"So: how will Dhrun's eyes be cured?"
"Not by fairy lore," said King Rhodion. "It lies beyond our craft."
"Then you must concede another boon."
"I want nothing," said Dhrun, in a stony voice. "They can give me only what they took."
Shimrod turned to Glyneth, "You hold the hat, and you may ask a boon."
"What?" cried King Rhodion. "This is the sheerest extortion!
Did I not waft King Throbius here and dissolve the mordet?"
"You mended a harm of your own making. That is no boon; that is mere justice and where are the amends for his suffering?"
"He wants none, and we never give what is not wanted."
"Glyneth holds the hat; you must gratify her wishes." Everyone turned to look at Glyneth. Shimrod asked her; "What do you wish most?"
"I want only to travel with you and Dhrun in this wagon forever."
Shimrod said, "But remember, all things change and we will not ride the wagon forever."
"Then I want to be with you and Dhrun forever."
"That is the future," said Rhodion. "It lies beyond my control, unless you wish me to kill the three of you at this instant and bury you together under the wagon."
Glyneth shook her head. "But you can help me. My cats often disobey and ignore my instructions. If I could talk with them, they could not pretend to misunderstand. I'd also like to talk with horses and birds and all other living things: even the trees and flowers, and the insects'."
King Rhodion grunted. "Trees and flowers neither talk nor listen.
They only sigh among themselves. The insects would terrify you, if you heard their speech, and cause you nightmares."
"Then I can speak with birds and animals?"
"Take the lead amulet from my hat, wear it around your neck, and you will have your wish. Do not expect profound insights; birds and animals are usually foolish."
"Sneezer and Smirrish are clever enough," said Glyneth. "I will probably enjoy our conversations."
"Very well then," said portly King Rhodion. He took the hat from Glyneth's loose fingers, and, with wary attention for Shimrod, clapped it on his head. "The game is done; once again I have been outwitted by the mortals, though this time it has been almost a pleasure. Throbius, return as you will to Thripsey and I am away to Shadow Thawn."
King Throbius held up his hand. "One last matter. Perhaps I can make amends for the mordet. Dhrun, listen to me. Many months ago a young knight came to Thripsey Shee and demanded to know all knowledge concerning his son Dhrun. We exchanged gifts: for me a jewel of the color smaudre; for him a Never-fail pointing steadfast toward yourself. Has he not found you? Then he has been thwarted, or even killed, since his resolution was clear."
Dhrun spoke huskily: "What was his name?"
"He was Sir Aillas, a prince of Troitinet. I go." His form became tenuous, then disappeared. His voice came as if from far away: "I am gone."
King Rhodion paused on his spindle shanks, walked back around the front of the wagon. "And another small matter, for Glyneth's attention. The amulet is my seal; wearing it you need fear no harm from halflings: neither fairy nor imp, nor troll, nor doubletroll.
Beware ghosts and horse-heads, gray and white ogres, and things which live under the mire."
King Rhodion passed around the front of the wagon. When the three followed he was nowhere to be seen.
Glyneth went for her cat-basket, which she had stowed on the wagon's front seat, to find that Smirrish had pried the cover ajar and had almost gained his liberty.
Glyneth cried out: "Smirrish, this is sheer wickedness; you know that you are supposed to stay in the basket."
Smirrish said: "It is hot and stuffy inside. I prefer the open air, and I plan to explore the roof of the wagon."
"All very well, but now you must dance and entertain the folk who watch you in admiration."
"If they admire me so much, let them do their own dancing. Sneezer is equally earnest in this regard. We only dance to please you."
"That is sensible, since I feed you the finest milk and fish.
Surly cats must make do with bread and water."
Sneezer, listening from within the basket, called out quickly,
"Have no fear! If dance we must, then dance we will, though for the life of me, I can't understand why. I care not a fig for those who stop to watch."
The sun died on a couch of sultry clouds; outriders slid overhead to cover the evening sky and darkness came quickly to Long Danns'
common. Dozens of small fires flickered and guttered in the cool damp breeze, and the peddlers, merchants and booth-tenders huddled over their suppers, eyes askance at the dismal sky, dreading the prospect of a rain which would drench them and their wares.
At the fire behind their wagon sat Shimrod, Glyneth and Dhrun, waiting for the soup to cook. The three sat absorbed in private thoughts: a silence finally broken by Shimrod. "The day has certainly been of interest."
"It could have been worse and it could have been better," said Glyneth. She looked at Dhrun, who sat, arms clenching knees, staring sightlessly into the fire; but he had nothing to say.
"We've removed the curse, so at least we'll have no more bad luck.
It won't be good luck, of course, until Dhrun can see again."
Shimrod fed the fire with fresh fuel. "I've searched across Dahaut for the man with the sore knees—this you know. If I don't find him at Avallon Fair we'll travel to Swer Smod in Lyonesse. If anyone can help it will be Murgen."
"Dhrun!" whispered Glyneth. "You mustn't cry!"
"I'm not crying."
"Yes, you are. Tears are running down your cheeks." Dhrun blinked and put his wrist to his face. "Without you two to help me I'd starve, or the dogs would eat me."
"We wouldn't let you starve." Glyneth put her arm around his shoulders. "You're an important boy, and the son of a prince.
Someday you'll be a prince as well."
"I hope so."
"So then, eat your soup, and you'll feel better. I notice also a nice slice of melon waiting for you."
Chapter 26
CARFILHIOT'S CHAMBERS, at the top of Tintzin Fyral, were of modest dimension, with white plaster walls, scrubbed wooden floors and a bare sufficiency of furnishing. Carfilhiot wanted nothing more elaborate; that spare environment soothed his sometimes overfervent nature.
Carfilhiot's routines were even. He tended to rise early, often at sun-up, then take a breakfast of fruit, sweet-cakes, raisins and perhaps a few pickled oysters. Always he breakfasted alone. At this time of day the sight and sound of other human beings offended him, and adversely affected the rest of the day.
Summer was changing to autumn; haze blurred the airy spaces over Vale Evander. Carfilhiot felt restless and uneasy, for reasons he could not define. Tintzin Fyral served many of his purposes very well; still it was a place remote: something of a backwater, and he had no command over that motility which other magicians, perhaps of higher order—Carfilhiot thought of himself as a magician—used daily as a matter of course. His fancies, escapades, novelties and caprices—perhaps they were no more than illusions.
Time passed and despite his apparent activity, he had proceeded not a whit along the way to his goals. Had his enemies—or his friends—arranged to keep him isolated and ineffectual? Carfilhiot gave a petulant grunt. It could not be, but if so, such folk played dangerous games.
A year previously Tamurello had conveyed him to Faroli, that odd structure of wood and colored glass, deep within the forest. After three days of erotic play the two sat listening to the rain and watching the fire on the hearth. The time was midnight.
Carfilhiot, whose mercurial mind never went quiet, said: "Truly, it is time that you taught me magical arts. Do I not deserve at least this from vou?"
Tamurello spoke with a sigh. "What a strange and unfamiliar world if everyone were treated according to his deserts!"