by Jack Vance
"How can we stop her?" asked Glyneth in a shaking voice.
"I want to do more than stop her!" spat Didas. "I want to destroy her!"
"So do I—but how?"
"Come with me; quick now!"
Didas and Glyneth ran out to the pig-sty. A young pig lay on a sheet. "I've washed it and drugged it," said Didas. "Help me carry it upstairs."
Once in Glyneth's room they dressed the pig in a nightgown and a mob-cap, and lay it in the bed, face to the wall.
"Quick now!" whispered Didas. "She'll be on her way. Into the closet!"
They had barely shut themselves in when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Dame Melissa, wearing a pink gown and carrying a red candle in each hand, entered the room.
Above the bed a pair of censers hung from hooks; Melissa touched fire to them and, smouldering, they gave off an acrid smoke.
Melissa lay down on the bed beside the pig. She placed a black bar across her neck and the neck of the pig, then spoke an incantation:
I into thee!
Thou into me!
Straitly and swiftly, let the change be!
Bezadiah!
There was a sudden startled squealing as the pig discovered itself in the undrugged body of Melissa. Didas sprang from the closet, dragged the pig to the floor, and pushing the erstwhile Melissa to the wall lay beside her. She arranged the black bar from across her neck to that of Melissa. She inhaled the smoke from the censers and uttered the incantation:
I into thee!
Thou into me!
Straitly and swiftly, let the change be!
Bezadiah!
At once the pig's frightened squealing came from the body of the crone Didas. Melissa arose from the bed and spoke to Glyneth: "Be calm, child. All is done. I am once more in my own body. I have been cheated of my youth and all my young years, and who can make restitution? But help me now. First we'll take the old Didas down to the sty, where at least it will feel secure. It is a sick old body and soon will die."
"Poor pig," muttered Glyneth.
They led the creature once known as Didas down to the sty and tied her to a post. Then, returning to the bedroom, they carried out the body of the pig which was beginning to stir. Melissa tied it securely to a tree beside the cottage then drenched it with a pan of cold water.
At once the pig regained consciousness. It tried to speak, but its tongue and oral cavity made the sounds incomprehensible. It began to wail, in terror and grief.
"So there you are, witch," said the new Dame Melissa. "I don't know how I look to you through a pig's eyes, or how much you can hear through a pig's ear, but your witching days are at an end."
Next morning Glyneth awoke Dhrun with a report of the previous night's events. Dhrun felt somewhat aggrieved because of his exclusion from the affair, but held his tongue.
The legitimate Dame Melissa prepared a breakfast of fried perch fresh from the river. While Dhrun and Glyneth ate, the butcher's apprentice came to the door. "Dame Melissa, you have stock to sell?"
"True, quite true! A fine yearling sow, for which I have no need. You'll find her tied to a tree at the back. Ignore the strange sounds it makes. I'll settle accounts with your master on my next visit into town."
"Exactly so, Dame Melissa. I noticed the animal as I arrived and it seems in prime condition. With your permission, I'll be away and about my duties." The butcher's boy departed and presently could be seen through the window, leading the squealing pig down the road.
Almost immediately after, Glyneth said politely: "I think that we also had better be on our way, as we have far to go today."
"You must do as you think best," said Dame Melissa. "There is much work to be done, otherwise I would urge you to visit with me somewhat longer. One moment." She left the room and presently returned with a gold piece for Dhru'n and another for Glyneth. "Please do not thank me; I am overcome with joy to know once more my own body, which has been so misused."
For fear of disturbing the magic force resident in the old purse, they tucked the gold coins into the waistband of Dhrun's trousers, then, bidding Dame Melissa farewell they set off along the road.
"Now that we're safely out of the forest, we can start to make plans," said Glyneth. "First, we'll find a wise man, who'll direct us to one even wiser, who'll take us to the First Sage of the Kingdom, and he will chase the bees from your eyes. And then..."
"And then what?"
"We shall learn what we can of princes and princesses, and which might have a son named Dhrun."
"If I can survive seven years bad luck, that will be enough."
"Well then, one thing at a time. March now! Forward, step, step, step! Ahead is the village and if we can believe the signpost, its name is Wookin."
On a bench before the village inn an old man sat whittling long yellow-white curls from a length of green alder.
Glyneth approached him somewhat diffidently. "Sir, who is considered the wisest man in Wookin?"
The old man ruminated for the space required to shave two exquisitely curled shavings of alder-wood. "I will vouchsafe an honest response. Mind you now, Wookin appears placid and easy, but the Forest of Tantrevalles looms nearby. A dire witch lives a mile up the road and casts her shadow across Wookin. The next village along the way is Lumarth, at a distance of six miles. Each of these miles is dedicated to the memory of the robber who only a week ago made that mile his own, under the leadership of Janton Throatcut. Last week the six gathered to celebrate Janton's name day, and they were captured by Numinante the Thief-taker. At Three-mile Crossroad you will still discover our famous and most curious landmark, old Six-at-a-Gulp. Directly north, barely outside the village, stands a set of dolmens, arranged to form the In-and-Out Maze, whose origin is unknown. In Wookin reside a vampire, a poison-eater, and a woman who converses with snakes. Wookin must be the most diverse village of Dahaut. I have survived here eighty years. Do I then need to do more than declare myself the wisest man of Wookin?"
"Sir, you would seem to be the man we seek. This boy is Prince Dhrun. Fairies sent golden bees to buzz circles in his eyes, and he is blind. Tell us who might cure him, or failing that, whom we might ask?"
"I can recommend no one near at hand. This is fairy magic and must be lifted by a fairy spell. Seek out Rhodion, king of all fairies, who wears a green hat with a red feather. Take his hat and he must do your bidding."
"How can we find King Rhodion? Truly, it is most important."
"Even the wisest man of Wookin cannot rive that riddle. He often visits the great fairs where he buys ribands and teazles and other such kickshaws. I saw him once at Tinkwood Fair, a merry old gentleman riding a goat."
Glyneth asked: "Does he always ride a goat?"
"Seldom."
"Then how does one know him? At fairs one finds merry gentlemen by the hundreds."
The old man shaved a curl from his alder switch. "There, admittedly, is the weak link in the plan," he said. "Perhaps you might better be served by a sorcerer. There is Tamurello at Faroli and Quatz by Lullwater. Tamurello will demand a toilsome service, which might require a visit to the ends of the earth: once more a flaw in the scheme. As for Quatz, he is dead. If you could by some means offer to resuscitate him, I daresay he would commit himself to almost anything."
"Perhaps so," said Glyneth in a subdued voice. "But how—"
"Tut tut! You have noticed the flaw. Still, it well may yield to clever planning. So say I, the wisest man of Wookin."
From the inn came a stern-faced matron. "Come, grandfather! It is time for your nap. Then you may sit up tonight for an hour or two, because the moon rises late."
"Good, good! We are old enemies, the moon and I," he explained to Glyneth. "The wicked moon sends rays of ice to freeze my marrow, and I take pains to avoid them. On yonder hill I plan a great moon-trap, and when the moon comes walking and spying and peeping for to find my window, I'll pull the latch and then there'll be no more of my milk curdled on moony nights!"
"And high time t
oo, eh, grandfather? Well, bid your friends goodby and come along to your nice neat's foot soup."
In silence Dhrun and Glyneth trudged away from Wookin. At last Dhrun spoke: "Much of what he said made remarkably good sense."
"So it seemed to me," said Glyneth.
Just beyond Wookin, the Murmeil River swung to the south, and the road went through a land partly wooded, partly tilled to barley, oats and cattle fodder. At intervals placid farmsteads drowsed in the shade of oaks and elms, all built of the local gray trap and thatched with straw.
Dhrun and Glyneth walked a mile, then another, meeting in all three wayfarers: a boy leading a team of horses; a drover with a herd of goats and a wandering tinker. Upon the fresh country air crept a taint, which grew stronger: first in breaths and whiffs, then in sudden and violent power, so heavy and rich that Glyneth and Dhrun stopped short in the road.
Glyneth took Dhrun's hand. "Come, we'll move quickly and so be past the sooner."
The two trotted along the road, holding their breaths against the stench. A hundred yards further they came to a crossroad, with a gallows to the side. A signboard, pointing east-west, north-south read:
BLANDWALLOW: 3 TUMBY: 2 WOOKIN: 3 LUMARTH: 3
From the gallows, gaunt across the sky, dangled six dead men.
Glyneth and Dhrun hurried past, to stop short once more. On a low stump sat a tall thin man with a long thin face. He wore somber garments but went hatless; his hair, dead black and straight, clung to his narrow scalp.
Glyneth thought both the circumstances and the man somewhat sinister and would have passed along the road with no more than a polite greeting, but the man lifted a long arm to stay them.
"Please, my dears, what is the news from Wookin? My vigil is now three days old and these gentlemen died with uncommonly stiff necks."
"We heard no news, sir, save that regarding the death of six bandits, which you must know."
"Why are you waiting?" asked Dhrun, with disarming simplicity.
"Ha hwee!" The thin man contrived a thin high-pitched chuckle. "A theory propounded by the savants asserts that every niche in the social structure, no matter how constricted, finds someone to fill it. I admit to a specialized occupation, which in fact has not so much as acquired a name. Not to put too keen an edge on it, I wait under gallows until the corpse drops, whereupon I assume possession of the clothes and valuables. I find little competition in the field; the work is dull, and I will never become wealthy, but at least it is honest, and I have time to daydream."
"Interesting," said Glyneth. "Good-day, sir."
"One moment." He appraised the still shapes above him. "I thought to have number two today for sure." He took up an implement which leaned against the gallows: a long pole with a forked end. He pressed the rope immediately above the knot and gave a vigorous shake. The cadaver hung as before. "My name, should you choose to know it, is Nahabod, and sometimes I am known as Nab the Narrow."
"Thank you, sir. And now if you don't mind, we'll be going."
"Wait! I have an observation to make which you may find interesting. Yonder, number two in order, hangs old Tonker the carpenter, who drove two nails into his mother's head: stiff-necked to the end. Notice"—he pointed with his pole, and his voice became somewhat didactic—"the purple bruise. This is usual and ordinary for the first four days. Then a crimson flush sets in, followed by this chalky pallor, and which indicates that the object is about to descend. By these signals I judged Tonker ripe. Well, enough for today. Tonker will fall tomorrow and after him Pilbane the Dancer, who robbed along the highway for thirteen years, and would have been robbing today had not Numinante the Thief-taker discovered him asleep and Pilbane danced one last jig. Next is Kam the farmer. A leper walked in front of his six fine milch-cows, at this very crossroads, and all six went dry. Since it is unlawful to shed a leper's blood, Kam drenched him with oil and set him ablaze. It is said the leper bounded from here to Lumarth using only fourteen strides. Numinante read the law over-rigorously and now Kam dangles in mid-air. Number six on the end, is Bosco, a chef of good repute. For many years he suffered the foibles of old Lord Tremoy. One day, in a spirit of mischief, he urinated into his lordship's soup. Alas! the deed was witnessed by three pot-boys and the pastry chef. Alas! there hangs Bosco!"
Glyneth, interested in spite of herself, asked: "And the next?"
Nab the Narrow rapped the dangling feet with his pole. "This is Pirriclaw, a robber with an extraordinary set of perceptions. He could stare at a likely prospect—like this"—here Nab shot his head forward and fixed his eyes upon Dhrun—"and like this!" He turned the same penetrating glance upon Glyneth. "In that instant he was able to divine the place where his prospect carried his or her valuables, and a useful sleight it was!" Nab gave his head a shake of regretful nostalgia for the passing of so marvelous a talent.
Dhrun's hand crept to his neck, to ensure the safety of his amulet; almost without thinking Glyneth touched her bodice where she had hidden the magic purse.
Nab the Narrow, still contemplating the cadaver, seemed not to notice. "Poor Pirriclaw! Numinante took him in his prime, and now I wait for his garments—with anticipation, I may add. Pirriclaw dressed in only the best and demanded triple-stitching. He is of my general proportion, and perhaps I will wear the garments myself!"
"And what of the last corpse?"
"Him? He amounts to little. Cloth buskins, clothes thrice mended and lacking all style. This gallows is known as Six-at-a-Gulp. Both law and custom forbid the hanging of five or four or three or two or one from the ancient beam. A fleering ne'er-do-well named Yoder Gray Ears stole eggs from under Widow Hod's black hen, and Numinante decided to make an example of him, and also make a sixth for old Six-at-a-Gulp; and for the first time in his life Yoder Gray Ears served a useful purpose. He went to his death, if not a happy man, at least a person whose life has yielded a final fulfillment, and not all of us can make this claim."
Glyneth nodded dubiously. Nab's remarks were becoming a trifle too rhapsodic and she wondered if he might be amusing himself at their expense. She took Dhrun's arm. "Come along; it's still three miles to Lumarth."
"A safe three miles now that Numinante has swept so clean," said Nab the Narrow.
"One last question. Can you direct us to a fair where wise men and magicians gather?"
"Yes indeed. Thirty miles past-Lumarth is the town Hazelwood, where they mark the Druid festivals with a fair. Be there in two weeks for Lugrasad of the Druids!"
Glyneth and Dhrun proceeded along the road. A half-mile they walked, then out from behind a blackberry thicket sprang a tall thin robber. He wore a long black cloak, a black cloth over all his face, save his eyes, and a flat-crowned black hat, with an extremely broad brim. In his left hand he brandished a dagger on high.
"Stand and deliver!" he cried harshly. "Else I slit your throats from ear to ear!"
He advanced on Glyneth, plunged his hand into her bodice and seized the purse from its snug place between her breasts. Next he turned to Dhrun and flourished the dagger. "Your valuables, and with a will!"
"My valuables are no concern of yours."
"But they are! 1 declare that I own the world and all its fruits. Whoever without leave uses my goods incurs my most furious wrath; is this not justice?"
Dhrun, bewildered, had no response; meanwhile the robber deftly lifted the amulet from his neck. "Pshaw! What is this? Well, we'll sort it out later. Go your ways now, in humility and be more careful in the future!"
Glyneth, grimly silent, and Dhrun, sobbing with rage, continued along the road. Behind them came a fleeing laugh. "Ha hwee!" Then the robber disappeared into the underbrush.
An hour later Glyneth and Dhrun arrived at the village Lumarth. They went at once to the inn marked by the sign of the Blue Goose, where Glyneth asked where she might find Numinante the Thief-taker.
"By the whims of Fortunatus, you'll find Numinante himself in the common-room, drinking ale from a pot the size of his head."
"Thank you, sir." Glyneth entered the common-room.with caution. At other inns she had been subjected to indignities: drunken kisses, over-familiar pats on the haunch, leers and tickles. At the counter sat a man of medium size, with a look of prim sobriety, belied by the stoup from which he drank his ale.
Glyneth approached him confidently; here was no man to take liberties.
"Sir Numinante?"
"Well, lass?"
"I have a criminal act to report."
"Say on; this is my business."
"At the crossroads we met a Nahabod, or Nab the Narrow, who waited for the cadavers to drop that he might take their clothes. We talked a bit, then went our way. Not half a mile along, out from the woods jumped a robber who took all we owned."
Numinante said: "My dear, you were robbed by the great Janton Throatcut himself. Only last week I hanged high his six henchmen. He was in the act of taking their shoes for his collection; he does not care a fig for clothes."
"But he told us of Tonker the carpenter, Bosco the chef, the two robbers Pirriclaw and I forget the other—"
"Possibly so. They ranged the countryside with Janton like a pack of wild dogs. But Janton is leaving these parts and will take his business elsewhere. Someday I will hang him as well, but— we must take these pleasures as they come."
"Can't you send out to search for him?" asked Dhrun. "He took my amulet and our purse of money."
"1 could send out," said Numinante, "but to what prpfit? He has bolt-holes everywhere. All I can do at the moment is feed you at the king's expense. Enric! Feed these children on your best. One of those fat pullets from the spit, a good slice of beef and another of suet pudding, with cider to wash it down." "At once, Sir Numinante."
