Across The Wall Part 12

13 You lose all your money and possessions, except for your clothes and rapier. You're sure there's cheating going on, but every time you try to look more closely at the others, or under the table, the tigers come and breathe heavily in your ear, licking their chops and slavering. After an hour you retire gracefully through the other door, declining their offer of 'just another hand.' Go to 79 45 You know they're cheating after about fifteen minutes. Those tigers are reading your cards and signaling to the women by twitching their whiskers. With this knowledge, you keep your losses to a minimum-and lose half your money. After about ten hands, you get up to 'stretch your dealing hand,' and dash through the other door, the tigers hot on your heels. Go to 79 6 Ah, those long days spent visiting your grandfather in Cell 3B of The Pastille (an infamous lozenge-shaped prison) at last reap their reward. You use all your dear grandpapa's tricks and win twenty-eight bezants over sixteen hands. You bow gracefully, thank the ladies for the game, and saunter to the exit, gloating over your newfound wealth. Go to 79 30 'Wot, I say, wot 'ave we 'ere, then?' says the Watch Sergeant, in the peculiar patois spoken by Watchmen everywhere. 'Oi (I) fink (think) we might 'ave (have) a Nimoy (person in search of something) 'ere (at this location) . . . perhaps (perhaps) searching (looking) for his lost (mislaid) demoiselle (lady who drinks a lot of sweet white wine).' While the other Watchmen are trying to translate the Sergeant's words with their Watch Patois/English phrasebooks, you slink past and continue on your way. Go to 41 'Wot, I say, wot 'ave we 'ere, then?' says the Watch Sergeant, in the peculiar patois spoken by Watchmen everywhere. 'Oi (I) fink (think) we might 'ave (have) a Nimoy (person in search of something) 'ere (at this location) . . . perhaps (perhaps) searching (looking) for his lost (mislaid) demoiselle (lady who drinks a lot of sweet white wine).' While the other Watchmen are trying to translate the Sergeant's words with their Watch Patois/English phrasebooks, you slink past and continue on your way. Go to 41 31 T THE C CARVED H HEADS OF P PAST E EMPERORS The Carved Heads of Past Emperors were once ranked as the four hundred and sixteenth wonder of the world. Now only twenty of the sixty heads carved into the Eastern Wall have any discernible features. You scan them briefly, but the Montgolfier is still approaching from behind. The Carved Heads of Past Emperors were once ranked as the four hundred and sixteenth wonder of the world. Now only twenty of the sixty heads carved into the Eastern Wall have any discernible features. You scan them briefly, but the Montgolfier is still approaching from behind.

Do you hide up the stone nostril of Emperor August the 10th? Go to 4 Climb the profile of HIH Alfredo (known as 'Alfredo the Chinless')? Go to 89 32 The hag raises her cleaver as you reach inside your doublet, then drops it on the floor as you proffer the silk stockings. 'Just what I wanted for my thuggee lessons!' she exclaims, swiftly making the stockings into a noose and looking around for a test neck. But you are long gone, running like a young colt (i.e., on shaky legs), through the other door. Go to 79 The hag raises her cleaver as you reach inside your doublet, then drops it on the floor as you proffer the silk stockings. 'Just what I wanted for my thuggee lessons!' she exclaims, swiftly making the stockings into a noose and looking around for a test neck. But you are long gone, running like a young colt (i.e., on shaky legs), through the other door. Go to 79 33 As you casually saunter down the avenue in your un.o.btrusive blue body stocking (or whatever), a bravo leaps out, brandis.h.i.+ng his rapier. You have only a moment to realise that he is dressed entirely in green before combat is upon you. As you casually saunter down the avenue in your un.o.btrusive blue body stocking (or whatever), a bravo leaps out, brandis.h.i.+ng his rapier. You have only a moment to realise that he is dressed entirely in green before combat is upon you.

Do you tremble with fear, knock your knees together, and start blubbering? Then, when he starts laughing, whip out a pistol and blow the smirk off the blaggard's face? (You must have a pistol.) Go to 76 Or feint toward his left eye, parry in sixte, and riposte over your shoulder, plunging your rapier through the knave's heart? Go to 2 34 A harsh-faced woman looks up from her voodoo doll as you enter and screams, 'A burglar! Sic him, Tiggums!' A tiger leaps down on you from a platform above the door. A harsh-faced woman looks up from her voodoo doll as you enter and screams, 'A burglar! Sic him, Tiggums!' A tiger leaps down on you from a platform above the door.

Do you run back through the door? Go to 9 Fleche across the room and run the woman through? Go to 11 Shoot the tiger with your pistol? Go to 43 35 You are now on one of the floors of the windmill. It is an eerie place, all white with flour dust, and the sound of the creaking sails and machinery echoing in every nook and cranny. Strange cogs and mechanical arms move back and forth, and a central driveshaft turns with uncanny speed. You are now on one of the floors of the windmill. It is an eerie place, all white with flour dust, and the sound of the creaking sails and machinery echoing in every nook and cranny. Strange cogs and mechanical arms move back and forth, and a central driveshaft turns with uncanny speed.

There is a piece of paper lying on the floor. Do you pick it up? Go to 60 Or ignore it, trip, and fall down the central driveshaft into the grinding stones below? Go to 70 36 They look at you, taking in your cheap cloak, three-bezant haircut, muddy boots, and distinct lack of a Ferrari-red palanquin. 'Make that ten bezants, for trying to be smart,' says one, crus.h.i.+ng a rock and snorting the fragments to show how tough he is. They look at you, taking in your cheap cloak, three-bezant haircut, muddy boots, and distinct lack of a Ferrari-red palanquin. 'Make that ten bezants, for trying to be smart,' says one, crus.h.i.+ng a rock and snorting the fragments to show how tough he is.

Do you pay ten bezants? Go to 55 Go back to the end of the line? Go to 7 Or follow the river westish, hoping to find another way to the Quay of Scented Rats? Go to 52 37 Your arms get more and more tired, the wind comes up, and it starts raining. You almost fall several times. Then, in desperation, you start to climb down. Unfortunately, you slip, slide down the windmill's roof, and out . . . down at least forty feet. Fortunately, the hunchback breaks your fall . . . and you break both your legs. You crawl away before the hunchback regains consciousness. For you, this adventure is over, and you are about to embark upon another. (See 'The Ferocious Bill of Orthopedic Surgeon Fu Manchu' Adventure 27 in this series.) Your arms get more and more tired, the wind comes up, and it starts raining. You almost fall several times. Then, in desperation, you start to climb down. Unfortunately, you slip, slide down the windmill's roof, and out . . . down at least forty feet. Fortunately, the hunchback breaks your fall . . . and you break both your legs. You crawl away before the hunchback regains consciousness. For you, this adventure is over, and you are about to embark upon another. (See 'The Ferocious Bill of Orthopedic Surgeon Fu Manchu' Adventure 27 in this series.) 38 R ROLL ONE DIE . .

16 You back off, and off-this guy twirls his club so fast, you think he may moonlight as a windmill. He drives you back to the Place of Plaice before losing interest. Go to 83 39 There is a heavily clawed mannequin in the opposite corner, and a low, menacing growl from a platform above the door. Go to 85 There is a heavily clawed mannequin in the opposite corner, and a low, menacing growl from a platform above the door. Go to 85 40 The tiger stops in its tracks and looks from side to side, as if to see if anybody is watching. Then it rolls on its back and starts making purring sounds. The tiger stops in its tracks and looks from side to side, as if to see if anybody is watching. Then it rolls on its back and starts making purring sounds.

Do you go over and scratch its stomach? Go to 5 Or run like a million zephyrs (windily) to the other door? Go to 79 41THE STREET OF FISH MONGERS This street really stinks. Rotten fish guts, rotten gutfish, and people who smell like they died at sea several years ago-and look like they died several centuries ago. You hurry through, with a fold of your cloak stuffed up each nostril-all the fas.h.i.+on in the Street of Fishmongers. This street really stinks. Rotten fish guts, rotten gutfish, and people who smell like they died at sea several years ago-and look like they died several centuries ago. You hurry through, with a fold of your cloak stuffed up each nostril-all the fas.h.i.+on in the Street of Fishmongers.

Toward the end of the street, a porcelain model of a toadfish points toward Fishgut Alley, and a statue of a naked mermaid (with rotating flukes) beckons toward the Place of Plaice.

If you walk toward Fishgut Alley, Go to 12 If you stroll toward the Place of Plaice, Go to 83 42 As you say 'No thanks,' the agent's forked tail and horns break out of his pin-striped suit. He draws a pitchfork from his shoulder holster . . . just a little too late. There is a flash of blue lightning, and the 'Choose Your Own Adventure' agent is now no more than a patch of oily sc.u.m. A white-suited man strolls up, the gold wings on his breast pocket gleaming in the sun. He blows the smoke from a magnum pen and slips it back into his pocket. 'Get on with it,' he says. 'Finish up-I need the money.' You nod and head south. Go to 54 As you say 'No thanks,' the agent's forked tail and horns break out of his pin-striped suit. He draws a pitchfork from his shoulder holster . . . just a little too late. There is a flash of blue lightning, and the 'Choose Your Own Adventure' agent is now no more than a patch of oily sc.u.m. A white-suited man strolls up, the gold wings on his breast pocket gleaming in the sun. He blows the smoke from a magnum pen and slips it back into his pocket. 'Get on with it,' he says. 'Finish up-I need the money.' You nod and head south. Go to 54 43 As the tiger leaps, you draw your pistol in one smooth motion, wind the wheel lock faster than a speeding bullock cart, prime it quicker than a flash of lightning, aim, and . . . Roll one die. As the tiger leaps, you draw your pistol in one smooth motion, wind the wheel lock faster than a speeding bullock cart, prime it quicker than a flash of lightning, aim, and . . . Roll one die.

13 Congratulations. All these frantic motions have hypnotised the tiger. It is staring at you, its eyes great circles of disbelief. This puts you off, so you don't fire but edge past to the other door. Go to 79 46 It springs on you before you can fire, so you have to do all the winding, priming, and so forth at the same time as being savagely mauled by a four-hundred-pound Bengal tiger! It's lucky you're a hero-you fire, the tiger dies, and you get to live out the rest of your tragic life with the terrible scars the tiger has inflicted. You staunch the blood where your little finger is bleeding, and eye the scratch marks with depression. Absolutely bound to scar, you think sadly, as you head for the other door. Go to 79 44 THE SALON THE SALON.

You open the door of the Salon, enter, and quickly close it behind you. It is very dim inside, and your eyes take several seconds to adjust. There is a sort of snuffling sound in one corner, and you start to draw your rapier before you realise it is . . . seductive breathing. Your eyes adjusted, you see the fabled courtesan Yvette lying on a couch, her fishnet stockings gleaming against the red plush. She languidly stretches out one slim arm and beckons to you.

Do you abandon your mission, shout, 'Every man for himself,' and fling yourself upon her? Go to 67 Allow her to seduce you, pay her, then resume your search for your true love? Go to 53 Call on Sir Galahad, the Pure Knight, to help you fight temptation? Go to 71 45 You turn back toward the South-gate. Lightning flashes across the sky. Thunder resounds throughout the postern tunnel in which you are sheltering from falling albatrosses. An ancient mariner appears and shoots you with his crossbow. The last words you hear are the senile old fool saying: 'That's funny. I could have sworn it was an albatross. Must have been the lightning . . .' The End. You turn back toward the South-gate. Lightning flashes across the sky. Thunder resounds throughout the postern tunnel in which you are sheltering from falling albatrosses. An ancient mariner appears and shoots you with his crossbow. The last words you hear are the senile old fool saying: 'That's funny. I could have sworn it was an albatross. Must have been the lightning . . .' The End.

46 The Bittern approaches and circles lazily, just out of reach of your rapier. You think you've got it beat and start to edge across the square. At that precise second the Bittern strikes, jabbing you savagely in the left b.u.t.tock. Shrieking, you run across the square, hand clamped to your backside to guard against the infamous second strike. Go to 93 The Bittern approaches and circles lazily, just out of reach of your rapier. You think you've got it beat and start to edge across the square. At that precise second the Bittern strikes, jabbing you savagely in the left b.u.t.tock. Shrieking, you run across the square, hand clamped to your backside to guard against the infamous second strike. Go to 93 47 You slam the door behind you and brace yourself against it as the tremendous bulk of the eunuch slams against it. You slam the door behind you and brace yourself against it as the tremendous bulk of the eunuch slams against it.

Do you wait for him to charge again, then let the door fly open? Go to 75 Or fire your pistol (if you have one) through the door? Go to 87 48 You start sweeping the halberd viciously back and forth like some sort of deranged lawn mower-but this only makes the giant man angry. His s.h.i.+rt splits up the back, his eyes and muscles bulge, and he puts on a pair of gla.s.ses. You stare aghast as he grabs the swinging halberd and breaks it into several pieces, then advances upon you with a particularly sharp splinter, grinning inanely . . . but this is all a product of your fevered imagination. You shouldn't swing that halberd so vigorously! Actually, he ran away as soon as you got the halberd out. Go to 95 You start sweeping the halberd viciously back and forth like some sort of deranged lawn mower-but this only makes the giant man angry. His s.h.i.+rt splits up the back, his eyes and muscles bulge, and he puts on a pair of gla.s.ses. You stare aghast as he grabs the swinging halberd and breaks it into several pieces, then advances upon you with a particularly sharp splinter, grinning inanely . . . but this is all a product of your fevered imagination. You shouldn't swing that halberd so vigorously! Actually, he ran away as soon as you got the halberd out. Go to 95 49 Hampered by the body, the hag fails to intercept you. She howls abuse as you speed past, through the door, up the stairs, and out. Go to 79 Hampered by the body, the hag fails to intercept you. She howls abuse as you speed past, through the door, up the stairs, and out. Go to 79 50 'Ullo, ullo, ullo,' says the Sergeant of the Watch. 'Wot 'ave we 'ere then, suns.h.i.+ne? Is that an 'alberd sticking up out of your cloak?' 'Ullo, ullo, ullo,' says the Sergeant of the Watch. 'Wot 'ave we 'ere then, suns.h.i.+ne? Is that an 'alberd sticking up out of your cloak?'

Do you- Say 'No, it's a five-p.r.o.nged fish spear'? Go to 25 Say 'Yes, I am going to visit my mother-in-law'? Go to 72 Say 'Take that, garboil!' and attack? Go to 65 51 You lose your grip as you fumble one-handed for the saint, and you begin to fall. Fortunately, your s.h.i.+ning white heroic teeth manage to clench on the sail. You pray for a miracle (silently), but the effort is too much. You drop the plaster saint and grab the sail. The saint falls on the hunchback's head; he looks up and and activates the windmill again. You descend gracefully, land with elan, and cross yourself. The hunchback head b.u.t.ts you in a very sensitive region (he couldn't reach higher) and drops a pile of plaster shards on your doubled-up form. You hobble away, groaning. Go to 54 You lose your grip as you fumble one-handed for the saint, and you begin to fall. Fortunately, your s.h.i.+ning white heroic teeth manage to clench on the sail. You pray for a miracle (silently), but the effort is too much. You drop the plaster saint and grab the sail. The saint falls on the hunchback's head; he looks up and and activates the windmill again. You descend gracefully, land with elan, and cross yourself. The hunchback head b.u.t.ts you in a very sensitive region (he couldn't reach higher) and drops a pile of plaster shards on your doubled-up form. You hobble away, groaning. Go to 54 52 THE SOUTH GAT E THE SOUTH GAT E.

A grim complex of towers, barbicans, murder holes, and dungeons, the Southgate Fortress was transformed into an amus.e.m.e.nt arcade several years ago. Now, from the Wheel of Fortune to the Headless Ventriloquist, you'll find fun at the Southgate. Only twenty bezants for the whole family-forty if you don't want the kids back at the end of the day . . . but this is all meaningless hype to you. Your mind is set on rescuing the fair lady. . . what was her name . . . Oiseaux. You ignore the Southgate, and go South (sort of). Go to 16 Sort of east. Go to 88 53 Nice try, but it's money up front at the Quay of Scented Rats. As you cannot possibly have the hundred bezants Yvette demands, she rings a little bell. Moments later, an enormous eunuch servant appears and escorts you back to the Main Hall of the bordello. Go to 61 Nice try, but it's money up front at the Quay of Scented Rats. As you cannot possibly have the hundred bezants Yvette demands, she rings a little bell. Moments later, an enormous eunuch servant appears and escorts you back to the Main Hall of the bordello. Go to 61 54 Q QUAY OF S OF SCENTED R RATS (L (LANDWARD S SIDE ) ).

At last you have reached the Sleine! You can't see it through the ramshackle warehouses and wharves, but that odor of muddy decay and raw sewage could only be the river. On the other side of the warehouses, you can just see a ramshackle bridge and the hundred lanterns that spell out 'S en ed R ts' (there should be a hundred forty lanterns). Loosening your rapier in its scabbard, you stride on. Go to 7 55 The guards take your bezants with suspicion, subject them to their beaverlike teeth, then reluctantly stamp the back of your hand with today's date and the scented rat symbol of the bordello. They let you pa.s.s onto the rickety bridge, and warn you not to approach the old troll who lives underneath. You cross the bridge speedily and enter . . . the Quay of Scented Rats. Go to 61 The guards take your bezants with suspicion, subject them to their beaverlike teeth, then reluctantly stamp the back of your hand with today's date and the scented rat symbol of the bordello. They let you pa.s.s onto the rickety bridge, and warn you not to approach the old troll who lives underneath. You cross the bridge speedily and enter . . . the Quay of Scented Rats. Go to 61 56 ROLL ONE DIE ROLL ONE DIE.

13 You're running full tilt when you realise you can no longer hear the Bittern. You slow, look around, and see that it has gone into whisper mode, gliding along and changing direction by means of small puffs of air from its beak. Too late, you start to run again . . . and it strikes you savagely in the b.a.l.l.s. You can't believe how lucky that was . . . you hardly ever carry tennis b.a.l.l.s around in your pockets. Lucky you were planning to have a game this morning. Relieved, you put on speed. Go to 93 46 You cross the square miles ahead of the Bittern-which, in fact, turns out to be a harmless t.i.ttern. Very similar, but the t.i.ttern's beak is nonrigid, and the feathers on the back of its neck are more golden, and have a barred pattern. Its feeding habits are also markedly different, particularly on Wednesdays, when the t.i.ttern is a familiar sight at the kitchen doors of many fas.h.i.+onable restaurants, pecking at pate de fois gras and trying to get the dregs out of champagne bottles. It is here that the t.i.ttern's remarkable flexible beak comes into its own. A t.i.ttern found trapped in a bottle of Pom Derryong '47 had a beak seven inches long (extended), and three inches long when rolled up on top of its head . . . but you have no time for ornithological observations. On to 93 57 You approach the hulking giant. You approach the hulking giant.

Close up, you see that he has a greenish tinge-but then the smell of this place is enough to make anyone sick.

'Excuse me, peasant,' you say nicely. 'Point me to the River Sleine and be d.a.m.ned quick about it.' He growls, burps, and raises his club to attack.

Do you run back to the Place of Plaice? Go to 83 Calmly fix him with your steely gaze, poke your tongue out, and finish him off with a single lunge? Go to 28 Back off and look for an opening? Go to 38 Get out your halberd (if you have one) and go for his kneecaps? Go to 48 58 You drop down a long chute, accelerating through several twists and curves, then explode out into a dimly lit room. A cackling old hag is lifting a body from another chute, a huge, evil-smelling pot is bubbling on a central stove, there are pastry pie sh.e.l.ls laid out on the table, and a big autographed picture of a nasty-looking barber is in the corner. You drop down a long chute, accelerating through several twists and curves, then explode out into a dimly lit room. A cackling old hag is lifting a body from another chute, a huge, evil-smelling pot is bubbling on a central stove, there are pastry pie sh.e.l.ls laid out on the table, and a big autographed picture of a nasty-looking barber is in the corner.

Do you run for the door? Go to 49 Try and climb back up the chute? Go to 78 Attack the hag with your rapier? Go to 13 59 MA' S F I E L D Heading north by northwest, you arrive in Ma's Field-a small patch of greenery, where many aged women farm market gardens. At the other end of the field, a resplendent red-and-gold Montgolfier is drifting along, with a man throwing primitive fertiliser over the side-it is obviously one of those new-fangled crop-dusting balloons. It drifts closer, and the occupant seems to take an interest in you. MA' S F I E L D Heading north by northwest, you arrive in Ma's Field-a small patch of greenery, where many aged women farm market gardens. At the other end of the field, a resplendent red-and-gold Montgolfier is drifting along, with a man throwing primitive fertiliser over the side-it is obviously one of those new-fangled crop-dusting balloons. It drifts closer, and the occupant seems to take an interest in you.

Do you run away toward the Carved Heads of Past Emperors? Go to 31 Stand there like a ninny? Go to 22 60 You hold the piece of paper to the light from the window-or you would, if the window were there. You stare around the solid, windowless walls, and then back to the paper. In the dim, unearthly light, you see it is an invitation-an invitation to 'spend the rest of your days in Monsieur Moorc.o.c.k's Mill of Mazes.' You sigh heavily and open the nearest trapdoor. Why, oh why, you ask yourself, is there a maze in every adventure? Go to 3 You hold the piece of paper to the light from the window-or you would, if the window were there. You stare around the solid, windowless walls, and then back to the paper. In the dim, unearthly light, you see it is an invitation-an invitation to 'spend the rest of your days in Monsieur Moorc.o.c.k's Mill of Mazes.' You sigh heavily and open the nearest trapdoor. Why, oh why, you ask yourself, is there a maze in every adventure? Go to 3 61 THE GREAT HALL You enter the Great Hall of the Quay of Scented Rats and are stricken with awe! The basilica of St. Peter's, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Fabled City of Gold-they cannot compare . . . as they are far more awe-inspiring. But the Great Hall is a splendid exhibition of bad taste. Purple fur lines the walls and floor, growing like some sort of fungus between the huge plaster sculptures of Aphrodite and Eros. Gla.s.s Cupids swing on chains of worn silver-plated steel and tangle in the papier-mache ferns. Red plush couches line the walls, where gentlemen and lady customers leaf through the catalogues of men and women of ill repute and an old madam constantly sprays the lot with gallons of cheap scent from a mammoth atomiser. THE GREAT HALL You enter the Great Hall of the Quay of Scented Rats and are stricken with awe! The basilica of St. Peter's, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Fabled City of Gold-they cannot compare . . . as they are far more awe-inspiring. But the Great Hall is a splendid exhibition of bad taste. Purple fur lines the walls and floor, growing like some sort of fungus between the huge plaster sculptures of Aphrodite and Eros. Gla.s.s Cupids swing on chains of worn silver-plated steel and tangle in the papier-mache ferns. Red plush couches line the walls, where gentlemen and lady customers leaf through the catalogues of men and women of ill repute and an old madam constantly sprays the lot with gallons of cheap scent from a mammoth atomiser.

Do you stride through the Hall and out the door at the other end? Go to 44 Or stride through the Hall and out the door at the other end, feeling as if your life is somehow being manipulated by unearthly powers? Go to 44 62 You draw your rapier, expecting certain death at the monstrously skilled hands of a Cleaver-Fu Master. But the hag is strangely motionless, and you realise that by some quirk of fate, you will be spared. You edge past the hag and out the door. Go to 79 (Please note: Only one quirk of fate allowed per adventure.) You draw your rapier, expecting certain death at the monstrously skilled hands of a Cleaver-Fu Master. But the hag is strangely motionless, and you realise that by some quirk of fate, you will be spared. You edge past the hag and out the door. Go to 79 (Please note: Only one quirk of fate allowed per adventure.) 63 You pa.s.s the tiger in an adrenalin-a.s.sisted blur. Obviously it was just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, because it leaps at you, snarling, as you pa.s.s. You wrench the other door open and fall out into the street, babbling, 'Nice Mr Tiger. Nice Tiger, don't bite. I give to the World Wildlife Fund. Sixty bezants every full moon. At least I will. Starting next year. Honest, Mr Tiger . . .' You stop babbling as you realise the door has swung shut behind you. Go to 79 You pa.s.s the tiger in an adrenalin-a.s.sisted blur. Obviously it was just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, because it leaps at you, snarling, as you pa.s.s. You wrench the other door open and fall out into the street, babbling, 'Nice Mr Tiger. Nice Tiger, don't bite. I give to the World Wildlife Fund. Sixty bezants every full moon. At least I will. Starting next year. Honest, Mr Tiger . . .' You stop babbling as you realise the door has swung shut behind you. Go to 79 64 As your boat makes its closest approach to the houseboat, you leap from its prow! Roll one die. As your boat makes its closest approach to the houseboat, you leap from its prow! Roll one die.

12 Splos.h.!.+ You manage to perform one and a half somersaults before entering the Sleine at an obtuse angle. Various courtesans, gigolos, and guests come to the rail of the houseboat and laugh as you are dragged away by the current, thras.h.i.+ng and cursing. Mortally embarra.s.sed, you decide to sink to the bottom of the Sleine and end it all. However, when you do sink to the bottom, it is so disgusting that you change your mind and swim ash.o.r.e. Go to 7 35 As you leap, you wisely decide to dispense with the somersaults, and your leap carries you to the prow of the houseboat, where you cling for dear life. You prepare for another leap onto the deck, but that last one really took it out of you, so you slither under the rails and crawl across the deck instead. Go to 44 6 You hurtle eighteen feet into the air, do three full somersaults, flourish your hat, and land on the deck in front of several guests of the establishment. Astounded, they can merely gasp as you calmly light a cigarillo and stride toward the Salon door. Go to 44 65 As you struggle to get the halberd out from under your cloak, the Sergeant steps back, and all four Watchmen lower their blunderbusses and fire. As you struggle to get the halberd out from under your cloak, the Sergeant steps back, and all four Watchmen lower their blunderbusses and fire.

Your last thought before you shuffle off this mortal coil is whether you left the mulled wine on the fire. Maybe it's boiled dry . . . The End.

66 You treacherous little worm! Okay-leave Lady Oiseaux to the tender mercies of a desert chieftain. Don't sample the delights of the Quay of Scented Rats or . . . or . . . words fail me. I hope you get a part as Minotaur bait in 'Theseus Does Knossos: Choose Your Own Adventure 288.' And you can leave the El Superbeau cognac behind. You treacherous little worm! Okay-leave Lady Oiseaux to the tender mercies of a desert chieftain. Don't sample the delights of the Quay of Scented Rats or . . . or . . . words fail me. I hope you get a part as Minotaur bait in 'Theseus Does Knossos: Choose Your Own Adventure 288.' And you can leave the El Superbeau cognac behind.

67 You fling yourself toward the lovely Yvette, only to be met by an upraised knee. You bounce back, whimpering, and she calmly rings a little bell. An enormous eunuch servant enters, giggles, and picks you up. 'A new recruit for uth, Mithtreth,' he lisps. She smiles, and you are carried away, still whimpering. Go to 90 You fling yourself toward the lovely Yvette, only to be met by an upraised knee. You bounce back, whimpering, and she calmly rings a little bell. An enormous eunuch servant enters, giggles, and picks you up. 'A new recruit for uth, Mithtreth,' he lisps. She smiles, and you are carried away, still whimpering. Go to 90 68 Failure! You go for the trip, but the eunuch isn't as slow as he looks! In the blink of an eye, he has you in a half nelson! You struggle uselessly in the eunuch's deceptively strong grasp. The doctor snaps open his gladstone bag, pulls out a pair of shears, and grins evilly. Suddenly, adrenalin you never knew you had shoots through every muscle in your body, transforming you into someone who makes Arnie Schwarzenegger look like a wimp. Roaring with berserk fury, you pick the three-hundred-pound eunuch up over your head and throw him at the doctor, before smas.h.i.+ng through the wall into an adjoining room. Go to 93 Failure! You go for the trip, but the eunuch isn't as slow as he looks! In the blink of an eye, he has you in a half nelson! You struggle uselessly in the eunuch's deceptively strong grasp. The doctor snaps open his gladstone bag, pulls out a pair of shears, and grins evilly. Suddenly, adrenalin you never knew you had shoots through every muscle in your body, transforming you into someone who makes Arnie Schwarzenegger look like a wimp. Roaring with berserk fury, you pick the three-hundred-pound eunuch up over your head and throw him at the doctor, before smas.h.i.+ng through the wall into an adjoining room. Go to 93 69 'I demand twenty bezants for my ruined clothes, you ghastly lump of lard!' you cry indignantly at the merchant. He rubs his hands together obsequiously, offers four trillion billion humble pardons, and begins to bargain with you. 'I demand twenty bezants for my ruined clothes, you ghastly lump of lard!' you cry indignantly at the merchant. He rubs his hands together obsequiously, offers four trillion billion humble pardons, and begins to bargain with you.

Five minutes later, you leave without the bezants, but with your clothes replaced by a bright-blue one-piece sealskin body stocking with bronze b.u.t.tons, which the merchant a.s.sures you will be the perfect disguise for the riverside slums. You walk toward the Arc de Trihump, glad that you got the better of the merchant. Go to 99 70 Could you really be that stupid? You trip, recover, and just manage to grab hold of the trapdoor's iron ring-saving yourself from certain death. Shaking with relief, you crawl back and pick up the piece of paper. Go to 60 Could you really be that stupid? You trip, recover, and just manage to grab hold of the trapdoor's iron ring-saving yourself from certain death. Shaking with relief, you crawl back and pick up the piece of paper. Go to 60 71 You cry out: 'Sir Galahad, come to my aid!' Suddenly, a white light fills the room, there is an explosion of white petals, a miniature snowstorm hurtles past, and there is the knelling of a great bell. A man appears and bows. He is six feet six inches tall, incredibly handsome, and has a smile that blinds at thirty paces. It can only be . . . Sir Galahad! He takes one look at Yvette (who sits up and puts on her Ray-Bans), and says, 'Right! I'll take care of this one!' You cry out: 'Sir Galahad, come to my aid!' Suddenly, a white light fills the room, there is an explosion of white petals, a miniature snowstorm hurtles past, and there is the knelling of a great bell. A man appears and bows. He is six feet six inches tall, incredibly handsome, and has a smile that blinds at thirty paces. It can only be . . . Sir Galahad! He takes one look at Yvette (who sits up and puts on her Ray-Bans), and says, 'Right! I'll take care of this one!'

Yvette says, 'Yes please!' and you exit, with the slight suspicion that Galahad might not be as pure as everyone thought. Then you see him getting his prayer book out and pointing to a particular ill.u.s.trated psalm, so you know he will reform the fallen woman. You open the other door and dash through it, in search of Lady Oiseaux! Go to 15 72 The Sergeant raises his eyebrows for a moment, then waves you on. You walk past, down to the Street of Fishmongers, which marks the beginning of the Sc.u.m Quarter. Behind you, the Watch are discussing halberds and, possibly, mothers-in-law. The Sergeant raises his eyebrows for a moment, then waves you on. You walk past, down to the Street of Fishmongers, which marks the beginning of the Sc.u.m Quarter. Behind you, the Watch are discussing halberds and, possibly, mothers-in-law.

'Of course, you've got to get in with an overhand . . .'

'Nah, what you do is get one with a six-foot handle . . .' Go to 41 73 There's no point beating about the bush on this one. I'll tell it to you straight, without circ.u.mlocution, s.h.i.+lly-shallying, or avoiding the subject. It's bad news, but what isn't these days? What with the price of El Superbeau up to four hundred bezants the tun, the king frolicking in orange orchards, the country going to the dogs . . . it's all bad news. Oh yes . . . Z--O kills you. Right through the heart. There's no point beating about the bush on this one. I'll tell it to you straight, without circ.u.mlocution, s.h.i.+lly-shallying, or avoiding the subject. It's bad news, but what isn't these days? What with the price of El Superbeau up to four hundred bezants the tun, the king frolicking in orange orchards, the country going to the dogs . . . it's all bad news. Oh yes . . . Z--O kills you. Right through the heart. Thock! Thock! And it's all over . . . and you were so close to success . . . The End. And it's all over . . . and you were so close to success . . . The End.

74 You hear the groans and moans of the eunuch and the doctor on the other side of the splintered wall. Dimly, you hear your brain telling you this is going to really hurt later. There is another door. You hear the groans and moans of the eunuch and the doctor on the other side of the splintered wall. Dimly, you hear your brain telling you this is going to really hurt later. There is another door.

Do you wrench open the other door? Go to 80 Or take advantage of your berserk strength to smash through the adjacent wall? Go to 93 75 You hear the eunuch backing off, then galumphing forward to batter the door. You fling it open and step aside, as a huge blubbery ma.s.s hurtles past and smashes against the other door. The doctor, seeing his protector lying unconscious on the floor, begs for mercy. You hear the eunuch backing off, then galumphing forward to batter the door. You fling it open and step aside, as a huge blubbery ma.s.s hurtles past and smashes against the other door. The doctor, seeing his protector lying unconscious on the floor, begs for mercy.

'Where are the auction goods?' you ask sternly. Shaking, he points at the door marked 'Not the Auction Goods.' You nod and continue to stare at him. The slight smile you learned from Clint Eastwood creeps across your face, and you take the shears from his nerveless fingers and click them twice. He looks aghast and faints. You use the shears to trim the end of your Van d.y.k.e beard, then go to the other door, stepping on the unconscious eunuch. Go to 80 76 Roll one die for a highly realistic resolution of this situation. Roll one die for a highly realistic resolution of this situation.

13 He doesn't start laughing. Your eyes clouded with forced tears, and mind numbed by the effort of concentrated blubbering, you hardly notice his rapier has cut you from your guggle to your zatch (don't ask). You blubber for real . . . then it is all over. Your last thoughts are of the stupid guidebook that said this dopey maneuver never failed. The End.

46 He guffaws. He nearly chokes with laughter. His eyes pop out of his head. Before you can even draw your pistol, he's lying on the ground, kicking his legs and giggling inanely. You stop blubbering and continue on your way. Go to 52 77 If you don't have a fish spear, your head is bashed in by the ex-priest. Tempus has fugited. The End. That's it. If you don't have a fish spear, your head is bashed in by the ex-priest. Tempus has fugited. The End. That's it.

If you do have a fish spear, roll one die.

13 Your spear is longer than the ex-priest's thurible. He is p.r.o.nged several times before retreating.

45 You entangle the thurible's chain in your p.r.o.ngs and whip it away. Bereft of his weapon, the defrocked clergyman retires to contemplate the infinite.

6 You trip; the thuribler hits you with his thurible. It doesn't hurt that much, but the incense makes you feel sick. He steals your fish spear.

Unless you are deceased, you return to the Arc de Trihump. Go to 99 78 You try to climb back up the chute, but it is too steep. From behind you comes the sound of a body being tipped into the pot. You turn, and the hag is advancing upon you brandis.h.i.+ng a cleaver. Your stomach churns as you realize that she is wearing the Black Ap.r.o.n of a Master of Cleaver-Fu. You try to climb back up the chute, but it is too steep. From behind you comes the sound of a body being tipped into the pot. You turn, and the hag is advancing upon you brandis.h.i.+ng a cleaver. Your stomach churns as you realize that she is wearing the Black Ap.r.o.n of a Master of Cleaver-Fu.

Do you have two pairs of silk stockings? Go to 32 Or a bottle of Opossum perfume? Go to 10 Or will you draw your rapier and try and fight your way past? Go to 62 79 Once again, you stand outside the mill. A hunchback looks at you curiously, then wanders off, muttering, 'She gave me water. I ordered wine . . .' Once again, you stand outside the mill. A hunchback looks at you curiously, then wanders off, muttering, 'She gave me water. I ordered wine . . .'

You may go north by northwest. Go to 59 Or south by southwest. Go to 54 80 You wrench open the door, and there before you is a great gate of bronze, studded with rubies and emeralds. In front of the gate stands a mighty Djinn, clutching a scimitar of mirrored steel in a fist of Herculean proportions . . . oops, that's 'Down to the Sleazy Sandpits of Samarkand,' Adventure 31 in this series. Actually . . . You wrench open the door, and there before you is a great gate of bronze, studded with rubies and emeralds. In front of the gate stands a mighty Djinn, clutching a scimitar of mirrored steel in a fist of Herculean proportions . . . oops, that's 'Down to the Sleazy Sandpits of Samarkand,' Adventure 31 in this series. Actually . . .

You wrench open the door, revealing an antechamber. There is another door, marked 'Secret-The Real Auction Goods.' You step into the room, and the door swings shut behind you with an audible click that certainly means it is now automatically locked. A man steps out of the shadows, brandis.h.i.+ng a rapier. You have only a moment to take in his black hat, black mask, black s.h.i.+rt, black trousers, black boots, black cape, 'Z' signet ring, and stupid little mustache before he cries 'En garde!'

Do you swear at him in Spanish and lug out your own rapier? Go to 24 Whip out your glove puppet of Cyrano de Bergerac, entrance him with an impromptu display of puppet swordsmans.h.i.+p, then stick the puppet's sword up his nose? Go to 19 Say, 'Violence is the last resort of the incompetent, you childish fellow!' and attempt to walk past? Go to 86 81 This was originally a brilliant paragraph detailing a combat with an enraged Purple-a.s.sed Baboon. However, when Adventure 46, 'Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle,' ran short, it had to go over to it. Also, if you are reading this, you must be cheating. This was originally a brilliant paragraph detailing a combat with an enraged Purple-a.s.sed Baboon. However, when Adventure 46, 'Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle,' ran short, it had to go over to it. Also, if you are reading this, you must be cheating.

82 Eighty-two was also a brilliant paragraph, describing the awesome Slime Serpent that was going to emerge from the Sleine at a strategic moment. Once again, that paragraph had to go over to 'Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle.' Honestly, I don't know how Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone do it. They must be good with numbers or something . . . Eighty-two was also a brilliant paragraph, describing the awesome Slime Serpent that was going to emerge from the Sleine at a strategic moment. Once again, that paragraph had to go over to 'Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle.' Honestly, I don't know how Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone do it. They must be good with numbers or something . . .

83 PLACE OF PLAICE PLACE OF PLAICE.

This is the upmarket part of the Street of Fishmongers-a pleasant, open area, strewn with rancid squid carca.s.ses and buckets of prawns left out in the sun. Smiling merchants offer you slightly fresher wares.

You walk through haughtily, oblivious to this cra.s.s business-when, without warning, a fat merchant emerges from behind a crate and knocks you down with his enormous silk-wound belly!

Do you leap up and stick the fellow with a convenient garfish? Go to 18 Leap up and demand twenty bezants for the damage to your clothes? Go to 69 Lie there and hope he doesn't tread on you? Go to 98 84 You grab hold of one of the windmill's sails and are soon lifted high above the city. It is a somewhat tiring mode of sightseeing, but most educational. You have never seen the city's dumps, ruins, broken sewers, and slums laid out in all their splendor before. As the sail reaches the top of its arc, a hunchback emerges from the mill below, says, 'She gave me water,' and stops the sails. You are left dangling seventy feet above the ground, and your arms are getting tired. You grab hold of one of the windmill's sails and are soon lifted high above the city. It is a somewhat tiring mode of sightseeing, but most educational. You have never seen the city's dumps, ruins, broken sewers, and slums laid out in all their splendor before. As the sail reaches the top of its arc, a hunchback emerges from the mill below, says, 'She gave me water,' and stops the sails. You are left dangling seventy feet above the ground, and your arms are getting tired.

Do you have twenty feet of rope? Go to 8 Or a plaster saint? Go to 51 If you have neither, Go to 37 85 As you open the door, a fully grown Bengal tiger leaps down from above and advances, growling. As you open the door, a fully grown Bengal tiger leaps down from above and advances, growling.

Do you run back through the door? Go to 9 Shoot it with your pistol (if you have one)? Go to 43 Say 'Nice pussums' and head for the door opposite, marked EXIT? Go to 40 86 Z looks surprised, then a grin slowly spreads across his face. 'You are right!' he exclaims. 'But I cannot let you pa.s.s unless you overmaster me in a contest of some kind. Mmmm . . . how about a riddle game?' Z looks surprised, then a grin slowly spreads across his face. 'You are right!' he exclaims. 'But I cannot let you pa.s.s unless you overmaster me in a contest of some kind. Mmmm . . . how about a riddle game?'

Reluctantly, you accept. It's been a long time since you read The Hobbit, The Hobbit, and you never did know why that stupid chicken crossed the road. and you never did know why that stupid chicken crossed the road.

He asks: 'Take a span of mortal life, less a score times two Add a number equal to a witch's coven thrice Less the year, but not the century, of the most famous gold rush in America.'

You mutter something about rhyming, but desist when he absentmindedly cuts the wings from a pa.s.sing fly with his rapier. Go to the Answer.

87 You level your pistol at the door and fire point-blank. There is a deafening You level your pistol at the door and fire point-blank. There is a deafening cras.h.!.+ cras.h.!.+ Splinters fly everywhere, smoke billows out, and you curse, cough, and shriek in pain. You pick a few of the splinters out, then peek through the bullet hole in the door. There is no sign of the eunuch or the doctor, so you reload, kick the door in, and level your pistol at every corner of the room, screaming, 'Hands up!' But these histrionics are wasted, as a quick glance out the window reveals the eunuch and the doctor being carried away by the swift currents of the Sleine, hotly pursued by the Slime Serpent of paragraph 82. You check out the room, but there are no other exits, or any sign of Lady Oiseaux. You go down the corridor to the door marked 'Not the Auction Goods.' Go to 80 Splinters fly everywhere, smoke billows out, and you curse, cough, and shriek in pain. You pick a few of the splinters out, then peek through the bullet hole in the door. There is no sign of the eunuch or the doctor, so you reload, kick the door in, and level your pistol at every corner of the room, screaming, 'Hands up!' But these histrionics are wasted, as a quick glance out the window reveals the eunuch and the doctor being carried away by the swift currents of the Sleine, hotly pursued by the Slime Serpent of paragraph 82. You check out the room, but there are no other exits, or any sign of Lady Oiseaux. You go down the corridor to the door marked 'Not the Auction Goods.' Go to 80 88 THE WINDMILL THE WINDMILL.

In the middle of the city there is a field. In the middle of the field there is a windmill. There is no reason there should be a windmill here, except that it comes in handy for hooking people up during duels.

You may go north by northwest. Go to 59 Or grab onto one of the sails of the windmill. Go to 84 89 It's hard to get a grip on a smooth chin that curves in instead of out. You are feebly struggling for a handhold when the Montgolfier lands and a pinstripe-suited man alights. He introduces himself as an agent for 'Choose Your Own Adventures,' and offers you a part as the hero in a 'serious' solo adventure. It's hard to get a grip on a smooth chin that curves in instead of out. You are feebly struggling for a handhold when the Montgolfier lands and a pinstripe-suited man alights. He introduces himself as an agent for 'Choose Your Own Adventures,' and offers you a part as the hero in a 'serious' solo adventure.

Do you accept? Go to 66 Do you politely refuse? Go to 42 90 The eunuch carries you into a Turkish bath room, which is currently unoccupied. He dumps you on a bench, and you hear him disappear off into the steam, lisping, 'I'll jutht fetth the doctor to finith off.' The eunuch carries you into a Turkish bath room, which is currently unoccupied. He dumps you on a bench, and you hear him disappear off into the steam, lisping, 'I'll jutht fetth the doctor to finith off.'

You feel that waiting for the doctor would be imprudent, and you are feeling much better, so you creep back out the door. Go to 15 91 BITTERN SQUARE BITTERN SQUARE.

You know the old saying 'Once Bittern, twice as painful the next time'? That saying comes from this square, where fearsomely accurate seabirds always beak you in the same place.

You try and creep past, but . . . oh no . . . you've trod on a stick near a Bittern's nest. You hear the snap! snap! of the twig, and then the fearsome of the twig, and then the fearsome wokka wokka wokka wokka wokka wokka of a fully beaked Bittern taking off. of a fully beaked Bittern taking off.

Do you stand there, waving your rapier over your head? Go to 46 Or run like blazes for the narrow alley on the other side of the square? Go to 56 92 Two women are playing cards around a small table. Two tigers are sleeping nearby. As you enter, the tigers leap up, growling. Two women are playing cards around a small table. Two tigers are sleeping nearby. As you enter, the tigers leap up, growling.

Do you run back through the door? Go to 9 Or pull up a chair and say, 'Deal me in. What's the game? Stud, draw, three-up two-down, ecarte, vingt-et-un, snap, canasta, sudden death, gin rummy, five hundred, strip jack naked?' Go to 29 93 Smack! Cras.h.!.+ Thud! Wallop! Bull-like, you smash through one . . . two . . . three . . . four interior walls, leaving a trail of shrieking customers and their chosen consorts (not to mention splinters, broken furniture, embarra.s.sment, etc.). This is fun! Smas.h.!.+ Cras.h.!.+ Splas.h.!.+ You fall into the Sleine and, drained by your berserk fury, dog-paddle ash.o.r.e. You rest for a moment in the comfortable slime, moving on when it starts to grow on you. You head back to the main entrance of the Quay of Scented Rats. Go to 7 Smack! Cras.h.!.+ Thud! Wallop! Bull-like, you smash through one . . . two . . . three . . . four interior walls, leaving a trail of shrieking customers and their chosen consorts (not to mention splinters, broken furniture, embarra.s.sment, etc.). This is fun! Smas.h.!.+ Cras.h.!.+ Splas.h.!.+ You fall into the Sleine and, drained by your berserk fury, dog-paddle ash.o.r.e. You rest for a moment in the comfortable slime, moving on when it starts to grow on you. You head back to the main entrance of the Quay of Scented Rats. Go to 7 94 You've forgotten the door is locked. You back against it, knees knocking in fear, and mumble something about 'Wrong room . . . sorry . . . I was looking for . . . ummm . . . eeerr . . .' He says, 'Oh, that's all right then. Thought you were after the auction goods. I'll just get the key and let you out.' You've forgotten the door is locked. You back against it, knees knocking in fear, and mumble something about 'Wrong room . . . sorry . . . I was looking for . . . ummm . . . eeerr . . .' He says, 'Oh, that's all right then. Thought you were after the auction goods. I'll just get the key and let you out.'

He sheathes his rapier and turns to a cabinet. You leap forward, swinging the rapier in your mouth, knock him out with the pommel, and make your smile three quarters of an inch wider. Before he has a chance to recover, you sprint across the room and open the other door. Go to 100 95 That's 95 That's the last of the hulking giant. You compose yourself (bandaging appendages where necessary), and continue on your way. Soon Fishgut Alley branches into a That's the last of the hulking giant. You compose yourself (bandaging appendages where necessary), and continue on your way. Soon Fishgut Alley branches into a Y Y fork. fork.

Do you go south (that must be south . . . )? Go to 88 Or south, sort of west a bit? Go to 52 96 The dragon rears back, its rainbow-scaled head writhing in agony as your sword sinks ever deeper into its primary brain. But the secondary brain still functions, and you see the great tail swinging around, the venomous sting preparing to punch through you where you stand, precariously balanced between the creature's great yellow centred eyes. The dragon rears back, its rainbow-scaled head writhing in agony as your sword sinks ever deeper into its primary brain. But the secondary brain still functions, and you see the great tail swinging around, the venomous sting preparing to punch through you where you stand, precariously balanced between the creature's great yellow centred eyes.

Do you press the stud that will explode the sword blade into a hundred heat-seeking flechettes? Go to 426 Or dive off the creature's back, trusting that your G-harness battery is not exhausted? Go to 507 97 The tank glimmers with an unearthly light-surely this is the wellspring of the changelings, the nutrient tank where the Tech-nomancer has been growing the nervous systems of his hideous creatures. You approach closer, scanning for search webs and tracksprings. Nothing shows in the visual spectrum, but the NecroVision sight shows stirrings beneath the floor. Forewarned, you spring back and draw your sword, a .45 caliber emulsion sprayer springing into your left fist, just as a Mordicant emerges through the flagstones, its gravemold arms writhing! The tank glimmers with an unearthly light-surely this is the wellspring of the changelings, the nutrient tank where the Tech-nomancer has been growing the nervous systems of his hideous creatures. You approach closer, scanning for search webs and tracksprings. Nothing shows in the visual spectrum, but the NecroVision sight shows stirrings beneath the floor. Forewarned, you spring back and draw your sword, a .45 caliber emulsion sprayer springing into your left fist, just as a Mordicant emerges through the flagstones, its gravemold arms writhing!

Do you chop at its head? Go to 650 Or fire a pulse of violet emulsion at its brain stem? Go to 202 Paragraphs 96 and 97 are a blatant advertis.e.m.e.nt for 'Dark Realm of the Technomancer,' which is at present little more than those two paragraphs. But that's what advertising is all about. Order now!

98 Aaarghh! The pain is intense as the fat merchant rests his bulk upon you, in the mistaken belief that you are a convenient seat. Your screams of agony disconcert him-he leaps to his feet and hurries off. Aaarghh! The pain is intense as the fat merchant rests his bulk upon you, in the mistaken belief that you are a convenient seat. Your screams of agony disconcert him-he leaps to his feet and hurries off.

You slowly clamber to your knees and crawl toward the Arc de Trihump (or the other way). Subtract one from all future combat rolls due to a severely bruised back. Go to 99 or 91 99 THE ARC DE TRIHUMP THE ARC DE TRIHUMP.

A huge monument raised to celebrate the prowess of a long-dead emperor in his personal dealings with camels, the Arc de Trihump is near the Western Wall of the city.

If you continue west (or thereabouts): Go to 6 Turn to the broad avenue that heads south: Go to 21 100 You fling open the velvet-padded door and strike a commanding pose in the doorway. Your love, the Lady Oiseaux, is sitting by the mirror, putting on her earrings. She ignores you for a moment, then says: 'If you're coming in, come in. Ow! And help me with this earring. What took you so long anyway? You used to rescue me in no time at all-I guess you're getting tired of me. No, don't say you're not. I know you are, otherwise you would have been here hours ago (sob) . . .' You fling open the velvet-padded door and strike a commanding pose in the doorway. Your love, the Lady Oiseaux, is sitting by the mirror, putting on her earrings. She ignores you for a moment, then says: 'If you're coming in, come in. Ow! And help me with this earring. What took you so long anyway? You used to rescue me in no time at all-I guess you're getting tired of me. No, don't say you're not. I know you are, otherwise you would have been here hours ago (sob) . . .'

You stride across the room and stop her protests with a pa.s.sionate kiss, sweep her into your arms, and leap out the window-onto the deck of a conveniently pa.s.sing luxury wide-bodied gondola. The string quartet looks surprised, then breaks into the theme from Love Story. The waiter pops the champagne as you and your lady recline into the lavender-scented pillows, and the gondola gondols away into the setting sun, long life, and happiness ever after.*

*Hardened cynics may order the alternative, realistic, nonromantic ending (involving several hunchbacks, gruesome deeds, tragedy, and despair) by sending $2.00 to the author.

HEART'S DESIRE

INTRODUCTION TO HEART'S DESIRE THAT PESKY ARTHURIAN MYTHOS JUST keeps on coming back. Every time it crosses my path, I tell myself I still dislike it, and every time, I end up writing a story set in the world of Arthurian legend. keeps on coming back. Every time it crosses my path, I tell myself I still dislike it, and every time, I end up writing a story set in the world of Arthurian legend.

'Heart's Desire' was written for an anthology called The Road to Camelot The Road to Camelot, edited by Sophie Ma.s.son. The basic premise for the anthology was to write stories about the famous characters of the Arthurian legends when they were children or teens, or just getting started on their road to . . . well . . . Camelot.

By the time I agreed to get involved, most of the better-known characters had already been snapped up by other authors. Which was just as well, really, since I didn't have any ideas about how to write a different and interesting story about Arthur, or Lancelot, or Merlin. So I started looking at some of the characters a.s.sociated with the main players, like Lancelot's wife, Elaine, or King Lot, father of the Orkney lads. But I kept coming back to the fact that the character I was most interested in was Merlin, and in turn Merlin's relations.h.i.+p with Nimue (sometimes called Viviane).

Basically, I never bought the standard-issue version of the Merlin-Nimue story, which stripped to its essence is that the old Merlin is besotted with Nimue and entrapped by her. Part of my problem with that story is that Merlin can actually foretell the future. Older men get besotted by younger women all the time, and, as they say, 'There's no fool like an old fool.' But not, I would think, if that older man could accurately tell exactly what was going to happen.

Unless there was something about that future that meant he would go along with whatever was going to happen, which he presumably wouldn't if he knew Nimue didn't really love him at all but just wanted his power. After all, not only would Merlin find himself entombed, but he would be abandoning Arthur, who is not only a kind of foster son but in many ways also Merlin's life work.

That's where 'Heart's Desire' came from: a desire on my part to retell the Merlin-Nimue story in a different light, with different motivations, while still staying within the broad boundaries of the best-known versions of the original story.

HEART'S DESIRE ' TO CATCH A STAR, YOU MUST KNOW ITS secret name and its place in the heavens,' whispered Merlin, his mouth so close to Nimue's ear his breath tickled and made her want to laugh. Only the seriousness of the occasion stopped a giggle. Finally, after years of apprentices.h.i.+p, Merlin was about to tell her what she had always wanted to know, what she had worked toward for seven long years. secret name and its place in the heavens,' whispered Merlin, his mouth so close to Nimue's ear his breath tickled and made her want to laugh. Only the seriousness of the occasion stopped a giggle. Finally, after years of apprentices.h.i.+p, Merlin was about to tell her what she had always wanted to know, what she had worked toward for seven long years.

'You must send the name to the sky as a white bird. You must write it in fire upon a mirror. You must wrap the falling star with your heart's desire. All this must be done in the single moment between the end of night and the dawning of the day.'

'That's it?' breathed Nimue. 'The final secret?' 'Yes,' said Merlin slowly. 'The final secret. But remember the cost. Your heart's desire will be consumed by the star. Only from its ashes will power come.'

'But my heart's desire is to have the power!' exclaimed Nimue. 'How can I gain it and lose it at the same time?'

'Even a magus may not know his own heart,' said Merlin heavily. 'And it will be the whole desire of your heart, from past, present, or future. You will be giving up something that may yet come to pa.s.s, if you choose not to take a star from the sky.'

Merlin looked at her as she stared up at the sky, watching the stars. He saw a young woman, with the dark face and hair of a Pict, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with excitement. She was not beautiful, or even pretty, but her face was strong and lively, and every movement hinted at energy barely contained. She wore a plain white dress, sleeveless but stretching to her ankles, and bracelets of twisted gold wire and amethysts. Merlin had given her the bracelets, and they were invested with the many lesser magics that Nimue had learned from him in the last three years.

There were other things that Merlin saw, out of memory and with the gift he had taken from a falling star.

There was the past, beginning when a headstrong girl no more than fourteen years old sought him out in his simple house upon the Cornish headland. He had turned her away, but she had sat on his doorstep for weeks, living off sh.e.l.lfish and seaweed, until at last he had relented and taken her in. At first he had refused to teach her magic, but she had won that battle as well. He could not deny that she had the gift, and he could not deny that he enjoyed the teaching. Over the years that enjoyment in teaching her had become something else, though Merlin had never shown it. He was nearly three times her age, and he had spent many years before Nimue's arrival preparing himself for the sorrow that must come. He had not expected it to be as straightforward as simply falling in love with an impossible girl, but there it was.

There was the present, the two of them standing upon the black stone with the new sun s.h.i.+ning down upon them.

The future, so many possible roads stretching out in all directions. If he wished, Merlin could try to steer Nimue toward one future. But he did not. The choice would be hers.

'My heart's desire is to gain full mastery of the Art,' Nimue said slowly. 'I can gain that mastery only by the capture of a star, yet that capture depends upon the sacrifice of my heart's desire. An interesting conundrum.'

'You should stay here and think on it,' said Merlin. He stepped down from the black stone, the centerpiece of the ring of stones that he had built almost twenty years before. The black stone had been the most difficult, though it was small and flat, unlike the standing monoliths of granite. He had drawn it out of the very depths of the earth, and it had smoked and run like water before he had forced it into its current shape. 'But breakfast calls me and I wish to answer.'

Nimue smiled and sat cross-legged on the stone. She watched Merlin as he walked away. As he left the ring of stones, the air s.h.i.+mmered around him, bright shafts of light weaving and dancing around his head and arms. The light sank into his hair and skin, and when it finally settled, Merlin's hair was white and he appeared to be much older than he really was. It was a magical disguise he had long a.s.sumed, Nimue knew. Age was a.s.sociated with wisdom, and Merlin had also found it useful to appear aged and infirm. Nimue expected she would probably do the same when she came into her power. A crone was always much more convincing than a maiden.

Not that she expected to be a maiden too much longer. Nimue had her own plans for that step from maiden to woman grown. Merlin was part of that plan, though he did not know it. No village boy or even one of Arthur's warriors would do for Nimue. Merlin was the only man she had ever wanted in her bed. There had been some who had tried to influence her choice over the past few years, against all her discouragement. A few were still around, croaking and sunning their warty hides down in the reedy margins of the lake. Nimue was surprised they had lived so long. Most men died from such transformations. Sometimes she fed them flies, but she never let them touch her, either as toads or men.