Corum smiled. "I know how I should feel if two young girls had been responsible for tearing me suddenly away from all I knew and cared for and had then told me that they had only been playing a game and could not send me back!"
And the Lady Jane smiled in reply. "Aye. Well, by and by Gerane-that was one of his names-became reconciled to some degree and he and I fell in love and were happy for a short while. Sadly, I had not accounted for the fact that Aireda was also in love with Gerane." She sighed. "I had dreamed of being Guinevere, of Isolde, of other heroines of romance, but I had forgotten that all these women were the victims of tragedy in the end. Our tragedy began to play itself out and at first I was not aware of it. Jealousy took power over Aireda and she grew to hate first me and then Gerane. She would plan revenges on us of varying sorts, but they were never completely satisfying to her. She had heard that Gerane's people had enemies -another race with bleaker souls-and she had guessed that one of her mother's rituals had to do with summoning members of this race-other demons, her mother had thought. Her first attempts were unsuccessful, but she absorbed herself in remembering every detail of those old spells."
"She conjured up Gerane's enemies?"
"Aye. Three of them came one night into the house. She was their first victim, for they hate humans as much as they hate elves-your folk. Shambling, awkward, poorly fashioned creatures they were, completely unlike your folk, Prince Corum. We should call them trolls or some such name."
"And what did they do after they had slain Aireda?"
"She was not slain, but badly wounded, for it was in conversation with her later that I learned what she had done…"
"And Gerane?"
"He had no sword. He had come with none. He had needed none in the Manor in the Forest."
"He was killed?"
"He heard the noise in the hall and came down to see what caused it. They butchered him there, by the door." She pointed. The tears shone on her cheeks now. "They cut him into sections, my elfin love…" She lowered her head.
Corum got up and went to comfort the old, beautiful Lady Jane Pentallyon. She gripped his mortal hand just once and had once again contained her grief. She straightened her back. "The-trolls-did not remain in the house. Doubtless they were confused by what had happened to them. They ran off into the night."
"Do you know what became of them?" Jhary asked.
"I heard several years later that beasts resembling men had begun to terrorize the folk of Exmoor and had eventually been taken and had stakes driven through their hearts, for they were thought to be the Devil's spawn. But the story spoke of only two, so perhaps one still lives in some lonely spot, still unaware of what had happened to him or where he is. I feel a certain sympathy for him…"
"Do not grieve yourself, lady, by any further telling of this tale," said Corum gently.
"Since then," she went on, "I have concerned myself with the study of old wisdom. I learned something from Gerane and I have since spoken with various men and women who reckon themselves versed in the mystic arts. It was my hope, once, to seek the plane of Gerane's people, but it is evident now that our planes are no longer in conjunction, for I have learned enough to know that the planes circle as some say the planets circle about each other. I have learned a little of the art of seeing into the future and the past, into other planes, as Gerane's folk could…"
"My folk also possess something of that art," said Corum in confirmation of her questioning glance, "but we have been losing it of late and can do nothing now beyond see into the five planes which comprise our realm."
"Aye." She nodded. "I cannot explain why these powers wax and wane as they do."
"It is something to do with the gods," said Jhary. "Or our belief in them, perhaps."
"Your second sight gave you a glimpse into the future and that is how you knew we were seeking your help," Corum said.
Again she nodded.
"So you know that we are trying to return to our own age, where urgent deeds are necessary?"
"Aye."
"Can you help us?"
"I know of one who can put you on the road which leads to the achievement of that desire, but he can do no more."
"A sorcerer?"
"Of sorts. He, like you, is not of this age. Like you, he seeks constantly to return to his own world. He can move easily through the few centuries bordering this time, but he seeks to travel many millenia and that he cannot do."
"Is his name Bolorhiag?" asked Jhary suddenly. " An old man with a withered leg?"
"You describe the man, but to us he is known merely as the Friar, for he is inclined to wear clerical garb since this offers him the greatest protection in the periods of history he visits."
"It is Bolorhiag," said Jhary. "Another lost one. There are a few such souls who are whisked about the multiverse in this manner. Sometimes they are not at fault at all, but have been plucked, willy-nilly, by whatever winds they are which blow through the dimensions. Others, like Bolorhiag, are experimenters-sorcerers, scientists, scholars, call them what you will-who have understood something of the nature of time and space but not enough to protect themselves. They, too, find themselves blown by those winds. There are also, as you know, ones like me who appear to be natural dwellers in the whole multiverse-or there are heroes, like yourself, Corum, who are doomed to move from age to age and plane to plane, from identity to identity, fighting for the cause of Law. And there are women of a certain sort, like yourself, Lady Jane, who love these heroes. And there are malicious ones who hate them. What object there is to this myriad of existences I know not and it is probably better that we know nothing of them…"
Lady Jane nodded gravely. "I think you are right, Sir Jhary, for the more one discovers, the less point there seems in life at all. However, we are concerned not with philosophy but with immediate problems. I have sent out a summoning for the Friar and hope that he hears it and comes-it is not always the case. Meanwhile I have a gift for you, Prince Corum, for I feel that it may be useful to you. It appears that there is a mighty conjunction about to take place in the multiverse, when for a moment in tune all ages and all planes will meet. I have never heard of such a thing before. That is part of my gift, the information. The Other part is this…" From a thong around her neck she now drew out a slender object which though of a milky white color also sparkled with every color in the spectrum. It Was a knife carved of a crystal which Corum had never seen before.
"Is it…?" he began.
She inclined her head to remove the thong. "It is the witch knife which brought Gerane to me. It will, I think, bring aid to you when you need it greatly. It will call your brother to you…"
"My brother? I have no-"
"I was told this," she said. "And I can add nothing to it. But here is the witch knife. Please take it."
Corum accepted it and placed the thong around his own neck. "Thank you, lady."
"Another will tell you when and how to use it," she said. "And now, gentlemen, will you rest here at the Manor in the Forest, until such time as the Friar may present himself to us?"
"We should be honored," said Corum. "But tell me, lady, if you know anything of the woman I love, for we are separated. I speak of the Lady Rhalina of Allomglyl and I fear much for her safety."
The Lady Jane frowned, "There was something concerning a woman which came momentarily into my head. I have the feeling that if you succeed in your present quest, then you will succeed in being reunited with her. If you fail, then you shall never see her again."