Shimrod tried to take her to the turf. "Now."
"No, Shimrod! After!"
The two stared eye to eye, Shimrod thought, I dare press her no further; already I have forced her to a statement.
He closed his fingertips against an amulet and spoke between his teeth the syllables of a spell which had lain heavy in his mind, and time separated into seven strands. One strand of the seven lengthened and looped away at right angles, to create a temporal hiatus; along this strand moved Shimrod, while Melancthe, the clearing in the forest and all beyond remained static.
Chapter 14.
MURGEN RESIDED AT SWER SMOD, a stone manse of fifty vast echoing chambers, high in the Teach tac Teach.
At the best speed of the feathered boots Shimrod flew, bounded and leapt along the East-West Road from Twitten"s Corner to Oswy Undervale, then by a side trail to Swer Smod. Murgen"s dreadful sentries allowed him to pa.s.s unchallenged.
The front door opened at Shimrod"s approach. He entered to find Murgen awaiting him at a large table laid with a linen cloth and silver utensils.
"Be seated," said Murgen. "You will be both hungry and thirsty."
"I am both."
Servants brought tureens and platters; Shimrod satisfied his hunger while Murgen tasted trifles of this and that, and listened silently while Shimrod told of his dreams, of Melancthe and the opening into Irerly.
"I feel that she came to me under compulsion, otherwise her conduct can"t be explained. At one moment she shows an almost childlike cordiality, the next she becomes totally cynical in her calculations. Purportedly she wants thirteen gems from Irerly, but I suspect that her motives are otherwise. She is so sure of my infatuation that she barely troubles to dissemble."
Murgen said: "The affair exudes the odor of Tamurello. If he defeats you he weakens me. Then, since he uses Melancthe, his agency cannot be proved. He toyed with the witch Desmei, then tired of her. For revenge she contrived two creatures of ideal beauty: Melancthe and Faude Carfilhiot. She intended that Melancthe, aloof and unattainable, should madden Tamurello. Alas for Desmei Tamurello preferred Faude Carfilhiot who is far from aloof; together they range the near and far sh.o.r.es of unnatural junction."
"How could Tamurello control Melancthe?"
"I have no inkling of how it might be, if indeed he is involved."
"So then-what should I do?"
"Yours is the pa.s.sion; you must fulfill it as you choose."
"Well then, what of Irerly?"
"If you go there as you are now, you will never return; that is my guess."
Shimrod spoke sadly: "I find it hard to join such faithlessness with such beauty. She gambles a dangerous game, with her living self for her stake."
"No less do you, with your dead self as yours."
Shimrod, daunnted by the thought, sat back in his chair. "Worst of all she intends to win. And yet..."
Murgen waited. ""And yet?""
"Only that."
"I see." Murgen poured wine into the two gla.s.ses. "She must not win, if for no other reason than to thwart Tamurello. Now and perhaps forever hence I am preoccupied with Doom. I saw the portent in the form of a tall sea-green wave. 1 must address myself to the problem and you may have my power perhaps before you are ready for it. Prepare yourself, Shimrod. But first: purge yourself of the infatuation, and there is but a single means to this end."
Shimrod returned to Twitten"s Corner on his feathered feet. He proceeded to the glade where he had left Melancthe; she stood as he had left her. He searched the glade; no one skulked in the shade. He looked into the portal: green striations swam and swirled to blur the pa.s.sage into Irerly. From his pouch he took a ball of yarn. After knotting the loose end into a crack in the iron of the door, he tossed the ball into the opening. Now he rewove the seven strands of time, and re-entered the ordinary environment. Melancthe"s words still hung in the air: "And then you will see."
"You must promise."
Melancthe sighed. "When you come back, you shall have all my love."
Shimrod reflected. "And we shall be lovers, in spirit and body; so you promise?"
Melancthe winced and closed her eyes. "Yes. I will praise you and caress you and you may commit your erotic fornications upon my body. Is that definite enough?"
"I will accept it in lieu of anything better. Tell me something of Irerly and what I must look for."
"You will find yourself in an interesting land of living mountains. They bellow and yell, but for the most part it is all braggadocio. I am told that they are ordinarily benign."
"And should I encounter one of the other sort?"
Melancthe smiled her pensive smile. "Then we shall avoid the qualms and perplexities of your return."
That remark, thought Shimrod, might as happily been left unsaid.
Melancthe went on in an abstracted voice. "Perceptions occur by unusual methods." She gave Shimrod three small transparent disks. "These will expedite your search; in fact, you will go instantly mad without them. As soon as you pa.s.s the portal, place these on your cheeks and your forehead; they are sandestin scales and will accommodate your senses to Irerly. What is that pack you carry? I had not noticed it before."
"Personal effects and the like; don"t concern yourself. What of the gems?"
"They occur in thirteen colors not known here. Their function, either here or there, I do not know, but you must find them and bring them away."
"Exactly so," said Shimrod. "Now kiss me, to demonstrate good will."
"Shimrod, you are far too frivolous."
"And trusting?"
Melancthe, as Shimrod watched, seemed to flicker, or give a quick jerk of movement. Now she was smiling. ""Trusting"? Not altogether. Now then, even to enter Irerly, you will need this sheath. It is stuff to protect you from emanations. Take these as well." She tendered a pair of iron scorpions crawling at the end of golden chains. "These are named Hither and Thither. One will take you there; the other will bring you here. You need nothing more."
"And you will wait here?"
"Yes, dear Shimrod. Now go."
Shimrod enveloped himself in the sheath, placed the sandestin scales to his forehead and cheeks, took the iron charms. "Thither! Take me to Irerly!" He slipped into the pa.s.sage, picked up his ball of yarn and went forward. Green fluctuations swarmed and pulsed. A green wind whirled him afar, another force of mingled mauve and blue-green sent him careening in other directions. The yarn spun out between his fingers. The iron scorpion known as Thither gave a great bound and pulled Shimrod to a pa.s.sing luminosity, and down into Irerly.
Chapter 15.
IN IRERLY CONDITIONS WERE LESS EASY than Shimrod had hoped. The sheath of sandestin-stuff lacked consistency and allowed sound and two other Irerlish sentiments, toice and gliry, to chafe against his flesh. The iron insects, both Hither and Thither, at once shriveled into mounds of ash. The fabric of Irerly was viciously malign, or-so Shimrod speculated-the creatures might not have been sandestins after all. Further, the disks intended to a.s.sist perception were out of proper adjustment, and Shimrod experienced a startling set of dislocations: a sound that reached him as a jet of ill-smelling liquid; other scents were red cones and yellow triangles which, upon adjustment of the disks, disappeared completely. Vision expressed itself as taut lines striking across s.p.a.ce, dripping fire.
He worked at the disks, testing various orientations, quivering to implausible pains and sounds which crawled across his skin on spider-legs, until by accident the incoming percepts made contact with the appropriate areas of his brain. The unpleasant sensations dwindled, at least temporarily, and Shimrod gratefully took stock of Irerly.
He apprehended a landscape of vast extent dotted with isolated mountains of gray-yellow custard, each terminating in a ludicrous semi-human face. All faces were turned toward himself, displaying outrage and censure. Some showed cataclysmic scowls and grimaces, others produced thunderous belches of disdain. The most intemperate extruded a pair of liver-colored tongues, dripping magma which tinkled in falling, like small bells; one or two spat jets of hissing green sound, which Shimrod avoided, so that they struck other mountains, to cause new disturbance.
Shimrod in accordance with Murgen"s instructions, called out in an amicable voice: "Gentlemen, gentlemen! Tranquility! After all, I am a guest in your remarkable domain, and I deserve your consideration!"
One great mountain, seventy-five miles distant, roared in a crescendo: "Others named themselves guests, but instead proved to be thieves and predators! They came to plunder us of our thunder-eggs; now we trust no one. I request the mountains Mank and Elfard to concatenate upon your substance."
Shimrod again called for attention. "I am not what you think! The great magicians of the Elder Isles recognize the harms you have endured. They marvel at your stoic patience. Indeed, I have been sent here to make commendations for these qualities and your general excellence. Never have I witnessed magma ejected with such precision! Never before have there been such grotesque gesticulations."
"That is easy to say," grumbled the mountain who previously had spoken.
"Further," declared Shimrod, "I and my fellows vie in our detestation of thieves and predators. We have killed several and now wish to restore the booty. Gentlemen, I have here as many of your thunder-eggs as was possible to recover on short notice." He opened his knapsack and poured out a" number of river pebbles. The mountains displayed doubt and bafflement, and several began to produce small jets of magma.
A strip of parchment emerged from Shimrod"s sack. He plucked it from the atmosphere and read: "I, Murgen, write these words. You now know that beauty and faith are not interchangeable qualities! After you deceived the witch Melancthe with a hiatus, she worked a similar trick and plucked you clean of your thunder-eggs, so that the mountains might strike you with jets of magma. I suspected such a trick and stood by, to work a third hiatus, during which I replaced in your pouch the thunder-eggs and all else she had stolen. Proceed as before, but go warily!"
Shimrod called out to the mountains: "And now, the thunder-eggs!" He groped into his pouch and brought forth a sack. With a flourish he spread the contents upon a nearby excrescence. The mountains became at once mollified and gave over their displays. One of the most notable, at a distance of a hundred and twenty miles, projected a meaning: "Well done! Accept our friendly welcome. Do you intend to reside here at length?"
"Urgent business calls me home almost immediately. I merely wished to restore your property and to take note of your splendid achievements."
"Allow me to explain a few aspects of our beloved land. As a basis you must understand that we subscribe to three competing religions: The Doctrine of Arcoid Clincture; the Shrouded Macrolith, which I personally consider a fallacy; and the n.o.ble Derelictionary Tocsin. These differ in significant detail." The mountain continued in this wise for a goodly period, propounding a.n.a.logies and examples and from time to time gently testing Shimrod"s understanding of the unfamiliar enlightenments.
Shimrod at last said: "Most interesting! My ideas have been profoundly altered."
"A pity you must depart! Do you intend to return, perhaps, with more thunder-eggs?"
"As soon as possible! In the meantime I would like to take with me a few souvenirs, to keep Irerly fresh in my memory."
"No problem whatever. What strikes your fancy?"
"Well-what about the small glittering objects which show many entrancing colors, thirteen in all? I might well accept a set of those."
"You refer to the florid little pustules which acc.u.mulate around certain of our orifices; we think of them as chancres, if you will forgive the word. Take as many as you like."
"In that case, however many will fit into this pouch."
"It will accommodate only a single set. Mank, Idisk! A few of your choicest pustules, if you will! Now, returning to our discussion of teleological anomalies, how do your own savants reconcile the various antic overviews to which we have made reference?"
"Well-in the main, they take the bad with the good."
"Aha! That would be consonant with Original Gnosticism, as I have long suspected. Well, perhaps strong feelings are unwise. You have packed your keepsakes? Good. Incidentally, how will you return? I notice that your sandestins have dissipated into dust."
"I need only follow this line to the portal."
"A clever theory! It implies a whole new and revolutionary logic."
A far mountain ejected high a jet of blue magma, to express displeasure. "As always, Dodar"s concepts almost superst.i.tiously range the inconceivable."
"Not so!" declared Dodar stoutly. "A final anecdote to ill.u.s.trate my point-but no! I see that Shimrod is anxious to depart. A pleasant journey then!"
Shimrod groped his way along the yarn, sometimes in several directions at once, through clouds of bitter music, across the soft bellies of what he whimsically conceived to be dead ideas. Green and blue winds thrust from below and above, with such force that he feared for the strength of the yarn, which seemed to have acquired a curious resilience. Finally the ball of yarn reached its original dimension and Shimrod knew that he must be close upon the aperture. He came upon a sandestin in the form of a fresh-faced boy, sitting on a rock and holding the end of the yarn.
Shimrod halted. The sandestin rose languidly erect. "You are carrying thirteen baubles?"
"So I am, and I am now ready to return." "Give me the baubles; I must convey them through the whorl." Shimrod demurred. "Better that I carry them. They are too delicate for the care of a subordinate."
The sandestin tossed aside the loose end of yarn and disappeared into green mist, and Shimrod was left holding a useless ball of yarn. Time pa.s.sed. Shimrod waited, ever more uncomfortable. His protective mantle had frayed to the verge of collapse and his perceptual disks were presenting sets of unreliable images.
The sandestin returned, with the air of one who had nothing better to do. "I am instructed as before. Give me the baubles."
"Not one. Does your mistress consider me such a mooncalf?"
The sandestin departed into a tangle of green membranes, looking with sardonic finality back over its shoulder.
Shimrod sighed. Faithlessness, utter and absolute, had been proved. From his pouch he brought those articles provided by Murgen: a sandestin of that sort known as a hexamorph, several capsules of gas, and a tile inscribed with the spell of Invincible Thrust.
Shimrod instucted the sandestin: "Lead me back through the whorl, back to the glade by Twitten"s Corner."
"The sphincter has been sealed by your enemies. We must go by way of the five clefts and a perturbation. Wear gas and prepare to use the spell."
Shimrod surrounded himself in gas from one of the bladders; it clung to him like syrup. The sandestin led him a far way, and eventually allowed him to rest. "Be at your ease; we must wait."
Time pa.s.sed, of a duration Shimrod could not reckon. The sandestin spoke: "Prepare your spell."
Shimrod took the syllables into his mind, and the runes faded from the tile, leaving a blank shard.
"Now. Speak your spell."
Shimrod stood in the glade where he had come with Melancthe. She was nowhere to be seen. The time was late afternoon on a gray chilly day of late autumn, or winter. Clouds hung low over the glade; trees surrounding held up stark branches, marking the sky with black. The face of the bluff no longer showed an iron door.
The Laughing Sun and The Crying Moon on this winter evening was warm and comfortable and almost empty of guests. Hockshank the landlord welcomed Shimrod with a polite smile. "I am happy to see you, sir. I feared that you had suffered a mishap."
"Your fears were by and large accurate."
"It is no novelty. Each year folk strangely disappear from the fair."
Shimrod"s garments were torn and the fabric had suffered rot; when he looked in the mirror he saw haggard cheeks, staring eyes and skin stained the curious brown of weathered wood.
After his supper he sat brooding by the fire. Melancthe, he reasoned, had sent him into Irerly for one of several possible purposes: to acquire the thirteen spangled gems, to ensure his death, or both. His death would seem her prime purpose. Otherwise she might have allowed him to bring out the gems. At the cost of her virtue? Shimrod smiled. She would break her promise as easily as she had broken faith.
In the morning Shimrod paid his score, adjusted the feathers to his new boots and departed Twitten"s Corner.
In due course he arrived at Trilda. The meadow showed dreary and bleak under the lowering clouds. An additional quality of desolation surrounded the manse. Shimrod approached, step by step, then halted to appraise the manse. The door hung ajar.