She went to the chest where she had stored her possessions.
Nothing had been disturbed. She found the secret drawer and pulled it open; within, so her fingers told her, were those oddments and ornaments, precious gems, gold and silver which had come into her possession: mostly gifts from visiting kindred; neither Casmir nor Sollace had showered gifts upon their daughter.
Suldrun tied the valuables into a scarf. She went to the window and bade farewell to the chamber. Never would she set foot in there again: of this she felt certain.
She returned through the window, pulled right the casement and returned to Aillas.
They crossed the dark room, Opened the door a crack, then stepped out into the dim corridor. Tonight, of all nights, the palace was busy; many notables were on hand, and up from the Octagon came the sound of voices and the two could not effect the quick departure upon which they had planned. They looked at each other with wide eyes and pounding hearts.
Aillas uttered a soft curse. "So now: we're trapped."
"No!" whispered Suldrun. "We'll go down the back stairs.
Don't worry; one way or another we'll escape! Come!" They ran light-footed along the corridor, and so began a thrilling game which dealt them a series of frights and startlements and had been no part of their expectations. Here and there they ran, gliding on soft feet along old corridors, dodging from chamber to chamber, shrinking back into shadows, peering around corners: from the Respondency into the Chamber of Mirrors, up a spiral staircase to the old observatory, across the roof into a high parlor, where young noble-folk held their trysts, then down a service stairs to a long back corridor which gave on a musicians' gallery, overlooking the Hall of Honors.
Candles in the wall sconces were alight; the hall had been made ready for a ceremonial event, perhaps later in the evening; now the hall stood empty.
Stairs led down into a closet which gave on the Mauve Parlor, socalled for the mauve silk upholstery of its chairs and couches: a splendid room with ivory and snuff-colored paneling and a vivid emerald green rug. Aillas and Suldrun ran quietly to the door, where they looked out into the Long Gallery, at this moment empty of human occupancy.
"It's not far now," said Suldrun. "First we'll make for the Hall of Honors, then, if no one appears, we'll make for the Octagon and out the door."
With a last look right and left, the two ran to the arched alcove in which hung the doors into the Hall of Honors. Suldrun looked back the way they had come, and clutched Aillas' arm. "Someone came out of the library. Quick, inside."
They slipped through the doors into the Hall of Honors. They stood wide-eyed, face to face, holding their breaths. "Who was it?"
Aillas whispered.
"I think it was the priest Umphred." "Perhaps he didn't see us."
"Perhaps not... If he did he will be sure to investigate. Come; to the back room!" "I see no back room!"
"Behind the arras. Quick! He's just outside the door!" They ran the length of the hall and ducked behind the hanging. Peering through the crack, Aillas saw the far door ease open: slowly, slowly. The portly figure of Brother Umphred was a dark stencil against the lights of the Long Gallery.
For a moment Brother Umphred stood motionless, save for quick shakes of the head. He seemed to give a cluck of puzzlement and came forward into the room, looking right and left.
Suldrun went to the back wall. She found the iron rod and pushed it into the lock-holes.
Aillas asked in astonishment: "What are you doing?"
"Umphred may very well know about this back room. He won't know this other."
The door opened, releasing a suffusion of green-purple light.
Suldrun whispered: "If he comes any closer we'll hide in here."
Aillas, standing by the crack, said, "No. He's turning back...
He's leaving the hall. Suldrun?"
"I'm in here. It's where the king, my father, keeps covert his private magic. Come look!"
Aillas went to the doorway, glanced gingerly right and left.
"Don't be alarmed," said Suldrun. "I've been in here before. The little imp is a skak; he's closed in his bottle. I'm sure he'd prefer freedom, but I fear his spite. The mirror is Persilian; it speaks in season. The cow's horn yields either fresh milk or hydromel, depending upon how one holds it."
Aillas came slowly forward. The skak glared in annoyance. Colored light-motes caught in tubes jerked in excitement. A gargoyle mask hanging high in the shadows turned down a dyspeptic sneer.
Aillas spoke in alarm: "Come! before we fall afoul of these things!"
Suldrun said, "Nothing has ever done me harm. The mirror knows my name and speaks to me!"
"Magic voices are things of bane! Come! We must leave the palace!"
"One moment, Aillas. The mirror has spoken kindly; perhaps it will do so again. Persilian?"
From the mirror came a melancholy voice: "Who calls 'Persilian'?"
"It is Suldrun! You spoke to me before and called me by name. Here is my lover, Aillas!"
Persilian uttered a groan, then sang in a voice deep and plangent, very slowly so that each word was distinct.
Aillas knew a moonless tide; Suldrun saved him death.
They joined their souls in wedlock strong To give their son his breath.
Aillas: choose from many roads; Each veers through toil and blood.
But still this night you must be wed To seal your fatherhood.
Long have I served King Casmir; He asked me questions three. Yet never will he speak the rote to break me full and free.
Aillas, you must take me now, and hide me all alone; By Suldrun's tree, there shall I dwell Beneath the sitting-stone.
Aillas, as if moving in a dream, reached his hands to Persilian's frame. He pulled it free of the metal peg which held it to the wall. Aillas held up the mirror and asked in puzzlement: "How, this very night, can we be wed?"
Persilian's voice, richly full, issued from the mirror: "You have stolen me from Casmir; I am yours. This is your first question.
You may ask two more. If you ask a fourth, I am free." "Very well; as you wish it. So how will we be wed?" "Return to the garden; the way is safe. There your marriage bonds shall be forged; see to it that they are strong and true. Quick, go now; time presses! You must be gone before Haidion is bolted tight for the night!"
With no more ado Suldrun and Aillas departed the secret room, closing tight the door on the seep of green-purple light. Suldrun looked through the crack in the hangings; the Hall of Honors was empty save for the fifty-four chairs whose personalities had loomed so massively over her childhood. They seemed now shrunken and old and some of their magnificence had gone; still Suldrun felt their brooding contemplation as she and Aillas ran down the hall.
The Long Gallery was empty; the two ran to the Octagon and out into the night. They started up the arcade, then made a hurried detour into the orangery while a quartet of palace guards came stamping, clanking and cursing down from the Urquial. The steps faded into quiet. Moonlight through the arched intervals cast a succession of pale shapes, alternately silver-gray and darkest black, into the arcade. Across Lyonesse Town lamps yet flickered, but no sound reached the palace. Suldrun and Aillas slipped from the orangery, ran up under the arcade and so through the postern into the old garden. Aillas brought Persilian from under his tunic. "Mirror, I have put a question and I will be sure to put no more until need arises. Now I will not ask how I must hide you, as you directed; still, if you wished to enlarge upon your previous instructions, I will listen."
Persilian spoke: "Hide me now, Aillas, hide me now, down by the old lime tree. Under the sitting-stone is a crevice. Hide as well the gold you carry, quick as quick can be."