Without enthusiasm Aillas called the serving boy. "A measure of beer for this gentleman. Nothing more for me."
Byssante spoke on, while Aillas brooded over what he had heard.
Prince Arbamet, Trewan's father, had been alive when he had departed Domreis aboard the Smaadra. The line of succession had been straight: Granice through Arbamet to Trewan, and thereafter Trewan's male progeny. At Ys, Trewan had visited the Troice cog, and apparently had learned of his father's death. The line of descent then became painful from his point of view: Granice through Ospero to Aillas, bypassing Trewan altogether. No wonder Trewan had returned from the Troice cog in a glum mood! And no mystery whatever why Aillas must be murdered!
Swift return to Troicinet was imperative—but what of Dhrun, his son?
Almost as if in response Byssante rapped him with a pink knuckle.
"Look you yonder! The ruling house of Lyonesse drives forth for an afternoon airing!"
Preceded by a pair of mounted heralds and followed by twelve soldiers in dress uniform, a splendid carriage drawn by six white unicorns rolled down the Sfer Arct. Facing forward, King Casmir and Prince Cassander, a slender big-eyed youth fourteen years old, rode in the back seat. On the seat across sat Queen Sollace in a gown of green silk and Fareult, Duchess of Relsimore, who carried in her lap, or more accurately, tried to control, an auburn-haired infant in a white gown. The child wanted to climb up on the back of the seat despite Lady Fareult's admonitions and King Casmir's scowling. Queen Sollace merely averted her gaze.
"There you have the royal family," said Byssante with an indulgent wave of the hand. "King Casmir, Prince Cassander and Queen Sollace and a lady whom I don't know. Beside her stands the Princess Madouc, daughter to Princess Suldrun, now dead by her own hand."
"Princess Madouc? A girl?"
"Aye, an odd little creature she's said to be." Byssante finished his beer. "You are a lucky fellow to witness royal pomp so close at hand! And now I'm off to my nap."
Aillas went to his chamber. Sitting on the chair, he unwrapped Persilian and set it on the night-stand. The mirror, in one of its flippant moods, reflected the wall first upside-down, then reversed left to right, then showed a window giving on the stableyard, then with King Casmir peering balefully in through the window.
Aillas said: "Persilian."
"I am here."
Aillas spoke with great caution, lest inadvertently he phrase a casual remark in the form of a question. "I may ask you three questions, then no more."
"You may ask a fourth question. I will answer, but then I will be free. You have already asked one question."
Aillas spoke carefully: "I want to find my son Dhrun, take him into my custody, then return with him quickly and safely to Troicinet. Tell me how best to do this."
"You must put your requirements in the form of a question."
"How can I do as I described?"
"That is essentially three questions."
"Very well," said Aillas. "Tell me how to find my son."
"Ask Ehirme."
"Only that?" cried Aillas. "Two words and no more?"
"The reply is adequate," said Persilian and would say no more.
Aillas wrapped the mirror in a cloth and tucked it under the straw pallet.
The time was late afternoon. Aillas strolled out along the Chale, brooding upon what he had learned. At the shop of a Moorish goldsmith he offered for sale a pair of Suldrun's emeralds, each the size of a pea.
The Moor examined the gems in turn, using a magnifying lens of a sort strange and new. Completing his appraisal he spoke in a studiously flat voice. "These are excellent gems. I will pay one hundred silver florins for each—approximately half their worth.
That is my first, last and only offer."
"Done," said Aillas. The Moor laid out gold and silver coins, which Aillas swept into his pouch, then departed the shop.
At sunset Aillas returned to the Four Mallows where he supped upon fried fish, bread and wine. He slept soundly and when he awoke the oubliette seemed a bad dream. He took breakfast, paid his account, slung the parcel containing Persilian over his shoulder and set out along the shore-road south.
By a route remembered from what seemed a previous existence he tramped to the farmstead where Ehirme made her home. As before he halted by the hedge and took stock of the surroundings. As before men and boys worked hay. In the kitchen garden a stocky old crone hobbled among the cabbages, cutting weeds with a hoe. As Aillas watched, three small pigs escaped from the sty and trotted briskly into the turnip patch. The crone gave a peculiar warbling scream and a small girl ran from the cottage to chase the pigs who darted everywhere except toward the sty.
The girl ran panting past the gate. Aillas stopped her. "Would you tell Ehirme that someone at the gate wishes to speak to her?"
The girl looked him up and down in hostility and distrust. She called out to the old woman who weeded the cabbages, then resumed her pursuit of the pigs, in which she now was joined by a small black dog.
The old woman hobbled toward the gate. A shawl thrown over her head, and projecting a little past her face, shaded her features.
Aillas stared in consternation. This crooked old creature: was it Ehirme? She drew close: first a step of the right leg, then a lurch of the hip, and a swing around of the left leg. She halted.
Her face showed odd distortions and creases; her eyes seemed to have sunk in their sockets.
Aillas stammered: "Ehirme! What has happened to you?"
Ehirme opened her mouth and produced a set of warbling vocables, none intelligible to Aillas. She made a sign of frustration and called the girl, who came to stand beside her. The girl told Aillas: "King Casmir cut her tongue and hurt her everywhere."
Ehirme spoke; the girl listened carefully, then, turning to Aillas, translated. "She wants to know what happened to you."
"They put me in an underground dungeon. I escaped, and now I want to find my son."
Ehirme spoke; the girl just shook her head. Aillas asked: "What did she say?"
"Things about King Casmir."
"Ehirme, where is my son Dhrun?"
A moment of incomprehensible warbling, which the girl translated:
"She doesn't know what has happened. She sent the baby to her mother, out by the great forest. Casmir sent out a party but they brought back a girl. So the baby boy must still be there."
"And how will I find this place?"
"Go up to the Old Street, then east to Little Saffield. Here take the side road north to Tawn Timble, and thence to the village Glymwode. There you must ask for Graithe the woodcutter and Wynes, his wife."
Aillas looked into his pouch and brought out a necklace of pink pearls. He gave it to Ehirme, who accepted it without enthusiasm.
"This was Suldrun's necklace. When I reach Troicinet I will send for you, and you will live out your years in comfort and as much content as may be possible."
Ehirme produced a low quacking sound.
"She says that it is kind of you to make the offer, but that she does not know if the men would wish to leave their land."
"We will settle such affairs later. Here I am only Aillas the vagabond, and I have nothing to give except my gratitude."
"So it may be."
Late in the day Aillas arrived at Little Saffield, a market town beside the River Timble, built all of ocher-gray country stone. At the center of town Aillas found the Black Ox Inn, where he took lodging for the night.
In the morning he set off along a lane which followed the River Timble north, in the shade of poplar trees along the riverbank.
Crows soared over the fields, notifying all who would listen of his presence.
Sunlight burnt through the early mist and warmed his face; already he was losing the haunted pallor of his captivity. As he walked an odd thought passed through his mind: "Some day I must return and visit my twelve good friends..." He uttered a grim sound. What an idea! Return into the dark hole? Never... He calculated. Today Zerling would drop the bucket with his rations. The bread and water would remain in the basket and the poor underground wight would be deemed dead. Zerling might perhaps report as much to King Casmir. How would the king react to the news? An indifferent shrug? A twitch of curiosity as to the father of his daughter's child? Aillas smiled a thin hard smile and for a space amused himself with possible directions of the future.