he was collecting.
By dint of hard study he mastered a few modest spells and incantations but the powerful magic possessed by the great magicians of old eluded him. He employed a small army of underlings, sending them far and wide to obtain the items he coveted, by whatever means might be necessary. It was through one such intermediary that he came to learn of a rumour regarding a libram, long thought to have been lost, written by the legendary magician Parsiffal the Effluvant which was believed to contain the secret means of opening access to other realities. This tract, it was whispered, had proved to be so dangerous that Parsiffal had entombed it in a cave high in the Mountains of the Lost and sealed the entrance with an enchantment. Centuries later a landslip had revealed its hiding place and the book had been recovered by the monks from a nearby Lamasery who now acted as its guardians.
Khandive, trusting no other to attempt the procurement of such an item, determined to set out himself. Leaving the governance of Quadesh to his council he departed secretly and made his way ever northwards until he reached the barren foothills leading up into the icy mountains. Here he attempted to engage guides to take him to the monastery but met with a fierce resistance to the idea of outsiders seeking to enter such a holy place. It was only by dint of his assurance that he was no more than a simple striver attempting to achieve spiritual guidance and by the judicious offer of funds to renovate the village longhouse that he managed to engage the services of two surly natives who led him by tortuous rocky paths into the frozen wastes. Taking him to where the trail rounded the flank of one of the highest peaks they indicated a huddle of buildings clutching at the mountainside in the far distance, half hidden by the flurries of snow driven by the howling wind which threatened to pluck him from the narrow track, and despite threats and inducements left him there alone. It was with some considerable difficulty that he finally managed to arrive at the entrance to find it barred by a thick oak door. After what seemed a lifetime of hammering he was finally allowed access and stammered out his prepared tale of seeking sanctuary from the world through his chattering teeth. His pleas seemed initially to make no impression but eventually he was conducted to a small cell, handed a meagre bowl of thin mutton soup, unseasoned and rancid, and allowed to rest.
The following day he was interviewed by the abbot and a gaggle of what he supposed to be the senior monks. Again he rehearsed his story of how as a prince of men, commanding wealth and position he had come to realise how little this meant when weighed against tranquillity and peace of mind. All he hoped for was the chance to serve the community in some menial way and to have the opportunity to learn in exchange the three-fold path to nirvana. The holy men huddled together and muttered amongst themselves, occasionally pausing to look speculatively in his direction. At last they seemed to reach an agreement. The Abbot beckoned Khandive forward. This wealth that he spoke of, he was asked. Had he perhaps brought some of it with him? He admitted that yes indeed, he had needed to finance his journey with sufficient funds of gold coin and a quantity of these remained with him. On imparting this information Khandive sensed a perceptible lightening of the atmosphere. The Abbot beckoned him forward. He was encouraged, he told Khandive, that such an obvious man of the world, steeped in materialism, would seek to emulate their simple life. They were prepared to welcome him into their little community and of course the first step to achieving inner peace would be to discard any trappings of his previous life. As soon as he had surrendered his tainted money he would be provided with a novitiates habit and his instruction would begin. Khandive readily agreed. He would however crave a boon. Since the coins were clearly of no value to the monks he asked only that his clothes and the money should be placed in a locked chest which should be situated in the monastery temple along with other objects of veneration so that he might from time to time look at it and reflect upon the trappings which had previously besmirched his life. After a lengthy consultation with his fellows the Abbot rather peevishly agreed.
The days that followed proved tedious. Khandive’s time was occupied with menial tasks which left little time for exploration. In time however his novelty wore off and by and large his presence became ignored. One day as he was sweeping the temple floor he was disturbed by the abbot who proved to be inclined to chat. Seizing the opportunity Khandive steered the conversation towards an explanation of the sacred objects on display. Taking him by the arm the abbot led him from one exhibit to another, providing at great length the history and relevance of each, recommending that Khandive should take time to meditate on each as a means of progressing along his path to understanding. Finally the Prince carefully broached the subject of his search. It was rumoured he suggested that an ancient book of wisdom had been found during the building of the monastery was this true? The abbot shrugged dismissively. A story passed down from Prior to Prior related that a tome had indeed been unearthed from the rubble while clearing the inner recesses of a cavern but it had contained nothing but gibberish written in some obscure tongue and had evinced a feeling of disquiet in those who had examined it. Fearing the worst Khandive asked what its fate had been. The abbot pointed to a cupboard half-hidden in a far recess. If it still existed, he said, it would be in there with other abandoned records from the early days of the community’s existence. Fearing further lectures on the conglomeration of relics Khandive pleaded the necessity of completing his chores and the abbot left him in peace. He dithered. His immediate inclination was to run to the cupboard and search for the book but he feared the consequences of discovery, it being near the time of the evening rituals. With some degree of frustration he retired to his cell and prepared his plans. While the monks performed their ceremonies it was his task to prepare the evening meal and making his way to the kitchen he made ready a supper of pickled roots and spiced goat meat, infusing it with a spell of profound lassitude. Its effects were exactly as he intended. Having completed their repast the monks became torpid, their eyes glazed and they slumped in their chairs, emitting a satisfactory chorus of snores. Loosing no time Khandive hastened to the temple, prised open the cupboard door and feverishly searched through the dust-covered piles of papers, documents and books dislodging a small cloud of black flies and the mummified body of an albino mouse. As he rummaged through the contents he sensed the faintest tingle of magic which led him unerringly to the back of the topmost shelf where he unearthed a thick libram wrapped in a black cloth adorned with mystic sigils. Uncovering it he was left in no doubt as to it being the object of his quest but the feeling of disequilibrium it induced in his senses was so unsettling that he lost no time in replacing its covering which reduced the sensation to a barely perceptible level. Snatching up the book Khandive made haste to break open the chest containing his clothes and money finding that most of the cash had been purloined by the monks. Muttering imprecations to himself he changed out of his monk's habit and left the monastery without further delay. His journey back to Quadesh was not without incident but was accomplished without serious harm befalling him.
On his return he lost no time in beginning a study of his trophy, brushing aside requests from his councillors for audience and immuring himself within his tower. To his relief he found it to have been written in an archaic version of Aphritic, a hieroglyphic script he had already mastered in his study of similar esoteric tracts. As he read, each pictogram seemed to be imbued with hidden depths of meaning and he experienced a disquieting giddiness as he traced the letters, a sensation which diminished as he became engrossed in the contents. As the meaning became clear he experienced a growing exultation as he realised that this was no less than Parsiffal's work book in which he had recorded his investigations of the occult. It commenced with detailed instructions as to the armoury of spells and incantations required to prise open the arcane secrets and to protect the adept from the dangers which he might encounter. Despite his overwhelming anxiety to begin, Khandive was wise enough to master these first, strengthening his mind and body t
o the extent that like the magicians of old he achieved a negation of the aging process. The floor of the tower was circumscribed by a mosaic of sigils taken from the book into which he weaved spells of immense power such as would bind and hold any entities which might be summoned and at its centre a circle was inscribed with the words of power which would create a portal into the other realities which Parsiffal claimed to exist.
When all was ready Khandive began. At first he was cautious, peering through the gateway at worlds, some seemingly familiar, some strange and many at the limits of comprehension. He found a world of tinkling crystalline shards which bombarded him with pleas of exculpation but what their crimes had been he was unable to ascertain. On another, monstrous white limpid slugs, wallowing in putrid slime, proved to be kindly philosophers who beguiled him with facets of experience of totally novel and unexpected dimensions. Some denizens of these myriad worlds were as prosaic and mundane as his own, others were bizarre