Visbhume watched the sun setting into the Lir. A breeze from the west had blown up trains of steep waves, each with a crest of white foam, and Visbhume turned away with a shudder. Were Tamurello truly a good and faithful comrade, he would have provided Visbhume means of quick transit from place to place, so that Visbhume might travel without suffering the heaving, sliding, toppling, wallowing motion of a ship, nor yet the staid gait of a sway-backed white mare.
Visbhume reflected upon the cache of magical apparatus which he had stored in Dahaut. Some of the simpler items functioned in a manner which he understood. Others, like Twitten's Almanac, might well respond to his closer investigation. The use of other objects and adjuncts remained beyond his present capabilities. Still, who could say? Among these items might be an effectuant to provide Visbhume the swift and easy transit for which he yearned so deeply,
Visbhume came to a firm decision. In the morning, instead of taking ship for Troicinet, as King Casmir might well have preferred, he rode up the Sfer Arct to the north, then off at a slant to Old Street, then east to Icnield Way, north through Pomperol into Dahaut. Arriving at the village Glimwillow, he went to a secret place and retrieved the large brass-bound chest containing the goods which he had taken away from Maule.
Visbhume lodged himself in a private chamber at the Sign of the Mandrake, and for three days worked among the contents of the chest. When at last he returned south along Icnield Way, he carried a yellow leather wallet containing a variety of those articles he deemed most accessible to his use, and a few others of fascinating potentiality, like Twitten's Almanac. He found no obvious device or methed by which he might be conveyed at speed directly to Troicinet, or elsewhere, and so rode the stately white mare as before. At Slute Skeme he sold the white mare and with many misgivings took passage aboard a lumbering cargo vessel bound for Domreis.
Three days of cautious inquiry at last yielded information that, in the absence of Prince Dhrun—now making a ceremonial visit to Dascinet—the Princess Glyneth had taken herself off to Watershade.
In the morning Visbhume set off along the coast road. A storm of roaring winds and driving rain persuaded him to break his journey at the town Hag's Head, under Cape Haze, where he took lodging at the Three Lampreys. To pass the time he composed himself to a study of Twitten's Almanac, and became so enthralled by the vistas of opportunity suddenly displayed before his imagination that he extended his visit another day, and yet another, and another, even though the weather had once again become fine.
Meanwhile, the Three Lampreys was comfortable and convenient; Visbhume ate well, drank well, and sat long hours in the sunshine, pondering Twitten's wonderful calculations and the no less remarkable conversion of theory into fact. Visbhume called for ink, quill and parchment, and attempted calculations of his own, to the wondering curiosity of others at the inn, who at last decided him to be an astrologer calculating the moods, surges and retrogressions of the several planets: a conjecture which pleased Visbhume and which he took no pains to disabuse.
Visbhume enjoyed other activities as well. He dozed in the sunlight, took short strolls along the shore, and tried to induce the serving maids to accompany him on these strolls. He was especially interested in the flaxen-haired butter-and-milk girl, whose body, despite her youth, had started to show a number of appealing aspects.
Visbhume's interest in her attributes became so forthright that the inn-keeper came out to chide him: "You, sir, I must ask you to mend your ways! These little maids do not know how to cope with your lewdness. I have told them to throw a good drench of cold water on you if you fondle them again."
Visbhume said haughtily: "Fellow, you are presuming far out of your place!"
"That is as may be. In any case, let us have no more of your leers and probing fingers and invitations down the shore."
"This is sheer insolence!" stormed Visbhume. "Be warned! I am almost prompted to take my custom elsewhere!"
"Do as you like; there will be no grief at Three Lampreys! Truth to tell, with your constant tapping and prancing of the feet, you are alarming my regulars; they think you a natural and as I reflect on it, so do I. By the statutes of law I cannot turn you out unless you commit a nuisance, and you have veered yourself very close. Beware!"
Visbhume declared in all dignity: "Innkeeper, you are surly and dull. The girls enjoy my little play; if not, they would never come so often, lilting and tittling, flirting and showing their things; just so."
"Aha! You will find how they like it when they cool your play with good cold water. Meanwhile, you may also pay your score as of this moment, in case you become suddenly indignant and prance off by night."
"That is a churlish remark to make to a gentleman!"
"No doubt. I am careful never to do so."
"You have offended me," said Visbhume. "I will pay the score and depart your premises at once. As for your gratuity, expect not even a groat."
Visbhume departed and took up residence at the Sea Coral Inn on the other side of town, where he stayed another three days, continuing his studies of the Almanac. At last his calculations prompted him to be off about his affairs. He purchased a small cart drawn by a dainty little pony, which carried him along the road at a spanking pace, with a twinkling clack-clack-clack of varnished hooves. Past the Three Lampreys rode Visbhume, sitting proudly high on the seat, then along the road to Rundle River Valley, up the River Road to Green Man's Gap, over and down upon the Ceald.
VII
A STRANGE SWEET MOOD had come over Glyneth of late. When in the company of her friends, or even with Dhrun, she often would have preferred solitude. And sometimes, when she had slipped away and was truly alone, then: perversity of perversities! an indefinable uneasiness afflicted her, as if somewhere wonderful events were in progress, and there she longed to be, though, poor forlorn girl, she had not been invited and no one even noticed her absence.
Glyneth became wistful and restless. At times fascinating images came to tease her, glimpses less substantial than daydreams, figments and fancies, of madcap revelries by moonlight; of fetes where she was adored by gallant strangers; of drifting over land and sea in a magic ship of the air, in the company of the one she loved most of all and who loved her no less.
With Dhrun gone from Domreis and then- schooling at recess, Glyneth dithered and wavered for a day or so, but without the presence of Dhrun or Aillas, Miraldra held no charm, and she took herself to Watershade, where she resolved that she would read all the books in Ospero's library. She made a brave start, and read Lagronius: his Chronicles, and Memories of Nausicaa and even started to pick her way through The Iliad, but the dreamy moods came on her often, and the books were put aside.
When the lake lay calm and blue in the sunlight, she liked to row out into total solitude and lie back to watch the tall white clouds. There was no sweeter occupation; she seemed to become one with this world she loved so dearly, which was hers to enjoy and possess during her term. And sometimes the feelings became too intense and she rose up quickly, to sit with arms clasped around her knees, blinking back tears for the passing of halcyon moments.
So Glyneth indulged herself with romantic excesses, and at times wondered if someone had cast a glamour upon her. Dame Flora became vaguely worried because her darling Glyneth had not gone out to climb trees or jump fences.
As the days passed, Glyneth began to feel lonely. Occasionally she rode into the village to visit her friend the Lady Alicia at Black Oak Manor; as often she walked into the Wild Woods to pick strawberries.