Shalukhe looked sidelong towards the sun where it hung low over the River Ts. “To a certain extent. Still, what if the sun goes out even while we sit here: what then?”

Rhialto rose to his feet and pulled her up after him; he kissed the upturned face. “Who knows? The sun may totter and lurch still another hundred years!”

The maiden sighed and pointed. “Ah! Notice how it blinks! It seems tired and troubled! But perhaps it will enjoy a restful night.”

Rhialto whispered a comment in her ear, to the effect that she should not expect the same. She gave his arm a tug, and the two, close together, walked slowly back to Falu.

III

Morreion

1

The archveult Xexamedes, digging gentian roots in Were Wood, became warm with exertion. He doffed his cloak and returned to work, but the glint of blue scales was noticed by Herark the Harbinger and the diabolist Shrue. Approaching by stealth they leapt forth to confront the creature. Then, flinging a pair of nooses about the supple neck, they held him where he could do no mischief.

After great effort, a hundred threats and as many lunges, twists and charges on the part of Xexamedes, the magicians dragged him to the castle of Ildefonse, where other magicians of the region gathered in high excitement.

In times past Ildefonse had served the magicians as preceptor and he now took charge of the proceedings. He first inquired the archveult’s name.

“I am Xexamedes, as well you know, old Ildefonse!”

“Yes,” said Ildefonse, “I recognize you now, though my last view was your backside, as we sent you fleeting back to Jangk. Do you realize that you have incurred death by returning?”

“Not so, Ildefonse, since I am no longer an archveult of Jangk. I am an immigrant of Earth; I declare myself reverted to the estate of a man. Even my fellows hold me in low esteem.”

“Well and good,” said Ildefonse. “However, the ban was and is explicit. Where do you now house yourself?” The question was casual, and Xexamedes made an equally bland response.

“I come, I go; I savor the sweet airs of Earth, so different from the chemical vapors of Jangk.”

Ildefonse was not to be put off. “What appurtenances did you bring: specifically, how many IOUN stones?”

“Let us talk of other matters,” suggested Xexamedes. “I now wish to join your local coterie, and, as a future comrade to all present, I find these nooses humiliating.”

The short-tempered Hurtiancz bellowed, “Enough impudence! What of the IOUN stones?”

“I carry a few such trinkets,” replied Xexamedes with dignity.

“Where are they?”

Xexamedes addressed himself to Ildefonse. “Before I respond, may I inquire your ultimate intentions?”

Ildefonse pulled at his white beard and raised his eyes to the chandelier. “Your fate will hinge upon many factors. I suggest that you produce the IOUN stones.”

“They are hidden under the floorboards of my cottage,” said Xexamedes in a sulky voice.

“Which is situated where?”

“At the far edge of Were Wood.”

Rhialto the Marvellous leapt to his feet. “All wait here! I will verify the truth of the statement!”

The sorcerer Gilgad held up both arms. “Not so fast! I know the region exactly! I will go!”

Ildefonse spoke in a neutral voice. “I hereby appoint a committee to consist of Rhialto, Gilgad, Mune the Mage, Hurtiancz, Kilgas, Ao of the Opals, and Barbanikos. This group will go to the cottage and bring back all contraband. The proceedings are adjourned until your return.”

2

The adjuncts of Xexamedes were in due course set forth on a sideboard in Ildefonse’s great hall, including thirty-two IOUN stones: spheres, ellipsoids, spindles, each approximately the size of a small plum, each displaying inner curtains of pale fire. A net prevented them from drifting off like dream-bubbles.

“We now have a basis for further investigation,” said Ildefonse. “Xexamedes, exactly what is the source of these potent adjuncts?”

Xexamedes jerked his tall black plumes in surprise, either real or simulated. He was yet constrained by the two nooses. Haze of Wheary Water held one rope, Barbanikos the other, to ensure that Xexamedes could touch neither. Xexamedes inquired, “What of the indomitable Morreion? Did he not reveal his knowledge?”

Ildefonse frowned in puzzlement. “‘Morreion’? I had almost forgotten the name … What were the circumstances?”

Herark the Harbinger, who knew lore of twenty aeons, stated: “After the archveults were defeated, a contract was made. The archveults were given their lives, and in turn agreed to divulge the source of the IOUN stones. The noble Morreion was ordered forth to learn the secret and was never heard from since.”

“He was instructed in all the procedures,” declared Xexamedes. “If you wish to learn — seek out Morreion!”

Ildefonse asked, “Why did he not return?”

“I cannot say. Does anyone else wish to learn the source of the stones? I will gladly demonstrate the procedure once again.”

For a moment no one spoke. Then Ildefonse suggested, “Gilgad, what of you? Xexamedes has made an interesting proposal.”

Gilgad licked his thin brown lips. “First, I wish a verbal description of the process.”

“By all means,” said Xexamedes. “Allow me to consult a document.” He stepped toward the sideboard, drawing Haze and Barbanikos together; then he leaped back. With the slack thus engendered he grasped Barbanikos and exuded a galvanic impulse. Sparks flew from Barbanikos’ ears; he jumped into the air and fell down in a faint. Xexamedes snatched the rope from Haze and before anyone could prevent him, he fled from the great hall.

“After him!” bawled Ildefonse. “He must not escape!”

The magicians gave chase to the fleet archveult. Across the Scaum hills, past Were Wood ran Xexamedes; like hounds after a fox came the magicians. Xexamedes entered Were Wood and doubled back, but the magicians suspected a trick and were not deceived.

Leaving the forest Xexamedes approached Rhialto’s manse and took cover beside the aviary. The bird-women set up an alarm and old Funk, Rhialto’s servitor, hobbled forth to investigate.

Gilgad now spied Xexamedes and exerted his Instantaneous Electric Effort — a tremendous many-pronged dazzle which not only shivered Xexamedes but destroyed Rhialto’s aviary, shattered his antique way-post and sent poor old Funk dancing across the sward on stilts of crackling blue light.

3

A linden leaf clung to the front door of Rhialto’s manse, pinned by a thorn. A prank of the wind, thought Rhialto, and brushed it aside. His new servant Puiras, however, picked it up and, in a hoarse grumbling voice, read:

NOTHING THREATENS MORREION

“What is this regarding Morreion?” demanded Rhialto. Taking the leaf he inspected the minute silver characters. “A gratuitous reassurance.” A second time he discarded the leaf and gave Puiras his final instructions. “At midday prepare a meal for the Minuscules — gruel and tea will suffice. At sunset serve out the thrush pâté. Next, I wish you to scour the tile of the great hall. Use no sand, which grinds at the luster of the glaze. Thereafter, clear the south sward of debris; you may use the aeolus, but take care; blow only down the yellow reed; the black reed summons a gale, and we have had devastation enough. Set about the aviary; salvage all useful material. If you find corpses, deal with them appropriately. Is so much clear?”