Chapter 27

THE RIVER CAMBER, approaching the sea, joined the Murmeil and became an estuary some thirty miles long: the Cambermouth. Tides, swirling currents, seasonal fogs and sand bars which appeared and disappeared with changes of weather made for uncertain navigation in and out of Avallon Harbor.

Approaching Avallon from the south by Icnield Way, the traveler must cross the estuary, at this point two hundred yards wide, by a ferry, tethered to an overhead cable by a chain hanging from a massive pulley-block. At the south the cable was secured to the top of Cogstone Head beside the lighthouse. At the north it terminated at a buttress of concreted stone on River Scarp. The cable crossed the estuary at a skewed angle; the ferry leaving Cogstone landing was thereby propelled by the flooding tide across the estuary to the dock at Slange, under River Scarp. Six hours later, the ebbing tide thrust the ferry back to the south shore.

Aillas and his companions, riding north along Icnield Way, arrived at Cogstone halfway through the afternoon. Riding over the Cogstone ridge they paused to overlook the wide view which suddenly spread before them: the Cambermouth extending in a sinuous curve to the west where it seemed to brim over the horizon; the estuary to the east spreading wide to join the Cantabrian Gulf.

The tide was at the turning; the ferry lay at Cogstone Landing.

Ships finding a fair insore wind drove into the estuary to the west spreading wide to join the Cantabrian Gulf.

The tide was at the turning; the ferry lay at Cogstone Landing.

Ships finding a fair inshore wind drove into the estuary with all canvas spread, including a large two-masted felucca flying the flag of Troicinet. As they watched it edged toward the northern shore and docked at Slange.

The three rode down the road to the landing where the ferry waited departure only upon full flood of the tide.

Aillas paid toll for the passage and the three rode aboard the ferry: a heavy scow fifty feet long and twenty feet wide, well loaded with wagons, cattle, peddlers and mendicants on their way to the fair; a dozen nuns from Whanish Isle convent, on pilgrimage to the Holy Stone brought by St. Columba from Ireland.

At Slange Aillas went to the Troice felucca for news, while his friends waited. He came riding back in a state of despondency. He brought out the Never-fail, and exclaimed in frustration as the tooth pointed north.

"In truth," declared Aillas, "I don't know what to do!"

Yane asked: "So then, what is the news from Troicinet?"

"They say King Ospero lies sickly in his bed. If he dies and I am not on hand, then Trewan will be crowned king—which is as he planned... I should be riding full speed south at this instant, but how can I with Dhrun my son to the north?"

Cargus, after a moment's thought, said: "You cannot ride south in any event until the ferry takes you back to Cogstone. Meanwhile, Avallon is an hour's ride north, and who knows what we will find?"

"Who knows? Let us be off!"

The three rode hard along the final miles of Icnield Way, between Slange and Avallon, arriving by a road which bordered the common.

They discovered a great fair to be in progress, though already it had gone into its waning stages. Beside the common Aillas consulted the Never-fail. The tooth pointed north to a target across the common and perhaps beyond. Aillas made a disgusted sound. "He might be out there on the common or a hundred miles north, or anywhere in between. Tonight we shall check to the edge of town, then tomorrow, willy-nilly, I ride south by the noon ferry."

"That is good strategy," said Yane, "and even better if we are able to find lodging for the night."

"The Black Bull yonder seems appealing," said Cargus. "A mug of bitter ale, or even two, will not come amiss."

"The Black Bull then, and if luck is with us, there will be room to lay down our bodies."

At their request for lodging the innkeeper first held out his hands in despair, then was nudged by one of the porters. "The Duke's Room is open sir. The company never arrived."

"The Duke's Room, then! Why not? I cannot hold a choice lodging the whole night through." The landlord rubbed his hands together.

"We call it the 'Duke's Room' because Duke Snel of Sneldyke honored us with his custom, and not twelve years ago. I'll take silver for the rent. During the Grand Fair, and for the Duke's Room, we ask a premium fee."

Aillas paid over a silver florin. "Bring us ale, out under the tree."

The three sat at a table and refreshed themselves in the cool breeze of late afternoon. The throngs had dwindled to a trickle of late-comers hoping to drive hard bargains, and scavengers. Music was quiet; vendors packed their goods; acrobats, contortionists, mimes and jugglers had gone their ways. The Grand Fair formally ended on the morrow, but already pavilions were being struck and booths disassembled; carts and wagons trundled off the common to the road and so away: to north, east, south and west. In front of the Black Bull passed the flamboyant wagon of Dr. Fidelius, drawn by a pair of black two-headed horses, and driven by a dashing young gentleman of striking appearance.

Yane pointed in amazement at the horses. "See the marvels! Are they freaks, or works of magic?"

"For myself," said Cargus, "I would prefer something less ostentatious."

Aillas jumped to his feet to look after the wagon. He turned back to his fellows. "Did you notice the driver?"

"Certainly. A young grandee on a lark."

"Or some wild young dartling with pretensions to gentility."

Aillas thoughtfully resumed his seat. "I have seen him before—

under strange circumstances." He raised his mug only to find it empty. "Boy! Bring more ale! We will drink, then we shall follow Never-fail at least to the edge of town."

The three sat in silence, looking across the traffic of street and common. The serving-boy brought them ale; at the same moment a tall sandy-haired man with a wild and somewhat distracted look came striding along the street. He halted and spoke urgently to the boy. "I am Dr. Fidelius; has my wagon passed by? It would be drawn by a team of black two-headed horses!"

"I have not seen your wagon, sir. I have been busy fetching ale for these gentlemen."

Aillas spoke. "Sir, your wagon passed only minutes ago."

"And did you notice the driver?"

"1 took special heed of him: a man of about your own age, with dark hair, good features and a manner which was notably bold or even reckless. 1 feel that I have seen him before, but I cannot remember where."

Yane pointed. "He drove away yonder, south along knield Way."

"Then he will be stopped at Cambermouth." He looked back to Aillas. "If I used the name Faude Carfilhiot would that bring shape to your memory?"

"It would indeed." Aillas thought back across an age of toil, flight and wandering. "I saw him once at his castle."

"You have verified my worst fears. Boy, can you get me a horse?"

"I can go to the ostler, sir. The better the horse, the more coin he will ask."

Shimrod tossed a gold crown upon the table. "Bring his best, and in haste."

The boy ran off. Shimrod sat upon a bench to wait. Aillas appraised him sidelong. "What, when you catch him at Slange?"

"I will do what must be done."

"You will have your hands full. He is strong and no doubt well armed."

"I have no choice. He has kidnapped two children who are dear to me, and he might well do them harm."

"I would believe anything of Carfilhiot," said Aiilas. He considered his own circumstances and came to a decision. He rose to his feet. "I will ride with you to Slange. My own quest can wait an hour or two." The Never-fail still dangled from his wrist.

He glanced at the index, then again, incredulously. "Look you, at the tooth!"

"Now it points south!"

Aillas turned slowly to Shimrod. "Carfilhiot drove south with two children: what are their names?"

"Glyneth and Dhrun."

The four men rode south in the light of the westering sun, and folk along the road, hearing the pound of hooves, moved to the side to let the riders pass, then turned to wonder why men should ride so hard at sundown along Icnield Way.

Across the heath rode the four and up Riverside Heights where they drew their snorting horses up short. The Cambermouth glared incandescent in the light of the setting sun. The ferry had not waited for full ebb. In order to make full use of daylight it had left Slange at the turn of the tide and already was halfway across the river. Last aboard was the wagon of Dr. Fidelius. A man standing at the side of the wagon might have been Faude Carfilhiot.

The four rode down the hill to Slange, to learn that the ferry would turn north sometime after midnight, when the tide was once more at flood, and would not cross to Cogstone Landing until sunrise.

Aillas asked the dock attendant: "Is there no other way across the water?"

"Not with your horses; no indeed, sir!"

"Then, can we cross afoot, and at once?"

"Nor neither afoot, sir. There's no wind to fill a sail, and no one would row you across with the current at full ebb, neither for silver nor gold. He'd end up on Whanish Isle, or beyond. Come back by sunrise and ride in comfort."

Back on the heights they watched the ferry dock at Cogstone. The wagon rolled ashore, moved up the road and out of sight into the dusk.

"There they go," said Shimrod flatly. "We can't hope to catch them now, the horses will run all night. But,I know his destination."

"Tintzin Fyral?"

"First he will stop at Faroli to visit the magician Tamurello."

"Where is Faroli?"

"In the forest, not too far away. I can communicate with Tamurello from Avallon, through one Triptomologius. At the very least he will see to the safety of Glyneth and Dhrun if Carfilhiot brings them to Faroli."

"Meanwhile they are at his mercy."

"So they are."

Icnield Way, parchment-pale in the moonlight, crossed a land dark and silent, with no glimmer of light to be seen on either hand.

South along the way the two-headed horses pulled the wagon of Dr.

Fidelius, with wild eyes and flaring nostrils, mad with hate for the being who drove them as they had never been driven before.

At midnight Carfilhiot pulled to a halt beside a stream. As the horses drank and cropped grass beside the road, he went to the back of the wagon and opened the door. "How goes it in there?"

After a pause Dhrun spoke from the darkness: "Well enough."

"If you want to drink, or ease yourselves, come down, but try no tricks as I lack patience."

Glyneth and Dhrun whispered together, and agreed that there was no reason to ride in discomfort. Warily they descended from the back of the wagon.

Carfilhiot allowed ten minutes, then ordered them back into the wagon. Dhrun went first, silent and stiff with anger. Glyneth paused with one foot on the bottom step of the ladder. Carfilhiot stood with his back to the moon. She asked: "Why have you kidnapped us?"

"So that Shimrod, whom you know as Dr. Fidelius, works no magic against me."

Glyneth tried to keep her voice from trembling. "Are you planning to set us free?"

"Not immediately. Get in the wagon."

"Where are we going?"

"Into the forest, then away to the west."

"Please let us go!"

Carfilhiot studied her where she stood full in the moonlight. A

pretty creature, thought Carfilhiot, fresh as a wildflower. He said lightly: "If you behave nicely, then nice things will happen to you. For now into the wagon with you."

Glyneth climbed into the wagon, and Carfilhiot closed the door.

Once more the wagon set off along Icnield Way. Glyneth spoke into Dhrun's ear: "This man frightens me. I'm sure that he is Shimrod's enemy."

"If I could see, I'd stab him with my sword," muttered Dhrun.

Glyneth said hesitantly: "I don't know if I could do so—unless he were trying to harm us."

"Then it would be too late. Suppose you stood by the door. When he opened it, could you thrust through his neck?"

"No."

Dhrun sat silently. After a moment he picked up his pipes and began to blow softly: trills and runs, to help himself think. He stopped short and said: "That's rather odd. It's dark in here, is it not?"

"Very dark indeed."

"Perhaps I've never played in the dark before. Or perhaps I've never noticed. But as I play, the golden bees fly in swoops and loops, as if they were annoyed."

"Perhaps you are keeping them from their sleep."

Dhrun blew into his pipes with more fervor. He played a jig and a merridown and then a caper of three parts.

Carfilhiot called back through the window: "Stop that damnable fifing; it puts my teeth on edge!"

Dhrun said to Glyneth: "Amazing! The bees dart and swoop. Like him"—he jerked his thumb forward—"they have no taste for music."

He raised the pipes to his lips, but Glyneth stopped him. "Dhrun, no! He will do us harm!"

All night the horses ran, knowing no fatigue but nevertheless furious at the demon who drove them so mercilessly. An hour after dawn Carfilhiot allowed another ten-minute halt. Neither Dhrun nor Glyneth chose to eat; Carfilhiot found bread and dried fish in the larder at the back of the wagon; he ate a few mouthfuls and once more urged the horses into motion.

All day the wagon rumbled across the pleasant landscapes of south Dahaut: a flat country of endless expanses with a great windy sky overhead.

Late in the day, the wagon crossed the Tam River by a stone bridge of seven arches and so entered Pomperol, without challenge either by the single Daut border official or his corpulent Pomperan counterpart, both preoccupied by their chess game, on a table placed precisely over the boundary at the center of the bridge.

The land altered; forests and isolated muffin-shaped hills, each crowned with a castle, reduced the vast perspectives of Dahaut to ordinary human scale.

At sunset the horses at last began to flag; Carfilhiot knew that he could not drive another long night through. He turned off into the forest and halted beside a brook. While he gingerly unharnessed the horses and tied them where they could drink and graze, Glyneth built a fire, hung the iron pot from its tripod

.and cooked a makeshift soup from materials at hand. She released her cats from their basket and let them run here and there about a strictly circumscribed area. Sitting over their meager supper, Dhrun and Glyneth spoke together in subdued undertones.

Carfilhiot, across the fire, watched them through half-closed eyelids, but said nothing.

Glyneth became increasingly disturbed by the quality of Carfilhiot's attention. At last, as twilight darkened the sky, she called her cats and put them into their baskets. Carfilhiot, seemingly lazy and passive, sat in contemplation of her slight yet unexpectedly rich contours, the easy graces and elegant little flourishes which made Glyneth her unique and endearing self.

Glyneth rinsed the iron pot, stowed it in the locker with the tripod. Carfilhiot rose to his feet, stretched. Glyneth eyed him askance as he went to the back of the wagon, reached within and brought out a pallet which he spread beside the fire.

Glyneth whispered into Dhrun's ear; together they went to the wagon, Carfilhiot stood behind them. "Where are you going?"

"To bed," said Glyneth. "Where else?"

Carfilhiot seized Dhrun and lofted him into the wagon, then closed and barred the door. "Tonight," he told Glyneth, "you and I will bed by the fire, and tomorrow you will have much to think about."

Glyneth tried to run behind the wagon, but Carfilhiot seized her arm. "Save your energy," he told her. "You will find yourself becoming tired presently, but you won't want to stop."

Inside the wagon Dhrun snatched up his pipes and began to play, in a passion of fury and helpless grief for what was happening to Glyneth. The golden bees, about to relax for the night, with only an occasional warm buzzing to remind Dhrun of their presence, flew a set of resentful loops, but Dhrun played only the harder.

Carfilhiot jumped to his feet and strode to the wagon. "Put an end to the streedle! It grinds on my nerves!"

Dhrun played with an even greater fervor which almost lifted him from his seat. The golden bees flew in zig-zag courses, turned erratic somersaults and finally in despair flew from Dhrun's eyes altogether. Dhrun played all the louder.

Carfilhiot went to the door. "I will come inside; I will break your pipes and deal you such buffets as to silence you very still."

Dhrun played on and the piping excited the bees so that they flew back and forth across the wagon, careening from side to side.

Carfilhiot raised the bar from the door. Dhrun put down the pipes and spoke: "Dassenach, to hand!"

Carfilhiot threw open the door. The bees flew out and struck his face; he recoiled, and so saved his life, as the blade hissed past his neck. He uttered a startled curse, then, seizing the sword, wrested it from Dhrun's grip and threw it into the underbrush.

Dhrun kicked at his face; Carfilhiot seized the foot and sent Dhrun reeling back into the wagon.

"No more noise!" panted Carfilhiot. "No more pounding or piping, or I will do you harm!"

He slammed the door and threw the bar. He turned to Glyneth, only to find her scrambling up into the branches of a massive old oak tree. He ran across the clearing but already she was out of his reach. He climbed after her, but she climbed higher and out to the end of a branch which sagged beneath her weight, and Carfilhiot dared not follow.

He spoke, first cajoling, then pleading, then threatening, but she made no response, and sat quietly among the leaves. Carfilhiot spoke in a final threat, which made her blood run cold; then he descended the tree. Had he an axe he would have chopped away the branch which supported her, or the tree itself, and let her die.

All the night long Glyneth huddled in the tree, cramped and miserable. Carfilhiot, on the pallet beside the fire, seemed to sleep, although from time to time he stirred to throw wood on the fire, and Glyneth was afraid to descend.

Inside the wagon Dhrun lay on his own couch, exultant in his regained sight, but sick with horror at imagined events outside by the fire.

Dawn slowly illuminated the cart. Carfilhiot arose from the pallet, and looked up into the tree. "Come down; it is time to be going."

"I don't care to come down."

"Suit yourself. I am leaving, nonetheless."

Carfilhiot harnessed the horses and led them into the traces, where they stood trembling and pawing the ground in detestation for their new master.

With growing concern, Glyneth saw the preparations. Carfilhiot watched her from the corner of his eye. At last he called up:

"Come down and get into the wagon. Else I will bring Dhrun out and strangle him before your eyes. Then I will climb the tree and throw a rope over the branch, and I will pull down on the rope so that the branch breaks. I will catch you, or perhaps I won't and you will be sorely hurt. In either case I will have you, to do as I like."

"If I come down you will do the same." Carfilhiot said: "In truth, I am no longer in the mood for your sour little body, so come down."

"Let Dhrun from the wagon first."

"Why?"

"I am afraid of you."

"How can he help?"

"He'd find some way. You don't know Dhrun."

Carfilhiot threw open the door. "Come out, you little lizard."

Dhrun had overheard the conversation with great joy; it seemed that Glyneth had evaded Carfilhiot. Feigning blindness, he groped for the door and descended to the ground, though he found it hard to control his exultation. How beautiful the world looked! How green the trees, how noble the horses! He had never before seen Dr. Fidelius' wagon: gaudy, tall and eccentric of proportion. And here was Glyneth, as dear and pretty as ever, though now she was pale and strained, and her blonde curls were tangled around dry twigs and oak leaves.

Dhrun stood by the wagon, peering into nothingness. Carfilhiot threw the pallet into the wagon. Dhrun watched him furtively. So this was the enemy! Dhrun had imagined him older, with ropy features and a mottled nose, but Carfilhiot was clear-eyed and splendidly handsome.

"Into the wagon," said Carfilhiot. "Quick, the both of you."

"Fiirst my cats must have a run!" cried Glyneth. "And something to eat! I'll give them some cheese."

"If there is cheese, bring it here," said Carfilhiot. "The cats can eat grass, and tonight all of us may eat cat."

Glyneth made no response, and gave Carfilhiot the cheese without comment. The cats took their exercise, and would have prolonged the occasion. Glyneth was compelled to speak sternly before they would return to their baskets. And once again the wagon drove south.

Inside the wagon Dhrun exclaim to Glyneth: "I can see! Last night the bees flew from my eyes! They are as good as ever! My eyes, not the bees."

"Sh!" said Glyneth. "That is wonderful news! But we must not let Carfilhiot know! He is as crafty as he is terrible."

"I will never be sad again," said Dhrun. "No matter what happens.

I will think back to the time when the world was dark."

"I would feel happier if we were riding with someone else," said Glyneth wistfully. "I spent all last night in a tree."

"If he dares touch you, I will cut him in pieces," declared Dhrun.

"Don't forget! I can see now."

"Perhaps it won't come to that. Tonight he may be thinking of other things... I wonder if Shimrod is trying to find us?"

"He can't be too far behind."

The wagon rolled south, and an hour after noon arrived at the market-town Honriot, where Carfilhiot bought bread, cheese, apples and a jug of wine.

In the center of Honriot, Icnield Way crossed the East-West Road; Carfilhiot drove to the west urging the horses to ever greater speed, as if he too anticipated the coming of Shimrod. Snorting, shaking their manes, heads low to the ground or sometimes raised on high, the great black horses plunged west, their soft tiger feet thrusting back the ground. Behind trundled the wagon, wheels bounding, the body swaying on its long laminated easy-ways.

Occasionally Carfilhiot used his whip, cracking it upon the glistening black haunches, and the horses tossed their heads in rage.

"Take care, take care!" they cried back. "We obey the instruction of your reins, because that is the way it must be; but do not presume, or we might turn and rear over you and flail down our great black feet, and drag you to the dirt and stamp you into the ground! Hear, and have a care!"

Carfilhiot could not understand their speech and used the whip as suited his pleasure; and the horses tossed their heads in evermounting fury.

Late in the afternoon the wagon passed King Deuel's summer palace.

For the day's entertainment King Deuel had ordained a pageant entitled: "Birds of Fantasy." With great artistry his courtiers had bedecked themselves in black and white feathers, to simulate imaginary sea-birds. Their ladies had been allowed more latitude and they promenaded along the greensward in total avian extravagance, using the plumes of ostrich, egret, lyrebirds, peacocks and vesprils. Some wore confections of pale green, others cerise or mauve or golden-ochre: a prospect of the most gorgeous complexity, and one enjoyed to its fullest by Mad King Deuel, who sat on a tall throne, costumed as a cardinal, the only red bird of the pageant. He was enthusiastic in his praises and called out compliments, pointing with tip of his red wing.

Carfilhiot, recalling his previous encounter with King Deuel, pulled the wagon up short. He considered a moment, then descended and called Glyneth down to the road.

He instructed her in terms which admitted of neither argument nor flexibility. She lowered the side panel to make a platform, brought out her basket, and with Dhrun playing the pipes, set her cats to dancing.

The ladies and gentlemen in their remarkable finery came to watch; they laughed and clapped their hands, and some of them went to call King Deuel's attention to the novel exercises.

King Deuel presently stepped down from his throne and sauntered across the sward to watch the display. He smiled and nodded, but he was not altogether uncritical. "I see here an ingenious effort, to be sure, and the antics are amusing enough. Ha! Excellent saltation there! That black cat is agile! Still it must be remembered that the feline is a lesser order, when all is said.

Dare I ask why we have no dancing birds?"

Carfilhiot spoke up. "Your Majesty, I sequester the dancing birds within the wagon! We deem them too exquisite for the common view!"

Mad King Deuel spoke haughtily: "Do you then characterize my august vision as vulgar and common, or anything other than sublime?"

"Indeed not, your Majesty! You are welcome, and you alone, to inspect the extraordinary spectacle inside the wagon."

King Deuel, mollified, marched to the back of the wagon. "A

moment, your Majesty!" Carfilhiot closed the side panel, cats and all, and went to the rear. "Glyneth, inside! Dhrun, inside!

Prepare the birds for his Majesty. Now, sir, up these steps, and in with you!"

He closed and barred the door, and climbing to the front seat, drove away at a mad gallop. The befeathered ladies looked after in puzzlement; some of the men ran a few steps along the road but were impeded by their black and white plumage, and so, with wings trailing, they returned to the sward before the summer palace, where they tried to fit some pattern of logic upon the occurrence.

Within the wagon King Deuel shouted out orders: "Halt this vehicle at once! I see no birds whatever! This is a most insipid prank!"

Carfilhiot called down through the window: "In due course, your Majesty, I will halt the wagon. Then we shall discuss the plumes and quills that you decreed for my backside!"

King Deuel became silent and for the rest of the day made only fretful clucking sounds.

The day drew toward a close. In the south appeared a line of low gray hills; an outlying arm of Forest Tantrevalles lay dark across the north. Peasant huts became rare and the land tended toward the wild and melancholy.

At sunset Carfilhiot drove the wagon across a meadow to a copse of elms and beeches.

As before Carfilhiot unharnessed the horses and put them to graze on a long tether, while Glyneth cooked the supper. King Deuel refused to leave the wagon, and Dhrun, still feigning blindness, sat on a fallen log.

Glyneth brought soup to King Deuel and served him bread and cheese as well; then she went to sit by Dhrun. They spoke in low voices.

Dhrun said: "He pretends not to watch you, but everywhere you go his eyes follow."

"Dhrun, don't become reckless. He can kill us, but that is the worst he can do."

Dhrun said through clenched teeth: "I won't allow him to touch you. I will die first."

Glyneth whispered: "I've thought of something, so don't worry.

Remember, you are still blind!"

Carfilhiot rose to his feet. "Dhrun, into the wagon with you."

Dhrun said sullenly: "I intend to stay with Glyneth."

Carfilhiot seized him, carried him kicking and fighting to the wagon and thrust him inside and barred the door. He turned toward Glyneth. "Tonight there are no trees to climb."

Glyneth backed away. Carfilhiot came after her. Glyneth sauntered to the horses. "Friends," she said, "here is the creature who drives you so hard, and whips your naked backsides."

"Yes, so I see."

"I see with both heads at once."

Carfilhiot cocked his head to the side, and approached slowly.

"Glyneth! Look at me!"

"I see you well enough," said Glyneth. "Go away, or the horses will trample you."

Carfilhiot halted and looked at the horses, their white eyes and stiff manes. Opening their mouths they showed long forked fangs.

One of them suddenly rose on his hind legs and struck down at Carfilhiot with the talons of its front feet.

Carfilhiot retreated to where he could climb upon the wagon if necessary, and stood glowering. The horses lowered their manes, sheathed their talons, and once more began to graze.

Glyneth strolled back to the wagon. Carfilhiot jerked forward.

Glyneth stopped still. The horses raised their heads and looked toward Carfilhiot. Their manes began to rise. Carfilhiot made an angry gesture and climbed to the seat of the wagon.

Glyneth opened the back door. She and Dhrun made a bed under the wagon and rested undisturbed.

On a morning dreary with spatters of rain, the wagon passed from Pomperol into west Dahaut and entered the Forest of Tantrevalles.

Carfilhiot, hunched on the front seat, drove at reckless speed, wielding his whip with abandon, and the black horses ran foaming through the forest. At noon Carfilhiot turned off the road to follow a dim lane which climbed the slopes of a rocky hill, to arrive at Faroli, the octagonal multi-leveled manse of Tamurello the Sorcerer.

By three sets of invisible hands Carfilhiot had been bathed and groomed, lathered head to toe with sweet sap of dimity. He had been scraped with a white boxwood paddle and rinsed in warm water scented with lavender, so that his fatigue had become no more than a delightful languor. He dressed in a shirt of black and crimson and a robe of dark gold. An invisible hand tendered him a goblet of pomegranate wine, which he drank, then stretched his beautiful easy limbs like a lazy animal. For a few moments he stood in reflection, wondering how best to have his way with Tamurello.

Much depended upon Tamurello's mood, whether it were active or passive. Carfilhiot must control these moods as a musician controls his music. Finally he left the chamber and joined Tamurello in the center saloon, where on all sides tall panes of glass overlooked the forest.

Tamurello seldom showed himself in his natural similitude, preferring always a guise from among the dozens at his command.

Carfilhiot had seen him in a variety of phases, more or less beguiling, but all memorable. Tonight he was an elderkin of the falloys, in a sea-green robe and a crown of silver cusps. He used white hair and silver-pale skin, with green eyes. Carfilhiot had seen this semblance before and had no great love for its extremely subtle perceptions and the delicate precision of its demands. As always, when confronted with the falloy elderkin, Carfilhiot adopted a manner of taciturn strength.

The elderkin inquired as to his comfort. "You are refreshed, I hope?"

"I have known several days of hardship, but I am once more comfortable."

The elderkin turned a smiling glance out the window. "This misfortune of yours—how curious and unexpected!"

Carfilhiot replied in a neutral voice: "For the whole of my inconvenience I blame Melancthe."

The elderkin smiled once more. "And all without provocation?"

"Naturally not! When have I, or you, concerned ourselves with provocation?"

"Seldom. But what will be the consequences?"

"None, or so I hope."

"You are not definite in your own mind?"

"I must give the matter thought."

"True. In such cases one must be judicious."

"There are other considerations to be weighed. I have had shocks and rude surprises. You will recall the affair at Trilda?"

"Well enough."

"Shimrod traced Rughalt through his disgusting knees. Rughalt instantly disclosed my name. Shimrod now thinks to avenge himself upon me. But I hold hostages against him."

The elderkin sighed and made a fluttering gesture. "Hostages are of limited utility. If they die they are a nuisance. Who are these hostages?"

"A boy and a girl who traveled in Shimrod's company. The boy plays remarkable music on the pipes and the girl talks to animals."

Tamurello rose to his feet. "Come."

The two went to Tamurello's workshop. Tamurello took a black box from the shelf, poured inside a gill of water, added drops of a glowing yellow liquid which caused the water to show films of light at various levels. In a leather-bound libram Tamurello located the name "Shimrod." Using the appended formula he prepared a dark liquid which he added to the contents of the box, then poured the mixture into an iron cylinder six inches tall and two inches in diameter. He sealed the top with a glass cap, then held the cylinder to his eye. After a moment he gave the cylinder to Carfilhiot. "What do you see?"

Looking through the glass, Carfilhiot observed four men riding at a gallop through the forest. One of the men was Shimrod. He recognized none of the others: warriors, or knights, so he judged.

He returned the cylinder to Tamurello. "Shimrod rides pellmell through the forest with three companions."

Tamurello concurred. "They will arrive within the hour."

"And then?"

"Shimrod hopes to find you here in my company, which will afford him cause to call on Murgen. I am not yet ready for a confrontation with Murgen; hence you must inevitably be judged and suffer the adjudication."

"So I must go."

"And quickly."

Carfilhiot strode back and forth across the chamber. "Very well, if that is the way of it. I hope that you will give us transport."

Tamurello raised his eyebrows. "You intend to retain these persons to whom Shimrod is attached?"

"What reason is there to do otherwise? They are valuable hostages.

I will trade them for the locks on Shimrod's magic, and his retirement from the case. You may cite these terms to him, if you will."

Tamurello grudgingly agreed. "What I must do, I will do.

Come!"

The two went out to the wagon. "There is another matter," said Tamurello. "One which Shimrod pressed upon me before your arrival, and which I cannot deny him. In the strongest terms I advise and in fact make demands upon you: do not injure, abase, abuse, torment, mistreat, harass, or make physical contact with your hostages. Cause them no travail, mental or physical. Do not allow them to be mistreated by others. Do not neglect them to their detriment or discomfort. Do not facilitate nor suggest, nor by any act of omission, allow them to suffer misfortune or hurt or molestation, accidental or otherwise. Ensure their comfort and health. Provide—"

"Enough, enough!" croaked Carfilhiot in anger. "I understand the gist of your remarks. I must treat the two children like honored guests."

"Exactly so. 1 do not choose to answer for harms done by you, from frivolity, lust, mischief, or spite; and Shimrod has made these demands upon me!"

Carfilhiot controlled the tumult of his feelings. He spoke in a terse voice. "I understand your instructions and they shall be implemented."

Tamurello circled the wagon. He rubbed the wheels and the rims with a blue jade talisman. He went to the horses, lifted their legs and wiped their feet with the stone. They stood trembling and rigid to his touch, but, recognizing his power, pretended not to see him.

Tamurello wiped the horses' heads, flanks, haunches and bellies with the stone, then rubbed the sides of the wagon. "Now! You are ready! Be off with you and away! Shimrod approaches fast. Fly low, fly high, but fly to Tintzin Fyral!"

Carfilhiot jumped to the driver's seat, took up the reins. He raised his hand to Tamurello, snapped the whip. The horses lunged forward into the air. Westward over the forest careened " the wagon of Dr. Fidelius, high above the highest tree tops, and folk of the forest looked up in awe at the two-headed horses plunging across the sky, with the tall wagon trundling behind.

Half an hour later four horsemen arrived at Faroli. They dismounted from their horses, to stand swaying, limp with fatigue and frustration, for already, through Never-Tail, they knew that Shimrod's wagon had gone.

A chamberlain came from the manse. "Your wishes, noble sirs?"

"Announce us to Tamurello," said Shimrod.

"Your names, sir?"

"He expects us."

The chamberlain withdrew.

At one of the windows Shimrod glimpsed a moving shadow. "He watches us and listens," Shimrod told the others. "He decides which guise he will show us."

"The life of a wizard is a strange one," said Cargus.

Yane asked in wonder: "Is he ashamed of his own face?"

"Few have seen it. He has heard enough; now he comes."

Slowly, step by step, a tall man approached from the shadows. He wore a suit of silver chain, the mesh so fine as to be nearinvisible, a jupon of sea-green silk, a helmet surmounted by three tall prongs, like the spines of a fish. From the brow hung a row of silver chains concealing the face below. At a distance of ten feet he halted and folded his arms. "I am Tamurello."

"You know why we are here. Call back Carfilhiot, with the two children he has kidnapped."

"Carfilhiot has come and gone."

"Then you are his accomplice and share his guilt."

From behind the chains came a low laugh. "I am Tamurello. For my deeds I accept neither praise nor blame. In any case, your quarrel is with Carhfilhiot, not with me."

"Tamurello, I have no patience for empty words. You know what I require of you. Bring Carfilhiot back, with my wagon and the two children he holds captive."

Tamurello's response came in a deeper, more resonant voice. "Only the strong should threaten."

"Empty words again. Once more: Order Carfilhiot to return."

"Impossible."

"You have expedited his escape from me; you thereby take responsibility for Glyneth and Dhrun."

Tamurello stood silent, arms folded. The four men felt his slow inspection from behind the silver chains. Finally he said. "You have delivered your message. You need not delay your going."

The four men mounted their horses and departed. At the edge of the glade they paused to look back. Tamurello had returned into the manse.

In a hollow voice Shimrod said: "So there we have it. Now we must deal with Carfilhiot at Tintzin Fyral. Temporarily at least, Glyneth and Dhrun are safe from physical harm."

Aillas asked, "What of Murgen? Will he intercede?"

"It is not so easy as you might think. Murgen constrains magicians to their own affairs, and so himself is constrained."

"I can wait no longer," said Aillas. "I am obliged to return to Troicinet. Already I may be too late, if King Ospero is dead."