“I must see to my cairns,” said Morreion in a mild but definite manner.

For a moment there was silence. Then Ildefonse asked, “What is the purpose of these cairns?”

Morreion used the even voice of one speaking to a child. “They indicate the most expeditious route around my world. Without the cairns it is possible to go astray.”

“But remember, there is no longer need for such landmarks,” said Ao of the Opals. “You will be returning to Earth with us!”

Morreion could not restrain a small laugh at the obtuse persistence of his visitors. “Who would look after my properties? How could I fare if my cairns toppled, if my looms broke, if my kilns crumbled, if my other enterprises dissolved, and all for the lack of methodical care?”

Vermoulian said blandly, “At least come aboard the palace to share our evening banquet.”

“It will be my pleasure,” replied Morreion. He mounted the marble steps, to gaze with pleasure around the pavilion. “Charming. I must consider something of this nature as a forecourt for my new mansion.”

“There will be insufficient time,” Rhialto told him.

“‘Time’?” Morreion frowned as if the word were unfamiliar to him. Other of the lavender stones suddenly went pale. “Time indeed! But time is required to do a proper job! This gown for instance.” He indicated his gorgeously patterned caftan. “The weaving required four years. Before that I gathered beast-fur for ten years; then for another two years I bleached and dyed and spun. My cairns were built a stone at a time, each time I wandered around the world. My wanderlust has waned somewhat, but I occasionally make the journey, to rebuild where necessary, and to note the changes of the landscape.”

Rhialto pointed to the sun. “Do you recognize the nature of that object?”

Morreion frowned. “I call it ‘the sun’ — though why I have chosen this particular term escapes me.”

“There are many such suns,” said Rhialto. “Around one of them swings that ancient and remarkable world which gave you birth. Do you remember Earth?”

Morreion looked dubiously up into the sky. “I have seen none of these other suns you describe. At night my sky is quite dark; there is no other light the world over save the glow of my fires. It is a peaceful world indeed … I seem to recall more eventful times.” The last of the lavender stones and certain of the green stones lost their color. Morreion’s eyes became momentarily intent. He went to inspect the tame water-nymphs which sported in the central fountain. “And what might be these glossy little creatures? They are most appealing.”

“They are quite fragile, and useful only as show,” said Vermoulian. “Come, Morreion, my valet will help you prepare for the banquet.”

“You are most gracious,” said Morreion.

10

The magicians awaited their guest in the grand salon. Each had his own opinion of the circumstances. Rhialto said, “Best that we raise the palace now and so be off and away. Morreion may be agitated for a period, but when all the facts are laid before him he must surely see reason.”

The cautious Perdustin demurred. “There is power in the man! At one time, his magic was a source of awe and wonder; what if in a fit of pique he wreaks a harm upon all of us?”

Gilgad endorsed Perdustin’s view. “Everyone has noted Morreion’s IOUN stones. Where did he acquire them? Can this world be the source?”

“Such a possibility should not automatically be dismissed,” admitted Ildefonse. “Tomorrow, when the imminence of ‘Nothing’ is described, Morreion will surely depart without resentment.”

So the matter rested. The magicians turned their discussion to other aspects of this dismal world.

Herark the Harbinger, who had skill as a cognizancer, attempted to divine the nature of the race which had left ruins across the planet, without notable success. “They have been gone too long; their influence has waned. I seem to discern creatures with thin white legs and large green eyes … I hear a whisper of their music: a jingling, a tinkle, to a rather plaintive obbligato of pipes … I sense no magic. I doubt if they recognized the IOUN stones, if in fact such exist on this planet.”

“Where else could they originate?” demanded Gilgad.

“The ‘shining fields’ are nowhere evident,” remarked Haze of Wheary Water.

Morreion entered the hall. His appearance had undergone a dramatic change. The great white beard had been shaved away; his bush of hair had been cropped to a more modish style. In the place of his gorgeous caftan he wore a garment of ivory silk with a blue sash and a pair of scarlet slippers. Morreion now stood revealed as a tall spare man, attentive and alert. Glittering black eyes dominated his face, which was taut, harsh at chin and jaw, massive of forehead, disciplined in the even lines of the mouth. The lethargy and boredom of so many aeons were nowhere evident; he moved with easy command, and behind him, darting and circling, swarmed the IOUN stones.

Morreion greeted the assembled magicians with an inclination of the head, and gave his attention to the appointments of the salon. “Magnificent and luxurious! But I will be forced to use quartz in the place of this splendid marble, and there is little silver to be found; the Sahars plundered all the surface ores. When I need metal I must tunnel deep underground.”

“You have led a busy existence,” declared Ildefonse. “And who were the Sahars?”

“The race whose ruins mar the landscape. A frivolous and irresponsible folk, though I admit that I find their poetic conundrums amusing.”

“The Sahars still exist?”

“Indeed not! They became extinct long ages ago. But they left numerous records etched on bronze, which I have taken occasion to translate.”

“A tedious job, surely!” exclaimed Zilifant. “How did you achieve so complicated a task?”

“By the process of elimination,” Morreion explained. “I tested a succession of imaginary languages against the inscriptions, and in due course I found a correspondence. As you say, the task was time-consuming; still I have had much entertainment from the Sahar chronicles. I want to orchestrate their musical revelries; but this is a task for the future, perhaps after I complete the palace I now intend.”

Ildefonse spoke in a grave voice. “Morreion, it becomes necessary to impress certain important matters upon you. You state that you have not studied the heavens?”

“Not extensively,” admitted Morreion. “There is little to be seen save the sun, and under favorable conditions a great wall of impenetrable blackness.”

“That wall of blackness,” said Ildefonse, “is ‘Nothing’, toward which your world is inexorably drifting. Any further work here is futile.”

Morreion’s black eyes glittered with doubt and suspicion. “Can you prove this assertion?”

“Certainly. Indeed we came here from Earth to rescue you.”

Morreion frowned. Certain of the green stones abruptly lost their color. “Why did you delay so long?”

Ao of the Opals gave a bray of nervous laughter, which he quickly stifled. Ildefonse turned him a furious glare.

“Only recently were we made aware of your plight,” explained Rhialto. “Upon that instant we prevailed upon Vermoulian to bring us hither in his peregrine palace.”

Vermoulian’s bland face creased in displeasure. “‘Prevailed’ is not correct!” he stated. “I was already on my way when the others insisted on coming along. And now, if you will excuse us for a few moments, Morreion and I have certain important matters to discuss.”

“Not so fast,” Gilgad cried out. “I am equally anxious to learn the source of the stones.”

Ildefonse said, “I will put the question in the presence of us all. Morreion, where did you acquire your IOUN stones?”

Morreion looked around at the stones. “To be candid, the facts are somewhat vague. I seem to recall a vast shining surface … But why do you ask? They have no great usefulness. So many ideas throng upon me. It seems that I had enemies at one time, and false friends. I must try to remember.”

Ildefonse said, “At the moment you are among your faithful friends, the magicians of Earth. And if I am not mistaken, the noble Vermoulian is about to set before us the noblest repast in any of our memories!”

Morreion said with a sour smile, “You must think my life that of a savage. Not so! I have studied the Sahar cuisine and improved upon it! The lichen which covers the plain may be prepared in at least one hundred seventy fashions. The turf beneath is the home of succulent helminths. For all its drab monotony, this world provides a bounty. If what you say is true, I shall be sorry indeed to leave.”

“The facts cannot be ignored,” said Ildefonse. “The IOUN stones, so I suppose, derive from the northern part of this world?”

“I believe not.”

“The southern area, then?”

“I rarely visit this section; the lichen is thin; the helminths are all gristle.”