"That was the behest built into my brain."

"Now he is pent in a bottle, but still you are asked to serve him."

Melancthe frowned at Shimrod, mouth pursed in disapproval. "Why do you say so?"

"Murgen has informed me."

"And what does he know?"

"Enough to ask stern questions. How do these orders come to you?"

"I have had no exact orders, only impulses and intimations."

"Who prompts them?"

"Sometimes I think that they are my own contriving. When these moods come on me, I am exalted and I am fully alive!"

"Someone is rewarding you for your cooperation. You must be careful! Tamurello sits in a glass bottle, nose between his knees. Do you want the same for yourself?"

"It will not happen so."

"Is that how Desmei has instructed you?"

"Please do not utter that name."

"It must be spoken, since it is another word for ‘doom'. Your doom, if you allow her to use you as her instrument."

Melancthe rose to her feet and went to the window.

Shimrod spoke to her back: "Come with me once again to Trilda. I will purge you entirely of the green stench. We will thwart Desmei the witch. You will be wholly free and wholly alive."

Melancthe turned to face Shimrod. "I know nothing of any green stench, and nothing of Desmei. Go now."

Shimrod rose to his feet. "Today-think upon yourself and how you might want your life to go. I will return at sunset, and perhaps you will come away with me." Melancthe seemed not to hear. Shimrod left the room and departed the villa.

The day passed, hour by hour. Shimrod sat at his table before the inn watching the sun cross the sky. When it hung its own diameter above the horizon he set off up the beach. Presently he arrived at the white villa. He went to the front door and raising the knocker, let it fall.

The door opened a crack. Lillas the maid looked out at him.

"Good evening," said Shimrod. "I want to speak with your mistress."

Lillas looked at him large-eyed. "She is not here."

"Where is she? Up the beach?"

"She is gone."

" ‘Gone'?" Shimrod spoke sharply. "Gone where?"

"As to that, who can say?"

"What has happened to her?"

"An hour ago I answered to a knock at the door. It was Torqual the Ska. He walked past me, along the hall and into the parlour. The mistress was sitting on the divan; she jumped to her feet. The two looked at each other for a moment, and I watched from the doorway. He spoke a single word: ‘Come!' The mistress made no move, but stood as if irresolute. Torqual stepped forward, took her hand and led her away down the hall and out the front door. She made no protest; indeed, she walked like a person in a dream."

Shimrod listened with a weight pressing at the pit of his stomach. Lillas spoke on in a rush: "There were two horses in the road. Torqual lifted my mistress into the saddle of one and mounted the other. They rode away to the north. And now I do not know what to do!"

Shimrod found his voice. "Do as usual; you have not been instructed otherwise."

"That is good advice!" said Lillas. "Perhaps she will be home in short order."

"Perhaps."

Shimrod returned south along the beach road to the Sunset Inn. In the morning he took himself once again to the white villa, but found only Lillas on the premises. "You have had no word from your mistress?"

"No, sir. She is far away; I feel it in my bones."

"So do I." Shimrod reached to the ground for a pebble. He rubbed it between his fingers and handed it to Lillas. "As soon as your mistress returns, take this pebble out of doors, throw it into the air and say: ‘Go to Shimrod!' Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"What will you do?"

"I will throw the pebble into the air and say: ‘Go to Shimrod!'

"That is correct! And here is a silver florin to assist your memory."

"Thank you, sir."

V

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 Ulfiand? 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 Desmei. 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."