. She looks up

and smiles.

I say, "What?" She nods.



17/58

I st and up, throw my hands in t he air. Hah! Emilio a fat her!

We lay on the coach and I list en to her st omach. Litt le Emilio.

Litt le Shirley. I look into her eyes and see an old woman, next t o me in t he sun.

We giggle into bed, t roubles gone. She says, "What t ime?" I look at my wat ch,

"Nine- th i r ty . "

"No," she says, "What t ime t onight?"

I smile and t hink. I say, "The fut ure. The next cent ury. When we' re old."

She grins and I see her mind, racing. She disappears into her closet , comes back an old

woman, rouge on her cheeks, a sweat er around her neck.

I t ell her t o put on a ring, t he biggest she has.

Great sex.

* * *

Head count . One less. Looch looks over, frowning. No one says anyt hing, t hey' re quiet,

waiting for us to f igure it out.

"Barbara Boot y." Looch and I say it at t he same time.

"Where is she?" I say.

Quiet . The girls are looking down, counting floor t iles.

"Brenda," I say.

Quiet.

"Brenda!" She comes over, pulling on her wig.

" You finally come around, Emilio?" she asks. Doesn't mean it, she's nervous.

" Who is she? I ask. " Where's Barbara? Who's t he old woman?"

She picks at her head, not t alking.

" Selling drugs?" I ask.

Brenda sniffs.



18/58

"How's Marvin?" I say.

Brenda st art s to cry . Big ugly t ears, and t he water wells up in the scars on her cheek.

" We wouldn't want Marvin t o get hurt , right ?"

Looch put s his hand on my shoulder. " Easy," he says.

"You got somet hing t o tell us?" I ask. "A drug ring?"

She shakes her head. Sobs, " I can't ."

I look at Looch. He shrugs.

* * *

W e t a l k i t o v e r w i t h Se r g e a n t M u lg r e w . " The best t hing I heard all week," he

shouts, hand of f groin. "Good news."

"Why good?" I ask. " Not if t hey're selling drugs."

"No, no," says t he sergeant . "Not drugs. They're moving on."

"That 's not what t he girls say," says Looch. "They' re going with an old woman, doing

business."

" I know," nods the sergeant . "Believe me, I know. She's a madam, t aking them to a bet t er

neighborhood."

I sigh. " I don't t hink so, Sarge. Woman's rich, wears jewelry."

Looch says, "She's not going to make any money off those skanks."

The sergeant st ands and lights a Cuban. "Someone else's problem, boys, not ours."

I look at Looch, he's t hinking it over. Nods and says, "Fine."

"We dodged a bullet ," says t he sergeant . "No pimps. A lit t le drugs. No gangs. No hardcore

criminals. Whores are always the first of 'em. Not t his t ime. We got away easy."

I shake my head. Somet hing's out t here, hovering.

* * *



19/58

Sh i r l ey ' s nauseous t ha t n igh t , doesn ' t eat . We sit in front of the TV, not watching.

It ' s quiet in bed when I say, " Indian."

She says, "Nat ive American, you mean."

" What ever," I say. " I'll be t he chief."

"Not t onight," she moans. " I'm not f eeling well." She t urns her back.

"Okay, okay," I say. "No costumes. The '9 0s can get me going, t oo."

She doesn't laugh.

I give her some room and st are at t he ceiling. The plaster's f alling and I listen t o a couple

downst airs, they' re fight ing. And I can hear a baby, crying.

Shirley, breat hing.

Think hard, Emilio, it 's right t here. Whores disappearing. An old woman, wearing mink.

Jewelry. Rich. She want s st reet hookers. I look down at t he dirt y brown carpet and see a

cowboy hat .

Nothing makes sense. I get up, get dressed. Wear all black.

* * *

Fo u r i n t h e m o r n in g , t h e p a y - o f f . Brenda's talking t o the dark. Someone's in t he

shadows, holding her hand.

"The late 20 t h cent ury is in st yle, dear." An old, soothing voice.

" It 's all the rage. Makes my customers crazy."

Brenda's sniffing, mumbles somet hing about "how it s going to feel."

" It 's like a large hole. You step t hrough."

" I don't t hink I can do it ."

I nudge my head furt her, trying t o see in the dark. There's a large shadow wit h moonlight

in front . I see a feat her, st icking out .

" You have a skill, my dear. Market it . You're in demand where I come from."

The feat her is st range, like t he end of something. A coat ? It ' s pink. I st ret ch furt her.



20/58

"There's not hing for you here. Come with me."

"Will I feel anything?" Brenda's stuttering voice.

There's no answer. I st ret ch furt her. Silence. I see t he feat her is mink, and it ' s wrapped

around the shadow of an old woman.

" Ms. Jivids?" Brenda t urns around, looks at me.

I look at myself and see moonlight, shining on my chest. I st ep out , draw my gun.

"Now everyone freeze," is what I manage.

The old woman pulls Brenda by t he hand, charges down alley. It t akes a second and then I'm

chasing them. She glides, fast er than me and it 's not hing like I've ever seen. But t he end of

the alley's coming and they're trapped.

" St op," I yell, pointing t he gun.

The old woman and Brenda turn. She's whispering somet hing.

Brenda looks at me, t errified.

"St ep away," I yell. " Let go of her." I cock the pistol, aim at t he old woman.

A moment of silence.

Brenda screams, " I can't do it ! I can't do it !" and pulls wildly at her hair.

The old woman looks down, holds her hand out . Wit h her other hand she does something to

t he ring. Then a bright light , it' s blinding and I shield my eyes.

When I fo rce a look, I see t he old woman wit h her arm around Brenda, pulling her int o t he

light. Brenda's kicking and screaming. For t he first t ime I see t he old woman's face

clearly, it s pale and long. Cheeks are puf fy, no eyebrows. Haunt ing.

Something falls onto the ground.

Then there's darkness again. I'm alone in the alley and t here's a smell, like lemons.

* * *



21/58

I in spec t t he scene and f i nd t wo t h ings. First , Brenda's wig, black and wormy . I

don't t ouch it. Kick it t o the side and leave it f or the dogs.

Then a business card, under a layer of dirt and shoeprint s. I pick it up, dust it of f. It' s

not hing like I' ve ever touched, weight less, on silver paper. There are holographic words

on one side:

I go hom e t o Sh ir l ey . The sun's coming out . Two hours until I'm back to t he off ice. I

stand over t he bed, looking at her.

Then I look down at t he floor and see the cowboy hat . I pick it up, fold it in my hands. No

one will believe it . I slide in next t o Shirley and t hink.

On the bright side, Jivids has probably left t he neighborhood. She won't risk coming back.

She knows I'm onto her, but knows I can't do a damn thing about it.

The other side's much worse. I t hink of what Sergeant Mulgrew said. Whores are always

t he first . Then t he drug dealers. Then t he gangs. Then t he hardcore criminals. There's a

buck to be made on the past and t he fut ure is coming back to cash in. Like a snake, eat ing

it s own tail, feasting on hist ory.

Jivids to ld Brenda t he '90s are all the rage. So t here will be more of t hem, and t here's

nothing we can do. Looch was wrong about t he future, it won't wait .

I put my hand on Shirley's belly and close my eyes, but I just can't sleep.

St ory copyright 19 95 Brad St one.



22/58

THE PLAINS OF MEER

by Simon Joseph

The f i s t - s i zed s t one was py r am id shaped , perfect ly cut on all sides, and clear as

glass. I didn't t hink t he geology of Thetus permit t ed diamonds. I had found it near the edge

of a t idal pool on my morning walk up the Nort h Beach. I immediat ely adorned my

one-room bungalow with t he mystery rock, displaying it on a drift wood t able. There was

no one to share t his find wit h. I lived alone on Thetus, as a woman who sought her fate in

the solitude of this big blue world.

That night I lay on my bunk nearing sleep. The eyes were heavy, half dreaming of a st orm

out at sea. Only half dreaming because I could still hear t he surf roaring out side. One eye

opened lazily to spy on the rock once more. Light danced off t he mult isided st one. Thinwhit e beams flashed across t he room, sweeping the dark. The rays bounced from wall to

wall, flickering about .

A man runs barefoot on t he wet hard-packed sand of low t ide. His unrelent ing stride dances

t o a beat , forward in rhyt hm. Sweating in his tat t ered clothes. Moving, hurrying, get t ing

somewhere. I am a bird gliding high above, crisscrossing the runner's pat h. Af t er

Planet Magazine 6 Page 22 SF - The Plains of Meer


23/58

st raying far ahead I double back, dive down and dart pass the man. His face t ransfixed,

arms swinging wildly under st riding legs. I circle above t he human projectile and our

mot ions lock in tandem. I hear voices in the man's movement, " Ant icipat e there, adjust

here, foo t ing soft , veer right , st raddle over, find line, maint ain, pace, second wind, surge

now, forward, fast er." Legs alt ernat e each lunging st ep with machine-like continuity ,

rot at ing like a windmill. The arms swing back and fo rt h maint aining balance. I descend

again and glide past t he man. The limbs are a mayhem of movement but t he head is locked

forward, bounding only t o t he runner's inertia. The eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking,

possessed, fixed on a dest iny imagined or real. The open mout h is seemingly breathless. I

climb against a st rong sout hernly wind. The man is running nort h. Like broken sails his

ragged shirt and trunks flail behind him. He is impervious knifing int o t he ocean gust,

skimming t he coast wit h a thousand st rides.

Lines of white energy tapped my forehead. I stared at one beam, a photon torpedo that was

paper-thin and inches wide. I fo llowed it t o t he ceiling corner and drift ed to sleep again.

From one dream I stumbled on to another.

Everyt hing ceases. The man is kneeling on the sand, head bowed down before me, his hands

holding my robe like a repent ant Christ ian. The man and I are st atues wit h frozen

gestures. There is no urge to speak. I only want t o st and above him. The man kneels

repentant , for his own sake or mine it doesn't mat t er. Thoughts are too st ill here. Even

where the ocean pounds the shores, wit h t he wind-blasted sands, and t he dune grasses

crackling like fire. Here we stand and kneel, if only t o cry out , "Look, look Thetus!" Alive

all around us with her chaos of f orces, my planet she listens, she sees. The sea falls away,

t he winds leave t he sand, and the grasses become silent . Now I can breat he st illness. Our

heart s have stopped beating. The man grips my robe and t he side of his head presses

against my t high. My hands rest on his shoulders as I look out over the calm ocean. Thetus

knows. Knows t ranquilit y reigns.

The rock glowed a soft whit e hue in my room. I staggered off t he bunk and approached it . I

had not imagined t he wild lights earlier. Diamond or not , no crystal in this universe

exhibited these properties. I picked up the st one. It was warm and shone red t hrough my

fingers. How real is t his? With t he st ranger on Thet us.

I put t he cryst al back down. Turning away I found a window and looked out int o t he night .

It was dark. There were no lights, no running man, nor a kneeling one. Just t he sea. Just

me, Mara, alone on Thet us. Why was t he man running, and kneeling before me?

I could see t he glow out of t he corner of my eyes. I t urned and saw a shower of rays arcing

and angling int o a wild, gleaming mat rix. I quickly looked down. Each light a channel to

another place, t o the visions. How? The visions felt so real. I not iced t wo beamsconverging at my f eet .

The man t hat same man stands beside a ship. Not an ocean ship. It stands on the shores

of Thet us, a tall metallic egg propped on t hree spindly legs. The incoming t ide begins to fill

t he darkened crat er underneath. A ship for t he stars. The man is poised, standing at



24/58

at t ent ion, his suit gleaming blue and silver. An entry mat erializes on the egg' s silver

shell. He climbs inside and I follow. We st and on a mirrored floor and the space bet ween

us is small. An oct agonal room. The walls are black, st reaked wit h long curving st rokes of

whit e, red, and blue pinprick lights. St rips of t he universe one beside t he other, making a

wallpaper of st ars, nebulas, and galaxies. The man point s t o one bright speck. Flash of

red. " Away," he says with his eyes. But t o where? The man smiles, "Where the angels

dance, on t he plains of Meer."

I stood in t he bungalow doorway and wit nessed an int ricat e geometry of light s. From every

angle whit e lines bounced on the walls, floor, and ceiling. I was drawn by t he diamond' s

web of light.

"No!"

I fled out in the moonless night , running towards the beach. I stumbled on the loose sand.

My chest pounded making me fight f or breat h. Scrambling to get away I followed the

shoreline. I t urned t o look back. A pinpoint beam dart ed out of t he house. It moved closer

not at once, not at t he speed of light extending it s reach t oward me. I t umbled forward

crying out and fell int o t he surf.

I know t hat place, Meer. On t he other side of t he galaxy, as green wit h grass as Thetus is

blue wit h t he sea. The man grins, "We are here." We step out side t he craft . Orange light

makes the eyes t urn away, blazing. He spreads his hand to t he horizon and I see waves of

t all grass racing up a sloping field. We are in a valley. I f ollow him. Af t er a while, he

stops and t urns to me. Behind him I see an oddly shaped building. Beyond it many more

line t he green slope. Weat hered and rusty looking like old corrugated st eel. Half-moon

shaped. He point s t o the building near us. The man is sad. His suit glist ens under the

bright sunlight .

I was kneeling in water. A wave crashed into me and knocked me back. I crawled out of t he

surf, coughing out seawater. I found dry sand and lay t here, sprawled on my stomach, cold,

exhausted. My eyes opened. Lights sparkled off t he white-water.

We ent er the strange building. A body lies st ill. A man wit h eyes closed. Wires in his

skull. I kneel beside t he cot and pull them f rom his head one by one. The man opens his

eyes, smiles. He is not sad like his ref lect ion st anding nearby. The light is blinding. I f eel

his joy now, his freedom a super nova. I am lying down and I see him st anding above me.

The wires inside my head make me st ill. I am on Meer. The man is walking on the beach on

Thet us. No longer running, no longer kneeling fo r forg iveness. A cryst al is in his hand.

He turns t o face t he ocean and t hrows the st one far over the waves. I see a splash, wat ch it

descend in t he murky wat er. It sinks int o t he green-t o-blue-to-black, t o a place ofunlight . I lie in t he dark. Helpless under t he half-moon ceiling. Longing to run on t he wet

sand, wild with freedom. To kneel for forgiveness wit h tranquil heart . I am wait ing for

t he cryst al t o wash ashore. To dance it s light again, like the angels on the plains of Meer.

St ory and illust ration copyright 19 95 by Simon Joseph.



25/58

T HE PARCHMENT

by James Bayers

His Em inence , Has f r a , Docen t o f t he K ing ' s Chu r ch , sat in his high-backed chair,

one leg casually t hrown over an armrest , and sipped his t ea. For t he moment , he ignored

t he old monk who was try ing to gain his at t ent ion. He ignored him not because he was busy

or out of any necessity, he ignored him to intimidate, t o show the elder just how low of aposition he held.

The monk, t rembling now, cleared his t hroat nervously. Hasfra looked up as he sipped his

t ea; he knew this would be a complete waste of t ime and it irritat ed him t o no measure.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Planet Magazine 6 Page 25 Fant asy - The Parchment


26/58

As if lashed by a whip, the old man visibly f linched. " I ... I ..." he st ammered, " I beg

audience with you, milord Docent ."

"Out w ith it ," said Hasfra. He was bored.

" His Maj ... His Majest y has doubled the t ax yet again t his year. My congregat ion barely

made the t ax last year. There is no possibly way we can come up wit h such a sum. Crops

have not been that good..." The monk stopped and wait ed for his Docent t o reply.

The Docent , still sipping his tea, did not respond for a long while nor did he look at t he

monk. Finally, he spoke in a near whisper. " Get out before I kill you." He carefully sat

his cup down on t he table.

St unned, his mout h dropping open, the old man hesitat ed. " But ... But ..."

Leaping to his feet, t he Docent whipped his sword free from it s sheat h. "Are you deaf,

man?" he roared, kicking the monk so hard t hat it knocked him down. " I said get out !"

Holding his sword in one hand, aiming vicious kicks at t he scrambling elder's legs, the

Docent pursued him relent lessly. " How dare you come to me with such t rivial mat t ers

when our good King wages war in the name of God and Church?"

The monk was in t ears now. " I'm sorry milord," he sput t ered. Regaining his feet , he

dart ed for t he ent rance, but not before t he Docent got in one last kick.

When t he old monk was gone, Hasfra, closed t he door, walked over to t he table, picked up

his cup of t ea, t ook a sip, and let out a chuckle. Once word of t his got out , the ot hers would

not seek his audience so readily. Their complaints were a drain on precious t ime t hat could

better be spent on other endeavors.

Didn't t he fools see? Every vict ory of t he King brought more land and people under t he

Church's cont rol. More land and people were good for t he King, good for t he Church, and

good for the Docent.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Enter."

It was Brot her Leppe, a sof t fleshed man who had lost any idealism decades ago and was now

t horoughly jaded. He carried the red, ceremonial robes over his arm.

"There are no other appointments this afternoon, your Eminence," said the monk in a bored

tone.



27/58

The Docent st ood while Leppe draped t he robes over his shoulders. St anding back and

appraising his work, Leppe gave a nod and t he two made t heir way through the maze of

st airs, corridors and halls, t hat made up t he Basilica.

* * *

The wal l s o f t he cat hed r a l t owe r ed ove r h im . High above, shaft s of mult i-colored

sunlight st reamed in through st ained-glass windows. Skillfully craft ed, the windows

depicted scenes from t he early days of t he Church. There was Urg put t ing the Word down

on t he scrolls, Onep driving the demons out from t he Good Land, and Swo feeding t he poor

wit h help from God himself. Many more were represented and all stood in stern judgment

over Hasfra, but Hasfra ignored t hem.

The Docent chant ed t he Elt ide Prayer while he lit t he t welve candles t hat represented t he

t welve months of t he year. Aft er he complet ed a verse of t he lengthy, complex chant , the

chorus of monks, chosen for t he purit y of t heir voices, would sing it back t o him, their

beaut iful voices echoing t hrough t he cavernous chamber.

"Good Lord, bless us wit h a bount iful harvest t his year," he chant ed as he lit a candle.

" Good Lord, bless us with a bount iful harvest t his year," sang t he monks in reply.

"Good Lord, bless the folk so t hat t hey may multiply," he chant ed, light ing anot her candle.

"Good Lord, bless the folk so that they may multiply," sang the monks.

Having performed t he ceremony dozens of t imes, the Docent' s thoughts drift ed. If t he

Mort uro campaign was successful it would bring another twenty t housand souls into t he

Church.

Twenty t housand would t ithe two t housand in gold each year. Two t housand gold would buy

one t housand more soldiers...

"Good Lord, bless t hose t hat forgive for t hey are the virtuous."

"Good Lord, bless t hose t hat f orgive for t hey are the virt uous...."

* * *

Sp a r k s b u r s t f o r t h a s Mo d i n , High Prefect of t he Ironhammer Clan, Defender of t heFaith, slammed his hammer down upon t he red, glowing bar of iron again and again. Each

strike perfect ing the piece, molding the piece int o a perfect match f or t he blade he saw in

his mind's eye.



28/58

He quickly lost himself in the rhythm of his work and soon fell into a t rance. The st eady

beat of t he hammer, t he flame, t he forge; this wasn't work, t his was how he communed

with his god.

The heat f rom t he forge was intense. Sweat beaded on his brow and shined t hrough the

woolly mass of whit e hair that covered his arms and chest . Light f rom t he flames glinted

from the dwarf's eyes, giving him an almost maniacal visage.

"Fast er dogs!", he roared at his two young apprentices who were pumping t he billows,

" Fast er, ere I'll use yer blood to t emper my st eel."

The two, already pumping frant ically, look at each ot her in momentary disbelief, t hen

redoubled their efforts.

Suddenly a t winge of pain lanced through the dwarf' s chest . Modin st opped and clutched his

right arm. He couldn't breat he...

The extra air roared t hrough the forge and gave life t o t he fire. A face had formed wit hin

t he flames. Coals made up it s eyes and it had ashes for a beard. The Prefect stared on in

disbelief as t he face spoke.

" Modin!" it cackled.

The old dwarf fell t o his knees. " Is... Is t hat you lord?"

" Who do you think it would be," it replied t ersely, " and get up! Didn't I t ell ye t o prostrat e

yerselves before none?"

"We... We... t hought you meant t o prostrate ourselves before none but you, lord." He stood,clasping his hands together.

"Idiots!"

"Yes, lord."

"Modin, you've grown into a pompous ass of late. I command you to cast of f your eart hly

possessions and wander t he world unt il you have learned humilit y."

The face in the flames whirled about and disappeared.

St unned, Modin found himself on t he floor. Pain t ore t hrough his chest like some small,vicious animal was t rying t o claw its way out . Tears blurred his vision and his breath

came in gasps.

The two apprent ices, mouths open, were st aring at him. One helped him t o his feet.



29/58

" Milord?" one asked t imidly, "are you alright ? You fell."

The old dwarf blushed as he realized the two had not seen t he face in the flames. No doubt

t hey would run t o t ell Ut alin, High Priest of t he Ironhammers.

"Get out !," he snapped, finding it necessary t o support himself by leaning against t he wall.

When they didn't move fast enough for him, he snat ched the hammer up and t hrew it at

them.

"Get out I t old you!"

The note he left was short and to the point:

"Do not come after me as God has commanded me to go out onto the world and learn humility.

See that all of my possessions and moneys are dist ributed amongst t he poor and needy.

God said that some of our scriptures are in error. When he said t hat we are to prost rate

ourselves before none, he included himself in t hat .

Modin, Prefect of t he Ironhammer Clan, Defender of t he Faith."

* * *

She walked w it hou t f ea r t h r ough t he g loom y woods , up the twisty, overgrown

t rail t o t he hilltop above. A cool breeze rust led her long black hair as she entered t he

clearing. In the cent er of which a ring of st one st ood out stark whit e against t he dark grass

in the moonlight .

Beaut iful she was. She knew that because of the way men behaved around her. Some menacted like lit t le children; some men stared, like t hey were starving and she was food. But

t onight she wouldn't dance for t hem, she would dance for Her, the moon above. Her

mistress shone above huge and white in the autumn night sky.

Nilly unt ied t he drawstring t hat fast ened her gown and slowly let it fall to t he ground. The

soft light fell across her, exaggerat ing her ample curves.

She began to dance. Holding her arms above her, she gent ly swayed her hips as she turned,

keeping t he beat within her in t ime with t he cricket' s chirp.

As she danced, she prayed. She prayed for a mild winter. She prayed for an abundant

spring. She prayed t hat young Mali would have an easy pregnancy . Finally, she prayedt hat she and her sisters would be delivered from t he Docent.

The last made her stop. Nilly didn't feel like dancing any more.



30/58

All witches were t o be burned, decreed the Docent, t heir evil would not be allowed t o sway

the common folk from t he true path any longer. God was good and God said that t here was t o

be no ot her before him.

For cent uries, way before t here was any Church, her sisterhood had t aken care of t he

people. They healed them when they were sick, they brought t hem int o t he world, and t hey

returned them t o t he earth when they passed on. Now, the very same people cheered as her

sist ers were bound to stakes and burned.

A t ear caught a glimmer of moon light as it t rickled down her cheek. The tear came out of

sadness, yes, but it also came out of f rust ration. She would not sit idly by t o be found out

and murdered. She would act . Nilly was not sure of exact ly what she would do, but as she

pulled on her gown and started back down t o t he valley below, she was sure that she was

going to do something.

* * *

Hi s f a ce t u r n in g r e d w i t h t h e e f f o r t , Modin st rained against t he lever of his

crossbow's winch. Finally, wit h a click, t he ratchet caught . He sighed a sigh of relief. The

works must be get t ing in need of oil, he thought . Holding the stock between his legs, he

forcefully shoved the cable down into t he metal lock.

A scream. It must be the woman he saw from the hillt op. He had watched from t here as

red-t uniced Church Soldiers dragged her to t he edge of t he field and ordered the mob of

peasants that followed to assemble t inder and erect a st ake. There was no doubt t hat t hey

were going to burn her.

Concealed from view by t he bank, he examined t he bolt he pulled from his quiver wit h a

practiced eye. Grumbling, he held it at arms length so t hat his eyes could focus on it.Entirely made of metal, except for the feathers that it needed to fly straight, the shaft was

t ipped by a needle sharp point of steel. Dropping it int o t he grove of t he crossbow, Modin

knocked it to the cable.

Keeping his weapon pointing skyward, t he Prefect grunt ed as he stood. Plucking his

halberd from t he ground, he climbed t he t rail t o st and in full view of t he humans.

At first t hey didn't not ice him. They were nearly finished binding the woman to t he stake.

She struggled frant ically against her capt ors. At one point lashing out wit h her foot t o

catch some unwary peasant in t he nether regions.

Seeing that , Modin raised his eyebrows. Even when she's about t o meet her doom, wheremost would be weeping and pleading for mercy, she's defiant. The Prefect would never

condone that kind of behavior, but he admired it .

"May God ' ave pity on yer soul wit ch," said one of t he Church Soldiers, a captain by t he

insignia on his red t unic. A peasant placed a t orch in his hand.



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" Worry about y our own soul," she yelled back, still struggling against t he ropes, " what

you're doing here today will be one day known as the act of evil t hat it is."

"You'll be repent ing soon enough..." The soldier made ready to drop t he t orch.

"Hold!" barked Modin in the voice he used to snap the knot of fear in the stomachs of young

dwarven warriors.

He had t heir at t ent ion now. " Hold I say." He marched fo rward, plate mail clanking, and

when he got w it hin ten yards, he jabbed t he point of his halberd in t he ground and held his

crossbow with bot h hands, t he but of it braced firmly against his shoulder. There were

five of t hem. Fully armed and armored soldiers of t he Church. He knew he didn' t st and a

chance.

"What be t ' meanin' o' t his dwarf?" asked t he capt ain incredulously, "be ya st andin' in t'

way o' Church law?"

"Nay, I be st andin' in the way of ignorance and stupidity. Now st and down, ere meet t he

consequence."

Modin, squinting one eye shut, cocked his head from one side to t he next . He t hen took a

step t o the side.

The Church Soldier studied the dwarf' s crossbow nervously. He had never seen such

before. It was ent irely made of met al and had a slew of pulleys and winches at t ached t o it.

" Yer but one. We're five. Ya cannot kill us all." He raised his shield to prot ect his

midsection.

" No," replied the dwarf, st ill squint ing and reposit ioning himself w it h small st eps, " No.

No doubt some of you will out run me."

Flushing wit h anger, t he captain tossed t he torch ont o t he kindling, drew his sword, and

started forward.

Modin yanked t he crossbow' s lever. The force of t he launch nearly knocking him over, t he

bolt hissed through the air too fast for eyes to follow.

Wit h t he smacking of metal on metal, gasps and shouts, t hree of t he Church Soldiers fell t o

t he ground like puppets who just had t heir st rings cut. One lay t wit ching, the ot her two,

one of which was t he captain, a hole punched through his shield, were st ill.

Dropping t he crossbow, t he dwarf dart ed over and yanked his halberd f rom t he ground.

Bellowing like some crazed demon, he swung t he pole arm in great arcs as he rushed

forward.



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That was enough for t he crowd of peasants. They scatt ered like hens from a fox.

The soldiers, mere yout hs, held their ground for a moment . Eyed t heir fallen comrades,

t hen eyed the dwarf, dropped t heir weapons and ran.

" It was about t ime you got here," she said tersely as he kicked away t he burning kindling

with his plated foot .

He cut her loose wit h his dirk. " Eh?" he said, raising his bushy eyebrows, " do we know

each other?"

"Yes," she replied as she rubbed her wrists, then a confused look crossed her face, "I mean

no. I mean I summoned you."

Modin, looking over his shoulder, pushed her t oward t he woods. " Now's no t ime for t alking.

Let 's get going."

* * *

W i t h a p l a t e d a r m a r o u nd h e r w a i s t , Modin herded the stumbling girl toward the

woods line as fast as he could. There was no way of knowing how long it would t ake

reinforcements t o arrive and he didn't want t o t ake any chances.

Under t he canopy of t he trees, safe f or t he moment , t hey st opped to cat ch their breat h, or

at least t he dwarf did. Leaning against a t ree for support , Modin breat hed heavily. Aches

and twinges shot t hrough his body. He pulled a rag from his war harness he always

ordered his underlings t o carry a clean rag into bat t le to wipe t he blood and sweat from

one's eyes or to use as a bandage and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Leaning over, she wrapped her arms around t he dwarf and planted a wet kiss on him wit h

her full red lips.

" Hey," he sputt ered, jumping back, pushing her away, his already f lush f ace t urning

crimson. " Lay off !"

She laughed. It was a clear, f ull laugh, like t hat of g lass t inkling. " I was only t rying t o

t hank you," she said, placing her hands on her hips, " I wasn't t rying t o kill you."

"Well..." The Prefect vigorously rubbed the wet spot on his forehead wit h his rag. " Don't

do t hat again. It was my dut y t o save you because, unlike t hose idiots, I knew you were

innocent . Wit ches don't exist. They're something conjured up by t he powers-t hat -be forthe populace-at-large to blame, instead of laying the blame at the feet of the

powers-that-be where it belongs."

He start ed t o walk, winding his way around the t rees.



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She fo llowed him. " But I am a witch."

Modin turned toward her, his eyebrows knit t ed t oget her and his mout h slight ly opened.

She's t ouched, he t hought, t hose cret ins had found some poor addled child and convict ed her

of witchery.

She saw his expression and correct ly took it f or one of disbelief. " It ' s t rue. I am a wit ch

like my mot her was a wit ch and her mot her before her."

"Nonsense," blurt ed Modin who had began t o wonder what he had got t en himself into. "Look,

you can't follow me."

She followed him. " I perform rit es t o t he moon, sun, and the equinoxes. I ensure the crops

will bear bountiful harvests and help women with child birth."

"Bah!" he said, picking up t he pace in t he hopes of leaving her behind. " So what if you do?

You could prost rat e yourself before pigs and dance upon lily pads. You' re no more a wit ch

t han I am."

With her long legs she kept up easily. " I summoned you here, didn't I?"

"Pt we!" He spit. "Coincidence. Nothing more." Modin was beginning t o get irritat ed.

"Now stop following me." He changed direct ion.

She followed him. " When I was arrested, I prayed to t he sun, wind, and earth f or

deliverance. They answered my prayers by sending you."

He spun toward her and grasped her arm. His face had reddened and he spoke through

clenched teet h. " Blaspheme! Look you, you may believe every word you are saying, but Iknow it not t o be t rue. Now stop f ollowing me or I'll... I'll..."

She towered over him. " Or you'll what?" she ret ort ed, placing her clenched fist s on her

hips.

The dwarf looked at her blankly for a moment t hen said, " I' ll take you over my knee."

"Eww!" she squealed, flut t ering her long eye lashes, and clasping her hands before her.

"That sounds like fun."

" Argh!" blurt ed Modin, reddening. Turning his back on her, he marched off in t he opposit e

direction.

She followed him.



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" Now see here," he growled, spinning around t o face her, pointing wit h a mailed finger, his

bushy eyebrows lowered down over his eyes in a scowl. " I saved you from t he st ake and my

responsibilit y ends t here. It 's very dangerous where I'm going.

You can't follow me."

" I t oo, am going t his way."

He gave her a look t hat would make a young dwarven warrior ruin his pants. " Why?"

" I'm going to Navarit h by t he Sea."

The hairs stood up on his neck. He was going t o Navarith by t he Sea. "And what will you do

there?"

She shrugged. " I am going t o kill the Docent ."

The Prefect 's mout h dropped open, and he paled considerably. He was going to Navarith by

t he Sea to kill t he Docent .

"As God is my wit ness!" b lurted the Prefect , "I wish I never would've rescued you." He

t hrew his arms over his head, did an about face, and marched off into t he underbrush,

angrily smashing shrubs and vines underfoot and slashing what he couldn't smash with his

halberd.

"There's a road a mile or so that way," she shouted after him, "it is not so well traveled.

You will be safe."

* * *

Mod in cursed as he st ared down into t he depths of his ale. He had just returned from

reconnoit ering t he Basilica and had found t he place t o be impenet rable.

Sit t ing here in this t avern he found, it s t ables, benches, and sawdust floor, he pondered his

opt ions. There weren't many. Modin, his situat ion looking bleaker by the moment , sighed.

" Mind if I sit?" she said as she sat , not giving him t ime t o respond.

"Eh," he made a noncommit t al noise, not looking up. It was her. The girl he had rescued

from the Church Soldiers.

"Don't we look long in the face," she said.

Modin took a long pull on his mug. "So, have we killed t he Docent yet ?" He hated t he way

she bounced about with all that wasted energy.



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"No," she said as she pilfered a slice of pot ato from his platt er, "but I have a plan."

"O," he said, feigning disinterest.

"Yes. The Docent has a t aste for ... Well... Let 's just say he doesn't believe st rongly in t he

Church's t radit ion of celibacy."

Modin met her gaze with a keen int erest now. The Docent had a weakness.

She sucked the grease of f her finger. " I have already made arrangement s to t end him t his

marrow."

Modin's face t urned red. " How can you say such a t hing?"

" We'll it 's not t hat I have t o sleep wit h him; I am going to kill him."

He shushed her and quickly looked around t he gloomy t avern. There were only two ot her

pat rons and if t hey had overheard, they showed no sign of it . "How did you arrange these...

Er... arrangement s. Is not t his t he work of ..."

"Whores?"

He expelled his breath explosively, his face reddening.

She cont inued. " In my work..."

"As a witch," he interjected.

She put her hand on his and stared into his eyes. "As a wit ch," she repeat ed, "I do much fort he people who the Church forsakes. Some of t hose people happen to be whores."

Modin relaxed. " I t hought you were going to tell me that you were a... a..."

" Whore? And what if I were?"

He st ayed quiet for a moment and watched her eat his potat oes. Against his bett er judgment

he said, " I need yer help to get t o t he Docent."

She paused, a pot ato slice half way t o her mout h. " Why?"

"Because I want t o kill him." He was uncomfort able and found it hard to f ind a place to lethis gaze rest. Finally, he looked down int o his mug.

"O," she said. " Why?"



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From his place of concealment, he watched as she made her way up t he thoroughfare t o t he

Basilica's litt le side door as she was inst ruct ed. Framed against t hat huge, doomed

building, she seemed so small. A pang of guilt surged t hrough him. He should have talked

her out of t his instead of using her as a means of reaching the Docent .

There was no honor in t his. He would have t o make up some st ory t o tell t he folks back

home. The conversat ion played out in his head:

" It must have been a heroic fight ."

"Not really, he was in bed, naked, and I whacked him in the head wit h my hammer."

Nilly passed t hrough t he door. She was in, but Modin's heart sank as t wo Church Soldiers

stepped out and took up positions on either side of the door.

"Klarn!" he spat. Doesn't anything go right anymore? The Prefect heft ed up his belongings

and made his way down t he alley.

* * *

L e t t i n g he r i n, t he monk gestured for Nilly to follow. She pointed t o the Church

Soldiers on t heir way outside to guard the door. "What are t hey for?"

" These are t roubled t imes, milady," replied t he monk, "t he kingdom is at war, and t here

are cert ain elements who wish to do t he Docent harm."

The monk walked quickly and Nilly found herself having t o run at t imes to keep up. They

passed through a kit chen where t he cooks and scullery maids pointed at her and t wit t eredamongst t hemselves. Nilly smiled at t hem and winked.

Exiting t he kitchen, they wove t heir way t hrough a maze of corridors and passageways. She

desperately t ried to keep t rack of all the t urns and branches, but event ually gave up.

He stopped bef ore a richly paneled wall. Taking a lighted candle, he opened a small door, so

small t hat t hey had to stoop t o pass t hrough. Nilly found herself at t he bot t om of an old,

unused st air. The dust and the cobwebs were t hick.

Up t hey went . When they finally st opped, she was out of breath.

The monk opened a door and gent ly, but f irmly, pushed her t hrough. With a click, the doorclosed behind her.



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Nilly put her hand to her mouth. She had never seen such opulence before. Frescoed

ceilings wit h pict ures of myt hical beings, gold-leafed moldings, stained-glass windows,

and a most wonderful chandelier whose cryst als sparkled in the reflect ed candle light . She

t urned slowly around, not being able t o fix her gaze on just one of all t he splendid it ems in

the room.

" You're punct ual. I like t hat."

She spun around to f ace the owner of t he voice, her dress billowing out as she did so. It was

t he Docent. He sat low in a chair, not f ully upright, but somewhat slouched down.

"You're pret t y. A double blessing."

Unsure of what t o do, she curtsied. He had his armor on. The only part of him that wasn't

covered by met al was his head. His appearance surprised her. The Docent did not have

what would be called a mean face; expressionless, stoic, maybe, but not mean. A receding

hairline gave him a larger than normal looking forehead. Not in an unatt ract ive way, but

in a way t hat made him look more knowledgeable. Overall, he just looked t ired.

"Help me out of t his, would you?" he asked as he pulled off a grieve and t hrew it t o t he floor

where it landed with a ratt le.

Nilly smiled, swayed her shoulders a bit and ran over t o help. As she did so, t he leat her

sheath of t he dagger she had st rapped to her t high slapped gent ly against her soft skin.

* * *

" . . . Oh , I c o ul d t h i n k o f w o r s e j o b s , Teg," said Fomage, "like a grave digger or a

stone mason. At least here we don't have t o work hard or carry heavy loads."

" I guess ya be rights, Fomage," replied Teg, "bein's a soldier o' t ' Church ain't so bads, I

justs get s t ired o' t ' waitin' all t he t imes. Wait s. Wait s. Wait s. Seems I spend my lifes

waiting, 'n fer whats, just to dies at the ends 'ats all."

" Ere," hissed Fomage, "what' s this?"

There was a figure coming at t hem out of t he thickening fog. It was short, but it was wide,

nearly as wide as it was tall, and it made a met allic clanking sound as it marched fo rward.

It wore a cloak wit h the hood drawn up. The t wo guards could make out no ot her features.

"Halt you," shouted Fomage, "halt in the name of t he Church."

In response t he thing parted it s cloak and raised something. A moment t oo late, Fomage

realized it was a crossbow.



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The creat ure jerked back. There was a hiss followed by a loud crunching, popping sound

t hat startled Teg.

Teg glanced at Fomage; his mout h dropped open. His companion was pinned to the Basilica

wall by a t hick steel bolt t hat prot ruded from his chest.

"Who t' 'ell are ye?" screamed Teg at t he creat ure, st umbling back.

Whoever it was dropped his crossbow t o t he ground, pulled a hammer and shield f rom

beneath his cloak, and advanced.

Teg had enough. He clawed for t he door but Fomage's body blocked the way.

" Damn!" he blurt ed, giving t he door an ineffect ual kick.

Teg pulled his sword from his sheath and readied his shield. " All rights, you. Come on."

Whoever it was, did, raising it s shield over it s head like some met al roof.

Teg rained blow aft er blow down upon that roof , to no eff ect. Forcing it self in close the

thing was strong it slammed its hammer full into the side of the soldier's knee, bringing

the man down.

" Please. Mercy," he pleaded, t he pain in his leg excruciating. But t he creat ure kept

coming. It shoved it s shield under t he soldier's and pried it up. Then, wit h heavy swings of

its hammer, like a smith at t he forge, it pounded t he Teg's helmeted head into mush.

* * *

(cont inued on next page)



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THE PARCHMENT (continued)

Mo d i n , Pr e f e c t o f t h e I r o n h am m e r C l an , Defender of t he Fait h, t ossed back his hood

and peered out int o the foggy night . There were no alarms raised. The night was st ill and

t he fog was impenetrable.

The longer Modin had waited, t he more t he old dwarf had fidgeted and the louder he had

grumbled. Minutes had ticked by and minut es had led t o an hour, st ill there was no sign of

Nilly. He had t o act .

He kicked the soldier off t he st eps and yanked t he other off his bolt . Not having time t o cock

it , Modin decided t o leave his crossbow behind.

The door creaked when he opened it. An old woman, holding the hem of her apron to her

mout h, stared at him in horror.

Modin slammed t he door behind him. She screamed and ran out a doorway to another room.

Modin f ollowed.

It was the kit chen. He stood wit h a scowl on his face as screaming scullery maids and cooks

scattered.

So much for surprise, he thought . Picking the largest door, he marched through it.

He found himself in a long, wide hall. The walls were richly paneled and decorat ed wit h a

myriad of pict ures, t apestries, and milit ary art ifacts.

Muff led shouts cont inued behind him. Down t he hall, Modin saw a Church Soldier and a

monk emerge from a doorway. The two, engaged in some conversat ion and oblivious t o t he

t hreat he posed, walked away from him. He not ed that t he soldier was not complet ely

outf itt ed for batt le, lacking bot h helm and shield.

He started off aft er them at a trot , his armor ratt ling with each down-st ep on the hard

marble floor. As he did so, a sharp pain shot t hrough his knee and into his hip, but he

didn't slow a bit . Damnable art hritis, he thought .

The soldier glanced over his shoulder, spun about , drew his sword, and shout ed, "Run,

Torrance! Run and sound t he alarm."

Torrance, his mouth open, st ared st upidly at t he soldier, then stupidly at t he rapidly

advancing dwarf .

" Run," screamed t he soldier.

Planet Magazine 6 Page 40 Fant asy - The Parchment (2 )


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Torrance didn't move.

Picking up t he pace, Modin, his shield braced bef ore him, ran headlong int o t he soldier.

Combined, his mass great er t han that of t he soldier his low center of gravity , and his

momentum, knocked the legs out from under t he human and sent him tumbling over the

dwarf t o land heavily on his back.

The force of impact bringing the dwarf to a stop, he wheeled and rained blows upon the

man's unprotect ed head wit h his hammer. It was short, brut al, and messy. Blood and

carnage was splat t ered across the floor.

Hooking his hammer back ont o his belt , Modin reached up, grabbed t he monk, by his collar

and dragged him down ont o his back.

Mere inches away f rom his face, t he old dwarf, his blood-splat t ered face full of crags and

wrinkles, rumbled, " Where do I find t he Docent ?"

" T-t -t -t he Docent ?" Torrance's eyes bulged.

"Are ye an idiot, boy?" roared Modin, his reddened face t uning crimson, " point me to t he

damn Docent if ye value yer life." Spitt le sprayed from his mout h.

" U-u-up t he st air. Follow the hall." The monk's eyes began t o roll back.

"Don't faint on me now, damn ye," bellowed t he dwarf, " which way down t he hall?"

But Torrance had faint ed.

"Damn," cursed Modin. He let go of t he monk's robe, and when the monk's head struck t hemarble floor, it sounded just like t humping a ripe melon.

Farther down t he hall, he found t he staircase. He climbed it as fast as he could and as he did

so, more pains t ore through his body . There were pains from hundreds of healed wounds,

injuries, and there were pains from parts of his body who were just worn out .

He remembered when he wouldn't even not ice such st renuous act ivit y. Now he had t rouble

catching his breath, and he could feel his heart pound wit hin his chest.

Three flights lat er, he made t he top of t he st airs. He grasped t he marble post t o steady

himself while he pant ed. Sweat t rickled down his face into his armor. Taking his rag from

his war harness, he mopped his brow.

Somebody shout ed from down t he hall. More Church Soldiers. They were milling about a

door that no doubt , thought the dwarf would lead to t he Docent .



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He count ed six of t hem. Not good. He heard more shout ing coming up from t he stairs below.

No retreat .

An emot ion of elat ion washed over him and he smiled. This was it . These were t he Docent 's

personal guard. They would be good. He didn't stand a chance.

As he rushed t hem, he bellowed t he ancient war cry of t he Ironhammers. He wouldn't give

t hem an easy vict ory. No, he respected t hem too much for that. He raised his shield above

his head as was his usual t act ic when fight ing folk as tall as t hese. Driving head on into

t heir flank, bowling over one soldier as he did so, he fell back against t he wall.

They swarmed about him like ants on a beet le. The blows of t heir weapons on his shield and

armor made met allic, st accato sounds. Searching for chinks in his armor, they f ound

none, armpit s, elbows, knees, all were covered by sheets of impenet rable st eel. Only his

face was exposed, and t he dwarf guarded that f uriously.

One soldier wit hdrew, his fo rearm smashed and useless. Anot her screamed, fell, and

crawled away wit h a smashed foot .

"Enough!" The t one of the voice held such an authorit y of command that everyone st opped,

even Modin. It was t he Docent .

The soldiers backed off . The Docent had his forearm wrapped around Nilly' s neck and held a

dagger to her t hroat . Blood stained his white bed shirt where he had been wounded.

"Drop your weapons, dwarf," he said. Then, when Modin didn't move t he Docent' s face

t wisted in rage, " drop t hem, or by God I'll slit her t hroat."

" No," screamed Nilly as she flailed him wit h her arms and legs, "don' t you dare, Modin."

Wit h vicious swings, the Docent pommeled t he girl with his dagger unt il she went limp.

He smiled. " Ah, Modin, Prefect of t he Ironhammers, Defender of t he faith. It is a pleasure.

Drop your weapons milord Prefect or I'll kill t he girl. You know I will."

Modin sighed, and as he let his breat h out , all of his st rengt h and resolve went w it h it. He

dropped his hammer and shield t o t he floor.

Church Soldiers moved in and grabbed t he dwarf' s arms.

"The last t ime we met , it was on t he bat t le field wasn't it?" said t he Docent , " I believe Iwon t hat t ime as well."

He passed Nilly to a soldier. "Have the wit ch burned in t he morn." The Docent t urned and

began to walk back into his room.



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" Should we kill t he dwarf as well, milord?" asked one of t he soldiers.

With his back st ill t urned, he spoke quietly. " No, I t hink not . He is equal of my rank and

position. St rip him, t ake him down to t he dungeon, and beat him. Milord Prefect will live

out t he rest of his years in a filt hy, rat -infest ed cell. It will be a fit t ing end."

Then, wit hout looking, he ent ered his room and closed his door behind him.

* * *

Modin opened h is eyes. The fever he had suff ered t hrough had broken, and t he pain

t hat his tort urers had inflict ed upon him had reduced it self t o dull t hrob. It was

manageable. At t hat moment , he knew he would survive.

He was laying on a cot . Someone, a monk, was holding up a spoonful of t hin gruel to his

st ill swollen and sensit ive lips. The monk was young and he smiled as he not iced his pat ient

was conscious.

"You have survived. God is indeed merciful."

Raising his hand to t ake the spoon he was not some babe who needed t o be spoon-fed t he

dwarf winced as he discovered that his fingers had been splinted.

"God had nothing to do wit h it," grumbled Modin.

The monk moved t o put t he spoon int o t he dwarf' s mouth, but Modin closed his mout h before

he could get it in.

"Of course he did. Now open up."

"Would God allow me t o be capt ured? Would God allow me t o be tort ured? Would God allow

a misguided child t o be burned alive?" Anger grew wit hin the dwarf, and his tone became

mocking, cruel.

The Monk was nonplused, even serene. " I don' t know. I don' t question God. All I know is

t hat you have survived and that is proof t hat God is merciful."

"Idiot."

"Come along now. Open your mout h."

"Go away."

"Look, I am tasting it. It is good."

"Be gone," barked t he dwarf, t urning his head away.



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" Very well, I'll place it here on the floor. When you want it , you can have it."

Opening the cell door, t he monk st epped out. Modin could hear t he key being inserted int o

t he lock and t urned.

They had shorn his beard and locks. Was not hing sacred? In a sea of depression he slowly,

like a leaf f alling from a tree t o t he ground, sank to t he bott om.

* * *

The days t u r ned i nt o weeks , the weeks into months and the months into years.

Modin's wounds healed and his beard grew back.

The monk who had tended to t he dwarf' s injuries, Brot her Chutt in, was to t he dwarf as the

shore was to t he sea. No matt er how severely Modin raged against him, Brot her Chutt in

remained calm, and even though t he sea can wear away t he shore, it 's not not iceable in a

single lifet ime.

Modin quickly began t o look forward t o t he monk's daily visit s. They argued every aspect of

t heology. Does God exist ? Is t here a hell? Is t here a devil? Why does God allow acts of

evil t o occur? Does it all come down to a matt er of faith? When the monk would leave, the

dwarf would go over t he argument s in his mind, t hinking of t hings he should have said and

t hings that he would have bet t er left unsaid.

Eventually, and aft er Modin swore an oat h to Brother Chutt in that he wouldn't att empt t o

escape, the d

planet magazine no. 6

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