"This is an impractical suggestion," said King Throbius. "It is your blood which is needed! Quickly! We cannot waste all day!"
Madouc, scowling and wincing, allowed Osfer to draw three minims of her blood, from which Osfer contrived a second simulacrum.
"Now then!" said Osfer. "We proceed as follows: Madouc is the sum of Twisk and an unknown father. Therefore, if we subtract the influence of Twisk from Madouc, what remains will depict the visage of Madouc"s father, at least in general terms and perhaps blurred by discrepancies. So, stand back all, since I must work with a delicate touch!"
Osfer moved the two representations so that they faced each other, then arranged four panels of gra.s.s cloth to form a screen around the two heads. "I now adjure all to silence! Any distraction will alter the precision of my work!"
Osfer arranged his instruments, uttered eight staccato syllables, and clapped his hands. "The spell has been effected."
Osfer removed the screens. One of the silver plates was empty. "Twisk"s image has been subtracted from that of Madouc. What remains is the likeness of Madouc"s sire!"
Madouc stared at the residual face. With only half the substance, it was vague and colorless, as if formed of mist. The features seemed to represent a young man with irregular features in a rather gaunt long-jawed face and a suggestion of reckless optimism in his expression. His hair was cut in the Aquitanian style, and he wore a short modish beard at the chin. The face, though not ill-favored, lacked a patrician cast. Even in its blurred condition, the face affected Madouc with a rush of warm impulses.
Twisk was staring at the face in fascination. Madouc asked: "What is his name?"
Twisk, now thoroughly out of sorts, made a capricious gesture and tossed her head. "His name? It might be anyone. The features are indefinite; it is like looking through the fog."
"Surely you recognize him?" cried Madouc. "He even looks half-familiar to me."
Twisk gave an airy shrug. "Why should he not? You are seeing what is drawn from your own face."
"Whatever the case, can you supply his name?"
Twisk said carelessly: "I am truly bored with this business! I can barely distinguish a face in yonder puddle of murk; how can I give it a name?"
"But is he not familiar to you?"
"I might say "Yes" and I might say "No"."
King Throbius spoke gently: "As Falael will attest, my patience knows a limit. Unless you care to sit on a post, scratching your lovely pelt with both hands, you will respond to questions quickly and accurately, without evasion or ambiguity. Am I clear on this?"
Twisk uttered a cry of poignant emotion. "Alas! How I am wronged, when my only concern is truth!"
"Please make your elucidations less abstract."
Twisk blinked. "Excuse me, Your Highness, I am not certain of your command!"
"Speak more clearly!"
"Very well, but now I have forgotten the question."
King Throbius spoke with a carefully controlled voice. "Do you recognize the face?"
"Of course! How could I forget? He was a gallant knight of verve and a most fanciful habit of thought! My ordeal at Idilra Post followed hard upon the encounter and swept it clean from my mind."
"Very well; so much is established. Name us now the name of this gallant knight."
"Quite possible! Sir Pellinore played the lute with delicate grace, and his songs were so sweet as to bring tears from a bear."
Madouc struggled to control her emotion. "Why did you not try to rescue poor Sir Pellinore, whom you loved so well?"
Twisk fluffed out her lavender hair. "My attention was engaged by other events, not the least being the affair at Idilra Post. One such as I lives from instant to instant, wringing every last drop of sklemik* from the adventure of life. So the hours and the days pa.s.s, and sometimes I cannot remember which was which or what comes next."
*Untranslatable: a fairy word signifying (1) pa.s.sionate receptivity or involvement with each instant of life; (2) a kind of euphoria induced by close attention to unpredictable changes in the perceived surroundings as one instant metamorphoses into the next; a dedicated awareness to NOW; a sensitivity to the various elements of NOW. The concept of skiemik is relatively simple and quite bereft of mysticism or symbol.
Madouc said without enthusiasm: "Regardless of your faults or follies, you are my mother, and I must accept you as you are, lavender hair and all."
"A dutiful daughter is not so bad either," said Twisk. "I am pleased to hear your compliments."
CHAPTER NiNE.
King Throbius grew weary and decided to sit. With a gesture he brought a throne from the castle and caused it to be placed directly at his back. The implets who carried his train scurried frantically lest the throne pin the royal cloak to the turf, with consequences painful to themselves.
King Throbius settled himself upon the throne: a construction of ebony riveted with rosettes of black iron and pearl, surmounted by a fan of ostrich plumes. For a moment King Throbius sat upright, while the implets, working at speed, though with quarrelling and bickering, arranged his train to its best display. He then leaned back to take his comfort.
Queen Bossum sauntered past on her way to the castle, where she would change to a costume suitable for the activities she had planned for the afternoon. She paused beside the throne and proffered a suggestion which King Throbius found persuasive. Queen Bossum continued to the castle and King Throbius summoned three of his officials: Triollet, the Lord High Steward; Mipps, Chief Victualler to the Royal Board; and Chaskervil, Keeper of the Bins.
The three responded with alacrity and listened in respectful silence while King Throbius issued his instructions. "Today is auspicious," said King Throbius in his roundest tones. "We have discomfited the troll Mangeon, and minimized his predilection for certain wicked tricks. Mangeon will think twice be fore attempting new affronts!"
"It is a proud day!" declared Mipps.
"It is a day of triumph!" cried Triollet fervently.
"I concur with both my colleagues, in every respect!" stated Chaskervil.
"Just so," said King Throbius. "We shall signal the occasion with a small but superb banquet of twenty courses, to be served upon the castle terrace, thirty guests and five hundred flicker-lamps. Address yourselves to the perfection of this event!"
"It shall be done!" cried Triollet.
The three officials hurried off to implement the royal command. King Throbius relaxed into his throne. He surveyed the meadow, that he might observe his subjects and appraise their conduct. He took note of Madouc, where she stood by Osfer"s table, sadly watching Sir Pellinore"s face dissolve into mist.
"Hm," said King Throbius to himself. He stepped down from his throne and with a stately tread approached the table. "Madouc, I notice that your face shows little joy, even though your most ardent hope has been realized! You have learned the ident.i.ty of your father, and your curiosity is gratified; am I not correct?"
Madouc gave her head a wistful shake. "I must now discover whether he is alive or dead and, if alive, where he abides. My quest has become more difficult than ever!"
"Nevertheless, you should be clapping your pretty hands for joy! We have demonstrated that the troll Mangeon is not included among your forbears. This, by itself, should induce an almost delirious euphoria."
Madouc managed the quiver of a smile. "In this regard, Your Highness, I am happy beyond words!"
"Good!" King Throbius pulled at his beard and glanced around the meadow, to discover the whereabouts of Queen Bossum. At the moment she was nowhere in sight. King Throbius spoke in a somewhat lighter voice than before: "Tonight we shall celebrate Mangeon"s defeat! There will be a banquet both elegant and exclusive; only persons of special eclat will be present, all in full regalia. We will dine on the terrace under five hundred ghost-lanterns; the viands will be exquisite, equally so the wines! The feast will proceed until midnight, to be followed by a pavane under the moon, to melodies of the utmost sweetness."
"It sounds very fine," said Madouc.
"That is our intent. Now then: since you are visiting the shee in a special capacity, and have achieved a certain reputation, you will be allowed to attend the banquet." King Throbius stood back, smiling and toying with his beard. "You have heard the invitation; will you elect to be present?"
Madouc looked uneasily off across the meadow, uncertain how best to reply. She felt the king"s gaze on her face; darting a side glance she discovered an expression which surprised her. It was like that she had once glimpsed in the red-brown eyes of a fox. Madouc blinked; when she looked back, King Throbius was as bland and stately as ever.
Once again King Throbius asked: "How say you? Will you attend the banquet? The queen"s own seamstress shall provide your gown-perhaps a delicious trifle woven of dandelion fluff, or a flutter of spider-silk stained with pomegranate."