It is I, Prince Aillas of Troicinet!' When you meet Murgen be not awed; he is a man like yourself—not genial, but not without justice. Listen to his instructions; obey them exactly. I include a final advice, that I may be spared any more reproaches. Will you ride a horse?"

"That is my plan."

"Stable your horse at the village Oswy Undervale before you arrive at the River Siss; otherwise it will eat a maddening herb and throw you into the rocks."

"That is valuable advice." Aillas looked longingly back toward Madling Meadow. "It would seem altogether preferable to deal with the fairies now, rather than first visiting Murgen by dangerous ways."

"So it might seem. There are reasons why any advantage lies in visiting Murgen first."

With this, Persilian allowed Aillas' image to reflect once more from the glass. As Aillas watched, his face displayed a set of ludicrous leers and grimaces, then disappeared and the mirror was blank.

At Tawn Timble Aillas traded a golden brooch set with garnets for a strong roan gelding, furnished with bridle, saddle and saddle bags. At an armorer's shop he bought a sword of decent quality, a dagger in the heavy-bladed Lyonesse style, an old bow, brittle and cantankerous but serviceable, so Aillas estimated, if oiled and drawn with a sensitive touch, along with twelve arrows and a quiver. At a haberdashery he bought a black cloak, a black forester's cap. The town cobbler fitted him with comfortable black boots. Astride his horse he once more felt himself a gentleman..

Leaving Tawn Timble, Aillas rode south to Little Saffield, then west along Old Street, with the Forest of Tantrevalles a dark margin across the north landscape. The Forest retreated and ahead the blue shadows of the great Teach tac Teach loomed into the air.

At Frogmarsh, Aillas turned north along Bittershaw Road and in due course arrived at Oswy Undervale: a lethargic settlement of two hundred inhabitants. Aillas took lodging at the Peacock Inn and spent the afternoon honing his sword and testing the flight of his arrows against a straw butt in a field behind the inn. The bow seemed to be sound but in need of work; the arrows flew adequately true out to forty yards and somewhat beyond. Aillas took a melancholy pleasure from sending arrow after arrow into a six-inch target; his skills had not deserted him.

Early in the morning, with his horse stabled behind the inn, he set off afoot along the trail to the west. He climbed a long rise of sandy waste strewn with stones and boulders, where grew only thistle and bitter-grass. At the top of the rise he overlooked a broad valley. To the west and away to the north, ever higher, crag on crag, rose the mighty Teach tac Teach, blocking passage into the Ulflands. Directly below, the trail dropped by traverses to the floor of the valley, and here flowed the River Siss, down from the Troaghs back of Cape Farewell, and away to join the Sweet Yallow. Across the valley he thought to make out Swer Smod, high on the flanks of Mount Gaboon, but the shapes and shadows made for deception and he could not be sure of what he saw.

He started down the way, running light-footed, sliding and jumping, and so in short order reached the valley. He found himself in an orchard of apple trees laden with red fruit, but he marched resolutely past and so arrived at the riverbank. On a stump sat a woman with the mask of a red fox and the legs of a chicken.

Aillas gave her a thoughtful inspection. Finally she cried out:

"Man, why do you stare so?"

"Madame Fox-face, you are most unusual."

"That is no reason to embarrass me."

"I intended no discourtesy, madame. You are as you are."

"Notice that I sit here in all dignity. It was not I who came cavorting and romping like a mad-cap down the hillside. I could never deign such frolics; folk would think me a hoyden."

"I was perhaps a trifle boisterous," Aillas admitted. "Would you allow me a question, out of sheer curiosity?"

"Provided that it is not impertinent."

"You must judge and let it be understood that in asking the question I incur no obligation."

"Ask on."

"Your face is that of a red fox, your torso that of a woman, your limbs those of a fowl. Which influence guides you as you live your life?"

"The question is noncupatory. Now it is my turn to request a boon."

"But I specifically renounced all obligation."

"I appeal to your chivalrous training. Would you see a poor frightened creature swept away before your eyes? Carry me across the river, if you please."

"That is a request no gentleman could ignore," said Aillas. "Step this way, down to the water's edge and point out the easiest crossing."

"Gladly." The woman strutted down the path toward the river.

Aillas drew his sword and with a single great stroke across the waist, cut the woman in twain.

The pieces would not rest. The pelvis and legs ran hither and yon; the upper torso dealt furious blows to the ground, while the head called objurgations to chill Aillas' blood. At last he said:

"Quiet, woman! Where is your vaunted dignity?"

"Go your way!" she screeched. "My retribution will not be long in coming!"

Aillas thoughtfully caught the back of her tunic, dragged her to the water and across the ford. "With legs on one side and arms on the other, you will be less tempted to do wicked deeds!"

257

The woman responded with a new spate of curses, and Aillas went his way. The path led up a hillside; he paused to look back. The woman had raised her head to whistle; the legs bounded across the river; the two parts fitted themselves together and the creature once again was whole. Aillas went somberly on his way: up Mount Gaboon, where all the lands to the east lay spread below, for the most part dark green forest, then across a wasteland where lived not so much as a blade of grass. A cliff rose sheer above the area, and the trail apparently had reached its end. Two steps further and Aillas saw Sinkings Gap, a narrow crevice into the cliff. At the mouth of the gap a pedestal ten feet high terminated in a point on which, in precise balance, rested an enormous boulder.

With utmost caution Aillas approached. Nearby, on the branch of a dead tree, perched a raven, with one red eye attentively fixed upon Aillas. Aillas turned his back, nocked arrow to bow, swung about, drew and let fly. The raven toppled and fell in a flapping heap to the ground. As it did so it brushed the balanced boulder with its wing. The boulder swayed, leaned, and crashed into the passage.

Aillas retrieved his arrow, cut the wings and tail from the bird and tucked the articles into his pack; someday he would fletch his twelve arrows in black.

The trail led up through Sinkings Gap to a terrace above the cliff. A mile away, under the jut of Mount Gaboon, Swer Smod overlooked the panorama: a castle of no great size, fortified only by a high wall and a pair of bartizans overlooking the portal.

Beside the trail, in the shade of eight black cypress trees, a pair of bearded gryphs eight feet tall played chess at a stone table. As Aillas approached, they put aside the chess and picked up knives. "Step this way," said one, "to save us the trouble of rising."

Aillas took two combs of honey from his pack and placed them on the stone table. "Sirs, here is your honey."

The gryphs emitted dismal groans. "Again honey," said one. "And surely insipid," gloomed the other.

Aillas said: "One should rejoice upon what one has, rather then lament for that which one has not."

The gryphs looked up in displeasure. The first uttered a sinister hiss. The other said: "One becomes sated with platitudes no less than with honey, so that one often breaks another's bones in one's vexation."

"Enjoy your meal in leisure and good health," said Aillas; and continued to the main portal. Here a tall woman of advanced years, wearing a white robe, watched Aillas' approach. He bowed in full courtesy. "Madame, I am here to confer with Murgen, upon a matter of importance. Will you please notify him that Aillas, Prince of Troicinet, awaits his pleasure?"