Manuel set his hand to the lever, ready to loose destruction. “To tell me what I desire you to tell me will do you no hurt—”
“No,” replied Freydis: “but I am not going to take orders from you or any man breathing.”
“—And for defying me you will suffer very terribly—”
“Yes,” replied Freydis. “And much you will care!” she said, reproachfully.
“—Therefore I think that you are acting foolishly.”
Freydis said: “You make a human woman of me, and then expect me to act upon reason. It is you who are behaving foolishly.”
Count Manuel meditated, for this beyond doubt sounded sensible. From the look of his handsome young face, his heart was now exceedingly troubled. Queen Freydis breathed more freely, and began to smile, with the wisdom of women, which is not superhuman, but is ruthless.
“The hand would be quite ruined, too,” said Manuel, looking at it more carefully. Upon the middle finger was a copper ring, in which was set a largish black stone: this was Schamir. But Manuel looked only at the hand.
He touched it. “Your hand, Queen Freydis, whatever mischief it may have executed, is soft as velvet. It is colored like rose-petals, but it smells more sweet than they. No, certainly, my images are not worth the ruining of such a hand.”
Then Manuel released her, sighing. “My geas must stay upon me, and my images must wait,” says Manuel.
“Why, do you really like my hands?” asked Freydis, regarding them critically.
Manuel said: “Ah, fair sweet enemy, do not mock at me! All is in readiness to compel you to do my will. Had you preserved some ugly shape I would have conquered you. But against the shape which you now wear I cannot contend. Dragons and warlocks and chimaeras and such nameless monsters as I perceive to be crowding about this enclosure of buttered willow wands I do not fear at all, but I cannot fight against the appearance which you now wear.”
“Why, do you really like my natural appearance?” Freydis said, incredibly surprised. “It is a comfort, of course, to slip into it occasionally, but I had never really thought much about it one way or the other—”
She went to the great mirror which had been set ready as Helmas directed, “I never liked my hair in these severe big plaits, either. As for those monsters yonder, they are my people, who are coming out of the fire to rescue me, in some of the forgotten shapes, as spoorns and trows and calcars, and other terrors of antiquity. But they cannot get into this enclosure of buttered willow wands, poor dears, on account of your magickings. How foolish they look—do they not?—leering and capering and gnashing their teeth, with no superstitious persons anywhere to pay attention to them.”
The Queen paused: she coughed delicately. “But you were talking some nonsense or other about my natural appearance not being bad looking. Now most men prefer blondes, and, besides, you are not really listening to me, and that is not polite.”
“It is so difficult to talk collectedly,” said Manuel, “with your appalling servitors leering and capering and gnashing double sets of teeth all over Upper Morven—”
She saw the justice of this. She went now to that doorway through which, unless a man lifted her over the threshold, she might not pass, on account of the tonthecs and the spaks and the horseshoes.
She cried, in a high sweet voice: “A penny, a penny, twopence, a penny and a half, and a halfpenny! Now do you go away, all of you, for the wisdom of Helmas is too strong for us. There is no way for you to get into, nor for me to get out of, this place of buttered willow wands, until I have deluded and circumvented this pestiferous, squinting young mortal. Go down into Bellegarde and spill the blood of Northmen, or raise a hailstorm, or amuse yourselves in one way or another way. Anyhow, do you take no thought for me, who am for the while a human woman: for my adversary is a mortal man, and in that duel never yet has the man conquered.”
She turned to Manuel. She said:
“The land of Audela is my kingdom. But you embraced my penalties, you have made a human woman of me. So do I tread with wraiths, for my lost realm alone is real. Here all is but a restless contention of shadows which pass presently; here all that is visible and all the colors known to men are shadows dimming the true colors; here time and death, the darkest shadows known to men, delude you with false seemings: for all such things as men hold incontestable, because they are apparent to sight and sense, are a weariful drifting of fogs that veil the world which is no longer mine. So in this twilit world of yours do we of Audela appear to be but men and women.”
“I would that such women appeared more often,” said Manuel.
“The land of Audela is my kingdom, where I am Queen of all that lies behind this veil of human sight and sense. This veil may not ever be lifted; but very often the veil is pierced, and noting the broken place, men call it fire. Through these torn places men may glimpse the world that is real: and this glimpse dazzles their dimmed eyes and weakling forces, and this glimpse mocks at their lean might Through these rent places, when the opening is made large enough, a few men here and there, not quite so witless as their fellows, know how to summon us of Audela when for an hour the moon is void and powerless: we come for an old reason: and we come as men and women.”
“Ah, but you do not speak with the voices of men and women,” Manuel replied, “for your voice is music.”
“The land of Audela is my kingdom,
