At rest upon the ground, Vermoulian’s wonderful peregrine palace, together with its loggias, formal gardens and entrance pavilion, occupied an octagonal site some three acres in extent. The plan of the palace proper was that of a four-pointed star, with a crystal spire at each apex and a spire, somewhat taller, at the center, in which Vermoulian maintained his private chambers. A marble balustrade enclosed the forward pavilion. At the center a fountain raised a hundred jets of water; to either side grew lime trees with silver blossoms and silver fruit. The quadrangles to the right and left were laid out as formal gardens; the area at the rear was planted with herbs and salads for the palace kitchen.

Vermoulian’s guests occupied suites in the wings; under the central spire were the various salons, the morning and afternoon rooms, the library, the music chamber, the formal dining room and the lounge.

An hour after sunrise the magicians began to arrive, with Gilgad first on the scene and Ildefonse the last. Vermoulian, his nonchalance restored, greeted each magician with carefully measured affability. After inspecting their suites the magicians gathered in the grand salon. Vermoulian addressed the group. “It is my great pleasure to entertain so distinguished a company! Our goal: the rescue of the hero Morreion! All present are keen and dedicated — but do all understand that we must wander far regions?” Vermoulian turned his placid gaze from face to face. “Are all prepared for tedium, discomfort and danger? Such may well eventuate, and if any have doubts or if any pursue subsidiary goals, such as a search for IOUN stones, now is the time for these persons to return to their respective manses, castles, caves, and eyries. Are any so inclined? No? We depart.”

Vermoulian bowed to his now uneasy guests. He mounted to the control belvedere where he cast a spell of buoyancy upon the palace; it rose to drift on the morning breeze like a pinnacled cloud. Vermoulian consulted his Celestial Almanac and made note of certain symbols; these he inscribed upon the carnelian mandate-wheel, which he set into rotation; the signs were spun off into the interflux, to elucidate a route across the universe. Vermoulian fired a taper and held it to the speed-incense; the palace departed; ancient Earth and the waning sun were left behind.

Beside the marble balustrade stood Rhialto. Ildefonse came to join him; the two watched Earth dwindle to a rosy-pink crescent. Ildefonse spoke in a melancholy voice: “When one undertakes a journey of this sort, where the event is unknown, long thoughts come of their own accord. I trust that you left your affairs in order?”

“My household is not yet settled,” said Rhialto. “Puiras has proved unsatisfactory; when drunk he sings and performs grotesque capers; when sober he is as surly as a leech on a corpse. This morning I demoted him to Minuscule.”

Ildefonse nodded absently. “I am troubled by what I fear to be cross-purposes among our colleagues, worthy fellows though they may be.”

“You refer to the ‘shining fields’ of IOUN stones?” Rhialto put forward delicately.

“I do. As Vermoulian categorically declared, we fare forth to the rescue of Morreion. The IOUN stones can only prove a distraction. Even if a supply were discovered, I suspect that the interests of all might best be served by a highly selective distribution, the venal Gilgad’s complaints notwithstanding.”

“There is much to be said for this point of view,” Rhialto admitted. “It is just as well to have a prior understanding upon a matter so inherently controversial. Vermoulian of course must be allotted a share.”

“This goes without saying.”

At this moment Vermoulian descended to the pavilion where he was approached by Mune the Mage, Hurtiancz and the others. Mune raised a question regarding their destination. “The question of ultimates becomes important. How, Vermoulian, can you know that this precise direction will take us to Morreion?”

“A question well put,” said Vermoulian. “To respond, I must cite an intrinsic condition of the universe. We set forth in any direction which seems convenient; each leads to the same place: the end of the universe.”

“Interesting!” declared Zilifant. “In this case, we must inevitably find Morreion; an encouraging prospect!”

Gilgad was not completely satisfied. “What of the ‘shining fields’ in the reference? Where are these located?”

“A matter of secondary or even tertiary concern,” Ildefonse reminded him. “We must think only of the hero Morreion.”

“Your solicitude is late by several aeons,” said Gilgad waspishly. “Morreion may well have grown impatient.”

“Other circumstances intervened,” said Ildefonse with a frown of annoyance. “Morreion will certainly understand the situation.”

Zilifant remarked. “The conduct of Xexamedes becomes ever more puzzling! As a renegade archveult, he has no ostensible reason to oblige either Morreion, the archveults, or ourselves.”

“The mystery in due course will be resolved,” said Herark the Harbinger.

7

So went the voyage. The palace drifted through the stars, under and over clouds of flaming gas, across gulfs of deep black space. The magicians meditated in the pergolas, exchanged opinions in the salons over goblets of liquor, lounged upon the marble benches of the pavilion, leaned on the balustrade to look down at the galaxies passing below. Breakfasts were served in the individual suites, luncheons were usually set forth al fresco on the pavilion, the dinners were sumptuous and formal and extended far into the night. To enliven these evenings Vermoulian called forth the most charming, witty and beautiful women of all the past eras, in their quaint and splendid costumes. They found the peregrine palace no less remarkable than the fact of their own presence aboard. Some thought themselves dreaming; others conjectured their own deaths; a few of the more sophisticated made the correct presumption. To facilitate social intercourse Vermoulian gave them command of contemporary language, and the evenings frequently became merry affairs. Rhialto became enamored of a certain Mersei from the land of Mith, long since foundered under the waters of the Shan Ocean. Mersei’s charm resided in her slight body, her grave pale face behind which thoughts could be felt but not seen. Rhialto plied her with all gallantry, but she failed to respond, merely looking at him in disinterested silence, until Rhialto wondered if she were slack-witted, or possibly more subtle than himself. Either case made him uncomfortable, and he was not sorry when Vermoulian returned this particular group to oblivion.

Through clouds and constellations they moved, past bursting galaxies and meandering star-streams; through a region where the stars showed a peculiar soft violet and hung in clouds of pale green gas; across a desolation where nothing whatever was seen save a few far luminous clouds. Then presently they came to a new region, where blazing white giants seemed to control whirlpools of pink, blue and white gas, and the magicians lined the balustrade looking out at the spectacle.

At last the stars thinned; the great star-streams were lost in the distance. Space seemed darker and heavier, and finally there came a time when all the stars were behind and nothing lay ahead but darkness. Vermoulian made a grave announcement. “We are now close to the end of the universe! We must go with care. ‘Nothing’ lies ahead.”

“Where then is Morreion?” demanded Hurtiancz. “Surely he is not to be found wandering vacant space.”

“Space is not yet vacant,” stated Vermoulian. “Here there and roundabout are dead stars and wandering star-hulks; in a sense, we traverse the refuse-heap of the universe, where the dead stars come to await a final destiny; and notice, yonder, far ahead, a single star, the last in the universe. We must approach with caution; beyond lies ‘Nothing’.”

“‘Nothing’ is not yet visible,” remarked Ao of the Opals.

“Look more closely!” said Vermoulian. “Do you see that dark wall? That is ‘Nothing’.”

“Again,” said Perdustin, “the question arises: where is Morreion? Back at Ildefonse’s castle, when we formed conjectures, the end of the universe seemed a definite spot. Now that we are here, we find a considerable latitude of choice.”

Gilgad muttered, half to himself, “The expedition is a farce. I see no ‘fields’, shining or otherwise.”

Vermoulian said, “The solitary star would seem an initial object of investigation. We approach at a rash pace; I must slake the speed-incense.”

The magicians stood by the balustrade watching as the far star waxed in brightness. Vermoulian called down from the belvedere to announce a lone planet in orbit around the sun.

“A possibility thereby exists,” stated Mune the Mage, “that on this very planet we may find Morreion.”

8

The palace moved down to the solitary star and the lone planet became a disk the color of moth-wing. Beyond, clearly visible in the wan sunlight, stood the ominous black wall. Hurtiancz said, “Xexamedes’ warning now becomes clear — assuming, of course, that Morreion inhabits this drab and isolated place.”

The world gradually expanded, to show a landscape dreary and worn. A few decayed hills rose from the plains; as many ponds gleamed sullenly in the sunlight. The only other features of note were the ruins of once-extensive cities; a very few buildings had defied the ravages of time sufficiently to display a squat and distorted architecture.

The palace settled close above one of the ruins; a band of small weasel-like rodents bounded away into the scrub; no other sign of life was evident. The palace continued west around the planet. Vermoulian presently called down from the belvedere: “Notice the cairn; it marks an ancient thoroughfare.”

Other cairns at three-mile intervals appeared, mounds of carefully fitted stones six feet high; they marked a way around the planet.

At the next tumble of ruins Vermoulian, observing a level area, allowed the palace to settle so that the ancient city and its cluster of surviving structures might be explored.

The magicians set off in various directions, the better to pursue their investigations. Gilgad went towards the desolate plaza, Perdustin and Zilifant to the civic amphitheatre, Hurtiancz into a nearby tumble of sandstone blocks. Ildefonse, Rhialto, Mune the Mage and Herark the Harbinger wandered at random, until a raucous chanting brought them up short.

“Peculiar!” exclaimed Herark. “It sounds like the voice of Hurtiancz, the most dignified of men!”

The group entered a cranny through the ruins, which opened into a large chamber, protected from sifting sand by massive blocks of rock. Light filtered through various chinks and apertures; down the middle ran a line of six long slabs. At the far end sat Hurtiancz, watching the entry of the magicians with an imperturbable gaze. On the slab in front of him stood a globe of dark brown glass, or glazed stone. A rack behind him held other similar bottles.

“It appears,” said Ildefonse, “that Hurtiancz has stumbled upon the site of the ancient tavern.”

“Hurtiancz!” Rhialto called out. “We heard your song and came to investigate. What have you discovered?”

Hurtiancz hawked and spat on the ground. “Hurtiancz!” cried Rhialto. “Do you hear me? Or have you taken too much of this ancient tipple to be sensible?”

Hurtiancz replied in a clear voice, “In one sense I have taken too much: in another, not enough.”

Mune the Mage picked up the brown glass bottle and smelled the contents. “Astringent, tart, herbal.” He tasted the liquid. “It is quite refreshing.”

Ildefonse and Herark the Harbinger each took a brown glass globe from the rack and broke open the bung; they were joined by Rhialto and Mune the Mage.

Ildefonse, as he drank, became garrulous, and presently he fell to speculating in regard to the ancient city: “Just as from one bone the skilled palaeontologist deduces an entire skeleton, so from a single artifact the qualified scholar reconstructs every aspect of the responsible race. As I taste this liquor, as I examine this bottle, I ask myself, What do the dimensions, textures, colors and flavors betoken? No intelligent act is without symbolic significance.”

Hurtiancz, upon taking drink, tended to become gruff and surly. Now he stated in an uncompromising voice, “The subject is of small import.”