"Mighty Weapon of Zoz," he called, "I, Tresqu, seek your presence!"
"Oh, no!" groaned a slightly mechanical voice that seemed to come from no particular direction. "Will there never be peace, never a tranquil moment to soothe my spirit and erase the bloody stains of destruction recorded on my past?"
"That voice! It carries me away!" breathed the Fool. "Such a tragic tale of tormented strength is implicit in its very tone that I think I shall swoon!" But he wrapped his tail around the trunk of a nearby sapling for support and managed to retain consciousness.
"Me, too!" Wert chimed in with suspicious haste. "I'm quite moved!"
"Try not to counterfeit a soul you do not possess." Tresqu glowered at Wert. "You deceive no one."
The Fool was recovered sufficiently to hit the discomfited Lord of War with a pebble when Tresqu was not watching.
The Weapon had drifted into sight during this exchange, floating out of a shady hollow, as if blown by a breeze. It was very simple in appearance—an impalpable three-foot glowing sphere with a squat metallic cylinder at its base.
"Tell me not the purpose of your visit, petty lord!" It said. "It is known to me only too well. Ah, great First Principle! Little did I reck when, in ages past, I nursed your species to civilization, just how poorly you would serve my purpose. Peace it was I desired, but do I get it? No! Your kingdom is powerful, but you have not the strength to handle your own troubles. You rule twenty-nine planets—"
"Thirty-seven," corrected Tresqu politely.