by Jack Vance
Carfilhiot, recalling his previous encounter with King Deuel, pulled the wagon up short. He considered a moment, then descended and called Glyneth down to the road.
He instructed her in terms which admitted of neither argument nor flexibility. She lowered the side panel to make a platform, brought out her basket, and with Dhrun playing the pipes, set her cats to dancing.
The ladies and gentlemen in their remarkable finery came to watch; they laughed and clapped their hands, and some of them went to call King Deuel's attention to the novel exercises.
King Deuel presently stepped down from his throne and sauntered across the sward to watch the display. He smiled and nodded, but he was not altogether uncritical. "I see here an ingenious effort, to be sure, and the antics are amusing enough. Ha! Excellent saltation there! That black cat is agile! Still it must be remembered that the feline is a lesser order, when all is said. Dare I ask why we have no dancing birds?"
Carfilhiot spoke up. "Your Majesty, I sequester the dancing birds within the wagon! We deem them too exquisite for the common view!"
Mad King Deuel spoke haughtily: "Do you then characterize my august vision as vulgar and common, or anything other than sublime?"
"Indeed not, your Majesty! You are welcome, and you alone, to inspect the extraordinary spectacle inside the wagon."
King Deuel, mollified, marched to the back of the wagon. "A moment, your Majesty!" Carfilhiot closed the side panel, cats and all, and went to the rear. "Glyneth, inside! Dhrun, inside! Prepare the birds for his Majesty. Now, sir, up these steps, and in with you!"
He closed and barred the door, and climbing to the front seat, drove away at a mad gallop. The befeathered ladies looked after in puzzlement; some of the men ran a few steps along the road but were impeded by their black and white plumage, and so, with wings trailing, they returned to the sward before the summer palace, where they tried to fit some pattern of logic upon the occurrence.
Within the wagon King Deuel shouted out orders: "Halt this vehicle at once! I see no birds whatever! This is a most insipid prank!"
Carfilhiot called down through the window: "In due course, your Majesty, I will halt the wagon. Then we shall discuss the plumes and quills that you decreed for my backside!"
King Deuel became silent and for the rest of the day made only fretful clucking sounds.
The day drew toward a close. In the south appeared a line of low gray hills; an outlying arm of Forest Tantrevalles lay dark across the north. Peasant huts became rare and the land tended toward the wild and melancholy.
At sunset Carfilhiot drove the wagon across a meadow to a copse of elms and beeches.
As before Carfilhiot unharnessed the horses and put them to graze on a long tether, while Glyneth cooked the supper. King Deuel refused to leave the wagon, and Dhrun, still feigning blindness, sat on a fallen log.
Glyneth brought soup to King Deuel and served him bread and cheese as well; then she went to sit by Dhrun. They spoke in low voices.
Dhrun said: "He pretends not to watch you, but everywhere you go his eyes follow."
"Dhrun, don't become reckless. He can kill us, but that is the worst he can do."
Dhrun said through clenched teeth: "I won't allow him to touch you. I will die first."
Glyneth whispered: "I've thought of something, so don't worry. Remember, you are still blind!"
Carfilhiot rose to his feet. "Dhrun, into the wagon with you."
Dhrun said sullenly: "I intend to stay with Glyneth."
Carfilhiot seized him, carried him kicking and fighting to the wagon and thrust him inside and barred the door. He turned toward Glyneth. "Tonight there are no trees to climb."
Glyneth backed away. Carfilhiot came after her. Glyneth sauntered to the horses. "Friends," she said, "here is the creature who drives you so hard, and whips your naked backsides."
"Yes, so I see."
"I see with both heads at once."
Carfilhiot cocked his head to the side, and approached slowly. "Glyneth! Look at me!"
"I see you well enough," said Glyneth. "Go away, or the horses will trample you."
Carfilhiot halted and looked at the horses, their white eyes and stiff manes. Opening their mouths they showed long forked fangs. One of them suddenly rose on his hind legs and struck down at Carfilhiot with the talons of its front feet.
Carfilhiot retreated to where he could climb upon the wagon if necessary, and stood glowering. The horses lowered their manes, sheathed their talons, and once more began to graze.
Glyneth strolled back to the wagon. Carfilhiot jerked forward. Glyneth stopped still. The horses raised their heads and looked toward Carfilhiot. Their manes began to rise. Carfilhiot made an angry gesture and climbed to the seat of the wagon.
Glyneth opened the back door. She and Dhrun made a bed under the wagon and rested undisturbed.
On a morning dreary with spatters of rain, the wagon passed from Pomperol into west Dahaut and entered the Forest of Tantrevalles. Carfilhiot, hunched on the front seat, drove at reckless speed, wielding his whip with abandon, and the black horses ran foaming through the forest. At noon Carfilhiot turned off the road to follow a dim lane which climbed the slopes of a rocky hill, to arrive at Faroli, the octagonal multi-leveled manse of Tamurello the Sorcerer.
By three sets of invisible hands Carfilhiot had been bathed and groomed, lathered head to toe with sweet sap of dimity. He had been scraped with a white boxwood paddle and rinsed in warm water scented with lavender, so that his fatigue had become no more than a delightful languor. He dressed in a shirt of black and crimson and a robe of dark gold. An invisible hand tendered him a goblet of pomegranate wine, which he drank, then stretched his beautiful easy limbs like a lazy animal. For a few moments he stood in reflection, wondering how best to have his way with Tamurello. Much depended upon Tamurello's mood, whether it were active or passive. Carfilhiot must control these moods as a musician controls his music. Finally he left the chamber and joined Tamurello in the center saloon, where on all sides tall panes of glass overlooked the forest.
Tamurello seldom showed himself in his natural similitude, preferring always a guise from among the dozens at his command. Carfilhiot had seen him in a variety of phases, more or less beguiling, but all memorable. Tonight he was an elderkin of the falloys, in a sea-green robe and a crown of silver cusps. He used white hair and silver-pale skin, with green eyes. Carfilhiot had seen this semblance before and had no great love for its extremely subtle perceptions and the delicate precision of its demands. As always, when confronted with the falloy elderkin, Carfilhiot adopted a manner of taciturn strength.
The elderkin inquired as to his comfort. "You are refreshed, I hope?"
"I have known several days of hardship, but I am once more comfortable."
The elderkin turned a smiling glance out the window. "This misfortune of yours—how curious and unexpected!"
Carfilhiot replied in a neutral voice: "For the whole of my inconvenience I blame Melancthe."
The elderkin smiled once more. "And all without provocation?"
"Naturally not! When have I, or you, concerned ourselves with provocation?"
"Seldom. But what will be the consequences?"
"None, or so I hope."
"You are not definite in your own mind?"
"I must give the matter thought."
"True. In such cases one must be judicious."
"There are other considerations to be weighed. I have had shocks and rude surprises. You will recall the affair at Trilda?"
"Well enough."
"Shimrod traced Rughalt through his disgusting knees. Rughalt instantly disclosed my name. Shimrod now thinks to avenge himself upon me. But I hold hostages against him."
The elderkin sighed and made a fluttering gesture. "Hostages are of limited utility. If they die they are a nuisance. Who are these hostages?"
"A boy and a girl who traveled in Shimrod's company. The boy plays remarkable music on the pipes and the girl talks to a
nimals."
Tamurello rose to his feet. "Come."
The two went to Tamurello's workshop. Tamurello took a black box from the shelf, poured inside a gill of water, added drops of a glowing yellow liquid which caused the water to show films of light at various levels. In a leather-bound libram Tamurello located the name "Shimrod." Using the appended formula he prepared a dark liquid which he added to the contents of the box, then poured the mixture into an iron cylinder six inches tall and two inches in diameter. He sealed the top with a glass cap, then held the cylinder to his eye. After a moment he gave the cylinder to Carfilhiot. "What do you see?"
Looking through the glass, Carfilhiot observed four men riding at a gallop through the forest. One of the men was Shimrod. He recognized none of the others: warriors, or knights, so he judged.
He returned the cylinder to Tamurello. "Shimrod rides pellmell through the forest with three companions."
Tamurello concurred. "They will arrive within the hour."
"And then?"
"Shimrod hopes to find you here in my company, which will afford him cause to call on Murgen. I am not yet ready for a confrontation with Murgen; hence you must inevitably be judged and suffer the adjudication."
"So I must go."
"And quickly."
Carfilhiot strode back and forth across the chamber. "Very well, if that is the way of it. I hope that you will give us transport."
Tamurello raised his eyebrows. "You intend to retain these persons to whom Shimrod is attached?"
"What reason is there to do otherwise? They are valuable hostages. I will trade them for the locks on Shimrod's magic, and his retirement from the case. You may cite these terms to him, if you will."
Tamurello grudgingly agreed. "What I must do, I will do.
Come!"
The two went out to the wagon. "There is another matter," said Tamurello. "One which Shimrod pressed upon me before your arrival, and which I cannot deny him. In the strongest terms I advise and in fact make demands upon you: do not injure, abase, abuse, torment, mistreat, harass, or make physical contact with your hostages. Cause them no travail, mental or physical. Do not allow them to be mistreated by others. Do not neglect them to their detriment or discomfort. Do not facilitate nor suggest, nor by any act of omission, allow them to suffer misfortune or hurt or molestation, accidental or otherwise. Ensure their comfort and health. Provide—"
"Enough, enough!" croaked Carfilhiot in anger. "I understand the gist of your remarks. I must treat the two children like honored guests."
"Exactly so. 1 do not choose to answer for harms done by you, from frivolity, lust, mischief, or spite; and Shimrod has made these demands upon me!"
Carfilhiot controlled the tumult of his feelings. He spoke in a terse voice. "I understand your instructions and they shall be implemented."
Tamurello circled the wagon. He rubbed the wheels and the rims with a blue jade talisman. He went to the horses, lifted their legs and wiped their feet with the stone. They stood trembling and rigid to his touch, but, recognizing his power, pretended not to see him.
Tamurello wiped the horses' heads, flanks, haunches and bellies with the stone, then rubbed the sides of the wagon. "Now! You are ready! Be off with you and away! Shimrod approaches fast. Fly low, fly high, but fly to Tintzin Fyral!"
Carfilhiot jumped to the driver's seat, took up the reins. He raised his hand to Tamurello, snapped the whip. The horses lunged forward into the air. Westward over the forest careened " the wagon of Dr. Fidelius, high above the highest tree tops, and folk of the forest looked up in awe at the two-headed horses plunging across the sky, with the tall wagon trundling behind.
Half an hour later four horsemen arrived at Faroli. They dismounted from their horses, to stand swaying, limp with fatigue and frustration, for already, through Never-Tail, they knew that Shimrod's wagon had gone.
A chamberlain came from the manse. "Your wishes, noble sirs?"
"Announce us to Tamurello," said Shimrod.
"Your names, sir?"
"He expects us."
The chamberlain withdrew.
At one of the windows Shimrod glimpsed a moving shadow. "He watches us and listens," Shimrod told the others. "He decides which guise he will show us."
"The life of a wizard is a strange one," said Cargus.
Yane asked in wonder: "Is he ashamed of his own face?"
"Few have seen it. He has heard enough; now he comes."
Slowly, step by step, a tall man approached from the shadows. He wore a suit of silver chain, the mesh so fine as to be near-invisible, a jupon of sea-green silk, a helmet surmounted by three tall prongs, like the spines of a fish. From the brow hung a row of silver chains concealing the face below. At a distance of ten feet he halted and folded his arms. "I am Tamurello."
"You know why we are here. Call back Carfilhiot, with the two children he has kidnapped."
"Carfilhiot has come and gone."
"Then you are his accomplice and share his guilt."
From behind the chains came a low laugh. "I am Tamurello. For my deeds I accept neither praise nor blame. In any case, your quarrel is with Carhfilhiot, not with me."
"Tamurello, I have no patience for empty words. You know what I require of you. Bring Carfilhiot back, with my wagon and the two children he holds captive."
Tamurello's response came in a deeper, more resonant voice. "Only the strong should threaten."
"Empty words again. Once more: Order Carfilhiot to return."
"Impossible."
"You have expedited his escape from me; you thereby take responsibility for Glyneth and Dhrun."
Tamurello stood silent, arms folded. The four men felt his slow inspection from behind the silver chains. Finally he said. "You have delivered your message. You need not delay your going."
The four men mounted their horses and departed. At the edge of the glade they paused to look back. Tamurello had returned into the manse.
In a hollow voice Shimrod said: "So there we have it. Now we must deal with Carfilhiot at Tintzin Fyral. Temporarily at least, Glyneth and Dhrun are safe from physical harm."
Aillas asked, "What of Murgen? Will he intercede?"
"It is not so easy as you might think. Murgen constrains magicians to their own affairs, and so himself is constrained."
"I can wait no longer," said Aillas. "I am obliged to return to Troicinet. Already I may be too late, if King Ospero is dead."
Chapter 28
FROM FAROLI BACK TO ICNIELD WAY rode the four men, then south through Pomperol, and across the breadth of Lyonesse to Slute Skeme on the Lir.
At the harbor the fishermen were chary of so much as discussing passage to Troicinet. The master of the Sweet Lupus told them, "A Troice warship patrols sometimes close along the shore, sometimes out by the horizon, and sinks any hull it can catch. It is a fast ship. To make the cheese more binding, Casmir keeps spies by the dozens. Were I to make the passage, news would reach Casmir and I'd be taken as a Troice agent, and who knows what might happen? What with the old king dying, we can expect change: for the better, or so I hope."
"Then he's not dead yet?"
"The news is a week old; who can say? Meanwhile I must sail with one eye for the weather, one eye for the Troice and one eye for the fish, but never more than a mile offshore. I'd need a fortune of money to tempt me to Troicinet."
Shimrod's ear had picked up a hint that the fisherman's resolve was flexible. "How long is the crossing?"
"Oh, if one left by night, to avoid spies and patrols, he'd arrive the next night. It's a good reaching wind and the currents are mild."
"And what is your price?"
"Ten gold crowns might tempt me."
"Nine gold crowns and our four horses."
"Done. When will you leave?"
"Now."
"Too risky. And I must prepare the boat. Come back at sunset. Leave your horses at the stable yonder."
Without noteworthy incident the Sweet Lupus made a brisk cr
ossing of the Lir and put into Shircliff, halfway along the Troice coast, two hours before midnight, with lights still showing in the dockside taverns.
The master of the Sweet Lupus tied up to the pier with a notable lack of apprehension. Cargus asked: "What of the Troice authorities? Won't they seize your boat?"
"Aha! That is a tempest in a teapot. Why should we inconvenience each other over foolishness? We stay on good terms and do favors for each other and affairs proceed as always."
"Well then, good luck to you!"
The four applied to the ostlery for horses and woke the ostler from his bed on the straw. At first he was inclined to peevishness. "Why not wait for morning like sensible men? Why this bustling about at all hours and denying honest men their sleep?" Cargus growled even more peevishly: "Hold your complaints, and provide us four sound horses!" "If I must I must. Whither go you?"
"To Domreis, at best speed."
"For the coronation? You are starting late for a ceremony which begins at noon!"
"King Ospero is dead?"
The ostler made a reverent sign. "To our sorrow, for he was a good king, free of cruelty or vain display."
"And the new king?"
"He is to be King Trewan. I wish him prosperity and a long life, since only a churl would do otherwise."
"Hurry with the horses."
"You are already too late. You will founder the horses if you hope to arrive for the coronation."
"Hurry!" cried Aillas in a passion. "Bestir yourself!"
