The Pixilated Peeress

by L. Sprague De Camp

  "Nought like that, my dear," Thorolf interrupted. "Do but sit you quiet for a moment!"

  Bardi changed his eyeglasses, lit another candle, and held it close to Yvette while studying her eyes and looking down her throat. Then he set down the candle.

  "Wilt see me safely home, Thorolf?" he asked. "I am too old and frail to wander the nighted streets alone, with ruffians aprowl. But pray, run not mine old legs off!"

  "Certes," said Thorolf. "I shall soon return, Yvette. Go back to sleep, my dear."

  -

  As he and the ancient mage traversed the darkened streets, Thorolf said: "Well, Doctor, what thinkst?"

  "Meseems a plain case of delta possession."

  "Can this spirit be exorcised?"

  "Not by me, and mayhap not even by Orlandus, who placed it there. Betimes the deltas come to enjoy residing in a mortal frame and refuse to vacate, like mundane tenants who fall behind with their rent. Perchance Magus Myrdhin in Kymri or Archmage Valentius in Aemilia could force the interloper out."

  "Is it not illegal so to possess another?"

  "Aye, aye; it's one of the worst forms of magical malpractice. But ye know as well as I that dark deeds are done even in our law-abiding land. It were hard to assemble evidence that would stand the test in court, even could we discover jurymen not so terrified of sorcerers as to refuse to convict.

  "Moreover, our public prosecutors dislike cases involving magic. To forestall employment of spells to subvert justice, the prosecutor must either hire a rival wizard, at public expense, to guard the court by counterspells; or bind and gag the magician, leaving but one of's hands unbound to write his answers."

  "Would Orlandus banish the delta when we have paid all of his bill?" asked Thorolf hopefully.

  "Count not upon it. His diaphanes are the primary tools wherewith he hopes to further his ambitions; so why should he yield up one?"

  "We ought to have been more careful in making an agreement with him."

  "No doubt; but we were under emergent pressure and could not afford lengthy negotiations. Besides, paper promises are still paper promises, which the promiser may break unless the promisee have some exigent hold upon him."

  "Such, say, as a hostage?"

  "Aye." Bardi fingered his straggly beard. "As things do stand, the only sure release of these deltas back to their native plane is the death of him who installed them. Then, soon or late, they quit the bodies thus possessed and retreat to their proper sphere. I ween they wax homesick."

  Thorolf frowned. "To slay the Psychomage were a large order, to say nought of the law I've sworn to uphold."

  "Oh, my dear Sergeant, think not of such a foray! Orlandus will anticipate your assault and, though he be not a wizard to the highest class, will ready a lethal defense."

  "Then how to rescue the lady? Could I not seek magical aid of mine own?"

  Bardi spread his hands helplessly. "I were as useless against him as a fly whisk against a dragon."

  "Who, then?"

  "Dear me! I know not who might better serve your turn. Sordamor would charge an emperor's ransom; Gant hath been effective but is now enslaved by his drug; Avain is a treacherous rascal."

  "That smiling little man?"

  "Yea verily. As the playwright Helmanax wrote, a man can smile and smile and still be a scoundrel."

  Thorolf pondered, his worried thoughts flitting back to the Green Dragon. As they reached the wizard's house, he asked: "Doctor, may I catch a night's sleep here, instead of returning to the inn?"

  "Assuredly. But wherefore, with the Queen of the Fays awaiting you in bed?"

  "That's just the trouble. Were I alone with her again, I might be more than tempted to sign that cursed document. I'm in love with the woman she was, so I trust not my resistance. I refused her once, but 'twas a damned near thing."

  "With your muscle, she could hardly deny you if you employed force."

  "Not my wonted way; and if I did, what then? She said she'd stab any wight who so used her in's sleep. I doubt not that her delta be under orders to do the like."

  "Well, use yonder couch if ye like." Bardi fingered his whiskers. "There's something I did mean to tell you, but I've forgotten what. A moment ..." The wrinkled face cleared. "Ah, yea! I found the book wherein I stowed my notes on the learned Doctor Fausto's volume, Of the Unrigging of Illusions. I bethought me yestereve, and by good hap I've bought a phial of Fausto's formula from the apothecary. Bide ye in yon chair for the nonce."

  As he rummaged, the magician continued: "Know, Thorolf, that spells fall into two classes: illusory and substantive. Illusory spells do but alter the appearance of things, exempli gratia the cheaper spell I offered to put upon the Countess, to make her seem a short, dark, dumpy woman. Such spells are relatively simple.

  "Substantive spells, on t'other hand, cause actual rearrangement of the atoms whereof the thing or person be constructed ..."

  He droned on about the rival theories of the modus operandi of spells. Then, "Ah, here it is!" He pulled out an ancient codex with a cracked and grimy cover of gilded red leather. Presently Bardi presented Thorolf with a pill and a cupful of water. "Wash it down!" he commanded.

  While Thorolf obeyed, Bardi grasped a piece of charcoal and, stooping, marked a small pentacle on the floor. He made a few passes and chanted verses in an unknown tongue. "How feel ye, Sergeant?"

  "I tingle all over," said Thorolf. "A slight headache, as if my skull were pressing on my brain."

  "That is normal; it will pass."

  "I hope this turn me not into some lower form of life!"

  "Never fear! I have taken precautions against such an error."

  "Is there any way to test the spell?"

  "Aye; I'll summon an illusion, and ye shall see how it works."

  Bardi lit four black candles and set them in candlesticks on the floor, where they burned with a sinister greenish light. He went through a magical procedure, with words and gestures, causing smokes of magenta, turquoise, and lemon green to rise from the candles. When at last he clapped his hands, the smokes coalesced into a big, black-maned lion, which twitched its tail and gave a hollow roar. Thorolf started back and reached for his sword.

  "Do but look closely," said Bardi.

  The young man became aware that this lion was transparent; he could see a couple of candleflames through it. He said:

  "I understand now, Doctor. How long might this spell last?"

  Bardi clapped his hands and uttered a word; the lion faded back into smoke. He gathered and snuffed the candles, saying:

  "Belike a month; then it needs renewal. Time was when I had to crush and mix the ingredients of that pill myself, and a tedious business it was. Now I need but call at the shop of Frigered the Apothecary, where I can purchase many magical preparations made up in pills and drops."

  Thorolf said: "When I studied at Genuvia, a professor of natural philosophy said that men were working on simpler forms of spells. Instead of all the complications of pentacles, invocations, gestures, and smokes, the complete spell would be contained in a pill, dispensed by an apothecary. This anti-illusion spell, me-seems, is a step thither."

  "I've heard such rumors," grumbled Bardi, "but I do not believe 'twill ever come to that. If it be ever reduced to ready-made pills and powders, it will be time for me to take down my sign and retire."

  "Why? You could still sell the pills and powders."

  "So can any man with wit to read a formula and keep his stock in order."

  "So he won't mistakenly turn his client into a tentacled sea monster?" said Thorolf with a grin.

  "Nasty, nasty!" Bardi wagged a bony forefinger. "But if all my special skills and knowledge were wasted, I should become a mere file clerk."

  "You could learn the new—"

  "My son, there comes a time when one is just too old and tired to cram new skills into one's aged skull." Bardi rapped his scalp with his knuckles. "At any rate, methinks those Serican tubes whereof I hear will put many of my colleagues out of
business, since one discharge can wreak more woe in the blink of an eye than a wizard can work with a month of spells."

  "What about your fee? Orlandus will have beggared us by the time he's through."

  Bardi waved a hand. "Since he hath forced us into alliance, forget the fee for now. When we be again solvent, it will be time to settle our mutual accounts. Now excuse me; I must to my rest."

  -

  Thorolf left Bardi's house well before dawn. Back at the Green Dragon, whose guests were not yet stirring, he found the room empty. Yvette had taken her beautiful new clothes and her reticule, including the contract offered to Thorolf, and vanished. Vasco had not seen her go.

  Thorolf hastened back to Bardi's house, finding the iatromage at his meager breakfast. The soldier reported Yvette's disappearance.

  "Curse of the green slime!" cried Thorolf. "I should have locked her in, or tied her to the bed, or something to restrain her. Now she'll have returned to the castle."

  Bardi raised bushy gray eyebrows. "It would have accomplished nought. If I know aught of delta possession, she'd have climbed out the window, or screamed for help and asked Master Vasco to release her."

  "Then I should have stayed and taken my chances on being able to refuse that indenture."

  "But had ye remained steadfast in your refusal, she would still have departed."

  "I could have held her by force."

  "Then she'd have cried for help and charged you with kidnapping."

  "I should natheless have thought of something. I am nought but an idiot." He pounded his skull with his knuckles.

  "Take it not so to heart, Thorolf. Ye did your best, which is all any of us can do. Here, share my feeble fare. 'Twill cheer you up."

  "I doubt that, Doctor," gloomed Thorolf. "But thanks anyway."

  -

  Fortified with Bardi's breakfast, Thorolf repaired to the barracks to take up his duties. After the morning's drill, he hied himself up Castle Hill. Over the castle gate, above the portcullis, workmen were installing a banner. This was a long yellow ribbon of yard-wide cloth on which was painted in scarlet letters the legend: SOPHONOMY SAVES THE WORLD!

  Thorolf's heart beat faster, as it always did when he thought he was nearing Yvette. As the gate guards crossed their halberds before him, he said: "Pray inform Yvette, Countess of Grintz, that Sergeant Thorolf would speak with her."

  The guard soon returned, not with Yvette but with the stout, red-haired, red-robed man with whom he had spoken on his second approach to the castle. This one, eyeing Thorolf coldly, said in a voice like a steel blade on a grindstone:

  "What do ye here, sirrah?"

  "I wish to speak to Countess Yvette."

  "Forsooth? Know that she does not wish to speak with you."

  Thorolf felt a flush of anger rising; he fought to keep himself under control. "If you will send her out, or admit me to where she is, she can tell me so in person."

  "That is unnecessary. I have told you all you need know; now depart and cease to trouble us."

  "Pox on you!" shouted Thorolf as his self-control began to slip. "You've put her under some damnable spell, for which you shall answer to me!"

  "Ye have mine answer," snapped the red-haired man. Turning to the guards, he said: "Call out the duty squad!"

  The guard blew a whistle, and more mailed men bustled through the gate, drawing swords as they came. The two on guard lowered their halberds, pointing the spearheads at Thorolf's chest.

  By reflex, Thorolf whipped out his own sword. He was enraged enough to take on the whole duty squad singlehanded, though the rational part of his mind knew that he would be hacked to pieces in a trice. As the guards crowded toward him, he backed warily toward the downward path. If he could get them where they could only come at him one at a time ...

  "What's all this?" said a mellow voice, as Orlandus appeared. "Call off our hounds, good Parthenius. My dear Sergeant Thorolf! So you are fain to renew your pursuit of the Lady Yvette? Even after you rejected our perfectly reasonable offer?"

  "Not reasonable at all. You wish me to become spellbound like the Countess. I demand that you exorcise the spirit possessing her and release her, forthwith!"

  Orlandus chuckled. "My dear fellow! We cannot undertake so drastic a change in our program on your mere say-so. I'll tell you. Come in to drink and dine, and we 11 discuss these matters. I am sure we can reach an amicable arrangement."

  Thorolf snorted. "Me, enter that nest of vipers so you can have your men seize me and work your magic? How stupid do I look?" He had forgotten that, just before, he had demanded admission to the castle. "Send out Yvette!"

  He made a slight motion with his sword. At once the men of the duty squad crowded forward, blades bared.

  Orlandus sighed. "What a pity, to waste such a fine body and keen brain! Do your duty, men, to the foes of our Order!"

  The guardsmen rushed forward, mail jingling. Thorolf, the first flush of whose rage had subsided, knew that, unarmored, he had no more chance against these bravos than the proverbial snowball in the fires of Mount Vasaetno. He ran down the path, easily outdistancing them and bearing with fortitude their shouts and jeers.

  Thorolf walked the Street of Clockmakers furious, not so much with the Sophonomists as with himself, for having lost his temper in a circumstance that called for guile. He seldom let himself go so far, but once or twice a year the pressures built up and his composure ruptured. He should, he told himself, have had better sense than to voice loud demands upon his antagonists when he had no means of enforcing those demands. Thus he had achieved nought but to make himself look foolish.

  Perplexed, he wandered across the city to Bardi's house. When the old wizard had dismissed his last client, Thorolf spent an hour fruitlessly mulling over plans for storming the Sophonomist stronghold, rescuing Yvette, and ridding her of the spell whereby Orlandus controlled her.

  "Tell me something, Doctor," he said. "Meseems that all of Orlandus' folk who wore those yellow robes spake in that toneless voice, as if it proceeded from some contrivance mechanical. Does that mean that they were commanded by deltas—or, I should say, commanded by Orlandus through his deltas?"

  "Aye, so I believe."

  "And when he speaks of transforming selected followers into 'diaphanes,' he means merely those he has brought under deltaic possession?"

  Bardi scratched his straggly beard. "Now that ye frame the thought, methinks ye be right."

  "But the guards at the castle behave not thus, but as common mercenaries do everywhere."

  "Let me think ... Ah! Belike I have it. Orlandus requires fighting men, dextrous in their deathly trade, however stupid in other respects. A delta lacks the practice and training to make its host a skillful man of his hands. For the same reason, whilst it can compel its human host to speak the words Orlandus hath commanded, it cannot imitate the tones of natural speech closely enough to deceive one who knows what to listen for."

  Thorolf mused: "I follow your reasoning, Doctor. Now let's suppose that Orlandus gain control of the Rhaetian government, as he seems on the way to doing. He could little by little convert our soldiers to diaphanes, drilling and exercising each wight so possessed until the delta become as skillful with arms as its soldier host had erstwhile been."

  "An ominous possibility, Thorolf."

  "Aye, with more to come. What befalls a delta when its host dies?"

  "I suppose it return to its own plane."

  "Well, methinks I know enough of the art of war to realize that, be he never so brave, skilled, and zealous, the time comes when a soldier thinks: All is lost. If I remain, I shall be slain along with my comrades, to no good purpose. Then he begins to look about for escape. Orlandus' diaphanes, howsomever, will march fearlessly to their deaths, which mean nought to the deltas controlling them. This gives the cultmonger an advantage over any foes. Why, I can envisage his conquest of all the neighboring kingdoms and republics, even of the Empire. He must be stopped before his power waxes further!"

&nbs
p; "Aye," said Bardi. "Alas that I am too old and feeble to face him! Ye must find sturdier allies for the deed."

  Thorolf mused: "Doctor, are all of Orlandus' servants, save his soldiery, thus enslaved?"

  "Methinks not; only those in yellow. Those holding positions of puissance in his conspiracy remain normal; one tells them by their crimson robes. Those in gray, the largest group, are the probationers. He sucks them dry of their wealth and extorts from them menial labor gratis. When their money is gone for his alleged 'courses,' he imposes deltas upon them and calls them diaphanes. Right clever, eh?"

  "Would it not imperil Orlandus if some of the red robes, being less surely under his control, conspired to oust him and seize all power and pelf for themselves?"