Glyneth hugged Dhrun and kissed his cheek. "Do you hear that? You must play your best and sooner or later King Rhodion will wander by. Then it's off and away with seven years bad luck."
"Only good luck will bring him past. So I have seven years to wait. By then I'll be old and crippled."
"Dhrun, you are ridiculous! Good music always defeats bad luck, and never forget it!"
"I endorse that view!" said Doctor Fidelius. "Come with me now, both of you. We have a few changes to make."
Doctor Fidelius took the two children to a merchant dealing in fine shoes and garments. At the sight of Dhrun and Glyneth he threw his hands into the air. "Into the back room with you."
Servants set out tubs of warm water and sweet-scented Byzantine soap. Dhrun and Glyneth disrobed and washed away the grime and grit of travel. The servants brought them towels and chemises of linen, then they were dressed in handsome new garments: blue trousers, a white shirt and a nutmeg-buff tunic for Dhrun; a frock of pale green lawn for Glyneth and a dark green ribbon for her hair. Other garments were packed into a case and sent back to the van.
Doctor Fidelius surveyed the two with approval. "Where are the two ragamuffins? We have here a gallant prince and a beautiful princess!"
Glyneth laughed. "My father was only a squire of town Throckshaw in Ulfland, but Dhrun's father is a prince and his mother a princess."
Doctor Fidelius' interest was aroused. "Who told you this?" he asked Dhrun.
"The fairies."
Doctor Fidelius spoke slowly: "If this is true, as well it may be, you are a very important person. Your mother may have been Suldrun, Princess of Lyonesse. I am sorry to say that she is dead."
"And my father?"
"I know nothing of him. He is rather a mysterious figure."
Chapter 20
EARLY IN THE MORNING, with the sun low behind the trees and dew still wet on the grass, Graithe the woodcutter took Aillas to Madling Meadow. He indicated a low mound on which grew a small gnarled oak. "That is Thripsey Shee. To mortal eyes it looks like very little, but long ago, when I was young and rash, I stole here through the woods of a Midsummer's Eve, when the fairies do not trouble to dissemble; and where you now see hummocks of turf and an old tree, I saw pavilions of silk and a million fairy lamps and towers rising one on the other. The fairies ordered musicians for a pavanne, and the music began. I felt that I must run out and join them, but I knew that if I danced so much as one step on fairy sward, I must dance without surcease the rest of my life, so I put my hands over my ears and went staggering away like a man bereft."
Aillas searched Madling Meadow. He heard bird-calls and tinkles which might have been laughter. He walked three steps out into the meadow. "Fairies, I pray you, listen to me! I am Aillas, and the boy Dhrun is my son. Will someone please come to talk to me?"
Silence fell across Madling Meadow, except for what might have been another bird call. Near the mound lupines and larkspur jerked and bobbed, though the morning air was calm.
Graithe pulled at his sleeve. "Come away. They are preparing mischief. If they wished to talk to you they would have done so at once. Now they are plotting harm. Come away, before you suffer their tricks."
The two returned through the woods. Graithe said, "They are a strange folk. They think no more of us than we do of a fish."
Aillas took his leave of Graithe. On the way back to the village Glymwode he turned aside and approached a half-decayed stump. From the wrapping he took Persilian and propped it upright on the stump. For an instant he saw himself in the glass, comely despite the harsh structure of jaw, chin and cheekbone, with eyes bright as blue lights. Then Persilian, from perversity, altered the image, and Aillas found himself looking into the face of a hedgehog.
Aillas spoke: "Persilian, I need your help." "Do you wish to put a question?"
"Yes."
"It will be your third."
"I know. Therefore, I want to describe the sense of my question, so that you will not return a glib evasion. I am seeking my son Dhrun, who was taken by the fairies of Thripsey Shee. I will ask you: 'How may I bring my son alive and well into my own custody?'
I want to know exactly how to locate my son, release him from Thripsey Shee in possession of his health, youth and mental faculties, without incurring penalty. I want to locate and free my son now and not in a program involving weeks, months or years, nor do I want to be fooled or frustrated in some way I haven't considered. Therefore, Persilian—"
"Has it occurred to you," asked Persilian, "that your manner is most arrogant? That you demand my help as if it were a duty I owed you, and you, like all the others, jealously refuse to free me by asking a fourth question? Do you wonder that I regard your problems with detachment? Have you reflected an instant upon my yearnings? No, you exploit me and my power as you might use a horse to draw a load; you chide and domineer as if by some heroic deed you had earned the right to command me, when in fact, you stole me in the most furtive manner from King Casmir; do you still choose to hector me?"
After a confused moment Aillas spoke in a subdued voice: "Your complaints for the most part are fair. Still, at this moment, I am driven to find my son to the exclusion of all else.
"Therefore, Persilian, I must repeat my charge: give me in full detail a response to this question: "How may I bring my son into my care and custody?"
Persilian spoke in a heavy voice: "Ask Murgen." Aillas jumped back from the stump in a fury. With great effort he kept his voice even: "That is not a proper response."
"It is good enough," said Persilian airily. "Our urgencies drive us in different directions. Should you choose to ask another question, by all means, do so."
Aillas turned the mirror around, to face across the meadow. He pointed. "Look! In the field yonder is an old well. Time may have little meaning to you, but if I drop you into the well, you will sink into the mud. Soon the well will cave in and you will lie buried, perhaps forever, and that is a duration which must have meaning for you."
"It is a subject which you do not understand," said Persilian, still using a lofty tone. "I remind you that brevity is the essence of wisdom. Since you seem dissatisfied, I will expand upon my instructions. The fairies will give you nothing unless they receive a gift in payment. You have nothing to offer them. Murgen is a Master Magician. He lives at Swer Smod under Mount Gaboon in the Teach tac Teach. Along the way are dangers. At Sinkings Gap you must pass under a boulder balanced on a pin. You must kill the guardian raven, or he will drop a feather to topple the boulder on your head. At the River Siss an old woman with a fox's head and a chicken's legs will ask you to carry her across the river. You must act on the instant: cut her in half with your sword and carry each piece over separately. Where the road strikes up Mount Gaboon you will encounter a pair of bearded gryphs. Give each a comb of honey coming and going, which you have brought for the purpose. In front of Swer Smod, call out three times in this fashion: 'Murgen!
It is I, Prince Aillas of Troicinet!' When you meet Murgen be not awed; he is a man like yourself—not genial, but not without justice. Listen to his instructions; obey them exactly. I include a final advice, that I may be spared any more reproaches. Will you ride a horse?"
"That is my plan."
"Stable your horse at the village Oswy Undervale before you arrive at the River Siss; otherwise it will eat a maddening herb and throw you into the rocks."
"That is valuable advice." Aillas looked longingly back toward Madling Meadow. "It would seem altogether preferable to deal with the fairies now, rather than first visiting Murgen by dangerous ways."