"This I doubt. The boy must be found, identified, and brought here to Haidion. This is of paramount urgency. Do you know the location of Thripsey Shee?"

"Sir, I do not."

King Casmir smiled a grim smile. "Clearly, it is close by the old residence of Graithe and Wynes—which is to say, beyond the village Glymwode, at the edge of the forest. Find the shee and put your questions to the fairies. Subdue them with a libation of docility, if necessary."

Visbhume uttered a high-pitched sound of dismay. "Your Majesty, a word!"

King Casmir, slowly turning his head, fixed Visbhume with a stare cold and blue as a glacial lake. "You have further information to impart?"

"No, your Majesty. I must think long and well on how best to fulfill your goals."

"Waste no time. This matter is of great importance... . Why do you wait?"

"Your Majesty, I have needs."

"In what regard?"

"Certainly I will require a steed suitable to my condition, as well as a sum of money, for needful expenses."

"Make your application to Rosko; he will deal with your requests.7'

IV

THE SFER ARCT, ENTERING LYONESSE TOWN from the north, skirted the most ancient wing of Haidion, then continued across town to the Chale, the esplanade fronting the harbour. At this intersection stood the Four Mallows Inn, where Visbhume took lodging, in apparent disregard of King Casmir's order to make haste.

Visbhume dined upon a fine fresh lobster, seethed in a sauce of wine, butter and garlic, and consumed a bottle of the best wine the inn could offer. Despite the succulence of his meal, he ate without gusto, in a mood of dour foreboding. If he were to approach the fairies and annoy them with his questions, they would surely play him a round of vicious pranks—especially since they delighted in tormenting folk in whom they detected fear and loathing: both of which Visbhume felt in abundance.

After finishing his supper, Visbhume went to sit on a bench at the side of the square and while dusk fell upon the town he brooded further upon his mission. If only he had worked to better effect during his apprenticeship to Hippolito! But he had attempted only easy techniques and had never encompassed the hard disciplines required for full command of the Grand Art. When fleeing Maule in the goat-cart, he had sequestered certain of Hippolito's properties: apparatus, books, curios, and his great prize, Twitten's Almanac. He had taken these goods to a secret place in Dahaut where now they were of no use to him, and he knew none of the sleights of quick self-transfer.

Visbhume scratched his long nose. Fast travel was a lore which he must inveigle from Tamurello, when circumstances were favorable. To date, Tamurello had revealed nothing whatever; indeed his attitude was often ambiguous, and his tart comments had hurt Visbhume deeply, so that now Visbhume felt reluctant to seek help from Tamurello for fear of another hurtful rebuff.

Yet, where else could he turn? The fairies were the most capricious of creatures; to win their favor, or to gain their knowledge, one must entertain them, or delight their senses, or arouse their avarice, or perhaps only their curiosity. Or their fear.

Visbhume reflected at length, to no effect, and presently went to his couch.

In the morning, he attacked his quandary again. "I am Visbhume!" he told himself. "I am the clever, the clear-eyed, the bold! I am Visbhume the magician who pipes up the dawn and marches through life with his forehead wreathed in rainbows, riding the surge of a glorious music!"

But then, using another voice, he told himself: "Quite so and all very well, but in the present case, exactly how shall I exercise my power?"

No response vouchsafed itself, from either of the voices. Halfway through the morning, as he sat on the bench, he was approached by a burly black-bearded Moor garbed in turban and djellaba. The Moor stood looking down at him with quizzical amusement and presently said: "So then, Visbhume! How goes it?"

Visbhume looked up sharply, then said: "Sir, you have the advantage of me. Are we truly acquainted?"

The Moor chuckled. "Ask yourself, Visbhume, who knows of your presence in Lyonesse Town?"

"They are three: King Casmir, his servant Rosko, and a certain other person whose name need not be mentioned, by reason of discretion."

"Might ‘Tamurello' be the name which, in your wise restraint, you do not choose to mention?"

"Precisely so." Visbhume studied the black-bearded face. "This is an unfamiliar semblance."

Tamurello nodded. "As a matter of fact, it is close to my natural likeness, and therefore comfortable. You seem to be at loggerheads. What is your difficulty?"

Visbhume explained his problem in all frankness. "King Casmir commands that I draw information from the fairies, and I sit here among a dozen procedures, none of which serve the purpose. If truth be known, I fear fairy-tricks. They will transform me into a heron, or pull my nose out a clothyaid's length, or send me riding across the sky in a whirlwind."

"The dangers are real," said Tamurello. "To avoid them you must use the skill of a lover with his coy mistress, or else seduce them with marvels."

"All very well," bleated Vishbume, "but how?" Tamurello looked off across the harbour. After a moment he said: "Go to the market, and buy eight skeins of red yarn and eight skeins of blue yarn, and bring them here; then we shall see."

Visbhume marched swiftly away to do Tamurello's bidding. He returned to find Tamurello sitting at his ease on the bench. Visbhume started to sit also, but Tamurello made a signal. "There is room only for one. You may sit presently. Show me the yarn... . Aha, that will do splendidly. You must wind the red yarn into a ball, and the blue yarn into another ball. I have here a bobbin apparently carved from a maple burl; observe it, if you will." Tamurello exhibited an object about two inches in diameter. "You will notice that it is perforated by a hole, and indeed is not truly made of wood."

"What then might it be?"

"A clever little creature which has received my instructions. Now listen with all attention! Do exactly as I say; otherwise you must come to grief, and fly Madling Meadow as a heron or, more likely, a crow; the fairies at times are over-mordant in their humour."

"You need never worry; when I listen I hear and what I hear I retain forever, since my memory is like a record carved into stone!"

"A useful trait. Go to Madling Meadow, and show yourself about two hours after sunrise. At the center of the meadow you will notice a hummock. From its side grows a crooked old oak tree. This is Thripsey Shee.

"Go out on the meadow, heeding neither sounds, nor yet blows, tweaks, nor pinches: they are meaningless. The fairies idly amuse themselves, and will not truly harm you, unless you give them reason, by kicking or cursing or simply glaring about. Go with pleasant dignity, and in their curiosity they will not think even to harass you.

"When you arrive at the crooked oak tree, tie one end of the red yarn to a branch, then come back toward a pair of birch saplings, trading the red yarn along the meadow behind you.

"Arriving at the birch saplings, toss the ball of red yarn between the trunks. Do not walk through yourself. Then thread the end of the blue yarn through the hole in the bobbin and knot it, so that it will not pull through. Toss the blue yarn after the red, then utter the words which I will now teach you." Tamurello spoke aside to the bobbin: "Do not heed me now; I speak in rehearsal only. Visbhume, attention! At the proper time, utter this charge: ‘Bobbin, be at your business!' Then stand back. Do not watch the bobbin; do not look between the trees. Is so much clear?"

"Absolutely, and in every respect. What then?"

"I cannot predict. If the fairies ask questions you must say: ‘Who talks? Show yourself; no wise man reveals his wisdom to the air!' Then, after they show themselves you must deny knowledge of the shee, so that they may not accuse you of special purpose. When they ask what you have wrought, you must say: ‘This is a nexus into Hai-Hao, but nothing can pass without my permission.'"