The Pixilated Peeress

III – The Sinister Sect

"Dear me!" said Doctor Bardi, in nightgown and nightcap. "This is most un­fortunate. What is this creature ye say the Countess hath become?"

"A polyp. I saw them in the fish markets when I studied at Genuvia. The Tyrrhenians eat them under the name of polpo."

"Meseems not like gourmet fare. Hast ever partaken thereof?"

"Aye, once. It tastes not unlike other seafood, save that the one I ate must have been a tough old monster marine. It was like chewing rawhide bootlaces. I learned much at Genuvia, but not what to do when my sweetling becomes a creature of the deep. What wilt do about it?"

Bardi nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me, did the Count­ess partake of any intoxicating beverage betwixt the time I cast the spell and that when it took effect?"

"Sink me in Lake Zurshnitt. but did she drink! She outdrank me, with but half my bulk. By the time we returned to the room, she was as drunk as a Locanian lord. Forsooth, she even forgot her aristocratic inter­dictions against carnal commerce with commoners and set about seducing me! Shed have succeeded handily, too, had not this change come upon her. But what—"

Bardi struck his palm against his forehead. "Ah, the penalties of age! Thorolf, I meant to warn you twain that she must not touch any alcoholic liquor, even small beer, until after the change hath taken place."

"Well, why didst not?"

"I forgot! Ah, woe is me! Since this contretemps is in part my fault, I'll charge but half my regular fee—"

Thorolf roared: "You'll charge for turning my beau­tiful countess into an eight-legged sea monster? Go futter yourself! Not a penny shall you have; and you shall repair your error or face a suit for magical malprac­tice!"

Bardi recoiled. "Dear me! From what ye say, the lady hath suffered no lasting scathe. An I can restore her proper form, I shan't have harmed her. Belike I had better view her myself. Wait whilst I dress."

He vanished into the bedroom and soon reappeared in his symbol-spangled gown, saying: "Now, where did I put my cap?"

Bardi rummaged through his clutter and eventually located his headgear resting on the dried human head. It was an academic skullcap of stiff black material, atop which was fixed a square of the same material embel­lished with a dangling purple tassel.

At the inn, Thorolf whisked the coverlet off the tub. "There she is. Believe it or not, that is the veritable Yvette of Grintz. You made her short, dark, and dumpy with a vengeance, and at a most inconvenient time."

The wizard had been breathing hard from keeping up with Thorolf's soldierly stride. He gave a dry chuckle.

"Oh, ye were just about to ... Ah, to be ninety again! At least it's better than if she had turned werewolf."

Bardi fell silent while changing his eyeglasses, more closely to scrutinize Yvette, who waved a tentacle in greeting. At last he sighed.

"My good Sergeant, I fear ye've set me a task beyond my poor powers. The counterspell calls for some of the rare ingredients of the original, and I lack more of these. It might take a year or more to replace them."

"Mean you she must remain a polyp till then? *'

"Nay. There are others of the fraternity of greater puissance than I. Surely one of those can reverse the spell."

"Name one."

"The ablest for this, in my judgment, were the Great Psychomage, Doctor Orlandus."

"The Sophonomist? That were like begging aid from a tiger when fleeing a lion. I suspect Orlandus be more wind and boastery than true ability. It's rumored that his doctorate, even, be not genuine but self-conferred. I'd liefer consult Doctor Tetricus at the college; he is one of the few who backed me in the Dorelian trouble."

"But Tetricus is on sabbatical leave, is he not?"

"Oh," said Thorolf. "I had forgotten."

"So I am not the only one, ye see." The iatromage shrugged. "From all I can gather, Orlandus is not a man to be trusted overmuch; but of his genuine wiz­ardry powers there is no doubt. All I know for sure is that Orlandus' followers report amazing cures. One ninny, who never finished four grades of schooling, so augmented his powers that from the sound of a footfall he could tell the sex, age, weight, and general aspect of the walker. Orlandus claims that he who takes his full course can acquire such godlike powers; he calls such a one a 'diaphane.' "

"I've heard of them. Hast ever met such a demi­god?"

"Nay; but others tell me thereof, for whatever the tales may be worth." Bardi spread his hands. "I have told you all I can. Sergeant. This metamorphosis is par­ticularly difficult to reverse, requiring a magician of the highest powers. Otherwise she might not recover her natural form for months or even years. I can but urge you to hie yourself and the Countess to Castle Hill and bespeak Orlandus' aid—with due caution, certes."

"How shall I get the Countess from this inn without causing a riot?"

The aged mage furrowed his brow. "Could those who fetched the tub hither take it down the stair—unaware of its contents?"

Thorolf grasped a corner of the tub and, with a grunt, heaved it upward. The corner rose a hand's breadth, while the water sloshed about. Yvette moved uneasily in the tub, while color changes flickered over her mot­tled hide.

"With the water and Yvette," said Thorolf, "it must weigh two hundred or more. Vasco's domestics could never manage it; nor could I alone. It's an awkward shape to carry. Hast no levitation spell to lighten our labors?"

"Alas!" sighed Bardi. "In my youth I could levitate a hundredweight as featly as ye raise a spoonful of pot­tage; but with age my psychokinetic powers have dwin­dled. How if we hired brawny workers and fastened poles to the tub for carrying? Or better yet, run it out the window on a boom or crane and lower it by rope?"

Thorolf shook his head. "Vasco would never let us make so free with his tub."

"Ye could buy him a better."

"But in the course of this cheaping and chaffering, Yvette's transformation would surely come to light and cause a turmoil. And once we got the tub to the ground, what then? Carry her in my arms, or ask her to wriggle along the cobblestones after me like a faithful dog? We should have a mob of Zurshnitters running and shriek­ing like the fiends of the Dualist Hell. Whilst I know not how long these sea creatures survive out of water, I dare not expose her to the atmosphere longer than can be helped."

"Well, then," creaked Bardi, "wherefore not buy another tub, hire a carter, place the tub in his cart, and fill it with water? Then ye can lower the Countess by a bedsheet from the window."

"Canst imagine what the good folk of Zurshnitt would think, if they saw a monstrous polyp climbing down the sheet by its tentacles? Besides which, the ter­rified carter would flee ere she reached the ground."

Bardi sighed. "It would simplify matters an ye boiled her up and ate her, as ye say they do in Tyrrhenia."

"An ill-timed jest," growled Thorolf. "I may not be a perfect gentle knight of romance, but I have some sense of responsibility. I have it! We'll buy the tub, rent the cartage, and I shall carry Yvette out wrapped in a wet bedsheet. I'll tell Vasco that the Countess be de­parted, and this bundle be the dirty linens from our travels, which I am taking to the washerwoman."

" 'Twould require a journey to Pantorozia and back, not a day's fishing, to accumulate so much wash," said the mage doubtfully.

"Cannot be helped. Now we shall catch a wink of slumber." Thorolf pulled off his boots. "Luckily the bed is big enough for the twain. You're not the bedmate I should have chosen; but if you thrash about not, we shall manage."

With the first dawnlight, Thorolf yawned, stretched, and came fully awake. He found Bardi already up, sitting on the dressing chair and trimming his fingernails. Tho­rolf pulled on his boots, saying:

"I'm off, Doctor, and may be gone some small time. You shall remain to guard the door and keep Yvette company whilst I seek the needfuls. For reasons I need not recapitulate, I expect you to pay for these pur­chases."

"Such a mercenary springald!" grumped Bardi. "A warrior true is a reckless spendthrift."

"I profess not to be a warrior true; I save to pay for the professors' fees when I study for my doctorate. And tell that to my father, who ever chides me on my lack of proper Rhaetian rapacity! So pay me now!" With a menacing scowl, Thorolf presented his palm.

"Dear me!" Grumbling, Bardi fumbled in his purse. "How much?"

"Ten marks should cover."

"But what shall I do for food?" queried the an­cient. "Your Countess, likewise, will require aliment."

"You could climb into the tub and let her breakfast on you, if your tissues prove not too tough and stringy."

"Now who makes jokes in ill-taste? I'm sure she would find a plump fish more to her liking."

"I'll fetch you a bun and the Countess a fish," said Thorolf. "I'll tell Vasco that my lady be ill of a con­tagious disease, wherefor you are treating her; and his folk must on no account enter herein. That is no great falsehood, either."

"One thing more," said Bardi. "The polyp, I infer, is a creature of the sea. When ye fill this other tub, add a spoonful of salt, for your lady's health."

Noon was nigh when Thorolf returned. He handed Bardi his bun, unwrapped a carp, and dropped it into the tub. A tentacle whipped the fish out of sight beneath the umbrella of arms.

When mage and monster had finished their repasts, Thorolf gathered up the sheet and dipped it into the water. With Bardi's help, he spread it out on the floor and motioned Yvette to climb out on it.

She seemed reluctant to leave the water but at last appeared to grasp the idea. Over the edge she came, first writhing tentacles, then slit-pupiled eyes, and at last the bulky, boneless bag of a body. She coiled her­self into a mottled brown lump on the sheet, watching Thorolf with unwinking stare as he made a small bun­dle of Yvette's garments, borrowed from Vulfilac the smith.

Thorolf gathered the corners of the sheet and tied them together into a bag. He picked up the improvised sack.

"Is she heavy?" asked Bardi.

"No more than when she was human, which is to say a little above a hundred. Come along!"

They went down with Thorolf cradling the bundle. Vasco appeared, saying: "How doth your lady, Ser­geant? Ye told me she ailed."

"Much better now, thanks to Doctor Bardi. She's al­ready gone forth. The good Doctor will pay the scot, and your sheet shall be returned on the morrow."

Thorolf strode out, leaving a quietly fuming Bardi fumbling in his purse. The cart stood beneath the tub, to the sides of which were affixed handles for carrying.

Bardi appeared, saying: "Is that all, Sergeant? I'm fain to return to my sanctum."

"Nay. sir!" said Thorolf sternly. "You shall remain with me until we have delivered her."

He climbed up on the wheel of the cart and dumped his bundle into the tub, saying to the carter in the local dialect: "This is a rare fish, meant as a gift to the King of Carinthia if we can keep it alive. Goodman Wentz, wilt take a look at your mule's off rear foot? Methought it limped a trifle on our way hither."

Cursing under his breath, the carter climbed down from his perch and examined the hoof. While he did so, Thorolf untied the corners of the sheet and pulled it out from under Yvette. He spread the sheet over the tub.

"Nought amiss here," the carter grumbled, resum­ing his place. "Good; let's go!"

Long before, when Rhaetia had been under the kings of Carinthia, the kings' servants had erected a frowning castelet on a hill in the midst of Zurshnitt, to house the garrison and overawe the citizens. Since independence, Zurshnitt had grown far beyond its former boundaries. Left derelict, Zurshnitt Castle had been bought and re­furbished by the Order of Sophonomy.

Thorolf and Bardi walked through the Street of Clockmakers to the base of Castle Hill, followed by the cart. When the slope steepened, the mule balked until Thorolf put his massive shoulder to the tail of the cart and pushed. The street became a winding path to the castle gate.

The curtain wall with its corner turrets was made of a gray gneiss, in which flakelets of mica sparkled in the sunshine. Reaching the gate of Zurshnitt Castle slightly out of breath, Thorolf saw a pair of chain-mailed guards in azure livery standing stiffly at attention. As the cart approached, these two crossed halberds with a clang before it. One said brusquely:

"State your business, sir!"

Thorolf noticed that the swords worn by these two were not belayed to their scabbards by peace wires, as required of the civilians of Zurshnitt. He said: "We have the victim of a spell gone awry, and we are told that Doctor Orlandus can cure such maladies."

"Who is this victim?" snapped the guard. "Is it ye?"

"Nay; she's in the tub. It is vital to keep her cov­ered."

The guard glowered. "Think ye we'd let such a mys­terious load into our headquarters uninspected? Ye maun be daft! Uncover it, Crasmund!"

"Ho!" cried Thorolf. "Don't—"

The other guard had already seized a corner of the sheet. Now he whipped it off and stared into the tub. He reeled back with a shriek: "A demon! A demon!"

"What?" cried the other guard, pushing forward for a look. "Nay, 'tis a monster!"

The carter gave a squeal like that of a rusty hinge, leaped down from his seat, and ran.

"A demon, I say!" yelled the first guard.

"Nay, a monster!" shouted the second.

"A demon!"

"A monster!"

"A demon, as any nullwit can see!"

"Fools!" roared Thorolf. "It's my patient, for Doc­tor Orlandus to treat!"

"Demon or monster, I'll send it back to its native hell!" screamed the first guard, raising his halberd to thrust at Yvette with the spearhead on the end.

"Stop!" yelled Thorolf. He sprang toward the first guard and seized the shaft of the halberd below the ax head. "You idiots, that's the Countess of Grintz, ensorceled!"

"Ha!" snorted the first guard, wrestling with Thorolf for possession of the halberd. "I once met a countess, when I soldiered for the Count of Treveria, and she looked not at all like this! Guard! Turn out!"

With a mighty wrench, Thorolf tore the weapon from the guard. Losing his grip on the shaft, the guard, backed against the side of the cart, reached for his sword. He had it half out of the scabbard when a mot­tled, brown-and-white tentacle snaked out of the tub, caught him round the neck, and dragged him shrieking over the edge.

Sensing motion behind him, Thorolf whirled to meet the other guard. The man swung his halberd in a de­capitating blow. Thorolf knew that, while the swing of this top-heavy weapon was slow enough to be usually evaded or parried, when such a blow got home it com­monly killed. He also knew that he fought at a disad­vantage. While the guards seemed eager to kill him, he did not wish to slay either and thus foreclose all chance of help from Orlandus.

He caught the swing of the other halberd on the head of the one in his hands. The ax heads met with a hid­eous clang. Instead of retaliating in kind, Thorolf re­versed his shaft and rammed the butt into the guard's solar plexus. The coat of mesh mail and the padded acton beneath did little to break the force of the thrust; the man went sprawling on the cobbles, doubled up and clutching his midriff.

Thorolf turned to glimpse the carter in flight down the path up which they had come, and Doctor Bardi crawling under the cart. The legs of the guard whose halberd Thorolf had taken dangled kicking over the edge, of the tub, while from the tub came the bubbling sounds of a man trying to shout with his face under water.

"What in the seven hells betides?" shouted another armored man, an officer from his scarlet insignia, is­suing from the portal at the head of a squad of blue-clad guards.

"I came to present a patient for Doctor Orlandus to treat—" began Thorolf.

The felled guard, who had stopped coughing, climbed to his feet and cried: "He—he seeks to smuggle a mon­ster into the castle!"

"Give up your weapons, and we'll look into this mat­ter, " the officer growled.

"No, sir, I will not! I am a soldier of the Rhaetian Army, and those idiots attacked me without provoca­tion."

"What doth my man in yon tub?" asked the officer.

"My patient, who is in the tub, came to mine aid," Thorolf said, leaning the halberd against the cart and pulling the barely conscious guard out by the legs. Tho­rolf turned him over, hoisted him by the middle, and shook the water out of him. The man went into an ag­ony of coughing.

The officer stepped to the tub. "That's your pa­tient?"

"Aye; she's a noble lady under enchantment."

"Ha!" said the officer. "When I believe that, I shall believe the legend that Arnalt of Thessen rode his horse across Lake Zurshnitt atop the waves."

"Ah, Sergeant Thorolf of the Fourth Foot, I be­lieve! " said a new voice from the gateway. The cluster of guards opened out as the newcomer approached. As he passed among them, they placed hands over their hearts and bowed low.

The object of their reverence was a tall, lean man with a long, mobile face, wherein slanting eyebrows and greenish-blue eyes effected a slightly eerie look. He wore a scarlet robe of shimmering stuff. Upon his midnight mane of long black hair reposed a golden ac­ademic cap, whose dangling tassel glinted with little gems.

"Who is that beneath the cart?" demanded the new­comer. "Ah, I do perceive my respected colleague, Doctor Bardi. Come out, my dear fellow! None shall harm a hair of your venerable head."

Brushing dirt from his robe, Bardi arduously rose. "I am sorry, Doctor Orlandus," he coughed, stooping to pick up his mortarboard. "Dear me! I fear that I be too old for the robustious games your minions play. Had ye not appeared so timely, they would have harmed far more than the hairs of our heads."

He finished brushing his cap and ceremoniously raised it to the Psychomage, who in turn tipped his cap to Bardi before he strode to the tub.

"Who was this when she had her normal form?" he asked in a mellifluous voice.

"Countess Yvette of Grintz," said Thorolf. "Bardi tried to alter her appearance, the better to elude her foes; but something went awry."

"Ah, yea; the widow of Count Volk. A woman of exceptional qualities; she could easily become a diaphane, thus enhancing her already notable powers. Our spells never miscarry thus." He turned to his guards­men. "Captain, tell four men to bear this tub within.

Choose another to fetch fodder for the mule, and guard the cart until the carter return for his property. Now follow me, my dear friends."

As they walked leisurely under the raised portcullis, Orlandus continued: "Your Countess escaped from Duke Gondomar with nought but a horse, her gar­ments, and her coronet, did she not? And presently lost both horse and clothes to her pursuers. Where is the coronet now?"

"In safekeeping," growled Thorolf suspiciously, glancing about.

On the inner side of the curtain wall, many stairways led to the parapet. Between the stairways, casements had been built into the massive lower wall, forming living quarters. In the middle of the enclosure, sepa­rated from the curtain wall by a space of twenty or thirty feet all the way round, rose the keep, a massive, turreted building of rust-red sandstone. It overtopped the curtain wall by a whole storey. On the second and third levels, the present owners had replaced the arrow slits by diamond-paned glass windows.

As they crossed the courtyard, persons of various ages bustled out one door and in another. All wore robes, calf-length for the men and ankle-length for the women. Some were bright yellow and the rest gray, save for one or two in scarlet like that of the leader. Beyond, Thorolf glimpsed a couple of women in nondescript attire wash­ing clothes in a tub and three small children playing. The guards' families, he thought.

In the midst of the yard, three men and two women in gray robes were on their knees, washing the cobble­stones with scrubbing brushes and water buckets. As Thorolf passed these scrubbers, one of the women, young and pretty, looked up. At Orlandus' frown she hastily looked down again and resumed her labor.

They entered one of the massive doors of the keep and passed down a hall. Another young woman in gray stood meekly aside as they entered and then resumed polishing the inside doorknob. Orlandus said:

"Ah, yea; my prudent sergeant would deposit Yvette's bauble safely, would he not? 'Twould fetch a pretty sum—belike twelve thousand marks."

He conducted them up a long stair, down the right-hand one of a pair of long halls, and into a spacious room, containing chairs, a divan, and a large desk. Seating himself behind the desk, Orlandus motioned Thorolf and Bardi to chairs. At another gesture, the soldiers set down the tub and departed.

Thorolf glanced around. In contrast to Bardi's dusty clutter, the chamber was as clean, neat, bare, and or­derly as if it had never been occupied at all. The door through which they had come was one of a pair on one of the long sides of the room, which was cheerfully lit by diamond-paned casement windows at the ends. On the long side facing the doors was a low fireplace, but no fire had been laid and there were neither ashes nor cinders on the hearth.

Above the fireplace hung a huge framed painting, ex­tending to the ceiling and dark with the dirt of decades. Through the grime it faintly showed the God and God­dess, Voth and Frea, of the Dualistic Church of Carinthia and the Empire. A small tear above Voth's head had not been repaired.

The Divine Pair had originally been painted seated on the natural thrones formed by a pair of thick-stemmed, twisted trees. The divinities extended bene­dictory hands above a multitude of tiny figures, representing mortal mankind, which swarmed about their feet. The Pair had originally been nude, Voth with a great black beard rippling down his chest and a wreath of laurel leaves on his hair; Frea as a beautiful blond woman of matronly figure. Someone had later painted bronze-green oak leaves over the Divine Couple's sex­ual characters.

Following Thorolf's glance, Orlandus said: "This was the audience chamber of the Carinthian governors when they ruled in Rhaetia. When the Carinthians de­parted, they evidently found the moving of yon painting more trouble than they deemed it worth. According to a Tyrrhenian expert I had in, it is second-rate art. Still, it might be worth cleaning some day when we have the time."

Thorolf said: "Here are the garments she wore ere her transformation." He laid the bundle on Orlandus' desk before sitting down. "I see you are not using the fireplace, Doctor, albeit winter will be upon us ere­long."

Orlandus smiled. "The fireplace is more ornamental than useful. The castle hath an amenity invented in the days of the old Neapolitan Empire but neglected since. It is clept central heating. A furnace in the basement sends warm air through ducts to the far reaches of the building."

Another good-looking woman of about Yvette's age, also swathed in gray, entered and began mopping the floor, although Thorolf could not discern a speck of dust. He said:

"You keep a neat hold, Doctor."

"Surely. I am a modern, scientific magus. All oper­ations are conducted in accordance with the latest prin­ciples of natural philosophy. One cannot be efficient without order."

Thorolf exchanged glances with Bardi, whose sanc­tum was at a polar extreme from their present surround­ings. The soldier jerked his head towards the woman mopping. "Do your folk clean even when there is no dirt?"

Orlandus chuckled. "She serves a light sentence of expiation for a breach of discipline by a member of our order, of the lowest or probationary grade. Only when the aspirant hath risen to the rank of diaphane is he or she immune to such discipline. Since the recent warm spell hath made it needless to stoke the central furnace, I have instead passed sentences of cleaning and polish­ing. A diaphane, however, knows the right thing to do on all occasions and does it.

"Let us return to the concomitants of my treatment of your Countess, since you expressed the desire that I do so. The price of the coronet would not nearly cover the cost of the Spell of Mimingus needed to restore Yvette to her winsome former self. You, Sergeant, have seven hundred-odd marks on deposit with Banker Vi­rus, saved up for your tuition. And you, Doctor Bardi, have at least fifteen thousand in the hoard you secrete in your house."

"How knew you?" blurted Thorolf.

"Ah, what good were my arcane powers if I kept not abreast of my clients' affairs? Adding the sums from the coronet and your respective assets, that gives a total of about thirty thousand marks. Not nearly enough, I fear."

Thorolf bristled. "Meanst that you'd leave her in her polypose form if we cannot raise money beyond all we own?"

"My dear fellow! Take not so rigid a view. With a little adjustment, I am sure we can come to an amicable arrangement. I know somewhat of Yvette of Grintz, whose presence would much enhance my following. There is no rush about paying me all at once. I shall expect payment in installments of, let us say, one-tenth at a time, to allow you gentlemen time to arrange for loans.

"Meanwhile I shall keep Yvette here. Come back in a fortnight, with the first installment, and you shall find her restored. But she will not return to you until you have met the full cost of this difficult operation."

Thorolf thought privately that anyone who tried to hold Yvette against her will would find his work cut out for him. He said: "How would you stop her from leav­ing the castle?"

"Not by bars and shackles, I do assure you. She will understand that she owes it to me to remain here until the costs of the operation be met. The total reckoning will be—ah—thirty-five thousand marks."

"Ye'd beggar us!" grumbled Bardi.

"I am truly sorry, but this cannot be helped. Without resources I cannot carry on my great work for the ben­efit of mankind. Let it be agreed that one or the other shall return a fortnight hence with the first payment, thirty-five hundred marks, in good Rhaetian gold or sil­ver." Orlandus rose. "Now let us part so that I can begin the arduous and costly preparations."

Taking each visitor by the elbow, Orlandus steered them to the gate, talking smoothly the while: "After this affair be wound up, my good Sergeant, I should welcome you as a subject for my mind-enhancing treat­ment. I do perceive you to be a man of great potential, combining the body of a mighty warrior with the mind of a scholar. This is a rare blend; we might even make a diaphane of you, could you stay the course."

"Gramercy for your compliments," said Thorolf. "But do your treatments require more money?"

"Certes! We cannot conduct this world-saving insti­tution and maintain our headquarters and laboratories on air. But I am sure that arrangements can be effected, once you are enrolled amongst the followers of Sophonomy. We can rid you of all the fears and guilts accumulated in previous lives."

"For now," said Thorolf, "my obligation is to the Commonwealth and its Constitution. I'll do nought that conflicts with those."

"But of course, my dear fellow! Many of my people also give loyal service to the Commonwealth in various capacities." He spoke to a gate guard: "Where is the cart these gentlemen brought that tub in?"

"The carter returned and drave it off, Master," said the guard, placing a hand over his heart and bowing.

"Good! We are scrupulous in such affairs. We shall discuss these matters further. Sergeant. And now, my friends, farewell. Remember, a fortnight hence!"

Leading his horse. Thorolf arrived at the barracks just as the morning's drill was being dismissed and the men were returning their pikes to the huge rack at the side of the drill ground. Captain Bothvar came up with a scowl like a thunderstorm, saying:

"Where in the seven hells have ye been, Thorolf? Your leave went only till muster time this morn. 'Tis not like you to vanish without leave."

"A matter of honor, sir. A noble lady who besought my aid met with an accident, and there was none but I to obtain her the proper medical care."

"Hmm. If ye say so, I daresay 'tis so. I put Sergeant Regin in your stead; ye can trade leaves with him to make up the time."

After his midday meal, instead of retiring to his room for an afternoon of quiet study, Thorolf set out for the consular palace. He had to wait an hour before being admitted to see his father. While he waited, pictures of Yvette floated through his mind. If only old Bardi had not blundered; or if the spell could have been post­poned for a single day ...

Thorolf had never felt apologetic about his virginal state, since the Paganist religion was fairly strict in its sexual standards. Because of his brawn, none of the soldiers beneath his orders dared to chaff him about it. after he had thrown one scoffer twenty feet into a ma­nure pile. His fellow sergeant, Regin, who notoriously flouted these standards, sometimes remarked after a weekend of revelry:

"Well, Thorolf old boy, hast become a real man yet?"

But he said it in fun. He could do it with impunity because he was Thorolf's closest friend among the sol­diers.

At last Thorolf was waved into the Consul's inner chamber. Clad in official scarlet, Consul Zigram over­flowed the chair in which he sat behind an oversized desk. The side of this desk toward the Consul was curved to make room for Thorolf's father's bulk, which his luxuriant snow-white beard covered. His golden chain and medallion of office were hung round his neck atop the beard, which would otherwise have concealed them.

"Greetings, son!" puffed the Consul. "How wags thy world?"

"Well enough, Father. Hast heard of my involvement with the Countess of Grintz?"

"Only that ye brought this fair fugitive to Vasco's inn for the night. Where is she now? We lust not for a confrontation with the Duke of Landai."

"At Bardi's urging, I left her in charge of Doctor Orlandus, to treat her for an ill. Now I would fain ask some questions about this Orlandus and his Sophonomists."

The change in the Consul's aspect startled Thorolf. His fat features seemed to collapse like a ruptured blad­der, while his eyes rounded with fear. Casting about furtive looks, like those of a rabbit stealing cabbages, he whispered:

"Son, son, mention not that name within these walls!"

"But Father, these folk might be dangerous to the Commonwealth! Orlandus' guards go about with swords unwired, as if members of the army or the Constabu­lary—"

"Shh!" Zigram laid a finger to his lips. "Not a word about them or their leader! I cannot explain here, for the walls have ears."

Thorolf frowned. "As bad as that? Where can we talk frankly, then? In your private quarters?"

"Nay; I never know when a flunky or chambermaid hath been suborned."

"How about our old house? We could ask the tenants to leave us alone in a room—"

"Nay; knew ye not? The tenant hath bought the place."

"I knew there was talk—" began Thorolf.

"Well, he did. Without your mother, I saw no use in keeping up that old pile, especially since I won the consular election. And speaking of your mother, I never truly appreciated the lass whilst she lived." Zigram hastily wiped a damp eyelid with his sleeve.

Thorolf proposed: "Shall I take a room at Vasco's again? I must return thither to give Vasco a sheet I borrowed."

The Consul hesitated, then said: "Nay, nay; they'd follow me." Still whispering, Zigram added: "My dear son, have nought to do with these folk, any more than youd pick up a viper with a bare hand! Flee all contact! A clean pair of heels is your only salvation."

"But I cannot abandon the Countess in their cus­tody—"

"A pox upon your Countess! Some decadent aristo­crat from the benighted feudal regime of Carinthia—"

Thorolf interrupted: "With all due respect, you know not whereof you speak. You've never seen her. If there be aught Yvette is not, it's decadent."

The consul's white-browed eyes narrowed. "So ve­hement, stripling? Art in love with the dame?"

"Of course not! After but one day and night—"

"Night, eh? I know these high-born jades. Didst have a good time?"

"Father, you are impossible! I have not bedded her—"

"Well, then, do ye court her honorably? Titled wenches make chancy wives, being full of hoity-toity snobbery. They fancy themselves beings of a superior species by virtue of blue blood, when 'tis well known that most noble houses were founded by successful ban­ditti who frightened some weakling ruler into granting titles."

"She has some of that," Thorolf conceded. "She thinks in the imperative mood. A pity; she's a fascinat­ing creature. But I will do what my conscience com­mands."

"From what my spies tell me," said the Consul, "she is a combination of the goddess Rianna and a man-eating tigress."

"Not so formidable as all that, Father! She's a small person, but with more energy per pound than I've ever seen."

Zigram mused: "I'm concerned for my line, with mine only son still unwed at nearly thirty. Since high rank in the state be closed to you by our nepotism law, at least whilst I remain in office, ye were better-advised to court the daughter of some banker or rich mer­chant."

"And you," said Thorolf, "were better-advised to eat less and exercise more, if you'd fain live through that second term of office you seek." He rose. "Come over to the barracks, and I'll work fifty pounds of that fat off."

"Speak not rudely to thy sire, boy!"

"Nor you to me. But come, walk with me to the barracks. It will do you good, and we shall be where none can overhear."

"Oh, very well." With a groan, Zigram heaved him­self out of his chair and shrugged a black cloak over his crimson doublet.

In the street, Thorolf gave his father a sharp look. "Tell me, Father, what hold have the Sophonomists on you? For some I'm sure they have, to make a brave man quail at their mere mention."

"Nay, son; meddle not. 'Twill do you no good."

"Father, I insist! Have they discovered something to your discredit in your past?"

"Nay, nay; 'tis—a small matter of no import."

"If it were so little, you'd not flinch at its mere men­tion. Out with it! If it affects mine own future, I should be forewarned. Am I your son or not?" Thorolf used the tone of a professor to a refractory pupil.

"Oh, very well." said Zigram dejectedly. "They dis­covered that, years ago whilst your dear mother was yet young, I had taken up with another woman, over in Uberunnen. I had in fact committed bigamy. If the tale were spread abroad, away would go my chances for a second term."

"Ha!" said Thorolf. "And what of this other wench? Meanst that I have a stepmother across the mountains?"

"Nay. She got a quiet annulment and hath since rewed. I've not set eyes upon her for years. But you comprehend the potential scandal. By Kernun's antlers, breathe not a word of this!"

"Never fear. How did they find out? Filching docu­ments?"

"I know not; but I am sure they have done the like with certain senators. Thus grows their power."

"What is this lady's name? I ought to know in case I should encounter her."

"Nay, that I will not tell. Let the dead past ..."

They argued, but Zigram was adamant. At last Tho­rolf said: "My Countess brought her coronet with her. Who were the safest banker to leave it with?"

"Waddo Sifson were as good as any."

"Thanks. Here are the barracks. Come over some time and, if you won't take exercises, at least watch me at mine. Good day, sire!"