"Stay with me, Corum, for I need your comforting now.”
He paused, looked back at her suspiciously.
"Please, Corum, I believe that I love you."
He frowned. "Love? Between Vadhagh and Mabden? Love of that kind?" He shook his head. "Impossible. There could be no issue."
"No children, I know. But love gives birth to other things…”
"I do not understand you."
"I am sorry," she said. "I was selfish. I am taking advantage of you." She sat up in bed. "I have slept with no one else since my husband went away. I am not used…”
Corum studied her body. It moved him and yet it should not have. It was unnatural for one species to feel such emotion for another…
He reached down and kissed her breast. She clasped his head. They sank, again, into the sheets, making gentle love, learning of one another as only those truly in love may.
After some hours, she said to him, "Corum, you are the last of your race. I will never see my people again, save for those retainers who are here. It is peaceful in this castle. There is little that would disturb that peace. Would you not consider staying here with me-at least for a few months?"
"I have sworn to avenge the deaths of my folk," he reminded her softly, and kissed her cheek.
"Such oaths are not true to your nature, Corum. You are one who would rather love than hate, I know."
"I cannot answer that," he replied, "for I will not consider my life fulfilled unless I destroy Glandyth-a-Krae. This wish is not so hate-begotten as you might think. I feel, perhaps, like one who sees a disease spreading through a forest. One hopes to cut out the diseased plants so that the others may grow straight and live. That is my feeling concerning Glandyth-a-Krae. He has formed the habit of frilling. Now that he has killed all the Vadhagh, he will want to kill others. If he finds no more strangers, he will begin to kill those wretches who occupy the villages ruled by Lyr-a-Brode. Fate has given me the impetus I need to pursue this attitude of mine to its proper conclusion, Rhalina."
"But why go from here now? Sooner or later we will receive news concerning this Glandyth. When that moment arrives, then you can set forth to exact your vengeance."
He pursed his lips. "Perhaps you are right."
"And you must learn to do without your hand and your eye," she said. "That will take much practice, Corum."
"True."
"So stay here, with me."
"I will agree to this much, Rhalina. I will make no decision for a few more days."
And Corum made no decision for a month. After the horror of his encounters with the Mabden raiders, his brain needed time to heal and this was difficult with the constant reminder of his injuries every time he automatically tried to use his left hand or glimpsed his reflection.
When not with him, Rhalina spent much of her time in the castle's library, but Corum had no taste for reading. He would walk about the battlements of the castle or take a horse and ride over the causeway at low tide (though Rhalina was perturbed by this for fear that he would fail prey to one of the Pony Tribes, which occasionally ranged the area) and ride for a while among the trees.
And though the darkness in his mind became less noticeable as the pleasant days passed, it still remained. And Corum would sometimes pause in the middle of some action or stop when he witnessed some scene that reminded him of his home, the Castle Erorn.
The Margravine's castle was called simply Moidel's Castle and was raised on an island called Moidel’s Mount, after the name of the family that had occupied it for centuries. It was full of interesting things. There were cabinets of porcelain and ivory figurines, rooms filled with curiosities taken at different times from the sea, chambers in which arms and armor were displayed, paintings (crude by Corum's standards) depicting scenes from the history of Lywm-an-Esh, as well as scenes taken from the legends and folktales of that land, which was rich in them. Such strange imaginings were rare amongst the Vadhagh, who had been a rational people, and they fascinated Corum. He came to realize that many of the stories concerning magical lands and weird beasts were derived from some knowledge of the other planes. Obviously the other planes had been glimpsed and the legend makers had speculated freely from the fragments of knowledge thus gained. It amused Corum to trace a wild folktale back to its rather more mundane source, particularly where these folktales concerned the Old Races-the Vadhagh and the Nhad-ragh-to whom were attributed the most alarming range of supernatural powers. He was also, by this study, offered some insight concerning the attitudes of the Mabden of the East, who seemed to have lived in awe of the Old Races before they had discovered that they were mortal and could be slain easily. It seemed to Corum that the vicious genocide engaged upon by these Mabden was partly caused by their hatred of the Vadhagh for not being the great seers and sorcerers the Mabden had originally thought them to be.
But this line of thought brought back the memories and the sorrow and the hatred, and Corum would become depressed, sometimes for days, and even Rhalina's love could not console Him then.
But then one day he inspected a tapestry in a room he had not previously visited and it absorbed his attention as he looked at the pictures and studied the embroidered text.
This was a complete legend telling of the adventures of Mag-an-Mag, a popular folk hero. Mag-an-Mag had been returning from a magical land when his boat had been set upon by pirates. These pirates had cut off Mag-an-Mag's arms and legs and thrown him overboard, then they had cut off the head of his companion, Jhakor-Neelus, and tossed his body after that of his master, but kept the head, apparently to eat. Eventually Mag-an-Mag's limbless body had been washed up on the shore of a mysterious island and Jhakor-Neelus's headless body had arrived at a spot a little further up the beach. These bodies were found by the servants of a magician who, in return for Mag-an-Mag's services against his enemies, offered to put back his limbs and make him as good as new. Mag-an-Mag had accepted on condition that the sorcerer find Jhakor-Neelus a new head. The sorcerer had agreed and furnished Jhakor-Neelus with the head of a crane, which seemed to please everyone. The pair then left the island loaded down with the sorcerer's gifts and went on to fight his enemies.
Corum could find no origin for this legend in the knowledge of his own folk. It did not seem to fit with the others.
At first he dismissed his obsession with the legend as being fired by his own wish to get back the hand and the eye he had lost, but he remained obsessed.
Feeling embarrassed by his own interest, he said nothing of the legend to Rhalina for several weeks.
Autumn came to Moidel's Castle and with it a warm wind that stripped the trees bare and lashed the sea against the rocks and drove many of the birds away to seek a more restful clime.
And Corum began to spend more and more time in the room where hung the tapestry concerning Mag-an-Mag and the wonderful sorcerer. Corum began to realize that it was the text that chiefly interested him. It seemed to speak with an authority that was elsewhere lacking in the others he had seen.
But he still could not bring himself to tax Rhalina with questions concerning it.
Then, on one of the first days of winter, she sought for him, and found him in the room and she did not seem surprised. However, she did show a certain concern, as if she had feared that he would find the tapestry sooner or later.
"You seem absorbed by the amusing adventures of Mag-an-Mag," she said. "They are only tales. Something to entertain us."
"But this one seems different," Corum said.
He turned to look at her. She was biting her lip.
"So it is different, Rhalina," Corum murmured. "You do know something about it!"
She began to shake her head, then changed her mind. "I know only what the old tales say. And the old tales are lies, are they not? Pleasing lies."