Shimrod raised high his eyebrows. "Among all these quaint folk? They are your familiars and the songsters who join you out on the rocks!"

"Truly, Shimrod, I wanted to see you that I might ask your opinion of my flower." She displayed the blossom; the petals, black, purple, ice-blue and carmine-red, seemed as fresh now as if the flower had just been plucked. "Smell! The odor is unique."

Shimrod sniffed and looked askance at the flower. "Certainly it is vivid, and its petals are nicely shaped. I have never seen another like it."

"And the perfume?"

"I find it a trifle too heady. I am reminded of..." Shimrod paused and rubbed his chin.

"Of what?"

"A strange picture came into my mind: a scene of flowers at war and a great carnage. Flowers with green arms and legs lay dead or mortally wounded; others tall in pride and cruelty cut down at those who were doomed, and so smelled the battlefield."

"That is a complex and subtle way to describe a scent."

"Perhaps so. Where did you come by the flower?"

"At the booth of the trader Zuck, who will tell me nothing as to its source."

Shimrod drank from the goblet. "We have discussed my disguise and your flower; what other topics interest you?"

Melancthe gave her head a rueful shake. "When first we met you lacked all suspicion. Now you dart cynical glances over your wine-cup."

"I am older," said Shimrod. "Is that not the ordinary course of life? When I first knew myself as Shimrod, I felt an exuberance I cannot describe! Murgen despaired of me, and would not so much as hear my voice. I cared nothing; I frolicked like a young goat, and travelled the land with a new adventure at every turning."

"Aha, tonight your secrets are emerging. Do they include a spouse from this time of rashness, along with a bevy of sons and daughters?"

Shimrod laughed. "There is definitely no spouse. As for children, who knows the truth, if all were sorted out? I enjoyed a vagabond's life; I was as careless as a bird, and only too susceptible to the charms of winsome maidens, be they fairy, falloy or human. If I fathered children, how many or how they fare today is unknown to me. Sometimes I wonder but in those days I never gave thought to such things. All is past; tonight here sits Shimrod, sedate and crafty, in his peasant disguise. Meanwhile, how goes your life?"

Melancthe sighed. "Tamurello is back from Mount Kham-baste and the air is immediately rife with intrigue and rumor, which might or might not interest you."

"I am willing to listen."

Melancthe studied the flower as if seeing it for the first time. "I pay little heed. Occasionally I hear a name I recognize; then I turn my head to listen. For instance, are you acquainted with the magician Visbhume?"

"Not by such a name. What of this Visbhume; why is he notable?"

"For nothing in particular. Apparently he was at one time apprentice to a certain Hippolito, now dead."

"I have heard of Hippolito. He lived in the north of Dahaut."

"Visbhume approached Tamurello with some mad scheme, and Tamurello sent him packing." And Melancthe added primly: "Visbhume lacks all principle."

"How so?"

"Oh—this way and that. Lacking Tamurello's support he declared himself ready to serve King Casmir of Lyonesse. They think to attack King Aillas of Troicinet."

Shimrod tried to feign disinterest. "And so: what are his intentions?"

"There was talk of using the Princess Glyneth in their plans... . You appear to be stunned by this little rumor."

"Truly? I admit to affection for the Princess Glyneth. I would do my best to ward her from harm."

Melancthe leaned back in her chair and thoughtfully sipped wine from her goblet. Presently she spoke, in a soft even voice, though a subtle ear might have detected nuances of mockery and annoyance. "Amazing how chaste little virgins like Glyneth can excite such wild extravagances of gallantry, while other persons of equal worth, perhaps blemished by a goiter or a pock-mark or two, can lie suffering in the ditch, eliciting little if any notice."

Shimrod uttered a melancholy laugh. "The fact is real! The explanation derives from day-dreams and ideal concepts far more powerful than justice, truth and mercy all combined. But not in the case of Glyneth. She spills over with kindness; and she would never ignore those lying in the ditch. She is always merry; she is clean and fresh as the sunlight; she brings pleasure to the world by her sheer existence."

Melancthe seemed taken aback by the fervor of Shimrod's remarks. "In Shimrod she has a dedicated champion. I was unaware of your devotion."

"I know her well, and I love her as I would my own daughter."

Melancthe rose to her feet, mouth drooping. "I had forgotten; the subject bores me."

Shimrod also rose to his feet. "Melancthe, are you retiring for the night?"

"Yes; the common room grows noisy. You may join me if you like."

"Lacking all better alternative, I accept." Shimrod took Melancthe's arm and the two retired to the apartment behind the Door of the Two Green Lizards.

Shimrod put light to the candles in the candelabra on the table. Melancthe, standing in the center of the room, fixed the flower into her hair, watching Shimrod all the while. She let fall her brown robe and stood nude in the candlelight. "Shimrod: am I not beautiful?"

"Beyond all doubt; beyond all question! But put aside the flower; it detracts from you."

Melancthe pouted. "But I like it! Shimrod, come kiss me."

"Put aside the flower! I find it repellent."

"As you like." Melancthe tossed the flower to the table. "Now will you kiss me?"

"I will do better than that," said Shimrod, and so passed the first hours of the night.

At midnight, as the two lay pressed close together, Shimrod said: "I have an uneasy feeling that you were about to tell me something more of the wizard Visbhume."

"Yes, that is so."

"Then why will you not tell me?"

"Because I feared that you would become agitated and perform some instant and unnecessary act."

"What sort of act might that be?"

"There is nothing you can do now; Visbhume has already gone to Watershade and departed, for one of his private bolt-holes: a place known as Tanjecterly."

A cold chill came over Shimrod. "And he took Glyneth with him?"

"That is the rumor. But you can do nothing to prevent it.

The deed is done."

"Why did Visbhume do this?"

"He worked at Casmir's behest. Also, if Tamurello is to be believed, such projects are dear to Visbhume's heart."

"He must know that he has just put a short term to his life," said Shimrod.

Melancthe held him close. "I like you best when you are like this."

Shimrod thrust her away. "You should have told me at once, if you meant to tell me at all."

"Ah Shimrod! You must remember my mixed feelings for you. I am at ease and even happy with you, but soon I find that I want to hurt you and cause you every conceivable pain."

"You are lucky that I lack similar yearnings, even though you provoke them." Shimrod dressed himself.

"It is exactly as I feared," said Melancthe. "The impractical Shimrod hurries off to Tanjecterly and there rescues his dainty Glyneth."

"Where is Tanjecterly? How does one get there?"

"The route is detailed in the rarest of all books: one which Visbhume stole from Hippolito."

"And the name of the book?"

"Twitten's Almanac, or some such thing... . Shimrod! Are you truly going?"

The only response was the sound of the door closing behind Shimrod. Melancthe shrugged and presently fell asleep.

In the morning Melancthe went in great anticipation to the booth of Zuck the trader, where she was disappointed anew.

"I have spoken to the falloy," said Zuck. "There will be no more flowers at this fair; the plants yielded only the single blossom. There will be more in the fall, as the buds are already forming, and the falloy says that you must bring gold, as silver is not enough for wares so heady."