make use of the law of similarity, it might become a flaming sword. On that narrow, stone-walled spiral staircase it was altogether unlikely that anyone would be able to see the light.
With the ghostly fingers of the cobwebs clutching at his legs, Shea stood on the stair and thought as he never had before of a spell:
Sword, sword, sword that is now my salvation,
Make me a light to cut through these cobwebs;
Be like Surt’s sword to cut through this maze.
He could feel the hilt growing warm.
Help my escape to reach consummation;
In the name of Durandal, help me to be free.
It was not outrageously good poetry, but the hilt was so hot that he snatched it out. A smoky red flame ran down the blade and dropped from the point, revealing the whole stairwell from wall to wall and as high as Shea stood, filled with a solid mass of the hideous grey material. A man could smother in it easier than not. Busyrane left nothing to chance.
Shea slashed at the stuff with the flaming epee. It shrivelled left and right before him, back against the wall with hissing, foul-smelling flames running along the strands. He advanced slowly, cutting one step at a time. As he reached the bottom and the last cobwebs, the fire in the blade went out. He was in the great hall; but a few steps carried him through it, across the forecourt and to the gate.
A moon looked down out of a cloudless sky. Shea cursed it softly to himself, wondering whether he ought to take a chance on crossing the open stretch between gate and the shelter of the trees before it set. He decided to try it.
Bending low, he scuttled rapidly across the space, his cloak flapping like a vampire’s wings. He made it without stumbling and looked back. The castle had disappeared. There was nothing visible but stony ground with the hut in the middle.
Once among the trees, he began pacing the circuit of the clearing, whistling very softly to himself the unicorn tune and pausing to listen. A quarter of the way round he was halted by a tense whisper, «Stand, sir!»
«Belphebe!»
«Aye.» She stepped from her place of concealment, arrow drawn to the head. «In good sooth you look like Harold de Shea. But show me how you hold that narrow sword.»
Shea drew the still-warm epee and demonstrated.
«Certes, then you are indeed he. I feared lest the enchanters had sent a phantom forth to beguile me. Right glad I am to see you, Square Harold.»
Shea said: «Say, I’m glad to see you, too. I knew I could depend —»
«Save your fair speeches for another hour. Here is danger. What is toward?»
Shea explained. Belphebe said: «For myself I fear not, though I thank you for the warning. Yet it’s somewhat otherwise with Britomart, who has not the protection of the woods so close as I. And sure it were shame to miss the chance of catching the entire Chapter at once. Let me think. I left Artegall at a woodcutter’s cot on the far flank of Loselwood. His man Talus had gone to fetch Cambina, that she might heal his bruises and calm his mind.»
«So Cambina’s a psychologist too! Why does he need his mind calmed?»
«Why, sir, he’s the chief justiciar of all Faerie. Without a calm mind, how shall he hold the balance even? Let us go thither and lay this matter before him. Certes, we two cannot lay so many rogues by the heels alone.»
Two hours of walking brought Shea to the yawning stage. The moon had set. Under the black trees, even the surefooted Belphebe found the going hard. She was ready to listen to suggestions for a nap.
«Sleep is still far from me now,» she said. «If you wish, I will keep watch for the first hour — which should be till the stars of the Bear sink to the top of that tree.» She pointed. Shea, too drowsy to notice, composed himself to rest.
The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake in a brightening world.
«Hey, young lady,» he said through his first yawn, «I thought you were going to wake me up after the first hour?»
«And so thought I. But you were so in comfort that I wanted the heart to rouse you. I need but little sleep.»
«Naughty. What about my masculine pride?»
She made a face at him. «I forgot that. Men are such foolish carls about it. But come.» She danced a step or two. «Tirra-lirra, a brave day! Let’s forth and seek our breakfast.»
As they walked along, Belphebe peering towards thickets for an edible target, and Shea a bit woozy from lack of sleep, he asked: «D’you suppose Cambina will have calmed Artegall down so he’ll listen to my explanations before he starts carving?»
«A thing to think on! Will you hide whilst I speak him fair?»
«Guess I’ll take a chance on his temper.» Shea wasn’t going to have his dream-girl suspect him of timidity at this stage. He was sure he could outrun the bulky justiciar if necessary.
«Marry, I would not have you answer otherwise!» She smiled at him, and he felt rewarded. She went on, scrutinizing him: «Many knights, squires, and yeomen have I kenned, Master Harold, but never a wight like you. You speak fair, yet half the time with words I wot not of. You promised to explain the meanings of those wherewith you put the Blatant Beast to rout.»
Shea replied: «Curiosity killed a cat.»
«
«I really can’t, Belphebe. Magical reasons.»
«Oh. Well then, tell me the meaning of the strange thing you called the Lady Cambina even now.»
«Psychologist?»
«Aye.»
Shea gave an account in words of one syllable of the science of psychology, and of his own experiences in its practice. Under the girl’s admiring curiosity he expanded. Before he knew it he was practically telling her the story of his life. As soon as he realized this, he cut his autobiography off short, not wanting to leave her with nothing to be curious about.
Belphebe said: «A strange tale, Squire. Gin you speak truth, this homeland of yours were worth the seeing.» She sighed a little. «The wilds of Faerie I know like my own palm. And since I will not tarry at Gloriana’s tedious court, there’s nothing left for me but to hunt the Losels and such vile —
While they dressed and cooked their breakfast, Shea thought. He finally ventured: «Look here, kid, someday Doc and I will be going back, I suppose. Why don’t you plan to come with us?»
Belphebe raised her eyebrows. «’Tis a thought audacious. But stay — could I live among the woods-paths as I do here?»
«Unh.» Shea imagined the horrible complications that would ensue if Belphebe tried to lead her present life in Ohio’s close-fenced farmland. «I’m afraid that wouldn’t be practical. But there’s plenty else to do.»
«What then? How should I live in one of your great towns?»
That problem had not occurred to Shea. He revised his estimate of Belphebe. The girl might look like something out of a medieval romance, but she had a core of hard common sense. The only job he could think of for her was giving bow-and-arrow lessons, and he hardly supposed the demand for professional archers to be large.
He said vaguely: «Oh, we’ll figure something out. Doc and I would see to it that you were — uh — uh.»
«Harold!» she said sharply, «What are you proposing? Think not that because I lead a free roving life, I —»
«No, no, I didn’t mean — uh.»
«What then?»
He thought again. One obvious solution was staring him in the face; yet to bring it up so early might spoil
