Copyright William Read 1998 - -Send email if you like or dislike something to:
email: wrezzzad@ucsd.edu (BUT remove the zzz in the address!)The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.Chapter 11
The cab brought them as close as it could, then Bungston paid the cabbie well with four pieces of gold and the adventurers got out to walk. Bungston's Voyageur pack and Robigus' armor had not been disturbed in their hiding place; Robigus retrieved these and Bungston extracted the control statue from his pack. The humming coil emerged like clockwork, and the three adventurers were soon underwater.
Bungston took out On the Origin of Tree Worship and paged through it by the light of the wrapped carriage, occasionally snorting or giggling at some delectable tidbit. Robigus cleared his throat. "Bungston, what is our next destination?"
The wizard looked up in surprise. "Well, home. Wasn't that where Nap wanted to go?"
Robigus frowned, as Bungston suspected he enjoyed doing. "But should we not continue our quest and go to Rome? That is where the books said the adze might be found. We possess the necessary equipment for our quest." Robigus indicated the Voyageur pack. "You yourself said only recently that you were `in the groove'; does that not mean you are excited to confront new adventures?"
Bungston slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are all set here..."
Napoleon realized that they actually might go directly on to more questing without any long relaxing interim on the beach, a prospect which did not appeal to him at all. He cleared his throat and spoke in an extra loud chainsaw grind. "Yeah, but we're all pretty tired. Maybe we should go back and rest and take it easy. On the beach. You're pretty tired too Bung. That was big magic." It was the wrong thing to say.
Bungston looked sharply at the baggy-eyed mutant. "Tired? I'm not tired. That magic was nothing - I was ready to do some more for you guys, but you stopped me, Nap, remember? Well, I'm ready for adventure if you guys are!"
"We fear nothing!" declared Robigus. "We will confront our enemies!"
"Yes!" Bungston's enthusiasm flared anew. "We will confront our enemies! We will confront them and whup them into ignominious defeat!"
"Then onward!" exclaimed Robigus. He reached for his sword to flourish but it was packed with his armor. Napoleon muttered something then hunched in a corner and sulked. Bungston corrected the course of the wrapped carriage to take the quest to Rome, then opened up Origins again. He was asleep within five minutes.
This time there was plenty of warning before the coil emerged from the sea, and Robigus shook his snoozing compatriots to wake them when he noticed the water around them becoming lighter. The water around them changed from black to blue to a shade of green, and then Bungston leveled off a fair distance below the surface. He piloted the wrapped carriage to an inlet not far from the mouth of the Tiber, where it hid itself on the beach as usual. It was broad daylight, but by sheer luck there weren't many people nearby. Only a sailor who was keeping watch aboard a nearby cargo ship saw the coil make its appearance, and for whatever reason he kept quiet.
Once on land Robigus headed for shade, the sun being pretty fierce. The polyester disco suit had unfortunately been left at Mr. Erskine's mansion, so Bungston dug through his Voyageur pack and produced a sloppily tie-dyed sweatshirt and a pair of parachute pants for Robigus. Protected by his armor and crimson crested helmet, Robigus would have no problem in the heat of the Roman day. Then there was the problem of Napoleon. Bungston eyed his shaggy companion critically. "Don't let him go anywhere, Bob," he admonished the mildew god, and then left. There was not much threat of Napoleon wandering off; he had already curled up in the shade next to Robigus. Robigus draped him with the camoflauge tarpaulin just in case.
The wandering wizard eventually spied a faded purple awning over a shop. His outrageously high offer for the awning was eagerly accepted by the proprietor, and Bungston shook the awning off and carted it back to where Robigus and Napoleon waited. Lightning reflexes made him a speedy sewer, and in no time he had whipped up an XXXL monk robe, complete with long sleeves and drooping cowl. He prodded Napoleon awake with a big toe and handed him the robe. "Here you go Nap. With this thing on you'll fit in just fine. This city is teeming with monks." Bungston spent a gold piece on a small rowboat, and soon the threesome were headed upstream toward the Eternal City.
Napoleon had first shift rowing, since Bungston said it would be a good way to get the blood pumping and get him fired up for the new day. The cloaked mutant tired of fighting the current pretty quickly, and after some prompting Bungston conjured up an electric trolling motor on the condition that Napoleon still row a little, to keep up appearances. The river was full of barges, dingys, and a plethora of other boats. Even with the electric motor, it was several hours before they were in Rome proper.
"The first thing on our list should be food," announced Bungston. "You're a Roman, Bob. Know anyplace with tasty edibles?"
Robigus had been surveying the passing city with amazement. "I have not returned to Rome since the fall of the Empire. It is like a different city."
"Well, I guess we'll just cruise along until we find a public wharf. There's bound to be a food place near that, for all the sailors."
Watching the passing banks, the travellers slowly got a feeling that all was not well in Rome. Several buildings looked like they had been recently burned, but they were not closely grouped, as they would have been if a big fire had swept them. It was as if some buildings had arbitrarily been torched and others spared. When they passed a small church on the river it became obvious something was wrong. Only shards remained of the stained glass windows, and the few statues that remained had been badly vandalized. Remnants of graffiti still showed on the outer wall, although someone had made an effort to scrub them off.
Bungston shook his head. "Who would have thought somebody would attack a church in Rome! People are crazy all over, I guess."
Robigus shook his head, frowning in thought. "No, I fear this bodes no good."
Napoleon stomped gingerly, then with more force. "Seems alright to me,"
Bungston scooped a handful of dirty Tiber water onto the mutant monk, then turned back to Robigus. "What do you mean, Bob? What's up?"
Robigus waved the wizard off, saying he was not certain. Eventually the rowboat reached a likely looking wharf, and the three disembarked. Bungston bribed the guy who looked like he was in charge to keep a careful watch on the boat, and the questers set off on foot. Something bad had definitely happened recently in the city. An unusual number of buildings looked abandoned, with their doors broken in and garbage accumulated inside. Bungston knelt and took a look at a pile of trash that had blown into a crevice. "Looks like my old magazines that time that crab got into the magazine box," grunted Napoleon.
"Yeah. Not too far off." Bungston held up a shred for observation. It was vellum, and it had Latin on one side and a section of an illumination on the other. "Pretty nice books to be feeding to crabs,".
There was an eatery not too far away. All ate their fill, and then kicked back with flavored ices afterwards. "Bungston, I fear that we have arrived only a little while after the sack of Rome in 1527. I have read tales of this during my stay in Avalon - it is not a good period to be searching for the magic adze. It is certain that anything of value will have been spirited away from its original place."
Bungston shrugged his shoulders. "All the better! Maybe we'll find it at a garage sale! Lots easier than trying to deal with a bunch of grumpy popes."
"Unless some soldier guy took it back to Germany to put on his mantel," said Napoleon from beneath his cowl.
Bungston wiped some ice off his generous nose, then slapped the table and began to plan. "Well, first thing is to find out where it was originally. Maybe it's still there. If not, we can figure out who took it, and then go talk to them." The wizard leapt to his feet and marched over to the proprietor and paid him with a piece of gold. The man was happy to tell such a big tipper that old relics and things of value that belonged to the Church were kept in the Vatican. With this worthy piece of information, the threesome set off through the wounded city. Despite the recent invasion, with all its pillage and death, the Romans seemed to have bounced back well. Business was as usual in most places, and construction crews were at work on some damaged buildings. Bungston stopped at a shop and bought a big floppy red and green hat to disguise his blond hair and get in the Renaissance mood. He bought one for Robigus too, but the warrior would not wear it, preferring his helmet. Napoleon took the spare hat instead and put it on under his hood when no-one was looking. It did little to disguise the already unusual contours of his head.
Robigus kept staring around him. "I cannot believe how much Rome has changed. All the beautiful buildings - they are gone. Cannibalized." The warrior pointed to several blocks of old marble that had been incorporated into the wall of a newer brick building. "Only seldom can I tell where we are."
Bungston gave him a paternal pat on his punctured shoulder plate. "Hey, they didn't call it the Renaissance for nothing."
It was tough to tell if the Vatican itself had been raided or not. There was a lot of construction work in progress there, but no-one was working on it at the moment - most likely the invasion had put a halt to all unnecessary labor. The three looked over the unfinished basilica, and then Bungston walked over to a teenager in a floppy hat who was standing around with a halberd. "Hi! We have the same taste in hats!", piped Bungston..
The guard spoke tenatively, more concerned with the man in armor and the giant monk than with Bungston. "I suppose we do. Why are you wearing armor, sir?", he asked Robigus.
Bungston answered for him. "My bud sunburns easily. Would you happen to know where the valuables are kept? Ancient relics, stuff like that. Magical goods." The wizard had originally addressed the young guard in Italian, but switched to Swiss-German after hearing his accent.
The Swiss guard was astonished to hear his own language spoken, and this neutralized any suspicion he might have felt concerning Bungston's curiosity about treasure. He gave directions to a building not far away, saying that the prefect of the Library could help them. Bungston thanked him and they left.
At the building they were stopped just inside the entrance by a pudgy balding man. He pointed at Robigus in great agitation. "Who are you to come in here, a place of learning, dressed for battle? Are you going to chop up our books with your sword there, eh?"
Robigus took off his helmet and glared at the man from beneath a beetling brow. "Trouble us not, whining... er... skink! I will gird my loins as I please!" Robigus spoke in High Latin, and this threw the librarian for a loop, since only priests and church officials spoke Latin. Also, Robigus had a haughty air about him, and pallid gray skin. The man's attitude did a quick about-face.
"Ah, I'm sorry, terrible mistake, your Reverence," he whined obsequiously. The librarian had apparently decided Robigus was one of the warrior cardinals so fashionable in those days, and that he should be buttered up as much as was possible. "How may I be of service?"
Bungston stepped in. "Thanks. We would like to know where the ancient relics are kept."
The librarian looked at him quizzically. "Not here. Here there are only written things, scrolls, ancient texts. Things of that nature. Yes, there are only written things here. May I ask what exactly it is you would like to see?"
Bungston pointed at Napoleon, who was roaming around a little way off. "My friend the monk there is looking for an special adze, to finish his doctoral thesis. I'm helping him because he's taken a vow of silence, and so he can't talk - those monks, huh?" Bungston slapped the man on the shoulder, chortling merrily. The librarian managed a chortle as well, and Bungston continued. "This thing is a minor relic, of no great importance except to scholars. His studies said it would be located somewhere around here - in Rome somewhere, you understand."
The librarian shook his head sadly. "Ah, yes. There were many such things in St. Peter's, before he tore it down. You have seen the new basilica they are building?" Bungston said he had. "Well, first they tore down St. Peter's and there were many things of beauty in that place, but Il Ruinante threw them all away, these - how many - twenty years past! I am an old man. But I remember well! They had wheelbarrows full of the beautiful statues, tapestries, many things from all corners of the world. Ancient things, works of art. And now they are gone. In all likelihood, more things of value were lost through his work than through the doings of the cursed heretics who raped this city." The man spat on the floor as an addendum to this statement. Bungston also spat, to show solidarity. The librarian forged ahead. "Although of course he did not kill anyone. And his works are things of beauty..." The man had to stop to catch his breath, and Bungston took advantage of the pause.
"Il Ruinante? Who's that? A person? Maybe he knows where some of the good stuff went?"
Again the librarian shook his head. "No, Signor Bramante is many years in his grave. But let me think." The man scratched his pate. "There is a Signor Amatto who was the student of Bramante, and perhaps he can show your friend where this relic might have been taken." The bald man took a closer look at Napoleon, squinting at the faded purple awning he wore. "Your friend wears a habit like none I have ever seen. What order does he belong to?"
"Ah - Carnivora. Thank you very much, you've been lots of help." Bungston spat on the floor again in farewell, then grabbed Napoleon and propelled him hastily out of the library, Robigus bringing up the rear. "Pretty windy guy, but I suppose you've got to talk when you can if you work in a library. That news about St. Peter's is helpful. So all the stuff that was in St. Peter's got moved out. Let's find this Signor Amatto."
It took several hours of asking random people before they found Amatto, and when they did it turned out he had no idea where the valuables had been taken. He explained that Bramante had been under a lot of pressure from the Pope to build fast, and had not had time to concern himself with the contents of the basilica he had razed. Amatto did know of a priest who had taken charge of some of the more precious objects, and he gave Bungston the man's name. The sun was setting when they left the architect.
Bungston slung his Voyageur pack on his back and adjusted the sweaty tumpline across his forehead, then looked wearily over to his companions. "You guys want to call it a day? I'm pooped. Let's find somewhere to stay." Bungston scanned the buildings around him, searching for a pensione.
"Bungston, Napoleon, if you two are willing I know of a very nice place where we might spend the night. And it is free." Robigus was pretty fired up to go to this place, so Bungston shrugged and he and Napoleon followed the armored man off down the street. They got on one of the main roads and kept going. After a while they reached the city wall, which had seen some damage during the invasion. They left the city behind and struck out into the country.
"Are we going to sleep in the fields?" asked Napoleon.
"No, no. It should not be much farther."
It was about a half-mile more before they reached a wooded area. Robigus stopped at its edge and stared at the trees.
Bungston peered into the woods, but it was pitch black. "Does someone live here, Bob?"
"Look at the trees! They are huge!" Robigus stared around him at the trees, then forged ahead into the darkness. Bungston and Napoleon hustled to match his pace. When they caught up to the mildew god, Bungston took out his arc light and illuminated the glade. The trees were big enough that no sunlight could penetrate them, and thus the forest floor was not too overgrown. All in all it looked fairly comfortable. Robigus took off his armor and relaxed next to one of the mammoth trees.
"Surprised they haven't cut these down, since they're so nice and so close to the city," remarked Bungston. The wizard settled himself down as well, then fished some blankets out of his pack and tossed one to Robigus. "You used to hang out here, Bob?"
Napoleon was sniffing around in the undergrowth. "Hey, look guys. Ruins!" The St. Bernard pawed under some greenery and produced the left half of a statue head. "I guess he looked better in profile, huh?" He took the statue over to Bungston and shone the arc-light on it. The frowning features were very familiar. "Hey Robigus - this is you!"
Robigus propped himself up on an elbow and glanced at the ruined bust. "So it is. But that is not surprising, as this is my place."
Napoleon loped over to the mildew god's tree and hunkered down beside him. "What do you mean? You used to live here?"
"In a manner of speaking. I am, as I mentioned, the god of war and mildew, and it was here that in the old days people would come to offer me sacrifice. So their wheat would not succumb to mildew."
Bungston had taken an interest in this conversation. "Why would you want to get mildew on the wheat in the first place, Bob? Doesn't do you much good, as far as I can see, and it seems so out of character. You like mildewy wheat?"
Robigus shrugged, but did not look embarrassed. He was on his home turf, and it was OK to be a mildew god. "From time to time it seemed like a good idea. I was more obstreperous in those days. And yes, there is something to be said for mildewy wheat." Bungston could appreciate the mildew god's actions, as he appreciated most arbitrary actions.
Napoleon's mind was elsewhere. "What sort of sacrifices did you used to get? Nubile virgins? Beer?"
"No, no, nothing of that sort. It is time to rest; if you wish we may discuss this in the morning," Robigus said evasively.
"C'mon Robigus. What did they bring you? Huh? I bet it was nubile virgins." The big dog poked him impatiently.
"Ah, occasionally it was a sheep. Usually they would bring... red puppies." Robigus looked apologetically at the mutant.
"Red puppies!" Napoleon backed away from him, aghast. "What did you want red puppies for?"
Bungston snickered. "Probably to shave them bald and soak them in castor oil. If he knew what he was doing."
The mildew god pulled the blanket over his body and flopped back down. "Those were different days. To be respected, one had to accept sacrifice - it was a matter of pride and honor. I have no special gripe against puppies." His harsh tone kept Napoleon from asking more questions, but the maroon canine was careful to bunk down with Bungston between himself and the puppy-predator.
The next day was a repeat of the previous afternoon. When they finally tracked down the priest Signor Amatto had referred them to, it turned out the man had been put to death by Lutheran mercenaries during the sack of the city. An acquaintance of the dead man referred them to yet another minor official who had been present when St. Peter's was torn down. This man referred them to a cardinal who was currently in France, and so they had to go back and talk some more with the official. This sort of thing turned out to be par for the course. For the next three days they were bounced from person to person, often having to backtrack if their sources had died or were gone from Rome.
On the third day Bungston was ready to give up. Twice they had been forced to return to an aged nun after the contacts she had given had turned out to be dead. She hadn't been overjoyed to see the trio the second time, and would probably be even less receptive the third. Bungston sat on the edge of a fountain and dangled his fingers in the water despondently. "I'm sorry about this you guys. I thought it would be easier to find our magic gizmo after it had been moved. Maybe we should just get back in the carriage and go home. It's probably not even here."
"I've got a better idea," said Napoleon. "All we've been doing is combing the town for these people, and half of them are dead anyway. Let's forget it and just get beer and roam around - see the sights. There's all sorts of good things around here."
Robigus, oddly enough, also favored this idea. "I too have become discouraged, but Napoleon is right. There is much more to see here than at your cabana, enjoyable though it is, and it may be that we will find more information to aid our quest. Though I would drink wine rather than beer."
Bungston brightened, always happy to wander aimlessly. "Ok, ok. And we have all this gold, so we can buy things too." The wizard dunked his head underwater in the fountain, and thus invigorated he resolved to have a good time. Robigus was correct in preferring wine over the lame Italian excuse for beer, and he proved to be a exceedingly skillful tour guide. He knew where the best ruins were likely to be, and once you got him talking he was full of great stories, though he had a tendency to slip from English into Latin when he got excited. Several times his animated Latin and outlandish appearance attracted passers-by; priests, educated merchants and others stopped to listen to the tall armored man's tales of Rome in its heyday. When asked, Robigus would explain that he was in a company of scholars who had come to Rome to examine ancient relics, and Bungston would take it from there with his silky smooth interrogation techniques.
This Roman holiday continued for several days. Napoleon probably had the least fun, since he didn't understand Robigus' Latin very well and was confined to his stuffy awning, but he bore up stoically and saved up all his complaints for when they were in private. One day after a good deal of hiking about Bungston decided to rest his legs and fortify his tan. He made camp on the steps of a big basilica, using a loose brick and his floppy hat for a pillow. Napoleon was a pretty good climber despite his canine heritage, and with boosts from Robigus and Bungston he clambered up an ivy-covered wall and shed his habit once he could not be seen from the streets below. Robigus took off his helmet and relaxed in the shade with a few oranges to eat.
Several oranges later the mildew god noticed three unusual-looking old men slowly making their way across the plaza toward the basilica. The one in the lead was short enough to be a dwarf, with a long gray beard to match. It was he who had attracted Robigus' attention, since every few steps he stopped dead in his tracks and stared with huge eyes directly at the mildew god, then redirected his eyes to the ground before hobbling on. Of the two men bringing up the rear, one had a shock of snow-white hair and probed the ground before him with a staff as if blind. He was guided by a tall, terrible man with bloodshot eyes and dead-looking skin even grayer than Robigus' own. The tall man wore a leather artisan's smock and mumbled ceaselessly. The elderly trio slowly ascended the steps toward Robigus, the mutterings of the tall one awakening Bungston as they passed near his head. The wizard stretched and then snuck along behind them, curious what the three would have to say to Robigus.
Eventually they reached the shade at the top of the stairs where Robigus reclined, and all three eased their ancient frames down onto the flagstones opposite him as if they had been invited. The guide with the long beard stopped his disconsolate mumbling. The dwarf whispered something into the ear of the blind one, then turned to stare at Robigus again. There was a long pause. Bungston seized the opportunity to gingerly touch the dead gray skin on the back of the tall one's neck. The gray came off on his finger as a fine powder of some sort; the wizard tasted it but found it unflavorful.
After realizing that Bungston was not going to say anything to these antiques Robigus frowned sternly, as he tended to do in uncertain situations. "Trouble me not. I have no money." He said this in bad Italian. Getting no response, he tried again in Latin.
The blind man oriented himself on Robigus' words. "So, you are the armored scholar who knows so much history? You seek out ancient things?", he said, also in Latin.
This sounded promising to Bungston, so before Robigus could reply he piped up from in back. "Ancient things, that's us, yep." Again the dwarf mumbled into the ear of the blind man.
The blind man spoke again. "You will follow us." He slowly gained his feet, then tapping with his staff he turned away without further ado. His guide with the long beard resumed his stream of mumblings and they made a slow descent of the stairs, the dwarflike man leading the way.
Bungston rubbed his hands together and spit out his nutmeg, stashing it for later. "Yeah, this looks really good. This is what we've been waiting for. You've got to go on a mysterious journey led by a strange old man or three if you're going to succeed on a quest. It's part of the quester's code. Hey Nap! NAPOLEON!" There was an inarticulate grumble from high above. "Come on down, Nap! We've got a lead!" Napoleon yawned something about catching up later. The memory of the graveyard fiasco fresh in his mind, Bungston was not about to agree to this. He tapped Robigus and pointed to the old men, who were still laboriously descending the steps. "You follow them Bob; I want to get Napoleon so he doesn't cause any trouble." Robigus nodded briskly and strode away, his armor glinting smartly in the Roman afternoon. "I think you and the tall one use the same skin cream!", Bungston called after him.
From previous experience, the wizard knew there was just about no way to get his shaggy mutant to leave a sunny comfy spot, except by offering something better somewhere else or causing the spot to lose its comfyness. Napoleon was full, so food was out, and Bungston didn't want to climb up there, so that was out. He tossed up some mildewy orange rinds Robigus had left, but these elicited no response. "C'mon shagboy, or I'm going to conjure something up!"
Napoleon's great maroon head peered over the side. "Leave me alone. I'll be with you in a second."
Among other things, Bungston had several round rubber balloons in his pocket. Balloons were handy things with a multitude of uses, and he never went on an expedition without a few on his person. He stretched them to loosen the rubber and tied the necks, then arranged them in a geometrical pattern on the steps. "DAVY JONESER FOAM CONES TOASTER BROASTED MOSTLY PISS HAIR SMOKE!" The balloons swelled and assumed a darker hue, filled with some murky liquid the nature of which Bungston could only guess.
The wizard scooped up his balloons, chuckling evilly. He turned to see Napoleon descending the last few feet of ivy, watching him carefully. "Nyah nyah, little jerk!," crowed the mutant. "Thought you'd get gross stuff on me! Big waste of effort!" The bipedal canine skipped down the stairs in delight, the fur on his back decorated with gobs of dry and semi-dry pigeon guano garnered from his rooftop hideout. Bungston took off in pursuit of the aged trio. As an afterthought he ran back and grabbed the balloons. Too good to waste.
It wasn't hard to catch up to the sluggish old men, and this was fortunate because as soon as they slowed to a walk Bungston realized that Napoleon had forgotten to put his awning back on. This was quickly remedied. Bungston walked alongside the blind man and his gaunt gray guide, trying to catch exactly what it was the dusty guy was muttering about. He caught some references to "use of space" and "massive forms", but it was pretty schizophrenic stuff. The man had the words, but lacked the desire and dynamics to make any magic, thought Bungston. Dynamics and desire, those were the trademarks of the wizard. The dynamic large-nosed wizard assumed an air of insouciance, strutting down the street proudly.
After what seemed like forever, they reached a series of crumbling medieval buildings near the old city wall. It was not a good area - bums and winos curled in recesses, and the untraveled street was deep in filth and full of vermin. A pack of sickly looking yellow dogs staggered out of an alley and growled menacingly at the passing group. Napoleon rumbled in return, causing the pack to retreat in reverent awe. The muck made Bungston regret wearing his plastic flip-flops, but his combat boots were still in his Voyageur pack in Robigus' grove.
They followed the old men through an unlocked door in a washed-out building. Once inside, Bungston's paranoia suddenly clawed at his brain, and he hung back for the first time. Everything in the building was dirty and shabby, not at all the sort of place one would keep valuable relics. Plaster chips and trash lay strewn everywhere, and mice ambled arrogantly across the floor. The wizard used his lightning-fast big toe to flick a particularly arrogant mouse across the room, and then turned to his two comrades. "Guys," he whispered to Robigus and Napoleon. "Things are looking fishy - any valuable relics in here would get ripped off in a second. It might be a setup. Be prepared." Napoleon nodded his great cowled head, and Robigus' fingers moved to hover over the haft of his sword. They followed the silent group through another door and stood amazed.
It was a room the size of a warehouse, created by hollowing out at least three adjacent buildings and joining them together. All the ground floor windows were boarded up, and the place was lit by dusty yellow sunbeams from the second story windows. Arranged carefully on the floor were replicas of Roman buildings. Each was painstakingly carved out of marble and beautifully finished to every detail. It was a recreation of ancient Rome.
Bungston whistled a low whistle and walked into the workshop, surveying the buildings. He noticed now that the marble models, though carefully sculpted, did not try too hard to be true to the original. The wizard picked out the Colosseum and carefully tiptoed among the smaller models for a closer look. On one side the Colosseum wall fluidly extended twice as high as the other side, curving inward in a scallop shell motif. Anyone sitting in the top row seats on that half would fall out and straight down into the center of the arena, to be attacked by any miniature gladiators within. On the high side the model rose to head level for the wizard, and on the other side it was about to his waist. Although he wasn't familiar with all the Roman originals, Bungston was pretty sure that most of the models departed fairly drastically from their prototypes. The flowing contours on most buildings were not much like the geometric proportions the Romans had favored.
The dwarf had been whispering in the blind man's ear, and then the man spoke. Bungston was unsure whom he was addressing. "This is the task we have undertaken," he said in a clear voice. "To recreate Rome in its glory. To preserve the memory in stone."
Bungston pointed at the free-form Colosseum next to him. "You know, this doesn't look exactly like the big Colosseum. I bet the acoustics would be better if it were built like this, but won't this be confusing? To posterity, I mean." The tall one in the apron pinned him with a bloodshot gaze that was strangely reminiscent of Queen Z. He did nothing but stare for a long moment. Abruptly he blurted "Connotes better the motion," and as if this were an activation code word, he grabbed a chisel and mallet and went to work on a nearby model, engulfing himself in a cloud of stone dust.
Napoleon shambled over to the Colosseum. "Yeah, it does sort of connote motion, you know? It's stretching, like it's tired." The mutant yawned a toothy yawn, then lowered himself into the center of the marble arena, and curled up there. He then began to hum, searching for its resonant frequency.
The blind man apparently knew his way around the model town without a guide, and after receiving a few more whispers from his dwarfish companion he walked to where Robigus was standing. The mildew god was staring with dismay at the Circus Maximus, which looked more like a Circus Mobius. "We have brought you here because of your wisdom. Although I have done much study, there are things I still do not know." He jabbed his staff at an area of the tiny town devoid of models. "What was in that place? This place?" He indicated another expanse of bare floor. "We need your knowledge of the old city,"
He said more, but Bungston missed it because of the high amplified hum that came from the model Colosseum. "Pretty much out of my range," said Napoleon hoarsely from within.
Bungston rested his elbows on the low edge and looked down on the robed bulk nestled in the sculpture. "What do you think of these Renaissance men, huh? Pretty zany!"
Napoleon rested his muzzle on the upper rim of the Colosseum and made a non-committal noise. "I think its good to take a little license. Add your own touches. That's what the Renaissance architects were all about, right? Improving on the Classical model."
Bungston glanced at an interesting arch supported by pillars that made up the facade of a smaller model. The top two sides of the triangular arch were bowed inward, giving it an underweight look, and the top of the triangle curved back out of the plane. "I guess you're right. I like these little buildings. They look relaxed. Lot nicer than the bizarro angles on our cabana." Napoleon agreed.
Bungston scrutinized a banana-shaped model, then looked back at the Colosseum, then to the relaxed-arch building he and Napoleon had discussed. "Hey. Take a look, Nap." The wizard sighted along the banana building then walked over to the Colosseum. "These buildings are all more or less flowing the same direction. Like someone hooked strings on them and pulled. That way." Bungston pointed north and east.
Napoleon surveyed the city from within his marble nest, lifting his cowl slightly for better visibility. "How about that one?" he rasped, pointing to a perfect stone globe. "Where does it point?"
Bungston picked it up and set it on top of another building. "It fell off of here."
Napoleon grunted. "Ok, how about that one?" The model in question looked like a spiraling soft serve ice cream cone.
Bungston tipped it on its side so that the point pointed north and east. "But really, this might be a clue. I knew that dusty guy was hooked into magic, what with the way he mumbles all the time. I bet he carved all of these buildings so they point at some ultra magic object somewhere, just waiting for us to go take it. We just need to figure out where." Bungston looked around for his hosts. Robigus was busy conversing with the blind one who seemed to be the brains of the outfit, and the dusty sculptor was pounding his chisel furiously; Bungston decided to leave him alone. That left the dwarf with the bulgy eyes. The wizard walked up to him. "Heh-heh-heh! Quite a place you have here. Certainly connotes motion, yep. You boys been working on this a long time?"
"Heh-heh-heh. Yep," said the long-bearded man, his huge eyes fixed expressionlessly on Bungston..
Bungston winced; the dwarfy Italian did not deliver these expressions with the panache they deserved. The wizard decided to let it slide. "Well, I want to do a few scientific measurements, some triangulation, and I was wondering if you Renaissance guys have any string. Just regular twine, if you've got it."
"Heh-heh." The dwarf reached into his clothes and withdrew a ball of twine. Bungston could only guess where he had been keeping it. It was warm.
"Great. But when you talk, put a little more life into it! Use your diaphragm." Bungston indicated how his own diaphragm bounced up and down when he spoke, then retreated back to where Napoleon stood. "I think I would have rather talked to the tall one," he confided quietly to his mutant. "At least he would have had something interesting to say. But I got twine." Along with balloons and nutmeg, the wizard also always carried a roll of duct tape, and he now handed this to Napoleon. The purple-swathed canine taped one end of each twine piece to the top of a building while Bungston walked away with the other end, taking a path he felt appropriate to the pull of the building; this was inevitably northeast. When he was done, he slipped over to Robigus and borrowed the warrior's sword, hanging the weapon from a piece of twine to observe the spontaneous magnetic alignment. Then he got busy traiangulating, drawing figures in the fine gray dust on the floor.
It took a while for Robigus to provide all the information that the blind scholar wanted. The pint-size Rome turned out to be an amalgam of several centuries, and on occasion different buildings had occupied the same spot at different periods in history. In such cases Robigus described all of them, and their time periods, and what they looked like. The blind man listened intently, never interrupting. Eventually all the unfilled spaces were accounted for. "Now, these ancient things you seek."
"What? Oh, wait, wait." Bungston jumped up from his triangulations and jogged over to hear.
The old man slowly walked over to a stool, and sat. Bungston and Robigus took places on the floor in front of him. Napoleon returned to his comfy spot in the Colosseum. "You know that this adze was once in St. Peter's,"
Bungston wondered how he knew they were searching for an adze. "Hey, how did you know we were searching for an adze?" He was ignored.
"When they began to take it down, something had to be done. No-one was taking account of all the things, the old things. All concern was for building." The long pauses between the man's statements were filled by persistent staccato taps of the strange sculptor's chisel echoing in the giant space. "And so some holy men took charge of some things, but many came away the richer. Things of value vanish in the cracks." He stopped, nodding to himself. Bungston thought maybe he had fallen asleep, and was going to give him a poke. But then he started again. "The best things I took away. I made a list of what was there. I stored them. And when the invaders came, I moved them down. To the catacombs."
"A wise course of action," said Robigus. "They would be safe from thieves there."
The old man shook his head. "They were not. They are gone."
Bungston snorted. "What do you mean? Did the looters hork them anyway?"
"The entrance that I sealed remained sealed. When I returned, all had gone." He got up from his stool and shuffled around to a cluttered desk in the corner. He produced a piece of paper with a wax seal on it and came back, holding the paper in front of him. Bungston took it and looked at the seal; it bore a rather plain bisected lozenge-shape. "This is my seal. You will see it on the entrance I used."
Bungston stuffed the paper into a pocket. "So you think the relics are still in there."
"They are no longer there." He tapped his staff on the floor once.
"No, I mean in the catacombs somewhere. If they didn't come out, they had to stay in, right?" Unless, of course, there was a summoner like Bungston himself who had conjured them someplace else. A big pile of different objects would be quite a trick, though.
The old man was silent. Bungston shrugged. "Thanks a lot." The wizard walked over and rousted Napoleon from his hole. On the way out he passed the roll of duct tape to the weird sculptor, who was kneeling at his work. "In case you chip off a piece by accident. Good luck on your city."
Once outside Robigus shook his head in amazement. "Those models were replicas of the buildings of old Rome as much as I am a replica of, of... a skink! The sculptor must be mad, though he does possess talent."
"Maybe those models were what the Romans were trying for. Maybe those proportions in there were the real ideal. The Roman building materials just couldn't bring it off."
Bungston was surprised at this little profundity out of Napoleon. "Where'd you learn that, Nap? Fifth corner of the world?"
Robigus put in his two cents. "The proportions that the skilled ancients strove for were not impossible; indeed it was their possibility that let them become the ideal."
"Naw, I mean maybe that guy saw different proportions. Like you said, Bung - his buildings look relaxed. Leaning toward some other ideal."
This architectural banter was going over Bungston's head, so he let his big dog have the last word without any more hassling. Napoleon would have hassle enough when he found all the pigeon poop matted into his back.
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