5.

 

 

 

SHIMROD CONVEYED HIMSELF UP OVER THE MOUNTAINS to the stony flat in front of Swer Smod. Entering the forecourt, he discovered the two gryphs sitting down to their morning meal, which included two great joints of beef, four roast fowl, a pair of suckling pigs, two trenchers of pickled salmon, a round of white cheese, and several loaves of new bread. At the sight of Shimrod they jumped up from the table in a rage and ran forward as if to rend him limb from limb.

Shimrod held up his hand. “Moderation, if you please! Has not Murgen instructed you to milder manners?”

“He approved our vigilance,” said Vuwas. “He advised a trifle more restraint toward persons of patently good character.”

“You do not fit that description,” said Vus. “Hence we must do our duty.”

“Stop! I am Shimrod, and I am here on legitimate business!”

“That remains to be seen!” said the mottled green Vus. With one claw he scratched a line across the stone pavement. “First we must be convinced of your bona fides, which we will look into as soon as we dine.”

“We have been hoodwinked before,” said Vuwas. “Never again! Step one inch past that line and we will devour you for an appetizer.”

Shimrod performed a small spell. “I would prefer to pass by your investigation at once, but no doubt you are anxious to join your guests.”

“ ‘Guests’?” demanded Vuwas. “What guests are these?”

Shimrod pointed; the gryphs turned to discover a troop of eight baboons wearing red trousers and round red hats making free with their repast. Some stood at one side of the table, others opposite, while three stood on the table itself.

Vus and Vuwas roared in full outrage, and ran to chase off the baboons, but they were not so easily discouraged, and hopped with agility here and there, walking in the pickled salmon, and throwing food at the gryphs. Shimrod took advantage of the disturbance to cross the forecourt, and so arrived at the tall iron door. He was admitted and made his way to the great hall.

As before, a fire blazed in the fireplace. The glass globe hanging from the ceiling glowed sullen green. Murgen was not in evidence.

Shimrod seated himself beside the fire and waited. After a moment, he turned his head and glanced up at the suspended globe. Two black eyes glittered at him through the green murk. Shimrod turned his gaze back to the fire.

Murgen entered the room and joined Shimrod at the table. “You seem a bit dispirited,” said Murgen. “How went events at Ys?”

“Well enough, in certain respects.” Shimrod told of what had transpired at the Sunset Inn and at Melancthe’s villa. “I learned little that we did not already suspect, except the fact of Torqual’s involvement.”

“It is important and signifies a conspiracy! Remember, he first came to Melancthe to learn her commands.”

“But on the second occasion he ignored her commands and forced her to his will.”

“It is perhaps cynical to note that he did not need to force very hard.”

Shimrod stared into the fire. “What do you know of Torqual?”

“Not a great deal. He was born a Ska nobleman who became a renegade, and is now an outlaw living by plunder, blood and terror. His ambitions may well extend farther.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Is that not implied by his conduct? King Casmir wants him to incite revolt among the Ulfish barons; Torqual takes Casmir’s money and goes his own way, with no real advantage to Casmir. If Aillas loses control of the mountains, Torqual will hope to become the ruler, and who knows what then? North and South Ulfland? Godelia? East Dahaut?”

“Luckily, it is an unlikely prospect.”

Murgen stared into the fire. “Torqual is a man without mercy. It would be a pleasure to hang him in a bottle alongside Tamurello. Alas! I cannot violate my own law—unless he gives me cause. This cause may well be forthcoming.”

“How so?”

“The propulsion to this affair, so I tell myself, can only be Desmëi. Where has she taken herself? She is either using some unexpected semblance or hiding where she cannot be discovered. Her hopes flourish and fester! She has revenged herself sweetly upon Tamurello, but not upon the race of men; she is not yet sated.”

“Perhaps she lives passive inside Melancthe, waiting and watching.”

Murgen shook his head. “She would be constricted and far too vulnerable, since I would know at once. On the other hand, Melancthe, or a construct just like her, may be the vessel Desmëi ultimately plans to fill.”

“Tragic that a thing so beautiful must be put to such humiliating uses!” said Shimrod. He sat back in his chair. “Still, it is nothing to me.”

“Just so,” said Murgen. “Now, for a space, I must put this matter aside. Other affairs press at my attention. The star Achernar is rife with odd activity, especially in the far outer tracts. Meanwhile Joald stirs in the depths. I must discover if a linkage exists.”

“In that case, what of me?”

Murgen rubbed his chin. “I will set out a monitor. If Torqual uses magic we will interfere. If he is only a bandit, no matter how cruel, King Aillas and his armies must take him in charge.”

“I would favor more direct action.”

“No doubt; still our goal is minimal involvement! The Edict is a fragile force; if we are discovered in violation, its inhibition may dissolve into smoke.”

“One last word! Your devils are as horrid as ever! They might well frighten a timid person. You must definitely teach them a more polite etiquette.”

“I will see to it.”