III

 

 

 

THE CARPET-WOLE COURSED OFF IN A DIRECTION WHICH GLYNETH DECIDED TO CALL EAST, opposite to the point in the sky where she had first noted the black moon. This odd celestial object had already shifted perceptibly, veering toward the north while remaining the same distance above the horizon.

For ten miles the wole ran along the riverbank, with open plains to the south. In the distance a band of long-legged beings took interested note of their passage and even began to make a rather menacing approach, but the wole increased its pace and the creatures lost interest in pursuit.

The river swung away to the north and the wole set off across a seemingly limitless steppe, with short blue grass below and spherical trees scattered at far intervals.

Kul rode forward on the first shoulders of the beast, standing flat-footed with legs somewhat apart. Glyneth, perched high on the cushioned bench of the pergola, sat where she could see in all directions. Had she chosen to do so, she might have stepped down to the rug which covered the wole’s back and walked aft to where Visbhume sat hunched over the wole’s hindquarters, his eyes liquid with resentment for the indignity of the leash around his neck.

For a period Glyneth ignored Visbhume, save for an occasional glance to ensure that he might not be about his crafty tricks. Finally she descended to the rug and went aft. She asked Visbhume: “Is there no night here?”

“None.”

“Then how do we keep time, and know when to sleep?”

“Sleep when you are tired,” snapped Visbhume. “That is the rule. As for keeping time, the black moon must serve as the clock.”

“And how far is Asphrodiske?”

“That is hard to say. Several hundred leagues, perhaps. Twitten has not drawn maps for our ease and delectation.” An idea came into Visbhume’s mind; he blinked and licked his lips. “Still, his surveys are exact. Bring the almanac and I will make the calculations.”

Glyneth ignored the request. She looked to the side, gauging the passing landscape. “At this pace we are surely travelling four or five leagues each hour. Will the wole tire?”

“It wants to rest and eat grass for the same time that it runs.”

“Then in fifty hours it will take us a hundred leagues. That is my reckoning.”

“The reckoning is fair and equable, but accounts neither for dangers nor delays.”

Glyneth looked up at the circling suns. “I am so tired now that I could sleep standing on my feet.”

“I too am tired,” said Visbhume. “Let us stop so that we may refresh ourselves. Tired as I am, I will keep the first watch, so that you and the beast may sleep.”

“ ‘Beast’? Kul?”

“Just so.”

Glyneth went forward to Kul. “Are you tired?”

Kul considered the state of his being. “Yes, I am tired.”

“Should we stop to sleep?”

Kul surveyed the landscape. “I see no urgent threat.”

“Visbhume has kindly offered to take the first watch, so that you and I might sleep in comfort.”

“Ah! Visbhume shows a rare magnanimity!”

“He also knows some dreadful tricks.”

“Just so. Our sleep might be sound and deep—and long. Still, in the harness box I have discovered a fine length of rope, and Visbhume perhaps will oblige us after all.”

Arriving at a spot where two trees grew fifty feet apart, Kul brought the wole to a halt and dropped its anchor.

With eager interest Visbhume inquired: “What now? Do we rest? Shall I keep the first watch? If so, remove this leash, so that I may look right and left with all possible facility.”

“In good time,” said Kul. From the harness box at the back of the pergola he brought a coil of strong rope. He tied one end to one of the trees, then signaled to Visbhume. “Stand exactly here, halfway between the trees.”

With a wincing scowl Visbhume obeyed. Kul removed the leash, knotted the rope around Visbhume’s neck, then, going to the other tree, drew the rope tight so that Visbhume was fixed between the two trees, unable to move in either direction far enough to free himself, even though his arms and legs were free.

Glyneth watched with approval. “Now you must search him well! There are pockets in his sleeves and his trousers and perhaps even his shoes.”

Visbhume cried out in fury: “Am I to be allowed no privacy of person? This sort of search is contrary to every known rule of gentility.”

Kul carefully searched Visbhume’s garments, and it became clear that Glyneth, through diffidence, had failed to search Visbhume with sufficient care. Kul discovered a short tube of unknown employment, a brown box containing what seemed to be a miniature cottage, and in the seams of Visbhume’s pantaloons, two lengths of stiff if resilient steel wire. The inside of Visbhume’s belt yielded a dagger. The boots, the cravat and the gathering of the pantaloons at Visbhume’s bony ankles seemed innocent of contraband.

Glyneth examined the miniature cottage. “This would seem a magic cottage. How is it made large?”

“That is a most valuable property,” said Visbhume. “I do not allow its general use.”

Kul said: “Visbhume, so far your skin is largely whole. You have eaten well and you have ridden on the wole. If these conditions agree with you, answer each question directly and with truth; otherwise you shall come upon a great sadness.”

Visbhume blurted angrily: “Put the miniature on the ground and cry out: ‘House, grow big!’ When you wish it to reduce, cry out: ‘House, grow small!’ ”

Glyneth put the miniature house on the ground and cried out: “House, grow big!” Immediately she was yielded a cottage of comfortable aspect, with smoke already rising from the chimney.

Kul said: “Visbhume, you shall keep first watch, as you so kindly offered. If any tricks are left to you, which I do not doubt, try none of them, since I will be alert.”

Entering the house, Glyneth found a comfortable couch and throwing herself down, fell instantly asleep.

She awakened after an unknown period to find Visbhume sleeping on the ground beside the cottage while Kul sat dozing in the doorway. Glyneth went across the room and stroked the black fur covering his scalp. Kul looked up. “You are awake.”

“I will keep watch. Now you sleep.”

Kul rose from the chair and looked around the room. For a moment Glyneth thought that he might stretch out on the floor, but he lay down on the couch and was at once asleep.

Visbhume presently awoke. Glyneth pretended not to notice. Visbhume studied the situation through eyelids barely slitted open, through which his eyes glinted like the yellow eyes of a fox.

Visbhume studied Glyneth a moment or two. He whispered: “Glyneth!”

Glyneth looked toward him.

Visbhume asked: “Is the creature asleep?”

Glyneth nodded.

Visbhume spoke in the most cajoling of voices: “You know truly that your interests lie with me, the powerful and mighty Visbhume! So then: will you join with me in sacred and absolute cabal? We will defeat the monster beast, with his slavering threats and objectionable attitudes!”

“Indeed? And then?”

“You know the love I bear for you! Can you feel the quiver of a like feeling for me?”

“What then?”

“Then: away to Asphrodiske, and back to Earth at the coming of the quaver.”

“And that will be when?”

“A short time, shorter than you might think!”

“Visbhume! You alarm me! Have we enough time?”

“If all goes well and I am in command.”

“But how do we know how long or short is our time?”

“By the black moon! When the radius swings to the diameter exactly opposite the gate by which we entered, that is the time! Now, will you join me in deep and unassailable cabal?”

“Kul is terrible and strong.”

“So am I! Does he think all my power is gone? I hope so! Then you are with me?”

“Of course not.”

“What! You prefer the beast to me, Visbhume who lives and dances to the thrilling musics?”

“Visbhume, sleep while you have the chance. Your foolishness is keeping Kul awake.”

Visbhume spoke in a low and almost sibilant tone: “For the last time you have flouted me, and how you shall regret it!”

Glyneth made no response.

Kul awoke; the three made breakfast upon milk, bread, butter, cheese, onions and ham from the pantry, then Glyneth called: “House, grow small!”

The cottage shrank quickly to miniature size, and Glyneth carefully returned it to its box. They climbed aboard the wole and once again set off across the plain.

Today Visbhume wished to share the comforts of the pergola with Glyneth. “From this vantage I command a wide view! In a flash I can apprehend danger at a great distance!”

“You are the rearguard,” said Kul. “You must spy out dangers overtaking us from behind; that is your duty, and your best vantage is over the hindquarters, exactly as yesterday. Quick now! The black moon rolls around the sky, and we must arrive at Asphrodiske in good time.”

Across the plain of blue grass ran the wole, the splayed legs coursing forward and back so that the tassels of the rug jerked to the motion. Kul knelt at the base of the pergola, leaning forward so that his massive shoulders almost filled the space between the wole’s ocular horns. Glyneth reclined at her ease across the pergola’s cushioned bench, one slim leg idly dangling, while Visbhume hunched at the far end of the rug, glumly looking back the way they had come.

To the north appeared a deep forest of dark blue and purple trees. Drawing near they saw a tall manse of dark timber, built to a style elegant and stately, with many narrow glass windows, turrets and cupolas, as well as a dozen elaborate follies and crotchets included apparently for the sheer relief of boredom. To Glyneth’s taste, the style verged upon the eccentric, though out here, overlooking this changeless plain, anyone’s taste would seem as sound as anyone else’s, and Glyneth straightened in her seat, so as not to present a careless or untidy image to possible observation through the tall narrow windows.

As they passed by, a portal opened and out rode a knight in full armour of glossy black and brown metal. From his helm rose a high crest, beautifully wrought, of rods, disks and barbed prongs. The knight rode a creature somewhat like a black splay-legged tiger with a row of sharp horns down its forehead, and carried a tall lance from which fluttered a purple banner, engaged with an emblem of dark red, silver and blue.

The knight halted at a distance of a hundred feet, and Kul politely brought the wole to a halt. The knight called out: “Who are you, that crosses the breadth of my domain, with neither let nor leave?”

Glyneth called out: “We are strangers to this place, Sir Knight, and no one informed us of your rule. This being the case, will you kindly grant us leave to pass on our way?”

“That is well and softly spoken,” declared the knight. “I would be tempted to clemency, did I not fear that others, less courteous than yourself, might be emboldened to take liberties.”

Glyneth declared: “Sir, our lips are sealed as if with bars of iron! Never will your forbearance be bruited abroad, and our reports will extol only the splendour of your carriage and the gallantry of your conduct. With our best regards to you and your dear ones, we will now hastily withdraw from your presence.”

“Not so fast! Have I not spoken? You are in detention. Dismount and proceed to Lorn House!”

Kul rose to his feet and shouted: “Fool! Return to your manse while life remains to you!”

The knight lowered his lance. Kul jumped down from the wole, to Glyneth’s distress. She cried out: “Kul, get back up here! We will run away, and he may chase us if he wishes!”

“His steed is too fast,” said Visbhume. “Give me the tube you took from me and I will blow a fire-mite at him. No! Better! In my wallet is a trifle of mirror; give that to me.”

Glyneth found the mirror and gave it to Visbhume. The knight aimed his lance at Kul; the triple-horned black tiger sprang forward. Visbhume made a sweeping motion with his hand; the mirror expanded to reflect the knight and his steed. Visbhume snapped away the mirror; the knight and his reflected image clashed together; both lances shivered and both knights were pitched to the ground where they drew swords and hacked at each other, while the tiger-mounts rolled and tumbled in a snarling screaming ball.

Kul jumped aboard the wole; it lumbered away to the east, with the combat still raging behind.

Glyneth went to Visbhume. “That was good work and it will earn you consideration when the final accounting is made. Give me back the mirror.”

“Better, far better that it remains with me,” said Visbhume smoothly. “In emergencies I will therefore be swift to act.”

Glyneth asked pointedly: “Do you recall Kul’s admonition? He was anxious to fight the knight; you denied him his exercise and now he may be short-tempered.”

“Aaagh, the monstrous brute!” growled Visbhume under his breath, and with unwilling fingers relinquished the mirror.

Time passed; leagues were thrust astern. Glyneth tried to puzzle through the computations in Twitten’s almanac, but met no success. Visbhume refused to teach her, declaring that first she must learn two arcane languages and an exotic system of mathematics, each with its particular mode of graphic representation. Glyneth also found a chart, which Visbhume gracelessly interpreted for her. “Here is the Lakkady Hills, the River Mys and the hut; this is the great Tang-Tang Steppe, inhabited only by a few rogue knights and bands of nomad beasts. This is where we now travel.”

“And this town here, by the river: is it Asphrodiske?”

Visbhume squinted at the chart. “That seems to be the town Pude, by the River Haroo. Asphrodiske is here, beyond these woods and the Steppe of Sore Beggars.”

Glyneth looked dubiously at the black moon, which had moved a considerable distance around the horizon. “It is yet a long way. Have we time?”

“Much depends upon the flow of circumstances,” said Visbhume. “If an experienced captain of far travels, such as myself, were in charge of the voyage, events might well go with facility.”

“We will give your advice every consideration,” said Glyneth. “You may also keep a sharp look-out for robber knights and nomad beasts.”

The travellers proceeded across Tang-Tang Steppe, but encountered no molestation either by robber knights or by nomad beasts, though occasionally in the distance they saw heavy long-necked beasts grazing upon the fruit of the trees, and a few sparse packs of two-legged wolves hopping and loping across the middle distance. From time to time the creatures paused to stand high, the better to appraise the wole, with Glyneth lolling on the bench of the pergola, Kul below and Visbhume crouched at the rear.

Visbhume became drowsy and lay back on the rug to doze in the warmth of the suns’ light. Glyneth, at a sudden sound, looked around to find that one of the wolves had trotted furtively up behind the wole, then jumped to the rug, where now, sitting on Visbhume’s face, it sucked blood from his chest through the rasping orifices in the palms of its forepaws.

Kul jumped aft, seized the wolf, wrung its neck and threw it astern. Visbhume, with a lambent glare first at Kul, then back toward the corpse of the wolf, now being torn apart by four of its fellows, at last regained his composure. “Had I not been deprived of my things, this outrage could not have occurred!”

Glyneth gave him a scornful glance. “You should not have brought me here in the first place.”

“You must not blame me; I was so commissioned, by a highly placed person!”

“Who? Casmir? That is no excuse. Why does he want to know about Dhrun?”

“A portent, or something of the sort, has caused him alarm,” said Visbhume sourly, candid only through the discomfiture of the wolf’s attack, for which it was convenient to blame Casmir. Glyneth pressed for further details, but Visbhume would say no more until she first responded to his questions with equal frankness, a suggestion which prompted from Glyneth only a laugh of contemptuous amusement, and Visbhume said darkly: “I will never forget such insults!”

The journey proceeded as before. The wolves ran behind for a period, hopping and bounding on long legs, but at last uttered howls of rebuke after the wole and turned away to the south.

Leagues were vanquished by the wole’s running feet, while the black moon drifted around the sky. The group halted to rest a second and then a third time. On each occasion Glyneth raised the magic cottage and caused a fine banquet to appear on the table, at which all dined to repletion. Visbhume, however, was not allowed to drink overmuch wine lest he become large and annoy the others with his boasting. He then went into a fit of tearful complaints for the plight in which he found himself.

Glyneth refused to listen to him. “Again I will point out that these troubles are of your own making!”

Visbhume started to refute her statement, but Glyneth stopped him short. “Neither Kul nor I care to waste our time with foolishness. Instead—” she brought the wallet to the table “—tell me, and I remind you of Kul’s views in regard to evasiveness, how I may blow fire-mites from this tube.”

“You cannot do so,” said Visbhume, smiling and tapping his hands on the table in time to some internal tune.

“And how would you do so?”

“First I would need the fire-mites. Are there any in the wallet?”

Glyneth looked blank. “I do not know.” She brought out a flask. “What is in this little flagon?”

“That is Hippolito’s mental sensitizer. One drop stimulates the mind and helps one achieve an enviable reputation for hilarity and wit. Two drops enhances the aesthetic propensities to an exquisite degree, so that the person so stimulated can translate the patterns of spiderwebs into song-cycles and epic sagas.”

“Three drops?”

“It has never been attempted by human man. Kul might wish to experience a sublime and aesthetic experience; for such as Kul, I recommend four or even five drops.”

“Kul is not an aesthete,” said Glyneth. “These are your healing salves and balms, and this is your hair tonic . . . What is in this green bottle?”

Visbhume said delicately: “That, my dear Glyneth, is a tincture of erotic sublimations. It melts chaste maidens previously proof to both season and reason, and induces a wonderful emotion. When ingested by a gentleman, even of stately years, it lends a surge to the flagging zest and invigorates that person who, for whatever reason, finds himself growing, let us say, absent-minded.”

“I doubt if we will need this disgusting tonic,” said Glyneth coldly. She drew further objects from the wallet. “Here are your insect-bulbs; here is the tube and here the mirror. Cloth, bread, cheese, wine. Fiddle and bow; also pipes. Wires. What is their purpose?”

“They are useful when one wishes to cross a chasm, or to batter open stone walls. The peremptory spells are difficult to use.”

“And the fire-mites?”

Visbhume made a negligent gesture. “The question is nuncupatory.”

Glyneth screeched: “Kul! Do not kill him!”

Kul slowly subsided to his chair. Visbhume huddled mournfully in the corner. In sudden inspiration, Glyneth pointed to a line of what seemed decorative buttons running along the length of Visbhume’s sleeves. “The buttons! Visbhume, are these the fire-mites? . . . Kul, be patient. Pull off the buttons.”

“Better yet, Visbhume shall eat several of them.”

Visbhume looked up in startlement. “Never!”

“Then give them here!”

“I dare not!” cried Visbhume. “As soon as they are detached they must be blown through the tube.”

Kul cut from Visbhume’s loose sleeves long strips of black cloth to which the fire-mites were affixed, and thenceforth, as Visbhume walked or moved his arms, his bony white elbows protruded from the rents.

Glyneth rolled the strips of cloth around the tube and so made a bundle. “Now then! Explain, if you will, how these are to be used.”

“Pull the button from the fabric and put it in the tube so that the head looks away, then blow at the person you wish to discommode.”

“What other trickeries are you concealing from us?”

“None! No more! You have scoured me bare! I am helpless!”

Glyneth repacked the wallet. “I hope that you are telling the truth, for your own sake, since, truly, your misery only makes me ill.”

As before, the three slept in sequence. Visbhume protested loudly about sleeping outside for fear of the running wolves. He was at last allowed to sleep in the pantry with the door secured against his escape.

In due course the wole once more set off across the steppe: a rolling savannah dotted with spherical trees, of somewhat different color than before, with occasional trees of mustard-ocher or black and maroon, rather than the carmine-red of the trees along the Mys River.

Ahead stood a gigantic tree six hundred feet tall. The first boughs left the trunk in a cluster of six, spaced symmetrically around the trunk, each terminating in a great ball of dark yellow-brown foliage, with other layers of branches similarly spaced, all the way to the top. In the distance could be seen several other such giant trees, some even taller.

As the wole passed by the first, the passengers noted to their fascination that in the bark of the trunk, two hundred feet above the ground, arboreal two-legged creatures had cut out apartments interconnected by rickety balconies. The tree-dwellers showed great excitement as the wole passed by, and came out to crowd the balconies, pointing, signalling and performing gesticulations of defiance. Visbhume’s obscene gestures only stirred them to a new pitch of indignation.

Inexorably the black moon veered around the sky. Glyneth tried to estimate how long and how far they had travelled but only succeeded in confusing herself. Visbhume pretended a like uncertainty and was ordered to the ground to run behind the wole until his comprehensions sharpened, and almost at once he was able to render a precise report.

“Observe the pink star yonder! When the black moon passes under the star the way is open to Twitten’s Corners. That is my estimate. The reckoning is not certain to the minute,” he added virtuously. “I was reluctant to make a loose statement.”

“And how far is Asphrodiske?”

“Allow me to examine the map in the almanac.”

Glyneth, perhaps overly cautious, removed the key from its socket, then extended it to Visbhume.

Visbhume pointed a crooked knob-knuckled forefinger. “We would seem to be at this point, near this depicted river, which is the Haroo; and I believe I observe the flow ahead, on the left hand. The town Pude marks the beginning of settled territory. Here is the Road of Round Stones; it runs past the Dark Woods and across the Plain of Lilies and so to Asphrodiske, here at this symbol. After Pude the distance still is thirty or forty leagues, and the time draws short. I fear that our sleep has been too sound and our travel too meager.”

“And what if we missed the time?”

“A wait at the axis would seem to be in order.”

“But if we returned to the hut where we started, we could go through there the sooner; is that not correct?”

“So it is! You are a particularly clever girl: almost as clever as you are appealing to the eye.”

Glyneth compressed her lips. “Please keep your compliments to yourself; the implications make me sick to my stomach. When would the pulse again be favourable at the hut, if so it became necessary?”

“When the moon reached the same place in the sky. Notice these notations: they refer to the azimuth of the black moon.”

Glyneth went forward and reported to Kul what she had learned.

“Very well,” said Kul. “We will sleep less soundly and travel more briskly.”

Two or three leagues further along the way, a road slanted down from the north, where a small village of gray houses could be seen. It came around a forested knoll and led off into the east. Kul urged the wole upon the road, but the creature preferred to run on the blue turf, which provided a kinder footing. This road, according to Visbhume, might well lead all the way to Asphrodiske. He pointed at the map. “First we cross the River Haroo, here by the town Pude, then Asphrodiske lies onward, across the Plain of Lilies.”

Down from the slopes of neatly tiered mountains flowed the River Haroo, to pass across the way to Asphrodiske. The road led to a stone bridge of five arches and away to the east, beside the village which Visbhume had named ‘Pude’.

Glyneth asked Visbhume: “Who are the people of the village? Did they come into being here?”

“They are folk from Earth, who across the ages have inadvertently dropped through sink-holes into Tanjecterly. A certain number have been placed here for one reason or another by magicians like Twitten, and they too must bide on Tanjecterly.”

“That would seem a bitter fate,” said Glyneth. “How cruel to be torn away from those who love you! Do you not agree, Visbhume?”

Visbhume put on a lofty smile. “Sometimes stern little reprimands become necessary, especially when one deals with wilful maidens, who refuse to share the bounty of their treasure.”

Kul turned his head and stared at Visbhume, whose smile instantly faded.

Along the road came a wagon, carrying a dozen peasants. They turned to stare in wonder and awe as the wole went by. Their attention seemed primarily fixed upon Kul, and several jumped down from the wagon to take up staves as if to defend themselves from attack.

“That is an odd attitude,” said Glyneth. “We offered them no threat. Are they timid or merely hostile to strangers?”

Visbhume gave a fluting chuckle. “They are fearful for good reason. Feroces live in the mountains and no doubt have earned themselves a dubious reputation. I foresee problems. It might be wise to dismiss Kul from our company.”

Glyneth called to Kul. “Come into the pergola, on the low bench and draw the curtain, so that the village folk will not be alarmed.”

Kul somewhat reluctantly slid into the lower bench of the pergola, and drew the curtains. Visbhume, watching carefully, came forward and stood in Kul’s previous place. He looked back at Glyneth: “In case questions are asked, I will say that we are pilgrims visiting the monuments of Asphrodiske.”

“Be sure that is all you say,” came Kul’s voice from behind the curtains.

Glyneth, now uneasy, looked in the wallet and brought out a Tormentor Bulb, which she placed in her own pouch.

The wole ran smartly across the bridge and down the principal street of the village. Visbhume seemed extraordinarily alert, and looked back and forth, from side to side. He touched a pad on the wole’s crest and the creature sensibly slowed its pace. Kul rasped: “What are you doing? Keep moving at speed!”

“I do not wish to arouse adverse comment,” said Visbhume. “It is best to pass through settled areas at a seemly and sober pace, so that they will not think us irresponsible hoodlums.”

From a tall structure of dressed stone stepped three men wearing tight black trousers, voluminous tunics of green leather and elaborate wide-brimmed hats. The foremost held up his hand. “Halt!”

Visbhume brought the wole to a stand-still. “Whom is it our privilege to address?”

“I am the Honourable Fulgis, Constable and Magistrate for the village Pude. And you?”

“Innocent pilgrims bound for Asphrodiske, that we may see the sights.”

“All very well, but have you paid toll for the use of the bridge?”

“Not yet, sir. What is the fee?”

“For such a medley as I see before me, ten good dibbets, of sound tolk.”

“Very good! I was afraid that you might ask for a tassel from the rug, each of which is worth twenty dibbets.”

“I meant to include in the toll such a tassel.”

“What?” Visbhume jumped to the ground. “Is not this slightly excessive?”

“Would you prefer to return over the bridge and swim your way across the river?”

“No. Glyneth, pass me down my wallet, that I may pay Sir Fulgis his due.”

Glyneth wordlessly passed down the wallet. Visbhume now took Fulgis aside and spoke earnestly into his ear. Kul spoke to Glyneth in a husky whisper: “He is betraying us! Start the wole to running!”

“I do not know how!”

Visbhume returned and taking the wole led it into a walled courtyard. Glyneth called sharply: “What are you doing?”

“There are certain formalities which I fear we must endure. Kul may be discovered. If he becomes violent, he will be dealt with harshly. You, my dear, may step down from the pergola.”

Kul jumped from the pergola, seized the wole’s horns and caused it to canter from the courtyard. Warriors ran forward and hurled nooses; Kul was pulled from the wole and lay dazed for an instant; during this time he was bound hand and foot with many turns of rope, then dragged off to a barred cell in the side of the courtyard.

The constable spoke to Visbhume: “Well done! Such a feroce might well have done damage!”

“It is a clever beast,” said Visbhume. “I suggest that you kill it instantly, and make an end to its threat.”

“We must wait for the Lord Mayor, who may well call in Zaxa and provide us some sport.”

“And who is Zaxa?” asked Visbhume indulgently.

“He is defender of the law and executioner. He hunts feroce in the Glone Mountains and it is his delight to derogate their prideful savagery.”

“Zaxa will do famously with Kul. Now we must be on our way, since time is short for us. From my esteem, I give you personally two rich tassels, worth many dibbets. Glyneth, we will proceed. It is a pleasure to be rid of that cantankerous beast.”