Sir Welty returned to the fort and contemptuously tossed a pack of coins to the captain.
"Pass, gentlemen."
Two by two the company rode by Kaul Bocach, and that night rested on a meadow beside the south fork of the Evander.
At noon of the following day the troop halted before Tintzin Fyral, where it surmounted a tall crag, as if growing from the substance of the crag itself.
King Casmir and eight of his knights rode forward; the others turned aside and set up a camp beside the Evander.
A herald came out from the castle, and addressed King Casmir.
"Sir, I bring Duke Carfilhiot's compliments and his request that you follow me. We ride a crooked road up the side of the crag, but have no concern; the danger is only to enemies. I will lead the way."
As the troop proceeded, the stench of carrion came on the breeze.
In the middle distance the Evander flowed across a green meadow where rose an array of twenty poles, half supporting impaled corpses.
"That is hardly a welcoming sight," King Casmir told the herald.
"Sir, it reminds the duke's enemies that his patience is not inexhaustible."
King Casmir shrugged, offended not so much by Carfilhiot's acts as by the odor.
At the base of the crag waited an honor guard of four knights in ceremonial plate armor, and Casmir wondered how Carfilhiot knew so closely the hour of his coming. A signal from Kaul Bocach? Spies at Haidion? Casmir, who had never been able to introduce spies into Tintzin Fyral, frowned at the thought.
The cavalcade mounted the crag by a road cut into the rock, which finally, high in the air, turned under a portcullis into the castle's forecourt.
Duke Carfilhiot came forward; King Casmir dismounted; the two pressed each other in a formal embrace.
"Sir, I am delighted by your visit," said Carfilhiot. "I have arranged no suitable festivities, but not from any lack of good will. In truth, you gave me too short notice."
"I am perfectly suited," said King Casmir. "I am not here for frivolity. Rather, I hope to explore once more matters of mutual advantage."
"Excellent! That is always a topic of interest. This is your first visit to Tintzin Fyral, is it not?"
"I saw it as a young man, but from a distance. It is beyond question a mighty fortress."
"Indeed. We command four important roads: to Lyonesse, to Ys, over the Ulfish moors and the border road north to Dahaut. We are selfsufficient.
I have driven a well deep, through solid stone into a flowing aquifer. We maintain supplies for years of siege. Four men could hold the access road against a thousand, or a million. I consider the castle impregnable."
"I am inclined to agree," said Casmir. "Still, what of the saddle?
If a force occupied the mountain yonder, conceivably it might bring siege engines to bear."
Carfilhiot turned to inspect the heights to the north, which were connected to the crag by a saddle, as if he had never before noticed this particular vista. "So it would seem."
"But you are not alarmed?"
Carfilhiot laughed, showing perfect white teeth. "My enemies have reflected long and well on Breakback Ridge. As for the saddle, I have my little wiles."
King Casmir nodded. "The view is exceptionally fine."
"True. On a clear day, from my high workroom, I scan the entire vale, from here to Ys. But now you must refresh yourself, and then we can take up our conversation."
Casmir was conducted to a set of high chambers overlooking Vale Evander: a view across twenty miles of soft green landscape to a far glint of sea. Air, fresh save for an occasional cloying taint, blew through the open windows. Casmir thought of Carfilhiot's dead enemies on the meadow below, each silent on his own pole.
An image flickered through his mind: Suldrun pallid and drawn here at Tintzin Fyral, breathing the putrid air. He thrust away the picture. The affair was over and done.
Two bare-chested black Moorish boys, wearing turbans of purple silk, red pantaloons and sandals with spiral toes, helped him with his bath, then dressed him in silk small-clothes and a tawny-buff robe decorated with black rosettes.
Casmir descended to the great hall, past an enormous aviary, where birds of many-colored plumage flew from branch to branch.
Carfilhiot awaited him in the great hall; the two men seated themselves on divans and were served frozen fruit sherbet in silver cups.
"Excellent," said Casmir. "Your hospitality is pleasant."
"It is informal and I hope that you will not be supremely bored," murmured Carfilhiot.
Casmir put aside the ice. "I have come here to discuss a matter of importance." He glanced at the servants. Carfilhiot waved them from the room. "Proceed."
Casmir leaned back in his chair. "King Granice recently sent out a diplomatic mission, on one of his new warships. They put into Blaloc, Pomperol, Dahaut, Cluggach in Godelia and Ys. The emissaries decried my ambitions and proposed an alliance to defeat me. They won only lukewarm support, if any, even though"—Casmir smiled a cold smile—"I have made no attempt to disguise my intentions. Each hopes the others will fight the battle; each wishes to be the single kingdom unmolested. Granice, I am sure, expected no more; he wanted to assert both his leadership and his command of the sea. In this he succeeded very well. His ship destroyed a Ska vessel which at once changes our perceptions of the Ska; they can no longer be considered invincible, and Troice sea-power is magnified, They paid a price, losing the commander and one of the two royal princes aboard.
"For me the message is clear. The Troice become stronger; I must strike and cause a dislocation. The obvious place is South Ulfland, from where I can attack the Ska in North Ulfland, before they consolidate their holdings. Once I take the fortress Poelitetz, Dahaut is at my mercy. Audry cannot fight me from both west and south.
"First then—to take South Ulfland, with maximum facility, which presupposes your cooperation." Casmir paused. Carfilhiot, looking thoughtfully into the fire, made no immediate response.
The silence became uncomfortable. Carfilhiot stirred and said:
"You have, as you know, my personal well-wishes, but I am not altogether a free agent, and I must conduct myself with circumspection."
"Indeed," said Casmir. "You apparently do not refer to your nominal liege-lord King Oriante."
"Definitely not."
"Who, may I ask, are the enemies you are so pointedly trying to dissuade?"
Carfilhiot made a motion. "I agree, the stench is appalling. Those are rogues of the moors: petty barons, ten-tuffet lords, little better than bandits, so that an honest man takes his life in his hands to ride out across the fells for a day's hunting. South Ulfland is essentially lawless, save for Vale Evander. Poor Oriante can't dominate his wife, much less a kingdom. Every clan chieftain fancies himself an aristocrat and builds a mountain fortress, from which he raids his neighbors. I have attempted to bring order: a thankless job. I am styled a despot and an ogre.
Harshness, however, is the only language these highland brutes understand."
"These are the enemies who cause your circumspection?"
"No." Carfilhiot rose to his feet and went to stand with his back to the fire. He looked down at Casmir with cool dispassion. "In all candor, here are the facts. I am a student of magic. I am taught by the great Tamurello, and I am under obligation, so that I must refer to him matters of policy. That is the situation."
Casmir stared up into Carfilhiot's eyes. "When may I expect your response?"
"Why wait?" asked Carfilhiot. "Let us settle the matter now.
Come."
The two climbed to Carfilhiot's workroom, Casmir now quiet, alert and alive with interest.
Carfilhiot's apparatus was almost embarrassingly scant; even Casmir's trifles were impressive by contrast. Perhaps, Casmir speculated, Carfilhiot kept the larger part of his equipment stored in cabinets.
A large map of Hybras, carved in various woods, dominated all else, in both size and evident importance. In a panel at the back of the map had been carved a face: the semblance, so it seemed, of Tamurello, in crude and exaggerated outlines. The craftsman had been at no pains to flatter Tamurello. The forehead bulged over protruding eyes; cheeks and lips were painted a particularly unpleasant red. Carfilhiot pointedly offered no explanations. He pulled at the ear-lobe of the image. "Tamurello! hear the voice of Faude Carfilhiot!" He touched the mouth. "Tamurello, speak!"