Lyonesse

Chapter 24

WHERE DAHALT BORDERED ON NORTH ULFLAN'D a scarp eighty miles long, the front face of the Teach tac Teach, overlooked the Plain of Shadows. At a place named Poelitetz, the river Tamsour, flowing down from the snows of Mount Agon, cut a chasm which allowed relatively easy access from Dahaut to the moors of North Ulfland. Poelitetz had been fortified as long as men had made war across the Elder Isles; whoever held Poelitetz controlled the peace of Far Dahaut. The Ska, upon seizing Poelitetz, began an enormous work, to guard the fortress from the west as well as the east, so that it might be totally impregnable. They had closed the defile with masonry walls thirty feet thick, leaving a passage twelve feet wide and ten feet high, controlled by three iron gates, one behind the other. Fortress and scarp showed a single impervious face to the Plain of Shadows.

The better to reconnoiter the Plain of Shadows, the Ska had started to drive a tunnel out under the plain toward a hillock overgrown with scrub oak at a distance of a quarter-mile from the base of the scarp. The tunnel was a project executed with the utmost secrecy, concealed from all but a few Ska of high rank and those who dug the tunnel, Skalings of Category Six: Intractables.

Upon arrival at Poelitetz, Aillas, Yane and Cargus were subjected to a perfunctory inquisition. Then, instead of the maiming or mutilation which they had expected, they were taken to a special barracks, where a company of forty Skalings were held in isolation: the tunnel gang. They worked ten-and-a-half-hour shifts, with three half-hour rest periods. In the barracks they were guarded by an elite platoon of Ska soldiers and allowed contact with no other persons of Poelitetz. All realized that they worked as components of a death-squad. Upon completion of the tunnel they would be killed.

With death clear and large before them, none of the Skalings worked in haste: a situation which the Ska found easier to accept than to alter. So long as reasonable progress was made, the work was allowed to go its own pace. The routine each day was identical. Each Skaling had his assigned duty. The tunnel, fifteen feet below the surface of the plain, ran through shale and compressed silt. Four men dug at the front face with picks and mattocks. Three men scooped the detritus into baskets which were loaded upon barrows and wheeled back down the tunnel to the entrance. The barrows were dumped into hoppers which were hoisted aloft by a crane, swung over a wagon, emptied, and returned below. A bellows powered by oxen walking around a windlass blew air into a leather tube, which led to the tunnel face. As the tunnel advanced, cribbing was set into place so that the overhead and the sides were lined with tarred cedar timbers. Every two or three days Ska engineers extended a pair of cords by which the direction of the tunnel was guided and with a waterlevel* measured horizontal deflection.

*The water-level comes in several forms. The Ska used a pair of wooden troughs twenty feet long with a section four inches square. Water in the troughs lay perfectly horizontal; floats at each end allowed the troughs themselves to be adjusted to the horizontal. By shifting the troughs in succession, the desired horizontal could be extended indefinitely, with an accuracy limited only by the patience of the engineer.

A Ska overseer directed the Skalings with a pair of soldiers to enforce discipline, should such control be needed. The overseer and the guards tended to remain at the open end of the tunnel, where the air was cool and fresh. By noting the rate at which the wagons were filled, the overseer could estimate the vigor at which the Skalings performed their duties. If work went well, the Skalings ate well, and drank wine with their meals. If they slacked or loitered, their rations dwindled in proportion.

Two shifts worked the tunnel: noon to midnight and midnight to noon. Neither could be said to be preferable since the Skalings never saw the sun and knew that they were never to see it again. Aillas, Cargus and Yane were assigned to the noon-midnight shift. Immediately they began to consider escape. The prospects were even more discouraging than those at Castle Sank. Barred doors and suspicious guards confined them off-duty; they worked in a tube similarly sealed against exit.

After only two days of work, Aillas told Yane and Cargus: "We can escape. It is possible."

"You are more perceptive than I," said Yane.

"Or I," said Cargus.

"There is one single difficulty. We shall need the cooperation of the entire shift. The question becomes: are any so broken that they might betray us?"

"Where would be the motive? Everyone sees his own ghost dancing ahead of him."

"Some persons are traitors by nature; they take pleasure in treachery."

The three, squatting by the wall of the chamber in which they spent the off-hours, considered their fellows, one by one. Cargus said at last: "If we share together the prospect of escape, there will be no betrayal."

"We have to assume as much," said Yane. "We have no better choice."

Fourteen men worked the shift, with another six whose duties never took them into the tunnel. Fourteen men bound themselves in a desperate compact and at once the operation began.

The tunnel now reached about two hundred yards in an easterly direction under the plain. Another two hundred yards remained, through shale, with occasionally an inexplicable ball of iron-hard blue sandstone sometimes three feet in diameter. Except for the sandstone, the ground yielded to the pick; the face moved forward ten to fifteen feet a day. A pair of carpenters installed cribbing as the tunnel advanced. They left several posts loose, so that they might be pulled to the side. In the gap thus cleared certain members of the gang dug a side-tunnel, slanting toward the surface. The dirt was shoveled into baskets, loaded aboard barrows and transported back precisely like dirt taken from the face of the tunnel. By partially closing two men into the side-tunnel, and with the rest of the men working somewhat harder, there seemed no lessening of progress. Always someone with a loaded barrow waited thirty yards from the start of the tunnel, should the overseer decide to make an inspection, in which case, the lookout jumped on the ventilation tube to warn his fellows. If necessary he was prepared to turn over his barrow, ostensibly by accident, so as to delay the overseer. Then when the overseer passed, the barrow was rolled so as to flatten the ventilation tube. The far end became so stifling that the overseer spent as little time as possible in the tunnel.

The side-tunnel, dug five feet high and three feet wide, and slanting sharply upward, went swiftly, and the diggers probed continually with cautious strokes, lest, in their zeal, they strike a great hole into the surface which might be visible from the fortress. At last they found roots, of grasses and shrubs, then dark topsoil and they knew the surface was close above.

At sunset the tunnel-Skalings took their supper in a chamber at the head of the tunnel, then returned to work.

Ten minutes later Aillas went to summon Kildred the overseer, a tall Ska of middle-age, with a scarred face, a bald head and a manner remote even for a Ska. As usual Kildred sat gaming with the guards. He looked over his shoulder at the approach of Aillas. "What now?"

"The diggers have struck a dike of blue rock. They want rock-splitters and drills."

"'Rock-splitters'? What tools are these?"

"I don't know. I just carry messages."

Kildred muttered a curse and rose to his feet. "Come; let us look at this blue dike."

He stalked into the tunnel, followed by Aillas, through the murky orange flicker of oil lamps, to the tunnel face. When he bent to look for the blue dike, Cargus struck him with an iron bar, killing him at once.

The time was now twilight. The crew gathered by the side-tunnel where the diggers were now striking up at the soft top-soil.

Aillas wheeled a barrow of dirt to the end chamber. "There will be no more dirt for a time," he told the winch-tender, in a voice loud enough for the guards to hear. "We have hit a lode of rock." The guards looked over their shoulders, then returned to their dice. The winch-tender followed Aillas back into the tunnel.

The escape tunnel was open. The Skalings climbed out into late twilight, including the winch-tender who knew nothing of the plot but was happy to escape. All lay flat in the sedge and saw-grass. Aillas and Yane, the last men to depart the tunnel, pulled the supporting posts back in place, leaving no clue as to their function. Once on the surface they wedged the escape hole right with bracken, pounded dirt into the choked hole and transplanted grass. "Let them think magic," said Aillas. "All the better if they do!"

The erstwhile Skalings ran crouching across the Plain of Shadows, through the gathering dark, eastward and ever deeper into the kingdom of Dahaut. Poelitetz, the great Ska fortress, loomed black on the sky behind them. The group paused to look back. "Ska," said Aillas, "you strange dark-souled folk from the past! Next time we meet I will carry a sword. You owe me dear for the pain you put on me and the labor you took from me!"

An hour of running, trotting, and walking brought the band to the Gloden River, whose headwaters included the Tamsour. The moon, almost full, rose above the river, laying a trail of moonlight on the water. Beside the moon-silvered veils of an enormous weeping willow, the band paused to rest and discuss their situation. Aillas told them: "We are fifteen: a strong band. Some of you want to go home; others may have no homes to go to. I can offer prospects if you will join me in what I must do. I have a quest. First it takes me south to Tac Tor, then I can't say where: perhaps Dahaut, to find my son. Then we will go to Troicinet, where I control both wealth, honor and estate. Those of you who follow me as my comrades, to join my quest and, so I hope, to return with me to Troicinet, will profit well; I swear it! I will grant them good lands, and they shall bear the title Knight-Companion. Be warned! The way is dangerous! First to Tac Tor beside Tintzin Fyral, then who knows where? So choose. Go your own way or come with me, for here is where we part company. I will cross the river and travel south with my companions. The rest would do well to travel east across the plain and into the settled parts of Dahaut. Who will come with me?"

"I am with you," said Cargus. "I have nowhere else to go."

"And I," said Yane.

"We joined ourselves during dark days," said one called Quails. "Why separate now? Especially since I crave land and knighthood."

In the end five others went with Aillas. They crossed the Gloden by a bridge and followed a road which struck off to the south. The others, mostly Daut, chose to go their own ways and continued east beside the Gloden.

The seven who had joined Aillas were first Yane and Cargus, then Garstang, Quails, Bode, Scharis and Faurfisk: a disparate group. Yane and Cargus were short; Quails and Bode were tall. Garstang, who spoke little of himself, displayed the manners of a gentleman, while Faurfisk, massive, fair and blue-eyed, declared himself the bastard of a Gothic pirate upon a Celtic fisherwoman. Scharis, who was not so old as Aillas, was distinguished by a handsome face and a pleasant disposition. Faurfisk, on the other hand, was as ugly as pox, burns and scars could make him. He had been racked by a petty baron of South Ulfland; his hair had whitened and rage was never far from his face. Quails, a runaway Irish monk, was irresponsibly jovial and declared himself as good a wencher as any bully-bishop of Ireland.

Though the band now stood well inside Dahaut, the proximity of Poelitetz cast an oppression across the night, and the entire company set off together down the road.

As they walked Garstang spoke to Aillas. "It is necessary that we have an understanding. I am a knight of Lyonesse, from Twanbow Hall, in the Duchy of Ellesmere. Since you are Troice, we are nominally at war. That of course is nonsense, and I earnestly cast my lot with yours, until we enter Lyonesse, when we must go our separate ways."

"So it shall be. But see us now: in slave clothes and iron collars, slinking through the night like scavenger dogs. Two gentlemen indeed! And lacking money, we must steal to eat, like any other band of vagabonds."

"Other hungry gentlemen have made similar compromises. We shall steal side by side, so that neither may scorn the other. And I suggest, that if at all possible we steal from the rich, though the poor are somewhat easier prey."

"Circumstances must guide us.. .Dogs are barking. There is a village ahead, and almost certainly a smithy."

"At this hour of the night he will be soundly asleep."

"A kindhearted smith might rouse himself to help a desperate group such as ours."

"Or we might rouse him ourselves."

Ahead the houses of a village showed gray in the moonlight. The streets were empty; no light showed save from the tavern, from which came the sounds of boisterous revelry.

"Tomorrow must be a holiday," said Garstang. "Notice in the square, where the cauldron is ready to boil an ox."

"A prodigious cauldron indeed, but where is the smithy?"

"It must be yonder, along the road, if it exists."

The group passed through town and near the outskirts discovered the smithy, at the front of a stone dwelling, in which showed a light.

Aillas went to the door and rapped politely. After a long pause, the door was slowly opened by a youth of seventeen or eighteen. He seemed depressed, even haggard, and when he spoke his voice cracked with strain. "Sir, who are you? What do you want here?"

"Friend, we need the help of a smith. This very day we escaped the Ska and we cannot abide these detestable collars another instant."

The young man stood irresolutely. "My father is smith to Vervold, this village. I am Elric, his son. But since he will never again work his trade, I am now smith. Come along to the shop." He brought a lamp and led the way to the smithy.

"I fear that your work must be an act of charity," said Aillas. "We can pay only the iron of the collars, since we have nothing else."

"No matter." The young smith's voice was listless. One by one the eight fugitives knelt beside the anvil. The smith plied hammer and chisel to cut the rivets; one by one the men arose to their feet free of the collars.

Aillas asked: "What happened to your father? Did he die?"

"Not yet. Tomorrow morning is his time. He will be boiled in a cauldron and fed to the dogs."

"That is bad news. What was his crime?"

"He committed an outrage." Elric's voice was somber. "When Lord Halies stepped from his carriage, my father struck him in the face, and kicked his body and caused Lord Halies pain."

"Insolence, at the very least. What provoked him so?"

"The work of nature. My sister is fifteen years old. She is very beautiful. It was natural that Lord Halies should want to bring her to Fair Aprillion to warm his bed, and who would deny him had she assented to his proposal? But she would not go, and Lord Halies sent his servants to bring her. My father, though a smith, is impractical and thought to set things right by beating and kicking Lord Halies. He now, for his mistake, must boil in a cauldron."

"Lord Halies—is he rich?"

"He lives at Fair Aprillion, in a mansion of sixty chambers. He keeps a stable of fine horses. He eats larks, oysters, and meats roasted with cloves and saffron, with white bread and honey. He drinks of both white and red wines. There are rugs on his floors and silks on his back. He dresses twenty cutthroats in gaudy uniforms and calls them ‘paladins.' They enforce all his edicts and many of their own."

"There is good reason to believe that Lord Halies is rich," said Aillas.

"I resent Lord Halie," said Sir Garstang. "Wealth and noble birth are excellent circumstances, coveted by all. Still, the rich nobleman should enjoy his distinction with propriety and never bring shame to his estate as Lord Halies has done. In my opinion he must be chastised, fined, humiliated, and deprived of eight or ten of his fine horses."

"Those are exactly my views," said Aillas. He turned back to Elric. "Lord Halies commands only twenty soldiers?"

"Yes. And also Chief Archer Hunolt, the executioner."

"And tomorrow morning all will come to Vervold to witness the ceremony and Fair Aprillion will be deserted."

Elric uttered a yelp of near-hysterical laughter. "So, while my father boils, you rob the mansion?"

Aillas asked: "How can he boil if the cauldron leaks water?" "The cauldron is sound. My father mended it himself."

"What is done can be undone. Bring hammer and chisels; and we will punch some holes."

Elric slowly took up the tools. "It will cause delay, but what then?"

"At the very least your father will not boil so soon." The group left the smithy and returned to the square. As before all houses were dark, save for the yellow flicker of candlelight from the tavern, from which issued a voice raised in song.

Through the moonlight the group approached the cauldron.

Aillas motioned to Elric. "Strike!"

Elric set his chisel against the cauldron and struck hard with his hammer, to create a dull clanging sound, like a muffled gong-stroke.

"Again!"

Once more Elric struck; the chisel cut the iron and the cauldron no longer was whole.

Elric cut three more holes and a fourth for good measure, then stood back in mournful exaltation.

"Though they boil me as well, 1 can never regret this night's work!"

"You shall not be boiled, nor your father either. Where is Fair Aprillion?"

"The lane leads yonder, between the trees."

The door to the tavern opened. Outlined against the rectangle of yellow candlelight, four men staggered out upon the square, where they engaged in raucous repartee.

"Those are Halies' soldiers?" Aillas asked.

"Quite so, and each a brute in his own right."

"Quick then, behind the trees yonder. We will do some summary justice, and also reduce the twenty to sixteen."

Elric made a dubious protest. "We have no weapons."

"What? Are you folk of Vervold all cowards? We outnumber them nine to four!"

Elric had nothing to say.

"Come, quick now!" said Aillas. "Since we have become thieves and assassins, let us act the part!"

The group ran across the square, and hid in the shrubbery beside the lane. Two great elms to either side filtered the moonlight to lay a silver filigree across the road.

The nine men found sticks and stones, then waited. The silence of the night was only enhanced by the voices across the square.

Minutes passed, then the voices grew louder. The paladins came into view, lurching, weaving, complaining and belching. One called out to Zinctra Lelei, goddess of the night, that she might hold the firmament more steady; another cursed him for his loose legs and urged him to crawl on hands and knees. The third could not control an idiotic chortle for a humorous episode known only to himself, or possibly to no one whatever; the fourth tried to hiccup in time with his steps. The four approached. There was a sudden thudding of feet, the sound of hammer breaking into bone, gasps of terror; in seconds four drunken paladins became four corpses.

"Take their weapons," said Aillas. "Drag them behind the hedge."

The group returned to the smithy and bedded down as best they might.

In the morning they rose early, ate porridge and bacon, then armed themselves with what weapons Elric could provide: an old sword, a pair of daggers, iron bars, a bow with a dozen arrows, which Yane at once took into custody. They disguised their gray Skaling smocks in such old torn or discarded garments as the smith's household could provide. In this style, they went to the square, where they found a few dozen folk standing aloof to the sides, scowling toward the cauldron and muttering together.

Elric discovered a pair of cousins and an uncle. They went home, armed themselves with bows and joined the group.

Chief Archer Hunolt came first down the lane from Fair Aprillion, followed by four guards and a wagon carrying a beehive-shaped cage, in which sat the condemned man. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor of the cage, and looked up only once, across the square to the cauldron. Behind marched two more soldiers, these armed with swords and bows.

Hunolt, halting his horse, noticed the damage done to the cauldron. "Here's treachery!" he cried. "Breakage upon his Lordship's property! Who has done this deed?" His voice rang around the square. Heads turned, but no one answered.

He turned to one of his soldiers: "Go you, fetch the smith."

"The smith is in the cage, sir."

"Then fetch the new smith! It is all one."

"There he stands, sir."

"Smith! Come here at once! The cauldron needs mending."

"So I see."

"Repair it on the quick, so that we may do what must be done."

Elric replied in a surly voice: "I am a smith. That is tinker's work."

"Smith, tinker, call yourself what you like, only fix that pot with good iron, and quickly!"

"Would you have me mend the pot in which to boil my father!"

Hunolt chuckled. "There is irony here, agreed, but it only illustrates the impartial majesty of his Lordship's justice. So then, unless you care to join your father in the pot, to bubble face to face—as you can see there is adequate room—mend the pot."

"I must fetch tools and rivets."

"Be quick!"

Elric went to the smithy for tools. Aillas and his troop had already slipped away up the lane toward Fair Aprillion, to prepare an ambush.

Half an hour passed. The gates opened; Lord Halies rode forth in his carriage with a guard of eight soldiers.

Yane and Elric's uncle and cousins stepped out into the lane behind the column. They bent their bows, loosed arrows: once, twice. The others, who had remained concealed, rushed out and in fifteen seconds the killing was done. Lord Halies was disarmed and, ashen-faced, pulled from the carriage.

Now well-armed, the troop returned to the square. Hunolt stood over Elric, ensuring that he repaired the cauldron at best speed. At near range Bode, Quails, Yane and all the others who carried bows, loosed a flight of arrows and six more of Halies' paladins died.

Elric struck Hunolt's foot with his hammer; Hunolt screamed and sagged on the broken foot. Elric struck at the other foot with even greater force, to crush it flat, and Hunolt fell writhing upon his back.

Elric released his father from the cage. "Fill the cauldron!" cried Elric. "Bring the faggots!" He dragged Halies to the cauldron. "You ordained a boiling; you shall have one!"

Halies staggered and stared aghast at the cauldron. He babbled entreaties, then screamed threats, to no effect. He was trussed up, knees high and seated in the cauldron, and Hunolt was placed beside him. Water filled the cauldron to cover their chests and fire was given to the faggots. Around the cauldron the folk of Vervold leapt and capered in a delirium of excitement. Presently they joined hands and danced around the cauldron in three concentric circles.

Two days later Aillas and his troop departed Vervold. They wore good clothes, boots of soft leather and carried corselets of the finest chain mail. Their horses were the best the stable at Fair Aprillion could provide, and in their saddle-bags they carried gold and silver.

Their number was now seven. At a banquet Aillas had advised the village elders to select one from among their number to serve as their new lord. "Otherwise another lord of the neighborhood will arrive with his troops, and declare himself lord of the domain."

"The prospect has troubled us," said the smith. "Still, we at the village are too close; we know all each other's secrets and none could command a proper respect. We prefer a strong and honest stranger for the office: one of good heart and generous spirit, one who will mete fair justice, levy light rents and abuse his privileges no more than absolutely necessary. In short, we ask that you yourself, Sir Aillas, become the new lord of Fair Aprillion and its domains."

"Not I," said Aillas. "I have urgent deeds to do, and already I am late. Choose someone else to serve you."

"Sir Garstang then would be our choice!"

"Well chosen," said Aillas. "He is of noble blood; he is brave and generous."

"Not I," said Sir Garstang. "I have domains of my own elsewhere, which I am anxious to see once more."

"Well then, what of you others?"

"Not I," said Bode. "I am a restless man. What I seek is to be found in the far places."

"Not I," said Yane. "I am one for the tavern, not the hall. I would shame you with my wenching and revelry."

"Not I," said Cargus. "You would not wish a philosopher for your lord."

"Nor a bastard Goth," said Faurfisk.

Quails spoke in a thoughtful voice: "It would seem that I am the only qualified possibility. I am noble, like all Irishmen; I am just, forbearing, honorable; I also play the lute and sing, and so I can enliven the village festivals with frolics and antics. I am generous but not grandiose. At marriages and hangings I am sober and reverent; ordinarily I am easy, gay and lightsome.

Further—"

"Enough, enough!" cried Aillas. "Plainly, you are the man for the job. Lord Quails, give us leave to depart your domain!"

"Sir, the permission is yours, and my good wishes go with you. I will often wonder as to how you are faring, and my Irish wildness will give me a twinge, but on winter nights, when rain spits at the windows, I will hold my feet to the fire, drink red wine, and be happy that I am Lord Quails of Fair Aprillion."

The seven rode south along an old road which, according to folk at Vervold, swung southwest around the Forest of Tan-trevalles, then turned south eventually to become the Trompada. No one at Vervold had ventured far in this direction—nor any other direction in most cases—and no one could offer sensible information as to what might be encountered.

For a space the road went by haphazard curves and swoops; left, right, up hill, down dale, following a placid river for a time, then angling away through the dim forest. Peasants tilled the meadows and herded cattle. Ten miles from Vervold the peasants had become a different sort: dark of hair and eye, slight of physique, wary to the point of hostility.

As the day progressed the land became harsh, the hills abrupt, the meadows stony, the tillages were less frequent. Late in the afternoon they came to a hamlet, no more than a group of farmhouses built close together for mutual protection and simple conviviality. Aillas paid over a gold piece to the patriarch of one household; in return the troop was provided a great supper of pork grilled over vine cuttings, broad beans and onions, oat-bread and wine. The horses were fed hay and stabled in a barn. The patriarch sat for a time with the group to make sure that all ate well and relaxed his taciturnity, so much that he put questions to Aillas: "What sort of folk might you be?"

Aillas pointed around the group: "A Goth. A Celt. Ulfish yonder. There a Galician"—this was Cargus—"and a knight of Lyonesse. I am Troice. We are a mixed group, assembled, if the truth be known, against our will by the Ska."

"I have heard speak of the Ska," said the old man. "They will never dare set foot in these parts. We are not many, but we are furious when aroused."

"We wish you long life," said Aillas, "and many happy feasts like that you have set before us tonight."

"Bah, that was but a hasty collation arranged for unexpected guests. Next time give us notice of your coming."

"Nothing would suit us better," said Aillas. "Still, it is a long hard way, and we are not home yet. What lies along the road to the south?"

"We hear conflicting reports. Some speak of ghosts, others of ogres. Some have been harassed by bandits, others complain of imps riding like knights on armored herons. It is hard to separate fact from hysteria; I can only recommend caution."

The road became no more than a wide trail, winding south into hazy distance. The Forest of Tantrevalles could be seen to the left and the stone cliffs of the Teach tac Teach rose sheer to the right. The farmsteads finally disappeared, though occasional huts and a ruined castle used as a shelter for sheep testified to a sparse population. In one of the old huts the seven stopped to take shelter for the night.

The great forest here loomed close at hand. At intervals Aillas heard strange sounds from the forest which sent tingles along his skin. Scharis stood listening in fascination, and Aillas asked what he heard.

"Can you not hear it?" asked Scharis, his eyes glowing. "It is music; I have never heard its like before."

Aillas listened for a moment. "I hear nothing."

"It comes and goes. Now it has stopped."

"Are you sure it isn't the wind?"

"What wind? The night is calm."

"If it is music, you should not listen. In these parts magic is always close, to the peril of ordinary men."

With a trace of impatience Scharis asked: "How can I not listen to what I want to hear? When it tells me things I want to know?"

"This goes beyond me," said Aillas. He rose to his feet. "1 am for bed. Tomorrow we ride long and far."

Aillas set watches, marking off two-hour periods by the sweep of the stars. Bode took the first watch alone, then Garstang and Faurfisk, then Yane and Cargus and finally Aillas and Scharis; and the troop made themselves as comfortable as possible. Almost reluctantly Scharis settled himself, but quickly fell asleep and Aillas gratefully did the same.

When Arcturus reached its appointed place, Aillas and Scharis were aroused and began their sentry duty. Aillas noticed that Scharis no longer gave his attention to sounds from the night. Aillas asked softly: "What of the music? Do you hear it still?"

"No. It moved away even before I slept."

"I wish I might have heard it."

"That might not serve you well."

"How so?"

"You might become as I am, to your sorrow."

Aillas laughed, if somewhat uneasily. "You are not the worst of men. How could I so damage myself?"

Scharis stared into the fire. At last he spoke, half-musing. "For a fact, I am ordinary enough—if anything, much too ordinary. My fault is this: I am easily distracted by quirks and fancies. As you know, I hear inaudible music. Sometimes when I look across the landscape, I glimpse a flicker of motion; when I look in earnest it moves just past the edge of vision. If you were like me, your quest might be delayed or lost and so your question is answered."

Aillas stirred the fire. "I sometimes have sensations—whims, fancies, whatever you call them—of the same kind. I don't give them much thought. They are not so insistent as to cause me concern."

Scharis laughed humorlessly. "Sometimes I think I am mad. Sometimes I am afraid. There are beauties too large to be borne, unless one is eternal." He stared into the fire and gave a sudden nod. "Yes, that is the message of the music."

Aillas spoke uncomfortably. "Scharis, my dear fellow, I think you are having hallucinations. You are over-imaginative; it is as simple as that!"

"How could I imagine so grandly? I heard it, you did not. There are three possibilities. Either my mind is playing me tricks, as you suggest; or, secondly, my perceptions are more acute than yours; or, thirdly—and this is the frightening thought— the music is meant for me alone."

Aillas made a skeptical sound. "Truly, you would do best to put these strange sounds from your mind. If men were intended to probe such mysteries, or if such mysteries actually exist, surely we would know more about them."

"Possibly so."

"Tell me when next these perceptions come on you."

"If you wish."

Dawn came slowly, from gray through pearl to peach. By the time the sun had appeared the seven were on their way, through a pleasant if deserted landscape. At noon they came to a river which Aillas thought must be the Siss on its way to join the Gloden, and the rest of the day they followed the riverbank south. Halfway through the afternoon heavy clouds drifted across the sky. A damp cold wind began to blow, carrying the sound of distant thunder.

Close on sunset the road arrived at a stone bridge of five arches and a crossroads, where the East-West Road, emerging from Forest Tantrevalles, crossed the Trompada and continued through a cleft in the mountains to end at Oa'ldes in South Ulfland. Beside the crossroads, with the rain starting to fall in earnest, the seven came upon an inn, the Star and Unicorn. They took their horses to the stable and entered the inn, to find a cheerful fire burning in a massive fireplace. Behind a counter stood a tall thin man, bald of pate with a long black beard overhanging his chest, a long nose overhanging his beard, and a pair of wide black eyes half-overhung by eyelids. Beside the fire three men crouched like conspirators over their beer, the brims of low-crowned black hats shading their faces. At another table a man with a thin high-bridged nose and a fine auburn mustache, wearing handsome garments of dark blue and umber, sat alone.

Aillas spoke to the innkeeper. "We will want lodging for the night and the best you can provide in the way of supper. Also, if you please, send someone to care for our horses."

The innkeeper bowed politely, but without warmth. "We shall do our best to fulfill your desires."

The seven went to sit before the fire and the innkeeper brought wine. The three men hunching over their table inspected them covertly and muttered among themselves. The gentleman in dark blue and umber, after a single glance, returned to his private reflections. The seven, relaxing by the fire, drank wine with easy throats. Presently Yane called the service girl to his side. "Now, poppet, how many pitchers of wine have you served us?"

"Three, sir."

"Correct! Now each time you bring a pitcher to the table you must come to me and pronounce its number. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The landlord strode on jackstraw legs across the room. "What is the trouble, sir?"

"No trouble whatever. The girl tallies the wine as we drink it, and there can be no mistakes in the score."

"Bah! You must not addle the creature's mind with such calculations! I keep score yonder!"

"And I do the same here, and the girl keeps a running balance between us."

The landlord threw his arms in the air and stalked off to his kitchen, from which he presently served the supper. The two service girls, standing somber and watchful in the shadows, came forward deftly to refill goblets and bring fresh pitchers, each time chanting its number to Yane, while the landlord, again leaning sourly behind his counter, kept a parallel score and wondered if he dared water the wine.

Aillas, who drank as much as any, leaned back in his chair and contemplated his comrades as they sat at ease. Garstang, no matter what the circumstances, might never disguise his gentility. Bode, liberated by the wine, forgot his fearsome countenance to become unexpectedly droll. Scharis, like Aillas, sat back in his chair enjoying the comfort. Faurfisk told coarse anecdotes with great gusto and teased the serving girls. Yane spoke little but seemed to take a sardonic pleasure in the high spirits of his friends. Cargus, on the other hand, stared morosely into the fire. Aillas, sitting beside him, finally asked: "What troubles you that your thoughts bring gloom upon you?"

"I think a mixture of thoughts," said Cargus. "They come at me in a medley. I remember old Galicia, and my father and mother, and how I wandered away from their old age when I might have stayed and sweetened their days. I reflect on the Ska and their harsh habits. I think of my immediate condition with food in my belly, gold in my pouch, and my good companions around me, which gives me to ponder the fluxes of life and the brevity of such moments as these; and now you know the cause for my melancholy."

"That is clear enough," said Aillas. "For my part I am happy that we sit here rather than out in the rain; but I am never free of the rage which smoulders in my bones: perhaps it will never leave me despite all revenge."

"You are still young," said Cargus. "Tranquility will come in time."

"As to that I can't say. Vindictiveness may be a graceless emotion, but I will never rest until I redress certain deeds done upon me."

"I much prefer you as a friend than an enemy," said Cargus.

The two men fell silent. The gentleman in umber and dark blue who had been sitting quietly to the side, rose to his feet and approached Aillas. "Sir, I notice that you and your companions conduct yourselves in the manner of gentlemen, tempering your enjoyment with dignity. Allow me, if you will, to utter a probably unnecessary warning."

"Speak, by all means."

"The two girls yonder are patiently waiting. They are less demure than they seem. When you rise to retire, the older will solicit you to intimacy. While she entertains you with her meager equipment, the other rifles your purse. They share the gleanings with the landlord."

"Incredible! They are so small and thin!"

The gentleman smiled ruefully. "This was my own view when last I drank here to excess. Good night, sir."

The gentleman went off to his chamber. Aillas conveyed the intelligence to his companions; the two girls faded away into the shadows, and the landlord brought no more fuel to the fire. Presently the seven staggered off to the straw pallets which had been laid down for them, and so, with the rain hissing and thudding on the thatch overhead, all slept soundly.

In the morning the seven awoke to find that the storm had passed, allowing sunlight of blinding brilliance to illuminate the land. They were served a breakfast of black bread, curds and onions. While Aillas settled accounts with the innkeeper, the others went to prepare the horses for the road.

Aillas was startled by the score. "What? So much? For seven men of modest tastes?"

"You drank a veritable flood of wine. Here is an exact tally: nineteen pitchers of my best Carhaunge Red."

"One moment," said Aillas. He called in Yane. "We are in doubt as to the tally of last night. Can you assist us in any way?"

"Indeed I can. We were served twelve pitchers of wine. I wrote the number on paper and gave it to the girl. The wine was not Carhaunge; it was drawn from that cask yonder marked ‘Corriente': two pennies per pitcher."

"Ah!" exclaimed the landlord. "I see my mistake. This is a tally from the night before, when we served a party of ten noblemen."

Aillas scrutinized the score again. "Now then: what is this sum?"

"Miscellaneous services."

"I see. The gentleman who sat at the table yonder: who is he?"

"That would be Sir Descandol, younger son to Lord Maudelet of Gray Fosfre, over the bridge and into Ulfland."

"Sir Descandol was kind enough to warn us of your maids and their predatory mischief. There were no ‘miscellaneous services.'"

"Really? In that case, I must delete this item."

"And here: ‘Horses—stabling, fodder and drink.' Could seven horses occupy such luxurious expanses, eat so much hay and swill down so much valuable water as to justify the sum of thirteen florins?"

"Aha! You misread the figure, as did I in my grand total. The figure should be two florins."

"I see." Aillas returned to the account. "Your eels are very dear."

"They are out of season."

Aillas finally paid the amended account. He asked: "What lies along the road?"

"Wild country. The forest closes in and all is gloom."

"How far to the next inn?"

"Quite some distance."

"You have traveled the road yourself?"

"Through Tantrevalles Forest? Never."

"What of bandits, footpads and the like?"

"You should have put the question to Sir Descandol; he seems to be the authority on such offenses."

"Possibly so, but he was gone before the thought occurred to me. Well, no doubt we shall manage."

The seven set off along the road. The river swung away and the forest closed in from both sides. Yane, riding in the lead, caught a flicker of movement among the leaves. He cried out: "Down, all! Down in the saddle!" He dropped to the ground, snapped arrow to bow and launched a shaft into the gloom, arousing a wail of pain. Meanwhile, a volley of arrows had darted from the forest. The riders, ducking to Yane's cry, were unscathed except for the ponderous Faurfisk, who took an arrow in the chest and died instantly. Dodging, crouching low, his fellows charged into the forest flourishing steel. Yane relied on his bow. He shot three more arrows, striking into a neck, a chest and a leg. Within the forest there were groans, the crashing of bodies, cries of sudden fear. One man tried to flee; Bode sprang upon his back, bore him to the ground, and there disarmed him.

Silence, save for panting and groans. Yane's arrows had killed two and disabled two more. These two and two others lay draining their blood into the forest mold. The three rough-clad men who the night before had sat in the inn over wine were among them.

Aillas turned to Bode's captive, and performed a slight bow, as a knightly courtesy. "Sir Descandol, the landlord declared you an authority upon the region's footpads, and now I understand his reason. Cargus, be good enough to throw a rope over the stout bough yonder. Sir Descandol, last night I knew gratitude for your sage advice, but today I wonder if your motives might not have been simple avarice, that our gold might be reserved for your own use."

Sir Descandol demurred. "Not altogether! I intended first to spare you the humiliation of robbery by a pair of twitterlings."

"Then that was an act of gentility. A pity that we cannot spend an hour or two in an exchange of civilities."

"I am nothing loath," said Sir Descandol.

"Time presses. Bode, bind Sir Descandol's arms and legs, so that he need not perform all manner of graceless postures. We respect his dignity no less than he does ours."

"That is very good of you," said Sir Descandol.

"Now then! Bode, Cargus, Garstang! Heave away hard; hoist Sir Descandol high!"

Faurfisk was buried in the forest under a filigree of sun and shadow. Yane wandered among the corpses and recovered his arrows. Sir Descandol was lowered, the rope reclaimed, coiled and hung on the saddle of Faurfisk's tall black horse. Without a backward glance, the company of six rode away through the forest.

Silence, emphasized rather than broken by far sweet birdcalls, closed in on them. As the day wore on the sunlight passing through foliage became charged with a tawny suffusion, creating shadows dark, deep and tinged with maroon, or mauve, or dark blue. No one spoke; hooves made only muffled sounds.

At sundown the six halted beside a small pond. At midnight, while Aillas and Scharis were on watch, a company of pale blue lights twinkled and flickered through the forest. An hour later a voice in the distance spoke three distinct words. They were unintelligible to Aillas but Scharis rose to his feet and raised his head almost as if to reply.

In wonder Aillas asked: "Did you understand the voice?"

"No."

"Then why did you start to answer?"

"It was almost as if he were talking to me."

"Why should he do that?"

"I don't know.. .Such things frighten me."

Aillas asked no more questions.

The sun rose; the six ate bread and cheese and continued on their way. The landscape opened to glades and meadows; outcrops of crumbling gray rock lay across the road; trees grew gnarled and twisted.

During the afternoon the sky turned hazy; the sunlight became golden and wan, like the light of autumn. Clouds drifted from the west, ever heavier and more menacing.

Not far from where the road crossed the head of a long meadow, at the back of a formal garden, stood a palace of gracious if fanciful architecture. A portal of carved marble guarded the entry, which was carefully raked with gravel. In the doorway of the gatehouse stood a gatekeeper in a livery of dark red and blue diaper.

The six halted to inspect the palace, which offered the prospect of shelter for the night, if ordinary standards of hospitality were in force.

Aillas dismounted and approached the gatehouse. The gatekeeper bowed politely. He wore a wide hat of black felt low down his forehead and a small black domino across the top of his face. Beside him leaned a ceremonial halberd; he carried no other weapons.

Aillas spoke: "Who is lord of the palace yonder?"

"This is Villa Meroe', sir, a simple country retreat, where my lord Daldace takes pleasure in the company of his friends."

"This is a lonely region for such a villa."

"That is the case, sir."

"We do not wish to trouble Lord Daldace, but perhaps he might allow us shelter for the night."

"Why not proceed directly to the villa? Lord Daldace is generous and hospitable."

Aillas turned to appraise the villa. "In all candor, I am uneasy. This is the Forest Tantrevalles, and there is a shimmer of enchantment to this place, and we would prefer to avoid events beyond our understanding."

The gatekeeper laughed. "Sir, your caution is in some degree well-founded. Still, you may safely take shelter in the villa and no one will offer you harm. Those enchantments which affect revelers at Villa Meroe will pass you by. Eat only your own victual; drink only the wine now in your possession. In short, take none of the food or drink which is sure to be offered, and the enchantments will serve only to amuse you."

"And if we were to accept food and drink?"

"You might be delayed in your mission, sir."

Aillas turned to his companions, who had gathered at his back.."You heard this man's remarks; he seems truthful and speaks, so it seems, without duplicity. Shall we risk enchantment, or a night riding through the storm?"

"So long as we use only our own provisions and take nothing served within, we would seem to be secure," said Garstang. "Is that right, friend gatekeeper?"

"Sir, that is quite correct."

"Then I for one would prefer bread and cheese in the comfort of the villa, to the same bread and cheese in the wind and rain of the night."

"That is a reasonable analysis," said Aillas. "What of you others? Bode?"

"I would ask this good gatekeeper why he wears the domino." "

Sir, that is the custom here, which in all courtesy you should obey. If you choose to visit Villa Meroe, you must wear the domino I will give you."

"It is most odd," murmured Scharis. "And most intriguing."

"Cargus? Yane?"

"The place reeks of magic," growled Yane.

"It frightens me none," said Cargus. "I know a cantrip against enchantments; I will eat bread and cheese and turn my face away from the marvels."

"So be it," said Aillas. "Gatekeeper, please announce us to Lord Daldace. This is Sir Garstang, a knight of Lyonesse; these are the gentlemen Yane, Scharis, Bode and Cargus, of various parts, and I am Aillas, a gentleman of Troicinet."

"Lord Daldace, through his magic, already expects you," said the gatekeeper. "Be good enough to wear these dominoes. You may leave your horses here and I will have them ready for you in the morning. Naturally, take with you your meat and drink." The six walked the graveled path, through the garden and across a terrace to Villa Meroe. The setting sun, shining for an instant under the lowering clouds, cast a shaft of light at the I doorway, where stood a tall man in a splendid costume of dark red velvet. Black hair, clipped short, curled close to his head. A short beard shrouded jaws and chin; a black domino masked his eyes.

"Gentlemen, I am Lord Daldace, and you are welcome to Villa Meroe, where I hope you will be comfortable for as long as you care to stay."

"Our thanks, your Lordship. We will trouble you a single night only, as important business compels us to the road."

"In that case, sirs, be advised that we are somewhat sybaritic in our tastes, and our entertainments are often beguiling. Eat nothing and drink nothing but your own stuffs, and you will find no difficulties. I hope you will not think the worse of me for the warning."

"Not at all, sir. Our concern is not revelry but only for shelter against the storm."

Lord Daldace made an expansive gesture. "When you have refreshed yourselves, we will talk further."

A footman led the group to a chamber furnished with six couches. An adjacent bathroom offered a flowing fall of warm water, soap of palm and aloes, towels of crushed linen. After bathing they ate the food and drink which they had brought from their saddle-bags.

"Eat well," said Aillas. "Let us not leave this room hungry."

"Better that we did not leave this room at all," observed Yane.

"Impossible!" declared Scharis. "Have you no curiosity?"

"In matters of this sort, very little. I am going directly to that couch."

Cargus said, "I am a great reveler, when the mood comes on me. To watch the revels of other folk sours my disposition. I too will take to the couch, and dream my own dreams."

Bode said: "I will stay; I need no persuasion."

Aillas turned to Garstang. "What of you?"

"If you stay, I will stay. If you go, I will stand by your side, to guard you from greed and intemperance."

"Scharis?"

"I could not contain myself in here. I will go, at least to wander and stare through the holes of my mask."

"Then I will follow, and ward you as Garstang guards me, and we both shall guard Garstang, so we will be reasonably secure."

Scharis shrugged. "As you say."

"Who knows what might occur? We will wander and stare together."

The three masked their faces and left the chamber.

Tall archways overlooked the terrace, where flowering jasmine, orange, elethea and cleanotis perfumed the air. On a settee padded with cushions of dark green velvet the three sat to rest. The clouds which had threatened a great storm had moved to the side; the night air was soft and mild.

A tall man in a dark red costume, with black curly hair and a small black beard, paused to survey them. "Well then, what do you think of my villa?"

Garstang shook his head. "I am beyond speech."

Aillas said: "There is too much to comprehend."

Scharis' face was pale and his eyes shone, but, like Garstang, he had nothing to say.

Aillas gestured to the couch. "Sit awhile with us, Lord Daldace."

"With pleasure."

"We are curious," said Aillas. "There is such overwhelming beauty here; it has almost the unreal quality of a dream."

Lord Daldace looked about as if seeing the villa for the first time. "What are dreams? Ordinary experience is a dream. The eyes, the ears, the nose: they present pictures on the brain, and these pictures are called ‘reality.' At night, when we dream, other pictures, of source unknown, are impinged. Sometimes the dream-images are more real than ‘reality.' Which is solid, which illusion? Why trouble to make the distinction? When tasting a delicious wine, only a pedant analyzes every component of the flavor. When we admire a beautiful maiden, do we evaluate the particular bones of her skull? I am sure we do not. Accept beauty on its own terms: this is the creed of Villa Meroe."

"What of satiation?"

Lord Daldace smiled. "Have you ever known satiation in a dream?"

"Never," said Garstang. "A dream is always most vivid."

Scharis said: "Both life and dreams are things of exquisite fragility. A thrust, a cut—they are gone: away, like a sweet scent on the wind."

Garstang said: "Perhaps you will answer this: why is everyone masked?"

"A whim, a crotchet, a fancy, a fad! I might counter your question with another. Consider your face: is it not a mask of skin? You three, Aillas, Garstang and Scharis, each is a person favored by nature; your skin-mask commends you to the world. Your comrade Bode is not so fortunate; he would rejoice to go forever with a mask before his face."

"None of your company appears ill-favored," said Garstang. "The gentlemen are noble and the ladies are beautiful. So much is evident despite the masks."

"Perhaps so. Still, late of night, when lovers become intimate and disrobe together, the last article to be removed is the mask."

Scharis asked: "And who plays the music?"

Aillas listened, as did Garstang. "I hear no music."

"Nor I," said Garstang.

"It is very soft," said Lord Daldace. "In fact, perhaps it is unheard." He rose to his feet. "I hope I have satisfied your wonder?"

"Only a churl would require more of you," said Aillas. "You have been more than courteous."

"You are pleasant guests, and I am sorry that you must go on the morrow. But now, a lady awaits me. She is new to Villa Meroe and I am anxious to enjoy her pleasure."

"A last question," said Aillas. "If new guests come, the old ones must leave, or they would congest every hall and chamber of Meroe. When they leave, where do they go?"

Lord Daldace laughed softly. "Where go the folk who live in your dreams when at last you wake?" He bowed and departed.

Three maidens stopped before them. One spoke with mischievous boldness. "Why do you sit so quietly? Do we lack charm?"

The three men rose to their feet. Aillas found himself facing a slender girl with pale blonde hair and features of flower-like delicacy. Eyes of violet-blue looked at him from behind the black domino. Aillas' heart gave a startled jerk, of both pain and joy-He started to speak, then checked himself. "Excuse me," he muttered. "I am not feeling well." He turned away, to find that Garstang had done the same. Garstang said: "It is impossible. She resembles someone who was once very dear to me."

"They are dreams," said Aillas. "They are very hard to resist. Is Lord Daldace so ingenuous, after all?"

"Let us return to our couches. I don't care for dreams quite so real... Where is Scharis?"

The maidens and Scharis were not to be seen. "We must find him," said Aillas. "His temperament will betray him."

They walked the chambers of Meroe, ignoring the soft lights, the fascinations, the tables laden with delicacies. At last they found Scharis, in a small courtyard opening on the terrace. He sat in the company of four others, blowing soft tones from the pipes of a syrinx. The others played various different instruments, to produce music of a haunting sweetness. Close beside Scharis sat a slim dark-haired maiden; she leaned so closely to him that her hair spread across his shoulder. In one hand she held a goblet of purple wine, which she sipped, and then, when the music stopped, she offered to Scharis.

Scharis, in rapt abstraction, took it in his hand, but Aillas leaned low over the balustrade and snatched it away, "Scharis, what has come over you? Come along, we must sleep! Tomorrow we will put this dream-castle behind us; it is more dangerous than all the werewolves of Tantrevalles!"

Scharis slowly rose to his feet. He looked down at the girl.

"I must go."

The three men returned silently to the sleeping chamber, where Aillas said: "You almost drank from the goblet."

"I know."

"Did you drink before?"

"No." Scharis hesitated. "I kissed the girl, who is much like someone I once loved. She had been drinking wine and a drop hung on her lips. I tasted it."

Aillas groaned. "Then I must discover the antidote from Lord Daldace!"

Again Garstang joined him; the two roamed Meroe but nowhere could they find Lord Daldace.

The lights began to be extinguished; the two at last returned to their chamber. Scharis either slept or feigned sleep.

Morning light entered through high windows. The six men arose and somewhat glumly considered each other. Aillas said heavily. "The day has started. Let us be on our way; we will make our breakfast along the road."

At the gate the horses awaited them though the gatekeeper was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing what he might discover if he looked back, Aillas resolutely kept his head turned away from Villa Meroe. His comrades did likewise, so he noticed.

"Away, then, along the road, and let us forget the palace of dreams!"

The six galloped away with cloaks flapping behind. A mile down the road they halted to take breakfast. Scharis sat by himself to the side. His mood was abstracted and he showed no appetite.

Strange, thought Aillas, how loosely the trousers hung about his legs. And why did his jacket sag so oddly?

Aillas sprang to his feet but not before Scharis slid to the ground, where his clothes lay empty. Aillas dropped to his knees. Scharis' hat fell away; his face, a mask of a substance like pale parchment, slipped askew, and looked - somewhere.

Aillas slowly rose to his feet. He turned to ponder the way they had come. Bode came up beside him. "Let us ride on," said Bode gruffly. "Nothing can be gained by returning."

The road veered somewhat to the right, and, as the day progressed, began to lead up and down, to follow the contours of swells and swales. The soil grew thin; outcrops of rock appeared; the forest dwindled to sparse straggles of stunted yew and oak, then drew away to the east.

The day was full of wind; clouds raced overhead and the five rode through alternate spaces of sun and shade.

Sunset found them on a desolate fell among hundreds of weathered granite boulders as tall as a man or taller. Garstang and Cargus both declared them to be sarsens, though they stood without perceptible order or regularity.

Beside a rivulet the five halted for the night. They made beds of bracken and passed the night in no great comfort but disturbed only by the whistling of the wind.

At sunrise the five once more took to the saddle and proceeded south along the Trompada, here little more than a path wandering among the sarsen-stones.

At noon the road swung down from the fells to rejoin the River Siss, then followed the riverbank south.

Halfway through the afternoon the road arrived at a fork. By deciphering an age-worn sign-post, they learned that Bittershaw Road angled away to the southeast while the Trompada crossed a bridge and followed the Siss in a southerly direction.

The travelers crossed the bridge and half a mile along the road encountered a peasant leading a donkey loaded with faggots.

Aillas held up his hand; the peasant drew back in alarm. "What now? If you be robbers, I carry no gold, and the same is true even if you not be robbers."

"Enough of your foolishness," growled Cargus. "Where is the best and nearest inn?"

The peasant blinked in perplexity. "The ‘best' and the ‘nearest eh? Is it two inns you want?"

"One is enough," said Aillas.

"In these parts inns are rare. The Old Tower down the way might serve your needs, if you are not over-nice."

"We are nice," said Yane, "but not over-nice. Where is this inn?"

"Fare forward two miles until the road turns to rise for the mountain. A bit of a track leads to the Old Tower." Aillas tossed him a penny. "Many thanks to you." Two miles the five followed the river-road. The sun dropped behind the mountains; the four rode in shadow, under pines and cedars.

A bluff overlooked the Siss; here the road turned sharply up the hillside. A trail continued along the side of the bluff, back and forth under heavy foliage, until the outline of a tall round tower stood dark against the sky.

The five rode around the tower under a mouldering wall, to come out upon a flat area overlooking the river a hundred feet below. Of the ancient castle only a corner tower and a wing stood intact. A boy came and took their horses to what had once been the great hall and which now served as a stable.

The five entered the old tower, and found themselves in a place of gloom and a grandeur impregnable to present indignities. A fire in the fireplace sent flickering light across a great round room. Slabs of stone flagged the floor; the walls were unrelieved by hangings. Fifteen feet overhead a balcony circled the room; with another above in the shadows; and above still a third, almost invisible by reason of the gloom.

Rough tables and benches had been placed near the fire. To the other side a fire burned in a second fireplace; here, behind a counter, an old man with a thin face and wispy white hair worked energetically over pots and pans. He seemed to have six hands, all reaching, shaking and stirring. He basted a lamb where it turned on a spit, shook up a pan of pigeons and quails, swung other pots this way and that on their pot-hooks, so that they might receive the proper heat.

For a moment Aillas watched in respectful attention, marveling at the old man's dexterity. At last, taking advantage of a pause in the work, he asked: "Sir, you are the landlord?"

"Correct, my lord. I claim that role, if these makeshift premises deserve such a dignity."

"Dignity is the least of our concerns if you can provide us lodging for the night. From the evidence of my eyes I feel assured of a proper supper."

"Lodging here is of the simplest; you sleep in hay above the stable. My premises offer nothing better and I am too old to make changes."

"How is your ale?" asked Bode. "Serve us cool clear bitter and you will hear no complaints."

"You relieve all my anxieties, since I brew good ale. Be seated, if you will."

The five took seats by the fire and congratulated themselves that they need not spend another windy night in the bracken. A portly woman served them ale in beechwood cups, which by some means accentuated the quality of the brew, and Bode declared: "The landlord is just! He will hear no complaints from me."

Aillas surveyed the other guests where they sat at their tables. There were seven: an elderly peasant and his wife, a pair of peddlers and three young men who might have been woodsmen. Into the room now came a bent old woman, cloaked heavily in gray, with a cowl gathered over her head so that her face was concealed in shadow.

She paused to look about the room. Aillas felt her gaze hesitate as it reached him. Then, crouching and hobbling, she crossed the room to sit at a far table among the shadows.

The portly woman brought their supper: quail, pigeons and partridge on slabs of bread soaked in the grease of the frying; cuts of roasted lamb which exhaled a fragrance of garlic and rosemary, in the Galician style, with a salad of cress and young greens: a meal far better than any they had expected.

As Aillas supped he watched the cloaked woman at the far table, where she took her own supper. Her manners were unsettling; leaning forward, she gobbled up her food at a snap. Aillas watched in covert fascination, and noticed that the woman seemed also to peer toward him from time to time behind the shadow cast by her cowl. She bent her head low to snap up a morsel of meat and her cloak slipped away from her foot.

Aillas spoke to his comrades. "The old woman yonder: notice her and tell me what you see."

Garstang muttered in amazement: "She has a chicken's foot!"

Aillas said, "She is a witch, with a fox mask and the legs of a great fowl. Twice she has attacked me; twice I cut her into two sections; each time she repaired herself."

The witch, turning to stare, noticed their gazes and hastily drew back her foot and darted another look to see if anyone had noticed the lapse. Aillas and his companions pretended indifference. She turned once more to her food, snapping and gulping.

"She forgets nothing," said Aillas, "and certainly she will try to kill me, if not here, then from ambush along the trail."

"In that case," said Bode, "let us kill her first, at this very moment."

Aillas grimaced. "So it must be, even though all will blame us for killing a helpless old woman."

"Not when they see her feet," said Cargus.

"Let us be to it, and have done," said Bode. "I am ready."

"A moment," said Aillas. "I will do the deed. Make your swords ready. One scratch of her claws means death; allow her no scope to spring."

The witch seemed to divine the quality of their conversation. Before they could move she arose and hobbled quickly away into the shadows, and disappeared through a low archway.

Aillas drew his sword and went to the landlord. "You have been entertaining an evil witch; she must be killed."

While the landlord looked on in bewilderment Aillas ran back to the archway and looked through but could see nothing in the dark and dared not proceed. He turned back to the landlord. "Where leads the archway?"

"To the old wing, and the chambers overhead: all ruins."

"Give me a candle."

At a slight sound Bode looked up, to discover the fox-masked woman on the first balcony. With a scream she leapt down at Aillas; Bode thrust out with a stool and struck her aside. She hissed and screamed again, then leapt at Bode with legs outstretched and clawed the length of his face, before Aillas once more hacked her head from her body, which, as before started a mad canter back and forth, buffeting itself against the walls. Cargus forced it down with a bench and Yane hacked away the legs.

Bode lay on his back, clawing at the stone with clenched fingers. His tongue protruded; his face turned black and he died.

Aillas cried in a guttural voice: "This time the fire! Cut this vile thing to bits! Landlord, bring logs and faggots! The fire must burn hot and long!"

The fox-faced head set up a horrid wailing. "No fire! Give me not to the fire!"

The grisly task was complete. Under roaring flames the witch's flesh burned to ashes and the bones crumbled to dust. The guests, pale and dispirited, had gone to their beds in the hay; the landlord and his spouse worked with mops and buckets to clean their soiled floor.

With morning only hours away Aillas, Garstang, Cargus and Yane sat wearily at a table and watched the fire become embers.

The landlord brought them ale. "This is a terrible event! I assure you it is not the policy of the house."

"Sir, do not in any way blame yourself. Be happy that we have made an end to the creature. You and your wife have given noble assistance and you shall not suffer for it."

With the first glimmer of dawn the four buried Bode in a quiet shaded area, at one time a rose garden. They left Bode's horse with the landlord as well as five gold crowns from Bode's pouch, and rode sadly down the hill to the Trompada.

The four toiled up a steep stony valley by a road which twisted and sidled back and forth, up and'around bluffs and boulders, and eventually gained to wind-haunted Glayrider Gap. A side road led off across the moors toward Oaldes; the Trompada swung south and slanted down a long declivity, past a series of ancient tin mines to the town Market Flading. At the Tin Man Inn the four travelers, weary after the work of the night before and the toilsome ride of the day, gratefully supped on mutton and barley, and slept on straw pallets in an upper chamber.

In the morning they set out once more along the Trompada, which now followed the North Evander along a wide shallow valley toward the far purple bulk of Tac Tor.

At noon, with Tintzin Fyral only five miles to the south, the land began to rise and close in beside the gorge of the North Evander. Three miles farther along, with the nearness of Tintzin Fyral impressing a sense of menace upon the air, Aillas discovered a dim trail leading away and up a gulley, which he thought might be that trail by which, so long ago, he had hoped to descend from Tac Tor.

The track climbed a long spur which trailed down from Tac Tor like the splayed root of a tree, then followed the rounded ridge by a relatively easy route. Aillas led the way up the trail to the hollow where he had camped, only yards below the flat summit of Tac Tor.

. He found the Never-fail where he had left it. As before the tooth pointed something north of east. "In that direction," said Aillas, "is my son, and this is where I must go."

"You can choose from two routes," said Garstang. "Back the way we came, then east; or through Lyonesse by Old Street, then north into Dahaut. The first may be shorter, but the second avoids the forest, and in the end is probably faster."

The second, by all means," said Aillas.

The four passed by Kaul Bocach and entered Lyonesse without incident. At Nolsby Sevan they swung to the east along Old Street, and after four days of hard riding arrived at the town Audelart. Here Garstang took leave of his comrades. "Twanbow Hall is only twenty miles south. I shall be home for supper and my adventures will be the marvel of all." He embraced his three comrades. "Needless to say, you will always be welcome guests at Twanbow! We have come a long way together; we have known much hardship. Never shall I forget!"

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

Aillas, Cargus and Yane watched Garstang ride south until he disappeared. Aillas heaved a sigh. "Now we are three."

"One by one we dwindle," said Cargus.

"Come," said Yane. "Let us be off. I lack patience for sentiment."

The three departed Audelart by Old Street and three days later they arrived at Tatwillow, where Old Street crossed Icnield Way. The Never-fail pointed north, in the direction of Avallon: a good sign, or so it would seem, since the direction avoided the forest.

They set off up Icnield Way toward Avallon in Dahaut.