Gradually the surface of the pool became smooth. The image of the woman was no longer visible.
Rhialto trudged glumly back to Falu, where he indulged himself in a hot bath and drank verbena tea.
For a period he sat in his work-room, studying various books from the 18th Aeon. The adventure in the forest had not agreed with him. He felt feverish and ringing noises sounded in his ears.
Rhialto at last prepared himself a prophylactic tonic which caused him even greater discomfort. He took to his bed, swallowed a soporific tablet, and at last fell into a troubled sleep.
The indisposition persisted for three days. On the morning of the fourth day Rhialto communicated with the magician Ildefonse, at his manse Boumergarth beside the River Scaum.
Ildefonse felt sufficient concern that he flew at speed to Falu in the smallest of his whirlaways.
In full detail Rhialto described the events which had culminated at the still pool in the forest. “So there you have it. I am anxious to learn your opinion.”
Ildefonse looked frowning off toward the forest. Today he used his ordinary semblance: that of a portly middle-aged gentleman with thin blond whiskers, a balding pate, and a manner of jovial innocence. The two magicians sat under the purple plumanthia arbor to the side of Falu. On a nearby table, Ladanque had arranged a service of fancy pastries, three varieties of tea and a decanter of soft white wine. “Extraordinary, certainly,” said Ildefonse, “especially when taken with a recent experience of my own.”
Rhialto glanced sharply sidelong toward Ildefonse. “You were played a similar trick?”
Ildefonse responded in measured tones: “The answer is both ‘yes’ and ‘no’.”
“Interesting,” said Rhialto.
Ildefonse selected his words with care. “Before I elaborate, let me ask this: have you ever before heard this, let us say, ‘shadow music’?”
“Never.”
“And its purport was — ?”
“Indescribable. Neither tragic nor gay; sweet, yet wry and bitter.”
“Did you perceive a melody, or theme, or even a progression, which might give us a clue?”
“Only a hint. If you will allow me a trifle of preciosity, it filled me with a yearning for the lost and unattainable.”
“Aha!” said Ildefonse. “And the woman? Something must have identified her as the Murthe?”
Rhialto considered. “Her pallor and silver hair might have been that of a forest wefkin, in the guise of an antique nymph. Her beauty was real, but I felt no urge to embrace her. I daresay all might have changed upon better acquaintance.”
“Hmmf. Your elegant airs, so I suspect, will carry small weight with the Murthe … When did her identity occur to you?”
“I became certain as I slogged home, water squelching in my boots. My mood was glum; perhaps the squalm was starting its work. In any case, woman and music came together in my mind and the name evolved. Once home I instantly read Calanctus and took advice. The squalm apparently was real. Today I was finally able to call on you.”
“You should have called before, though I have had similar problems … What is that irksome noise?”
Rhialto looked along the road. “Someone is approaching in a vehicle … It appears to be Zanzel Melancthones.”
“And what is that strange bounding thing behind him?”
Rhialto craned his neck. “It is unclear … We shall soon find out.”
Along the road, rolling at speed on four tall wheels, came a luxurious double-divan of fifteen golden-ocher cushions. A man-like creature attached by a chain ran behind in the dust.
Rising to his feet, Ildefonse held up his hand. “Halloa, Zanzel! It is I, Ildefonse! Where do you go in such haste? Who is that curious creature coursing so fleetly behind?”
Zanzel brought the vehicle to a halt. “Ildefonse, and dear Rhialto: how good to see you both! I had quite forgotten that this old road passes by Falu, and I discover it now to my pleasure.”
“It is our joint good fortune!” declared Ildefonse. “And your captive?”
Zanzel glanced over his shoulder. “We have here an insidiator: that is my reasoned opinion. I am taking him to be executed where his ghost will bring me no bad luck. What of yonder meadow? It is safely clear of my domain.”
“And hard on my own,” growled Rhialto. “You must find a spot convenient to us both.”
“What of me?” cried the captive. “Have I nothing to say in the matter?”
“Well then, convenient to the three of us.”
“Just a moment, before you prosecute your duties,” said Ildefonse. “Tell me more of this creature.”
“There is little to tell. I discovered him by chance when he opened an egg from the wrong end. If you notice, he has six toes, a crested scalp and tufts of feathers growing from his shoulders, all of which puts his origin in the 18th or even the late 17th Aeon. His name, so he avers, is Lehuster.”
“Interesting!” declared Ildefonse. “He is, in a sense, a living fossil. Lehuster, are you aware of your distinction?”
Zanzel permitted Lehuster no response. “Good day to you both! Rhialto, you appear somewhat peaked! You must dose yourself with a good posset and rest: that is my prescription.”
“Thank you,” said Rhialto. “Come past again when your leisure allows and meanwhile remember that my domain extends to yonder ridge. You must execute Lehuster well beyond this point.”
“One moment!” cried Lehuster. “Are there no reasonable minds in the 21st Aeon? Have you no interest why I have come forward to these dismal times? I hereby offer to trade my life for important information!”
“Indeed!” said Ildefonse. “What sort of information?”
