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?”
Puiras, a man spare and loose-jointed, with a bony face and lank black hair, gave a dour nod. “Except for a single matter. When I have accomplished all this, what else?”
Rhialto, drawing on his cloth-of-gold gauntlets, glanced sidewise at his servant. Stupidity? Zeal? Churlish sarcasm? Puiras’ visage offered no clue. Rhialto spoke in an even voice. “Upon completion of these tasks, your time is your own. Do not tamper with the magical engines; do not, for your life, consult the portfolios, the librams or the compendiary. In due course, I may instruct you in a few minor dints; until then, be cautious!”
“I will indeed.”
Rhialto adjusted his six-tiered black satin hat, donned his cloak with that flourish which had earned him his soubriquet ‘the Marvellous’. “I go to visit Ildefonse. When I pass the outer gate impose the boundary curse; under no circumstances lift it until I signal. Expect me at sunset: sooner, if all goes well.”
Making no effort to interpret Puiras’ grunt, Rhialto sauntered to the north portal, averting his eyes from the wreckage of his wonderful aviary. Barely had he passed the portal by, when Puiras activated the curse, prompting Rhialto to jump hastily forward. Rhialto adjusted the set of his hat. The ineptitude of Puiras was but one in a series of misfortunes, all attributable to the archveult Xexamedes. His aviary destroyed, the way-post shattered, old Funk dead! From some source compensation must be derived!
4
Ildefonse lived in a castle above the River Scaum: a vast and complex structure of a hundred turrets, balconies, elevated pavilions and pleasaunces. During the final ages of the 21st Aeon, when Ildefonse had served as preceptor, the castle had seethed with activity. Now only a single wing of this monstrous edifice was in use, with the rest abandoned to dust, owls and archaic ghosts.
Ildefonse met Rhialto at the bronze portal. “My dear colleague, splendid as usual! Even on an occasion like that of today! You put me to shame!” Ildefonse stood back the better to admire Rhialto’s austerely handsome visage, his fine blue cloak and trousers of rose velvet, his glossy boots. Ildefonse himself, for reasons obscure, presented himself in the guise of a jovial sage, with bald pate, a lined countenance, pale blue eyes, an irregular white beard — conceivably a natural condition which vanity would not let him discard.
“Come in, then,” cried Ildefonse. “As always, with your sense of drama, you are last to arrive!”
They proceeded to the great hall. On hand were fourteen sorcerers: Zilifant, Perdustin, Herark the Harbinger, Haze of Wheary Water, Ao of the Opals, Eshmiel, Kilgas, Byzant the Necrope, Gilgad, Vermoulian the Dream-walker, Barbanikos, the diabolist Shrue, Mune the Mage, Hurtiancz. Ildefonse called out, “The last of our cabal has arrived: Rhialto the Marvellous, at whose manse the culminating stroke occurred!”
Rhialto doffed his hat to the group. Some returned the salute; others, Gilgad, Byzant the Necrope, Mune the Mage, Kilgas, merely cast cool glances over their shoulders.
Ildefonse took Rhialto by the arm and led him to the buffet. Rhialto accepted a goblet of wine, which he tested with his amulet.
In mock chagrin Ildefonse protested: “The wine is sound; have you yet been poisoned at my board?”
“No. But never have circumstances been as they are today.”
Ildefonse made a sign of wonder. “The circumstances are favorable! We have vanquished our enemy; his IOUN stones are under our control!”
“True,” said Rhialto. “But remember the damages I have suffered! I claim corresponding benefits, of which my enemies would be pleased to deprive me.”
“Tush,” scolded Ildefonse. “Let us talk on a more cheerful note. How goes the renewal of your way-post? The Minuscules carve with zest?”
“The work proceeds,” Rhialto replied. “Their tastes are by no means coarse. For this single week their steward has required two ounces of honey, a gill of Misericord, a dram and a half of malt spirits, all in addition to biscuit, oil and a daily ration of my best thrush pâté.”
Ildefonse shook his head in disapproval. “They become ever more splendid, and who must pay the score? You and I. So the world goes.” He turned away to refill the goblet of the burly Hurtiancz.
“I have made investigation,” said Hurtiancz ponderously, “and I find that Xexamedes had gone among us for years. He seems to have been a renegade, as unwelcome on Jangk as on Earth.”
