The Green Pearl

Chapter 17

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE FINAL GOBLIN FAIR of the Season, Melancthe arrived at that inn near Twitten's Corners known as The Laughing Sun and The Crying Moon'. She engaged her customary apartments, then at once went off to the meadow, where she hoped to find Zuck and remind him of their contract in connection with the flowers.

Zuck had only just arrived and, with the aid of a nondescript boy, unloaded his goods and appurtenances from a pony cart. At the sight of Melancthe, he politely nodded and touched the brim of his cap with his first two fingers and proceeded with his work; apparently the provision of flowers for Melancthe had not yet occupied his attention.

Melancthe made a sibilant sound of annoyance and confronted Zuck where he worked at his shelves. "Have you forgotten our agreement?"

Zuck paused in his work and gave her a blank side-glance. His face cleared. "Ah, yes! Of course! You are the lady who so anxiously wanted flowers!"

"Quite so, Zuck; have you forgotten so soon?"

"Of course not! But many small details throng my mind and detract from my attention. Just a moment."

Zuck gave the boy instructions, then took Melancthe to a nearby bench. "You must understand that in our business we often deal with persons who talk largely but put little gold upon the counter. As I recall, you wished another flower or two, to grace your lovely hair."

"I want all the flowers, be they one, two, ten or a hundred."

Zuck nodded slowly and looked off across the meadow. "At last we understand each other! Such flowers command large prices; I already have a list of customers as impatient as you, and I have yet to consult my supplier in regard to the produce of his secret garden."

"Your other customers must look elsewhere, and you will be adequately paid, never fear!"

"In that case you must apply to my booth tomorrow at this time, when I hope to have definite news from the gardener."

Melancthe could extract no further information from Zuck, and most especially he refused to identify the mysterious gardener who nurtured such remarkable blooms, and at last Melancthe returned to the inn, fretful and dissatisfied but unable to implement her wishes.

As soon as she was out of sight, Zuck thoughtfully returned to his work. After a bit he called to the boy, who on closer inspection seemed to be either full falloy, or falloy with traces of goblin and humankind. His stature was that of human youth, with a supple easy quality to his movements; otherwise he showed a silver skin, pale green-gold hair and enormous eyes with dark silver pupils in the shape of seven-pointed stars. He was a pretty lad, calm, slow and even somewhat naive. Zuck had found him a willing worker and paid him well, so that, in general, affairs went well between the two.

Zuck now called the boy's name: "Yossip! Where are you?"

"Here, sir, resting under the cart."

"Come here, if you please; I have an errand for you."

Yossip came around to the front of the booth. "What is this errand?"

"No great matter. This summer you came to work one day with a fine black flower, which, as I recall, you left on the counter, and which I later gave away to one of my customers."

"Ah yes," said Yossip.

"A flower from my secret garden."

Zuck ignored the remark. "I am of a mind to put out some trifling decoration, to distinguish our booth and mark it from the ruck. To this end, a few flowers might be just the thing. Where did you obtain the black blossom?"

"Out in the forest, along Giliom's Lane, at a place I like to consider my secret bower. This summer I found only a single bloom, though I noticed several buds."

"A few flowers may be enough. After all, we are not flower-merchants or herbalists! How far is the garden? Direct me and I will cut exactly to my needs."

Yossip hesitated. "I remember neither landmarks nor exact distances. I myself will find the place with difficulty. Still, if you want the flowers, instruct me, and I will bring them here."

"A good idea," said Zuck. "Take the pony cart, so that you may make haste. Ride out Giliom's Lane this very moment; cut neither buds nor seed-pods, only those flowers which have come into full bloom. In this manner we will not injure the growth."

"Just so," said Yossip. "I will need a sharp knife to cut the stems and a bite of bread and cheese to stay me along the way, which, as I recall, is two or three or even four miles down the lane."

"Go then, and do not loiter!"

As soon as Yossip had departed, Zuck closed the booth. He borrowed a mount from an acquaintance at a nearby booth and set off after Yossip. He rode with stealth and caution, pacing himself by the squeak and clatter of the pony cart. When the lane turned, Zuck hastened forward, to peer along its way ahead, and then ride swiftly to the next turning, so remaining close behind Yossip but always out of sight.

The sound of the cart suddenly ceased. Zuck dismounted, tied the horse and advanced on foot. The cart had halted in the middle of the lane and Yossip was nowhere to be seen.

"Well done!" said Zuck to himself. "Here is the site of the mysterious garden! It is all I need to know!" Now—to return to the booth in haste, and Yossip would never know that his secret had been broached.

Zuck's curiosity prompted him to steal forward, for a better indication as to the location and size of the flower bed. Step by wary step he came down the road, running at last on tip-toe, darting glances to right and left.

Yossip stepped from the shadows carrying a small bouquet of four flowers. He seemed not at all surprised to find Zuck on hand.

"I came in haste," said Zuck. "I decided to use bunting and multicolored streamers for my decoration, rather than despoil the flower bed; therefore I thought to inform you at once of my new plans."

"That was kind of you," said Yossip. He seemed to have difficulty speaking; he warbled and lisped. "But what of these flowers I have already cut?"

"Bring them along; better yet, give them into my care. Are there others in bud?" "Very few."

Zuck looked frowningly slantwise at Yossip. "Why are you speaking with so odd a voice?"

Yossip grinned, showing silver teeth. "As I worked, I disturbed the soil and discovered this wonderful gem." He took a lambent green sphere from his mouth. "For convenience I carry it thus."

"Amazing!" said Zuck. "Allow me to examine it."

"No, Zuck! By stealth you learned the secret of my garden. By nature, I am easy, even ingenuous; but on this occasion I must pass a judgment, and your deceit must be punished by death." So saying, Yossip stabbed Zuck first in the neck with the knife he had used to cut flowers, then in the heart. Then, to halt Zuck's twitching, he thrust the knife hard into Zuck's right ear, all the way to the hilt. "Now then, Zuck! We have properly put an end to your skulkishness. I will say no more of the matter."

Yossip rolled the corpse into the ditch, and returned to the meadow, leading the horse Zuck had ridden behind the can. Yossip returned the horse to its owner, who asked in wonder: "And where is good Zuck, who rode off so briskly?"

"He has gone to examine a new line of merchandise," said Yossip. "I must meanwhile take care of the booth."

"That is a great responsibility for an inexperienced stripling like yourself! If you find any difficulties, or if you suspect that you are being cheated, call me and I will set matters right!"

"Thank you, sir! I am much relieved." The time was still two hours short of sundown. Yossip opened the booth, arranged the flowers in vases and, after some hesitation, placed the green pearl on display, in a dish on one of the back shelves. "It is a wondrous gem," he told himself. "Still, what use is it to me? I am not one for earrings nor other adornments. Well, we shall see. The gem must bring a good price or I will not sell."

In the morning Melancthe appeared early and looked here and there. She noticed the flowers and gave a glad cry. "Where is the good Zuck?"

"He is searching out new merchandise," said Yossip. "The booth is in my care."

"At least he has found flowers for me! Bring them forward; they are mine alone and must never be sold elsewhere!"

"As you wish, lady."

Melancthe took possession of the flowers. They were indeed of startling distinction, with colours that seemed to shudder with the force of their nature. Each was different; each projected a unique personality. The first: pungent orange, mingled with vermilion, plum-red and black. The second: sea-green with purple glowing under a luster of beetle-back blue. The third: black glossy-harsh with spikes of strident ocher-yellow, and a scarlet tuft at the center. The fourth: a dozen concentric rings of small petals, in turn white, red and blue.

Melancthe asked no price. She tossed down four golden crowns. "When will you have more of these blooms?"

Yossip at once saw how the wind blew. Zuck had been deceitful by an order of magnitude larger than Yossip had imagined. Still, whether for good or for bad, he could not be punished a second time. Yossip reflected. "Tomorrow, lady, I may have more flowers."

"Remember, they must be reserved for me alone! I am fascinated by their bizarre complication!"

Yossip said smoothly: "To ensure yourself full ownership, I advise that you pay over at this moment a sufficiency of gold coins; otherwise someone may be quicker than you tomorrow morning."

Melancthe contemptuously flung down five more crowns of yellow gold, and the transaction was thereby validated.

Dusk fell over the meadow. Lamps hung in the trees and a variety of folk who preferred night to day came to stroll among the booths and to chaffer for articles which aroused their interest.

At the inn Melancthe dined modestly upon a chicken wing and a turnip cooked with honey and butter. She sat with her flowers set out in four vases, that she might admire each in turn, or all together, as she chose.

A saturnine dark-haired gentleman in splendid garments, distinguished by a neat mustache, a small beard, and keen features, approached her table. He bowed, doffed his hat, and without further ceremony seated himself.

Melancthe, recognizing Tamurello, made no comment. He inspected the flowers with curiosity. "Most fascinating, and, I would think, unique! Where do such extraordinary blossoms grow?"

"As to that, I cannot be sure," said Melancthe. "I buy them from a booth at the fair. Smell, them, one after the other. Each is different; each purports with its odor an entire cascade of meaning, and meanings of meanings; each is a whole pageant of subtle and nameless aromas."

Tamurello smelled each bloom in turn, and then each once again. He looked at them with lips pursed. "The odors are exquisite. I am reminded of something to which I cannot now put a name... . The thought hangs in a far comer of my mind and refuses to stir. A maddening sensation!"

"You will recognize it presently," said Melancthe. "Why are you here, where you come so rarely?"

"I am here by curiosity," said Tamurello. "Only a few moments ago there was a tremble at Twitten's Post. It might mean much, or it might mean little, but such a tremble is always worth the investigation... . Aha! Look then, who has just entered the inn! It is Visbhume, and I must confer with him at once."

Visbhume stood by the counter, looking this way and that for Hockshank, who at this moment was busy elsewhere.

Tamurello went to stand beside him. "Visbhume, what do you do here?"

Visbhume peered at the black-bearded grandee who addressed him so familiarly. "Sir, you have the advantage of me."

"I am Tamurello, in a guise I often use while going abroad."

"Of course! Now I recognize you, by the clarity of your gaze! Tamurello, it is a pleasure to see you!"

"Thank you. What brings you here at this season?"

Visbhume puffed out his cheeks and gave his forefinger a wag. "Now then, who can explain the foibles of a vagabond? One day here, the next day there! Sometimes the way is rude, sometimes it is rough, and sometimes one must tramp onward through the rain and the dark compelled only by the gleam of one's own far star! But for now, I wish only for Hockshank, that he may find me a comfortable chamber for the night."

"Your wants will not be satisfied, or so I fear. The inn is full."

Visbhume's face fell. "In that case I must find a tuft of hay in the barn."

"Unnecessary! Step outside a moment."

Somewhat reluctantly Visbhume followed Tamurello out the door and into the road. Tamurello looked up into the sky. He pointed aloft to where the moonlight shone on a floating manse of three towers, a terrace and a surrounding balustrade.

"That is where I shall take my rest this night," said Tamurello. "But before I say more, I am curious as to why you are here when you were on last accounts hard at work in the service of King Casmir, upon my recommendation."

"True, true! With your usual acuity you understand the exact state of affairs! I believe that I will now take a bite of supper. If you will excuse me—"

"In a moment," said Tamurello. "Tell me, how went your business with Casmir?"

"Tolerably well."

"He is pleased with your information?"

"In truth, I have not yet reported to him. The knowledge I have gained is so footling that I may not even trouble to do so."

"What, in fact, did you learn?"

"Sir, I feel that I should best retain these few trivialities for Casmir's ears."

"Forsooth, Visbhume! Surely you have no secrets from me?"

"All of us have our little areas of privacy," said Visbhume primly.

"In some areas and at some times and with certain persons," stated Tamurello. "Not at Twitten's Corners by moonlight, in converse with Tamurello."

Visbhume made nervous flourishes of the hand. "Well then, if you insist, you shall know." And Visbhume added heartily: "After all, who referred me to Casmir but my good friend Tamurello?"

"Exactly so."

"I learned this much. Casmir is troubled by a prediction in regard to Suldrun's first-born son."

"I know of this prediction, by Persilian the Mirror. I know of Casmir's concern."

"The fact is simple yet most poignant! Suldrun's first-born son was sired by Aillas, King of Troicinet. The son's name is Dhrun, and in one year at the fairy shee he attained the age of nine Earthly years."

"Interesting!" said Tamurello. "And how did you come by this information?"

"I worked with vast toil and cunning. I took Glyneth to the world Tanjecterly, and there I would easily have had the knowledge had not Shimrod sent down a great monster to harass me. But I am nothing if not indomitable; I gained my information, I killed the beast, and I came up from Tanjecterly with my information."

"And the Princess Glyneth?"

"She remains in Tanjecterly, where she cannot tell tales."

"A wise precaution there! You are right! Knowledge of this sort is best kept secret, and reserved to the fewest possible number of minds. Indeed, Visbhume, one mind is enough, for knowledge of this sort."

Visbhume drew back a step. "Two minds are quite as secure."

"I fear not. Visbhume—"

"Hold!" cried Visbhume. "Have you forgotten my loyalty? My relentless efficiency? My aptitude for performing impossible services?"

Tamurello considered. "These arguments carry genuine weight! You are both loquacious and cogent, and so you have earned your life. Henceforth, however ..." Tamurello made a gesture and uttered a phrase. Visbhume's garments slumped to the ground. From the dark tumble crawled a black and green snake. It hissed once at Tamurello and darted away into the forest.

Tamurello stood quiet in the road, listening to the sounds from within the inn: the mutter of voices, the clink of glass and earthenware, Hockshank's occasional call to his serving boy.

Tamurello's thoughts went for a moment to Melancthe. Her flowers, for a fact, were intriguing; he would explore them further in the morning. As for the attractions of Melancthe's person, his moods were ambiguous and to a certain degree defensive. He had been the lover of her brother; now she showed him a cool half-smiling detachment, in which Tamurello often thought to sense the flavor of contempt.

Tamurello listened a final moment to the sounds from the inn, glanced toward the forest, where he knew a black and green snake watched him with passionate eyes. Tamurello chuckled for the sheer logic of the situation, then held his arms wide, fluttered his fingers and was wafted high through the moonlight to his floating manse.

Five minutes later Shimrod appeared in the road. Like Tamurello he paused a moment to listen, then, hearing nothing but sounds from within, he entered the inn.

II

SHIMROD WENT TO THE COUNTER, and Hockshank leaned forward to attend his wants. "Again, Sir Shimrod, I am filled to capacity; still I notice that the beautiful Dame Melancthe again visits the fair and already has bought a fine bouquet which is the envy of everyone. Perhaps she might again share her accommodations with a dear and trusted friend."

"Or even with a total stranger, should the mood be on her. Well, we shall see. Tonight I came prepared and in fact I have no need for her hospitality. Still, who knows how the evening will go? In the name of gallantry, I will at least pay my respects and possibly take a cup of wine with her."

"Have you dined?" asked Hockshank. "Tonight the civet of hare is tasty, and my woodcocks are beyond reproach. Hear how they sizzle on the spit!"

"You have tempted me," said Shimrod. "I will test one of the woodcocks, along with half a crusty loaf."

Shimrod joined Melancthe at her table. She said: "Only minutes ago Tamurello sat in that very chair and admired these same flowers. Is this the reason for your presence?"

"The flowers, no. Tamurello, perhaps. Murgen sent me to investigate a tremble of Twitten's Post."

"Twitten's Post is all the rage," said Melancthe. "Tamurello came at the same tremble."

Shimrod looked around the room. "His guise must be unusual; I see no one here who might be Tamurello, unless it is yonder youth with the copper ringlets and the green jade eardrops."

"Tonight Tamurello is an austere grandee, but he is not here. He noticed his crony, Visbhume, and took him outside, and neither has returned."

Shimrod strove to keep his voice casual. "How long ago was this?"

"Minutes only." Melancthe held up one of her flowers. "Is this not glorious? It quivers with the very essence of its being; it tells a provocation for something I cannot even surmise! See how the colours glow against each other! The odor is intoxicating!"

"Yes, perhaps so." Shimrod jumped to his feet. "I will be back in a few moments."

Shimrod left the inn and went out into the road. He looked right and left; no one was in sight. He cocked his head to listen, but only sounds from within the inn came to his ear. He walked quietly to Twitten's Corners; he looked north, east, south and west; the four roads stretched away from the crossing, empty and pale in the moonlight, with trees standing somber to the side.

Shimrod returned toward the inn. To the side of the road, half in the ditch, he noticed a tumble of clothes. Shimrod approached slowly. He knelt and so discovered a tall gray book with a golden rod engaged in the web.

Shimrod took the book to the light streaming from the windows of the inn and read the title. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small silver bell, which he tapped with his fingernail.

A voice spoke. "I am here."

"I am standing beside the inn at Twitten's Corners. Just before I arrived Visbhume came into the inn. If the post trembled, he was the cause. Tamurello met him and took him outside. I fear that Visbhume is gone: either dead or dissipated. He left behind his garments and his ‘Twitten's Almanac', which now I hold in my possession."

"And Tamurello?"

Shimrod, raising his eyes, saw Tamurello's manse silhouetted across the moon. "He has brought a floating castle; I see it now in the sky."

"I will come, but early in the morning. Meanwhile, take full precautions! Do nothing at Melancthe's behest, no matter how innocent! Tamurello's mood is reckless; he suffered at Khambaste and now he learns that he has gained nothing. He is ready to perform any act, be it desperate or irrevocable, or merely tragic. Be wary."

Shimrod returned inside the inn. Melancthe, for whatever reason, had departed.

Shimrod consumed his supper and for a period sat watching the folk of the forest at their revels. At last he went outside, and going to a nearby clearing put down a miniature cottage much like the one Visbhume had carried in his wallet.

"House, grow large!" said Shimrod.

He went to stand on the porch.

"House, stand tall!"

The house grew cabriolet legs at the corners, each terminating in claws grasping a ball, so that the house stood at a secure height of sixty feet above the clearing.

The night passed and dawn came to the Forest of Tantrevalles. As the sun raised above the trees, Shimrod came out on his porch. "Down, house!" called Shimrod, and then: "House, grow small!"

Tamurello's manse still floated in the sky. Shimrod went into the inn and made his breakfast.

Melancthe came quietly into the room, demure as a young shepherdess of Arcady in her knee-length white frock and sandals. She paid Shimrod no heed, and went to sit in an inconspicuous corner, which suited Shimrod very well.

Melancthe wasted little time at her breakfast. Departing the inn, she went to the meadow where the fair was already in full progress.

Shimrod followed casually behind her. As she entered the meadow he joined her side. "What do you look for today?"

"I have a whole bouquet of flowers on order," Melancthe told him. "These blooms are now my fascination; I dote upon them!"

Shimrod laughed. "Is it not strange that they work so strong an influence upon you? Do you not fear falling under an enchantment?"

Melancthe gave him a startled side-glance. "What enchantment could it be, save the force of sheer beauty? They are my dearest loves! Their colours sing to me; their perfumes bring me dreams!"

"Pleasant dreams, I hope? Some of the odors are remarkably rank."

Melancthe showed him one of her rare smiles. "The dreams are various. Some are most surprising. Some, I suspect, might exceed the limits of your imagination."

"No doubt whatever! I am denied such ecstasies by my mean and paltry soul." Shimrod looked around the meadow. "Where is this merchant of dreams?"

Melancthe pointed. "Just there! I see Yossip, but where are my lovely flowers? No doubt he has put them aside for me."

Melancthe ran to the booth. "Yossip, good morning to you, and where is my bouquet?"

Yossip shook his head mournfully. "Lady, in this case the truth is more simple, more elemental and more convincing than any lie. I will tell you the full and exact truth. This morning when I went to cut flowers, I came upon a grievous sight! Each plant had fallen and died, as if ravaged by the blight! There are no more plants! There are no more flowers!"

Melancthe stood rigid. "How is it possible?" she whispered. "Must it always be thus? That when I have found something sweet and dear it is taken from me? Yossip, how can you be so cruel? All night long I have pined for these flowers!"

Yossip gave a shrug. "Truly, lady, the fault is not mine, and therefore the coins you paid over to me should not be returned."

Shimrod said: "Yossip, allow me to cite the first principle of business ethics. If you give nothing of value, then you may not expect payment, regardless of all else. I speak only as a disinterested spectator."

Yossip cried out: "I cannot give up so much good gold! My plants have been destroyed; I deserve pity, not new strokes of misfortune! Let the lady select elsewhere from among my treasures! I hold nothing back! Here is an absolute prize: a black pebble dredged from the bottom of the River Styx! And observe this touching scene of a child caressing his mother, done in a mosaic of birds' eyes in gum. I stock a good selection of amulets all of great power, and this magic bronze comb invigorates the hair, repels infestations and cures scabies. These are all valuable articles!"

"I want none of them," said Melancthe crossly. "Still— let me look at that green gem you have on display."

Yossip hissed between his teeth, and reluctantly brought down the shallow box in which reposed the green pearl. "I am not so sure that I wish to part with this exquisite object."

"Come then! You yourself declared that nothing was held back! These gentlemen will testify to your word!" She indicated Shimrod and two or three others who had paused to watch the altercation.

"Again, as a disinterested spectator, I must corroborate Melancthe's statement," said Shimrod. He spoke in an abstracted voice, in search of a memory which for the moment evaded him. Somewhere he had encountered news of a green pearl, but the context evaded him. The green pearl, so he recalled, had been some sort of evil token.

"I as well!" declared a florid young peasant with yellow hair caught under the dark green cap of a woodcutter. "I know nothing of the case but I will avouch the hearing of my two good ears."

"So then!" said Melancthe in triumph. "Bring the box closer so that I may see the pearl."

Yossip angrily brought down the box and held it so that Melancthe was afforded barely a glimpse at the pearl. In a surly voice Yossip told her: "This gem is worth ten times the gold you paid me; I cannot let it go on the cheap!"

Melancthe leaned and craned her neck that she might see more readily into the box. "It is extraordinary!" she breathed, her flowers now forgotten. She reached to take up the gem, but Yossip jerked back the box.

"Come now!" demanded Melancthe. "Is this proper conduct for a huckster? To proffer, to allow a glimpse, then to snatch away the merchandise as if the customer were a robber? Where is your master, Zuck? He will not be pleased with such conduct!"

Yossip winced and grimaced in confusion. "Never mind about Zuck; he has given me full discretion."

"Then show me the pearl, or I will call for the steward and these two gentlemen shall be my witnesses!"

"Bah!" grumbled Yossip. "Such intimidation is only a step removed from robbery itself. Can you blame me for not trusting you with the gem?"

"Either the gem or my gold coins!"

"The gem is worth far more! First let us agree to that!"

"Perhaps a trifle more."

Reluctantly Yossip allowed Melancthe the box. She stared down entranced. "The colour envelops me with its fervor! How much more do you ask?"

Yossip had still not recovered his equanimity. "Truth to tell, I have not yet determined its value. This jewel might readily grace the King of Araby's crown!"

Melancthe turned to Shimrod, with arch mischief in her face. "Shimrod, what is your opinion of the jewel?"

"It is handsome, if somewhat baleful," said Shimrod. "Somewhere I have heard rumors of a similar jewel, perhaps in a fabulous legend; I cannot remember the occasion. I recall nothing good to be said for the pearl. It was worn by a Bloodthirsty pirate."

"Shimrod! Dear cautious, good, mild-mannered Shimrod! Does the legend so perturb you, when you have hardly glanced at the pearl itself?" She extended him the box. "At least give me your estimate of its value."

"I am hardly an expert!"

"In such matters everyone is an expert, since he knows what he would pay for it."

"I would give nothing."

"For once behave like an ordinary man! Take it up and feel its heft! Study the surface for flaws; gauge the subtlety of its sea-green fire."

Shimrod took the box and looked down sidelong. "It shows no obvious flaws. The colour has an envious malignant overtone."

Melancthe was still dissatisfied. "Why are you so diffident? Look at it from all sides! I want only your best and truest judgment."

Shimrod reluctantly reached to take the pearl, but his elbow was seized by the florid young peasant with yellow hair. "Shimrod, a word with you aside about this pearl."

Shimrod placed the box back on the counter; the two went a little apart and the young peasant spoke in an edged voice: "Did I not warn you against Melancthe's behests? Do not touch the pearl! It is a node of pure depravity, nothing more."

"Of course! Now I remember! Tristano told us a tale of such a pearl! But Melancthe can know nothing of this!"

"Perhaps a voice talks into her inner ear... . Tamurello is coming into the meadow; I do not want to be recognized. Tax him strongly for news of Visbhume! Under no circumstances touch the pearl!" The peasant mingled with the crowd.

Subdued and crestfallen, Shimrod went back to Melancthe. He muttered into her ear: "The fellow has some knowledge of pearls and tells me that this object is not a true pearl, since true pearls are never green. I now remember the rumor. Do not touch this false pearl as you value your soul; it is worse than worthless; it is a whorl of depravity."

Melancthe cried out in a low voice: "I have never been so affected before! It seems to sing to me, in a haunting music!"

"Still, if you have never believed me before, believe me now! Despite all your treacheries, I would not have you come to harm."

From his post behind the booth Yossip stated grandly: "I have calculated the worth of this glorious jewel: one hundred gold crowns exactly!"

Shimrod spoke harshly: "The Lady Melancthe does not want the thing at any price. Return her coins at once."

Melancthe stood limp and silent with mouth drooping; when Yossip, glaring sidelong at Shimrod, paid out the five gold coins, she dropped them into her wallet without giving them a glance.

Tamurello, in the same guise as of the night before, halted and gave Shimrod a polite salute. "I am surprised to find you so far from Trilda! Have you lost all interest in my affairs?"

"Other matters occasionally intrude upon my attention," said Shimrod. "At the moment I want a few words with Visbhume. You saw him last night; where is he now?"

Tamurello smilingly shook his head. "He went his way, I went mine; I know nothing of his present locality."

"Why not alter the habits of a lifetime and speak with candor?" asked Shimrod. "Truth, after all, need not be only the tactic of last resort."

"Ah, Shimrod! I am concerned by your negative opinion! In regard to Visbhume, I have nothing to hide. I spoke to him last night, then we parted company. I can offer no insights as to his plans."

"What did he tell you?"

"Hm hah! I fear that we verge close upon the question of confidentiality! Still, I will tell what I know. He reported that he had only just arrived from Tanjecterly, which is one of Twitten's ‘Dekadiade', as perhaps you know."

"Something to this effect has reached me. Did he mention the Princess Glyneth? What were his reports of her?"

"In this regard he was somewhat evasive, and I infer that she came to an unhappy end. Tanjecterly is a cruel domain."

"He was not specific in this regard?"

"Not altogether. In fact, his intent was to tell me as little as possible."

"While in your presence did he discard all his clothing, for reasons totally beyond my conjecture?"

"What a startling idea!" declared Tamurello, in mild reproach. "The images which you place before my mind's eye are deplorable!"

"Most odd! Last night I came upon his garments in a heap at the side of the road."

Tamurello gave his head a bland shake, "Often, in cases of this sort, the simple explanation is ignored or overlooked. Perhaps he merely exchanged his soiled and travel-worn garments for others more presentable."

"Would he discard his valuable copy of Twitten's Almanac along with the soiled clothes?"

Tamurello, caught offguard, arched his sardonic eyebrows high and stroked his neat black beard. "One can only suspect him of absentmindedness, or vagary. But of course I cannot presume knowledge of Visbhume's quirks. Now, please excuse me."

Tamurello turned to Melancthe. "And what have you found of interest?"

"Here is where I found my flowers, but now the plants are dead, and I will never know their charm again."

"A pity." Glancing into the booth, Tamurello caught sight of the green pearl. He became instantly rigid, then advanced step by slow step, to bend his head down over the box.

"It is a green glory, a nonpareil!" declared Yossip in excitement. "The price? A trifling hundred gold coins!"

Tamurello paid no heed. He reached out his hand; his fingers fluttered down upon the pearl. From the shadows at the end of the counter a green and black snake lunged forth. It seized the pearl in its mouth and gulped it down in a trice, then slid back across the counter, down to the ground and away into the forest.

Tamurello gave a choked cry and ran around the booth, in time to see the snake slide into a hole between the roots of a gnarled old oak.

Tamurello clenched his hands, cried out a spell of six syllables and transformed himself into a long gray weasel which darted into the hole after the snake.

From below ground came faint squeaks and hisses: then silence.

A minute passed. Up from the hole came the weasel carrying the green pearl in its mouth. For an instant it glared red-eyed across the meadow, then jerked into motion and started to bound away.

A florid young peasant with flaxen hair moved even more quickly. He clapped a glass jar over the weasel and fixed tight the lid, compressing the weasel down upon its haunches, where it sat, the green pearl firmly in its mouth, the long nose pushed down on its belly, and its hind legs thrust up past its ears.

The peasant put the jar on the counter of Yossip's booth, and as the group watched, the weasel dissolved into a green transparency, like a skeleton in aspic, with the pearl glowing green at its center.

III

THE GRAY CRUMBLE OF THE ASPHRODISKE SKYUNE became lost in the haze astern, as the wole ran to the west: away from the black moon, back across the Plain of Lilies. Overhead the yellow sun and the green sun circled each other with a languid incessant inevitability, which Glyneth thought might ultimately disturb a person of erratic disposition, and which, if the truth be known, she herself found unpleasant, now that she had time to brood.

With Visbhume's departure, the tension along taut nerves had suddenly loosened, and the stimulation of Visbhume's mercurial, if odd, personality was gone, leaving a flat tired aftermath.

At the first halt Glyneth insisted that Kul rest and renew his strength. Kul, however, quickly became moody, and refused to lie quiet in the manner which Glyneth considered proper. "I feel trapped in this little house!" he growled. "When I lie still, staring up at the thatch, I feel like a corpse with his eyes open. I hear voices shouting as if from far distances; as I lie idle the voices come wild and angry, and grow louder!"

"Still, you must recuperate," Glyneth declared. "Therefore, rest is needful; nothing else will serve, since I dare not use Visbhume's tonics on you at random."

"I want none of Visbhume's stuffs," muttered Kul. "I feel better when we travel west; that is the command given into my mind, and I feel easy only when I obey."

"Very well then," said Glyneth. "We shall travel, but you must sit quietly and let me nurse you. I do not know what I would do if you sickened and died."

"Yes, that would be most tragic," Kul agreed. He sat up from the couch. "Let us be on our way. I feel better already!" Once again the wole ran westward. Kul's spirits improved and he began to show traces of his old vitality.

The Plain of Lilies fell behind, and the Dark Woods, and presently the town Pude appeared in the distance. Kul took up Zaxa's two-handed sword Zil and went to stand in front of the pergola, legs apart and the point of the sword between his feet. On the high bench Glyneth arranged the blow-tube and the fire-mites, and made sure that the Tormentor bulbs were ready to hand.

Entering Pude, the wole cantered down the center of the main street, while folk peered down through the windows of their tall crabbed houses. No one came out to challenge their passage, and they crossed the bridge without a thought for the payment of toll.

With the River Haroo safely to the rear, Glyneth gave a nervous laugh. "We are not popular in Pude. The children did not bring us flowers and there was no trace of a celebration. Even the dogs refused to bark and the mayor hid under his bed."

Kul looked back with a grim smile. "To my great relief, since I too would like to hide and skulk. If the children struck me with a single flower petal I would fall flat; I lean on this sword to hold myself erect; I doubt if I could lift it to strike a blow if Visbhume's neck itself were the target."

"Why stand there then? Sit down and rest! Think strong and hopeful thoughts and soon you will be as healthy as ever!" Kul limped back to the low bench. "We shall see."

Ahead lay the trackless Tang-Tang Steppe, and Glyneth began to fear that they might deviate from their course and so lose their way. The only dependable landmark was the pink star in the east, but to keep this star directly astern was a difficult task, and the two continually searched for landmarks along the way. They passed through the region of vast trees; as before the half-human tree-dwellers issued hysterical threats and made offensive signs. Kul steered the wole so as to veer around the trees and took refuge in the pergola. "I wish to provoke no one, not even these miserable creatures."

"Poor Kul!" said Glyneth. "But do not fret; soon you will grow strong again, and you will no longer take such frights. Meanwhile you may rely on me, since I have Visbhume's wallet ready to hand."

Kul made a growling noise in his throat. "It has not quite come to that yet. Though, for a fact, I am of little value."

Glyneth indignantly contradicted him. "Of course you are of value, especially to me! We shall go slowly and give you time to rest."

"Not so! Have you watched the black moon? It is moving around the sky! When we get to the hut, my work is done, and then I can rest."

Glyneth sighed. Such talk oppressed her. If she survived, she would never forget these strange journeys across the world Tanjecterly, and perhaps the dreadful events would lose their force, while Kul's companionship, the rests at the pleasant little cottage and the wonderful landscapes of Tanjecterly would assert their charm, to which for the time being she was numb... . Could it be possible that she would leave Tanjecterly with regret? Assuming, of course, that she were to leave... . Glyneth sighed again and gave her attention to the countryside.

Travel, then rest, and travel again, and each cycle brought new events. On one occasion the wole barely evaded a stampede of eight-legged ruminants, the size of large boars, dappled red and white with long tusks and tails ending in spiked knobs. Squealing, screaming, emitting a vile odor, the column of beasts a quarter-mile wide rushed past, from north to south, and finally disappeared.

Another time they passed by an encampment of swarthy human nomads, dressed in gaudy garments of black, yellow and red. Instantly scores of children ran out to beg, and the sight of Kul deterred them not at all. Glyneth had nothing to give them and they tore tassels from the wole's rug until Glyneth caused the wole to accelerate its pace and leave the encampment behind.

At this point Glyneth began to suspect that they had strayed from the most direct route across the steppe, and her suspicions were confirmed by the sight of two knolls, each crowned by a fortified castle, and, beyond, a crag of rock surmounted by a castle, even larger and more dire. As the wole ran past, a pair of enormous knights, each taller and more massive than Kul, rode down from the first two castles. One knight wore splendid purple armour with a crest of green plumes, while the other wore blue armour and orange plumes. They halted their steeds in front of the wole, and held up their arms in apparently amicable salute.

The purple knight asked: "Good gentlefolk, we extend our greetings and ask as to how and in what style you name yourselves?"

Glyneth responded from the top seat of the pergola. "I am, the Princess Glyneth of Troicinet, and this is my paladin Sir Kul."

The blue knight said: "The place ‘Troicinet' is unknown to us. Sir Kul, if I may say so, somewhat resembles a syaspic feroce, though his face, manner, and nobility of bearing, suggest the status you have ascribed to him."

"You show discernment," said Glyneth. "Sir Kul is under an enchantment and must use his present guise for a certain period."

"Aha!" declared the purple knight. "You have explained much."

The blue knight said: "We also note that Sir Kul stands with hands enclasping a great sword of uncommon fabric. It is much like the sword Zil, carried by the murderer Zaxa of Pude Town."

"True. Zaxa at one time wielded this sword, but he gave offense, and Sir Kul took both his life and his sword. It was a tedious exercise since Zaxa roared a great deal during his dying."

The two knights examined Kul askance. They conferred together, then the blue knight, moving to the side, blew a great blast on his horn.

The purple knight meanwhile came to address Glyneth and Kul: "In view of your victory over Zaxa, we implore you to kill his father, Sir Lulie, as well. Lulie is stronger by far than Zaxa and we feel no shame in admitting our own fear of him. Lulie is guilty of a thousand horrid deeds, with never so much as a wince of remorse, much less an apology."

Glyneth said hastily: "We deplore such misdeeds, but now we have no time to take action; in fact, we are already late for very important business."

"Is that truly the case?" asked the purple knight. "Then it seems that my brother was premature in sounding the challenge."

"Absolutely! We are now departing and you must explain to Sir Lulie as best you can. Kul, stir the wole to his best speed."

"Too late," called the purple knight. "I notice Sir Lulie riding down from his castle at this very moment."

With a sinking heart Glyneth watched the approach of Sir Lulie. He sat in a massive throne-like chair on a wole, and carried a lance forty feet long. He wore half-armour: a cuirass, greaves and a casque in the mold of a demon's head, with a crest of three black plumes.

Sir Lulie halted his steed at a distance of a hundred feet. He called out: "Who blew so brashly his horn, to disturb my rest? I am quite put out of sorts."

The blue knight spoke: "The horn was blown to announce the presence of invincible Sir Kul, who has already killed your son Zaxa and now wants to see the colour of your liver."

"That is a cruel ambition!" cried Lulie. "Sir Kul, why do you pursue such violent aims?"

"It seems to be my destiny," muttered Kul. "In this case, however, you are a bereaved father and I relent. Go back to your castle with your grief, and we will proceed. Our best wishes to all; goodbye."

The purple knight cried out: "Sir Kul, evidently you spoke in jest when you described Sir Lulie as ‘the dog of a dog' and ‘a coward whose deeds stink even worse than Sir Lulie himself!' "

Sir Lulie said: "I am not a sensitive person, but these remarks carry a sting."

Kul said: "Sir Lulie, your quarrel lies with yonder two knights, not me. Please excuse us from further conversation, as we are anxious to go our way."

"Still, you have killed my son Zaxa, and you carry his sword. If nothing else, this deed calls for retribution."

"I killed him when he attacked me. If you attack me, I will find some way to kill you."

"Ha ha! I interpret that remark as a challenge."

"It is not intended to be so. Please allow us to continue."

"Not until all accounts are settled. Climb from your perch. We will fight afoot, and you shall swing Zaxa's sword against his father, if you dare."

Kul turned to Glyneth. "Do not stay for me. Fare west, Glyneth, at all speed, and may good luck go with you."

Kul jumped down from the wole, carrying not Zaxa's unwieldy weapon but his own short heavy sword. He advanced toward Sir Lulie with that lurching, forward-leaning gait characteristic to him.

Lulie drew his sword from the scabbard, and flourished it high. "Devil-beast, behold my sword Kahanthus! Your time has come!"

On the top seat of the pergola Glyneth inserted a fire-mite into the tube, aimed carefully and blew. The pellet, spreading and beating its wings, flew through the eye-hole in Lulie's casque and struck with an explosion of white fire. Lulie gave voice to a wild ululation and, dropping his sword, clawed at his helmet. Kul cut down on Lulie's elbow, so that the fore-arm dangled loose at the joint. Lulie kicked, more by reflex than intent, and sent Kul hurtling through the air, and when he struck the ground he lay still. Lulie pulled away his casque and blinked here and there through his one remaining eye; he saw Kul and lunged down to choke him. Kul raised his sword and the point penetrated Lulie's neck under the chin and thrust up into the brain. Lulie slumped down upon Kul and the spike protruding from his cuirass stabbed Kul high in the chest.

Straining greatly, Glyneth rolled Lulie's corpse to the side. To staunch the red blood spurting from Kul's wound, she wadded a kerchief into the puncture, then ran to find Visbhume's wallet. She brought out the cake of wax and applied it in desperate haste. With the wound in Kul's chest finally staunched, Glyneth found to her dismay that blood welled from the wound in his back where the point of the spike had emerged. The wounds in Kul's chest and back at last ceased to flow, but for a period Kul knelt with hanging head, coughing and spitting red foam from his lungs. At last he turned Glyneth a ghastly grin. "Once more I am well! Back to the wole; the black moon rolls!"

Kul rose swaying to his feet; with Glyneth's help he managed to clamber into the pergola, where he slumped heavily upon the bench.

The purple knight and the blue knight had long since departed, and now Glyneth saw them riding up the road to Sir Lulie's castle, whether to claim Sir Lulie's treasures or to liberate his captives she could not guess.

Now Glyneth steeled herself and, gritting her teeth, she pulled Kul's sword from the corpse, and, after wiping it clean on Sir Lulie's garments, she carried it to the wole.

Sir Lulie's sword, Kahanthus, lay on the turf: a blade of pale blue metal and a handle fitted with plaques of carved ebony and terminating in a glowing red ruby cabochon. The sword was heavy; with an effort Glyneth lifted it to the wole's back. Glyneth climbed aboard and once again the wole coursed into the west.

Kul slumped back with his eyes closed, his face pallid, his breath shallow and rasping from the blood still caught in his throat. Glyneth tried to make him comfortable, and sat close beside him, watching the flicker of expressions crossing his face. They became gradually more marked and more definite, and Glyneth began to feel eery chills at what she imagined she saw. At last she touched the gaunt cheek. "Kul! Wake up! You are dreaming bad dreams!"

Kul stirred. He groaned and drew himself up into a sitting position. Glyneth anxiously searched his face; to her relief she saw only the Kul whom she loved and trusted.

Glyneth asked: "Do you remember your dreams?"

After a moment Kul said: "They are gone now. I do not want to remember them."

"Perhaps we should stop to rest, until you feel stronger."

"I need no rest. We must travel as far and as fast as we can."

The wole ran on: league after league, across the blue grass. To the south a few two-legged wolves appeared from time to time, to appraise the wole and consult wisely among themselves, then to bound away through the trees.

Travel, rest, travel: across the Tang-Tang Steppe, a landscape whose aspect at last began to seem familiar. They passed the tall manse of the robber knight, whom Visbhume had tricked with his mirror; on this occasion no one came forth from the manse. Over the western horizon appeared the shadowy loom of mountains, and presently the River Mys swept down from the north to flow parallel to their course. The two-legged wolves, which had kept warily apart, became joined by a new troop whose elders, gesturing toward the wole, seemed to counsel bolder tactics. The band gradually closed in to run on either side of the wole, and also at the rear. One darted close and tried to gnaw at one of the wole's legs; the wole kicked the creature forward and trampled it without losing the rhythm of its stride.

Wearily Kul rose to his feet and took up his sword, and for a space the wolves drew back. Then, deciding that Kul posed no instant menace, they returned to bound close alongside, while two jumped up on the rug behind the pergola. Glyneth was ready with the tube and blew a fire-mite at the closest. It struck the creature's chest in a flash of blue and orange flame; the creature howled loud, and tumbled from the wole, to bounce here and there in wild convulsions. Glyneth aimed the tube at the second wolf, but it sagely hopped to the ground and ran skipping to the side.

After a few minutes the wolves loped off to the south and gathering in a circle discussed tactics, with much nodding of long-nosed faces and snapping in and out of thin black tongues. Meanwhile, Kul urged the wole to its best speed, and ahead, where the mountains began to swell up from beside the river, stood the hut.

The wolves loped once again to the attack. In accordance with their plan, they came up on both sides of the wole and jumped up to throw themselves on Kul. He chopped with his sword, hacking at reaching sucker-arms and heads, and cleared the space to the right, only to find the wolves surging upon his back from the left. Glyneth sent down fire-mite after fire-mite, until over the top of the pergola came a hairy arm to seize her around the neck, and a grinning long-nosed face looked closely into hers. She gasped and tore herself free and blew a fire-mite into the black mouth, and the creature departed, now concerned only with its own woeful destiny.

The hut was only a hundred yards distant, but the wolves had pulled Kul from the wole, which came to a confused and trembling halt while the wolves crowded in upon Kul. Finally, they carried him down and seethed over him in a yelping furry mass.

Kul found strength; he heaved himseif erect, to stand with sucker-arms clamped all over his body. Cursing and kicking, he tore himself free, then, lunging with his sword on high, seemed for a moment the Kul of old. But the wolves had tasted his blood and would not be denied. With snaps and yells they flung themselves upon Kul; he hacked and slashed, but his strokes were drained of force. He called to Glyneth: "Set up your house; secure yourself! I am done."

Glyneth looked frantically from side to side, then jumped to the ground and prepared to do Kul's bidding.

In the doorway of the hut appeared a tall man with dust-blond hair. Glyneth looked up incredulously and her knees went limp with joy. "Shimrod!"

"The portal is open, but not for long. Come."

"You must save Kul!"

Shimrod stepped out on the plain. He held up his hand; from his fingers came darts of black fire, which, striking the wolves, shrivelled them to wisps of gray ash. A few fled shrieking to the east; the black darts followed them and struck them down one by one, and all were gone.

Glyneth ran to Kul and tried to support his swaying form. "Kul! We are saved! Shimrod has come!"

Kul looked around with dull eyes. He croaked: "Shimrod, I have done your bidding, to my best ability."

"Kul, you have done well."

"In truth, I am already dead; now I will lie down and become still." Kul sank to his knees.

Glyneth cried out: "Kul, do not die! Shimrod will make you strong again!"

Kul spoke huskily: "Dear Glyneth, go back to Earth. I cannot come with you. I am a motley thing, held together with red blood, and now all my blood is gone. Glyneth, goodbye."

Glyneth raved: "Kul, only a few moments more! Do not die! I love you dearly and I cannot leave you here! Kul? Can you speak?"

Shimrod took her arm and raised her to her feet. "Glyneth, it is time to go. You cannot help Kul; he is about to return to his matrices and it is better that you come with me. Kul's body is dead but his love for you is very much alive. Come."

IV

SHIMROD LED GLYNETH TO THE HUT. She halted. "On the wole are two great swords; please, Shimrod, bring them with us."

Shimrod led her to the door. "Go through the gate. I will go for the swords. But do not go out; wait for me in the hut."

Numbly Glyneth stepped through the door and entered the hut. For an instant she looked back over her shoulder toward Kul. After a single glimpse she turned her head away.

Something was different. She breathed deeply. This was the air of Earth; it carried the beloved odor of her own foliage and her own soil.

Shimrod came into the hut, staggering under the weight of the two swords. He laid them upon the table and, turning to Glyneth, took her hands. "You loved Kul, and properly so; had you not I would think you heartless and unnatural, which is foolishness since I know your loving nature too well. Kul was a magical being, constructed from two patterns: the syaspic feroce and a barbarian pirate from a far moon, named Kul the Killer. These two patterns, superimposed, made a terrible creature, relentless and indomitable. To give it life, and a soul, with love and loyalty for you, we gave it the blood of someone who loves you. Indeed, he gave almost all his blood and also the whole strength of his soul. Kul is dead but these are alive."

Glyneth, crying and smiling at the same time, asked: "And who was this person who loves me? Am I to know? Or must I guess?"

"I doubt if you need to guess."

Glyneth looked at him sidelong. "You love me and Dhrun loves me, but I think that you are speaking of Aillas. ... Is he outside?"

"No. I gave him no hint that the quaver was open. If you were not at the hut or if you had come to harm, he would only be tortured all over again. Kul did not fail and Murgen did not fail; and you are here. Now I will bring Aillas here by magic. You may come out when I call you."

Shimrod departed the hut. Glyneth went to the table and looked down upon the swords Zil and Kahanthus, and her mind went back to Tanjecterly and the long way to Asphrodiske. For a moment she wondered as to Visbhume.

A minute passed. From outside she heard voices, and started to go out, then, remembering Shimrod's instructions, waited.

Shimrod called: "Glyneth! Are you there? Or have you gone back to Tanjecterly?"

Glyneth went to the door and into the dappled sunlight of the forest. Beside a carriage Aillas waited for her.

Shimrod carried the swords to the carriage and said: "I will await you at Watershade; do not loiter along the way!" He went off through the forest and was gone.

Aillas came forward and took Glyneth in his arms. "My beloved Glyneth, I will never let you leave me again."

After a moment he released her and looked carefully into her face.

Glyneth, smiling, asked: "Why do you look at me so?"

"Because under my very eyes you have become the most beautiful and appealing of all maidens alive."

"Truly, Aillas? Despite my soiled clothes and dirty face?"

"Truly."

Glyneth laughed. "Sometimes I despaired of attracting your attention."

"No fear of that now. In fact I am afflicted with all the tremors and doubts of the uncertain lover. I am anxious to learn of your adventures. How did your paladin Kul serve you?"

"He served me so well that I came to love him too! I should say, I came to love that part of Kul which was you. I saw glimpses of the feroce and of Kul the Killer and both frightened me; and then always you seemed to appear and set things right."

Aillas said ruefully: "I seem to have done much which I do not remember... . Well, no matter. Kul brought you back to me, so I must not be jealous. Here is our carriage. Let us be away to Watershade, and the happiest banquets the old stones have ever known."

Epilogue THE GREEN PEARL is locked in a bottle and Tamurello's guise, the skeleton of a crouching weasel in green aspic, is probably the least comfortable of any he has yet known... . The Forest of Tantrevalles shades a deep dank soil; somewhere under this mold lies the carcass of a snake which in better times used the name Visbhume; he no longer tippety-taps and moves and jerks to the rhythms of a propulsive inner music; and sometimes one wonders in cases like this: here is the dead thing; where has the music gone?

Tamurello and Visbhume are extraordinary folk, beyond a doubt, and both have come to grief. Still, the Elder Isles abound with remarkable folk, whose ambitions often transcend the advisable and sometimes even the possible.

As an example the Ska renegade Torqual might be cited. He has survived his wounds and now mends his strength in his inaccessible castle. Here he thinks bitter thoughts and forms gloomy plots, and he has vowed revenge upon the young Troice warrior who worked such grievous mischief upon him.

Queen Sollace of Lyonesse fervently hopes to build a cathedral. Father Umphred assures her that if King Casmir were converted to Christianity, he might be more sympathetic to the cathedral. Queen Sollace agrees, but how to convert King Casmir? Perhaps with the aid of some holy relic. Several centuries before, Joseph of Arimathea brought the Holy Grail down to the Elder Isles from Glastonbury Abbey; for Queen Soilace's purposes the Holy Grail would serve very well, and Father Umphred enthusiastically agrees.

King Casmir is still perturbed by the prediction of Persilian the Magic Mirror and still lacks knowledge as to the identity of Suldrun's first-born son.

The Princess Madouc of Lyonesse occupies an unenviable position. King Casmir knows her to be a changeling, with none of his blood flowing in her veins. Still, she may serve him some useful purpose when she reaches marriageable age. Madouc, by the very nature of things, is a strange little creature, with even less patience than the tragic Princess Suldrun for the conventions of the court at Haidion.