"If I ate so much every night, I would no longer care to chop logs in the morning," declared Graithe.
"Pray the day will arrive!" exclaimed Wynes.
"Who knows? Perhaps even before you expect it," said Aillas. "But I am tired and I must arise before sun-up."
Half an hour before sunrise Aillas stood by Madling Meadow. He waited in the gloom under the trees until the first glint of rising sun showed in the east, then slowly started across the dew-wet grass, the gem in his hand. As he neared the hummock he began to hear small twitters and warblings in a register almost too high for his ear to perceive. Something slapped at the hand which carried the gem; Aillas only clenched his hand the tighter. Invisible fingertips tweaked his ears and pulled his hair; his hat was whisked away and flung high in the air.
Aillas spoke in a gentle voice: "Fairies, kind fairies: do not treat me so! I am Aillas, father to my son Dhrun, whom you loved."
There was a moment of breathless silence. Aillas continued toward the hummock, to halt twenty yards short.
The hummock suddenly became misty, and underwent changes, as of images gathering and going, shifting in and out of focus.
From the hummock came a red carpet, unrolling almost to where Aillas stood. Along the carpet came a fairy five feet tall, pale brown of skin, with an over-sheen of olive-green. He wore a scarlet robe trimmed with white weasel-heads, a fragile crown of gold strands and green velvet slippers. To right and left other fairies showed on the margin of visibility, never totally substantial.
"I am King Throbius," stated the fairy. "You are indeed the father of our beloved Dhrun?" "Yes, your Majesty."
"In that case, our love transfers in part to you, and you will find no harm at Thripsey Shee."
"I give you my thanks, your Majesty."
"No thanks are needed; we are honored by your presence. What is that which you hold in your hand?"
Another fairy spoke softly: "Oh, the thrilling dazzle!" "Your Majesty, this is a magic gem, of enormous value!" Fairy voices murmured: "True, true. A fervent gem, of magic hue."
"Allow me to hold it," said King Throbius, in a peremptory voice.
"Your Majesty, ordinarily your wishes would command me, but I have been most solemnly instructed. I want my son Dhrun returned to me alive and well; then and only then may I relinquish the gem."
From the fairies came murmurs of surprise and disapprovaclass="underline" "A naughty fellow!" "Just so, the mortals!" "One can never trust their gentility." "Pale and coarse as rats!"
King Throbius spoke: "I regret to state that Dhrun is no longer resident among us. He grew into boyhood and we were forced to send him away."
Aillas gaped in astonishment. "He is barely a year old!" "In the shee time jerks and skips like a may-fly. We never trouble to reckon it out. When Dhrun left, he was, in your terms, perhaps nine years old."
Aillas stood silent.
"Please give me the pretty bauble," coaxed King Throbius, in the voice he might use upon a skittish cow whose milk he hoped to steal.
"My position remains the same. Only when you give me my son."
"That is next to impossible. He departed some time ago. Now then"—King Throbius' voice became harsh—"do as I command or never will you see your son again!"
Aillas uttered a wild laugh. "I have never seen him yet! What have I to lose?"
"We can transform you into a badger," piped a voice.
"Or a milkweed fluff."
"Or a sparrow with the horns of an elk."
Aillas asked King Throbius: "You promised me your love and protection; now I am threatened. Is this fairy honor?"
"Our honor is bright," declared King Throbius in a ringing voice. He nodded crisply right and left in satisfaction, as his subjects called out endorsement.
"In that case, I return to my offer: this fabulous gem for my son."
A shrill voice cried out: "That may not be, since it would bring good luck to Dhrun! I hate him, most severely! I brought a mordet* on him."
*A unit of acrimony and malice, as expressed in the terms of a curse.
King Throbius spoke in the silkiest of voices: "And what was the mordet?"
"Aha, harrumf. Seven years."
"Indeed. I find myself vexed. For seven years you shall taste not nectar but tooth-twisting vinegar. For seven years you will smell bad smells and never find the source. For seven years your wings will fail you and your legs will weigh heavy as lead and sink you four inches deep into all but the hardest ground. For seven years you will carry all slops and slimes from the shee. For seven years you will know an itch on your belly that no scratching will relieve. And for seven years you will not be allowed to look upon the pretty new bauble."
Falael seemed most distressed by the final injunction. "Oh, the bauble? Good King Throbius, do not taunt me so! I crave that color! It is my most cherished thing!"
"So it must be! Away with you!"
Aillas asked: "Then you will bring back Dhrun?"
"Would you take me into a fairy war with Trelawny Shee, or Zady Shee, or Misty Valley Shee? Or any other shee which guards the forest? You must ask a reasonable price for your bit of stone.
Flink!" "Here, sir."
"What can we offer Prince Aillas to fulfill his needs?"
"Sir, I might suggest the Never-fail, as carried by Sir Chil the fairy knight."
"A happy thought! Flink, you are most ingenious! Go, prepare the implement, on this instant!"
"On this instant it shall be, sir!"
Aillas ostentatiously put his hand, with the gem, into his pouch. "What is a ‘Never-fail'?"
Flink's voice, breathless and shrill, sounded beside King Throbius. "I have it here, sir, after great and diligent toil at your order."
"When I require haste, Flink hurries," King Throbius told Aillas. "When I use the word ‘instant' he understands the word to mean ‘now.'"
"Just so," panted Flink. "Ah, how I have toiled to please Prince Aillas! If he deigns me only one word of praise, I am more than repaid!"
"That is the true Flink speaking!" King Throbius told Aillas. "Honest and fine is Flink!"
"I am interested less in Flink than in my son Dhrun. You were about to bring him to me."
"Better! The Never-fail will serve you all your life long, always to indicate where Lord Dhrun may be found. Notice!" King Throbius displayed an irregular object three inches in diameter, carved from a walnut burl and suspended from a chain. A protuberance to the side terminated in a point ripped with a sharp tooth.
King Throbius dangled the Never-fail on its chain. "You will note the direction indicated by the white fairy-tooth? Along that slant you will find your son Dhrun. The Never-fail is failureproof and warranted forever. Take it! The instrument will guide you infallibly to your son!"
Aillas indignantly shook his head., "It points north, into the forest, where only fools and fairies go. This Never-fail points the direction of my own death—or it may take me without fail to Dhrun's corpse."
King Throbius studied the instrument. "He is alive, otherwise the tooth would not snap to direction with such vigor. As for your own safety, I can only say that danger exists everywhere, for you and for me. Would you feel secure walking the streets of Lyonesse Town? I suspect not. Or even Domreis, where Prince Trewan hopes to make himself king? Danger is like the air we breathe. Why cavil at the club of an ogre or the maw of an ossip? Death comes to all mortals."
"Bah!" muttered Aillas. "Flink is fast on his feet; let him run out into the forest with the Never-fail and bring back my son."
From all sides came titters, quickly stilled when King Throbius, not amused, thrust his arm upward. "The sun stands hot and high; the dew is going and the bees are first at our flower-cups. I am losing my zest for transactions. What are your final terms?"