It was growing very dark under the trees, and the horses began to stumble on the ruinous road. Another hour of riding brought them to an opening. Midway along it and fairly close to the road, a thatched hut stood in the inadequate moonlight. One window was lighted.
«The castle of Busyrane,» remarked Dolon.
«It seems somewhat. uh. exiguous,» offered Chalmers timidly.
«Ho-ho! You know not our Archimage, who is a master of show and illusion, and sets such gulls to catch the unwary. Do but watch.»
As Dolon spoke the moon was blotted out. Shea heard a flutter of wings. Something brushed past his face. There was a sensation of insectlike crawling on his left hand that made him snatch it from the bridle. A long, low ululating shriek rose from out of the dark. The horse quivered uncertainly beneath him. Its hoofs clacked on stone in the velvet black. Down at stirrup level a face appeared. It had huge, drooping ears and ragged teeth fixed in a permanent grin above the pendulous lower lip. There was no source of light for it to be seen by, nothing but that face floating by itself.
«The master makes you welcome and bids you dismount,» mouthed the face indistinctly.
A clawlike hand reached up to help Shea from his mount. Though by now well inured to shocks, he could not help a shiver at the clammy cold touch. Dolon chuckled behind him. He shook off the horrors and followed the guidance of the corpselike fingers down a corridor of utter dark. Something rustled, and he caught the sickening odour of cockatrice. A door closed. He was standing in a big room, blinking in a flood of light, with the other two beside him.
An elderly man, wearing a palmer’s robe like Chalmers’, came forward to greet them. He smiled graciously. «Welcome, good Dolon! To what fortunate chance owe we your presence here before the meeting?»
«To the same chance that brings me here with these two stout fellows, whom I rescued but today from Artegall’s curst clutches.» This version was a trifle startling, but Shea had the sense to lay low as Dolon described his thrilling rescue of Shea and Chalmers. He went on: «Most noble Archimage, a plan has occurred to me. As you know, people are good enough to say that I have a talent for plans amounting almost to genius.»
«Surely, noble Archimage, you are sib to the fact that you are but one and cannot be all places at once. As it stands, you head the Chapter well; but it is a professional guild. It prevents our cutting each other’s throats by competition, but no more. What we need is an organization that will work together as the Faerie knights work together. It would be as though our mastership were composed of twenty-one Busyranes. Gloriana’s government would have ill hap against it, eh?»
«By the favour of fortune, I fell in with these two, desirous of admission to the Chapter. With that skill at judging character for which I am well known, I saw at once that they were experts in exactly the form of organization we need, I present you, therefore, Reed de Chalmers, magician, and Harold de Shea, apprentice, as worthy members of our society. In magic, their art is the conjuration of singular and unheard of beasts. The Blatant One himself has fled before their spells.»
«Enchanted magical sirs,» said Busyrane, with a polite bow. «Your application shall receive the most earnest attention. We presume, good Dolon, you have heard the sad news?»
«That I have I not.»
«Poor Malvigen is slain — spitted with an arrow by that she-devil Belphebe.»
«The curst vile tripping wench!» Dolon turned to Shea and Chalmers. «Magical sirs I ask you, is this not a hard thing? Here’s a man who spent a lifetime in the study and practice of magic; Malvigen. Made himself a great specialist in erotic dreams, excelling even the great Dolon in that one art. Now he’s snuffed out in a second, like a wild boar, and for why? Because his attainments violate what those at the court choose to call morality.»
* * *
Shea woke from a dream of being shrunk to a statue of one inch and swallowed by a snake. His clothes lay over a chair. They had evidently been given a magical laundering and mending, since they looked as good as new, in contrast to their worn and dirty state of the previous evening.
Chalmers came in. His clothes also were clean, and he looked younger than Shea remembered having seen him. He burst out: «I’ve found Florimel!»
«Shh! For Pete’s sake not so loud. Tell me about it.»
«She was walking on the battlements. Really, this place is quite large when seen by daylight. Busyrane was most affable. It appears he intends to use her for the object — perfectly legitimate from his point of view — of causing dissension —»
«Okay, Doc. Okay! I get it. You’re all excited. What did you really find out? Who is this Florimel, anyhow?»
«She was. uh. manufactured out of snow by a person called the Witch of Riphoea, as a duplicate or double of the genuine Florimel, who seems to have disappeared. Busyrane tells me it is at least theoretically possible to find a magical spell that will endow her with a genuine human body. He was most kind, most kind. I am afraid we may have misjudged —»
«Yeah. He promised he’d help you fix her up, I suppose.»
Chalmers was suddenly dignified. «As a matter of fact, he did. But I cannot see how this affects —»
Shea jumped up. «Oh, my God! Next thing you’ll be selling out to the magicians and letting Gloriana’s crowd go chase themselves — as long as you can make this snow girl.»
«That’s not fair, Harold! After all, you were the one who insisted that we go ahead with our campaign, when I was willing to —»
«Yeah? Who had the bright idea of getting pally with the magicians in the first place? Who got up this marvellous plan —»
«Young man, let me tell you that you’re grossly unreasonable as well as grossly reckless. You’ve placed us in one predicament after another by getting into fights for no good reason. You force my hand by making me use spells before I’ve tried them out. Now, when I wish to embark on a really important scientific experiment —»
«I suppose it never occurred to you that Busyrane might be trying to suck you in to work for him by means of this girl. He controls her, and —»
«Shh! You needn’t shout!»
«I’m not shouting!» roared Shea.
A knock on the door made them both go silent. «Uh. ahem. come in!» said Chalmers.
Busyrane stood on the threshold, rubbing his hands.
«Good morrow, magical sirs. We heard your conversation and bethought us there might be something our humble household might supply or our feeble powers obtain for your use.»
Chalmers made a good recovery. «We were wondering — You know, the job of providing organization requires a special. uh. methodology. The science of combinational magic. uh. uh —»
Shea took over. «What we mean is, could we have the loan of some laboratory facilities?»
«Oh, certes, that lies within our gift. We have a disused chamber that would admirably serve. A few prisoners, even, on which you may experiment. We shall be happy, also, to furnish you with a cockatrice. If your honours will have the goodness to follow our poor person —»
* * *
«When the head enchanter had left them, Shea and Chalmers drew deep breaths. They had watched him for the least sign of suspicion, but he had displayed none — so far.»
Chalmers said: «Let me offer my apologies for. uh. my hastiness.»
«That’s all right, Doc. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle. And I’m sorry for running you ragged by being reckless.»
They shook hands like a pair of shame-faced small boys. «What’s the programme now?» asked Shea.