He could tolerate one such contact; twice caused him to sweat; thrice he dared not lest he lose control of himself. A griffin's claw reposed in an onyx case. A gallstone cast by the ogre Heulamides gave off a peculiar stench. A small yellow skak* sat in a bottle, resignedly awaiting his eventual release. On a wall hung an article of real power: Persilian, the so-called "Magic Mirror."
This mirror would answer three questions to its owner, who then must relinquish it to another. Should the owner ask a fourth question, the mirror would make glad response, then dissolve into freedom. King Casmir had put three questions, and now reserved the fourth against emergency.
*The least in the hierarchy of fairies. First in rank are fairies, then (alloys, goblins, imps, finally skaks.
In the nomenclature of Faerie, giants, ogres and trolls are also considered halflings, but of a different sort. In a third class are merrihews, willawen and hyslop, and also, by some reckonings, quists and darklings. Sandestins, most powerful of all, are in a class bv themselves.
According to popular wisdom, the company of magicians was usually more bane than benefit. Though he well knew of Murgen's edicts, Casmir at various times solicited aid from arch-magicians Baibalides and Noumique, and several other lesser magicians, to be everywhere rebuffed.
Casmir received news of the sorceress Desmei, reputedly the enemy of Murgen. By reliable report she had taken herself to the Goblin Fair, an annual occasion which she enjoyed and never failed to patronize.
Casmir disguised himself under blue and iron-gray armor, and a shield displaying two dragons rampant. He named himself Sir Perdrax, knight errant, and, with a small retinue, rode into the Forest of Tantrevalles.
In due course he arrived at Twitten's Corner. The inn known as The Laughing Sun and The Crying Moon was filled to capacity; Casmir was forced to accept a place in the barn. A quartermile into the forest he found the Goblin Fair. Desmei was nowhere to be seen.
Casmir wandered among the booths. He saw much to interest him and paid good gold for various oddments.
Late in the afternoon he noted a tall woman, somewhat gaunt of face and feature, her blue hair gathered into a silver cage. She wore a white tabard embroidered in black and red; she evoked in King Casmir (and all men who saw her) a curious disturbance: fascination mingled with revulsion. This was Desmei the sorceress.
Casmir approached her with caution, where she stood haggling with an old knave who kept a booth. The merchant's hair was yellow, his skin sallow; his nose was split and his eyes were like copper pellets; goblin blood flowed in his veins. He held up a feather for her inspection. "This feather," he said, "is indispensable to the conduct of daily affairs, in that it infallibly detects fraudulence."
"Astounding!" declared Desme'i in a voice of boredom.
"Would you say that here is an ordinary feather taken from the carcass of a dead blue jay?"
"Yes. Dead or even alive. So I would assume."
"You would be as wrong as an umpdoodle's trivet."
"Indeed. How is this miraculous feather used?"
"Nothing could be simpler. If you suspect a cheat, a liar or a swindler, touch him with the feather. If the feather turns yellow, your suspicions are confirmed."
"If the feather remains blue?"
"Then the person with whom you are dealing is staunch and true!
This excellent feather is yours for six crowns of gold."
Desmei uttered a metallic laugh. "Do you think me so gullible? It is almost insulting. Evidently you expect me to test you with the feather, then when it remains blue, I pay over to you my gold!"
"Precisely! The feather would verify my assertions!"
Desmei took the feather and touched it to the split nose.
Instantly the feather became bright yellow. Desmei repeated her scornful laugh. "No less than I suspected! The feather declares you to be a cheat!"
"Ha ha! Does not the feather perform exactly as I have claimed?
How can I be a cheat?"
Desmei frowningly regarded the feather, then threw it back upon the counter. "I have no time for conundrums!" Haughtily she strolled away, to inspect the sale of a young harpy in a cage.
After a moment Casmir approached. "You are the sorceress Desmei?"
Desmei fixed her attention on him. "And who are you?"
"I call myself Sir Perdrax, knight errant from Aquitaine."
Desmei smiled and nodded. "And what do you wish of me?" "It is a delicate matter. May I count upon your discretion?"
"To a certain extent." "I will express myself bluntly. I serve King Casmir of Lyonesse, who intends to restore the throne Evandig to its rightful place. To this end he implores your advice."
"The arch-magician Murgen forbids such involvement."
"Already you are at odds with Murgen. How long will you obey his precepts?"
"Not forever. How would Casmir reward me?"
"State your terms; I will communicate them."
Desmei became suddenly fretful. "Tell Casmir to come in his own right to my palace at Ys. There I will talk to him."
Sir Perdrax bowed and Desmei moved away. Presently she departed through the forest in a palanquin carried by six running shadows.
Before setting out for Ys, King Casmir brooded long and well; Desmei was known for her bitter bargains.
At last he ordered out the royal galleass, and on a sparkling windy day sailed out past the breakwater, around Cape Farewell and so to Ys.
Casmir disembarked upon the stone jetty and walked down the beach to Uesmei's white palace.
Casmir found Desmei on a seaward-facing terrace leaning on the balustrade, half in the shade of a tall marble urn, from which trailed the foliage of sweet arbutus.
A change had come over Desmei. Casmir halted, wondering at her pallor, hollow cheeks and gaunt neck. Her fingers, thin and knobbed at the knuckles, hooked over the lip of the balustrade; her feet, in silver sandals, were long and frail and showed a net of purple veins.
Casmir stood slack-jawed and graceless, feeling himself in the presence of mysteries far beyond his understanding.
Desmei glanced at him sidelong, showing neither surprise nor pleasure. "So you have come."
Casmir made a rather strained effort to regain the initiative which he felt should rightly be his. "Did you not expect me?"
Desmei said only, "You are here too late."
"How so?" exclaimed Casmir in new concern.
"All things change. I have no more interest in the affairs of men.
Your forays and wars are a trouble; they disturb the quiet of the countryside."
"There is no need for war! I want only Evandig! Give me magic or a mantle of stealth, so that I may take Evandig without war."
Desmei laughed a soft wild laugh. "I am known for my bitter bargains. Would you pay my price?"
"What is your price?"
Desmei looked out toward the sea's horizon. At last she spoke, so quietly that Casmir came a step closer to hear. "Listen! I will tell you this. Marry Suldrun well; her son will sit on Evandig.
And what is my price for this presagement? Nothing whatever, for the knowledge will do you no service." Desmei abruptly turned and walked through one in a line of tall archways into the shadows of her palace. Casmir watched the thin form become indistinct and disappear. He waited a moment, standing in the hot sunlight. No sound could be heard but the sigh of surf.
Casmir swung away and returned to his ship.
Desmei watched the galleass dwindle across the blue sea. She was alone in her palace. For three months she had awaited Tamurello's visit; he had not come and the message of his absence was clear.
She went into her workroom, unclasped her gown and let it slip to the floor. She studied herself in the mirror, to see grim features, a body bony, lank, almost epicene. Coarse black hair matted her head; her arms and legs were lean and graceless. Such was her natural embodiment, a self in which she felt most easy.