He heard a cry later and whirled round, hoping it was the woman he loved. But it was not. It was a tall, grim-faced man in a black gown, striding across the fields toward them, his gray hair blowing in the breeze. The doctor approached him and they began to converse, looking often at Corum, who stood watching them. There was a dispute between them and both became angrier. The newcomer pointed a long, accusing finger at Corum and waved his other hand.
Corum felt trepidation, wishing he had brought his sword with him.
Suddenly the man in the robe turned and marched back toward the town, leaving the doctor frowning and rubbing at his jowl.
Corum became nervous, sensing that something was wrong, that the man in the robe objected to his presence in the town, was suspicious of his peculiar physical appearance. And the man in the robe also seemed to have more authority than the doctor. And far less sympathy for Corum.
Head bowed, the doctor moved toward Corum. He raised his head, his lips pursed. He murmured something in his own language, speaking to Corum as a man might speak to a pet for which he had great affection-a pet which was about to be killed or sent away.
Corum decided that he must have his armor and weapons at once. He pointed toward the town and began to walk back. The doctor followed, still deep in worried thought
Back in the doctor's house Corum donned his silver byrnie, his silver greaves, and his silver helm. He buckled on his long strong sword and looped his bow, his arrows, and his lance upon his back. He realized that he looked more incongruous than ever, but he also felt more secure. He looked out of the window at the street. Night was falling. Only a few people walked in the town now. He left the room and went down the stairs to the main door of the house. The doctor shouted at him and tried to stop him from leaving, but Corum gently brushed him aside, opened the latch, and went out.
The doctor called to him-a warning cry. But Corum ignored it, both because he did not need to be warned of potential danger and also because he did not see why the kindly man should share his danger. He strode into the night.
Few saw him. None stopped him or even tried to do so, though they peered curiously at him and laughed among themselves, evidently taking him for an idiot. It was better that they laughed at him than feared him, or else the danger would have been much increased, thought Corum.
He strode through the streets for some time until he came to a partially ruined house which had been deserted. He decided that he would make this his resting place for the night, hiding here until he could think of his next action.
He stumbled through the broken door and rats fled as he entered. He climbed the swaying staircase until he came to a room with a window through which he could observe the street. He was hardly aware of his own reasons for leaving the doctor's house, save that he did not wish to become involved with the man in the robe. If they were seriously trying to find him, then, of course, they would discover him soon enough. But if they had a little superstition, they might think he had vanished as mysteriously as he had arrived.
He settled down to sleep, ignoring the sound the rats made.
He woke at dawn and peered down into the street. This seemed to be the main street of the city and it was already alive with tradesmen and others, some with donkeys or horses, others with handcarts, calling out greetings to each other.
He smelled fresh bread and began to feel hungry, but curbed his impulse, when a baker's cart stopped immediately beneath nun, to sneak out and steal a loaf. He dozed again. When it was night, he would try to find a horse and leave the city behind him, seek other towns where there might be news of Rhalina or Jhary.
Toward midday he heard a great deal of cheering in the street and he edged his way to the window.
There were flags waving and a band of some sort was playing raucous music. A procession was marching through the streets-a martial procession by the look of it, for many of the riders were undoubtably warriors in their steel breastplates and with their swords and lances.
In the middle of the procession, hardly acknowledging the crowd's cheers, was the man who was the object of their celebration. He rode a big yellow horse and he wore a high-collared red cloak which at first hid his face from Corum. There was a hat on his head, a sword at his side. He was frowning a little.
Then Corum saw with mild surprise that the man's left hand was missing. He clutched his reins in a specially made hook device. The warrior turned his head and Corum was this time completely astonished. He gasped, for the man on the yellow horse had an eye patch over his right eye. And, though his face was of the Mabden cast, he bore a strong resemblance to Corum.
Corum stood up, about to cry out to the man who was almost his double. But then he felt a hand close over his mouth and strong arms bear him down to the floor.
He wrenched his head about to see who attacked him. His eyes widened.
"Jhary!" he said. "So you are on this plane! And Rhalina? Have you see her?"
The dandy, who was dressed in the clothes of the local inhabitants, shook his head. "I have not. I had hoped that you and she stayed together. You have made yourself conspicuous here, I gather."
"Do you know this plane?"
"I know it vaguely. I can speak one or two of their languages."
"And the man on the yellow horse-who is he?"
"He is the reason why you should leave here as soon as possible. He is yourself, Corum. He is your incarnation on this plane in this age. And it goes against all the laws of the cosmos that you and he should occupy the same plane at the same time. We are in great danger, Corum, but these folk could also be in danger if we continue-however unwittingly-to disrupt the order, the very balance of the multiverse."
The Fourth Chapter
THE MANOR IN THE FOREST
"You know this world, Jhary?"
The dandy put a finger to his lips and drew Corum into the shadows as the parade went by. "I know most worlds," he murmured, "but this less well then many. The sky ship's destruction flung us through time as well as through the dimensions and we are marooned in a world whose logic is in most cases essentially different. Secondly our 'selves' exist here and we therefore threaten to upset the fine balance of this age and, doubtless, others, too. To create paradoxes in a world not used to them would be dangerous, you see…"
"Then let us leave this world with all speed! Let us find Rhalina and go!"
Jhary smiled. "We cannot leave an age and a plane as we would leave a room, as you well know. Besides, I do not believe Rhalina to be here if she has not been seen. But that can be discovered. There used to be a lady not far from here who was something of a seeress. I am hoping that she will help us. The folk of this age have an uncommon respect for people like ourselves-though often that respect turns to hatred and they hound us. You know you are sought by a priest who wants to burn you at the stake?"
"I knew a man disliked me."
Jhary laughed. "Aye-disliked you enough to want to torture you to death. He is a dignitary of their religion. He has great power and has already called out warriors to search for you. We must get horses as soon as possible."
Jhary paced the rickety floor, stroking his chin. "We must return to the Fifteen Planes with all speed. We have no right to be here…"
"And no wish to be," Corum reminded him.
Outside the sound of pipes and drums faded and the crowd began to disperse.
"I remember her name now!" Jhary muttered. He snapped his fingers. "It is the Lady Jane Pentallyon and she dwells in a house close to a village called Warleggon."
"These are strange names, Jhary-a-Conel!"
"No stranger than ours are to them. We must make speed for Warleggon as soon as possible and we must pray that Lady Jane Pentallyon is in residence and has not, herself, been burned by now."