Lyonesse

So Carfilhiot reassured himself. Further, and superseding all else, Tamurello had avowed support. Should supplies run short, Tamurello could replenish them by magic. In effect, Tintzin Fyral might stand secure forever!

Carfilhiot looked once more around the circle of night, then descended to his workroom, but Tamurello, through absence, neglect, or design, would not talk with him.

In the morning Carfilhiot watched as the Troice army advanced almost to the base of Tintzin Fyral, evading his ambush by marching single-file behind a screen of shields. They cut down his impaling poles, released the stretched men of Femus Castle from their weights, and set up camp on the meadow. Trains of supplies moved up the valley and along the ridge, preparations of an unhurried and methodical sort, which caused Carfilhiot new apprehension despite all logic to the contrary. There was peculiar activity on top of Tac Tor and Carfilhiot watched the skeletons of three enormous catapults take shape. He had thought Tac Tor a place of no danger, by reason of its steep slopes, but the cursed Troice had found the trail and with ant-like industry, piece by piece, had carried to the summit the three great catapults now rearing against the sky. Surely the range was too far! Thrown boulders would simply bounce away from the castle walls and menace the Troice encampment below. So Carfilhiot assured himself. On the north ridge six other siege-engines were under construction, and again Carfilhiot felt queasiness to see the efficiency of the Troice engineers. The engines were massive, designed with great precision. They would in due course be brought close to the edge of the cliff; in just such a fashion the Ska had ranged their engines... As the day wore on Carfilhiot began to doubt, and the doubts deepened to rage: the engines were set up well to the safe side of his collapsible platform. How had they learned of this danger? From the Ska? Reverses from all directions! A thud and a shock as something struck the side of the tower.

Carfilhiot swung around aghast. On Tac Tor he saw the arm of one of the great catapults swing up and snap to halt. A boulder climbed high into the air, made a slow arc and slanted down toward the castle. Carfilhiot threw his hands over his head and crouched. The stone missed the tower by five feet and hissed past to land near the drawbridge. Carfilhiot took no pleasure in the miss; these were ranging shots.

He ran down the stairs and ordered a squad of archers to the roof. They went to the battlements; they placed their bows to the merlons, lay back and held the bows with a foot. They drew to the fullest draught and loosened. The arrows arched high across the gulf, then slanted down to strike the slopes of Tac Tor. A futile exercise.

Carfilhiot cried out a curse and waved his arms in defiance. Two of the catapults launched together; two boulders hurtled high, completed their arcs, slanted down their final courses and plunged into the roof. The first killed two archers and broke the roof; the second missed Carfilhiot by ten feet, to plunge through the roof and into his high parlor. The surviving archers scrambled down the stairs followed by Carfilhiot.

For an hour boulders struck down upon the roof of the tower, destroying the battlements, bursting in the roof and breaking the roof-beams, so that they protruded half in the air, half-down to the floor below.

The engineers altered the aim of their machines and began to break in the walls of the tower. It became clear, that in a period of time to be measured in days, the engines on Tac Tor alone could batter the tower of Tinfzin Fyral to its foundation.

Carfilhiot ran to the frame in his workroom and now succeeded in making contact with Tamurello. "The army is attacking from the heights with enormous weapons; help me or I am doomed!"

"Very well," said Tamurello in a heavy voice. "I will do what must be done."

On Tac Tor Aillas stood where he had stood before, during a different era of his life. He watched as the flung stones crossed the gulf to batter Tintzin Fyral, then spoke to Shimrod: "The war is over. He has nowhere to go. Stone by stone we dismantle his castle. It is time for another parley."

"Let's give him another hour of it. I feel his mood. It is fury but not yet despair."

Across the sky moved a crepuscule. It settled to the top of Tac Tor and exploded with a small sound. Tamurello, taller by a head than ordinary men, stood facing them. He wore a suit of gleaming black scales and a silver fish-head helmet. Under black brows his eyes glared round with rings of white surrounding the black iris. He stood on a ball of flickering force which subsided, lowering him to the ground. He looked from Aillas to Shimrod and back to Aillas. "When we met at Faroli I failed to recognize your high estate."

"At that time I lacked such estate."

"Now you expand your grasp across South Ulfland!"

"The land is mine by right of lineage and now by force of conquest. Both are valid entitlements."

Tamurello made a sign. "In peaceful Vale Evander, Sir Faude Carfilhiot maintains a popular rule. Conquer elsewhere, but stay your hand here. Carfilhiot is my friend and ally. Call away your armies, or I must exert my magic against you."

Shimrod spoke. "Desist, before you cause yourself embarrassment. I am Shimrod. I need speak a single word to summon Murgen. I was forbidden to do so unless you made prior interference. Since you have done so I now call on Murgen to intercede. "

A flash of blue flame illuminated the mountain-top; Murgen stepped forward. "Tamurello, you violate my edict."

"I protect one dear to me."

"You may not do so in this case; you have played a wicked game, and I tremble with the urge to destroy you at this moment."

Tamurello's eyes seemed to glare with black radiance - He took a step forward. "Do you dare such threats to me, Murgen? You are senile and flaccid; you cringe at imaginary fears. Meanwhile I wax in strength!"

Murgen seemed to smile. "I will cite first, the Wastes of Falax; second, the Flesh Cape of Miscus; third, the Totness Squalings. Reflect; then go your way, and be grateful for my restraint."

"What of Shimrod? He is your creature!"

"No longer. In any event, the offense was engendered by you. It is his right to restore the equipoise. Your deeds were not overt, and I punish you thus: return to Faroli; do not in any guise venture from its precincts for five years, on pain of expunction."

Tamurello made a wild gesture, and disappeared in a whirl of smoke, which became a crepuscule drifting eastward with speed.

Aillas turned to Murgen. "Can you help us further? I would hope not to risk the lives of honest men, nor yet my son."

"Your wishes do you credit. But I am bound by my own edict. No more than Tamurello may I interfere for those whom I love. I walk a narrow way, with a dozen eyes judging my conduct." He laid his hand on Shimrod's head. "Already you have altered from my concepts."

"I am as much Dr. Fidelius the mountebank as I am Shimrod the magician."

Murgen, smiling, drew back. The blue flame in which he had arrived came into being and enveloped him; he was gone. On the ground where he had stood remained a small object. Shimrod picked it up.

Aillas asked: "What is it?"

"A spool. It is wound with a fine thread."

"To what purpose?"

Shimrod tested the cord. "It is very strong."

Carfilhiot stood in his workroom, shuddering to the shock and thud of boulders striking down from the sky. The circular frame altered to become the face of Tamurello, mottled and distorted with emotion. "Faude, I have been thwarted; I may not intercede for you."

"But they destroy the fabric of my castle! And next they will tear me to pieces!"

Tamurello's silence hung more heavy in the air than words.

After a moment Carfilhiot spoke on in a voice breathless, soft and exalted with emotion: "So great a loss and then my death—is it tolerable to you, who so often have declared your love? I ca