Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc

by Jack Vance

  Slowly Visbhume turned upon Glyneth, his eyes yellow.

  Glyneth shrank back. Visbhume spoke in a voice glottal with passion; “Now I must pronounce justice! By your deed I am trapped here on Tanjecterly, to bide a long and uncertain time! The blame is yours and so shall be the punishment! Prepare yourself for events both bitter and sweet, and of long duration!”

  With face contorted he lurched forward. Glyneth dodged aside, but Visbhume held his arms wide with thin fingers outspread. Glyneth threw a despairing glance over her shoulder, but discovered only a field of corpses. In that case, she would throw herself in the river… . Above Visbhume loomed a shadow. Kul, with blood streaming from a dozen wounds, seized Visbhume by the neck, lifted him high and threw him the ground, where Visbhume lay whimpering and writhing. Kul stepped forward with his sword, but Glyneth cried out:

  “No! We need to learn from him!”

  Kul slumped to sit upon the steps of the hut. Glyneth went him. “You are wounded; you drip blood! I have no way to care for you!”

  Kul gave his head a dreary shake. “Do not concern yourself.”

  Gllyneth spoke to Visbhume. “What medicines and balms are in this wallet?”

  “None!”

  Glyneth looked at him closely. “How did you cure wounds where I stabbed you?”

  Visbhume said thinly: “I carry only stuffs for my personal use! Give me now my wallet, as I will need it.”

  “Visbhume: how did you heal your cheek?”

  “No matter!” said Visbhume angrily. “That is my privage affair.”

  With an effort Glyneth took up Kul’s sword. “Visbhume tell me now, or I will cut off your hand and watch to see how you deal with your hurt!” She raised the sword in the air. Visbhume looking up startled into the pale clenched face, reached into the pocket sewn to the inner side of his sleeve. He brought out first his silver pipe, then his fiddle and bow, in magically diminished form, then the two pieces of the broken stiletto, then a round white box, which he gave disdainfully to Glyneth “Rub this wax into the wound. Do not waste it; it is valuable.”

  Glyneth warily put down the sword, and rubbed the wax upon Kul’s cuts, slashes, bruises and stab-wounds, despite Visbhume’s protests against her lavish employment of his personal commodities. With wonder Glyneth saw the cuts seal and the flesh become whole, to the magic of the balm. Kul sighed; Glyneth, working as gently as she could, spoke in alarm: “Why do you sigh? Do I hurt you?”

  “No… . Odd ideas enter my mind… . Scenes of places I have never known.”

  Visbhume rose to his feet and arranged the set of garments. He spoke with frigid dignity: “I will now take wallet and mount my carpet wole and be away from this unhappy site! You have done me incalculable harms, hurt my body and restrained my rightful exit from Tanjecterly. Still, in the circumstances, I will control my bitterness and make the best of affairs. Glyneth, my wallet, on this instant. Then, on my running carpet wole I will take my leave of you.”

  Kul said shortly: “Sit down on the ground; if you run I am too tired to chase you. Glyneth, go to the carcasses yonder and find some straps and cords from their harness.”

  Visbhume cried out in a brassy voice: “What now? Have you not dealt me trouble enough?”

  Kul grinned. “Not nearly enough.”

  Glyneth brought straps, from which Kul fashioned a collor for Visbhume’s neck with a leash twenty feet long. Meanwhile Glyneth gingerly explored Visbhume’s garments for secret pockets and removed all his magical adjuncts, which she tucked into the wallet. Visbhume at last stifled his protests and sat crouched in surly silence. The eight-legged wole on which he had arrived had strayed no great distance and placidy cropped the sward with its feeding tubes. Kul climbed to its long flat back and threw down a pair of anchors to prevent it from coursing away.

  Glyneth addressed Visbhume: “Now: will you answer questions and tell us all we should know?”

  “Ask away,” snapped Visbhume. “I must now serve you or risk damage to my poor body, where I already feel the pain of purple bruises. A person of my status is much demeaned.”

  “If we are hungry, what shall we eat?”

  Visbhume considered a moment, then licked his lips. “Since I too hunger, I will tell you how to find bounty. In the wallet you will find a box. Take therefrom a scrap of cloth, and spread it smooth. Let fall upon it a drop of wine, a crumb of bread and a sliver of cheese.”

  Glyneth followed instructions and the trifle of cloth instantly expanded to became a fine damask cover laden with all manner of viands, and the three ate to their satiation, whereupon the cloth once more became small.

  Glyneth said: “Visbhume, you have been forming quiet plots. If they help you, then we have only ourselves to blame, and we will therefore be vigilant, and show you little mercy if you anger us.”

  “Bah!” muttered Visbhume. “I could form a dozen plots a minute, or wear them like yonder tree wears its leaves, but to what avail?”

  “If I knew, you would never learn from me.”

  “Ah, Glyneth, your words are hurtful! At one time tender feelings existed between us; have you forgotten so soon?”

  Glyneth grimaced but made no comment. “How can we send a message to Murgen?”

  Visbhume seemed genuinely puzzled. “To what purpose? He knows you are here?”

  “So that he can open a new gate, and rescue us.”

  “Murgen, no matter what his power, cannot break a new gate when the pendulum is swinging.”

  “Explain, if you will:”

  “I spoke in parable. There is no pendulum. At a certain pulse, time is static both here and on Earth, and the gate can be opened at one node or another. See the black moon which moves around the northern sky? It strikes a radius with a central pole and somewhere along the radius a node can be opened, if pulses are in synchrony. It is a matter of exacting calculation, since time moves at different rates here and on Earth. Sometimes here time goes fast and on Earth slow, and sometimes the opposite. Only when time runs at the same rate, as determined by the pulses, can the gates be opened. Otherwise, gates could be opened anywhere at any time.”

  “How can the gate be opened again, and when, and where?”

  Visbhume rose to his feet and, as if in boredom or perhaps abstraction of thought, started to remove the collar from his neck. Kul gave the leash a tug which sent Visbhume jumping in a ridiculous caper to keep his balance.

  “Do that no more,” said Kul. “Be happy the strap is only around your neck and not through holes in your ears. Answer the question, and do not try to confuse us with verbiage.”

  Visbhume growled: “You would take all my valuable knowledge and give me nothing, and still tie me by the neck, as if I were a cur dog or a Progressive.”

  “But for your doing, we would not be here; have you forgotten?”

  Visbhume blew out his thin cheeks. “No good cause is served in dredging up ancient history. That which is done is done, whether we rejoice or grieve! That is my slogan! At that twist in the prism known as ‘Now’ we are to concern ourselves only with immediate cases.”

  “Just so. As of ‘now’ answer the question.”

  Visbhume said loftily: “Let us work practically! I must take the lead, since the knowledge is mine, and you must trust me to consider our mutual interests. Otherwise I must in intricate detail school you in all the-”

  Visbhume stopped short as Kul began to draw taut the leash. Kul said: “Answer!”

  Visbhume said plaintively: “I was preparing my careful response! Your conduct lacks all gentility.” He cleared his throat. “The matter is complex, and, so I fear, beyond your understanding. Time moves by one phase on Earth and by another here. Each phase consists of nine quavers, or pulses, or, even better, constrictions in and out from the central node of what we call ‘synchronicity’. Is this clear? No? As I supposed. There is no point in going farther. You must trust my best judgment.”

  Glyneth said: “You still have not answered me. How do we return to Eart
h?”

  “I am so doing! Between Earth and Tanjecterly, the synchrony lasts six to nine days, and, as we have seen has just ended. Then it sweeps away, along the radius of the black moon with the center node. At the next pulse, the gate will open into another place, but none so easy as Tanjecterly. Hidmarth and Skurre are demon-worlds; Underwood is empty save for a moaning sound; Pthopus is a single torpid soul. These were discovered and explored by Twitten the Arch-mage, and he compiled an almanac, which is of great value.”

  Glyneth brought a long narrow book with black metal covers from the wallet. The spine was like a sheath housing a black nine-sided metal rod with a golden knob at the end. Glyneth, withdrawing the rod, saw that each of the nine sides was engraved in crabbed golden characters.

  Visbhume casually held out his hand. “Let me instruct myself; I have forgotten my calculations.”

  Glyneth drew the book away. “What is the purpose of the rod?”

  “That is a subsidiary instrument. Replace it in the sheath and hand me the book.”

  Glyneth replaced the rod and opened the book. The first page, indited in queer crawling marks with straggling tails and looping risers was illegible, but someone, perhaps Visbhume, had attached a sheet which would seem to be a translation of the original text. Glyneth read aloud:

  “These nine places, along with the Gaean Earth, form the ten worlds of Chronos, and he has skewered them all on his axis. By cunning effort I have, constrained the axis, and held it fixed: such is the magnitude, of my achievement.

  “Of the nine worlds I warn against Paador, Nith and Woon; Hidmarth and Skurre are purulent places infested with demons. Cheng may well be home to the sandestins, but this is uncertain, while Pthopus is trufy insipid. Only Tanjecterly will tolerate human men.

  “In each, section, the almanac details the cycle of quavers and indicates the standard by which ingress and exit may be obtained. With the almanac is the key, and only this key will strike through the weft and allow passage. Lose not the key! The almanac is thereby useless!

  “The calculations must be worked with precision. At the periphery of the quaver the key opens a qate where it is struck. The central node is immutable. On earth it stands when I have fixed it. On Tanjecterly, it resides at the center of the Parly Place, at the town Asphrodiske, where dwell many many sad souls.

  “Such is the domain of Chronos. Some say he is dead, but if one would discover the wraith, he need only tweak, the axis, and he shall learn his own truth.

  “So say I, Twitten of Gaean Earth.”

  Glyneth looked up from the almanac. “Where is Asphrodiske?”

  Visbhume made a petulant gesture. “Somewhere off across the plains-a journey of far distance”

  “And there we can return to Earth?”

  “At the low pulse.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Let me see the almanac.”

  Glyneth extracted the key, and gave the almanac to Kul. “Let him look but keep your fingers at his throat.”

  Visbhume cried out in a tragic voice: “Replace the key! Will you not heed Twitten’s warning?”

  “I will not lose it. Read what you wish to read.”

  Visbhume studied the indexes and those calculations which he had already made. “The time will be measured by the black moon, on its way to opposition with now.”

  “How long is that?

  “A week? Three weeks? A month? There is no measure but the black moon. On Earth there will be a time much different, short or long: I do not know.”

  “And if we use the key at Asphrodiske, where will we come out on Earth?”

  Visbhume chuckled. “At Twitten’s Corners; where else?”

  “Do we have time to reach Asphrodiske?”

  “It is exactly as far as is Watershade from Twitten’s Corners.”

  Glyneth mused: “The distance is far but not too far.” She held out her hand. “Give me the almanac.”

  “And I took you for a pretty flirtatious little softling!” growled Visbhume. “You are as hard as steel!” With poor grace Visbhume obeyed the order.

  “Yonder is Visbhume’s carpet wole or whatever it is called; it stands placid and ready. Should we not ride to Asphrodiske in comfort and style?”

  Kul jerked the leash. “On your feet! Go command your beast to our use.”

  Visbhume ungraciously obeyed the order. The anchors were drawn aboard; with Glyneth and Kul riding in the pergola and Visbhume sitting disconsolately with legs dangling over the stern quarters, the wole set off across the plains of Tanjecterly.

  Chapter 16

  I

  THE WOODCUTTER’S HUT STOOD DESOLATE in the forest, with all its magic gone. A shaft of sunlight slanted through the doorway and laid a skewed rectangle along the width of the floor, leaving the old table and bench in gloom. The silence was disturbed only by the sigh of wind among leaves.

  Everything which had happened at the hut, or which might have happened, was part of the sad and arid past, and gone forever.

  At Watershade Aillas, Dhrun and Shimrod passed a forlorn seven days. Shimrod, for once somber, could report only that Murgen had not abandoned his interest in the matter.

  The dear familiar chambers, with the merry presence of Glyneth only a memory, were too melancholy to be borne. Shimrod took himself to Trilda while Aillas and Dhrun returned to Domreis.

  Castle Miraldra was dreary and dull. Aillas occupied himself with routine business of the kingdom, while Dhrun made a desultory effort to resume his studies. Despatches from South Ulfland caught Aillas’ attention. The Ska had carefully assembled and fitted out a powerful army in the Foreshore, with the clear purpose of striking into South Ulfland, to destroy the Ulf armies and occupy Suarach, Oaldes and perhaps even Ys itself.

  Aillas and Dhrun took ship for South Ulfland with new troops from Dascinet and Scola. They landed at Oaldes and rode at once to Doun Darric.

  In conference Aillas learned that, of late, no major engagements had occurred, which suited him well. His strategy dictated the infliction of maximum enemy losses, while incurring a minimum of his own: a kind of war for which he had shaped his army and which put the Ska at disadvantage. Effectively the Ska had lost control of North Ulfland’s southern half, save where Castle Sank still served as a strongpoint. Aillas drafted a letter to Sarquin, Elector-king of the Ska:

  To the attention of the noble Sarquin, Elector-King: I am the legal and ordained King of Ulfland. I find that your armies still tread upon my soii and hold my people in thrall.

  I ask that you withdraw your armies to the foreshore, that you liberate all Ulfish thralls still in servitude, and that you renounce your aggressive attempts against my land. If you act at once, I will demand no reparations.

  If you fail to heed my request, your people will be killed and Ska blood will flow deep. My armies now exceed yours in number. They are trained to strike and strike again, but to take no blows in return. My ships control the Narrow Sea; we can burn your coastal towns at will. Shortly you will see black smoke rising along the shores of Skaghane, and your folk will know the same woe you have visited upon my people.

  I call upon you to end your futile dream of conquest; you can not harm us; we can destroy you, and bring you great grief.

  These are the words of Aillas, King of Troicinet, Dascinet, Scola and Ulfland.

  Aillas sealed the letter and sent the parcel to be delivered by a captive Ska knight. A week went by and the only response was a sudden movement of Ska troops. East from the Foreshore came the great black army, moving with ominous deliberation.

  Aillas had no slightest intention of attacking so massive a force. Immediately however he sent skirmishers out to lure the Ska light cavalry within range of his archers. Small parties circled to attack the baggage trains and to harass generally the lines of communication.

  The Ska army split into two units of about equal strength, the first proceeding to the town Kerquar on the west and the second moving east to Blackthorn Heath, at the center of N
orth Ulfland.

  Ulf patrols became ever bolder, riding to within shouting distance of the Ska to call insults, in the hope of enticing a group away from the main body, where they could be ambushed and cut to pieces. At night Ska sentries went in fear of their lives and were as often murdered as not, and finally the Ska themselves began sending out night patrols, and setting up their own ambushes, which to some extent diminished Ulf pressures, though the Ska still lost more than they gained.

  Small signs indicated an erosion of Ska morale. Previously they had attacked, with flair and impunity, and had regarded themselves as invincible. Now that they had become quarry and victim, the mantle of invincibility quickly proved to be a thing of no substance and they long and well had mulled over the recollection of their recent defeat, which could not be explained away.

  Aillas wondered if they could be provoked into new errors of strategy which the Ulfish forces could exploit. He and his commanders, poring over maps, drew up a variety of battle-plans, each with notes to deal with contingencies.

  So began an intricate and carefully timed set of operations: attacks, withdrawals, and ever more daring feints against the towns of the Foreshore, until these feints became actual raids, combined with assaults from the sea. At last, as Aillas hoped, the army based at Kerquar shifted to the northwest, with the effect of isolating the army on Blackthorn Heath from reinforcement in the case of sudden massive attack. Now, any plans for a Ska invasion of South Ulfland seemed to have been postponed.

  Aillas instantly sent a force of light cavalry to harass and engage the attention of this army, without actually coming to grips with the highly disciplined core of heavy cavalry. At the same time he sent a special siege army, equipped with two dozen massive arbalests, catapults and other siege engines against Castle Sank, the fortress guarding the southeast. He envisioned a quick and brutally powerful assault, and so it was, despite the rebuilding and reinforcement of the garrison.

  In six hours the outer walls had fallen and the citadel was under attack, with archers stationed upon high wooden towers keeping the parapets under fire. The machines sent great stones high to break open the roofs, then sent in fireballs to ignite the wrecked timbers. The defenders fought with desperate courage, and twice sallies of armoured knights were broken.