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ox.”
    â€œCan’t say,” and the warden shrugged, laying a finger aside his nose and winking, reminding Gowl of Uncle Thulger’s stinginess with funding for the College of Sorcery.
    Gowl, via the warden, sent a letter of introduction to Hetman Gone, and later met with the gentleman in the sub-basement of some half derelict building not far from the Fortress. It was, as the warden had said, a strange place and the Hetman was a strange man, confined to an easy-chair in his overheated room, surrounded by artifacts of the most unusual and expensive kind, and served by a group of deformed and dwarfish men who should have been bottled at birth in the ordinary course of events.
    Gowl was offered some savory tidbits of food and a glass of delicious drink. He and the Hetman talked about things in Bastion, and about Gowl’s ambitions, though Gowl was notthereafter able to remember just how the subject had come up. He did remember, however, the lividity of the Hetman’s skin, the intensity of his eyes reflecting the red glow of the fire, the peculiar liquidity with which Gone moved his arms coupled with the odd stiffness of his legs. Most of all, however, he remembered the charm of the man’s voice and the silken offers that were made.
    The Hetman offered magic. Magic that worked. If Gowl wished to take his uncle’s place, he had only to accomplish a certain rite, the directions for which were written out for him on an ancient sheet of parchment, and the Hetman could guarantee that Gowl would rise to the position of preeminence. Gowl took the parchment with eager fingers, glanced at it, then read it, trembling slightly. For a time he put it on his knees for his fingers seemed to have gone dead. In a moment more, however, he picked it up again, and when he left the Hetman’s place, the parchment went with him.
    Obtaining the necessary materials for the rite took some time. One does not walk out of one’s house and find the left leg of a blind knife sharpener on any given corner. That item came via traders, from far off Mungria. When Gowl confessed this particular difficulty to the warden, that gentleman had some trouble keeping his face straight.
    â€œYou’re laughing,” Gowl had objected. “At what?”
    â€œWell, you did it the hard way,” the warden remarked. “It would have been easier to have the doctors blind a man here in Bastion, wouldn’t it? Either a man who is now a knife sharpener, or one you would have assigned to be a knife sharpener before or after he was blinded.”
    Gowl hadn’t thought of that. There were several other items on the list which he saw immediately could be expedited through similarly pro- or retroactive measures. Though a few surgeons declined to be helpful (unwisely, in terms of life expectancy), others were less difficult, and within two spans Gowl had the rest of the material needed, including the one item which should have been the most difficult but was actually closest at hand.
    The rite was properly accomplished, and Gowl found itsaccomplishment strangely satisfying. There was a moment during it when he had felt a surge of power in his veins, an ecstacy of vigor that made him feel omnipotent. A few days later the feeling returned when General Thulger Turnaway fell dead in the marketplace. The feeling continued through all the subsequent machinations through which General Gregor Gowl Turnaway ascended to the post of General of the Regime.
    Gowl’s association with Hetman Gohdan Gone, begun with such felicity, continued. Many impediments to Gowl’s ambitions were removed through spells provided by Gohdan Gone. Since the warden of the college, who had introduced Gowl to Gone, had been bottled immediately after Gowl had assumed power, the general believed no one else knew about the Hetman. In this belief Gowl was mistaken.

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the cooper
    F ar north of Bastion, across mountain and desert and over the Yellowstone Sea,