«Especially if in good sooth Busyrane has sent for her. Nothing would gall those high knights and ladies of the court half so much as having one of their queens of beauty, approved chaste by the test of the girdle, to live with an enchanter. But now, alack, there’s a doubt.»
Shea saw Chalmers start and run his tongue around his lips at the mention of the connection between Busyrane and Florimel. He pressed questions about the Chapter to give Chalmers a chance to recover. But now Dolon shut up like a clam, with suspicious glances. Shea had uneasy memories of the cockatrice and the spy in the outer room.
The magician finally rose. «’Tis time we retired, eh, magical sirs? ’Twere wise to set out for Busyrane’s tomorrow. If we arrive ere the meeting be called, I’m sure that my connections and the skill in intrigue for which I’m known will enable me to secure your election.»
* * *
A whisper: «Hey, Doc, you asleep?»
Another: «Merciful Heavens, no. Not in this place. Is he?»
«If he isn’t, that’s a damned good magical snore. Say, can’t we do something about that poor guy he made into a statue?»
«It would be injudicious to attempt it, Harold. Moreover, I’m not certain I know how. It would jeopardize our whole plan of campaign.»
«Didn’t know we had one. Are we stringing along with him?»
«I suppose we must if we really intend to help Queen Gloriana and the Companions. I may also mention Florimel. Dolon remarked that she was made of snow — created. I find it difficult to credit and rather awful. I fear we must join this Chapter and. uh. bore from within, as if it were.»
«I suppose,» said Shea thoughtfully, «that the Chapter explains why the Land of Faerie is sort of running down.»
«Yes. The enchanters had just discovered the —»
«Say, Doc,» Shea’s whisper was almost loud. «If the Chapter was formed a year ago,
«
«Never thought of it. Say, how come your dragon spell was so extremely successful?»
Chalmers permitted himself an under-the-breath chuckle. «A property of the mathematics of magic. Since it’s based on the calculus of classes, it is primarily qualitative, not quantitative. Hence the quantitative effects are indeterminate. You can’t — at least, with my present skill I can’t — locate the decimal point. Here the decimal point was too far rightward, and I got a hundred dragons instead of one. It might have been a thousand.»
Shea lay still a moment digesting that thought. Then: «Can’t you do something about that?»
«I don’t know. Apparently the professionals learn by experience just how much force to put into their incantations. It’s an art rather than a science. If I could solve the quantitative problem I could put magic on a scientific basis. I wish, Harold, that tomorrow you could. uh. manage to distract Dolon for long enough to allow me to possess myself of one of his testbooks. His place is such a hurrah’s nest that he’s certain not to miss it.»
* * *
The three riders — Dolon had conjured up a horse because, he said, taking the form of one for a long journey would be fatiguing — had been going for miles through Loselwood. They saw deer, but no other living creatures. Conversation was scarce till they came out on a road, once wide and well graded, now much overgrown. Shea reasoned that this was one more sign of how the enchanters were getting the best of the Faerie knights.
He pushed his mount alongside the magician. «With your superlative powers, Dolon, I wonder they didn’t elect you head of the Chapter instead of Busyrane.»
Dolon shrugged. «I could have had the post at good cheap, ho-ho! But I would not strive and moil for it. I’m really a very good judge of human nature, so I arranged Busyrane’s election, knowing he would do it well.»
«You must be just about perfect,» said Shea.
«‘Just about’, my ’prentice friend, is a weak phrase. I
«Modest, too,» remarked Shea, drawing a quick glare from Chalmers.
Dolon dropped his eyes. «Too modest, I sometimes think. Yet do I guard against such affectation — hola! Here’s an encounter!» An armoured horseman had appeared at the far end of the defile through which they were riding. His lance came down and he trotted towards them.
Dolon cried: «Ten thousand devils, ’tis Artegall himself! Flee, or we are undone!» Looking a bit undone himself, the magician whirled his horse sharp round on its hind legs.
A woman’s voice behind them called, «Stand, all of you!» Belphebe was perched on a rock at the side of the defile, covering them with bow bent full.
«To the air!» screeched Dolon, the last word going beyond human pitch as he changed to hawk and flapped slanting upward. There was the flat snap of the bow, the whistle of the arrow and there was a puff of feathers. Down hurtled the hawk, changing to Dolon with an arrow through his arm as he fell. He landed,
«Dismount, runagates!» roared the knight. It seemed the best thing to do. The man was as big as Cambell, cased in steel, yet moved quickly. Besides, Belphebe had another arrow already nocked.
Artegall pushed up his visor to show a stem, swarthy face with a broken nose. He produced a couple of looped chains, which he slipped over the victims’ heads, tightened, and locked. «You’re in arrest,» quoth he.
«What for?» asked Shea.
«For judgment by the high justice of the court of her majesty, Queen Gloriana.»
Chalmers groaned. «The high justice,» he explained in a low voice, «means the death penalty if we’re found guilty.»
«Then I’ll take low,» said Shea.
«You had better not ask it. He probably has the privilege of low justice himself, which means he can sentence you to about five years in prison right here. He probably would.»
Belphebe had come down from her rock. «Dolon, by the splendour of Heaven!» she cried. «I bear witness, Sir Artegall, that when I met this pair in Loselwood but yesterday, they were asking after magicians. Guard the young one well; he bears a blade of much power, which I doubt not has some enchantment on it.»
«Say you so!» observed Artegall, with an unpleasant expression. «By my halidome, we are well met, then. A pretty gift for the queen’s justice! Let’s see that little sword.» He yanked Shea’s baldric up over his head, nearly taking off an ear.
He climbed back on his horse, holding the end of the chains. The prisoners had no choice but to trot along behind him.
Chalmers managed to whisper: «Don’t try to tell them we’re on the right side. Britomart will clear us if necessary. We must. uh. retain Dolon’s confidence.»
They plodded on. The more Chalmers thought about it the less he liked the idea of being dragged off to the Faerie court for judgment. If they were released with Britomart’s help, any enchanters they met afterward might reasonably ask them how they came to escape when Dolon was condemned. Of the master magician’s condemnation there could be little doubt. Artegall looked at him with pure detestation. Belphebe, trotting along beside them, was amusing herself by catching the enchanter’s eye, putting one hand around her neck, and making strangling sounds. The great Dolon did not seem to be enjoying it.
Shea? Shea was admiring Belphebe’s springy stride. Anything Chalmers did would have to be on his own. Fortunately, Chalmers had succeeded in purloining and sneaking a look into one of Dolon’s textbooks that morning. There was a simple weakness spell in it; not much of a spell, lasting only a few hours and easily guarded against if one knew it were coming. But it required no apparatus beyond twelve blades of grass, a small piece of paper, and some water.
Chalmers stooped and pulled up the grass blades as he stumbled along, holding them in his mouth as
