Flaussig listened with a puzzled frown. "A mysterious sound certainly, one which I have not heard before. Still, were you as old as this vehicle, your viscera would also produce odd noises. Let us be tolerant of the aged."
As soon as the craft once more flew a level course the disturbing sounds dwindled into silence. Lorcas pointed ahead toward the Third Scarp, still fifty miles ahead. "Start now to ascend, in a gradual manner. The aircar is more likely to survive such treatment."
Flaussig acceded to the request, and the vehicle rose at a gradual angle to meet the prodigious bulk of the Third Scarp. Below passed a desolation of ridges, cols, chasms, and, rarely, a small forested valley. Flaussig waved his hand around the fearsome landscape. "Within the range of vision, around the whole of the cataclysmic tumble, live perhaps twenty fugitives: desperados, condemned criminals, and the like. Commit no crimes in Port Mar or here is where you will wind up."
Neither Lorcas nor Efraim saw fit to comment.
A cleft appeared; the aircar glided through with rock walls close to right and left and great buffets of wind thrusting the craft from side to side; then the cleft fell away and the aircar flew over a landscape of peaks, cliffs, and river valleys. Flaussig waved his hand in another inclusive arc. "The Realms, the glorious Realms! Beneath us now Waierd, guarded by the Soldiers of Silence...
And now we fly across the realm Sherras. Notice the castle in the lake..."
"How far to Scharrode?"
"Yonder, over the crags. That is the answer given to all such questions. Why do you visit a place so dour?"
"Curiosity, perhaps."
"You'll learn nothing from them; they're as tight as stones, like all Rhunes.
Below now and behind those great trees is the town Tangwill, home to no more than two or three thousand. The Kaiark Tangissel is said to be insane for women, so he keeps captives in deep dungeons where they don't know whether or not it is mirk, and he visits them during all the periods of the month, except during mirk when he's off on his prowling."
"Nonsense," muttered Efraim, but the pilot paid no heed.
"The great spire to the left is called Ferkus -"
"Up, man, up!" screamed Lorcas. "You're running us into the ridge!"
With a petulant gesture Flaussig jerked the aircraft high, to skim that crag to which Lorcas had made reference; for a period he flew in sullen silence. Below the ground rose and fell, and Flaussig, disdaining further altitude, veered back and forth among crystalline crags, grazed precipices, skirted glaciers and mounds of scree, the better to display his insouciant control over aircraft, landscape, and passengers. Lorcas made frequent expostulations, which Flaussig ignored, and at last guided the aircar down into an irregular valley three to four miles wide and fifteen miles long. At the eastern end a cascade fell two thousand feet into a lake, with nearby the town Esch. Away from the lake flowed a slow river, curving across a meadow and under Benbuphar Strang, then back and forth from pool to pool to the far western end of the valley, where it departed through a narrow gorge.
Near Esch the valley had been tamed to cultivation; the fields were enclosed by dense hedges of bramble berry, as if to hide them from view. In other such fields grazed cattle, while the slopes to either side of the valley were planted as orchards. Elsewhere meadows alternated with forests of banice, white oak, shrack, interstellar yew; through the clear air the foliages - dark green, crimson, sooty ocher, pale green - glowed like colors painted on black velvet.
Efraim half-smiled to the fleeting brush of a sudden poignant emotion. Perhaps an exhalation from his occluded memory? Such twinges had been occurring with increasing frequency. He glanced at Lorcas to find him also staring about in wistful wonder. "I have heard how the Rhunes cherish each stone of the landscape," said Lorcas. "The reason is clear. The Realms are small segments of Paradise."
Flaussig, having unloaded the scanty luggage, now stood in an expectant attitude. Lorcas spoke with slow and careful diction. "The fee was prepaid in Port Mar. The management wished to make sure of their money, no matter what else happened."
Flaussig smiled politely. "In circumstances like the present, a gratuity is usually extended."
"Gratuity?" exclaimed Efraim in a passion. "You are lucky to escape a penalty for criminal ineptitude!"
"Further," said Lorcas, "remain here until his Force the Kaiark permits you to leave. Otherwise he will order his secret agent in Port Mar to meet you and break every bone in your body."
Flaussig bowed in a state of injured dignity. "It shall be as you wish. Our firm has built its reputation upon service. Had I known I was transporting grandees of Scharrode, I would have used more formality, since appropriate behavior is also a watchword at our firm."
Lorcas and Efraim had already turned toward Benbuphar Strang, a castle of black stone, umber tile, timber; and stucco, built to the dictates of that peculiar gaunt style typical of the Rhunes. The chambers of the first floor were enclosed by walls thirty feet high, with tall narrow windows, elaborating above into a complicated system of towers, turrets, promenades, bays, balconies, and eyries.
This was home, mused Efraim, and this was terrain over which he had walked a thousand times. He looked westward along the valley, across the pools and meadows, past the successive silhouettes of the forests, the colors muted by the haze, until they became purple-gray shadow under the far crags: he had looked across this vista ten thousand times... He felt no recollection.
He had been recognized from the town. Several dozen men in black jackets and buff pantaloons hurried forth, with half as many women in gray gauze gowns.
The men, approaching, performed complicated gestures of respect, then came forward, halting at a distance precisely reckoned by protocol.
Efraim asked, "How have things gone during my absence?"
The most venerable of the men responded: "Tragically, Force. Our Kaiark Jochaim was pierced by a Gorget bolt. Otherwise not badly, but not well. There have been doubts and misgivings. From Torre a band of warriors invaded our land. The Kang Destian ordered out a force, but there was little correspondence in rank2; and no great combat ensued. Our blood boils for revenge upon Gosso of Gorgetto. The Kang Destian has delayed retaliation; when will he order forth our power?
Remember, from the crest of Haujefolge our sails command his castle. We can invade, then while Gosso sweats and wheezes, we can drop down a force and take Gorgance Strang."
"First things first," said Efraim. "I now go to Benbuphar Strang to discover what irregularities, if any, exist. Have you information, or even suspicions, in this regard?"
The sage performed another gesticulation of a ritual effacement. "I would never reflect upon Benbuphar irregularities, let alone give them voice."
"Do so now," said Efraim. "You will be doing your Kaiark a service."
"As you will, Force, but remember, by the nature of things, we of the town know nothing. Uncharitable persons blink askance at the Kraike Singhalissa's projected trisme with Kaiark Rianlle of Eccord."
"What?" exclaimed Efraim. "And how is it to be with the Kraike Dervas?"
"She is to be rusticated, or so goes the rumor. Such is Singhalissa's price for the Dwan Jar, where Rianlle yearns to build a pavilion. This at least is common knowledge: We learn also of trisme between the Kang Destian and the Lissolet Maerio. If these trismes were to take place, what then? Does it not seem that Rianlle would sit high in the counsels of Scharrode? Still, now that you are at hand, and Kaiark by right, the question is moot."