Hilario indignantly pointed out these deficiencies to Shylick and demanded that the work be done properly, to exact standards. Shylick, now glum and out of sorts, did his best to evade the extra toil. He argued that total precision was impossible and unknown to the cosmos. He claimed that a reasonable and realistic person accepted a degree of latitude in the interpreta tion of his contract, since this looseness was inherent in the communicative process.

Hilario remained inflexible and Shylick became ever more excited, striking at the floor with his tall green hat, and his arguments ever more abstruse. He stated that since the distinction between ‘seeming' and ‘substance' was in any case no more than a philosophical nicety, almost anything was equivalent to almost anything else. Hilario said gravely: "In that case, I will pay off my account with this bit of straw."

"No," said Shylick. "That is not quite the same thing." He went on to assert that if only for the sake of simplicity, Hilario should pay the account and contentedly take up residence in his new abode.

Hilario would not be persuaded. He termed Shylick's arguments pure sophistry, from beginning to end. "The manse presents a fine appearance, granted," said Hilario. "But enchantments of this sort are fugitive and tend to erode!"

"Not always!"

"Often enough! With the first good rain the entire jackleg contraption might collapse around my ears, perhaps in the middle of the night while I lay sleeping. You must do the work over, from start to finish, using standard materials and approved methods of construction."

The carpenters grumbled but Hilario had his way and work commenced again. For three days and nights the goblins toiled, and this time-from petulance or perhaps sheer perversity-they did the work twice as well as was needful, using rosewood, madura and choice walnut burl for the panelling; rhodocrosite, pink porphyry and malachite in the place of marble: all the while glaring sidewise at Hilario as if daring him to find fault.

At last the work was finished and Hilario paid off his account with two hundred and twelve cockleshells and a feast of pickled fish, fresh-baked bread, new cheese, nuts and honey, a tub of strong pear cider and another of mulberry wine; and the transaction ended on a note of good-fellowship and mutual esteem.

Hilario took up residence and lived many years at Trilda, eventually dying of inexplicable causes out on Lally Meadow. Perhaps the victim of a lightning bolt. Though, according to rumour, he had excited the resentment of the wizard Tamurello. In any case, nothing could be proved.

The manse remained empty for a number of years, until one day Shimrod, during his wanderings, came upon the lonely structure and decided to make it his own home. He added a wing for his workroom, planted flowers at the front and an orchard at the back, and Trilda was soon as charming as ever.

To maintain Trilda: to dust, mop and tidy, to polish the glass, wax the wood, weed the gardens and tend the fires, Shimrod engaged a family of merrihews (sometimes known as tree trolls) recently arrived in the neighborhood. These were small shy creatures who worked only when Shimrod's back was turned, so that he seldom noticed them except as a flicker of movement from the side of his eye.

The years went by, after the established cycle. Shimrod lived at Trilda for the most part in solitude, with only his work to distract him. Few folk came to Lally Meadow; perhaps an occasional woodcutter or mushroom-gatherer; and Shimrod entertained virtually no one. At the other end of the meadow was Tuddifot Shee: to the casual eye an outcropping of black trap, stained on the north side with lichen. From time to time Shimrod watched the fairies at their revels, but always from afar. Already he had learned that the society of fairies could lead to turmoils of bittersweet frustration.

Recently, at Murgen's behest, Shimrod had undertaken a monumental task: the analysis and classification of material confiscated from the wizard Tamurello and brought to Trilda as a disorganized clutter. Tamurello had been a magician of great scope and electric experience; he had collected from near and far a great number of objects and magical adjuncts: some trivial, others quivering with force.

Shimrod's first task, in connection with this wonderful miscellaneity, was to make a cursory survey of documents, tracts, formularies and records. These were presented in many shapes, sizes and conditions. There were books old and new, scrolls from times beyond memory, illuminated parchments; portfolios of drawings, plans, maps and charts; cloth panels stamped with block characters, papers inscribed in odd-colored inks in languages even more arcane.

Shimrod sorted these articles into piles for future study, and began to examine the machines, tools, utensils, enhancers and assorted other artifacts. Many showed no obvious utility, and Shimrod frequently puzzled as to their purpose or, conversely, their lack of purpose. For a month he had been studying such a contrivance: an assembly of seven disks of transparent material, rolling around the periphery of a circular tablet of black onyx. The disks swam with soft colors, and showed pulsing black spots of emptiness, forming and dying apparently at random.

Shimrod could conceive no practical purpose for the device. A clock? A toy? A curio? So complicated a machine, he reasoned, must have been constructed with a definite purpose in mind, though this purpose quite escaped his understanding.

One day as he sat watching the disks, a chime issued from a large bulging mirror hanging on the end wall.

Shimrod rose to his feet and approached the mirror, to find himself looking into the Great Hall at Swer Smod. Murgen stood by the table. He acknowledged Shimrod's attention with a nod and spoke without preliminaries. "I have a complicated task to lay before you. It might well involve you in personal danger. Still, it is of great importance and must be accomplished. Since I cannot take time to do this work, it falls upon your shoulders."

"That is the reason for my being," said Shimrod. "What is the task?"

"In the main, it is a continuation of your previous work at Ys. You now must pursue your investigations in greater detail. Specifically, you must learn the facts in regard to Desmei."

"You have no theories?"

"I have guesses by the dozen; facts none. The best possibilities are very few; in fact, as I reckon it, they number two only."

"And they are?"

"We start with this supposition. When Desmei created Melancthe and Carfilhiot she dissolved herelf totally as a dramatic demonstration of spite toward the race of men. The qualification here is that no one would truly care-Tamurello least of all. As a more likely case, she chose to alter her state, that she might bide her time, and take revenge when the opportunity arose. With that as your premise, you are to discover the node of green taint which is Desmei-or whatever semblance she is using. Where is her hiding place? What is her scheme? I suspect that her agents are Melancthe and Torqual; if so, they will lead you to Desmei."

"So then-how should I proceed?"

"First, alter your semblance, and definitely; Melancthe perceived you through the last. Then travel to the high moors of Ulfland. Under Mount Sobh in Glen Dagach is High Coram; there you will find Melancthe and Torqual."

"And when I find Desmei?"

"Destroy her-unless first she destroys you."

"That is a contingency I would regret."

"Then you must arm yourself well. You cannot use sandestin magic; she would sniff you out on the instant, since the green comes from demonland."

"In that case, I am vulnerable to demon magic."

"Not altogether. Hold out your hand."

Shimrod did so, and at once found in his palm a pair of small black bloodstone spheres, each joined by a short chain to an earring. "These are the hither projections of two Mang Seven effrits. They dislike all things from both Mel and Dadgath. Their names are Voner and Skel; you will find them useful. Now make your preparations, then I will give you further instructions."