"And how goes it with them?"

The guard shook his head. "They are weak and suffer anguish; and all have at least two feet still to grow."

Sir Glide looked back along the valley and up and down the mountainsides. "It would seem no great matter to ride up the valley with thirty men and effect a rescue."

The guard, grinning, showed a mouthful of broken teeth. "So it would seem. Never forget, Sir Faude is a master of crafty tricks.

No one invades his valley to escape free and harmless." Sir Glide again considered the mountains rising steep from the valley floor.

No doubt they were riddled with tunnels, vantages and sally-holes.

He told the guard: "I would suspect that Sir Faude's enemies gather faster than he can kill them."

"It may be so," said the guard. "Mithra keep us safe!" The conversation, from his point of view, had run its course; perhaps already he had been too garrulous.

Sir Glide joined his companion, a tall man dressed in a black cloak and broad-brimmed black hat pulled low over his forehead to shadow a spare long-nosed face. This person, though armed only with a sword and lacking armor, nonetheless carried himself with the ease of a nobleman, and Sir Glide treated him as an equal.

The captain came down from the castle. He addressed Sir Glide.

"Sir, I have faithfully delivered your message to Sir Faude Carfilhiot. He gives you entrance to Tintzin Fyral and warrants your safety. Follow, if you will; he can receive you at once." So saying, he put his horse through a grand caracole and galloped away. The deputation followed at a more moderate pace. Up the cliff they rode, back and forth, and at every stage discovered instruments of defense: embrasures, traps, stone-tumbles, timbers pivoted to sweep the intruder into space, sally-ports and tripholes.

Back, forth, again and again, and the road widened. The two men dismounted and gave over their horses to stable-boys.

The captain took them into the lower hall of Tintzin Fyral, where Carfilhiot waited. "Gentlemen, you are dignitaries of Troicinet?"

Sir Glide assented. "That is correct. I am Sir Glide of Fairsted and I carry credentials from King Aillas of Troicinet, which I now put before you." He tendered a parchment, at which Carfilhiot glanced, then handed over to a small fat Chamberlain. "Read."

The chamberlain read in a reedy voice:

"To Sir Faude Carfilhiot At Tintzin Fyral: By the law of South Ulfland, by might and by right, I have become King of South Ulfland, and I hereby require of you the fealty due the sovereign-ruler. I present to you Lord Glide of Fairsted, and another, both trusted councillors. Sir Glide will enlarge upon my requirements and in general speak with my voice. He may be entrusted with whatever messages, even the most confidential, you may care to impart.

I trust that you will make quick response to my demands as expressed by Sir Glide. Below I append my signature and the seal of the kingdom.

Aillas Of South Ulfland and Troicinet: King."

The chamberlain returned the parchment to Carfilhiot, who studied it with a thoughtful frown, obviously arranging his thoughts. At last he spoke in tones of great gravity. "I am naturally interested in the concepts of King Aillas. Let us conduct this business in my small saloon."

Carfilhiot led Sir Glide and his companion up a low flight of steps, past a kind of aviary thirty feet high and fifteen feet in diameter, equipped with perches, nests, feeders and swings. The human denizens of the aviary exemplified Carfilhiot's whimsy at its most pungent; he had amputated the limbs of several captives, both male and female and had substituted iron claws and hooks, with which they clung to the perches. Each was adorned with plumage of one sort or another; all twittered, whistled and sang bird-songs. Chief among the group, splendid in bright green feathers, sat Mad King Deuel. Now he hunched on his perch, an aggrieved expression on his face. At the sight of Carfilhiot he became alert and hopped briskly along the perch. "One moment, if you will! I have a serious complaint!"

Carfilhiot paused. "Well, what now? Of late you have been querulous."

"And why should I not? Today I was promised worms. In spite of all, I was served only barley!"

"Patience," said Carfilhiot. "Tomorrow you will have your worms."

Mad King Deuel muttered peevishly, hopped to another perch and sat brooding. Carfilhiot led his company into a room paneled in pale wood, with a green rug on the floor and windows overlooking the valley. He gestured to a table. "Be seated, if you please. Have you dined?"

Sir Glide seated himself; his companion remained standing at the back of the room. "We already have taken our meal," said Sir Glide. "If you like, we will go directly to our business."

"Please do so:" Carfilhiot leaned back in his chair and thrust out his long strong legs.

"My message is simple. The new king of South Ulfland has arrived in force at Ys. King Aillas brings a strong rule to the land and all must obey him."

Carfilhiot gave a metallic laugh. "I know nothing of this. To the best of my information, Quilcy left no heirs; the line is dead.

Where then does Aillas derive his right?"

"He is King of South Ulfland by collateral lineage and by proper law of the land. Already he comes up the Vale, and he bids you to descend and meet him, and to give over any thoughts of resisting his rule from the strength of this, your castle Tintzin Fyral, since in this case he will reduce it."

"That has been tried before," said Carfilhiot, smiling. "The assailants are gone and Tintzin Fyral remains. In any event King Casmir of Lyonesse will not allow a Troice presence here."

"He has no choice. We have already sent a force to take Kaul Bocach and so deny Casmir his thoroughfare."

Carfilhiot sat brooding. He gave his fingers a contemptuous flick.

"I must move with deliberation. The circumstances are still uncertain."

"I beg to contradict you. Aillas rules South Ulfland. The barons have acceded to his rule with gratitude, and they have marshaled their troops at Cleadstone Castle, in case they are needed against Tintzin Fyral."

Carfilhiot, startled and stung, jumped to his feet. Here was the message of the magic chart! "Already you have incited them against me! In vain! The plot will fail! I have powerful friends!"

Sir Glide's companion spoke for the first time. "You have a single friend, your lover Tamurello. He will not help you."

Carfilhiot whirled about. "Who are you? Come forward! Somewhere I have seen you."

"You know me well, because you have done me great wrongs. I am Shimrod."

Carfilhiot stared. "Shimrod!"

"You hold the two children Glyneth and Dhrun who are dear to me.

You will return them now into my custody. You robbed my manse.

Trilda and took my possessions. Bring them to me now."

Carfilhiot drew his lips back in a ghastly grin. "And what do you offer in return?"

Shimrod spoke in a soft dull voice. "I swore that the villains who looted Trilda would die after first suffering some of the torment they had visited upon my friend Grofinet. I took Rughalt the assassin through his sore knees. He died in great pain but first he named you as his accomplice. Return me now my goods and the two children. I will reluctantly forswear myself: you will not die by my hand nor by the pain I would give you. I have nothing more to offer, but it is a great deal."

Carfilhiot, with eyebrows raised and lids half-lowered, contrived an expression of austere distaste. He spoke patiently, like one explaining self-evident truths to a lack-wit. "You are nothing to me. I have taken your goods because I wanted them. I will do so again, perchance. Beware of me, Shimrod!"

Sir Glide spoke. "Sir, once more I cite you the orders of your liege lord King Aillas. He bids you come down from your palace and submit yourself to his justice. He is not a harsh man and prefers to spill no blood."