Travec took his hammer-headed horse to the stables, and lingered a moment after the others were gone. He whispered:

"Skel! You must carry a message!"

"Cannot it be delayed? Both Voner and I are fatigued with all this moil. We were planning to spend an hour or so tracing out illusions."

"You must wait until after your task is done. Go instantly to the town Doun Darric, which lies northwest of this place. Seek out King Aillas, and without delay give him the following mes sage...

IV

During the late afternoon veils of rain drifted up Glen Dagach, and presently slanted into Old Neep Meadow. Cory and his company gathered in the great hall of the ancient castle, where flames roared high in the fireplace to cast a ruddy light around the room. They were served a supper of bread, cheese, a pot of venison stew and a leather sack of tart red wine.

After the meal the group became restless. Galgus brought out his dice, but no one cared to gamble. Kegan, from sheer boredom, looked into a dusty chamber under the old staircase, where he noticed, beneath the detritus of uncounted years, a cupboard of desiccated wood. He scraped away the trash and opened the warped doors, but in the dim light saw only empty shelves. As he turned away, his eye fell upon a shape at the back of the lowest shelf. He reached down and extricated an oblong box. The box was large and heavy, and joined of dense cedar heartwood.

Kegan carried the box out to the table in front of the fireplace and while his comrades looked on, he pried open the lid. Everyone peered down at the object inside: a carefully carved fabrication of soapstone slabs and other pieces, stained black, and decorated with a hundred elaborations carved from onyx, jet and agate. Cory came to look. "It is a little catafaique, in the ancient style-a miniature, or a model, or perhaps a toy." He reached to lift it from the box, but Kegan seized his arm. "Stop! It may be a bewitchment, or a cursed object! Let no one touch the thing!"

Torqual came into the hail, followed by a slender dark-haired woman of extreme beauty.

Cory called Torqual's attention to the miniature catafalque. "What do you know of this? Kegan found it under the stair case."

Torqual frowned down into the box. "It means nothing to me."

Este said: "In some fashionable house of Rome this object might well be used as a high-style salt cellar."

"It may be a shrine to someone's favorite cat," suggested Galgus the Daut. "In Falu Ffail, King Audry clothes his spaniels in trousers of purple velvet."

"Put it aside," said Torqual brusquely. "Such things are best not disturbed." He turned to the woman. "Melancthe, this is Cory of Falonges and these are his associates. I have forgotten their names, but this is a Hun, that is a Roman, that a Celt, over there a Daut, and that creature-half hawk, half wolf-declares himself a Dacian. What is your opinion of the group? Do not be afraid to speak your mind; they are devoid of illusions."

"They do not concern me." Melancthe went to sit alone at the end of the table where she stared into the fire.

Travec whispered: "Voner! What do you see?"

"There is green in the woman. A tendril touches her; it darts so swift and sudden that I cannot trace it."

"What does that mean? Is she a node of force?"

"She is a shell."

Travec watched her a moment. She raised her head, looked around the room with brows knit. Travec averted his eyes. He whispered: "What then? Did she sense my presence?"

"She is uneasy, but she does not know why. Do not stare at her."

"Why not?" muttered Travec. "Everyone else is doing so. She is the world's most beautiful woman."

"I do not understand such things."

Presently Melancthe left the room. Torqual and Cory conferred apart for half an hour, then Torqual departed as well.

"What now?" demanded Galgus. "It is too early to sleep and the wine is vile. Who will game at dice?"

Este had gone to look into the cedar box. He said, "Rather, who will raise the cover on this toy catafalque to see what lies within?"

"Not I," said Galgus.

"Do not touch the thing," said Izmael the Hun. "You will bring a curse down upon the company."

"Not so," said Este. "It is clearly a macabre joke in the form of a jewel box and may well be brimming with sapphires and emeralds."

Kegan's interest was aroused. "That is reasonable. Maybe I will take one little peek, just to make sure."

Galgus looked toward Travec: "And what are you saying to yourself this time, Travec?"

"I chant my spell against death-magic," said Travec.

"Ah bah, it is nothing! Go to it, Kegan! A glimpse only; no harm can come of it!"

With one long yellow thumbnail Kegan lifted the soapstone lid. He bent his head, so that his thin crooked nose almost entered the crack, and peered within. Then slowly he drew back and lowered the lid.

Cory demanded: "Well then, Kegan! Do not keep us in suspense! What did you see?"

"Nothing."

"So why all the drama?"

"It is a fine toy," said Kegan. "I will carry it upon my horse and take it away, as my little keepsake."

Cory gave him a wondering stare. "As you like."

At noon of the following day the two companies departed Neep Meadow and rode down Glen Dagach. Where glen opened upon low moor, the parties separated. Cory, the five in his company, and the guide: a sallow sly-eyed stripling named Idis struck off to the northwest to arrange their ambush. Torqual, with his thirty-five warriors, continued westward toward Willow Wyn gate. For two hours they waited in the shelter of a forest, then at dusk continued along the road: down over the low moors and into the valley of the river Win.

The company rode at a carefully regulated pace, so that just as the first light of dawn brought substance to the land, the troop entered the park surrounding Castle Green Willow and rode along the stately entry drive, between parallel lines of poplar trees.

The troop rounded a bend, to halt in consternation. A dozen knights, mounted on chargers, blocked the road, lances at the ready.

The knights charged. The bandits turned in confusion to flee, but a similar group of knights blocked the road to the rear. And now, from behind the poplars, stepped archers, to pour volley after volley into the screaming outlaws. Torqual on the instant turned his horse to the side, burst through a gap in the poplars and crouching low, galloped like a madman across the country side. Sir Minch, who commanded the troop, sent off ten men in pursuit, with orders to track Torqual to the ends of the world if necessary. Those few outlaws who still survived he condemned to death on the spot, to save the toil of as many hangings. Swords were raised; swords fell; heads rolled, and Torqual's troop and his dreams of empire were at the same time dissolved.

The ten warriors pursued Torqual up Glen Dagach, where he rolled rocks down upon them, killing two. When the others arrived upon Old Neep Meadow, they found only the serving women and a few small children. Torqual and Melancthe had already fled by secret ways up toward the high moors and the chasms at the back of Mount Sobh. At this time there was no point in further pursuit, even though Mount Sobh was not yet the ends of the world.

V

At Lyonesse Town all was in flux, what with King Milo, Queen Caudabil, and Prince Brezante due to arrive for a three-day visit, and a festival suddenly ordained in their honour. The festival had been conceived by King Casmir, after his hopes for an advantageous betrothal had gone glimmering. His enthusiasm for the visit had cooled, and he was especially reluctant to entertain his guests at a succession of long, bibulous banquets where King Milo, a noteworthy trencherman, and Queen Caudabil, only slightly less redoubtable, regaled themselves upon course after course of fine viands and great quantities of Castle Haidion's best wines. King Casmir therefore proclaimed a festival at which there would be all manner of sports, games and competitions in honour of the royal visitors: the high kick, the broad vault, footraces, wrestling, throwing the stone, sparring with padded staves on a plank over a mud pit, which would also be used at tug-of-war trials. There would be dancing of jigs, hits and rounds to music; bull-baiting, an archery contest and jousting with buffed lances. The program was arranged so that King Milo and Queen Caudabil were constantly occupied, listening to panegyrics, judging contests, awarding prizes and applauding winners, consoling losers and granting awards. To all of these events, King Milo and Queen Caudabil, as royal sponsors, must give their keen attention, leaving no time for long and lavish feasts, at which King Milo might test his prodigious capacity for wine. The two instead must hurriedly nourish themselves at collations of cold ham, bread and cheese, with flagons of stout ale to wash down the hearty and inexpensive fare.