Euphron ======= The great king had two sons, Adamas and Euphron. At his command both received instruction in the Black Arts, even the most esoteric and dangerous rites, so that no instrument of policy might be lacking in their princely education. The great king died, and Adamas, being the elder son, took his place on the throne. He was a firm ruler, iron-willed, and a dutiful protector of his realm. What virtues, of sympathy, kindness, piety or altruism, he lacked, his brother Euphron possessed to a compensating degree. Euphron spent his time away from court, advising hierophants on the geometry of their herb gardens. While a minority of courtiers ascribed to this a useful sense, all ascribed to it the fact of his self-preservation. Adamas had a genius for making enemies. Eventually he found himself driven to the most desperate remedy that his tutor had reluctantly revealed: a goety foul and extreme. Retiring to a private chamber in the palace and placing himself within the sanctuary of a five-pointed star, he conjured an arch-gorgon, Margorax. Difficult and dangerous: for if the incantations were not precisely correct in every tone, if the gestures of the dolls not accurately aligned, the pentagram would fail. Once conjured, the hellish being must be coerced, with threats unspeakable, to carry out his wishes. The success of his first attempt made him bold. His second, bolder. But on the third occasion he confused a rising-falling tone with a falling-rising in the properispomenon of the Call to the Cabiri. It was enough, and Margorax devoured him with gusto. When Adamas failed to appear at breakfast the next morning his apartments were searched. A key for the private chamber was produced. As nobody was missing that morning but the king it was reckoned that the gore on the walls was his this time. When they were sure, the palace functionaries sent to offer Euphron the crown. Euphron was a very different ruler. He had a genius for making friends. Gradually fear ebbed away from the court, to be replaced by a spirit of earnest philanthropy. The blood of Adamas had been scrubbed from the walls and the chamber sealed. The unscrolled books and the writings scratched upon the wax of notebooks were left untouched upon the table. Euphron put them to the back of his mind. After many busy years Euphron's thoughts began to return more frequently to his brother's violent and mysterious death. They had received their education together. Euphron had been the better student, even in the terrible goetic arts; he had more patience for the abstract fundamentals of the subject. Eventually he had the room unsealed and began in secret to piece together in his mind the last fatal acts of his brother. The theory was clear. The arch-gorgons had rebelled against Rhadamanthys, judge of the underworld. In punishment they became subject to the footling demands of those lesser beings who had learned the requisite cogencies. As these were invariably power-seeking men like Adamas, the demands were correspondingly evil; and yet the arch-gorgons were not intrinsically evil in themselves. Their punishment was to be constrained to act against their nature. Euphron had often pondered this, and wondered if it might be possible to use them to better ends - even to release them from their Rhadamanthine bonds. And so, one day, torn between curiosity and fear, Euphron set about conjuring Margorax once more. After the uttering of the final words of summoning, the silence ringing in his ears was broken by a chilling whisper from somewhere above him "Accursed wretch, that dares disturb my rest, what is your will?". "Answer me truthfully, Margorax. If I were to will your freedom could the bonds of Rhadamanthys the Just be broken?". The voice seemed to sigh "Only at the fearless command of a selfless mortal. By myself I am powerless to break them." "How shall I command it?" "The five-pointed star that rings you constrains my power. While you are inside it no command of yours can bring my freedom." Alas for mortal presumption. As soon as Euphron stepped outside the pentacle, before he could utter a single well-intentioned word, his head was snapped up. Margorax confided to a companion, as they basked in the flames of Phlegethon, "His heart was good, but, overall, his taste was poor."