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inconclusive but terribly provocative tale； the words were nearly pouring out。 Jack had no trouble following the tale he told in spite of the man's accent； which his mind kept translating into a sort of ersatz Robert Burns burr。
Anders knew Morgan because Morgan was； quite simply； Lord of the Outposts。 His real title； Morgan of Orris； was not so grand； but as a practical matter； the two came to nearly the same。 Orris was the easternmost cantonment of the Outposts； and the only really organized part of that large； grassy area。 Because he ruled Orris utterly and pletely； Morgan ruled the rest of the Outposts by default。 Also； the bad Wolfs had begun to gravitate to Morgan in the last fifteen years or so。 At first that meant little； because there were only a few bad （except the word Anders used also sounded a bit like rabid to Jack's ear） Wolfs。 But in later years there had been more and more of them； and Anders said he had heard tales that； since the Queen had fallen ill； more than half the tribe of skin…turning shepherds were rotten with the sickness。 Nor were these the only creatures at Morgan of Orris's mand； Anders said； there were others； even worse…some； it was told； could drive a man mad at a single look。
Jack thought of Elroy； the bogeyman of the Oatley Tap； and shuddered。
'Does this part of the Outposts we're in have a name？' Jack asked。
'My Lord？'
'This part we're in now。'
'No real name； my Lord； but I've heard people call it Ellis…Breaks。'
'Ellis…Breaks；' Jack said。 A picture of Territories geography； vague and probably in many ways incorrect； was finally beginning to take shape in Jack's mind。 There were the Territories； which corresponded to the American east； the Outposts； which corresponded to the American midwest and great plains （Ellis…Breaks？ Illinois？ Nebraska？）； and the Blasted Lands； which corresponded to the American west。
He looked at Anders so long and so fixedly that at last the liveryman began to stir uneasily again。 'I'm sorry；' Jack said。 'Go on。'
His father； Anders said； had been the last stage driver who 'drove out east' from Outpost Depot。 Anders had been his 'prentice。 But even in those days； he said； there were great confusions and upheavals in the east； the murder of the old King and the short war which had followed it had seen the beginning of those upheavals； and although the war had ended with the installation of Good Queen Laura； the upheavals had gone on ever since； seeming to work their way steadily eastward； out of the spoiled and twisted Blasted Lands。 There were some； Anders said； who believed the evil had begun all the way west。
'I'm not sure I understand you；' Jack said； although in his heart he thought he did。
'At land's end；' Anders said。 'At the edge of the big water； where I am bound to go。'
In other words； it began in the same place my father came from 。 。 。 my father； and me； and Richard 。 。 。 and Morgan。 Old Bloat。
The troubles； Anders said； had e to the Outposts； and now the Wolf tribe was partly rotten…just how rotten none could say； but the liveryman told Jack he was afraid that the rot would be the end of them if it didn't stop soon。 The upheavals had e here； and now they had even reached the east； where； he had heard； the Queen lay ill and near death。
'That's not true； is it； my Lord？' Anders asked 。 。 。 almost begged。
Jack looked at him。 'Should I know how to answer that？' he asked。
'Of course；' Anders said。 'Are ye not her son？'
For a moment； the entire world seemed to bee very quiet。 The sweet hum of the bugs outside stilled。 Richard seemed to pause between heavy； sluggish breaths。
Even his own heart seemed to pause 。 。 。 perhaps that most of all。
Then； his voice perfectly even； he said； 'Yes 。 。 。 I am her son。 And it's true 。 。 。 she's very ill。'
'But dying？' Anders persisted； his eyes nakedly pleading now。 'Is she dying； my Lord？'
Jack smiled a little and said： 'That remains to be seen。'
8
Anders said that until the troubles began； Morgan of Orris had been a little…known frontier lord and no more； he had inherited his ic…opera title from a father who had been a greasy； evil…smelling buffoon。 Morgan's father had been something of a laughing…stock while alive； Anders went on； and had even been a laughing…stock in his manner of dying。
'He was taken with the squitters after a day of drinking peach…fruit wine and died while on the trots。'
People had been prepared to make the old man's son a laughing…stock as well； but the laughing had stopped soon after the hangings in Orris began。 And when the troubles began in the years after the death of the old King； Morgan had risen in importance as a star of evil omen rises in the sky。
All of this meant little this far out in the Outposts…these great empty spaces； Anders said； made politics seem unimportant。 Only the deadly change in the Wolf tribe made a practical difference to them； and since most of the bad Wolfs went to the Other Place； even that didn't make much difference to them （'It fashes us little； my Lord' was what Jack's ears insisted they had heard）。
Then； not long after the news of the Queen's illness had reached this far west； Morgan had sent out a crew of grotesque； twisted slaves from the ore…pits back east； these slaves were tended by stolen Wolfs and other； stranger creatures。 Their foreman was a terrible man who carried a whip； he had been here almost constantly when the work began； but then he had disappeared。 Anders； who had spent most of those terrible weeks and months cowering in his house； which was some five miles south of here； had been delighted to see him go。 He had heard rumors that Morgan had called the man with the whip back east； where affairs were reaching some great point of climax； Anders didn't know if this was true or not； and didn't care。 He was simply glad that the man； who was sometimes acpanied by a scrawny； somehow gruesome…looking little boy； was gone。
'His name；' Jack demanded。 'What was his name？'
'My Lord； I don't know。 The Wolfs called him He of the Lashes。 The slaves just called him the devil。 I'd say they were both right。'
'Did he dress like a dandy？ Velvet coats？ Shoes with buckles on the tops； maybe？'
Anders was nodding。
'Did he wear a lot of strong perfume？'
'Aye！ Aye； he did！'
'And the whip had little rawhide strings with metal caps on them。'
'Aye； my Lord。 An evil whip。 And he was fearsome good with it； aye； he was。'
It was Osmond。 It was Sunlight Gardener。 He was here； overseeing some project for Morgan 。 。 。 then the Queen got sick and Osmond was called back to the summer palace； where I first made his cheerful acquaintance。
'His son；' Jack said。 'What did his son look like？'
'Skinny；' Anders said slowly。 'One eye was afloat。 That's all I can remember。 He 。 。 。 my Lord； the Whipman's son was hard to see。 The Wolfs seemed more afraid of him than of his father； although the son carried no whip。 They said he was dim。'
'Dim；' Jack mused。
'Yes。 It is their word for one who is hard to see； no matter how hard ye look for that one。 Invisibility is impossible…so the Wolfs say…but one can make himself dim if only he knows the trick of it。 Most Wolfs do； and this little whoreson knew it； too。 So all I remember is how thin he was； and that floating eye； and that he was as ugly as black； syphilitic sin。'
Anders paused。
'He liked to hurt things。 Little things。 He used to take them under the porch and I'd hear the most awful screams ' Anders shuddered。 'That was one of the reasons I kept to my house； you know。 I don't like to hear wee animals in pain。 Makes me feel turrible bad； it does。'
Everything Anders said raised a hundred fresh questions in Jack's mind。 He would particularly have liked to know all that Anders knew about the Wolfs…just hearing of them woke simultaneous pleasure and a deep； dully painful longing for his Wolf in his heart。
But time was short； this man was scheduled to drive west into the Blasted Lands in the morning； a horde of crazy scholars led by Morgan himself might burst through from what the liveryman called the Other Place at any moment； Richard might wake up and want to know who this Morgan was they were discussing； and who this dim fellow was…this dim fellow who sounded suspiciously like the fellow who had lived next door to him in Nelson House。
'They came；' he prompted； 'this crew came； and Osmond was their foreman…at least until he was called away or whenever he had to lead the devotions at night…chapel back in Indiana…'
'My Lord？' Anders's face was again ponderous with puzzlement。
'They came； and they built 。 。 。 what？' He was sure he already knew the answer to this； but he wanted to hear Anders himself say it。
'Why； the tracks；' Anders said。 'The tracks going west into the Blasted Lands。 The tracks I must travel myself tomorrow。' He shuddered。
'No；' Jack said。 A hot； terrible excitement exploded in his chest like a sun； and he rose to his feet。 Again there was that click in his head； that terrible； persuasive feeling of great things ing together。
Anders fell on his knees with a crash as a terrible； beautiful light filled Jack's face。 Richard stirred at the sound and sat sleepily up。
'Not you；' Jack said。 'Me。 And him。' He pointed at Richard。
'Jack？' Richard looked at him with sleepy； nearsighted confusion。 'What are you talking about？ And why is that man sniffing the floor？'
'My Lord 。 。 。 yer will； of course 。 。 。 but I don't understand '
'Not you；' Jack said； 'us。 We'll take the train for you。'
'But my Lord； why？' Anders managed； not yet daring to look up。
Jack Sawyer looked out into the darkness。
'Because；' he said； 'I think there's something at the end of the tracks…at the end of the tracks or near the end…that I have to get。'
INTERLUDE
Sloat in This World （IV）
On the tenth of December； a bundled…up Morgan Sloat was sitting on the unfortable little wooden chair beside Lily Sawyer's bed…he was cold； so he had his heavy cashmere coat wrapped around him and his hands thrust deep into its pockets； but he was having a much better time than his appearance suggested。 Lily was dying。 She was going out； away； to that place from which you never came back； not even if you were a Queen in a football field…sized bed。
Lily's bed was not so grand； and she did not in the least resemble a Queen。 Illness had subtracted her good looks； had skinned down her face and aged her a quick twenty years。 Sloat let his eyes roam appreciatively over the prominent ridges of bone about her eyes； the tortoiselike shell of her forehead。 Her ravaged body barely made a lump beneath the sheets and blankets。 Sloat knew that the Alhambra had been well paid to leave Lily Cavanaugh Sawyer alone； for it was he who had paid them。 They no longer bothered to send heat up to her room。 She was the hotel's only guest。 Besides the desk clerk and cook； the only employees still in the Alhambra were three Portuguese maids who spent all their time cleaning the lobby…it must have been the maids who kept Lily piled high with blankets。 Sloat himself had mandeered the suite across the hall； and ordered the desk clerk and the maids to keep a close eye on Lily。
To see if she would open her eyes； he said； 'You're looking better； Lily。 I really think I see signs of improvement。'
Without moving anything but her mouth； Lily said； 'I don't know why you pretend to be human； Sloat。'
'I'm the best friend you have；' Sloat responded。
Now she did open her eyes； and they were not dull enough to suit him。 'Get out of here；' she whispered。 'You're obscene。'
'I'm trying to help you； and I wish you'd remember that。 I have all the papers； Lily。 All you have to do is sign them。 Once you do； you and your son are taken care of for life。' Sloat regarded Lily with an expression of satisfied gloom。 'I haven't had much luck in locating Jack； by the way。 Spoken to him lately？'
'You know I haven't；' she said。 And did not weep； as he had hoped。
'I really do think the boy ought to be here； don't you？'
'Piss up a stick；' Lily said。
'I think I will use your bathroom； if you don't mind；' he