Fwai drug took my memory. Is there an antidote?"
"There is no antidote. The poison breaks the roads to the memory tablets. These roads will never mend. Still, you must remind your Kaiark -"
"I am the Kaiark."
"Then you must know the treaty is real."
"The treaty won't mean much if the land is transferred to Eccord."
"That may not be done. We repeated to each other the word 'forever.'"
"I would like to see this treaty myself," said Efraim. "I will carefully check my records."
"The treaty is not among your records," said the Fwai-chi, and the group shuffled back to the forest. Efraim and Lorcas stood looking after them.
"Now what did he mean by that?" demanded Efraim in wonder.
"He seems to feel that you won't find the treaty."
"We'll soon find out," said Efraim.
They continued across the meadow toward the aircar.
Lorcas paused and looked up toward Camanche. "I can explain the whisper. The wind pushes up over Camanche, and around. It splits and swirls and passes the meadow by. We hear innumerable small frictions: the sound of air against air."
"You may be right. Still I prefer other explanations."
"Such as?"
"The footsteps of a million dead pilgrims; cloud fairies; Camanche reckoning up the seconds."
"More convincing, I agree. Where to now?"
"Your idea of twenty equivalent sites in Eccord is interesting. I would like to look upon these sites."
They flew north, through the peaks, domes, and ridges of Eccord; and within an hour discovered a dozen high meadows with prospects at least as appealing as those of Whispering Ridge. "Rianlle is most arbitrary," said Lorcas. "The question is, why?"
"I cannot even speculate."
"Suppose he gains the meadow and proceeds with his plans. Then what of the Fwai-chi?"
"I doubt if Rianlle would enjoy Fwai-chi pilgrims trooping through his pavilion, resting on his terraces. But how could he stop them? They are protected by the Connatic."
The aircar spiraled down into Scharrode and landed at Benbuphar Strang. As the two. alighted, Efraim said: "Would you not like to return to Port Mar? I value your companionship, but there is nothing to amuse you here; I foresee only unpleasantness."
"The temptation to leave is strong," Lorcas admitted. "The food here is abominable, and I don't like to eat in a closet. Singhalissa oppresses me with her cleverness. Destian is insufferable. As for Sthelany - ah, the magic Sthelany! I hope to persuade her to Port Mar for a visit. This may seem an impossible task but every journey begins with a single step."
"So then, you plan to stay at Benbuphar Strang?"
"With your permission, still a week or two."
Efraim dismissed the aircar; the two returned to the castle. "You have exercised your charm upon her?"
Lorcas nodded. "She is curiously ambiguous. To say that she blows first hot then cold is inaccurate; she blows first cold, then colder. But she could easily order me to keep my distance."
"Has she mentioned the horrors of mirk?"
"She assures me that she bolts her doors with three bars, clamps her windows, keeps vials of offensive odors at the ready, and generally is unavailable."
They halted and looked up at the balcony behind which were Sthelany's rooms.
"A pity the mirk-way is blocked," mused Lorcas. "When all else fails one can always pounce on a girl through the dark. Still she's hinted rather pointedly that I'm not to come around. In fact, after I tried to kiss her in the Garden of Bitter Odors she told me quite bluntly to keep my distance."
"Why not try Singhalissa? Or has she also warned you off?"
"What a thought! I suggest that we take a quiet bottle of wine together and search the archives for the Fwai-chi treaty."
The Index to the Archives mentioned no treaty with the Fwai-chi. Efraim summoned Agnois, who denied all knowledge of the document. "Such an understanding, Your Force, would hardly be expressed as a formal treaty in any case."
"Perhaps not. Why does Rianlle want Whispering Ridge?"
Agnois raised his eyes to a point above Efraim's head. "I sippose that he intends to build there a summer pavilion, Force."
"Surely Rianlle treated with the Kaiark Jochaim on this matter?"
"I cannot say, Your Force."
"Who maintains the archives?"
"The Kaiark himself, with such help as he requires."
At Efraim's nod, Agnois departed.
"So now, no treaty," said Efraim glumly. "Nothing whatever to show Rianlle!"
"The Fwai-chi declared as much."
"How could they know? Our archives are nothing to them!"
"The treaty probably was an oral understanding; they knew that no document existed."
In frustration Efraim jumped to his feet. "I must take counsel; the situation has become intolerable." Once again he summoned Agnois.
"Your Force requires?"
"Send messages to the eiodarks; I wish them to meet me here in twenty hours. The occasion is urgent; I will expect everyone."
"That hour, Your Force, will fall in the middle period of mirk."
"Oh... in thirty hours, then. One other matter - do not inform Singhalissa of this meeting, nor Destian, nor Sthelany, nor anyone who might transfer this news; further, do not give instructions within the hearing of these people, and do not make note of the occasion upon paper. Am I sufficiently explicit?"
"Perfectly so, Your Force."
Agnois departed the room.
"If he fails me this time," said Efraim, "he'll not find me lenient." He went to the window and presently observed the departure of six under-chamberlains.
"There they go with the message. The news will reach Singhalissa as soon as they return, but there is little she can do."
Lorcas said: "She's probably resigned herself to the inevitable by now. And yonder on the terrace, is that not Sthelany? With your permission, I will go out and enliven her life."
"As you like. But one word, while the thought is on my mind. That word is
'caution.' Mirk approaches. Unpleasant events occur. Lock yourself in your chambers, go to sleep, and don't stir till the light returns."
"Reasonable enough," said Lorcas slowly. "I wouldn't care to meet any gharks nor, for that matter, any hoos."
Chapter 10
After six hours of aud, Furad and Osmo left the sky. Cirse and Maddar, instead of slanting toward the horizon, settled vertically with ponderous purpose.
Maddar disappeared first, to leave the land momentarily in green rowan, then Cirse sank behind Whispering Ridge. The sky flared and dimmed; darkness fell.
Mirk had come to Scharrode.
In the farmsteads lights flared and flickered, then were extinguished; in the town shutters clanged, doors slammed, bolts thudded home. Those secure or fearful or uninterested in adventure took themselves to bed.
Others by candlelight denuded themselves, then donned black shoulder pieces, black boots, and hideous man-masks. Others removed gray gauze gowns, to don loose smocks of white muslin; then they loosened the shutters of their windows or the bolts of their doors, but never both; then, with a small taper in one corner of the room casting almost no fight at all, they lay themselves on their couches in a tremulous mixture of hope and fear, or a peculiar emotion in which perhaps one component was muted horror. Some who had bolted both shutters and door, to huddle on their couches in a ferment of aching melancholy, presently arose to unbolt door or shutter.