"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 animals."

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 gla.s.s cap, then held the cylinder to his eye. After a moment he gave the cylinder to Carfilhiot. "What do you see?"

Looking through the gla.s.s, 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, hara.s.s, 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, l.u.s.t, 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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, n.o.ble 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 p.r.o.ngs, 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 s.l.u.te Skeme on the Lir.

At the harbor the fishermen were chary of so much as discussing pa.s.sage to Troicinet. The master of the Sweet Lupus told them, "A Troice warship patrols sometimes close along the sh.o.r.e, 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 pa.s.sage, 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 offsh.o.r.e. 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 crossing 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 pa.s.sion. "Bestir yourself!"

The ostler, muttering to himself, saddled the horses and led them to the street. "And now, my money!"

Shimrod paid over his price and the ostler retired. Aillas told his fellows, "At this moment I am King of Troicinet. If we arrive at Domreis before noon I will be king tomorrow."

"And if we are late?"

"Then the crown has been set on Trewan's head and he is king. Let us be off."

The four rode west beside the coast, past quiet fishing villages and long beaches. At dawn, with the horses stumbling from fatigue, they arrived at Slaloc where they changed horses and rode through the morning toward Domreis.

The sun rose toward the zenith, and ahead the road curved down a slope, across a park to the Temple of Gaea, where a thousand notables attended the coronation.

At the edge of the temple grounds, the four were halted by a guard of eight cadets from the College of Dukes, wearing blue and silver ceremonial armor, with tall scarlet plumes at the side of their helmets. They dropped halberds to bar the way of the four travelers. "You may not enter!"

From within came the peal of clarions, a processional fanfare signaling the appearance of the king-designate. Aillas spurred his horse into motion and broke past the crossed halberds, followed by his three companions. Before them stood the Temple of Gaea. A heavy entabulature rested on columns in the cla.s.sical style. The interior was open to the winds. On a central altar burned the dynastic fire. From the vantage of horseback Aillas saw Prince Trewan mount steps, walk with ritual solemnity across the terrace and kneel on a cushioned bench. Between Aillas and the altar stood the quality of Troicinet in formal caparison. Those at the back turned in outrage as the four rode up behind them. Aillas called out: "Make way, make way!" He sought to ride through the ranked n.o.bility, but angry hands seized his bridle and jerked his horse to a halt. Aillas jumped to the ground and thrust forward, pushing the rapt and reverent onlookers roughly from his way, to their shock and disapproval.

The High Priest stood before the kneeling Trewan. He held high the crown and uttered a sonorous benediction in the ancient Danaan tongue.

Thrusting, dodging, side-stepping, careless of whom he shouldered aside, striking down the aristocratic arms which reached to stay him, swearing and gasping, Aillas gained the steps.

The High Priest brought forward the ceremonial sword and placed it before Trewan, who, as custom ordained, placed his hands on the cross-piece of the handle. The priest scratched Trewan's forehead with a knife, drawing a drop of blood. Trewan, bowing his head, pressed the blood to the sword handle, to symbolize his will to defend Troicinet with blood and steel.

The priest raised the crown on high, and held it over Trewan's head, as Aillas gained the steps. Two guards rushed to seize him; Aillas pushed them aside, ran to the altar, thrust the High Priest's arm aside before the crown could touch Trewan's head. "Stop the ceremony! This is not your king!"

Trewan, blinking in confusion, rose to his feet and turning, looked into Aillas' face. His jaw dropped; his eyes widened. Then, feigning outrage, he cried out: "What means this sorry intrusion? Guards, drag off this madman! He has committed sacrilege! Take him aside and cut him loose from his head!"

Aillas pushed the guards aside. He called out: "Look at me! Do you not know me? I am Prince Aillas!"

Trewan stood heavy-browed and indecisive, his mouth twitching and red spots burning in his cheeks. At last he called out in a nasal voice: "Aillas drowned at sea! You can't be Aillas! Guards, hither! This is an impostor!"

"Wait!" A portly old man, wearing a suit of black velvet, slowly climbed the steps. Aillas recognized Sir Este who had been seneschal at the court of King Granice.

Sir Este gazed a moment into Aillas' face. He turned and spoke to the a.s.sembled n.o.bility, who had pressed forward to the steps. "This is no impostor. This is Prince Aillas." He turned to stare at Trewan. "Who should know it better than you?"

Trewan made no reply.