Chapter One:

Lady Aelia

THE ANCIENT CITY of Buerdaunt slept restlessly; stone
towers loomed against the moonlit sky above an eastern
bay of the inland sea called the Thiassa Mey. She was the
capital of a great feudal land, this Buerdaunt, and home
to many a mysterious sight.

All manner of folk filled her streets and buildings, liv-
ing, breeding, and dying like maggots on a piece of meat.
Near the docks, in the oldest section of the city, the streets
were narrow and unlit. It was night; the sun would not
rise for awhile and, even when it did, its light would barely
penetrate these tangled alleys with their overhanging
buildings. Here, a catcall uphill from the wharves, dwelt
denizens from every comer of creation. The streets were
infested with beggars, cutthroats, pickpockets, usurers;

every form of human scum was known to lurk here.

To this place came outcasts from every shore of the
Thiassa Mey. If a man's debts were relieved by the sudden
death of one of his creditors, that man might be found
here. If a village maid produced a fatherless child, the

2        FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

scoundrel responsible was likely to find his way to these
streets.

In the center of this pustule of humanity stood a tavern.
There were no tetters upon the signboard before the place,
only a faded painting of a knight sitting astride his horse.
So faded were the figures that there was hardly any color
left to them; they were ghosts against the exposed wood
of their background.

In a garret chamber above the tavern itself, in a rough
cot hardly long enough to bear him, lay a man. He was
only one of many brought to Buerdaunt by the endless
tossing and whirling of the fates that propel all mortals.
On this night, his sleep was fitful.

It was dark. But had there been enough light in this
chamber, an observer would have noted that the sleeper's
face was handsome enough, although it was creased by
the turmoils of his life. He was about forty years old. His
dark brown hair had faded to gray at the temples and
there was a broad moustache which also contained much
of that neutral color. The nose was long and straight, the
mouth well formed below its boundary of mustache,
the jaw angular.

The man slept without resting. He writhed upon the
cot, throwing back the blanket, kicking it away with long
legs. He groaned- Broad arms shielded the face, as if from
blows or some other form of abuse. Sweat crawled across
his features. He was having a nightmare.

With a cry, he bolted upright, blue eyes staring into
the darkness. His breath came in gasps. He sat for a
moment with his hands clutching his face, breathed deeply,
then swung his legs over the edge of the cot. Rising
unsteadily, he staggered to the room's single window and
leaned against the casing, gazing out at the predawn lights
of Buerdaunt.

He smiled. It was a bitter smile, this smile of his, full
of anguish and woe. As he peered out through the narrow
opening, he spoke a weary speech to no one but himself:

"The dead humiliation of my past still pierces me with
memory's sharp lance. A wicked jest it is: relentless Time
rolls on. He cycles forward, searing me with flames and

DENNIS MCCARTY            3

stale regrets at every turn." He paused to heave a great
sigh. "0 Pallas' 0 thou Maiden whom I wronged. Oh,
would that I could once reverse the wheel, undo the deed
that makes such racking nights as these."

He turned from the window and began to dress for the
day, still speaking to himself. "Ah, well, the past won't
be erased by longing. Were that so, I'd laugh all day.
There'll be no sleep till eventide comes 'ro"nd so best
that I bestir myself. The past that ne'er may be forgot
might still be worked to death. Stout labor is my faithful
friend."

It was a puzzling scene. But while this eariy riser
dressed, the rest of the city of Buerdaunt also awakened.
In the gaining light of the new day, the streets filled and
came to life. Great towers gleamed in the rising sun and
pennants above the high walls crackled and snapped in
the morning breeze.

The great marketplace was one of the first districts to
come to life. It was a busy place on this day, as it was on
all days. Fat merchant ships from all the lands washed
by the Thiassa Mey lay in the harbor, as well as craft
from beyond the Narrow Strait, far to the northwest. Only
in the last two years had the Strait been opened by the
diplomacy of Buerdaunt's ruler. King Lothar. Now ships
of every flag passed there, all bearing wealth for this city.
For this, Lothar was honored as well as feared by his
subjects; they knew him to be a great man, although it
was for his manner as well as his appearance that he was
called Lothar the Pale.

The marketplace was colored by a blinding variety of
trade goods. So jammed was it with blankets, booths,
tables, stalls, and flimsy portable shops that a person
could not pass from one end of it to the other without
bumping into milling folk and being often jostled in return.
This made it a rich hunting ground for pickpockets. Those
who wished to keep their finances from being surrepti-
tiously altered kept their purses covered and tightly tied.

And there were many reasons to open those purses.
Merchants in dyed linen robes bartered the gold, copper,
and timber from the hills above Buerdaunt for the silks,

4        FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

jewels, spices, and slaves from far lands. Musical instru-
ments filled the air with their pipings and strummings,
dancers whirled, and gamblers and gamesters plied their
noisy trades.

From one of the streets that emptied into this great
square appeared an attractive, middle-aged woman. She
was richly dressed. Her bearing was regal and she was
followed by two attendants, although her robes were actu-
ally not those of a noble. She wore on a chain about her
neck a silver replica of the heavy iron collar of a slave.
She was Lady Aelia- She had been sent there to do the
weekly trading and other business of her mistress, Prin-
cess Berengeria of far Carea.

Aelia was tall, as tall as her male attendants, and her
eyes surveyed the turmoil of trade within the square with
an air of detached mastery; she was like a general watch-
ing a battle from a hilltop. She measured die activity before
her, but she was not moved by it; it was something she
would deal with as she wished, but only if she so wished.
She was that general saying, "Yes, it happens the way I
knew it would. I can strike here toward this goal or I can
strike there toward that goal, but I choose to do neither
of those things at this moment."

She stood for some time. But, though her eyes flashed
across the marketplace, she was not trading on this day.
She was waiting. The comers other mouth curled, making
the fine lines in her face jump and dance. Her foot, its
five athletic toes encased in a light sandal, began to tap
in the dust. She was becoming impatient.

After a bit, her face brightened as she saw a man cross-
ing the square. As he hurried up to her, she grasped him
by his chiton—his knee length tunic. Her voice was urgent.
"Well? Have you found the place? And is he there?"

The man was a slave and he wore an iron collar—a
real collar rather than the replica she wore. He nodded,
still out of breath- "It was a hard search. Lady, but I was
able to find an inn where a man works who fits your
description. He dresses as a commoner, although he keeps
himself trim and well groomed. He's tall and of middling

DENNIS MCCARTY            5

age. And though he's only a workman, he speaks with
noble patterns."

She studied the slave, trying to find in his face some-
thing to fill out his brief description of her quarry. Then
die turned to the other attendants. "Then we must go and
see. We hurry now, we have but little time."

But something caught her eye and she hesitated. There
was a familiar face among the ocean of faces jamming the
square; it was the face ofGymon, the King's palace stew-
ard. "But wait." She rested her fingers lightly on the
shoulder of one of her attendants, then turned and pre-
tended to examine the goods at the nearest stall.

AJthough she appeared engrossed by the items before
her, she observed everything that happened in the square.
She watched the face of the stallkeeper. She watched
several soldiers who stood about the square, all wearing
the purple-and-gold tunics which marked them as warriors
of King Lothar. The tunics fit badly; she knew that was
because they concealed shirts of heavy chain mail. And
she knew the soldiers patrolled this square regularly,
keeping order by their presence. They did not interest
her.

But the presence of the palace steward did interest her;

she watched him most of all. Out of the comer of one
eye, she saw him glance at her, then turn away. He stopped
at a gaming table and pretended to watch what happened
there but his eyes returned to her more than once.

Was the King having her followed? That would have
been no surprise. Lothar the Pale trusted no one, least of
all a person as important to his plans as Aelia, Princess
Berengeria's guardian. Still, he could employ more cun-
ning agents than this clumsy stalker. Most likely, the stew-
ard followed her for his own reasons—curiosity, hope of
blackmail, hope of advancement.

None of those reasons mattered- What mattered was
that he was in the marketplace; she could not do her
business beneath his eyes. She knew her attendants could
be trusted, as could the slave, who owed no loyalty to
Buerdaunt's rulers. But this interloper had to be dealt
with.

6        FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Her eyes moved without pausing, absorbing all that
happened about her, missing nothing. The game the stew-
ard was watching was rigged; she could tell that by the
motions of the operator as he cast the spinning ball. A
pair of the soldiers in the square were drunk. And a few
paces away, a pickpocket was liberating the purse of a
merchant. The thief's movements were lithe and fluid as
he slid the money pouch from its belt and hurried away
from his victim, moving quickly without running or
attracting attention. He would pass near the place where
she was standing.

But the merchant discovered his loss. His voice filled
the air. "Robbery, robbery! Harrow and alas."

The pickpocket paid no attention to the shouting; he
walked at a steady pace. Then Aelia flicked her foot for-
ward as he brushed by. He pitched onto the cobblestones
as their shins met, the purse flew from his fist, and coins
scattered across the paving.

The square erupted into chaos. Children scrambled for
the money; soldiers drew swords and shoved themselves
into the crowd. The thief leaped to his feet, but a pair of
citizens caught at him, turning him about. His fist crashed
into the mouth of one and he wriggled free. Again he
bolted away but several men leaped after him; there were
shouts and screams, a stand collapsed, and a dog ran
yelping through the mob.

More soldiers shouldered their way through the packed
bodies, rushing toward die melee. The square filled with
surging humanity. The commotion was enough to conceal
Aelia as she departed. She started out of the square, mov-
ing at a hurried pace that made it hard for her attendants
to keep up with her and to form a protective wedge about
her which shoved aside onlookers who failed to step out
of the way quickly enough. She placed her hand upon the
slave's shoulder. "Now show the way. We must begone
from here."

They escaped the tumult of the marketplace and hur-
ried along an ancient street, to turn into another street,
narrow, cobbiestoned way which was little more than

DENNIS McCARTY            7

an alley leading toward the docks. She looked back. The
steward was not behind them. Had they eluded him?

Their footfalls echoed off the smoke-and-oil-stained
buildings that loomed two and three storeys above them.
Many of these buildings showed broken shutters and there
was refuse everywhere. The oppressive air of the district
affected the attendants; they glanced about and lingered
the hilts of the long daggers they wore at their sides.

They met few people. Those they did encounter eyed
(he weapons of the two escorts and slunk away or stood
silently, watching them with listless eyes as they passed.
Finally their guide stopped. He pointed to the place they
had reached, an inn where ale and wine were sold. If
nothing else, it was a bit cleaner than the surrounding
buildings and the signboard that hung out over the street
bore the likeness of an armored warrior sitting astride a
horse, the color of which might once have been white.
There were no letters on the signboard. None were needed;

few of the denizens of these streets could read.

The slave gestured up at the weathered piece of art-
work. "Lady, you told me to find an inn called the 'Silver
Knight' or the 'White Knight.' You said you had heard
both names. This is the place I found. It hasn't got a real
name; there's only that likeness there, but a man works
here and he is much like the one you seek."

She glanced up at the signboard. Her agitation showed
in the way she played with the end of the colored sash
about her waist. *Then I will speak with him." She turned
to her attendants. "Mease wait for me. This must not take
me long."

One of the attendants caught at her wrist. "Lady, it's
a bad section of the city, and we might be followed. Per-
haps one of us should go with you."

"This man will be with me." She gestured back toward
the slave. "And if the man I seek be found within, I doubt
there's any danger to be feared."

Quickly, she stepped through the tavern door and found
herself inside a large, low chamber. The place was full of
the sour smell of ale. That pungent odor was an improve-

8        FLIGHT TO THLASSA MET

ment, however, over the smell of sea water, rotting fish,
and garbage which filled the street outside.

There was an innkeeper, or at least a man who looked
like one, wiping the top of the long counter that lined the
far side of the room. This host looked up as they entered.
He was impressed by the wealthy fashion of her robes;

Aelia could tell that. She looked at the slave. "Is this the
man? He doesn't look the part."

The slave shook his head. "The one you seek is only
a worker here, a chucker-out. He keeps the peace on busy
nights, repairs the furniture, and helps keep the place in
order."

She nodded and stepped forward. "Good innkeeper, I
seek the one who labors here. Four decades old, or near,
should be his age; he should be tall, broad shouldered,
wearing several scars along his arms."

The host looked at her warily. "You're the second one
to come here and ask that question." He nodded at the
slave. "There's the other. Why should my hired help inter-
est you?"

"Because he does." Her voice had become soft and
persuasive but there was no softness in her eyes. "Now
do you know this seal?" She extended her right hand,
where she wore the ring marking her as Princess Beren-
geria's personal attendant.

The host was a poor man of humble birth. He did not
recognize the ring, nor did he have any concept of the
office it represented. But he noted the rich garb of the
woman he faced and he could see her attendants watching
through the outer doorway; he saw the ring, which was
large and of great value. So he realized the ring must have
meant something. "Yes, of course, my Lady."

"Then answer me at once." Her voice was still gentle.
It cushioned the harshness of her words.

"That description fits the man who works for me, yes."
There was an interruption just then; a noise from a shad-
owy comer of the chamber turned the host's head and a
gravelly voice called for wine. "One moment. Lady." The
host grasped a worn pitcher and dipped into the open
amphora below the counter. He hurried to the table where

DENNIS MCCARTY            9

the men were calling; they were a scnrify pair of vaga-
bonds if ever Aelia had seen such. He poured the wine
into their clay bowls and accepted a coin from each man,
all the while watching his stately visitor over one shoulder.
But instead of returning to the counter, he vanished through
a doorway on the far side of the room-
Nothing happened for a moment- Aelia waited with the
slave, the two men at the table conversed in low voices,
and the attendants peered in through the street door. Then
die host came back into the chamber, this time with another
man.

Aelia looked at the newcomer. His appearance did fit
the stories she had heard about an imposing figure work-
ing in one ofBuerdaunt's waterfront taverns, a man whose
bearing, speech, and prowess revealed some greater past
than the life of a handyman. He was feared and respected
by the denizens of these dingy streets. His hair was laced
with the first tracings of gray, as was his mustache. His
eyes were blue, his nose long and straight, his jaw angular.
He showed no sign of the restless night he had spent.

There were questions in those blue eyes- She noted
that. But she could see more than simple curiosity in his
expression; she also sensed a certain ill-concealed knowl-
edge of the reason for her interest in him. She displayed
the ring that had so impressed the host. "I show you this,
my ring, sir. Know you what it means, or do you not?"

His eyes flickered toward the ring, then back to her
face. "It is a ring of office, I know that- The house of
Berevald, Carea's royal house, displays such rings." He
shrugged. "I know no more than that. Such rings of office
are not needed here. A coin or two of bronze will purchase
the respect of anyone that serves within these walls." A
bitter smile peeked from beneath his mustache as he spoke-
He interested her. There was dry wit to his words and
an air of equality with her she would not have expected
from any man she might have found in this section of the
city. "Where have you come from?" she asked- "What
might be your name?'*

He did not answer her directly. Instead, he glanced
over his shoulder at the two men drinking wine in the far

10 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

comer of the tavern; an argument had sprung up between
them. Their voices grew loud. "My name is Palamon. I
came in from the street that lies outside."

Without waiting for her response, he crossed the room,
moving toward the two fellows with a quickness that be-
lied his height and age. He leaned over the two and said
something in a low voice. They looked up at him. Then
they stopped speaking and watched him as he returned
to face Aelia.

"What was it that you said?"

"I bade them both observe your beauteous self, with
what fine, regal grace you move, and how your features
brighten up this room. I think they were so stunned at
what they saw, their voices died away—or faded, rather,
as would fog, come morn." He smiled at her again, a bland
smile this time. His face was like a mask.

Aelia needed to make a decision. She knew little about
this man; she had heard odd rumors of his prowess and
unknown origins but she could neither confirm nor deny
what she had heard. She could guess by his attitude that
he would not add to her knowledge. She and her Princess,
the lovely hostage Berengeria, would require a staunch
warrior to help them pass through the ordeal they were
facing. But they needed to find one who had no connec-
tion to the court ofLothar the Pale, and who was unknown
to the armies of Buerdaunt,

She angled for a clue. "If I could set a sword into your
hands, then could you wield it fiercely and with strength?"
The question meant much to her. "If I could promise
riches, honor, fame, then would you serve me faithfully
and well? Or would you fly when danger first appeared?"

She studied his reaction. A wary, weary look crawled
across his features; he was reluctant to enter into the game
she was playing. But the game did seem familiar to him.
"I keep the order here within these walls, expelling those
who come to break the peace, replacing legs on chairs,
discarding slops. The challenge that you issue fits me not;

'tis like a heavy sword in pander's hands."

"But would you take it up for riches, sir?"

He shrugged. "If riches were my goal, would 1 be here?"

DENNIS MCCARTY

11

She looked him over again. He had been a warrior,
there was no doubt about that. He was no longer young;

he approached two score years in age—her age or a bit
more. Still, his body was trim. She looked at his arms
and legs; they were knotted with muscle. His chiton hung
loosely across his lean midriff. She could count several
scars: one great, pale slash on one calf, another on the
right arm above the wrist, a couple of smaller marks on
his left forearm—his shield arm. Yes, he had been a war-
rior. But what sort of warrior? Had he been a mercenary,
killing for whatever patron would pay the most, or had
he been a common soldier? Why did he hide himself in
this tavern in this cesspool district of the city? "You do
speak well and also with some wit. Then might you even
be of noble birth?"

"I cannot say of what birth I might be."

More half answers- Was he toying with her? Perhaps
he was a fugitive; she would have preferred a man of
honor. Still, a fugitive could be made to suit her purpose;

she could ofier wealth and security, although at the price
of some risk-taking. Be he renegade knave or honorable
warrior, the offer she could make would be attractive. But
did he have valor? That was cardinal and she would never
find out in the public room of a tavern.

She glanced at the host. He had retired behind the
counter but still watched her with suspicious eyes. She
leaned her head close to Palamon and spoke softly so only
be could hear. "I do not know you, sir, but I've heard
talk. You do not give me facts to help my choice but still
I have these words to say to you; you seem to recognize
my ring; the house I serve is that of Berevald- Then you
must know that Berengeria is long held hostage. That is
why 1 come out from behind the heavy walls of Lothar's
Pomfract Castle. Just one time each seven days, I may
come forth to do my Lady's shopping in the town.

"Arrangements have been made for our escape, attend-
ants bribed, some secret corridors made open by my keys.
In five nights, there will be no moon above. Then with
my dear Princess, my Berengeria, I shall emerge outside
the castle walls. For we must flee pale Lothar's custody

12 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

and make our way around the Thiassa Mey and to her
father, grieving Berevald."

His expression wavered. It was only a matter of a
degree or so, a hair's breadth movement at the comer of
his mouth. But she noticed it all the same. The burden of
uncertainty upon her eased a bit; she would choose this
man to help her and her Princess in their flight. "You are
not wise to tell me of your plan," he said. "You know me
not. I might pass on this tale for one small handful of pale
Lothar's gold."

She shook her head. "No, you will not. Deceit's not
in your face."

He ignored the remark. 'To journey all the way to
Carea is rashness born of desperation. Two women, both
of high condition such as yourself and Berengeria, will
not fare well, for many dangers lurk in any transit of the
Thiassa Mey."

"Then will you help us? Riches shall be yours; high
honor, glory, all a man might wish will be your lot when
we reach Carea."

He sighed; that sigh meant much to her. She knew she
had read him correctly. He had taken part in such adven-
tures before. There was no fear in the sigh, nor was there
the gleaming eye of one who took up a challenge without
knowing the dangers to be faced. It was the sigh of a man
who had faced danger, who had overcome that danger,
and who was weighing many factors before he consented
to face it again. He gazed back at her, his expression
shifting with the thoughts that boiled behind his face. "It
is a hard thing that you wish of me. You wish me now to
reembark upon a life I cast away some years ago." He
paused, his eyes shifting about the room. "'Perhaps' is
all I say." He looked at her for a moment, then turned
and strode toward the doorway.

Her eyes followed the swaying shoulders. He had not
given her much of an answer. But she prided herself on
one thing; all her life, she had read volumes in words or
gestures that had meant nothing to others, though they
might have observed as keenly as she. He had been moved
by her words. "Wait," she said.

DENNIS MCCARTY               13

He turned to look at her once more. She glanced at
the host, then back at the tall warrior. "Have you ever
«een the starlight dance its way across the river's crests
outside the gates of this Buerdaunt? 1 say to you the
nearest grove unto the gate is most majestic just at sunset
tune. I often go there; I have watched that sight as many
times as there are fingers on my hand."

He stared at her for a moment- His face was a mask
once more. "No, I have not been there." Then he turned
•gain and disappeared.

She did not wait to be approached by the host; she
gathered her attendants and departed, hurrying to reach
Pomfract Castle, the King's stronghold, in time to avoid
casting suspicion upon herself. After all, she did not know
for sure what the palace steward had seen and reported.

But she had risen from humble status as a lowly sub-
priestess dedicated to the deity Hestia, to her post as
guardian to Princess Berengeria. She had been able to do
this because of her insight into human nature. She had
no choice but to trust her judgment, now.

As for Palamon, he did not return to what he had been
doing before, scrubbing out the great amphorae in which
wine and ale were carried to the tavern. Instead, he climbed
the rickety stairs that led to his garret chamber. He returned
to his tiny room with its single window which now admit-
ted sunlight and the noise and stink rising from the street
below. There was nothing here but the cot, a large wooden
chest, and a heavy mourning cloak hanging in a corner.

He sat heavily upon the cot and stared at the blank
wall facing him. Then, drawing forth a key from about
his neck, he unlocked the chest, lifting the heavy lid with
the air of a man about to release a viper.

He removed odds and ends from the chest—clothes,
parchments, other articles. At last, near the bottom, his
hand rested upon what appeared to be a pile of light chain.
He moved it with the tip of one finger and there was a
low, metallic rustling. He lifted the object, withdrawing
a hauberk, a long shirt of the finest chain mail, an object
of cunning craftsmanship not often found along the shores

14       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

of the Thiassa Mey. It gleamed softly, greenish gold in
the sunlight.

There was another object left in the box besides the
suit of chain mail. That he also reached in and removed.
It was a large sword. The blade had several knicks in it,
but the double edge still gleamed where it had been last
touched by the stone- The haft, which was long enough
to accommodate both of his broad hands, was finely
wrought but was worn nearly smooth with age and use.

The sword's pommel was unusual; in fact, it was not
a pommel at all. It was the end of a finely carved cylinder
of hom roughly the diameter of a large coin, polished and
painted crimson, although much of the enamel had been
worn away. Enscribed into it was a single word; BLOOD.
He passed his finger along the word several times. "Blood
is the word which links me to my past, and would that I
could know its meaning. Ah, my noble blade, should I
take you on one more quest? But then, how can I take
you up again and open up the portals which defend me
from my shame, the anguish of that awful, bygone day?"

With a groan, he cast the two objects back into the
box. He sat once more upon the cot and rested his face
in the palm of one hand. Were there tears? With his face
shielded by his fingers, it was difficult to tell. And there
was no one there to see.

Chapter Two:

A Dangerous Meeting

THE ANCIENT CITY wall stretched into the distance like
a sinuous, upright shadow. The towering inland gate
loomed overhead, its cavernous archway full of darkness.
The men of the evening guard loitered casually, leaning
against the massive stones that formed the gate itself.
trading lies and jokes around a bonfire built beside the
road leading southeast from the gate.

Beside the road rolled the river Priscus, dark and dank
smelling, through a huge, barred aperture a few cubits
from the gate. Its gurgling accented the low voices of the
guardsmen.

To this gate came a tall figure dressed in a mourning
cloak that hid everything but his face, hands, and feet. It
was Palamon. He had come, as Aelia had known he would,
The guardsmen glanced idly at him as he strolled past
them, then one finally stepped in front of him to ask his
business. They talked for a moment, Paiamon gave an
excuse, and the guardsman stood aside and watched the
dark form until it passed out of the firelight and disap-

15

16

FLIGHT TO THIASSA MEY

peared. Then the guardsman turned and spoke to another,
who mounted a horse and rode into the city.

Palamon walked steadily, his sure step on the dark
roadway showing that he was no stranger to travel, even
on the blackest nights. He gauged his step by the sound
of the river, by the feel of the road's surface, and by the
calls of the animals out of the darkness. He made sur-
prisingly good time. He walked until he could hear the
wind playing turnabout with the leaves of many trees.
This was the first grove that stood along the road leading
southwest from the inland gate. If he had rightly followed
Aelia's statements in the tavern, this was where he was
to await the fleeing hostages. For it was the fifth night
and there was no moon.

He stopped. There was no sound but the wind, insects,
and small animals. Either he was mistaken or Aelia and
her Princess Berengeria had not yet made good their escape
from the city. Perhaps they would not come.

He stepped to the roadside, then took a few paces
more, his feet rustling through the spring grass. He felt
the trunk of an oak before him and leaned against it, gazing
back into the darkness where the road lay.

Palamon knew about this Princess Berengeria and her
imprisonment. More than two years ago, she had been
taken hostage by Lothar the Pale, although no one who
spoke of it ever knew how. But her presence in King
Lothar's keep was the keystone of his diplomacy and the
reason for the sudden upsurge in Buerdaunt's fortunes.

It was common knowledge. The kingdom ofCarea con-
trolled the strait between the Thiassa Mey and the ocean-
But Princess Berengeria was the only surviving child of
Carea's King Berevald and his Queen, Goswinth; her life
had to be preserved to maintain the integrity of that land's
royal line. For that reason, to prevent her execution, Ber-
evald had opened without duty the Narrow Strait, grant-
ing passage to Buerdaunt's fat merchant ships. The wealth
of the lands beyond the Strait had poured into Buerdaunt
since then, making her the Queen City of the Thiassa Mey
while the fortunes of Carea had ebbed in proportion.

So Princess Berengeria had made her choice, it seemed.

DENNIS MCCARTY            17

She had to escape and make her way back to her homeland
or she had to perish in the attempt. In either event, Carea's
sway over the Narrow Strait would be restored and the
land's fortunes would recover, though the line of Princess
Berengeria's fathers could be wiped out in the bargain.

Palamon stared into the darkness. A familiar sigh
escaped his lips. He had fought along the shores of the
Thiassa Mey for many years and he had little stomach for
further danger, further carnage, further pain- What inter-
est could he have in the fates of nations?

But a courageous lady faced danger. Her mission was
a noble one—to return to the arms of her father and to
restore the fortunes of her land. Her body was not her
own in this; she was forced to risk herself because the
gods, in their wisdom, had given her the responsibility of
a royal title. And if need be, she would sacrifice herself
for the good of her homeland. What sort of knight would
have been craven enough to refuse aid to a maiden in such
a position? So Palamon waited beside the road, even
though his heart was not in the adventure. Aelia had read
him correctly.

After a time, he heard horses coming along the road
from the city gate. There was no mistaking the tread of
their hooves in the dirt roadway or the whuff-whuff of
their breathing. They approached, then stopped, and
someone dismounted. Palamon heard the scrape of the
shutter being raised on a hooded lantern. A sickly ray of
light appeared and played along the tree trunks around
him.

The light finally came to rest on Palamon- It was too
feeble to blind him and he began to walk toward it. A
man's voice came from behind the lantern. "Who are you?"

"I came to watch the starlight dancing softly on the
river's crests beside this grove." Palamon's agitation was
not revealed by his voice-

"Then it is he." This was a woman's voice; it belonged
to Aelia. "Please hurry, let us down."

The hood was lifted from the lantern, revealing a party
of four men on horseback, or so it appeared. The three
men who were still mounted, all dressed in the livery of

18       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

court attendants, climbed off their glistening steeds. The
long silks and bardings that hung far down the sides of
two of the horses were lifted. Palamon smiled. Strapped
by broad thongs to the bellies of two of the animals were
two females, Aelia and a young woman, doubtless Prin-
cess Berengeria herself. It was as good a way to pass the
sentry as any.

The attendants freed their passengers, who stood stiffly,
rubbing themselves and straightening their robes in a most
unroyal way. Princess Berengeria was a tall beauty, full
bosomed and hearty, though much of her form was hidden
by her traveling robe. Enough of her was visible to capture
Palamon's gaze—he could not tear his eyes from her. She
did not look familiar to him as such; he had no doubt he
had never seen her before in his life. Still, there was
something about her features which spoke to him, which
played chords upon the nerve endings at the back of his

mind.

The lantern gave her amber hair a sparkle as she
smoothed it over her shoulder. "Now, by my faith, these
horses' bellies make a tiresome, tedious ride. But free-
dom's gained. The balance of our journey will be play
until we look upon the walls of Carea."

She was speaking amiss, of course- The trek to Carea
would be full of dangers, especially once Lothar the Pale
learned of her escape. She knew this. The attendants knew
it. Doubtless, even the horses knew it. There was little
conviction in her voice and the smile was quickly gone,
replaced by a look of stress and fatigue. The smile did

not return.

Aelia stood and stretched, then nodded to Palamon.
"Tis good you've come, mysterious warrior. There are
but three of us, as you can see: myself, our good Princess,
and young Ursid, who holds the lantern forth. The others
are attendants who will all go back tonight." She gestured
toward the three men who busied themselves removing
the silks of the horses, revealing sturdy travel packs and
longbows secured beneath.

"Four mounts, four horsemen, rode out from the town.
Three men will now walk back while we ride on, two

DENNIS MCCARTY            19

; horsemen and their ladies, riding south." Aelia turned to
tiie young man who held the lantern. "Ursid, this man
wHI mount and ride with us. His broad experience will
serve us well."

Ursid was young; he wore the uniform and insignia
which marked him as an officer of the King's light cavalry.
His features were round and indistinct in the lantern light
and no moustache or beard decorated his face. He was a
well built fellow; he stood taller than most men, though
he was still a hand's breadth shorter than Palamon. All
in all, he was a strapping youth and well bred; his face
would show considerable character once it had had time
to develop. He nodded at the tall warrior, "Whence came
you, stranger?"

Again Palamon smiled. "Along that selfsame road you
traveled on."

"An answer I like not." The young knight looked at
Aelia. "My Lady, how well do you know this man? How
can you know he'll not betray us all? When comes the
time to stand and fight our foe, how can you know he'll
not turn tail and fly?"

"I trust my judgment," was Aelia's only reply.

Princes Berengeria spoke. "Ursid, you must not let
your caution strip you of your trust in Lady Aelia's choice.
Her insight fails her seldom—never, by my faith, in times
when her decision bears such great import as does the
choosing of this warrior. And now we must away. Time
passes on, and with it comes discovery of our flight."

Suddenly she paused, her gaze fastened to the tall war-
rior's face. All the life had drained from it; he was a stone
likeness of his former self. She looked at him in dismay.
"Sir, what may be the matter?"

Palamon resumed his former expression. "Not a thing.
And I must note the wisdom of your words. We must
move on. To tarry breeds attack. We shall be taken, having
done no more than made acquaintance, one with all the
rest, assuring one another as we march unto King Lothar's
donjon that we were a company most fit to make this
flight." He stood gazing at them thoughtfully. "Prepare
the horses. I must step aside."

20       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

With that, he walked from the circle of light cast by
Ursid's lantern, leaving the three nobles to gaze at one
another. Aetia looked after him for a moment. Then she
turned to the attendants to complete her orders for the
horses' preparation. That done, she spoke with each one
of the servants quietly and sent them away-

Ursid turned to her- "This warrior of yours is strange.
Though he suggested haste, his absence breeds delay."

But Ursid's criticism was cut short by a cry which rang
out of the darkness. Not far off, in the brush along the
road, there was the sound of a furious struggle- An oath
split the air. His lantern swaying, Ursid dashed toward
the commotion; the light revealed two men rolling over
and over as they struggled on the ground. One of them
was Palamon- The man he grappled with was unknown
to any of them. But the stranger fought desperately, almost
slipping from the tall warrior's grasp. Still, Palamon gained
mastery even as the others arrived; he gained control of
the other man, dragged him to his feet, and slammed him
against the trunk of a beech tree.

"Who are you?" Palamon's voice was a savage growl.
"You are quite a clumsy spy. Who set you to surveillance
of our talks?"

The man stopped struggling. He stood limply in the
tall warrior's grasp but did not respond to the interroga-
tion. His breathing was harsh and erratic.

Ursid drew his longsword. "Let's slay this fellow, then
be on our way."

Palamon looked narrowly over his shoulder at the young
knight. "The sword is yours. You do it."

"Wait a bit." Aelia approached the captive and looked
at him closely. "Do you know Gymon, Steward to the
King?"

The captive nodded.

"Why were you sent to spy on our escape?"

"I know not."

She reached past Palamon and grasped the captive by
his rough beard. "What's the game the Steward plays? Is
he directed by some higher post or does he act upon his
own? Speak out."

DENNIS MCCARTY

21

The captive could only shake his head. He was sweat-
ing freely. "Word came from a guard in the Steward's hire
that this fellow had left the town." He jerked his head
toward Palamon. "My orders were to follow him and mark
what transpired."

"And while you did, your master took his tale unto the
King. That much I'll wager." She turned away from the
man, giving orders to Ursid over her shoulder as she
walked away. "Bind him. Get some rope. These meddlers
slash the web of my intrigue. We must away, to ride as
fast as may be dared in darkness, ere the cavalry comes
down about our ears. Our hope's in speed." She stamped
her foot on the rough forest floor. "One night, at least,
Fd hoped to gain. Foul chance."

They bound and gagged the spy, then leaped onto their
steeds and turned the animals' heads away from Buer-
daunt. Ursid's lantern was again shaded until a feeble
beam of light showed the road in front of them. Ursid
himself rode beside Palamon, looking at him often. There
was no speech. Still, the four of them had to be thinking
along the same lines. There would be no sleep through
this night; they would ride the darkness out if they were
to have hope of outdistancing the King's pursuit. So the
night would be a long one; still, there was fear it would
not be long enough.

Chapter Three:

A Skirmish

THE HOURS OF the night crawled away as the four
fugitives rode their horses through the darkness. The pace
was tedious; they could only hope the King's mounted
soldiers could move no faster than they themselves were
moving.

Dawn came at last. The hills about them became sil-
houettes against a gray sky and stands of forest began to
appear as dark patches against a paler background of
meadow grass. Palamon found himself looking back for
signs of pursuit, but the road behind them remained empty.

As they reached the crest of a hill, Ursid raised his
hand. The details of the member, the smooth knuckles
and the shining fingernails, were already visible in the
light of the new day.

"But hold." The young man's voice was a murmur in
the chilly air. "I see his Majesty's patrol." He pointed.
The road ahead of them dropped along the hillside, cross-
ing a dew-glazed meadow until it was interrupted by a
stream a dozen cubits in width. There, four horsemen in

22

DENNIS McCARTY               23

tile long cloaks of Lothar's cavalry were watering their
steeds. "However did they pass us in the night?"

Berengeria caught her breath. "The trees. We must ride
for the trees, our only hope."

"No, wait" Palamon *s voice was low and calm. 'There
is no doubt that we are seen. We stand against the telltale
skyline now; for us to ride away will bring pursuit."

"What shall we do?"

Palamon paused, then a smile brightened his features.
**Ride down and greet them. No alarm could lie among
these men of Lothar's at this time. The word cannot have
passed us as you think."

Ursid's voice was uneven. "But they shall carry news
that we were here."

Palamon shook his head. "They cannot give that word
till they report. And by that time, some hours will have
passed to give our trail a chance to cool and dry. They've
seen us, don't you see? To flee them now excites their
interest and builds cause for quick pursuit where it might
be delayed. Besides, we can't return along this road."

Aelia entered the conference. "These words are wise.
As we ride on, Ursid, construct a tale which, told from
out behind your uniform, will make them let us pass."

"As you request." Ursid's gaze turned toward the sol-
diers who sat astride their horses, watching the fugitives.
There was no hesitation in Ursid's movements but Pala-
mon noted the strain reflected in the young officer's smooth
features.

As the four riders approached them, the cavalrymen
rode up onto the near bank, the water splashing from their
horses' hooves. One of them rode ahead of his mates to
greet the foursome. Palamon was relieved to note that he
wore only the insignia of a horse sergeant; as an officer,
Ursid had a good chance of bringing off the encounter
with success.

"Good morrow, sir. And you, too, ladies." The ser-
geant saluted them crisply with a gloved hand. "What
brings you through this district at this early hour?"

"The business of the court," Ursid replied sternly. "But
what of you? The selfsame question could be asked of

24 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

you and your companions at this hour." Palamon watched
with concern; although he appeared relaxed enough, every
muscle was tensed for action. Ursid faced entrapment by
his own nerves. Turning the question back upon the ques-
tioner was a good enough tactic, but it was overdone in
this case. And the young officer's fingers played ner-
vously with his reins.

The other three soldiers rode slowly forward and now
waited behind their sergeant. Having answered Ursid's
retort only with a smile, that man spoke again. "Which
way do you ride?"

"North, toward the Greenlands city of Lacourd. Your
probes delay our journey, so relent." Though Palamon
gazed off at a distant herd of sheep, the conversation
remained in the center of his consciousness. The situation
was deteriorating. Ursid was getting more anxious by the
moment.

The sergeant showed he was an old hand at picket duty;

doubtless, he had been in uniform long enough to enjoy
his authority. He was uncowed by the young officer. Walk-
ing his horse forward a few steps, he gazed past Ursid at
the two women; his eyes fastened upon Berengeria's face.
"My pardon. Lady. Now it almost seems that I have seen
you somewhere else before, although I cannot place you
at this time."

He had no chance to ponder further. With a lightning
motion, Ursid drew his longsword and there was a sick-
ening thump as the blade ended its vertical arc in the
sergeant's neckbone. The victim's hands slid off his pom-
mel as he fell beneath the stroke. "Now ladies, flee." The
words rose from Ursid's throat in a harsh cry as he wheeled
to meet the other three soldiers.

Many things happened at once; the two women spurred
their mounts and galloped toward the stream, Ursid
charged the soldier who lunged after them, and Palamon
straightened in his saddle to confront the other two. With
both hands, Palamon reached behind his neck and brought
his heavy sword hissing from its concealed hanger, the
sword he had pondered in his chamber after his first con-

DENNIS MCCARTY            25

i1' ference with Aelia. The carved horn pommei ornament
was nearly hidden by his broad hands.

The battle was a short one. Palamon's weapon sent
one horseman's sword shivering from his grasp and a
second stroke cleaved the man from his saddle. The other
adversary had no stomach for fighting; he spurred his
mount so heartily it reared, then fled at a gallop along the
road that led back to Buerdaunt.

Palamon did not pursue the man because a glance
showed he was well mounted and would be run down
only after a long chase, if at all. Palamon watched him
for half an instant, shrugged, then turned toward the stream
bank.

Ursid was locked in a vicious duel with the last horse-
man. But before Palamon could reach them, Aelia plunged
her dagger into the man's thigh, distracting him. This was
all that was needed to enable Ursid to land a fatal blow.

Aelia turned upon Ursid, lecturing him in harsh tones,
her voice searing the cool air. "Your thoughtless act lays
bare our very lives. Have you no better brain than what
you show—to make yourself a fugitive before the man
has fully challenged you?"

"He knew us, madam. That was in his eyes."

"The man knew nothing. All he did was wear the atti-
tude that makes a guilty heart reveal itself, a method
doubtless learned through many years of duty. And you
cracked. You fool. And now our path of flight is known.
No secrets can we keep; our foes learn all." Her lips
drawn into a tight line, she turned from him. "So tell me,
Palamon, how little time remains before this infant's
thoughtless deed brings all Buerdaunt's horse soldiery
about our heads?"

Palamon's answer was lightly delivered. "A trifling
question, for the act is done. These three will never tell
a soul with speech." He gestured about him toward the
three fallen cavalrymen. "There may be powers evil and
occult to pry the story from their lifeless lips, but, for the
moment, we may rest assured that they will never speak
in tones which soldiers hear. As for the other..." He
paused, twisting in his saddle to look at the hilltop over

26 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

which the last soldier had disappeared. "As for the last,
he'll not appear before a rigid officer, at least until his
undergarment's changed. So greatly did we fright him that
I fear his late digested supper shares his seat. He fairly
reeked in bidding us farewell,"

So glibly was this last statement uttered that it brought
half a snicker, even from Aelia's lips. But the moment
passed quickly and she was serious once more. "Your
humor blunts the edge of anger, sir. But still we must ride
on."

"That's true," Ursid said. "But which way shall we
ride? I told the sergeant we were riding north, a word his
cohorts surely overheard. If so, then that way's closed to
us." His head sank down upon his chest. "Oh, curse me
for my youthful lack of guile."

"Yes, that way's surely closed if our man heard." Pala-
mon's eyes searched the thick woods nearby as he spoke.
The trees were tall and spreading and they enclosed the
stream where it frolicked out of the meadow. "But then
our route about the Thiassa Mey will form a circle, either
way we go. 'Tis true the northern way is easier. The
northern lands about the Thiassa Mey are known, well
covered by small settlements. The southern route will
cross more rugged lands, and unexplored to boot. But
then, if it seems rough to us, 'tis so for them as well."

"And strange to Lothar's soldiers, same as us." Aelia
nodded. "A point that's worth considering."

"Indeed. In point of fact, there's little difference, as
like as not. For Lothar's soldiery will start from here and
fan out north and south. The forest's thick within its dark-
ened groves, but thickest to the south. So let's ride there."

He turned his mount toward the south, assuming a role
as leader which the others wordlessly accepted, so easily
did he take it up. He led them at a smart pace along the
wandering stream, sometimes following its bank, some-
times riding at a distance. Later, the trail led them away,
along the side of a deep, grass-covered valley. They fol-
lowed it, always staying within the shelter of the trees
that lined the rim.

As they rode, they ate prepared meals from the horses'

DENNIS MCCARTY            27

packs. Ursid was riding alongside Palamon again. The
miles fell away; Palamon watched the trees about them
so intently he hardly even noticed the younger knight's
presence. Then it occurred to him that Ursid was staring
at him.

Palamon turned his head, and a slight smile lifted the
comers of his mouth. "You wish to speak?"

Ursid took a long time to reply. "I had suspicions of
you at the start. I think that I was wrong."

"It's to be hoped."

"Your life is forfeit now, back in Buerdaunt. You laid
a guardsman low. I've noble blood, which does protect
me some. These ladies here are valued hostages; they'll
not be killed. So Lothar's wrath will therefore fall on
you."

"The wrath of kings, an honor to be prized." Palamon's
smile did not change.

"His vengeance will, without doubt, cost your life."

"All life must end."

Palamon's response made Ursid pause. "It means so
tittle, then?"

"The value of a life is nothing more than how it's prized
by him who yields it up. I have seen dogs with which
'twas greater sin to snuff them out than it would be with
me."

"You cannot mean that."

'That is very true." Palamon looked at Ursid, still smil-
ing.

Perplexed, the younger knight finally shook his head.
"You do not seem to care, A trifle, then, is all life's worth
to you," He was silent for a long rime. Finally he spoke
again. "I owe you thanks for turning Aelia's wrath."

Palamon's eye flicked toward Ursid again and he noted
that the younger knight glanced over his shoulder at the
two women as he spoke. Palamon did not bother to stifle
a laugh. "She's quite redoubtable. I think her wrath is
much more to be feared than that of kings." He paused.
"A noble lady—noble, all the same."

Ursid gazed back at Palamon. "I thank you from my

28 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

heart. I do not know if such things count with you, but
if they do, you have my thanks and also my respect."

Palamon did not reply.

Ursid continued. "One question more. When we first
met with you in darkness, east of Buerdaunt's river gate,
I looked at you and thought you went unarmed. Your
cloak concealed no weapon greater than a dagger's blade.
But now I see you wield a mighty sword, and with a
warrior's touch."

The smile Palamon had been wearing until now wrin-
kled into a different expression. "The art of killing's not
so hard to leam."

Ursid reached out and laid a hand upon Palamon's
shoulder but the tall warrior flinched at the touch. "And
then I find, beneath your cloak and hood, you wear this
gleaming chain mail, finely wrought, constructed with a
craft I've rarely seen.'*

"Beware, young man." Palamon drew away from the
young knight. He had not noticed the tear in his cloak
until now. It was actually a cut, rather than a tear, put
there by the sword of the horseman he had killed. But
the blade had glanced off his hauberk so harmlessly Pala-
mon had never even noticed the blow.

A few days ago, when Palamon had pondered his sword
and this hauberk in the uneven light of his chamber, he
had been overwhelmed by the rank mustiness of the
thoughts stored in the vaults of his mind. But now he
wore the finely crafted armor beneath his cloak, its links
gleaming even in the shade of the overhanging trees. His
smile returned as though rushed into place. "Beware,
young man. You do not know from whom I stole this
shirt. You cannot know what knight, in drunken stupor,
gambled it away or sold it for the price of Buerdaunt ale
or lost it, lying in an alleyway."

Once more Ursid was surprised by Palamon's reaction.
His questions became confused, erratic. "You've fought
before. What places have you been? What is your history?
Whence came your hauberk? You have filled me up with
questions but you answer none of them. Whence came

DENNIS MCCARTY

29

this shirt?" His voice faltered. "But do not answer if you'd
rather not."

Palamon laughed once more at the young knight's
uncertainty- "Indeed, I'd rather not." He nudged the Hanks
of his horse with his heels and cantered ahead between
the trees, still chuckling.

But as he neared the crest of the next hill, he reined
in his mount and looked back at the two women and Ursid,
waiting for them to catch up. He thought better of his
cavalier attitude toward the young knight as he watched
their approach; the passion of the fight with Lothar's cav-
alrymen had passed away, leaving them all sagging like
empty wine skins. They were in danger at all times; he
wished to do nothing to break down the unity of this tiny
party. Most of all. at this time of fatigue, they needed to
remain alert.

Something had to be done to keep them from being
overcome by drowsiness; besides, Palamon really was
tired of Ursid's questions. So he looked at Berengeria as
she came near. "Princess, strange fortune was the force
required to sweep the two of you to Lothar's hands. Me-
thinks it might help pass the hours away if you could tell
me this odd tale. Tell how you came to be his hostages,
and by what fortune did you find escape."

Aelia interrupted. "We have no time for tales. When
we are safe and free from all pursuit in Carea, then that
will be the time to tell a tale."

"Perhaps. But if I fall this afternoon in bloody combat,
aiding in this flight, I should be three times saddened by
my fall, not knowing the beginnings of the tale."

Berengeria herself responded to his words. "Perhaps
that would be well. I need to speak. So many thoughts
make war within my sou!, reflections both of hope and
also fear, that speaking might unburden me a bit."

As he listened to her, Palamon felt himself lanced once
again by a pang of sympathy for Berengeria in her plight.
His softness for young women in distress had cost him
dearly in the past; still, it was a part of his nature. He
could not overcome it. "Then tell your tale, Princess. And
tell it well. Then, though I face a hundred cruel deaths in

30 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

coming weeks. 1 never shall complain. The very gods will
gaze down at my corpse and envy me for dying well
informed."

"You make a joke of death. But that is well." Beren-
geria's tone had become lighter. That was good; perhaps
she was even smiling. "You've earned your tale, then,
mystery warrior—a strange one to relate, by Hestia's
veil. I'll tell it all; I'll tell how Berevald, Carea's King,
had all his lovely children torn away. A sad tale it will be
and strange besides; a tale of magic, vengeance, enmity.
I still must marvel at it all, myself."

Chapter Four:

Berevald and His Children

THE PARTY RODE on into the afternoon, urging their
mounts forward at the quickest pace that could be set
without jading and galling the animals. Berengeria took a
deep breath. "My tale is rooted in the mists of time, and
to recount its origins will take some thought. But be that
as it may, I'll do my best.

"I shall begin the telling of my tale and speak of such
a time, long years ago, when Berevald, my father, was a
youth."

Palamon listened carefully as the maiden began her
story. His eyes scanned the hillsides about them, but all
the while he listened to the rise and fail of Berengeria's
voice. In the telling of this tale could lie some clue to the
dangers they all might face later.

Berengeria had not been bom at the beginning. King
Berevald had barely assumed the throne ofCarea and was
still seeking a wife. The newly crowned King was already
a noted warrior and was a fine match; his name was spo-
ken often in the courts about the Thiassa Mey.

31

32 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

But a match had been made for him. Before his death,
Berevald's father had arranged for the Prince to wed
Goswinth, a Princess of the Outer Island kingdom of Artos.
After much consideration, it was Berevald's decision to
honor this betrothal. Therefore, a deputation was selected
and a fleet was levied to be sent to Artos to fetch the new
Queen.

The leadership of the deputation fell to a man called
Alyubol, an advisor to King Berevald as well as a longtime
friend- This Alyubol was an interesting, unpredictable fel-
low. He had met Berevald as a boy because he had been
the son of Berevald's history tutor. They had played
together. Later, they had campaigned together.

But Alyubol had never been a typical warrior- Never
had he made bones about his distaste for battle itself; still,
he had become a cunning strategist. His tactical advice
was seldom proven wrong, whether in war or politics; he
was constantly studying the volumes and memoirs of past
kings, soldiers, statesmen, and sages. He searched end-
lessly for strategems, facts, and policies. Any means of
achieving an end without direct risk to himself or his
position was policy for Alyubol.

He had proven to be a valuable friend, a crafty nego-
tiator, a canny advisor. And so it was that as Berevald
had risen, Alyubol had risen by his side. And Alyubol
was made leader of the delegation to Artos.

Once in Artos, however, Alyubol did something held
by bis friends and foes alike to be impossible. He fell in
love. From his first sight of Princess Goswinth, he was
possessed by a ravening desire for her which was only
intensified by any amount of modesty she might display,
any devotion to Berevald she might proclaim, any distaste
for Alyubol himself she might reveal. He wanted her. He
determined to have her.

Because of this, the negotiations over Goswinth's dow-
ery went badly from the start and her voyage to Carea
was postponed time and again. And while Alyubol haggled
over the smallest details of the affair by day, he attempted
to gain access to Goswinth by night. At last her father,
learning of these advances, sent a secret protest to King

DENNIS McCARTY            33

Berevald himself. Alyubol was recalled to Carea, much
to his chagrin.

There followed an awful scene between the two friends.
There was arguing, shouting, and, on the part of Alyubol,
even threats and weeping. The two men parted company
forever. When the royal wedding at last took place, Alyubol
watched, seething, from a place reserved for the lesser
nobles before Carea's Temple of Hestia.

So the friendship was ended. After the nuptials, the
royal couple received a large package from the frustrated
courtier. When opened, it revealed a large um which burst
asunder before it could be approached by Berevald or
Goswinth, filling the room with flying shards, smoke, ser-
pents, and poisonous fumes. Unhurt but aghast, the cou-
ple stared at the shambles which had been King Berevald's
presence chamber. There could be no doubt: Alyubol had
included some forbidden lore in his voluminous readings.

His arrest was ordered, but he had disappeared. And
the matter did not end there. For several more weeks,
ums of greater or lesser size appeared in the streets of
the twin cities of Carea, each one bursting and releasing
smoke, gas, birds, vipers, or even rats and swine. Many
citizens were hurt, and some were killed. Then Alyubol's
new hatred of the King took another, more sinister, turn.
The last word from him was contained in a short letter,
a missive left on the steps of the palace- It warned Ber-
evald that all the children produced by his union with
Goswinth would be Alyubol's, to do with as he wished.
After that no more was heard of or from the strange man.

But at least no more urns were found and no more
letters appeared. Alyubol was proclaimed an enemy of
the court for treason, attempts upon the lives of the King
and Queen, and the practice of wizardry. But he was never
found.

The months passed and he was forgotten. After a year,
the royal couple's first child was born, to be named
Beredoric. There was rejoicing at the birth of the heir. A
great tournament was held in his honor. From all the lands
that ringed the Thiassa Mey came knights and spectators,
from Oron, Buerdaunt, and Gesvon. From the Fastness

34 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

of Pallas they came, from the Outer Islands and Artos,
and of course, from the twin cities of Upper and Lower
Carea. King Berevald himself competed in these games,
for he was still a young and robust man.

All the court turned out to see the jousting and the
swordplay. And since the listing grounds had been set up
in a nearby village. Upper Carea was left nearly deserted;

no one of account was in the capita! save the infant in
whose honor the tournament was being held, the ladies
who were to attend him, and the palace guard.

At the end of the first day's gaming, Berevald and
Goswinth returned to their castle to find a scene of mys-
tery spread before them. The guards at the great gate were
asleep. In the private quarters of the royal couple, the
attendants were asleep. Fearing the worst, Goswinth and
her husband rushed to the nursery where their fears were
confirmed: the nurses were also asleep and the infant
Beredoric was gone.

Once revived, all told the same story. The day had
gone peacefully enough until sunset. At that time. a soft,
yellow vapor had risen up from several potted ferns kept
about Castle Conforth's grounds. No one had marked it
much. But within moments, the mist had thickened and
had begun to roll across the tiled floors, along corridors,
and up staircases. The plants in the palace gardens had
begun to exude the same mist. All who had watched
them—maid, nurse, and guardsman alike—bad grown
drowsy so quickly no alarm had been sounded. The
townsfolk had noticed the wicked-looking mist rising up
within the walls of the castle but none had questioned it.
All had thought it a part of the great celebration.

The court was thrown into chaos. Ignoring the loss of
prestige it caused him, the King canceled the remaining
events of the tournament. The army of Carea was turned
forth to scour the kingdom in search of the missing heir.
Weeks passed. In spite of all the efforts of King and com-
moner alike, the child was never seen again. Ships dragged
the bottom of the Narrow Strait, parties searched the
rocky cliffs above the city. The bodies of all infants reported
dead during the next fortnight were examined by the King

DENNIS MCCARTY

35

personally, as well as all those that were living and were
below the age of one year. The results were all the same.
Beredoric was gone forever.

Time passed. It did not remove the pain caused by the
loss of the infant Prince but it did bring another baby boy
to replace him. This time precautions were taken that
Berethar, as he was named, be protected against accident
or the intrigues ofAlyubol- He was surrounded by armed
guards at all times. He never set foot outside Castle Con-
forth except under armed escort. Whatever area of the
castle he entered, whatever tower chamber, whatever yard,
was locked and barred against any intruder except the
King and Queen and those in their presence. The passage
of any member of the royal family was now marked by
the sliding and crashing of bars, the snapping of locks,
and the scuffling of feet.

These measures had good effect; the child passed his
first birthday without mishap. Then his second year came
and went. A third year passed and after it, a fourth. That
year brought more joy to Berevald and Goswinth for the
Queen gave birth to another child, this one a girl who was
named Godigisel.

The precautions that had served Berethar so well were
adopted for Godigisel, and with the same results. The
private lives of the royal family ran undisturbed for some
months. But before the year was out, Godigisel became
HI. She wasted away day by day, while the parents grieved,
not knowing whether she suffered from some sickness or
from the baneful influences of Alyubol- For fear that
Berethar would be affected by the malady, he was sent
under guard to Lower Carea, a few leagues away. Shortly
thereafter, Godigisel died.

But that was not all. On the same night the infant girl
passed away, a great fire erupted in the dockyards of
Lower Carea, spreading through the port city in aston-
ishing time. All things were thrown into chaos by it. Mem-
bers of the young Prince's guard rushed about, moving
him often to keep him from the crawling flames. Many
went to fight the fire themselves. In the confusion, he was
passed from the arms of one guardsman to the arms of

36 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

another; by the time the rising sun looked down upon the
smoldering ruins of the flame-shattered city, Berethar had
passed into unknown realms, never to be seen again.

If the loss of the infant Beredoric had been a tragedy
for his parents, the losses of Berethar and Godigiset, com-
ing as they did on the same night, were a catastrophe.
The Queen took to her bed and would not speak while
the King wandered through his chambers far into each
night. He would brood, staring vacantly, hearing nothing
said to him until it had been repeated several times. Some-
times he would gnash his teeth and snarl the name of

Alyubol.

As they had before, the royal couple recovered, but
their great losses left scars, both without and within. They
seemed to age and shrink within their own bodies. They
grew sullen and suspicious, speaking to few and trusting
no one, not even one another.

Four years later, when a fourth child, Veranus, was
born, the event was greeted with more fear and whispering
than joy. Neither his mother nor his father could look
upon the babe without turning away to avoid a display of
tears. Perhaps it was this absence of any happy emotion
in his tiny world that spelled the end for little Veranus.
At any rate, he died before his first birthday.

The King and Queen accepted this loss, each with the
air of one whose lack of hope serves as guardian against
more pain. They slept apart now, and the King's footsteps
never sounded in the Queen's chambers. He administered
his realm from rooms within his own wing of the palace
while the Queen performed her functions in hers. The
great hall at Castle Conforth stood empty. The royal cou-
ple rarely met and never spoke more than a word or two
to each other; they became strangers separated by their
fear of more grief.

They lived that way for years. Then, in the eighteenth
year of their marriage, something happened. Each year
it had been the custom of the royai couple to go to the
Temple of Hestia in Upper Carea to preside over the fes-
tival dedicated to the divine patroness of hearth and home.
In this year, the opening prayer of the festival was given

DENNIS MCCARTY               37

by a new acolyte, a subpriestess of few years, newly
ordained and very courageous.

In her prayer, this maiden asked for the blessing of the
goddess upon Carea and upon the rites taking place in
her holy temple. Then she turned her youthful face toward
the King and Queen, who were sitting in their pavilion,
each surrounded by a different troupe of courtiers. "We
ask thy blessing, Hestia, on these two," ran this portion
of the maiden's prayer. "Forgive them; they forsake the
marriage bed. Through fear of earthly pain, they do thee
wrong. Bring them together. Goddess, in thy name; 'tis
for the sake of our most blessed homeland that we pray."

In the years following the death of the fourth child,
the fate of a kingdom without an heir had been a common
topic for discussion in the closets and empty corridors of
the palace. But it had never been broached in the presence
of the King or Queen. For this reason, this prayer by this
unknown acolyte caused a sensation.

The Queen burst into tears and fled from the temple
while the King simply sat in stunned silence. The sub-
priestess who had uttered the prayer, she who had shown
the efirontry to upbraid the royal couple before the pop-
ulace, was arrested.

After the premature ending of the festival, the offend-
ing maiden was brought before the King. She was very
young and Berevald towered over her. Still, she refused
to acknowledge any wrongdoing and refused to withdraw
the prayer from the temple's chronicles, however her life
or position might have been imperiled. She remained ada-
mant against both threats and pleas. She spoke tearfully
of the duty of King and Queen to produce an heir, regard-
less of their own misery. She was then taken before the
Queen and later was imprisoned.

But that evening Berevald visited the chambers of
Goswinth for the first time in eight years. The result of
this union was Berengeria herself.

But the birth of this daughter renewed the old fears
that lay across the royal marriage. She had to be pro-
tected. But how? Carea's entire army had not prevented
the losses of the other four children. It was decided to

38 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

send little Berengeria away to Anos, the land of her
mother; perhaps there she would be beyond the reach of
Alyubol.

The subpriestess from the Temple of Hestia, whose
name was Aelia, was brought forth from prison. In spite
other tender years, she had shown courage and integrity;

she was taken into the royal service and the baby was
placed in her charge. She was given the role of a young
mother with no husband; together, maiden and baby took
ship for the Hestian refuge on the island of Artos. A
common foundling took the place of royal Berengeria.

Thus was it that Berengeria was separated from her
parents and taken to spend the first eighteen years of her
life in a little chapel that stood alone in the northern forests
of Artos- The foundling survived to the age of six years.
Then she died like the other children before her, bringing
more grief to the King and Queen, who had come to look
upon her as their own child. But this time their real daugh-
ter still lived.

Still, the story was not ended. For those eighteen years,
Aelia fulfilled her duties faithfally. She instructed the young
Princess, was mother and father to her, guided her in the
ways both of a virgin dedicated to Hestia and of a future
Queen. At last the time came to take ship again, this time
for the voyage back to Carea.

But the vessel upon which they sailed had barely lost
sight of land when it was overtaken by a gleaming black
warship, a many-oared craft that bore down upon its vic-
tim and seized Berengeria and her guardian with hardly
a battle. They would never see her homeland. Instead,
they were kept bound and gagged as they were smuggled
overland to the Thiassa Mey and then to Buerdaunt, where
Berengeria became the hostage of Lothar the Pale.

How did it happen? How did King Lothar obtain the
information that allowed him to scoop up this crucial hos-
tage? No one knew. Lothar himself did not care to discuss
the matter, even with his closest advisors. But he had
obtained the priceless person of Berengeria. His note to
Berevald, who had never been an ally of his, arrived with
the impact of one of Alyubot's bursting ums from earlier

DENNIS McCARTY            39

years. The court in Carea was devastated. Not only was
Berengeria's existence known to other nations but her
transport home had been intercepted and she was as lost
to her parents as ever she had been.

Only then did the fortunes of Carea begin to decline.
Through all the years of grief and frustration. King
Berevald had carried on his royal duties despite the trag-
edies that had pursued him and his family. But now King
Lothar demanded free passage for his merchant vessels
and warships through the Narrow Strait, of which Ber-
evald was the master, in return for sparing the life of
Carea's heir. Faced with the loss of his remaining child,
Berevald consented.

So the riches of the Outer Islands, as well as the prod-
ucts of other lands beyond the Narrow Strait, found their
way to Buerdaunt. And the fortunes of Carea declined in
like measure. King Lothar had his key to domination of
the region and he was unlikely ever to let her go. The
number of vessels in the harbor at Lower Carea dwindled,
the royal coffers emptied, the army shrank, and the people
grew restive. But King Berevald remained paralyzed.

Military action was out of the question. So it remained
for Berengeria herself and her able mentor, Aetia, to seek
a solution of their own. After two years, that solution
presented itself in the person ofUrsid, a nephew of Lothar
the Pale and a newly commissioned officer in Lothar's
light cavalry.

It was Ursid who resented the politics of his uncle
enough to steal away the keystone of Lothar's foreign
policy. And though it was not to be said, it was Ursid
who, from the beginning, was infatuated enough with
Princess Berengeria to risk his uncle's wrath to free her.
But this fact was not presented by Berengeria as she told
her tale.

Chapter Five:

A Night in the Wilderness

PALAMON WATCHED BERENGERIA as she spoke the last
words of her story, her voice trailing away. When the tale
was done, she became silent and sad. She had not spoken
a word about how Palamon had been selected for the
journey, although he guessed that was a question Aelia
could have answered best.

Palamon had known parts of the history, though not
in the detail given by Berengeria. He had heard of the
tragic marriage of Berevald and Goswinth, though he had
never before heard the name ofAlyubol. And like the rest
of the world's onlookers, he had known of Berengeria's
existence only since Lothar's triumph over Carea's King.

"It is a wondrous tale," he said. "I thank you that you
thus inform a man you do not know."

"A trifle," Aelia said. "When it seems those secrets
held most tightly in one's bosom find their ways to all
one's enemies, then it's no sin to tell one's allies, too."

They rode on into the evening and the air became chilly
as the sun sank over the verdant hills to their right. The

40

DENNIS MCCARTY               41

gathering darkness slowed them greatly. The trail climbed
into a granite-rimmed ravine and the way became rocky
and difficult. The tired horses picked their weary way
among the rocks, occasionally stumbling.

At last the weak beam of Ursid's lantern showed a
slight widening of the trail they were following and Pala-
mon called a halt. "Fatigue now slows our progress more
than stony obstacles," he said. "We now should stop and
rest."

Berengeria yawned as Palamon helped her from her
horse. Her form was full within her robe, her supple body
was a pleasant weight as he helped her to the ground. He
could not keep from noticing the sublimity of the curved
shape within his grasp but he blocked the thought from
his mind. She was not for him.

Although she was plainly tired, Berengeria's fatigue
was warring with her resolve. "We've come a way indeed.
But Lothar's men pursue us still. This pause might well
afford to them the chance to gain much ground on us."

Palamon smiled at her. "Indeed, that's possible."

"Then any flight should be preferred to sleeping while
our hot pursuers ride us down."

Palamon and Aelia both looked at the young woman,
then at each other. Berengeria's face was a weary mask.
But still she was driven, kept upright by the desire to
reach her homeland.

Palamon laughed a short laugh. "Then you go on. But
I'll sleep here tonight."

"Now, mystery knight, whoever you might be and
whatsoever you have done for us, this mirth before this
good Princess reflects most poorly on you, sir." Aelia's
voice was full of anger.

Palamon looked at her, his smile never wavering. "For-
give me, then. But this great world in which we pass our
days will not revolve the less nor cease to team with life
if we should rest. The sun will drive his chariot across
the heavens on the morrow, I am sure. Whatever is our
fate, my Lady, rest assured our horses still shall chew the
budding grass, these leaves we hear shall rustle through
the night. The gods will watch a hundred years from now

42 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

and entertainment they derive from this, our crucial flight,
will long have left their blessed consciousness. So let us
sleep. The gods will not bar sleep."

'The fate of kingdoms matters not to you?"

"If my old body fails to get its rest, it matters not what
matters not to me."

But the dialogue was interrupted. Stress and fatigue
had overcome Berengeria; her knees buckled, she touched
her forehead, and a weak gasp escaped her lips. Together,
Palamon and Ursid caught her and lowered her gently to
the ground. "Our flight must wait till dawn," Palamon
said. "The maid needs rest."

Aelia fetched a blanket from one of the horses;

Berengeria was placed upon it and it was wrapped about
her. Her eyes fluttered open with the disturbance. "Fly
now. Fly we must."

"Her courage far outweighs her body's strength."
Aelia's face was drawn with concern. "We must allow her
rest." The discussion with Palamon was ended but Aelia's
displeasure still showed in her last glance at him.

There was a pause while Berengeria was tucked away
on a level bit of ground. Then Palamon turned to speak
to Ursid. "One man at least must watch for danger, now.
I've seen such times as these before; therefore 'tis I who
first should man the sentry post."

"Nay," Ursid countered. "I*m the younger man. These
hours rest but lightly on my neck. I'll take the watch."

Palamon shrugged and then unstrapped his sleeping roll
from his horse. "It's as you wish." He gazed at Ursid with
a smile, the same slight smile he had worn many times
during the night and day they had spent together. It made
Ursid uncomfortable. Was Palamon mocking him? "It's
as you wish, young knight," the tall knight said. "But
wake me in awhile, two hours or three."

"I'll wake you and we'll take turns through the night."

"I'll stand watch, too." Aelia had finished pulling a
second blanket over Berengeria's full body; now she stood
and looked at the two men, "You warriors need rest as
much as I, I'll wager that."

"You'll stand the watch and wake us if there's need?"

DENNIS MCCARTY            43

"I will."

"So be it, then." Palamon unrolled his own blanket and
stretched out upon it. "The roster's set and since that's
so well done, I'll go to sleep." With this, he flipped the
edges of the rough cloth over his chest with a flourish,
rolled up one end of it for a bolster, and closed his eyes.

"And that is that?" Aelia looked down at him without
expression.

"An odd man, though he seems quite capable." Ursid
seated himself upon a large stone and blew out the flame
in his lantern. The other members of the party became
invisible in the sudden darkness. "How was it that you
chose him for this trek?"

"I wind into my knitting gossip's threads," Aelia said.
"I heed those whom few others stop to hear, committing
into memory's counterpane all things that pass into my
weaver's grasp. But still and all, there's much I do not
know about this man." She yawned, then spoke again.
"I'll know it in a month, I warrant that."

The travelers gradually became silent. Finally, Ursid
could hear only the whirrings and gruntings of insects and
toads and the occasional howl of a wolf away, away down
the canyon below him. He had to stand his watch with
his ears; darkness had devoured everything- The only
light left in his world was the star-speckled ribbon of night
sky that wound between the looming granite walls of the
ravine itself.

Time passed. It seemed as if it had been eons, but a
glance at the movement of the stars between the cliffs
showed it had been hardly any time at all. Ursid yawned.
He drew his longsword and placed it across his lap, the
cool weight of the blade comforting him in this wilder-
ness. The night sounds made their own music by which
to stand his watch. He yawned again; time crawled by.

The youthful watchman deserved sympathy. He had
ridden for a night and a day and the nervous excitement
which had kept him alert had deserted him at last. Now
he was weary. He was weary beyond measure and the
hours that separated him from the end of his watch were
guileful enemies.

44 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Then Ursid opened his eyes and started as he saw the
first gray, predawn glow filtering between the cliffs above
him. He was mortified. He had slept. He had committed
an unforgivable sin and when the others awoke, he would
be chastised for his blunder. It was his second in as many
days.

He scrambled to his feet, picking up his sword from
where it lay in the grass. Sliding it back into its scabbard,
he cast a nervous glance about the clearing.

"Are you well?"

Leaping, Ursid turned to look for the speaker of those
words. It was Palamon. The tall knight sat like a death-
watch, his back propped against the base of a tree and
his mourning cloak wrapped about his shoulders. It was
still too dark to see whether he wore his enigmatic smile.

Ursid stared down at him. "How long have you been
there?"

Palamon gazed back, his face shadowed by the hood
of his cloak. "I've been here since I started from my sleep,
awakened by the sigh of steel on stone, a young man's
longsword slipping from his grasp as slumber slowly
dragged him from his post."

Ursid fumbled for words. But there was nothing he
could say. He could feel his face growing warm as the
blood flooded up into it and he hoped the dark form before
him did not notice that in the dim light. "Forgive me."

"Ah. Sleep's an ancient friend—and enemy. He comes
quite uninvited many times and some have neither weap-
ons nor the skill to drive him off when he arrives uncalled.
I know him well. I've learned to stave him off when that's
my wish and call him in a trice when I desire. I recommend
this skill to all young men."

Ursid sank down onto one knee in the moist grass, his
head drooping. "And 1 have shamed myself."

"No, not at all. A single honest error brings no shame—
or should bring none, if men were equal to the high ideals
they oft proclaim. No harm's been done, for I have stood
your watch."

There was no condemnation in the tall knight's voice.
In fact, in this moment of forgiving Ursid his error, he

DENNIS MCCARTY            45

seemed more human and approachable than at any time
during the journey so far. Still, the matter cut Ursid deeply.
Palamon had done him a favor, and, being an honorable
young knight, Ursid appreciated it. But it was time to
speak of something else. "I ache. I feel as stiff as if I were
a corpse."

"You slept without a blanket in the dew. Ah, well. To
feel as stiff as if you were a corpse is no great thing if
you can say 'tis so. If stiffness welds the joints of all your
frame and yet you cannot say that is the case, it's sure
you're dead in truth, a state more serious." Palamon stood.
The slice in the woolen fabric of his cape allowed his
hauberk to shine through; the chain mail gleamed dully,
even in the half light. "A stream's downhill from us. I'm
going to wash."

Ursid watched him as he swept through the brush that
surrounded them, quickly moving downhill and out of
sight. He did not return immediately. After awhile, there
was a stirring in one of the remaining blankets; Aelia sat
up and looked at Ursid. She yawned and stretched. "You
did not wake me. It's not in my heart to censure you and
yet I should protest. We all need sleep and I should share
die watch."

Ursid did not answer and hoped she did not notice as
he blushed once more.

Aelia glanced about. "And where is Palamon?"

"He left some moments past to go and bathe."

There was a sound in the brush and Palamon reap-
peared. Aelia looked at him. "Bathing, were you? Yet my
feeble eyes can see no moisture. You have dried off well."

"Your eyes are keen. No, I have not been wet. Yet
sometimes one must walk into the brush."

She gazed at him steadily. "Yes, that is so. I also will
have to take a little walk and all of us may have to do the
same before we ride. Awake her Highness gently, but with
haste."

As Aelia made her own way from the clearing, Palamon
knelt by the side of the sleeping maiden. She looked like
a vision transmuted into flesh as she lay before him; her
cheeks were pink with the bursting life of her youth and

46 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

her Ups had parted slightly to reveal the even pearls of
her teeth. Palamon found himsetf staring at her. There
was something different about her, something striking.
Palamon could sense the stink of fate about her. Did that
fate, that sense of fate which lay before him so palpably
bode well or ill? Did it lie between them or did it draw
them closer together? He could not tell and it did not
matter.

He turned away from her and summoned Ursid. 'The
task is yours to wake her," he said. "She is young; her
sleep is deep. For her to be so shocked out from her sweet
repose by such a sight as I..." He paused. "She knows
me not. We've only kept short company. 'Tis better, far,
that she should see your face, its youthful down so well
reflecting her own youth, than that she should be shocked
into the day by looking at my weathered, dried-out form."

He stood and watched as Ursid knelt where he had
knelt, tugging gently at the blanket Berengeria clasped
tightly about herself. Ursid was earnest about this task;

there was no doubt he would use the prescribed amount
of gentleness. Palamon turned and began to saddle the
horses.

Chapter Six:

A Knight of Pallas

AFTER THE HORSES had been saddled, goatskins were
filled and each member of the party took a long drink
from the stream that danced merrily along the floor of the
ravine. Then they started on their way, munching hard-
tack wafers and dried strips of mutton from their packs.

The ravine was spectacular as they rode upward toward
the stream's source in the rolling mountains to the south.
It reminded Palamon of the way a great log would have
split when the splitting wedges had first been driven into
it: the narrow, rough gash that would have been produced
just before the two sections would have groaned, cracked,
and broken apart. This ravine was like that, carved into
dark granite, covered with brush and lush undergrowth
until the stone itself could be seen only in occasional bare
spots which offered no foothold, even for the most tena-
cious plants. The four of them followed the trail scratched
along the bottom of this cleft. Nothing could be seen
except the verdure-covered walls towering a hundred cu-

47

48 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

bits over their heads; even those were visible only through
breaks in the brush that covered the rocks above them.

But there was no shortage of sound. The brush-cracking
steps of the horses blended with the chattering of the
stream, the squalling of birds, and the crooning of breezes
that blew up the ravine past them, until the sense of hear-
ing was rendered as useless by surfeit of stimulation as
the sense of sight was crippled by the blinding screen of
vegetation. But if they could not see out, neither could
others see in. And they would reach the top of the canyon
sometime.

"You are a native of Buerdaunt, Ursid," Aelia said.
"So tell us of this country to the south, and what lands
we may find by traveling on."

"I do not know a lot," Ursid said. 'The country's rough,
unmapped, and harsh. Few travel here, or none. Most
trading's done by coastal ships because all travel is so
difficult by land."

"That suits our purpose well, as I had hoped." Aelia's
voice was a murmur, addressed more to herself than to
the others. "Our route will take us in a sweeping arc, first
west, then northward, casting off pursuit. At last, when
many miles lie at our backs, we'll make our way unto the
Thiassa Mey and there we'll find conveyance to our home."

"A noble plan, my Lady," Palamon said, giving Aelia
a sidelong glance. "I misdoubt, however, that you first
conceived it here. Methinks your mind to be a fertile
womb, but not of sudden plans. You've thought this out."

"I do keep one or two schemes as alternatives, fer-
mented over years' captivity. A simple mind it is that has
but one."

"Ah, bravo, then. Your plan is nobler still for having
won a competition with, doubtless, many others, all with
facets recommending them to us, so I am sure. May all
the gods look down upon our flight and grant success, for
I am told the gods will always favor thoughtful men—
and women, too. So may they favor you."

"I thank you for your benediction." Aelia smiled through
her reply. "Though mockery is also in your tone- Beware,

DENNIS MCCARTY

49

mysterious knight. Tease only me. Do not aim disrespect
at mighty gods."

"Ah, never fear for me, my Lady. For the gods can
peer into a warrior's heart as easily as you into a glass.
Almighty Maiden Pallas, with gray eyes, and dear Hestia,
who presides o'er hearth and home, cannot find disrespect
in what I say. My words contain unbounded fear and awe,
respect and adoration without end, inspired in me by
them—as well as you." It was pleasant banter, this soph-
ist's trick that Palamon had played on her. By placing her
on a level with the gods in his estimation, he made the
crime of disrespect hers as well as his, even though only
in jest. Aelia smiled again, in spite of herself.

They rode onward, climbing toward the source of the
stream they were following. Midmoming came and the
sun climbed into the heavens until they could see the edge
of his brightness peeking over the cliff on their right.

By afternoon, they were following a trail that wound
steeply upward, switchbacking to and fro as it took them
over a lofty divide between two ravines. At the summit,
they paused to look down on the way they had come. The
lands they had crossed stretched away below them, rolling
off into the distance-

Suddenly, Ursid became tense. "Look there," he said,
pointing. "Can those be men?"

Palamon followed the extended finger. Off, far off in
the distance, a cluster of dark dots crossed a hilltop not
far from the way they themselves had passed.

Berengeria also stared at the tiny figures. There could
be no doubt they were horsemen. "Do they see us?"

"That's hard to ascertain," Aelia said. "But still their
way's not far from ours."

"Indeed. And we have skyline at our backs." Palamon
spurred his horse over the top of the pass. "Ride onward,
for we must assume we're seen."

They dropped down the other side of the divide, setting
a smart pace along the steep trail. Still, there was no way
of knowing how quickly King Lothar's cavalry would gain
upon them. They could not even be sure the horsemen

50 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

behind them had come from Buerdaunt, But they had no
choice but to assume the worst in both cases.

Evening came- They camped without a fire for fear of
discovery and slept restlessly with one of their number
always on watch. When dawn arrived, the gray light made
the waving tops of the trees stand out against the sky like
shadows thrown by writhing fingers onto a draped sheet.
Aelia looked up at the tree-guarded sky, then back down
upon her sleeping companions.

There had been no disturbance through the night. Now
she had the watch and she stood silently, leaning against
a tree while she pondered whether she should continue
with her earlier strategy. Should she still seek a seaborne
route back to Carea or was it more advisable to stay
inland, away from cities and towns? Unexpected events
made planning difficult. The sight of the King's horsemen
had removed hope of eluding pursuit, and with it, hope
that they could reach a seaport which had not been warned
against their coming.

So she pondered. And as she leaned against her stout
tree trunk thinking, she saw one of the party stir, then sit
up. It was Palamon, the knight of unknown origin. He
did not sit looking about as she woutd have expected of
a man newly awakened, but stood quickly and walked
toward the trees.

"And whither go you, gentle Palamon?" she asked of
his departing back.

He stopped, then turned, looking back at her. "I'll walk
a bit to stretch the muscles out."

"The body's movements call you as before?" The ques-
tion was a mildly barbed one; Aelia remembered Pala-
mon's jaunt of yesterday and his excuse for it,

"Perhaps." He disappeared into the trees, the dark
mass of his mourning cloak fading quickly from view.

This was all a bit odd. With her eye for the niceties of
human nature, Aelia was concerned about the tall knight's
absence two mornings in a row. He had been gone the
day before and the King's horsemen had appeared, even
though only at a distance. She was suspicious. She knew
too little about this man. With a departing glance at the

DENNIS MCCARTY            51

steeping forms of Ursid and Berengeria, she followed
Palamon into the forest.

He could not have gotten far ahead of her, yet he was
hard to find. His pace had been a quick one. She saw no
sign of other humans in this forest and that was important;

her throat became dry even at the thought of finding Pala-
mon in the act of leaving a secret cipher at the foot of
some marked tree. But he was not to be found at all. She
shook her head. Certainly he was a master at concealing
the act of relieving himself, if that was actually what he
was doing.

As she turned back, her eyes swept the crowding trees
one more time. There! She saw it—a glint—the play of
light upon metal in the shadowy distance.

Her suspicions revived, she crept toward the spot,
moving silently, using skills she had not used since she
had been young, playing hide-and-seek on forested Artos.
Her feet left hardly a mark on the leafy ground.

And then he was there. Before her was Palamon, a
PaJamon she had never seen before. The mourning cloak
had been thrown down along with the worn leggings. He
was resplendant in a full suit of chain mail which captured
the brilliance of the rising sun and set it bounding, dazzling
the eye. Seen in full, the greenish gold mail was stuff of
wonderous workmanship and it enclosed his kneeling body
like a second skin, accenting the breadth of his shoulders,
the tapering muscles of his back, the fullness of his hips
and thighs. She had seen such a hauberk before.

He was kneeling. His back was toward her. The big
sword rested pommel upward, against a tree; he knelt
before it in supplication as if the sword itself represented
the great power to which he was praying.

His words floated softly through the morning air. She
could barely make them out and she was not sure she
wanted to. Her fear that he might have betrayed her Prin-
cess had led her to intrude upon some private moment;

she was lanced by the feeling that she had betrayed him,
instead.

He stretched his scarred arms out toward the sword
as he spoke with a reverent intonation. "0 mighty Pallas,

52 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

gray-eyed Maiden dear, give audience to one who calls
thy name. Thy humble servant seeks not wealth or fame,
but only that his prayers thou shall hear. 0 blessed patron,
grant surcease from fear and let they power guide my arm
and aim. I am a simple warrior without claim but that thy
aegis be forever near."

Aelia's hand crept to her lips; she knew why Palamon
was wearing the lustrous chain mail. She knew his secret
even before he had finished the prayer.

"Oh, guide me in my quest to do thy will; bring succor
to all those who cannot speak to thee themselves. With
power this sword fill, that it might bring protection to the
weak. Through this imperfect world I seek thee still. Oh,
grant that 1 might find the things I seek."

The head bowed and the arms relaxed a bit. Uninten-
tionally, Aelia relaxed, too, and a sound escaped her throat.
It was a small sound but Palamon heard it.

He whirled about, the hilt of his deadly sword clenched
between his powerful hands. But he dropped it when he
saw her- He fell sideways as he scrambled to retrieve his
cloak and pull the dark wool over himself like a maiden
surprised during a bath.

His eyes flashed as he looked up at her. She had seen
many things during her life; she had traveled the length
of the Thiassa Mey. But the resentment and anger that
flashed in those dark eyes shocked her to the point that
her stomach tried to wrench itself free of her control. She
nearly gagged. "Forgive me, sir. I swear I did not know."

"You seem to think you must know everything." All
the condemnation that could be produced by one body
was hurled forth in those words as the man before her
flung his cloak about his shoulders.

"To be a Knight of Pallas is no shame; 'tis honor greater
than most men can know. What forces you to hide your
state from us?" The question was an honest one. The
Knights of Pallas was an order bearing immense prestige.
Why had Palamon chosen to hide such an honor from his
companions?

"Do not believe all things your eyes may see. A man
may wear a title he's not earned and words mean nothing;

DENNIS McCARTY               53

words are nought but air." These phrases were little more
than grunts, uttered hurriedly as Palamon laced up his
leggings.

But Aelia had recovered from her shock. There was
more here than met the eye and she leaped onto the scent
of this mystery with all the intensity of the true huntress.
Why did Palamon wish to hide what he was? "A stout
facade you throw up, but for what? You feign the mind
of one who does not care, of one who makes a joke of
everything. And yet, in that one sonnet—that short
prayer—I heard more true devotion than some men may
show in years spent in a temple's halls. 1 ask again, mys-
terious Palamon, why do you hide the honor that you
bear?"

"I make a joke of things? Indeed I do. Does living have
more purpose than a prank?" It was back in place now,
the facade Aelia had spoken of. There was nothing in
Palamon's eyes now but empty mirth. His lips curled at
the corners and there was no sign on his face of the emo-
tions that had been stamped upon it a moment ago.

Aelia also noticed the deft way in which he had turned
her question. "I'll not be led astray," she said. "I've
watched you well. In old Buerdaunt, I heard some tales
that did not rhyme, of one who seemed much larger than
his place, and so I asked him to accompany us. With every
move, you show my judgment's good. And now I see
from where you take your skills, your leadership, sound
judgment, and strong arm- Gray Pallas* Knights, an ancient
order, sir, a holy order of the noblest men. Without slam
are these men and without blot, all chaste and modest;

never woman's bed, nor heavy drink, nor riches do they
know. And yet you carry modesty too far, denying mem-
bership in any sense. To hide your membership in those
exalted ranks—oh, Palamon! Is not that, too, a sin?"

The strength ebbed from the man before her. He sagged
against the tree behind him, the lines of his face making
him look ancient, far older than his four decades. "I'll not
deny what you have said to me. And yet you question
things too near to me by far. My past does not need be

54 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

discussed for me to cany out my duties here. This subject
must be closed, I ask of you."

"But I will still inform my own Princess. For I will
have no secrets standing 'twixt her and all truths."

"That's as you wish. But mention it no more to me,
though you may shout it to the world." Palamon's voice
dripped with bitterness.

It was all very strange to her. The Knights of Pallas
was the most rigorous of the orders of knighthood to be
attained on the shores of the Thiassa Mey. They lived out
a monklike existence within their great, vaulted fastness
on the northern cliffs, riding out to give aid where it was
needed most. Noble youths from across all lands aspired
to those ranks, but few were the ones who attained that
goal. And yet Palamon concealed his honor-—did not even
seem willing to discuss it. Aelia did not press the matter
further, but she resolved not to forget what she had seen.

They were suddenly interrupted. There was a sound
in the trees above them, a thrashing of branches as if a
large bird or a tree cat might have been disturbing the
boughs. Palamon looked up. "Did you hear that?"

"I heard it." Aelia also looked into the branches that
supported a lush green canopy above their heads. She
saw nothing but the leaves that filtered the growing day-
light. Even the usual morning birds were not to be heard.
"I cannot see the source. All's quiet now; perhaps 'twas
just a branch which, cracked with age and eariy spring-
time's rains, has fallen down and drawn our ears to it."

"Perhaps." Palamon's eyes continued to search through
the endless leaves, which became even greener in the
increasing daylight. He stood, still holding his sword in
his right hand. "I do not like this."

'The fact may be that, in your warrior's way, your
nerves assign a life to every sound and seek a hairy owner
for each branch which, with the wind's caressing, rubs
its mate. That may be so—indeed, 'tis likely so. And yet
as I behold your two blue eyes a'darting to and fro as
though to sift the very leaves themselves, I think that we
should do whate'er you will."

"We must return and find the others, then." Palamon

DENNIS MCCARTY                 55

started at a trot up the tree-studded hillside and Aelia
followed him. But they had gone only a short way when
a throttled cry assailed their ears. Aelia felt the color wash
from her cheeks like cheap dye from a coarse garment as
Palamon sprinted ahead of her, his cloak opening out
behind him like woolen wings. Were King Lothar's cav-
alrymen upon them? She drew her dagger and followed.
Her breath became heavy with the effort of her dash but
was almost forced from her body by the sight which con-
fronted her.

Their four fine horses had been driven off; the animals
thundered away, showing only their tails and their broad
backsides as they galloped through the trees. But there
was worse. Berengeria and Ursid had been dragged from
their blankets and now were struggling against two hooded,
white-robed assailants. These strange figures were not
marked by the uniforms of King Lothar's men but their
intent was no less deadly. Already, one of them had thrown
struggling Berengeria onto his jet stallion and was swing-
ing up into the saddle behind her. Turning, he saw Pala-
mon- With his free hand, he drew his sword and aimed a
blow at the neck of the Knight of Pallas.

Chapter Seven:

Riders in White

PALAMON WAS READY for the blow from the pale-robed
rider. He pivoted to let the sword's blade glance off his
mail-bound shoulder; the weapon sliced a great strip from
his cloak as it traveled the length of his back. But as he
returned the blow with his own sword, the remnants of
the cloak bunched about his arms and he had to pause
long enough to shrug himself free of its folds.

The rider's hooded eyes froze upon Palamon's lustrous
chain mail; the man hesitated as he stared at it. "A tall
Knight of Pallas, Navron. Why did Alyubol never make
mention of this?"

Many things happened during this pause; Berengeria
took advantage of her captor's distraction and struggled
from his grasp, dropping heavily to the ground minus a
handful of amber hair. Palamon writhed free of his own
cloak and aimed a mighty blow at the chest of his adver-
sary. And in leaning to escape the blow, the hooded man
lost his balance and fell screaming from the saddle, with
one foot still tangled in a stirrup.

56

DENNIS MCCARTY

57

By this time, Aelia had reached the scene of the strug-
gle; in fact Palamon's opponent hung directly before her.
There was no time for thought. With a gasp, she buried
the blade of her drawn dagger in his chest.

She was half-sickened by the blood that fountained
forth. The thin lips of her victim drew back in a grimace
and there was a rattling from the throat; he was finished.
The horse trotted away a few steps and stood, its rider
still dangling from the stirrup.

Aelia looked up to see that the fight about her was
over. The other rider was in flight, his horse's hooves
thudding dully between the trunks of the trees. Ursid was
struggling to his feet, nursing a place on his forehead
which was already beginning to swell. "Now by the gods,
what manner of men were those?"

Berengeria was also standing now, blood trickling from
her scalp where the hair had been torn out. She touched
-the wound with one hand, wrinkling her face at the pain.
"I fear the worst. My Lady, did you hear?" Her voice
was little more than a whisper.

"The name, you mean? The name of Alyubol?" Aelia
nodded quietly. Her stomach was still twisting inside her,
both from the sight of the man she had killed and from
her knowledge of that other player who had joined the
game. "And 'twas his henchman Navron who decamped."

Palamon gazed in the direction taken by their four
horses. "They may have failed to snatch our good Princess
but still they've done much harm, these men ofAlyubol-
We now must go afoot; our horses flee."

"Can they be caught?" Ursid ran a little way into the
trees but quickly returned, his face downcast. "There is
no hope. Their panic takes them far."

Palamon walked toward the black horse which stood
a few cubits away with the fallen rider still hanging from
his stirrup- Reaching the animal, he used the tip of his
sword to pry free the entangled foot; the body dropped
to the dark earth with a thud, the air sighing from the
dead lungs.

"Two pale-robed emissaries riding here, directed by
the will of Alyubol. The selfsame Alyubol you spoke of

58 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

once, the one who was your father's enemy?" Palamon
knelt beside the body but his words were directed toward
Berengeria.

Berengeria nodded grimly. Her face drooped. She still
held her slender fingers to her torn scalp.

Palamon paused to look up at her, then his face grew
long and he rose as he noted her wound. "You have been
hurt. I had not noticed that." He approached her, removed
her hand from the crown of her head. It was an ugly mark
and the blood flowed freely, irrigating the silky locks that
surrounded it.

"A small wound, by my troth,"' she said. "Far better
than the fate that was ordained when I was taken up by
his foul hands." She jerked her head at the fallen rider
and winced as Palamon examined her, picking bits of dirt
out of her scalp.

He patted her on the shoulder and stepped back. "A
tearing such as that may well cause strife, although the
damage done at first is small. But thickly wooded forests
such as this can often give us remedies for such infectious
hurts." He rubbed his chin as he gazed between the knot-
ted tree trunks. "One moment's all I'll need until we know."
Walking away from the others, he reached a particularly
shady place, bent, and plucked something from the lush
undergrowth. While his companions watched, he returned
with several broad leaves, dull green, thick, and fan shaped.

Aelia and Berengeria both looked at them. "And those
will help?" Aelia asked doubtfully.

"Perhaps they will." He returned to Berengeria's side,
folding one of the leaves and squeezing the juice into the
wound. "These akos leaves, 'tis said, can help protect
such rough, raw, open wounds."

Palamon could tell the fluids he was squeezing into the
wound were bringing pain; he could feel Berengeria's
breath on his throat as she gasped quietly. He regretted
that. In a moment, having done with one leaf, he placed
a second in his mouth, chewing it to make a poultice.
"Now I must place this paste out of my mouth onto the
open flesh, but do not fear. It does not smart, as does the
sap itself." He glanced at Aelia, who was watching with-

DENNIS MCCARTY

59

out comment. Then he smiled a wry smile. "But do not
think me too impertinent. They say the spittle of the lowly
dog can help to heal the very deepest cuts. No dogs have
we, so I must fill that role."

Berengeria seemed reassured by Palamon's banter.
Ursid also watched, fascinated. "Where did you learn
these healing arts?"

"It does not matter." Palamon kneaded the chewed
mass into place.

Ursid said no more but he still watched Palamon silently
as the tall knight completed the ministration.

"Now, does it still hurt?" Palamon gave the poultice a
final pat, then stepped back. Touching Berengeria had
produced an inner tension which decreased some as he
moved away from her buxom form. As he had noticed
before, there was something about her he could not fully
comprehend. When he had been touching her. he had
again felt fate tugging at her, as if those forces were form-
ing a field between the two of them. Fate and young
women did not bode well; he knew that. It was all very
disconcerting-

Berengeria looked up at him with a bemused smUe. "It
feels much better. Thank you, Palamon."

Abruptly, Palamon turned from her. "Now back to
business." He handed the remaining leaves to Aelia.
Walking back to Alyubol's slain minion, he grasped the
handle of Aelia's dagger, which still protruded from the
robes of the fallen rider. With a little effort, he wrenched
it from the wound. There was a last blurting of gore from
the man's chest and Palamon's mouth twisted in disgust
as he wiped the blade clean on the coarsely woven white
cloth. He handed the weapon up to its owner. "Then
Alyubol is our opponent now, perhaps more so than Lothar
and his men."

"How could he find us here?" Berengeria asked.

"Would that we knew." Palamon shifted to the fallen
man's head and drew away the hood. The face beneath
was sinister; the lips were thin, the nose was pinched and
hooked, and the fine line of a closely trimmed black mous-
tache accented the narrow upper lip. The skin was white

60 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

as a midnight moon. It was paler than ever, now that the
body encased within was dead; it was as pale as a fish
floating in a slough. It caused Palamon himself to blanch.
He looked up at the others. "One thing is sure: we must
be on our way." He rose, then gazed at the dead man's
mount. "We must attempt to minimize our loss. Perhaps
this horse should help to bear the load- Some goods and
one light rider it could bear, to speed us on our journey
by that much."

"'Tis said, 'tis done, 0 Pallas* noble Knight." Ursid
leaped forward to catch the animal by its reins and began
rearranging its saddle and pack. He stopped when he saw
the glare in Palamon's eyes. "What did 1, Lord? I said
just what I heard and what's already shown by your own
armor, not to mention all your skill in nature's healing
balms."

Palamon looked down at himself. Only now did he
seem to notice that he had thrown off his gray cloak in
the heat of the fight against Alyubol's men. He looked at
the other members of the party. All of them were gazing
at him with expectant eyes; each face showed a different
emotion. Aelia appeared to be observing, waiting; Ursid
bore the look of a scolded schoolboy; Berengeria simply
watched the exchange, her fingertips touching the packing
Palamon had applied to her scalp a moment ago. Palamon
looked back at them one by one; then a wry expression
again crawled across his features.

A noise in the branches above them interrupted. As
one, they looked up to see a dark green shape flash from
view. "What was that?" Berengeria asked.

Palamon stared upward as he spoke. "It makes no dif-
ference what thing it might be. We must be on our guard
in any case, though it be Alyubol's foul thing or Lothar's
creature or a fiend that owes its loyalty to both or neither
one. But though it's just a bird or our next foe, I'll keep
my sword upraised where e'er I go." He touched the
pommel of his weapon, the molded section with the strange
piece of horn set into it, then leaned down to retrieve his
cloak. "And this is good material, withal. I'll wear it though

DENNIS MCCARTY            61

it's slashed along the back and mend it when the time and
place allow."

Once again he wrapped himself in the cloak, though
the links of his hauberk still glinted through the huge tear
in the back. No one said a word until he himself broke
the silence once more, to speak to Ursid- "Remember
this, my youthful champion: a robe of lion skin fits quite
as well about the shoulders of a craven cad as any noble
warrior's stout form. When every man is judged just by
his clothes, then kings and warriors alike will fall while
low apprentice tailors conquer all." He walked to the
bedrolls and packs and drew their longbows forth. "We
may have cause to use these as we go."

Though they rushed through the process of burying the
stranger and packing their gear onto the horse, much time
passed before Aelia escorted Berengeria to the animal and
watched as the young women placed one foot in the stir-
rup.

But to Aelia's surprise, Palamon stopped them. "My
Lady, though it goes against the norm, 'tis best you ride
upon this borrowed steed and let the good Princess remain
aground with us."

Aelia was displeased. "What right have you. Sir Knight,
to alter rank; to make princesses walk while servants
ride?"

Palamon smiled. In fact his expression was more of a
smirk than a smile, as if he were enjoying some private
joke. "The right that's given by necessity. The fair Prin-
cess is young, a tall, strong maid, and she can cover
ground much faster than your aged, though still comely,
ankles can." He winked at her.

Aelia began to respond to the barbed refusal but
Berengeria interrupted her. "And methinks there is wis-
dom in these words. Now, Aelia, come, climb up onto
this steed and if your conscience frets you, bear in mind
this animal belonged to Alyubol. Perhaps your riding it
instead of me protects my royal body from some harm."

Aelia said no more. She allowed Ursid to help her into
the saddle, where she sat uncomfortably, her mouth turned
in distaste. With their eyes directed into the leafy canopy

62 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

over their heads, the fugitives began their journey once
more.

Although it was not without beauty, this forest had
become exceedingly dense; the leafy branches of the trees
spread above them without opening or end. But the ver-
dant covering should have echoed with the chattering of
birds and small animals. They heard nothing. Nor did they
see any more of the dark shape they had seen in the
morning. Palamon remained ready, holding his longbow
with a keen arrow ready to nock at any sign of danger.
The creature they had seen was large; there was no doubt
of that. And since they were almost without horses, any-
thing larger than a squirrel was a threat now.

Still, the day passed without event. In the afternoon,
Ursid proved his prowess with his longbow, slaying with
one shot a dwarf deer which sprang up at their approach.
It was an animal of singular beauty. Its antlers had only
begun to sprout tines for the new season; its skin was soft
and smoothly covered instead of bristly in the manner of
most deer hides.

They stopped while it was still light and cooked Ursid's
kill- But as dusk came, Palamon bid them douse the blaze.
'There's something in this forest we know not. A fire will
dull the senses, blind the eyes, and make the task of
watching through the night most difficult for us—but not
for those who watch us, if there be such in these woods.
Now we have supped till full, so kill this flame and let us
post a double watch tonight,"

Berengeria looked up at him. "A double watch? You
fear the worst, I see."

'These woods seem full of visitors. Princess. If one
should come to call on us unsought, it would not do to
have that courtesy go unobserved by all of us save one."

"Then you still fear the work of Alyubol?"

Palamon shrugged. "I know of Alyubol by name, no
more. But I know this: we fought two men this mom. We
saw King Lothar's soldiers yesterday. We knew the hounds
bayed hot upon our heels, but knew not till today there
were two packs."

"I must agree," Aelia said. "But how do they pursue

DENNIS McCARTY               63

so closely? If some great, all-seeing eye spied down on
us, relaying all our acts to Lothar's ear, his men could
not more quickly have appeared or trailed us with more
ease than they have done."

"I don't agree." Palamon's face became serious for the
moment. "Though Lothar's men came close, they did not
seem to have the scent itself. We met a troop of pallid
Lothar's guards beside the ford—the river crossing. That's
their post. We watched another unit of the Buerdic guard
go riding on a hillside, far, far off."

Palamon looked at Aelia and Berengeria. Their eyes
showed agreement even before he had finished his anal-
ysis. "But those two riders who named Alyubol came
down upon us at the break of dawn, set free our horses,
drove them all away, and came close to capturing our fair
Princess. By my eyes, these are foemen to be feared."

"Therefore, you see the hand of Alyubol." Berengeria
nodded her head, her amber locks falling across the man-
tle of her robe. "My mind proceeds along your lines. Sir
Knight."

"But if he traces out our path of flight, his powers must
be mystical indeed." Aelia's face was covered with con-
cern, even more than Palamon had already seen there.

"Then tell me, fair Princess," Palamon said, "Walk
down the hallways of your memory. Do you remember
anything of him, this Alyubol, some facts or recollections
which might help us understand our foe and turn his strat-
egies?

"Perhaps my memory would better serve," Aelia said.
"This maid was just a tiny babe, no more, when she was
sent from fair Carea's court to spend her childhood days
in Artos' woods."

'Then spill your wisdom forth and let me lap it up, as
would some scullery's gaunt cat if he could, with great
fortune, come upon a broken milkmaid's bucket all alone."

Aelia glanced at Palamon without smiling, then began
her story. "When I was just a girl, I met a priest who once
had known this wicked Alyubol. it was long years ago,
before the rise of good King Berevald, the father of our
dear Princess.

64 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

'This priest, my friend, had studied in the halls of
Upper Carea's great library and long had come to rec-
ognize this man who stood so high in Berevald's esteem.
He was a young man then. His coal black hair and close-
set, blazing eyes had such effect this priest could ne'er
forget them all his life. He noticed, on occasion, Alyubol
would search the building's archives for some scroll as
some possessed, two-legged terrier would dig ground for
a rat or for a mole.

"And once his prize was found, though it would be all
caked in dust or writ in unknown tongues, this Alyubol
would tuck it in his robe and hurry fast away. Sometimes
he brought the borrowed document back to the great
library, sometimes not. He was not disciplined. He had,
you see, the favor of the Prince.

"This happened, as I said, long years ago, before the
falling out of Alyubol with Berevald and all the children's
loss. But though his memories preceded all these things,
this priest declared their coming shocked him not. For he
had seen the madness. Long it lurked behind the flashing
eyes of Alyubol before it brought such sorrow to the land.
It was miscalculation without end for Berevald to place
the slightest trust in such an unsound man, however deft
he was in unknown sciences and crafts." Her eyes flicked
toward Berengeria. "My dear Princess, I mean no dis-
respect. I just repeat the story I was told."

Berengeria's voice was subdued. "My father is a good
man, I know that. It was an error, as you say it was, to
place his slightest trust in Alyubol, to raise him up in rank
and give him place. To make of him an influential lord
was folly in the most extreme degree. It also granted
Alyubol e'en more—the opportunity to gather up the
information and material, as well as cohorts and accom-
plices, to do that host of deeds most terrible for which he
has been blamed. Be that the case, my father paid for his
misplaced regard. He paid with all his slaughtered prog-
eny, as well as with a land that groans beneath the blight
of Alyubol. Methinks it price enough."

There was silence. Ursid placed his hand upon
Berengeria's shoulder; his eyes were full of sympathy. It

DENNIS MCCARTY               65

was plain to see the discussion had distressed her. Although
she continued to smile with her mouth, that humor was
not reflected in her manner. She placed her hand over
Ursid's, but she seemed to derive little comfort from his
gesture. "I stand alone," she said. "I am my father's sole
remaining heir. I shall return to storm-bound Carea and
help her raise herself from her nadir; this thing I vow,
though it be on my life."

Again Palamon was struck by the resolve within the
maiden. "Oh, my Princess, I have not mystic eyes to scry
the riddles that your future holds, but methinks you will
do the things you say. If Alyubol and Lothar are as awed
as I am by your royal countenance and bearing, they will
not dare say you nay."

"This vow made by our good Princess is brave," Ursid
said. "It shows a soul as good and heart as strong as any
knight's. To ridicule her words as you do now, brave
Palamon, belittles both those words and you, as well."

For the merest fraction of an instant, Palamon appeared
surprised at the severity of Ursid's words. Then he smiled
and replied- "You must mistake my meaning. My respect
for all who form this party knows no bounds, the most
of all for this, our young Princess. But we need sleep.
The stoutest heart will fail in its resolve without the body's
aid. And I, not of stout heart, must still maintain that
sleep comes best if we post double guard."

And so it was done. The four fugitives allowed the fire
to burn down and the darkness gathered in on them as
they sat. Eyelids soon grew heavy. Berengeria herself
asked to stand the first watch; she felt no desire for sleep;

her mind had not yet digested the portents of the day's
events,

Palamon also watched. He sat comfortable, his back
resting against a boulder as he stared into the darkness.
Berengeria found herself watching him as he sat that way
in the dim tight of the dying blaze. He maintained his
watch like a statue; his face was impassive, his breath
came in a series of steady draughts, and his head hardly
moved as his eyes bored into the night. Only occasionally

66 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

did he turn his head to look in a different direction. But
he never met her gaze.

Time crept by. The darkness became nearly complete.
Still, they sat silently opposite one another, waiting for
the movement of the stars to mark the time when they
could wake their companions.

After a long while, Berengeria spoke. "You make a
steadfast sentry, Palamon," she said. "How many nights,
I wonder, have you passed encamped with Knights of
Pallas on some quest?"

His eyes flicked toward her as she spoke, then he looked
away once more. "So many nights lie in my past. Princess,
that I could hardly concentrate on one."

"Or will not." She watched him the way she had seen
Aelia watch people. He was hard to see in the darkness.

He smiled but he did not reply.

"I've noticed how you donjon up your past," she said.
"My curiosity cannot but be aroused by all the things of
which you will not speak."

"My past is mine," he replied. "It is of no import.
Therefore, 1 do not choose to spew it up."

"It makes you all you are."

"And is that good?"

"I do not know." She was somewhat taken aback by
his quick replies. "You taunt me, Palamon."

"You taunt yourself. Princess," he said. "I did not
choose the subject of this conversation."

"Yes, that is so." She frowned. This tall knight did,
after all, have the right to the privacy of his own past.
But what was there about his past that required privacy?
It would have pleased her to know more of the forge in
which he had been produced. He was no ordinary warrior,
whatever his past might have been. "You are a far cry
from our own Ursid. who helped us to escape from Lothar's
keep."

"I wish I had his youth."

"You wear age well."

"I would that there were less of it to wear."

His response made her smile. There was a pause as
she looked in his direction in the darkness. She wished

DENNIS MCCARTY

67

she could see him better—beneath this star-speckled sky,
he was little more than a shapeless shadow in front of
her.

"You are aware," he said, "this gallant young Ursid
loves you quite deeply?"

Unlike his last statement, this one did not cause her
to smile. This time it was she who glanced away into the
darkness. "Yes."

"And he has cast himself from favor, aiding your
escape?"

"Yes," She formed the word with difficulty.

"Do you, in any part, reciprocate this love he bears
for you?" Palamon spoke with the tone of one who was
making the simplest query in the world. The same tone
of voice could have been used to inquire about the weather
or some masque held the week before.

A long pause followed that question. No answer came
until Berengeria said, "I like him very much. His heart is
good." There was a kind of reluctant tone to her words;

it was obviously not easy for her to frame even this enig-
matic answer.

"Some subjects lie too near the heart by far to be bled
out by idle chatter," Palamon said. "Please forgive me,
good Princess. I'll ask no more."

Berengeria gazed at the dark, damp ground at her feet.
"I see your meaning,"

"Then shall we declare a truce?"

She nodded, though she doubted he could see the ges-
ture in the darkness left by the extinguished fire. Then
she sighed. "Ursid does make a fair, courageous knight.
I like him well—but sometimes what we do is forced upon
us by necessity."

"Indeed," he said- "The altar of necessity is quite a
brutal one. Each one of us must sacrifice upon it, now
and then. But still, Ursid's conditions for my own I would
exchange."

Berengeria looked up at the tall knight, almost hidden
from her by the darkness. There was a real note of longing
in his words. "I doubt you mean that."

"You're quite correct. I mean it not at all." His tone

68

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

was light again, somewhat flippant. The wistful note she
had detected for that instant was gone." Trust not the
words of knights, my good Princess. Too many maidens
learn, to their dismay, some knights ride more by darkness
than by day."

Chapter Eight:

Green as Caterpillars

IT WAS MORNING in the forest. The adventurers sat
huddled together in the predawn chill, finishing off the
deer killed by Ursid the day before. There was little speech.
Hardly a sound of any kind was to be heard, in fact.

There was dew everywhere. It dripped from the silent
trees and their only horse shook showers of it from the
tussocks of grass he was ripping up. His hearty breathing
and the sound of each mouthful of turf he tore from the
floor of the clearing were all they could hear.

When they started out again, Palamon held his longbow
ready, searching the branches with each step. There! There
in the fog twenty cubits ahead of them. "What was that?"
Palamon's eyes attempted to burn holes through the thick
vapors.

"My eyes find nothing in this cursed fog. What was it
that you saw, 0 Palamon?" Ursid also stopped.

"The eyes are clumsy servants, that is true. But I still
think I spied a small, two-legged form. It's gone, now."

"Which way should we pursue? Perhaps a lucky shot

69

70

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

might bring it down." Ursid's voice became urgent in the
damp air.

"It's folly to go hunting at my words. Perhaps I see
things just to lead you on." Palamon gave Ursid a wry
smile as he spoke. "My vision is not error free, Ursid. I
make mistakes. Still, we must keep a watch."

Ursid gazed at the older knight a moment, then began
walking once more. They did not see anything more of
the little figure Palamon saw, or thought he saw. By noon,
the sun had burned the fog away. They paused to drink
at a watercourse that tumbled toward the southwest, then
turned and followed it, for the terrain was rough and hilly.

More than once, Palamon noticed the furtive glances
directed at him by Ursid- They made him feel ill-at-ease,
then uncomfortable; finally he spoke to the younger man
about it. "You might be wiser to direct your eyes at dan-
gers to your own Princess, my lad. You cannot spy them
gazing just at me."

Ursid bridled at being chided this way; his manner was
defensive. "I cannot help it. Palamon, your cloak reveals
some things in you—though you still try to hide them
from us—1 cannot explain. I cannot help but wonder..."

"Wonder, then. You all have wondered at me till my
ears rebel to hear it spoken of again. If my old hauberk
so excites all folk, perhaps I ought to bury it. Have done.
But wonder not when you should cross the path of some
foul viper which, with wondrous scales, can trick your
eyes from seeing foul intent. I've said it oft; this mail
means nothing." Palamon's Ups curied as he spit out the
last word. "Nothing."

"But all the same..." Ursid was interrupted again as
a section of rude vine netting fell over him. He struggled
frantically against its entangling folds. "By heaven, what
is this?'*

Palamon caught his breath and his eyes swept the
branches from which the netting had dropped. There was
nothing to be seen. The thick foliage concealed any pos-
sible target from his longbow, so he dropped that weapon
and his hands flew to the back of his neck, releasing the
clasp that secured his sword. But it was only halfway out

DENNIS McCARTY

71

of its hanger when he himself was struck by another sec-
tion of netting, the weight of which forced him nearly to
his knees. His stout blade glinted above his head as he
slashed his way free.

But he had no time to free Ursid; more nets were
falling. The strong netting was made from plant fibers
woven together, then tied into squares like the nets used
by the fishermen across the Thiassa Mey. The nets fell
from the leaf draped branches as though conjured. Aelia
was caught by one; her horse reared and ran. The netting
about her caught on a branch and she was dragged from
her mount to dangle, helpless as a fresh catch of fish.

Berengeria was borne to the ground. So was Ursid.
Now only Palamon was left standing, the severed remains
of two of the mysterious nets lying at his feet. Then,
dropping from the branches some twenty cubits away,
their antagonists appeared: these were small and apelike
and the thick hair that covered all their exposed parts was
green. They were green as caterpillars.

The creatures stared at him, shouting to one another.
Their accent was so strange they were barely understand-
able but there was no mistaking their intentions- They
approached cautiously, waving clubs, spears, and all kinds
of rude weapons. He heard a sound behind him. More of
the creatures had dropped from branches and were
approaching him from that direction.

The situation was hopeless. The little green apemen
attacked from everywhere with the wile and confidence
that came from long experience at the hunt. One of them
let fly at Palamon's head with a club and he ducked, only
to feel a hairy body hurl itself against his legs. More assail-
ants rushed him and he slashed out once with his sword,
the long blade glinting fiercely. But he was unable to free
his ankles; he felt himself losing his balance. The little
men were all over him now. Hard, bony fingers clutched
at him. One of the creatures struck his head with a stone
and the blow made him groggy, even as he caught the
thing in its leathery face with one elbow. A knotted club
struck him, then another stone. And another. He could

72 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

no longer keep track of what was happening to him or
even where he was. His world was blanketed by darkness.

A great deal of time passed; at least it seemed that way.
Palamon's skull was full of visions; a multitude of tiny,
hairy creatures leaped and shouted and leered at him out
of the darkness. His body was bounding up and down as
if he were being tossed into the air in a blanket. It was
an odd feeling- It was almost like being on the deck of a
vessel in a storm with the mighty, black-and-white waves
tossing the ship about helplessly. He was rocking back
and forth, rocking, rocking.

Many things passed through his mind—the old days
of training with swords and lance in the inner bailey of
the Fastness of Pallas and the nights spent pondering a
carved piece of horn with the word "blood" inscribed
upon it; he went on quests, riding his broad courser into
the northlands; he took ship to right wrongs in the pirate-
infested streets of Touros; he won honor and glory.

But the visions soured. Something had happened to
ruin everything, to turn the respect into loathing and the
honor and glory into shame. He bumed with the shame.
What had happened? Where was he and what had brought
this foulness into his life? He was being spat upon by his
peers and he could not remember why. It was there. The
memory was there, if only he could grasp it. Then he did
grasp the memory; he remembered everything and the
bitterness washed over him, drowning him in a caustic
comber of putrid memories; it was worse by far than the
blackness and confusion that had enveloped him earlier.

His eyes opened. It was still daylight. His body rang
with stiffness and he was wadded up tike old paper in one
of the fiber nets of the apemen who had attacked earlier.
He was dangling from a tree now, along with the other
members of the party. That was better. At least he knew
where he was.

He turned his head to look about. This was difficult;

his chin was forced against his chest by the curve of the
net and he winced as he twisted his neck. He could see
the others, however. They had been netted and hung up
the same as he had. They were all hanging from the limbs

DENNIS McCARTY                73

of broad trees that spread overhead like the ceiling of a
great, green cathedral- This part of the forest was even
thicker and older than the area where they had been cap-
tured; the trees were taller and the branches were great,
knotty things that clutched vast fans of leaves the way
sinuous hands would have grasped fistfuls of plumage.

Berengeria was gazing back at him, her face puffy and
red. "Alas, Sir Palamon. You fought so well but now you
hang on high, as do we all."

"How now. Princess? Where are we? How far have
we come?"

'These creatures carried us at least a league, as hunters
carry bags of fresh-caught game. I don't know where we
are."

"We traveled south from where they captured us." This
last voice came from Palamon's other side and it belonged
to Aelia.

Palamon strained again as he rotated his painfully curved
neck to look in her direction. He could also see Ursid
hanging from the next tree. "Our captors. Lady. Whereto
have they gone?"

"I do not know. They marched into the trees. They
numbered many, swarming like green bees."

"Ursid; does he still live?"

Aelia shifted within her net, making the leaves above
her rustle. She gazed at the younger knight, then twisted
back until she again faced Palamon, "I think he lives. His
body sways with life-supporting breath, although he makes
no sound."

"Good." Palamon twisted, trying to roust the stiffness
that cried out from every joint. He could not do it, so he
hung quietly once more. He wondered where their captors
had disappeared to.

As if to answer his unspoken question, a rustling in
the brush beyond Ursid*s dangling net betrayed the
approach of two pairs of feet. By craning his neck about,
Palamon was able to study the creatures as they
approached. They were slender and wiry, like children
grown from the tough bark of these trees. And although
their steps were light and quick enough, they were bent

74       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

as an old man would have been bent from the weight of
the years upon him—or as a young man would have been
bent by hanging head downward in a net. Bent as they
were, it was difficult for Palamon to see their faces,

They walked toward him, glancing at Ursid and Aelia
as they passed the first two nets. The two were talking
to one another but it was hard to understand them. Reach-
ing Palamon's net, one of them poked at the tall knight
with a small walking staff and gazed at him silently for a
moment. Palamon could see the fellow's face now; it was
an interesting sight.

The skin of the face was light and leathery; it was a
green face that was wrinkled as if every morning the crea-
ture had ever seen had left its own tiny fissure etched into
the flesh of his cheek or brow. The eyes were dark, with
a quick gleam that belied the look of age stamped across
the rest of the body. Once again the creature poked at
Palamon with the staff, pausing between pokes to adjust
his breechclout.

"How now, old man- Am I some bag of meat, that you
must tenderize me with your stick?"

The two bent creatures glanced at one another and the
one with the staff jabbed upward once more. Palamon did
not speak this time. Again they looked at each other before
one of them spoke. "You are a mighty fighter, tall one,
but we have you now."

They turned toward Aelia, the thick green hair on their
arms and legs rustling as they moved, their leather breech-
clouts rocking as they stepped forward upon their bandy
legs. They stopped and studied her, speaking in low tones.
Then they walked away. At least they did not prod her
with the staff.

After they had gone, Ursid stirred and looked about.
"What were those things? Have any of you looked on
such a people as those creatures? By the gods themselves,
they're not a favored race, to judge by gait and face."

Palamon looked at Ursid and at Aelia. " 'Tis well, young
knight, that you are with us now. A happy crew we are
and topsy-turvy we must meet our fate, though such be

DENNIS MCCARTY

75

at the hands of this 'unfavored race,' as you may term
them,"

There was movement in the net on the other side of
Palamon and he turned to look at Berengeria. "They fear
you, Palamon," she said. "That much I know. They fear
you and they don't know what to do with all of us, now
that they have us here."

"Then there is hope they don't know who we are."
Ursid said.

"Their words would indicate that was the case," Aelia
said. "'Tis sure, if they were linked with Lothar's men,
they'd know what prizes hung within their grasp."

"Yes, that is so." Ursid sounded disappointed.

Berengeria joined the conversation then; there was a
desperate note of hope in her voice- "Then should we
speak with them when they come back? Perhaps a bargain
might be struck with them—some price or favor offered
in return for our four freedoms.'*

"Not yet, not yet." Palamon's answer was quick.
"Although it's true they may not be allied with enemies,
they still are not our friends. Our silence must be kept
until we know a bit more of their minds. For oft 'tis said,
'an army of regrets, by one word led-'"

No sooner did this caution leave Palamon's lips than
the creatures returned, followed by two of their fellows.
And there was movement in the branches above the heads
of the four captives; the leaves shook and danced and the
smaller limbs swayed as if an army of apes might have
been passing overhead. But though eight human eyes sifted
the foliage, hardly a single body was to be seen.

The four creatures stood looking up at their prizes,
conversing in low tones. One of them shook his head.
Another spoke back with a rising voice, gesturing with
his knotty stick at Palamon. "Four are too many. The
wisdom of four is greater than the wisdom of one, or even
two. At least he should wait to go alone."

The one addressed shook his head again. "That is not
in the law." The four of them moved closer to the pris-
oners. The one that had done the head shaking appeared
to be a figure of authority, even though they were all

76 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

dressed in the same type of leather garments; the others
followed where he walked and attended whenever he
spoke -

Indeed, so strange were the patterns and rhythms of
their speech that Palamon had to concentrate to compre-
hend them at all. But then the leader issued an order which
was easy to understand. "Come down, come down, my
brothers of the trees. These tall ones are in our hands;

their weapons have been made dull by our nets. It is time
for their trial to begin."

He made a sweeping gesture with both hands and the
thick canopy above their heads began to seethe with
movement. The branches emptied. Hairy green bodies
dropped from the foliage as chestnuts drop in a late autumn
storm. There were dozens of the green beings; they stood
looking up at the nets that hung heavy with their captives.

Had the leader spoken of a trial? While the prisoners
were pondering that, another command was issued. Sev-
eral of the creatures crept like spiders onto the limbs that
supported the four nets. The rope connected to Palamon's
net was severed and he felt himself falling, only to rebound
upward on a sea of rough hands. It was an odd feeling.
The handling was not unpleasant as he was borne along,
passed from hands to hands toward the center of a large
clearing.

He glimpsed many things—endless rows of trees and
underbrush, the leafy canopy passing overhead, then a
cloud-smeared sky as he was carried into the clearing
itself. He could hear the pop of cordage and the rebound
of branches as his companions were also cut down. Then
he heard Aelia's voice. "How dare you people do this
thing to us who only seek to pass these lands in peace?
We have no quarrel here. Please set us free."

The procession stopped. There was silence at first.
then one of the creatures spoke. "You have trespassed
onto the lands of the Korred wudlings, the brotherhood
of the branches." The one who said this was the same
individual Palamon had identified as the leader. All move-
ment, human and wudling, paused and all ears listened
to that voice, which was harsh with age. "For days we

DENNIS McCARTY

77

have watched yeu penetrate into our hills. You have fought
your own kind m our lands and you have killed our game.
Now it is time for you to be dealt with."

"We meant no harm," Aelia said. "We only wish to
leave."

"Down the ages since the first waves rolled across the
Thiassa Mey, you tall ones have followed the wudling
people. Never have you meant us harm, yet always we
have died. Once we were plentiful. We spread across the
land from the Outer Islands to the southern snowfields,
The land was ours but we were always forced to yield to
your advances. With your broad weapons you drove us
back until finally, long ago, tall men took the last of the
lands where we once had lived and forced us into this
comer of the wilderness. Our wise ones have set these
things down so that we might remember them."

Palamon tried to reply, but he was stopped by those
who held him; hairy hands clamped his mouth; his hair
was pulled, and he was punched and pummeled. The
wudlings' leader continued. "We have learned the lessons
of past ages; where a few tall ones come, many will follow.
None who enter these hills may pass forth again, for they
will bring others as surety as flies bring maggots. You
have only one hope. You must survive your trial-1, Parso,
have spoken."

"Wait. Do not paint us with the selfsame brush with
which you tar our enemies." Aelia's protest was choked
off.

/      The procession started up again. Then all at once Pala-
mon was dumped onto the ground. He winced and his

^   stiff muscles shrieked with the impact; still, he managed

^   to turn his head enough to watch Ursid, Berengeria, and
Aelia as they were deposited next to him. They were
surrounded by their captors. Everywhere there were small,
angular bodies. Unsteadily, his muscles barely obeying
his will, Palamon rose from his open net. Many of the
wudtings shrank back from him, while others raised clubs,

•f   spears, and slings. He looked down at the one called
Parso. "Just set us free and you will not be harmed. We
only wish to journey from this place."

78

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Parso pointed a finger at Palamon. "You are a powerful
warrior, tail man. No five of us can stand against you.
But if you or any of your people move to escape before
your time, or try to harm any hair on any one of us, you
will die like a wolf in a pit." With a final wave of his arm
the leader ended the conversation. Several armed wudlings
surrounded the captives. Then. as if at a signal, the crowd
behind them parted and they turned to see the place to
which they had been brought.

They were in a clearing. At the center of the clearing,
rising from the rich earth like a tower, stood a huge tree.
It was different from—and far taller than—any of the
other trees in this forest. It soared toward the heavens,
its upper reaches obscured by its lowest branches, its full
grandeur hidden from all save the birds and the sun above.
But those unseen heights did not hold Palamon's atten-
tion; his eyes were drawn to the base of the great plant.

The tree did not stand with its roots buried far beneath
the floor of the glade, but rather upon a huge pedestal
formed by those roots. They radiated out from the bottom
of the trunk, forming a large, bell-shaped chamber sur-
rounded by sinuous stems. It was a spectacular sight—
but for what purpose they had been brought here, Pala-
mon was only beginning to understand.

The wudlings all became silent. A singsong chant drew
Palamon's eyes back to the leader of these strange people;

Parso had closed his eyes tightly, and his leathery fingers
were extended toward the tree itself. Palamon sensed what
was about to happen; his eyes traveled back to the great
tree with fascinated horror. Already, the fibrous roots
were beginning to pulsate with new life. They moved and
undulated like wooden serpents. Then, even as he watched,
they bent and stretched, and an opening large enough to
admit a body appeared in the wall of roots nearest the
captives.

Before he could react, Palamon found himself set upon
by dozens of wudlings. He was kicked and rolled through
the opening and into the space formed within the tree's
roots, followed quickly by the others. Last came Aelia,
shoved through the opening while still protesting to the

DENNIS McCARTY

79

wudling who was conducting this bizarre ceremony. Then,
more suddenly than it had appeared, the opening snapped
shut.

Most of the wudlings lingered for a moment to stare
at the captives, and the leader approached and looked
disdainfully in upon them, "This is your prison, tall ones.
You will stay here until the time you come out. If you
ever do." He turned to depart and the others of his kind
trickled after him. After awhile the captives found them-
selves alone again, imprisoned within the base of a tree,
of all places.

Aelia looked at Palamon, the lines in her face etched
deep with concern. "They fear us and they fear you, Pala-
mon. They seal us here because they fear us all,"

Palamon smiled grimly. "And we must find a way to
leave this cage." He stood, bowing his head to avoid the
rooty ceiling of the chamber, rubbing his hands and arms,
for they were still stiff from the time spent inside a wudling
net. "How long, I wonder, shall we be mewed up?"

"Where is our trial and what will be our test?" Aelia
watched Palamon as he paced across their living cell. "As
you could hear, their leader, Parso, said we shall stay here
until the time rolls 'round that we come out. Perhaps this
is our trial, is it not?"

;      "But why then place us here?" Ursid asked. He had
^   also been rubbing the stiffness from his limbs, but he could
^    still labor to his feet only with difficulty. "We have no
fight with them; there is no need for this imprisonment."

Palamon smiled as he peered at Ursid, looking at the
^   youthful face which was crisscrossed by shadows from
^   the roots. The older knight's finely crafted mail peeked
through the rips in his mourning cloak as he spoke. "How
often has one branch of humankind required a reason for
some action keen, brought down upon the head of one of
its supposed foemen? Have you not yourself fought gamely
in some joust or heated fray against some knight you did
}   not even know? It seems to be the common pestilence of
foolish man; he fights with shadows of the things he fears
-   while all the monsters he would best confront still leer

80

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

and gibber at him, mocking him from someplace just
beyond his lantern's light."

Palamon paused to peer out at the empty clearing.
"One thing—no more—can we be sure of now. Though
all these many captors seem quite strange, it is our con-
solation—danger, too—that their humanity can never be
denied. They nicely qualify for it, by that condition I have
just described."

Ursid was brought up short by this sudden monologue.
He had no answer. But after a moment, Berengeria did
speak, breaking the silence with a soft voice. "Perhaps it
is an empty fear I feel, but it is still an honest fear, withal.
In back of all these acts, I seem to find the cunning,
waiting arm of Alyubol." She shuddered as she spoke.
Aelia approached her and placed a hand gently upon her
shoulder.

"Princess," Aelia said, "while we can understand your
fears, our new predicament indeed does seem to have an
isolated source, I think. The wudlings fear us, that much
is made plain. Through all their speech that I could under-
stand, there ran one common strain and that was this: the
tall men drove them out, the tall men killed their sons,
the tall men are all bad. We are no better in their childlike
eyes than Lothar and his men. They hate us all."

Ursid paused as if struck by a sudden thought. 'That
little wudling, Parso, said this was a trial, but mayhap 'tis
a test. Perhaps these wudhngs, as they term themselves,
intend to keep us here till we break free. Perhaps their
strategy's to let ys starve or perish out of thirst unless we
can assert ourselves, strike out, and force this place. Per-
haps the sooner we begin to dig or force our way beyond
these woody walls, the sooner we'll be free and on our
way."

"I think not." During the exchange of words, Palamon
had been pacing about the low chamber, peering out
between the roots, feeling their rough surfaces, and exam-
ining the living overhead of their cell. "I believe to force
these walls would have just one result—our instant
deaths."

This was a statement calculated to garrote a conver-

DENNIS MCCARTY            81

sation. Ursid turned to look at Palamon, nonplussed.
"What do you say?" To judge by their shocked expres-
sions, either of the women could have made the utterance
as easily.

"Have you not noticed that there is no thing, no beast
or vermin, insect, rat, or roach here, sheltered with our-
selves?"

"Most surely I have not," Ursid replied. "But yet that's
just as well. I've no desire to share this living cell with
any vermin, lonely though we be."

This time Palamon did not respond to Ursid'sjoke with
ajest of his own. He was deadly serious. This fact unnerved
the younger man as much as the older warrior's words.

"Look just between these roots before me here," the
tall knight said. "Note how they stand more thickly in
this place than, say, upon the side opposing this?"

"I note it."

"Your eye is good. Now look down at the middle of
these roots, just where they cluster thickest. Look in there.
Peer in and tell us all what you can see."

Ursid did as he had been told to. His eyes glistened as
he peered between the wooden bars of the unique prison.
Then he started. "Methinks I see a human skull in there."

"Indeed you do, still covered up with hair." Palamon
pointed to help the younger man make out what he himself
had carefully observed. "The skeleton still lies there in
the shade. It's hidden by dead leaves and nitrous mold
and just behind it lies another. So—two men attempted
crawling from this place. But contemplate their forms.
The roots all press about them on the sides and probe
between the bones like tentacles. Those fellows tried
escape and were impaled and pinned onto the ground by
living cords that must have grown most riotously, exter-
minating them by horrid means." Palamon gathered his
cloak around his arm, struck a heavy root, then jumped
back.

Instantly their living prison writhed into frenzied action.
Vile moisture boiled from pores in the wood and glided
across the surface; tendrils bristled forth, piercing the
space Palamon had occupied only an instant before. The

82 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

tendrils lengthened and became ropes; the ropes groped
relentlessly for something solid. And over all, the tree
shuddered and vibrated, causing the ground itself to trem-
ble as the plant searched for its victim.

Ursid shuddered at the sight. Berengeria sank to her
knees with Aelia's arms stilt about her. "The very gods
conspire to keep us from our goal."

Palamon watched silently as the frustrated vegetation
finally abandoned its search for him and the empty tendrils
dangled, still throbbing. "Not so, but we must all conspire
ourselves if we're to hope we ever reach that goal."

"What can we do?"

"We wait. We watch. We've time enough for some key
to be found. Perhaps your enemies may aid you yet; be
sure pale Lothar seeks you still."

Berengeria's eyes fell. "I'd rather perish here than be
his slave and once again be used against my will to aid
his country's rape of my own land. Should he come here,
these roots will have their feast."

There was no weakness in her voice; she issued the
statement as a plain, although unpleasant, fact. Palamon
gazed at her. How could anyone fail to admire such resolve,
though he might not agree with her intent? "Fear not,
brave lady. Such o'erlooking gods as do not note so firm
a will as yours would seem to me to be harsh gods, indeed."
As Palamon spoke, he noticed that Aelia also looked into
Berengeria's eyes, her tapered hands supporting the
younger woman protectively. It was a touching moment,
one that even a Knight of Pallas might have yearned to
be a part of—physical contact as a means to communicate
affection, sympathy, and support. Palamon thought better
of the notion, however, and it quickly passed.

Chapter Nine:

A Rescue

THE HOURS DRAGGED by; the afternoon passed and
darkness came. Night brought the wudlings back into the
clearing. Some half dozen of the green jailers bore torches
to the great tree; the torchlight cast capricious shadows
into the interior of the cell as the wudling chief, Parso,
approached to peer between the roots, his wrinkle-tracked
face distorted by the dancing light.

For several moments, Parso observed his captives. He
said nothing. Then he turned away, waving his compan-
ions ahead of him as if they had been so many children,
But before he had gone far, Aelia called after him. "Wait."
He ignored her and she repeated herself. "Wait."

The hairy little man turned, his angular features show-
ing what would have been annoyance on any face. "No
speeches will set you free, tall woman. The trial must run
its course."

"And there's no time that you might let us go?" Aelia
asked.

He shrugged. The gesture was ludicrous when made

83

84 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

by the green, apelike body. "You will remain here. The
trial will give us all the answer to that question."

"I tell you we are sought by cruel men," she said. "A
tyrant, Lothar, also called the Pale, has set his forces hot
upon our heels. You must release us. If his cavalry should
find us here, they'll slaughter your own people as they
deal with us."

His face showed no expression. "Tall men are tall men.
If any others follow you, we will deal with them in our
own way. You will remain here until you come out." He
turned and walked away, his torch marching into the dark-
ness.

Aelia slumped down in silence. Palamon could hear
the soft sound of her breathing; he needed hear no more
to understand her disappointment at the failure of her
entreaties.

"Will we die here, 1 wonder? Comes a time when they
will set us free?" Berengeria's voice was a whisper in the
darkness.

"And every moment lost is Lothar's victory." Ursid's
tone was quiet and Palamon noted the mutter of regret in
the young knight's words. Doubtless the youth rued his
rashness in aiding Berengeria, now that he was held help-
less while the hounds of Lothar the Pale bayed ever more
closely. He was to be pitied. Whatever he might have felt
now, this young gallant, it was too late for him to undo
his actions. He would be forced to live or die with the
result.

"Alas, alas." These words were also spoken quietly;

they were little more than a sigh from Berengeria's lips.

Conversation died away. Into the night the captives sat
huddled together in the darkness at the center of the living
cell, waiting, listening, listening. From the dense forest
outside came no sound other than the cry of a far-off wolf
and the occasional buzz of a bat in flight. Of the usual
symphony of insects, toads, and other small creatures one
would have expected to hear in such a place, there was
no note.

The night passed dismally. The tree occasionally
creaked as its upper branches were disturbed by a breeze;

DENNIS MCCARTY

85

a member of the party snored or sighed in his sleep. The
wudlings stayed away.

At last a subtle shifting of the shadows outside the
wooden cage signaled the first wakings of dawn. Palamon
watched it come. Peering through the roots, he noted the
approach of Parso, along with a pair of other wudlings.
Their bowed legs moved them across the leafy floor of
the glade with surprising quickness. Palamon shook Ursid
awake while Aelia did the same for Berengeria, although
more quietly,

The wudlings came to the great tree. Parso peered in
between the roots and said something to Aelia, who had
been the one to speak to him the night before. Aelia
responded to the whispers sullenly; she had slept little
during the night. Looking past the two of them, Palamon
noticed that day had come to the clearing, and it was once
more filling up with little green apemen. The wudlings
approached from between the shadowy trunks of trees or
dropped down from the leafy branches, seeming as much
at ease scurrying along knobby limbs as along the flat
ground.

They gathered about the great tree. Conversation
buzzed through the clearing as they gathered about, peer-
ing in at the prisoners. At length Parso turned and
addressed all who could hear him, speaking in measured
tones with his arms upraised as though he were chanting
a memorized verse. "The tall ones are alive. Their term
has passed away and now they must go, according to the
law and custom of our people. They have survived the
night within the tree and by that they have shown us they
might someday leam something of our ways. By our laws
they will be freed."

The speech produced a mixed reaction. Some of the
wudlings stood silently while many others grumbled or
even voiced open disapproval. The protest built into a
storm. "Another night must be passed," shouted one of
the wudlings.

"More will come. They cannot be allowed to go," cried
another. "The trial was wrongly done."

Aelia's face betrayed fear at the opposition to the lead-

86 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

er's words. She stood to address the wudlings from within
the tree. "If we have satisfied your ancient laws, then you
must free us. We must be away." This was a mistake,
however: the wudlings closest to the tree snaried disap-
proval and some picked up sticks from the forest floor,
shaking them menacingly.

Ursid touched her on the arm. "Do not advise them,
for it seems your pleading words incite them more."

Parso spoke again, trying to quell his angry people.
They were like a green sea of hatred seething on the floor
of the clearing. They glared at the captives; some made
angry speeches, and a few even hurled objects at the tree.
With each impact, the living prison vibrated more and the
roots twitched and danced with the increasing hostility of
the crowd.

"An ugly mob," Palamon said quietly. "It's easy to
discern why other men have not survived their 'trials.'
And till this passion fades, the closest thing to safety in
my eyes is huddled in the center of this place. At all
events, we must avoid the roots."

Ursid glared at the muling wudlings. "By all the gods,
I wish we could do more."

"Until we can, we must preserve ourselves by what
small means we have." Palamon pulled Ursid tightly against
him as he stood with his head bowed in the low, dark
space beneath the bole of the great tree. Aelia and
Berengeria joined them- Outside, the crowd milled and
bickered with all eyes riveted upon the four captives.

Then something happened. There was another com-
motion, this one centering at the rear of the mob on one
side of the clearing. Screams attracted attention. Looking
in that direction, Palamon saw an unexpected sight: arrows
were singing into the glade. There was more screaming,
the wudlings began to panic, a trumpet call sounded from
nearby.

The erstwhile captors scattered from the clearing. Some
of them scrambled away from the trumpet call, others
faded into spaces between the trees themselves, many
vaulted nimbly up trunks and into the leafy branches.

In half a moment, the clearing was empty, save a half

DENNIS MCCARTY            87

dozen dead or writhing wudling bodies and Parso himself.
The wrinkled old leader stood for an instant, contem-
plating the prisoners with a quizzical expression; then he
scurried from the area as nimbly as any of his fellows.

The trumpet sounded once more, and horses appeared
between the trees. Berengeria groaned at the sight of them;

they were ridden by armed men who wore the purple-
and-gold capes of Lothar the Pale's cavalry.

Palamon noticed Berengeria's reaction and quickly
grasped her by the arms. She fought to free herself, throw-
ing her body this way and that, trying to jerk away from
him. "Release me, Palamon. 'Tis best I die within these
cursed roots."

"I know your mind but still you must keep on. No
matter what may pass, you still have life and can devise
a scheme for new escape. To die requires no courage in
a heart; it's life's own tortures toward which we gird. Your
suffering is a privilege, withal, for one can only suffer
while he lives." He held her firmly until Aelia and Ursid
could aid him. Then he released the struggling maiden.
"My pardon, for I fear your arms are bruised."

Berengeria despaired of fighting her way free. She col-
lapsed into Aelia's arms, sobbing bitterly. Palamon turned
away, his ears afflicted by the sounds of her grief as well
as Aelia's whispers as she soothed her charge. He watched
the approach of the warriors instead.

There were over twenty mounted men. Some of them
climbed down from their horses and went about the busi-
ness of dispatching the fallen wudlings while the rest rode
toward the great tree, suspiciously eyeing the occupants.

One of the horsemen dismounted and peered keenly
between the roots. As a clasp for his dew-stained cape,
he wore the sword-and-shield insignia, marking him as an
officer in King Lothar's light cavalry. His expression was
hard as chert as his gaze passed over the four of them.
His eyes lingered upon Berengeria. "Good day. Princess.
It is with happiness I look upon your unharmed form.
Have patience, please, and soon my men will have you
free from this great tree's embrace."

Berengeria had calmed herself enough to face him; she

88 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

returned his gaze with one even colder. "How much 1 find
that I prefer the company of all these wudtings you have
driven off to yours, or any minion's of Buerdaunt. My
body only shall you carry back to Buerdaunt's gate. For
by my soul, I'll make that journey only as a stiffened
corpse."

The officer's expression did not change. "Rest easily,
I have good men with me- They shall prevent unpleasant
accidents." He placed a nasty accent on the last word,
then allowed his gaze to pass to Aelia. "My Lady, you
have caused us much concern. Intrigue no more on burden
of your life, for though the good Princess is to survive
her journey to Buerdaunt, no one had placed a limitation
such as that on you."

At the sight of Ursid, a long breath escaped his lips.
"And you, Ursid. This makes quite plain the means by
which this grand escape was made. Young man, you stood
in high esteem in Lothar's court but on return I wager
you shall find yourself in some more fitting place: perhaps
the headman's axe or molten lead or else the rack or wheel
shall be your fate." Finally, his gaze rested upon Palamon.
"And as for you, your place in this is small. Your exe-
cution shall be quick and just."

Palamon smiled and nodded. "My thanks to you. Such
kindness lives within your noble heart my faulty tongue
can scarcely give it shape."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "What's that you wear?"

"A shabby, badly torn, gray woolen cloak."

"Below the cloak, 1 mean, as you well know. Such
chain mail ne'er is seen but on few men. One class of
knight alone may don those links. This makes me think
of stories I have heard; fair Pallas' Knights do not conceal
themselves without due cause." He paused, assaying
Palamon with glinting eyes. "1 think I know you, man. If
so, your execution should be welcome—kind release from
your most painful shame."

He strode away. Ursid touched Palamon's shoulder.
"What did he mean? Why did he speak that way?"

Palamon laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I know
him not; he does not speak of me. So many legends ring

DENNIS McCARTY            89

the Thiassa Mey, a man can quote one for each unknown
face."

Aelia interrupted. "What shall we do? My wits are at
end."

"Fear not, my Lady. One misfortune now can serve to
cover up another's harm." Palamon gestured toward the
living bars of their prison. "They cannot haul us back
unto Buerdaunt until we're loosed from here beneath this
tree."

Aelia made an impatient sound and eyed Palamon
coldly. "I cannot understand you. Your best cheer seems
ever close upon the heels of foulest fortune."

"So it always goes. And with good cause—no gloom
can I maintain, my Lady; you have got it all."

The cavalry officer returned to the tree, accompanied
by a man who carried bundles in his arms. They stopped
at the margin of the roots and the officer spoke once more.
"Perhaps you have not breakfasted as yet; therefore I
bring you some provisions. Good wine, dried meats and
fruits and hardtack biscuits, all are yours. Dine well."

"We have not supped at all since yesterday," Ursid
said-

The officer turned to his subordinate. "Then draw your
weapon, sirrah; hew a path through these accursed weeds.
We'll soon remove these individuals and feed them all. I
hope I may assume, my fair Princess, that you will prom-
ise on your honor not to flee once this is done."

"Assume as you may wish. 1*11 flee from you as soon
as opportunity allows."

The officer bowed stiffly. "So, madam, as you please.
It matters not. Some cord about your ankles will suffice
as well as any vow." Again he turned to the man beside
him. "Now use your sword. Hack out a path, and we will
pluck them forth."

The soldier did as he had been ordered; his blade
described a glinting arc and sliced into one of the great
tree's roots. The plant responded violently- The sword
was dragged from the soldier's fingers by tendrils that
appeared from nowhere and he screamed in agony as the
flesh of his arm was pierced by a living dagger of wood

90

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

lancing forth from an adjoining root. The man wrenched
himself free of his impalement, spun about, and sank to
his knees, weeping and clutching the disabled member.

The enraged tree trembled through its entire height.
Berengeria shrank into Palamon's arms and the four pris-
oners clung to one another in the center of the shadowy,
pulsating chamber.

The officer's face lengthened and grew pale. He gazed
up at the soaring heights that shook and quivered above
him, the lines in his face growing dark as rain. He hardly
seemed to notice his crippled man as the fellow rose and
staggered toward the aid of his companions. "What sort
of devil's magic have we here?"

"You have the reason we have not escaped," Aelia
said- "How can you think we'd not have wriggled out
unless this tree possessed some mystic power to coun-
teract our aims? The wudlings you so rudely drove away
alone possess the art to set us free."

"So that may be or so it may not be." The officer
studied the tree and its roots for a moment. "But there is
not an object made of wood, though diabolical, that can-
not bum."

Aelia's face filled with scorn. "Consider the reception
you will have at Lothar's court when you return the news
your hostages were strangled by this growth. You must
be foolish if you really think it will not wreak its vengeance
horribly on those within its power when it feels the first
caress of flames. You silly man."

For the first time, the officer lost some of his confi-
dence, His lips formed a tight line. He stood glaring the
tree, his hands upon his hips and his purple-and-gold cape
spreading out behind him. "Then very well. There are
more mysteries than those within this tree. King Lothar
holds onto the loyalty of one you may not know, who
wields mysterious powers and dark art without a parallel
in all the world. This wizard's minion journeys here e'en
now. I do not welcome him; I like him not. But he can
master this o'erreaching plant and wring you from its
clutches, by my faith."

AeHa's voice nearly failed her as she spoke. This min-

DENNIS McCARTY

91

ion in your service, does he wear a robe of white? And
does he ride a jet black mount? And doesn't he respond
when called 'Navron?'"

The cavalry officer looked at her for a moment. "He
wears white—but I do not know his name. The truth to
tell, my Lady, he has sent us to this very place to seek
you out. I do not know his information's source; he tells
us where to go and what we'll find. He stated he would
meet us at this place. When we have made your capture,
he will come."

Ursid interrupted. "And will he come before we die of
thirst? Before this tree has starved our souls from us?"

"He will arrive before the break of dawn." The officer
looked the captives over one last time without further
comment. Then he turned upon his heel and strode away,
waving at a pair of his men. "I want you men to set a
watch at once."

Aelia turned to Palamon, her eyes full of concern.
"Before the break of dawn, he says. The bounds of time
we have until we come again within the dark influence of
our foe, foul Alyubol, are set. We must escape tonight."

Palamon nodded, sighing. "A fearful challenge. Lady,
by my troth. But still, we must embrace hope till the end."
Then drawing close to her, he whispered an extra word.
"You must stay by this maid, our dear Princess, at any
cost. I fear her loss of hope will make her rash." He looked
into Aelia's eyes; they understood that fact together.

So history paused, teetering upon this point. Palamon,
Ursid, Aelia, and Berengeria were trapped in the depths
of a living prison that would not yield them up before the
arrival of Alyubol's agent. The day wore on and they
waited, parching, their insides crawling with hunger. As
for the cavalrymen, they waited also. They lounged in the
long, cool grass of the clearing, playing at lots or currying
their horses as they watched the pair of their cohorts who
in turn watched the captives.

It was now afternoon. The guard standing watch over
the tree and its captives had been changed once. One of
the present sentries was an ill-favored man who was called
Otar.

92 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Otar was an interesting fellow; he was older than the
other men of his company and his speech was more coarse-
He was not dirty as such, but an unshorn patch of beard
and the untended scrapes of his harness betrayed an atten-
tion to the details of dress that was not equal to that of
his fellow riders.

Otar was not of noble birth, which was unusual among
the light cavalrymen of Buerdaunt. He had reached his
place on his own. Through force of will, ability, deter-
mination, and willingness to climb over or dance around
every obstacle, he had made the leap from common
guardsman to light cavalryman. He was proud of what he
had done.

In spite of this, Otar's life among the mounted soldiers
of Lothar the Pale was not an easy one. He was looked
down upon by his more exalted fellows. They snubbed
him, they would not drink with him, they rarely even
spoke to him except to carry out orders.

For this reason, Otar was a hardened, bitter man. And
perhaps it was also for this reason that he had developed
a streak of cruelty which betrayed itself at times when he
could indulge it without risking his career.

This was one of those times. He stood his post well,
watching the captives with the same endless intensity a
cat displays before a mousehote. He knew them all. He
knew Aelia and Berengeria by what he had heard of them
and he recognized Ursid because that young man was—
or had been—an officer in the light cavalry himself-

Otar knew Palamon well. He knew the tall knight from
having seen him in a waterfront tavern in Buerdaunt. He
also knew him from something he once had seen years
ago in the city of Oron, which lay north of the Thiassa
Mey. Otar seldom forgot a face; he never forgot an inter-
esting one.

So he knew Palamon. He approached the great tree to
speak with the tall warrior, who sat with bowed head.
Otar dropped carelessly to his hands and knees and peered
in at Palamon, then whistled a low, almost inaudible whis-
tle. Palamon lifted his head and Otar spoke to him. "I
know you, I do."

DENNIS MCCARTY            93

"Oh, do you?"

"I saw you in Oron once, didn't I? You were in a
ceremony when I was there. When was it? I think it was
about eight years ago."

The first tracings of a smile appeared at the corners of
Palamon's lips. "Is that the truth?"

"It is, indeed." Otar warmed to his subject. "It was an
interesting ceremony; a Knight of Pallas was being expelled
from the order. Do you remember it?"

There was no answer from Palamon. There was still a
slight smile on his face but it was fixed; there was no
mirth in it.

"You Knights of Pallas make so many vows, no man
could keep them all- I'm on your side, remember that."
Otar's eyes glittered as they flicked across the forms of
Aelia and Berengeria, then back to Palamon. "You vow
not to drink too much. Now that's a fine vow, friend. A
man can't drink too much, the way I see it; it's hard just
to drink enough. You vow not to be rich, too. That's an
easy one, though. It's easy not to be rich."

There was still no change in Palamon's expression.

"But the big vow is that vow of chastity, isn't it?" Otar
grinned as he contemplated his prey.

Aelia interrupted- "Now hear me, sir: we've neither
supped nor drunk for days. Must all this ignorant small
speech be heaped upon our ears? Are things not bad
enough?"

Otar spread his hands in an innocent gesture. "I'm just
passing the time with this knight. Lady. Don't chastise
me. By Typhon's bloody spear, I'm trying to help him
pass the day along. If you don't like my words, don't
listen."

Palamon spoke then, his voice low and even. "My
thanks to you, sir, for your kind intent. You have no
concept of the Joy you bring by helping me relive those
bygone days."

"I do my best, I won't deny it. But you must have
been a handsome one years ago. You're tall and straight,
it's no use to deny that. And you have those great, stout
arms and pretty, supple thighs, too. You need a bit of a

94 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

shave; the whiskers are a little thicker than they ought to
be but that's understandable, given your present fix. You
could be a lady killer with some cleaning up. I bet these
two here have looked you over more than once, for all
their noble robes."

Again Otar flicked his gaze toward the two women.
Aelia glared back at him but Berengeria had turned away
and only the position of her arm showed that she had
pressed one hand to her face. Ursid also watched, frown-
ing.

"So I'm on your side, and there's no denying it. There
you were, a well-made fellow, all gleaming in chain mail
and your great, gray cape spread across the back of your
horse whenever you rode through the streets to the Fast-
ness of Pallas. The women must have thrown themselves
at you, lots of them. What a position to be in, you with
normal feelings under all that shine, and those women
throwing themselves at you like you were the last piece
of manflesh on the Thiassa Mey. Makes those vows of
chastity mighty hard to remember, doesn't it?"

"What's this you say?" Ursid's voice was filled with
disbelief. Aelia silenced him with a deadly glare but the
question was already out.

Otar turned and looked at Ursid, gleaming teeth punc-
tuating his words. "Well, young sir, it was a minor
transgression, and there's no use arguing. You know the
feelings a man gets when he looks at a pretty girl; there's
no vow in the world that can change that. So how much
of a surprise could it be when this pretty young thing
turned up with a little baby and no husband? By Typhon's
vipers, these mistakes happen- It's one of those things,
just human nature doing what it was meant to do.

"As far as I'm concerned, he did everything that was
right by that young lady, and there's no arguing about
that. He claimed the baby, and it made that girl a some-
body in her own village instead of Just a ruined woman.
That's noble. Of course there was still that vow of chastity
he took. There was no getting around the fact he had
rumpled that a little. But, like I said, it was just one of
those things, a minor transgression at the worst.

DENNIS MCCARTY            95

"The trouble was that the Grand Master of the Knights
of Pallas didn't look at it that way, you see. There's no
arguing about that; he's one man who doesn't have any
sense of humor. So they paraded this poor fellow into the
market square in Oron, to the front of the Temple of Pallas
and they humiliated him until an average man wouldn't
have been able to stand it. They ripped off his cape and
they bumed it; then they hauled him off his horse and
they lashed the horse out of the square. They threw mud
on that chain mail of his and told him he'd soiled it until
a good man couldn't wear it any more. Last of all, they
threw a rope around him and dragged him out through
the city gate, then left him lying there in the road with all
the wagons and travelers going by, staring at him." Otar
shook his head. "And all because of such a little mistake,
a 'half-hour indiscretion,' as we call it."

"1 cannot voice my feelings. I've no words with which
to thank you for your thoughtfulness in showing me the
sympathy you feel." Palamon still smiled but his face
looked drawn and gray, even in the shadows of the tree.

"Think nothing of it." Otar turned his head and noted
the approach of the cavalry officer. "Ah, back to business,
I see." He looked again at Palamon once more, tilting his
head to one side. "I'll have to go back to my post now.
No sense in looking too familiar with the prisoners. But
I'd realty like to talk more. Anytime you think you need
someone to talk to, you call me over." He winked at
Palamon, stood, and resumed his post. Once he turned,
his face lost all expression. He was again the loyal sentry
doing his duty.

Palamon sat for a long time, staring straight ahead.
There was no sound at all in the root-lined chamber. Ursid
sat off to one side, his face bowed between his upraised
knees. Aelia and Berengeria huddled together. By turns
they moved their heads to cast glances at Palamon's back,
but not a word was spoken as the day crawled its endless
course toward evening.

Chapter Ten:

New Allies

IT WAS EVENING. The trees in this forest stood too
thickly for the sun to be seen settling against the western
horizon; the light simply began to fail and the inside of
the wooden cell became so dark its inmates could barely
see one another's faces.

The shock caused by Otar's gossip had faded a bit. It
was hard for the four fugitives to find words, though at
least they were looking at one another now. But the sub-
ject of Palamon's past was still avoided.

As the shadows beneath the great tree blended into
one another, Aelia knelt near Palamon's side. Her face
was grave. "I'd like to have a word or two with you. Sir
Knight."

"Speak, then. Some words may help to pass the time."

"I speak for both myself and my Princess. We did not
know your past, though we both knew it to be mysterious.
Some things about it you have kept from us, as is your
right. That does not matter; it has no import. What matters
now is this—you have served well. Your bravery and

96

DENNIS MCCARTY

97

stout resourcefulness have helped us on our way, at least
this far, at peril of your very life and limb. Whatever
happens, listen to me now; you must mew up your past
within this tree. When we pass from this place come morn,
your past mistakes, regrets, and all things else must stay
behind." She paused to study the effect of her words.
Then she went on.

"You joined your fate to ours. We are as one together
in this band. You joined this group; you gave your word
to that. Our purpose is to see that our Princess goes free.
No other fact or circumstance can matter now."

Palamon gazed back at her. To her surprise, his expres-
sion was one of light good humour; the face which had
looked out toward the clearing all afternoon now bore a
pleasant smile and slightly raised eyebrows. "Of course,
my Lady. You should have good cheer; with such as us,
escape is always near."

Even though Palamon's answer was positive, Aelia was
taken aback. Was this the same knight who had lain help-
less beneath the innuendoes of the cavalryman only a few
hours earlier? She had watched him then, watched the
life drain from his features as Otar's words had rained
down upon him, piercing him like darts. She had watched
his sturdy, battle-scarred limbs go slack from shame and
his broad back bow under the weight of it, even as he had
played the role of a man who had cared for nothing. Was
he doing that now? Or was he even affected by the shame
of Otar's revelation?

She shook her head inwardly; it was a puzzle. His
recovery had unnerved her. Could any man be as uncaring
as Palamon seemed to want her to believe he was? "1
must say I am pleased to find that you are in good spirits,"
she said.

"There's no reason not to be. My past is all my own;

you have no need to mix in it. I shall keep faith, withal,
if you can still bear up beneath the shame of keeping
company with such a low, whoremongering, base knave
as I."

Aelia sighed. She touched him lightly on the arm, then

98 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

turned back toward Berengeria. The book that was the
man inside Palamon was still closed to her.

The last glow of day quickly faded, leaving darkness
broken only by a pair of campfires built by the cavalry-
men. The flames leaped and crackled. By their light, the
soldier's faces could be seen along with the two men who
stood stiffly on watch beside the great tree and its inmates.

Inside the tree it was stilt quiet. Conversation had long
ago given way to each captive's battle with the hunger
and thirst that threatened to overpower them all. Ursid
lay on the damp soil, his arms curled about his knees.
Aelia and Berengeria sat together silently. Palamon
watched the faces that ringed the two bounding fires at
the edge of the clearing, seemingly unaffected by what
was occurring within him and without.

There was a noise from one side of their rootbarred
cell. It was a whisper, scarcely audible. Aelia sat up. She
remained motionless for a moment, then responded, also
in a whisper. The voice from outside came again.

Palamon moved closer to her. The whisper came from
just a few cubits away but he could make out no shape
in the gloom- "What is it?"

"It's Parse." Aelia groped for Palamon's face in the
darkness, found it, and placed a finger across his lips.
"Wait."

There was a quick exchange of whispers between Aelia
and the wudling chieftain. Then she spoke again to her
companions, her voice soft in the darkness. "He says he's
come to set us free. Make not a sound."

"Though we might try, how will we pass the guards?"
Although Ursid spoke in a harsh whisper, his voice was
' full of ex'-.itement.

"Be silent. Keep your peace; do as I say." Aelia's voice
became harsh. "He says that he will open up an aisle
between these moving roots. My dear Princess, you have
to be the first to crawl away. Crawl straight into the trees
that mark the edge of this broad clearing. Keep your body
low, make not a sound, and do not stop until you feel the
touch of Parso's hand."

DENNIS MCCARTY               99

"How do you know he does not lie to us?" Ursid asked.
"How could he reach us 'tween these sentries' eyes?"

"He says no human eyes can see his kind when it is
dark if they do not desire to be discerned. And to your
other doubt, we have no choice. The hand of Alyubol is
very near; all hope will soon be lost." Already some low
sounds, the raspings of a whispered incantation, pene-
trated their hearing. "Go now. Princess; 'tis you who must
escape. Till you are free, the rest of us are nothing."

Another faint sound came to Palamon's ears—the low,
sinister rustling of the coarse roots as they drew back to
form a passage. Then there was silence. "Go now," Aelia
whispered.

There was a sound of nervous breathing and Palamon
could sense the movement of Berengeria's body as she
hitched her robe so she could crawl on her hands and
knees toward the opening. He heard her gasp softly as
she rubbed against the rough surface of one of the roots.
Then she was gone. Fear entered his mind for a moment,
fear of what fate could await her at the hands of the
wudlings. Were the intentions of the apemen friendly?
That seemed too good to be true after the animosity shown
earlier. But would Parse have braved the swords of the
cavalrymen simply for the sake of punishing his former
prisoners personally? That also seemed unlikely.

Whatever awaited her, there was no hesitation on
Berengeria's part. She bravely grasped the doubtful straw.
Palamon was impressed: she was a woman of great cour-
age and resolve, as was her mentor. She was fate's child;

that thought kept returning to him; many were the times
when he could sense its presence about her.

Aelia issued more whispered instructions. "Now we
must wait a middling space of time. Then I will follow,
then will come Ursid. Then lastly you, 0 Palamon. Now
heed my words, for once again I say: keep low, be silent,
crawl straight to the trees."

Palamon noted the order of her instructions. There
could be no doubt she intended for them to escape in the
order of their relative usefulness to her. She would follow
Berengeria. He would come last. The thought brought a

100 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

thin smile to his lips; whatever Aelia might say, Otar's
story had produced a change in her estimation of him.

They waited. Palamon's eyes strayed back to the bon-
fires where the soldiers still were showing no movement.
There was no sign they had noticed the activity within
the tree. After what seemed to be a long time, Aelia's
robes rustled and she moved into the opening; then she
was also gone.

Palamon and Ursid sat together. The younger man's
breathing was soft, almost nonexistent. Palamon could
almost hear his heart pounding a cubit away. "Will we
escape, I wonder?" Ursid's voice was hardly even a whis-
per. "But we must. Our lives lie on the balance if we fail."

Palamon nodded, although he knew the motion could
not be seen by Ursid. "A life can be a very tiny thing, a
little flame, not very hard to snuff. Sometimes a life is
ended, though the body still may move."

There was more silence, a long, long silence. Then
Ursid spoke again, his voice even smaller than before.
"Why did you do it?"

Palamon's eyes closed. "Ah."

"If you had honor and esteem and were considered
better than most men, then how could you give those
things up for woman's arms?"

The answer was hardly more audible than the question;

it echoed from deep inside Palamon's body. "A man does
many strange things in his life. You gave up noble status
in Buerdaunt to aid the Princess Berengeria. And why
was that, I wonder?"

Now it was Ursid who was silent. It took him a long
time to reply. "I love her."

"1 know you do."

"Were you in love those many years ago?"

Palamon sighed. "I hardly knew the girl. And now it's
time for you to leave."

In the darkness, Ursid groped his way to the passage
between the roots. Then he was gone. Palamon sat alone
in the gloom, occasionally glancing at the dim, dim figures
of the guards, twenty cubits away, or at the men at their
campfires. Then it was his turn. He rolled onto his belly

DENNIS McCARTY

101

and crawled toward the place where the opening lay framed
by the rough roots that had been his guardians for the
last two days. He crawled out quickly and flattened him-
self in the tall, coarse grass of the clearing.

The grass had a fresh, sweet smell that filled Palamon's
nostrils as he crawled to the edge of the clearing, moving
himself with his knees and his elbows. It took an eternity.
From the comer of one eye he could see a guard silhou-
etted against the fire. He felt naked and exposed but the
soldier made no move.

At last, Palamon reached the trees and he crawled past
the first trunk. The sounds of the encamped cavalrymen
were behind him now. A hairy hand was placed upon his
shoulder. Looking up, he could barely discern the angular
form of the wudling who held it out, but he felt himself
being grasped by the wrist and pulled to his feet. Then
they ran. Palamon had to run doubled half over to main-
tain contact with his escort. While his back grew stiff,
they ran far into the trees. They twisted and turned, and
it was hard for him to keep track of the way they were
going; he guessed their general direction to be southwest
from the clearing where the great tree stood.

They had gone only a short way when Palamon heard
a shout; the escape had been discovered. Loud curses
filled the clearing behind them. The officer's voice roared
out orders; torches were lighted and horses whinnied and
stamped as they were hurriedly saddled. Dots of light
flared up and moved about the clearing. Some of them
were already moving into the trees.

There was no time for Palamon to observe more. The
wudling who guided him pulled him almost off his feet as
it was, forcing him to run with all the speed he could
muster in his awkward position. The wudling's fleetness
was amazing. Palamon could not believe the pace they
set through the dark forest. He could only surrender him-
self to his escort's guidance as the torches and shouting
were left behind.

At last, when he felt he could run no farther, the ape-
man stopped him. "Wait," a rough voice said.

Palamon looked about but he could not see a thing.

102 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

His companions, Aelia, Berengeria, Ursid, were neither
to be seen nor heard. But another hairy hand reached out
from somewhere above him and tugged upward. He
shrugged it off- It returned, along with many more, and
he felt fiber lines being placed about his arms and legs.
At first he resisted but he was too emptied by fatigue,
hunger, and thirst to hold out. His head rocked back and
the world swung about crazily as he felt himself being
jerked upward.

He was pulled toward the heavens at all odd angles,
sometimes with his feet above his head, sometimes with
his body level to the ground. His hands had nothing to
grasp. At last one hand made contact with something
hard. It was a platform. He was being pulled up onto a
wooden platform.

As he was roughly trundled over the edge, he reached
out and one hand made contact with something soft. It
was a woman's shoulder; the woman thrust his hand away.
"Don't." The voice belonged to Berengeria.

"I beg your pardon. Highness. I just reached to lay my
hands on any solid thing."

"Of course. Forgive me."

"Where have we arrived?"

Berengeria hesitated. "Perhaps my Lady ought to tell
you that. These wood folk will confide somewhat in her;

they have no trust for you, Ursid, or me."

"We are upon a platform residence." This voice
belonged to Aelia. "It is a simple structure, Parso's home.
Take this; you need it. It will give you strength."

He accepted the wooden bowl she pushed into his
hands. It contained a son of thick, spicy gniel, quite
smooth and not at all unpleasant tasting, especially con-
sidering it was the first thing to pass his lips in two days.
He finished the bowl quickly, then spoke again. 'Then
you have spoken with them at some length? What thing
do they intend to do with us?"

Aelia's hand took the bowl from him in the darkness,
then returned it, full once more. "I think they may intend
to set us free and even, possibly, to give us aid."

Chapter Eleven:

Inland Navigation

THE COURSE OF events over the next day and a half
was both exhausting and drastically different from what
it had been. The fleeing foursome rested only a short time
on Parso's tree platform, then they were off with two
wudling guides, scurrying through the darkness on hidden
forest paths. Behind them, legions ofwudlings massed to
exact vengeance on the cavalrymen of Lothar the Pale.

But the wudlings' fear and hatred of Buerdaunt's sol-
diers was a godsend to the four fugitives; their former
captors now looked upon them, especially Aelia, with new
eyes. The two guides escorted them to a hilly land of
lakes, streams, and marshes, which was even wilder than
the forests they had just left.

They reached a village built upon pilings in one of the
many small marshes; their guides told them it was the
home of the Morgaine wudlings. And the Morgaine
wudlings possessed boats-

With the support of the two guides, Aelia negotiated
for use of a pair of the light craft; boats were of more use

103

104 FLIGHT TO THLASSA M£Y

than horses in this stream-cut land. The talks were long,
the Morgaine wudlings unsympathetic. Only Aelia's guile
and skill with words and promises could have carried them
off with success. But she did succeed. She admired many
things, said much, promised much. The fugitives were
given boats, along with goods to provision them; and a
river became their highway.

But their highway led into unknown lands. The
Morgaine wudlings knew only that it flowed into unex-
plored territory dominated by a forbidden stream called
the Stilchis.

This revelation caused the four fugitives to pause. All
of them had heard of the Cauldron of the Stilchis, an
unknown valley untrodden by the feet of civilized men-
Did they dare follow the stream to its termination? That
was a hard question, but they had no choice but to ignore
it and follow the stream for the time being.

So they spent the day learning to manage their tiny
craft as they passed through scenes of great tranquility.
The river flowed smoothly as they paddled, its progress
marked only in the way it tugged at the grass roots hanging
from the undercut bank or by the way the sun reflected
from the smooth V's that spread from the bows of their

little craft.

They camped for the night and examined the supplies
given them by the wudlings. There were bronze fishhooks
and line for the capture of the river's denizens, wooden
containers of dried fruits and meats, rope, several small
knives, a hatchet, and more. There were cooking utensils
and even a quantity of strange, dark flour which, though
strange looking, was tasty. But their weapons were still
in the wudlings* hands. The trust of the apemen was not
complete, even though they had provisioned the boats
generously. This was upsetting to Palamon; the loss of his
sword with its odd pommel ornament was quite disturbing
to him, although he said little.

They set out early in the morning and the day was
spent in the same way as the day before, paddling quietly
along the stream, pulling an occasional wriggling fish from

DENNIS McCARTY             105

the water, stopping at dark to cook their catch. It was
more like play than an escape fraught with danger.

It went thus for a large part of the next day as well.
But the stream they were following gradually became
swifter and rougher and the green hilts rose up around it
like megalithic jaws. By midafternoon, the river ran
between vertical walls of dark stone: the foursome could
not have landed here, even if they had wished. They did
reach an open place at last; the tiny boats were hauled
onto the beach and the four passengers stood for several
moments to stretch stiff joints.

Aelia looked up and down the canyon before turning
to the others. "I fear the dangers of this river more with
each bend passed. Perhaps the time has come when we
must choose between the slower, safer route—dry land—
and this onrushing river's unknown path."

"Indeed," Berengeria said. "I long to know the dangers
that this river holds in store. The wudlings told us that
these waters flow into the Stilchis. How much do you
know of such a stream?"

"1 know of legends, that is ail," Palamon said.
"When I was a girl," Aelia said, "old tales were some-
times told about the Cauldron of the Stilchis."
Palamon nodded silently.

Aelia looked up at him. "You heard the same old tales?"
"Full many stories, down across the years."
"The tales that I remember—there are few—portray
an unknown valley where no man who enters e'er can
hope to leave."

Palamon looked at her and Berengeria. There were no
answers to be found in his face.

"Such legends, do they hold a bit of truth?" Aelia asked,
He shrugged. "What does it matter? Our course is laid
out. We have no weapons for a trek on land." His expres-
sion turned into a smile, the same smile she had seen
before, making his face into a mask which she could not
hope to penetrate. "Besides, my Lady, tales mean nought
to us; we are the stuff ourselves from which tales come.
You have escaped pale Lothar and Buerdaunt, eluded
mounted cavalry and traps; a lady such as you has not

106

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the need to fret herself with cares of unknown lands. You
seem to make a practice of those things that ne'er are
done by other mortals- Worry not."

"You say 1 should not be concerned that all our fates
hang on this unknown river's whim?" There was a note
of irritation in Aelia's voice.

Palamon's expression did not change. "I say our
thoughts mean nothing for, you see, the die is cast."

She studied him for a moment. "There's truth in what
you say. But even so, if this smooth stream we follow
now should change, should lead us into perils unforeseen,
then we shall quit it, striking out by land."

"While minding all the while the hot pursuit by land
of Lothar's minions. And of Alyubol." Palamon nodded.

"Indeed." AeHa turned away from Palamon and faced
Ursid. "And you? Have you a thought, 0 silent knight?"

"I have no weapon other than this knife." Ursid bran-
dished a short blade gained from the provisions. "But still,
I favor land. I know that way."

But Berengeria, who had been looking about, inter-
rupted the debate. "Look up- No matter now, the thing

is gone."

"What thing?" Ursid's eyes followed Berengeria's gaze.

"Ah, yes," Palamon said. 'The flash of sun from off a
helm, or then perhaps it is a sword raised up on high. But
listen: you can hear them as they come."

It was true. The air was fretted by the faint, faint drum-
ming of horse's hooves. Palamon leaped to one of the
boats. "Unless I miss my guess, a trail must lead down
to this very beach on which we stand. We must be off.
Come, help me launch away."

The others hurried to his side. The sound of the gal-
loping horses could be heard more plainly now and it was
approaching, though the thick foliage of the canyon wall
still hid the men who were making it. The hulls of the
boats sounded over sand and stones as they were pushed
into the water. The ladies were seated in their places.
Palamon and Ursid scrambled into their own seats as the
craft slid into the quick current; it was a maneuver they
had learned well in the last day or so.

DENNIS MCCARTY

107

They paddled out into the river, looking back at the
thing they had escaped. Their worst fears were realized:

bursting from the thick brush onto the beach came many
mounted men wearing the cavalry uniforms of Buer-
daunt—all of them, that is, except one. That exception
wore heavy white robes, and even across the space
between them, Palamon could sense the frustration in the
dark eyes. It was as if the fellow could have set the hide
hulls of the boats aflame with his searing orbs. Palamon
recognized him. He was Navron, Alyubol's henchman.

The horsemen brought their finely trained mounts to
a sliding halt on the sandy bank of the river as the two
boats pulled away. Then two of them drew their bows.
Arrows sliced into the water at the stern of the boat occu-
pied by Ursid and Berengeria, and Palamon heard the
white-robed Navron scold the two archers; he could not
tell whether the censure was for shooting at such a val-
uable prize as the Princess or for missing the shot.

But at least they had escaped for the moment. Navron
tried to spur his horse into the chilly waters, but the bank
dropped off steeply, and he was forced to give up as the
boats rounded a bend and his quarry passed out of view.

There was no time for the fugitives to rejoice in that.
The river dropped into a narrow chute the way water in
a ceremonial fountain drops into the fountain's sluice. The
little boats were tossed about like walnut shells as they
were carried along; Palamon could feel his boat's skin flex
beneath him in a manner that made him uneasy.

The four novice boatmen paddled madly to keep to the
least threatening parts of the channel. But though they
raced through the canyon, they soon found that the threat
of being overturned was not great as long as they took
care with the forces that swept them dizzily along. Time
was now the threat. They had to find quieter water and
a place to beach the boats before nightfall.

For the moment they took courage in the fact that they
had once more eluded the outstretched talons of Lothar
the Pale. They had done this at a price, however; that
much became plain as the walls of the canyon closed
around them, nearly blocking out the passing sun. They

108 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

probably had lost their last chance to choose between a
land route and the clutch of this torrent that now bore
them toward an unknown fate.

It was hard work, this paddling. But there were few
stones to disrupt the flow of the hurtling waters, so the
danger was moderate. The hours passed and still they
rocked along; they could not guess the distance they had
covered, but it had to have been some leagues.

At length, the river slowed; the canyon opened out at
the bottom, though the walls still towered over them like
great, dark borders to their world in the waning light. The
day had passed and they needed to stop soon. They found
this could be done, however; Ursid spotted a low beach
on the inside of a bend in the river and that was where
they ended their flight for the day. They landed and pulled
the boats up onto dry ground.

When they had done this, Berengeria stood for a
moment, one hand over her bosom and an exhausted smile
lighting her face. "Now by my troth, that was a merry
ride. If just one stone had blocked our course this day,
we would have fed this river's fish ere now."

"Quite so but now this river's fish feed us." Ursid held
up a length of cord from which dangled the day's catch.
"I see some driftwood snags that shall make fire to cook
a hearty meal."

And so it was done. Driftwood branches were cut with
the hand axe that was part of their supplies, the fish were
prepared and cooked, and the adventurers enjoyed their
meal deep in the entrails of the canyon. And when the
meal was eaten, they rolled their blankets out on the shore
and slept the sleep of the exhausted. Here, in spite of the
efforts of their foes to find them, they were alone. They
had no idea what awaited them along this watery road.
But for the moment at least, they slept safely in this corner
of the universe, far beyond the clutches of their enemies.

The night was a peaceful one, the most peaceful they
had spent for a while. As the first glow of the next day
brightened the strip of sky far overhead, Palamon and
Berengeria found themselves watching it while Ursid and
Aelia slept. Palamon's eyes were drawn to Berengeria-

DENNIS MCCARTY           109

She was only a silhouette in the feeble light of the coming
day; still, she was pleasant to look upon. He should not
have stared at her, but he caught himself doing just that.
She fascinated him. The things that lay in her past and
the possibilities of her future both intrigued him in ways
he himself did not fully understand.

Her gaze dropped from the pale ribbon above them.
Her eyes fastened on him, and he quickly looked away.
"Your pardon, my Princess," he said.

"For what?"

He paused. Perhaps she had not noticed him gazing at
her in the shadows that filled the bottom of this gorge.
His pause turned into a long silence.

Berengeria looked about. They would soon be able to
embark, though not for a while yet. The waters of the
river were still dark; the crouching stones were still hid-
den. " 'Twill presently be light," she said. "Then we must

&o"

There was a note of weary resolve in her voice, as if
she would have stayed in this place longer if she could
have. He did not blame her. She needed a rest; the strain
of this journey was telling upon her more each day. Still,
she would not relent. She was the most driven member
of the party, in fact, and that was something he had to
admire. He found it strange to see such an overflowing
well of resolve imbedded in such luxurious beauty as
hers. "Your Highness should have slept throughout the
night," he said. "You should not force yourself to take
the watch." Then he stood up. It was time for him to be
alone.

"All backs must bear the strain till journey's end." She
smiled up at him as she answered.

That smile pleased Palamon. Princess Berengeria had
hardly spoken to him since those hard moments inside
the great tree of the wudlings. That had troubled him. He
Uked her, this iron-willed Princess; were it not for her
high position and the aura about her and, most of all, his
past, his actions toward her might have been different
from what they had been. Still, he would not dwell upon
that; that way lay despair. But the smile did mean a great

110 FUGHT TO THLASSA MEY

deal to him. "Princess, I find you are a doughty maid.
Pale Lothar's hot pursuit shall not trap you." He smiled
back at her for an instant, then turned to go.

She caught him by one hand; the pressure other fingers
was firm. "Thank you, Palamon." No more was said.
Their eyes met for less than a moment, then he went his
way while she rose to wake their companions.

When it was light enough, they started out once again.
They no longer paddled; the river's swift current carried
them at its own pace, flowing as quickly as a cantering
horse. The sides of the canyon were forty fathoms high
by now—great, brush-covered walls that loomed over
their sparkling trail. Here and there, outcroppings of the
jagged black stone jutted forth, hanging above them like
sentinels as they drifted by. And still and always the walls

loomed higher.

As the midmoming sun peeked above the rim, the sound
of roaring ahead of them warned them that their watery
highway was again going to make them work for their
escape. They approached this new rapid carefully.

It was well that they did. They beached their small
craft on a rocky patch of shore and walked downstream,
threading their way between brush and boulders until they
reached a point from which they could examine the new
obstacle. What they saw filled them with dismay- Their
way was blocked by three hundred cubits of leaping water.
Stones jutted from the spume and broad waves lashed
across the torrent, doubling back upon themselves.

"By Hestia's veil," Aelia said. 'There is no passing

this."

There was a long pause. Then Palamon spoke. "There
is a way," he said. "If my eyes play me fair, 1 see this
stony strand on which we walk extends along this bank
a goodly way. The path that we must take is full of sweat,
but there's no other, if we are to live. These craft that
bore us down along 'this stream must now be borne by

us."

"We'll carry them, you mean?" Aelia lifted her eye-
brows-

DENNIS MCC-ARTY

111

"Indeed we must."

Aelia nodded. "It is the only way. We'll to the boats
to empty them and bear them on our backs. It may require
much time and several trips but we shall then be back
upon our way." She turned to Palamon and smiled at him.
It was not the same as the smile Berengeria had bestowed
upon him earlier, however.

The portage took a long time, much longer than Pala-
mon had expected it to- He and Ursid carried each boat
in its turn while Berengeria and Aelia moved the other
goods. They had to go slowly; none of them had the desire
to turn an ankle or suffer some other injury with so far
yet to go.

The sun continued his flight, carried ever farther aloft
in his fiery chariot; the day grew warmer as the fugitives
labored. Palamon grimaced as sweat trickled into his eyes.
He paused long enough to wipe it away, then he and Ursid
moved on. Once they were past the rapids and afloat
again, all four of them relaxed from their labors, paddling
only hard enough to steer their craft-

As the day wore on, they did not pause for a midday
meal but ate the remainder of their fish without going
ashore. It was well they did. Early in the afternoon they
encountered another rapid, this one more dangerous than
the other. This time they did not hesitate for discussion,
for there was no question they would have to portage
once more.

So it was all done again. They went through the tedious
process of unloading the boats and transporting them over
the rocks to a place where they dared to reembark. This
series of rapids was long and treacherous, and it was late
in the day before it was passed; the sun had already slipped
beyond the canyon rim and the swift waters before them
were often hidden by shadows. The delays were mad-
dening, It was the fastest water that slowed them the
most, surely allowing the men of Lothar the Pale to gain
ground.

But rather than continue on in total darkness, they

112      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

were forced to spend the night on the sand spit they now
occupied. It was not an easy choice. The clammy sand
and its resident army of insects made an unfriendly river
seem almost hospitable.

Chapter Twelve:

Wild Waters

THE FOUR ADVENTURERS passed an unpleasant night.
On the sandbar that was their temporary refuge, there
was no dry place; therefore, they spread their blankets
and lay down on the moist sand itself. As they had long
done, two of them slept while the other two stood watch.
But on this night, those who watched obtained nearly as
much rest as those who tried to sleep.

The damp sand was moist to the touch and there was
no escape from its clamminess. No matter how one lay,
the dank smell rose to the nostrils and the grains clung
to the skin each time the body was shifted. An acre of
robes could not have provided warmth under such con-
ditions and the four travelers had only one blanket apiece.

At dawn they were off once more. They fished as they
floated along, hoping to catch the makings of a hot lunch,
but they had no success. That was bad. They had all
agreed on the wisdom of supplementing their rations when
possible and looked on restlessly as those supplies shrank.

As the day passed, the canyon became deeper. They

113

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

114

were forced to portage past one more rapid, but they made
good time until afternoon. Then they entered a place where
the river was compressed into a narrow channel; the cur-
rent accelerated and sent them shooting along the racing

flood.

There was no place for them to land, so they were
forced to paddle- This they did with might and main, using
all their newfound skills to keep themselves upright as
they flew past the canyon walls at the pace of the swiftest
stallion. It was a breathless ride,

They survived it, however, as they had survived the
similar one after encountering the riders at the river's
edge. But at the foot of this rapid, they were greeted by
a sight vastly different from anything they had encoun-
tered before.

No longer did their river flow through a lush canyon
carpeted by thick-set brush and small trees wherever a
foothold could be maintained upon the granite walls. Here
the banks were of stone only, and what a different sort
of stone it was- it was a pale gray color and so dull on
the surface that it scarcely seemed to be stone at all, but
great heaps of ash or dust. Nor were these ugly walls as
high as the looming palisades that had formed the channel
before; they barely extended above the heads of the four
travelers.

"By Hestia's veil, what manner of land is this?" Aelia
said, her voice hanging in the dead air- "I see no scrap of
green within the full range of my view."

No one answered. All eyes scanned the lifeless hills,
what little could be seen of them from the river's breast.
At last Palamon spoke- "From the low setting, we will
never see the broad expanse of this mysterious land."

"That may be so," Berengeria said, "but do we have
the time to look about with foemen on our trail?"

"An honest question," Palamon responded.

They paddled on for a time. There was no change in
the terrain; the powdery gray hills floated by silently.
There was no bird or beast to be seen within the range
of their eight eyes.

The sun glided toward the western horizon, his chariot

DENNIS MCCARTY

115

hastening as his two steeds viewed the end of the day's
journey. Now Palamon spoke again. "This day. Princess,
let me make a request that we take shore while there is
still some light. I fain would view the land which we must
cross."

The air was full of the pause as Berengeria considered
her reply. She finally consented in a soft voice. "As you
may wish."

Now it was Palamon who hesitated. The consent to
stop while there was still light had obviously been wrung
from the maiden most grudgingly. "Then," he said, "we
should beach our craft when next we spy a place with
driftwood suitable for fire." By that much, at least, their
time on the water would be extended.

"I think that would be wise." Aelia nodded her agree-
ment.

The wait was a short one. There were many beaches
along this desolate stretch of water where trees, carried
down by floods from the river's upper course, lay piled
upon the sand. They found one while the sun's golden
rim still glimmered above the hills to the west.

No sooner had they beached their trusty little craft
than Palamon announced he was going for a walk. "Ursid,
if you will cut a portion of this wood, then I will play the
truant, running off to climb yon hill to survey how this
land might lie."

Ursid agreed. "In just a moment I can hew enough to
last us through the night. You three go on, then I will join
you."

Palamon, Aelia, and Berengeria followed the gently
rising terrain up from the riverbank to a hill that stood
higher than its neighbors. Like all the others in this land,
it was a flat-topped, roughly carved mound. They walked
quickly to the top of it. There they were greeted by a
ghastly sight.

If the clinkers, ash and half-burned fuel from all the
coai furnaces there had ever been or would ever be in
any world were spread from horizon to horizon in one
place, it would barely have matched the sight spread out
before them. They stood on one of the numerous low hills

116

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

that dotted the slopes of a dreary valley, many leagues
across. There was nothing but desolation. The entire plain
was composed of the same ashlike stuff, except for a few
conical mounds that stuck up to the north, silver and black
in the rays of the setting sun. Some of them smoked.

Nowhere was there any sign of life. It was a dead
valley, rimmed on the near side by the jutting cliffs through
which the river had swept them. The cliffs loomed impos-
ingly, broken only by the gash cut into them by the stream

itself.

A breath slipped from Aelia's throat. "The Cauldron

of the Stilchis. By the gods, it does exist as legendry

portrays."

"But never, in the dark recesses glimpsed within my

darkest dreams, could I conceive a place of desolation
such as this." Berengeria's tone was also subdued.

Palamon said nothing, nor did the two women speak
again. There was nothing more to say; the appearance of
this blasted land beggared any attempt at commentary.
Wordlessly, the trio retraced their steps toward Ursid,
. who could still be heard breaking and chopping driftwood

for their evening's fuel-

As they descended, Aelia found words. "Withal, there
is some benefit in this; those cliffs are quite unbroken
save for that deep chasm which has led us to this place.
The Cauldron of the Stilchis. That same name was whis-
pered to me when I was a girl. It lies upon the south shore
of the sea, the ancient legends stated- Here it is, more
awesome than those whispered women's tales could e'er
have thought of being, so say I."

"Quite awesome," Palamon agreed-

"A long dead land, inhabited by none," Aelia looked
at Berengeria- 'There are, 1 understand, few ways to enter,
fewer still to exit; that is what the legends say. But if that
be the case, pursuit is blocked until the men of Lothar
find a way to follow us. As no one will deny, no land-
bom creature ever enters here the way we came, save

floating as a corpse."

"I still can feel the arm of Alyubol," Berengeria said.

"He seems to find us any place we flee."

DENNIS McCARTY

117

"His quantity cannot be ascertained, that much I must
admit," Aelia said. "Yet men must eat and horses must
have forage or they fall."

"And I agree," Palamon said. "What Alyubol's next
move may be, we cannot know; still, our next move is
easily discerned. We have no choice except the course
we hold, to follow this swift stream down to the Thiassa
Mey."

Aelia nodded.

"Is this the Stilchis. then?" Berengeria asked.

"Though we've no way of telling, 1 think not," Aelia
said. "The legends all describe a mightly flood; this mid-
dling river does not seem to me to have the means of
carving out this land."

While they spoke, they approached Ursid to tell him
of their discovery. He was impressed, for he too had heard
the stories of a land seldom entered by men. Palamon
relieved him of his chores and he ran the way they had
come to see for himself. He soon returned; it was nearly
dark by now but he had seen enough, even in the failing
light. "It is a barren land," he said as he walked toward
them, shaking his head- "I wonder how a creature could
exist which might be tough enough to spend its life within
this land of cinders."

"True," Palamon said as he knelt to make a fire. "That
question will pertain to us, as well. We must needs hus-
band well our meager stores."

The others agreed. Then Berengeria asked if the camp-
fire should even be lit; they had used one rarely in the
past for fear of detection.

Palamon shrugged. "If danger is perceived, then this
bright flame can be forgone. Still, evil Alyubol has found
us thrice before in spite of all precautions tried by us. I
doubt that one more fire in such a land of smoke and fire
will make a difference. The point is this—our enemies
have shown they have the means to track us without sight
by eye. Mayhap they watch us even as we speak. But
though they track us, they'll not reach us here, for horse-
men ne'er could ride across that plain that we have gazed

118

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

upon today. And boatmen cannot make a better passage

than we have."

Then he smiled at Berengeria and winked. "So take
that, Lothar; Alyubol, you, too. And you. Princess, may
make whatever disrespectful, crude, and unenlightened
gesture you would like. Although they might well see,
your enemies cannot, at least for some time, do a thing."

Berengeria smiled at him. It was a pleasant expression,
this smile of hers, much like the way she had looked at
him that other morning. "Your humor buoys my heart up.
Palamon. Whatever lies behind you in the past, you've
done a noble service for my sake and that will be remem-
bered, come what may."

"Ah, my past." Palamon's own smile changed a bit. It
hardened, became stiff, became camouflage for what lay
behind it; the other members of the party had seen this

before.

"Forgive me, for I feel I've done offence," Berengeria

said.

Palamon shook his head. "No, fear that not. Princess,
for my own past may see me where I hide, as can our
foes. But like our foemen, there is not a way that it can
reach me here within this place."

Aelia had seated herself on a driftwood log and was
watching Palamon as he spoke- He was interesting to
watch. "Are you quite sure it cannot reach you here?"

she asked.

Palamon did not answer. He merely shrugged and con-
tinued to build the fire.

They ate, washed, then retired. At dawn, they again
took to their trusty boats and resumed their journey
through the mysterious, desolate land that was called the
Cauldron of the Stilchis.

The river flowed smoothly now, having completed its
transit of the cliffs that rimmed this valley. But its course
was disconcerting. By all their calculations, there was no
doubt they would still lie many leagues south of the Thiassa
Mey. If this stream emptied into that sea, it had to turn
eventually to reach it. Yet it showed no inclination toward
doing so. Through the day it meandered to the south and

DENNIS MCCARTY

119

southwest, showing no respect at all for the course logic
dictated.

The day was passed in steady paddling, for there were
no rapids along this stretch of river. The water was flat
and the current constant. For hours, the dreary banks
slipped by while the four fugitives trailed their fishing lines
in the water. Few fish were caught along this stretch of
liquid highway, barely enough to provide them with an
evening meal when they stopped for the night.

It was the same the next day. Still the river slid along,
always toward the southwest; but after noon, it finally
began to flow more quickly. They were descending into
another canyon. They paddled carefully, trying to take
advantage of the swift current without risking an upset in
any of the riffles they passed through as they rushed
downstream. There were no really dangerous rapids here,
only bars stretching out toward the center of the stream,
compressing it.

Down and down they went. The walls of this canyon
exceeded in height those cliffs they had passed earlier.
The river had carved its way through the coarse gray stone
that had contained it up till now and their way lay between
walls that were a flat, forbidding black.

Their canyon had become a narrow gorge, but on a
monstrous scale. The wails towered above them for a
hundred fathoms, forming a megalithic corridor where
there was no place to land. Then they rounded a bend in
this canyon to find that it intersected another one which
was even deeper and grander.

' Before they could react, they were swept into the great
river that plunged through the larger chasm. The current
here was swifter than in the river they had left and they
had to struggle to keep from being swept onto jagged
rocks. The water raged about them, geysering up as it
struck huge boulders, filling the air with spray, and shoot-
ing over concealed barriers to fall back upon itself. It
heaved itself up into frothy heaps all around them, filling
their ears with roaring and making their little boats jump
and quiver, the hide hulls flexing beneath them as the
staunch craft were brutally buffeted.

120      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Berengeria and Ursid were in the first boat; Aelia and
Palamon followed in the second. There was no panic in
any of them because there was no time for panic. They
strained at their tasks, guiding their craft through the
treacherous waters, sweat mixing with the spray and froth
that drenched their bodies.

Now the end of the rapid was in sight. There was a
great boulder in the middle of the channel and the water
surged away from it in both directions; it was a brutal
obstacle. But beyond it, quieter water could be seen. As
they were swept down upon the boulder, Ursid and Ber-
engeria tried to go to the right of it but the tricky current
slapped them back. Palamon saw this and steered to the
left. But it was too late for the couple in the lead boat to
change course; the heaving waters carried them over the
top of the boulder itself.

With a cry, Ursid and Berengeria were thrown into the
air; their craft was hurled free of the water, turning over
in flight before plunging into the river. All the contents
of the boat rained down. Then the boat bobbed to the
surface once more and could be seen half-sinking as it
swept toward a driftwood covered sandbar lying down-
stream. Of the two passengers, nothing could be seen

except foam.

With herculean effort, Palamon and Aelia guided their
own craft toward the same sandbar. The task became
simpler as the current slowed and they reached it at almost
the same time as the empty boat.

But what of Berengeria and Ursid? Palamon leaped
from his own craft and pulled it up onto the sand, all the
while searching for them with his eyes. Aelia Joined him,
her face mummified with fear for the life of her charge.

A dark spot appeared in the foam before them. It was
the head of Ursid, breaking above the waves as he swam,
and his efforts were being hampered by Berengeria's drag-
ging weight. He swam for the sandbar upon which Pala-
mon and Aelia stood but it was easy to see that his mighty
effort would be in vain; he was going to be swept past by

the current.

Aelia was shouting something but Palamon could not

DENNIS McCARTY

121

hear her above the roaring of the water and the ringing
in his own ears. There was no time to think. He grasped
a piece of driftwood, a long, crooked pole, and ran to the
end of the sandbar to extend it toward the swimmers. But
as the pair was swept nearer, he could not hold the pole
against the current. Hurriedly, he drew it in and picked
it up again for another try. They were almost past him,
now.

Shouting to them, hardly hearing Aelia's cries, he held
the driftwood staff out once more. The end plunged beneath
the surface and he feared he had missed again. Then he
felt a tug; Ursid had managed to grasp it after all.

Palamon pulled the two castaways in carefully. Then
he and Aelia sent the water flying as they dashed to drag
them onto dry sand, grasping Berengeria first, then Ursid,
and pulling them both out of danger. Ursid was half
drowned and he lay gasping, his eyes rolled back and his
sides heaving like a freshly landed fish rather than a freshly
saved human. But for all that, he began to recover.

As for Berengeria, she lay in Aelia's lap without mov-
ing. Aelia cradled her, rocking her back and forth, speak-
ing to her softly. The older woman was frantic; she seemed
about to lose her mind. Her eyes were glassy and her
black hair had been swept into a wild fury by the ordeal.
Her eyes became venomous and she glared up at Palamon.
"All Knights of Pallas demonstrate the art of healing. Heal
her, heal her, make her live once more."

The words stung Palamon like the gravel-laced mud
hurled at him many years before. Aelia had caught him
by surprise; he could not hide the pain she had inflicted.
"You know that I cannot."

"Aye, that I do. Your power to restore was given up
for barter of a trim-set pair of thighs- Away from me, you
fragment; let me be alone with my dead child and my own
grief."

But Palamon did not go away. Instead, he knelt in the
sand; he touched the throat of the young woman, held
the back of his rough hand beneath her nostrils. "But she
still lives, though not for long unless we act at once." He
took her from Aelia and stretched her nerveless form upon

122      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the sand, her body inclined down the slope of the beach
with her head toward the water. Kneeling once more, he
turned her face to one side, placed an arm beneath the
small of her back, and lifted a bit. Water dribbled from

her ashen lips-

Aelia sat watching him, her eyes glazed by shock. But
when Palamon lowered his head and placed his mouth
over Berengeria's, Aelia leaped upon him like a harpy.
"Away, you loathsome cur. How dare you bring dishonor
to her form with these caresses, all uncalled for? Take
your once-befouled lips away. 'Tis most unspeakable, the
thing you try to do." She clawed at his shoulders.

With one hand he shoved her backward. She stumbled
and fell onto the sand but was upon him once more, with
more fury than the first time. He whirled upon his knees
in the sand and pulled her down with him; this time it
was he who shouted. "Away yourself, mad woman- Hear
me now. My patron, good, gray Pallas, has revoked my
healing powers for my crime. But still I know some arts,
taught long ago to me while I was just a young cadet. I
simply breathe the life back into her. If I should fail, it's
not for lack of care. Do not compound my crime by flaying
me with words while you prevent my true attempt."

Aelia relented. The strength had gone from her; she
sat silently in the sand and watched, her eyes still nar-
rowed at the tall knight. But she did not leap upon him
again. For his part, Palamon turned back to the limp body
and placed his mouth over Berengeria's once more,
breathing his breath into her, causing her pale cheeks to
puff out with the action. Her bosom rose with the force
of the breath, straining the thin robe that covered it. He
repeated the act, then repeated it again. He continued for
what seemed a lifetime longer than the one he had already
lived; she had to be saved; otherwise, all meaning was
lost and the aura of destiny about her meant nothing.
Finally, his breath was met by one other own, then another.

Her bosom rose by itself now, though it was only a
shallow movement. Her eyes fluttered open; she rolled
to one side and coughed- Then she attempted to rise. He

DENNIS MCCARTY           123

restrained her, holding a broad hand across her shoulder.
"Lie still. Princess, for rest is what you need."

Emotions rained from Aelia's face. Relief and joy
warred with astonishment, but in a trice she was at the
side of her charge. "Princess, Princess, how hard a time
it was, for I had thought you lost beyond recall."

Berengeria said nothing; she was still groggy. Aelia
held her dripping head in her lap, stroking the amber curls
that were dark with water. Palamon stepped away. There
was no longer a need for him, at least for the moment,
for Aelia would care for Berengeria well enough. And
Aelia's outburst had been enough to remind him of the
real place he held in her thoughts, for all her outward
cordiality. All the same, he was relieved that Berengeria
lived. She had come to mean much to him, perhaps more
than he would have admitted had she asked him his opin-
ion of her.

He turned to Ursid, who stood and watched. Ursid
shook his broad, youthful head and spat into the sand,
trying to clear his throat and mouth of the water and mud
he had inhaled. "By all the gods, I feared we both were
lost. She struck her head as we set out for shore and I
could not believe we would survive."

"To cling to your Princess was quite heroic," Palamon
said. "'Twas surely done at peril of your life."

Ursid's dripping face fairly glowed. "But such a woman
merits well the wager of a life."

Palamon smiled back at him. Ursid was very young
and very bold. And he was, indeed, enthralled by Ber-
'engeria. It was to be wished that this youthful warrior
could pass without too many scars and blows the gauntlet
of slings and arrows he would face during his life's jour-
ney. The oxides of passing years, Palamon knew, could
do much to dim any man's lamp.

They approached the two women together. Berengeria
was still lying with her head in Aelia's lap but her eyes
were clear now and her breathing was regular. She reached
out and touched Palamon's ankle. "Good Palamon, I'm
told you cheated fate by breathing life into my breathless
body."

124 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Palamon looked down at her and stepped back. "Prin-
cess, I only did what 1 was taught to aid the life to cling
to your fair form- Ursid's the one who saved you, hauling
you heroically across this torrent's foam. I merely

watched,"

Berengeria's eyes moved from Palamon to Ursid and
then back again. "1 am surrounded by such worthy friends,
and all have done great service for my sake. You make
my life seem small, the three of you- With such a band
as this, we cannot fail, though Lothar, Alyubol, and all
of nature's barriers block our way." Her eyes filled over
as she looked up at them. It was indeed a pretty moment,
set like a jewel into the stone of travail that had been
theirs these past days.

But the moment had to pass. Palamon and Ursid still
had to gather wood and a meal had to be prepared, for
they dared go no further until Berengeria had been given
a night to recover from her ordeal. But preparation of a
meal was difficult now that the stores from the first boat
were lost. All the flour was gone, much of the fishing
equipment, some of the cooking utensils, and even Ursid's
hand axe. Although they found the boat itself undamaged,
those losses would hobble them as they entered the realm
of the great river they had to follow.

For it was plain that the river they had left behind had
in truth been but a tributary stream. Only now had they
reached the mighty Stilchis itself. And after this first taste
of its ways, there was no doubt that it would challenge
them, extending them to the limits of their skill and endur-
ance. The subject was not discussed through the after-
noon and evening. Still, hidden in each of them was the
hope that the coming contest with this powerful torrent
would not become mortal combat.

Chapter Thirteen;

The Stilchis

IN THE MORNING they rose, dined on some of the food
they had left, and took the time to whittle rude new pad-
dles from driftwood. They divided their meager supplies
between the two little boats. After all, the first rapid they
had encountered had shown what could happen to either
of the small craft at any time; they could not hazard the
loss of all their provisions on the fate of one boat. Finally,
they embarked.

Once afloat, they were carried by the swift waters of
the great river into a strange, desolate world none of them
ever could have imagined. The walls of the canyon loomed
hundreds of fathoms above the foam of the torrent which
had carved them. In some places, the walls were a dull
brown or black; in others, they sparkled and reflected
colors from black to red.

Later in the day, the boats entered a stretch of canyon
where the roiling waters had exposed a towering expanse
of black glass- On their right, this crystal wall soared to
dizzy heights. The water was dotted with shining, jagged

125

126

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

boulders of the stuff where it had been carved off by the
river's action. On the left, there was only stone. But the
sheet of jet glass formed a singular mirror, reflecting all
that passed it for miles. They could see themselves as
they paddled. Their actions were made grotesque by the
shining undulations of the glass but no motion was lost.

Aelia found she could study herself quite closely. She
could study herself and she could also study the move-
ments of the heavy shoulders in front of her and the rip-
pling of the muscles in the broad back, both as an image
on the canyon wall and as the living, sweating man only
cubits away from her. Palamon had discarded his tattered
gray cloak in the heat of the day and now wore only his
chain mail, its shining links forming a second skin as he

labored -

Aelia regretted her outburst of the day before. There

could be no doubt her words had cut Palamon to the quick.
That was too bad; whatever he may have done in the past,
there could also be no doubt his conduct had been hon-
orable in the time she had known him. She regretted her
harsh words and she wished she had never spoken them.
Stilt, knowing what she did of the tall knight, she doubted
that it would have been useful to bring the matter up again
by apologizing. So she did not broach the subject. She
paddled silently, studying his mail-bound shoulders.

It was odd that he retained this mail, rather than the
gray robe and mourning cloak; Ursid had discarded the
mail beneath his uniform long ago. Palamon's mail weighed
less than Ursid's but, if there were an accident, it would
surely make survival in the water difficult, in spite of its
lightness and flexibility. It was true that a Knight of Pallas
would never have thought of removing his lustrous hau-
berk, the badge of his order, in the presence of another
human being. But this did not apply to Palamon. By his
own admission, he had been expelled from that order,

Why, then, did he still retain the old custom? His armor
was of no use to him at this moment; it only posed a
danger. She could not resist drawing his attention to this
fact, "Brave Palamon, why do you still enfold yourself
with mail? It seems to be unwise. I shall avert my gaze

DENNIS MCCARTY

127

••^•,

€'
I

if you desire to doff your hauberk's weight and don your
cloak."

"If you would like, I shall put on my cloak."

"Twould be far better in an accident."

"Then I will do it." He put down his paddle and she
closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was
surprised to see that he had not doffed the mail at all; he
had merely put the mourning cloak on over it. He looked
back at her and smiled, though she could see the sweat
already beginning to bead up on his face. "There. Now
are you pleased?"

Aelia found his strained humor not amusing. "I had no
wish to joke at such a thing. Your armor's just a hindrance
to you now."

He looked straight ahead, still paddling steadily. "I
wear no armor- Discipline your eyes."

His tone was flat, final. It left no doubt that he wished
to discuss the matter no further and it led her mind back
to the other times he had sheered away from discussion
of his past as a Knight of Pallas. It certainly was a tender
subject to him. That was understandable. But why, then,
did he still maintain the traditions of his former order—
the morning prayers, the rites of cleanliness, the wearing
of the armor? Would it not have been less painful to him
if he had discarded them altogether?

So Aelia pondered. Perhaps the rites were not painful
after all but were comforting instead, patterns he had
known all his life. Perhaps he refused to have them torn
away by what had happened to him. Perhaps the rites and
customs comforted him and it was only when they were
questioned that they brought him pain. In that case, the
sin was hers for broaching the subject. There was enough
nobility in him to merit the privacy of his own past, what-
ever secrets the past might have contained.

Again her mind returned to the day before. She had
hurt him deeply then with her reaction to his touching
with his lips the tender mouth of Berengeria. To be sure,
she had been half crazed with exhaustion, grief, and fear
at the time, but that still had not lessened the pain her
words had inflicted. Now her words had doubtless brought

128      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

him pain again. And physical discomfort, too. They had
caused him to don his cloak over his armor in the midday
heat; there was little chance he would take the heavy
garment off after the words that had passed between them.

He was such a strange, tortured man. What could she
say to him? She needed to say something. "This line of
talk disturbs you, Palamon. I'll not unearth the subject
anymore, except to say when I spoke yesterday, I raved
without my thoughts because I feared for our Princess'
life. What I said then I still regret. Have peace and try to

live beyond your past."

"My past life does not fret me. It is those about me
who have always marked it most."

A bitter remark. Yet that was part of the fascination
of Palamon; he refused to discuss his past yet he also
refused to part with it. "Was she quite pretty, Palamon?"
The words had leaped out by themselves. Aelia had allowed
herself a lapse, her curiosity had caused her to put the lie
to her thoughts and intentions of the past moments- She
was not sure whether to curse herself or probe farther.

The only response from the seat in front of her was a
momentary catch in the rhythm of Palamon's paddling.
The silence lasted for a long, tense time. When he did
speak, he spoke in clipped tones, expelling one word after
another, pouring the thoughts from the crucible of his
mind to be coined into phrases, and presented to her
grudgingly, like a tithe. "She was as pretty as most other
maids one sees a-washing clothes at some small village
stream or berry picking by a road."

But Aelia had to know more. She could not resist the      ^
urge to drive in the wedge she had inserted between Paia-      ^
mon and his silence about his past. "Did you suspect when      H
you crossed paths with her that you would jeopardize      \-
your rank and creed?"

There was another long silence. When he spoke again,
it was with the tone of someone begging for a ghastly      ^
wound to be dressed- "My Lady, do not make me tread      ^
that path. Please let me turn aside, avert my eyes from      -^
all the shadows which are found that way."                 |^
She could not ask more; she would have had to be a     :J

DENNIS McCARTY

129

torturer to do that. His eyes stared forward; it was doubt-
ful that he would have looked at her even if he could
have. But there had been no mistaking the pain in his
voice. He had told her next to nothing, yet her sympathy
for him warred with her excitement; she had gained some-
thing more than information- At last she had pierced, if
only for the moment, the citadel behind which Paiamon
lay hidden.

And she had learned a little, too. The mystery that was
Palamon would be unraveled; she was now sure of that,
for she was beginning to know his mind. She had seen
his eyes linger on Berengeria's figure and had caught him
glancing at herself as well. There was no doubt he was
moved by the curve of a hip or the taper of a thigh; his
instincts were those of any man.

Still, a Knight of Pallas was not allowed to indulge his
instincts, though some did fail to hold their urges in check.
Chastity was no easy vow to keep; as a priestess of Hestia,
Aelia was aware of the difficulties. It was remarkable that
more of Palamon's order had not fallen. She could not
find it in her to censure him overmuch.

But how had he fallen? Always the search for the man
inside Palamon returned to this question. Had Otar been
right? Had Palamon's fall been simply a 'half-hour indis-
cretion,' a momentary breakdown? Had he and his par-
amour met more than once? Surely this affair could never
have been worth expulsion from the order within which
he had spent his entire life. Yes, she could comprehend
his actions; perhaps she would have acted in the same
way had she ever made the same mistake. Perhaps, had
she been he, she would also have worn the old armor of
the order.

So she pondered. Then she turned to another subject,
guiding conversation away from Palamon's past. People
who were as close together as they were forced to be in
their little boats needed to talk about something, and what
a person said about the weather could sometimes reveal
as much as what he said about himself.

They struck more rapids, running their boats through
those they dared, portaging around those that looked too

130

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

rough for passage. The stores they carried with them grew
lighter and required less time to carry now, but there was
no solace in that; the meager provisions were all they had
left until they reached the end of this great stream. And
none of them knew when that would be.

Indeed, all enjoyment had gone out of their waterbome
travel now. It was dull, endless labor, a race against time
and against the men who pursued them. The smoothest
waters forced them to paddle and delayed them madden-
ingly- The fastest waters were full of rapids which delayed

them even more.

For days they watched their supplies dwindle as they
passed through the endless corridor of this canyon. The
glass cliffs were left behind. Their clothing became rag-
ged, the gray cloak of Palamon most of all, until he dis-
carded it. The fishing was good some days, poor others,
but it never stopped the depletion of what little food they
had left. When the stores were gone, fish was all they ate;

on days when they caught nothing, they did not eat at all.

They were nearing the end of their tether. Tempers
shortened; each person became nervous. They grew silent,
seldom speaking to one another. Where they had been a
cohesive, if tiny, force, they now assumed the driven look
of four separate beings, each one simply trying to survive.

At this point, they encountered another rapid, one more
of the series that they had battled. This one was especially
difficult. Approaching it, they could see that it was very
treacherous and that the sheer walls on each side pre-
vented any attempt to portage around it.

All hearts sank. But there seemed yet a way; there was
a jagged stone sticking out of the water at the head of the
rapid and to this point Palamon clung, securing his craft
as best he could while Aelia motioned Ursid and Beren-
geria to come alongside. They still possessed a quantity
of rope and that was the key to Palamon's suggestion.

There were many rocks jutting from the exploding
waters of this rapid. As the boat bucked beneath him,
Palamon tied one end of the rope to the jagged stone which
held them against the current and laid out his plan to the
others. It was simple. Palamon and Aelia would take the

DENNIS MCCARTY

131

end of the rope and proceed into the rapid while their
partners paid the line out. Once they had reached the
relative refuge of another boulder, they would tie to it
and allow Ursid and Berengeria to set out, swinging past
the first boat until they, in their turn, could tie off and the
process could be repeated once more. And so it would
go, the boats leapfrogging through the rapid until they
could reach quiet water. It was a risky plan. But it was
the one they had to use, for no one in the party could
produce a better one.

Before they began, they examined the length of rope
for places that might have been frayed or badly braided;

their lives depended upon it now and none of them desired
to be at the mercy of a weak strand. This task was quickly
performed and they had to begin.

Palamon and Aelia let go and paddled heartily to guide
their boat toward the next likely looking boulder. The
boat bucked and bounded, its light hull twisting as the
waves pummeled it. But they reached their goal safely.
Then it was the turn of Berengeria and Ursid, who set
. out bravely into the raging torrent, passed close to the
[; rock that sheltered Palamon and Aelia, took up the slack
!i- Hne, and brought their craft up against another point sixty
; or eighty cubits farther downstream.

The procedure was repeated once, then again. They
were gaining ground against the rapid; soon they would
be through it. But all was not well. As Palamon and Aelia
set out for the last leg of their passage, Palamon noticed
that they had brought their light craft against the last rock
too sharply and the hide covering was torn. This was a
'catastrophe- The rip in the hull grew with every blow
from the river and the water poured in, already soaking
: their legs. He had to shout to make himself heard above
the roar of the rapid. "Our craft is lost. Do you know how
to swim?"

"All those swim well, who hail from Artos* shores."
There was no time to say more; the boat had already
oecome unmanageable. It turned broadside to the current
and over it went, spilling them out along with all its other
contents. But there was no time to mourn its passing;

132 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Palamon and Aelia had to swim, swim now, and swim for
their lives.

Palamon was finally concerned for his chain mail. Light
as it was, it would still be a liability in the water. He found
it to be less so than he might have feared, however: the
current swept him along so swiftly that he could not sink;

he was carried with it, turned topsy-turvy, and spun like
a shuttlecock, with no time to swim or think. In fact, the
metal covering served him well once, as the current
wrapped him around another boulder, beating the wind
from his lungs and forcing him to struggle to keep from
being pinned and drowned. He hoped Aelia had not met
such an obstacle, but there was no chance for him to look
for her.

Desperately, he worked his way toward the river bank,
where the current raged less and the water was shallower.
Water surged all around him. Sometimes it pushed him
toward the surface, other times it sucked him toward the
bottom, prying at his clenched teeth. But he was not over-
come, though he began to wonder how long he could hold
onto his senses.

After what seemed an eternity, he felt something new;

his foot struck the bottom. Then his hand did the same.
He had reached the shallow water; he would soon be safe.

The river bottom was hard stone, but it was firm foot-
ing, and he was able to scramble to his feet and wade
toward shore, looking about for signs of Aelia and the
other boat. In so doing, he saw that Aelia had also reached
the shore, some yards downstream from him. She had
survived her dunking well. She sat and watched him as
he staggered toward her; they both gasped for breath and
her soaked, tattered clothing clung to her like fur to a wet
dog. But at least she was alert and upright.

The other boat could also be seen, Ursid and Beren-
geria battling their way through the last stages of the rapid.
They paddled heroically while the spume churned about
them. Sometimes they would disappear beneath the waves,
only to reappear, rowing as hard as ever. It made a striking
sight, one not to be forgotten, as they fought their way
through the last leaping waves and turned their craft toward

DENNIS McCARTY

133

quieter water and the shoreline fifty cubits below Palamon
and Aelia.

The four fugitives quickly rejoined. Each was relieved
that they had survived; there was much backslapping and
Aelia and Berengeria hugged one another, their drenched
clothing raining water. But relief became despair as they
counted their losses.

One boat was gone; Ursid said he and Berengeria had
watched the sinking craft smash into a rock, then twist
away and float downstream, a shattered wreck. And with
it had gone half of their remaining stores, including all
the fishing gear. Now there would be no more food nor
decent means of getting any. Fishing line could, perhaps,
have been made, but that was useless without hooks. And
of the knives they had been given, only one remained.

Gloom descended upon them but Berengeria remon-
strated against it. "We must continue. Always, there is
hope- I'll not believe the gods will now allow us all to
perish in this lonely place, not after we have battled odds
so long. We shall survive. These cliffs must hold some
life, though it be lizard, snake, or thing more foul. We
shall survive. And I have heard you say, 0 Palamon, that
suffering is a privilege, withal, for one may only suffer
while he lives."

"Princess. I have said that," Palamon admitted.

"Then we'll continue, suffer though we may." Beren-
geria's lip jutted out stubbornly, and Palamon looked at
her. At this, the lowest ebb of the group's misfortunes,
she most showed her noble nature, her willingness to
grapple with fate's adversities. She was more tenacious
than ever.

So they set out again the next morning. The four of
them now were crammed into the narrow confines of their
remaining boat. They did not dare paddle, other than to
keep the craft pointed downstream, and they could brave
only the most moderate waters. This did not hinder them
for the moment, however- Having vented its rage in the
last rapid, the river now seemed content to carry them
along smoothly, its rolling surface reflecting the narrow

134 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

patch of sky and the separated canyon walls towering

above them.

They floated on for the rest of the day, encountering
no water more challenging than what they had already
passed since the loss of their other boat. With the coming
of darkness, they pulled out onto a narrow patch of shore
that lay between the canyon wall and the left bank of the
river. The night that they then had to pass became more
of a battle than the last miles of river they had followed-
They had eaten nothing since morning and that meal had
been meager. Now the hunger gnawed at them, invading
their fitful dreams and making even a short snatch of sleep

a rare prize.

In the morning they all went hunting in the rocks,
climbing about the cliff face in hopes of finding any living
thing that could be turned into a meal. There was nothing.
The rocks were as lifeless as they were dreary.

Since there was nothing more to be done about it, they
reembarked. They floated along the smooth crest of the
river, always keeping a sharp lookout for anything that
could relieve their distress.

The canyon began to change as they floated onward.
The walls still towered against the sky but the confor-
mation had become more moderate; they no longer soared
up from the water's edge but sloped back at an angle and
were cut brutally by ravines and hollows, and the river
became wider. The current flowed ever more slowly, and
an occasional sandbar appeared in the midst of the broad
water. They drifted through the morning, midday, and into
the afternoon, watching the water lap a finger's, length
from the gunwale of their tiny craft. Each person was
alone with his own thoughts and his gnawing hunger.

Then suddenly Ursid cried out. "Look up, up there."

Palamon followed the line of the younger man's
extended arm. The cliff face on their left would soon be
deserted by the setting sun and there was, indeed, some-
thing there. A building rested in a hollow, lonely and out
of place amid the desolation. It looked like a temple. The
lines of columns that formed the front and sides of the

DENNIS McCARTY

135

structure were crumbling and weathered; some had actu-
ally fallen, and there was no sign of life anywhere.

What was this place? How long had it been there, this
huge and ancient pile? What would await them if they
entered? The questions were meaningless; they were des-
perate and they had no choice but to investigate the place,
if they were to have any hope of survival.

Without hesitating, they turned their boat to the shore
below the mysterious structure. They pulled the craft up
onto the beach and prepared to explore, Ursid hefting
their remaining knife and Palamon grasping one of the
paddles for use as a club, for lack of any better weapon.

The building was no longer visible; it loomed out of
sight above the projecting cliffs at the water's edge. But
a well-worn path led up from where they stood. None of
them doubted where the path ended and they had no
choice but to follow it, no matter what dangers lay in wait
at the other end. Though they might discover Lothar's
men, AlyuboTs men, Alyubol himself, or some other grisly
thing, such lurking hazards made no difference. To leave
this place unexplored, to keep blindly journeying along
these endless canyons, now presented as great a danger
as anything that could lie before them.

Chapter Fourteen:

The Temple

THE TRAIL up from the beach was chipped into the
naked face of the cliff and appeared as ancient as
the stone in which it was set. While the chisel marks at the
side of the trail were still visible, the trail itself had been
worn smooth; the center had been worn until it was lower
than the edges by the treading of generations of feet.

It was steep and it seemed to wind forever upward.
The party stopped to rest twice, for they did not wish to
be caught breathless and off guard at the top. They fol-
lowed its course cautiously as it wound into a vertical
crevice in the cliff and then out around a prominent point;

Palamon guessed that they now stood directly below the
building they sought.

The trail became narrower as they climbed. They
ascended to a dizzy height and they shrank against the
cliff face, for the trail was only the width of a man's
shoulders; a fall would have been a matter of bounding
to rocks waiting beside the river a hundred fathoms below.

Then they rounded a last bend in the trail and found

136

DENNIS MCCARTY              137

themselves before the building itself. It was huge, even
larger than it had looked from the water's edge. It was a
temple, as they had thought it was, but it was a temple
the like of which none of them had seen in their combined
travels -

The towering columns of the porch stood like great,
pale sentinels, and the canyon breeze wailed mournfully
through the decayed remains. Who could have built the
place? The architects must have belonged to a powerful
order, else they could never have brought these great
blocks of stone to this place and assembled them. From
die point where the structure met the cliff face to the
bottom step of the porch, Palamon guessed the distance
to be well over a hundred cubits. It was a magnificent
pile; it filled the broad shelf upon which it stood.

Ursid gazed at it a moment, wiping away the sweat
that stood out on his forehead. "It is a mammoth place;

what race of men could e'er have placed it here, and for
what use?"

Palamon secured his grip on his club. He looked ludi-
crous, brandishing as a weapon the rudely carved paddle
, from a hide-covered boat. He rubbed his chin, his hand
; rasping against several days' growth of sweaty whiskers.
"We cannot know till one of us goes in."
;   "Then I shall go," Ursid said.

"But use your powers of thought," Aelia said- "Lest
you be caught by some inhuman thing. This ancient struc-
ture might hold anything—some long lost cult or beasts..."
"Or Alyubol," Berengeria contributed.
"Yes, even Alyubol. So use your eyes."
"Perhaps I should go in," Palamon said.
"No. I, not you." Ursid turned on the older knight, his
ijeyes hard and defiant. "I am a warrior, too; I'm young
and quick. My eyes are good as any in this group and I
am fresh, untired by our ordeals. While older bones must
rest and rebuild strength, I'll enter now, for I've no need
(to pause." Before Palamon could respond, Ursid bounded
|up the steps to the temple's broad porch. Once there, he
shielded his body behind one of the great columns while
he examined the entrance more closely. Then, stepping

138 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

lightly, he moved along the porch toward the entrance
itself, disappeared through the dark doorway, and was

gone.

The other three waited anxiously, returning to the bend
in the trail leading up to the place. There they could hide
themselves behind the last outcropping of stone. They did
not have to wait long. Ursid quickly reappeared, reaching
the top step at the edge of the colonnade and motioning
with his arm for them to come forward.

They quickly did so. Reaching him, Aelia whispered,
"What lies inside this ancient structure?"

Ursid did not bother to whipser. "Faith, it is a temple
as we thought. But still, it's like no temple I have ever
seen. Come in, it's quite deserted. You will see my mean-
ing."

They followed him past the colonnade, through the
porch and into the dark interior of the building. "You'll
need a moment for your eyes to change, adjusting for the
light. It's not as dark as first it seems to be."

Ursid's words were true. The sun had not quite set
and rays of tight streamed through countless cracks and
holes in the roof. There was a huge, dark shape before
them, a statue which must have represented the deity to
which the temple had been dedicated. But it was difficult
to be sure who or what that deity was.

The statue was gigantic; it was the form of a naked
man facing the interior of the building. It seemed to move,
to challenge them, so filled with life was the stone. The
long, unkempt hair and beard writhed about the face. The
great, scar-traced torso was imbued with energy. In its
right hand, the figure grasped by the neck a large bird of
prey which it was in the act of throwing to the ground.
Indeed, it was this action which gave much of the life to
the carving; the battle had plainly been a hard one. The
figure was scarred from head to toe. His wrists were bound
in chains which he had broken; the short, twisted links
swung with his endlessly preserved act of casting down
the bird. And the bearded face showed terrible triumph
at the victory; the stone eyes were filled with fire and the
expression was one of supreme defiance.

DENNIS MCCARTY

139

I;   In the left hand, the figure held an opened scroll. This

was important, for it seemed to be the key to the nature

of this deity. The walls of the temple's interior, unlike the

tapestried walls of the temples known by the four trav-
. elers, were lined with shelves. And though the shelves

were empty in places, many of them still held volumes of

scroll cases. Shelves lined the side walls as well as the
'» front wall behind the great statue; there were even orderly
[ rows of shelves standing in the spaces between the double
[ row of columns in the center of the chamber. The place
^ was full of them. It was a library. But it had been built
\. on such a scale that none of the foursome had ever seen

its match.

The chamber had not been entered for a great while;

dust blanketed everything. It covered the floor, the end-
? less rows of shelves, and the statue itself. As Palamon

advanced toward the nearest row, his feet left deep
, impressions in it.

"This floor has not been trodden for an age," Ursid

said. "This dust is everywhere and undisturbed, except
^ for footsteps left by my own passing."

;   Palamon saw this was so as he looked over one of the
f large bookshelves- Everywhere there was the dust of ages.
^ The shelves were no longer full of scroll cases; many were
1-empty. The books they did contain were scattered and
I disordered, as if they had been perused by an uncaring
^hand. Something else was odd; although there were no
; disturbances in the dust on the floor, he noted a circular

spot free of dust on one of the shelves, as if one of the
; large scroll cases had been recently removed.
':   But there was no time to puzzle over this. They had
Lto go on; their mission in this ancient building was to find
' food or at least the means of obtaining it- So they advanced
farther into the interior of the place.

They walked past the long rows of shelves toward a
great doorway barely visible at the back of the bookfuled
Hcella. Here there was a surprise waiting for them. Instead
fof a small chamber that normally occupied the rear of a
-temple, or even a doorway to the outside, they found an
antechamber leading to a large tunnel, cut back into the

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

140

cliff itself. This posed a problem for they had no light.
The cella of the temple was dark; this antechamber was
yet darker, and the passageway was only a blackness on
the far wall.

"This n'er will do," Aelia said, "We must secure a

torch."

"Of what?" It was a fair question Ursid asked.
"Whatever we can find- It must be done. To follow

this dark passage without light is grimmest folly." Aelia

was adamant.

"Yes, you spoke the truth," Palamon said. They turned
to retrace their steps. Perhaps a rude torch could be man-
ufactured from the few wares they still had in their boat-
But as they passed once again into the great central
chamber of the temple, something was blocking their way.
It was a great, grim, hulking figure, standing a head taller
than Paiamon himself—and Palamon was a tall man.

The creature was wolflike in the dimness; it was a
btack. humanoid shape with a wolf's head and it carried
an axe, a broad-bladed battle axe. It held the weapon
high, ready to strike. As the four of them shrank back
into the smaller chamber, it advanced. "Who are you?
Why have you come to invade my Master's domain? Why
shouldn't I kill you?" The voice was deep and powerful,
as laden with menace as the axe itself,

Aelia was quick to speak. "We are four fugitives who
come in peace, to seek a helping hand and sustenance."

The wolf-thing paused, but the axe remained poised.
"You'll get nothing here but death.'

"What manner of creature are you?" Palamon asked.

"I am Usmu."

"Why are you here?"

"I serve my Master."

"Who is that?"

There was a moment's pause; the peppering of ques-
tions seemed to have pushed this Usmu creature off
balance. He thought for a moment. "My Master is my
Master." The axe descended a little-

Palamon looked up at him. He was an awesome figure;

the torso was wedge shaped, the shoulders were nearly

DENNIS MCCARTY

141

a fathom across, covered by coarse hair. Great fangs could
be seen against the shadows within the wolfish maw. But
the monster did not seem to be as imposing mentally as
he was physically. "I tell you, then," Palamon said, "Your
Master is the one we wish to see."

There was another pause. "Master told me to come
here and keep away intruders. I will kill you if you try to
go past me."

How sure of its mission was this Usmu creature? Did
the post he kept have any real meaning to him? Palamon
wondered about that and spoke accordingly. "But we are
not intruders."

The axe drooped another degree and the creature put
his head to one side a bit. "Why not?"

Now Aelia pitched in. "We come to see your Master.
We are not some heavy-handed thieves who come at night
to rob and kill."

The bulging shoulder muscles rippled as the creature
lowered the weapon all the way, holding it in one great
paw. "No, you are not thieves. I know what thieves are.
But Master never said anything about thieves, as far as
that goes. I don't trust you."

Palamon gripped his paddle-club, debating whether to
try to get the axe away from the thing. A well-timed blow
could still knock it from the casual grip now, for Usmu
was no longer concentrating on the weapon. But that still
might not be wise; the creature looked powerful enough
to kill them with his bare hands. "Why does your Master
not want visitors?"

"I don't know. Sometimes when I finish my other work
and ask him what to do next, he tells me, 'Usmu, go and
guard the library against intruders.' And then I do."

"I say again, that's one thing we are not." Aelia's man-
ner was a study in innocence.

Before the creature could answer her, Palamon spoke
. again. "What must we do for you to let us by?"

"I am not supposed to do that."

"Then Usmu, gentle guardian, we'll not ask you to let
us by at all."

"You won't?"

142      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Palamon shook his head. "We'll only ask that you might
take us to your Master. That is not to let us by."

It was a fine point, indeed. Still, it seemed to have
good effect. Usmu was silent.

"A small request," Aelia said, catching onto the game.
"We simply ask to see your Master. Tell us, what thing
must we do for you to take us to him, as you should?"

Usmu seemed to be approaching despair. "I don't know.
Everything has gone wrong. I was in the library watching
and I saw him come in." He gestured with the axe toward
Ursid. "Then he went back out, and you all came in, and
I thought you were intruders. But you say you aren't.
But I shall still kill you for my Master if you try to pass
me. I never killed anyone before; I think he'd be proud
of me." The building shook with the vibrations ofUsmu's

voice.

Palamon's mind was racing. By his own words, Usmu

was still a danger to them, however weak his brain might
be. "We did not try to get by you at all; in fact, we all
were leaving when you came. Can you deny a word of

this?"

"No."

*Then take us to your Master, as we ask," Aelia
repeated. "What must we do to make you do this thing?"

Usmu stood awkwardly on one foot as he pondered all
that had been said to him. Then the massive face bright-
ened with what must, to him, have been a stroke of genius.
"Sometimes I bring Master books from this library. That's
what you must do. You must bring him a book."

"I'll gladly do that, Usmu," Palamon said, relieved,
"One of these?" He gestured toward the shelves that sur-
rounded them.

"Yes, yes, any one of them." There was a glint in the
creature's hooded eyes, now. "It doesn't matter which

one."

"This one?" Palamon reached toward one of the scroll

cases. But as he did, the creature lashed out with blinding
speed. The battle axe scythed through the air, breaking
the case to smithereens, slicing into the stout shelf and

DENNIS MCCARTY

143

nearly removing Palamon's hand before he could snatch
it back.

Usmu shook with glee, his great lungs hurling forth
peals of laughter. The laughter was childish, but there was
no solace in that. It sent chills down the spines of all four
of them. "A game, a game. My Master doesn't play games
with me. But you will. You must take a book, but if you
try, I'll cut off your hand." He was delighted with his
trick- "Maybe I will get to kill you after all."

Things had taken a bad turn. Palamon backed around
Usmu toward the outer end of the library, watching the
wolfish head as it pivoted to follow his motion. The child-
brained monster was now a picture of concentration. Pala-
mon looked up at him. "How often will you let me play
this game, to snatch a scroll at peril of my life?"

"Play, play. I like the game."

"No," Berengeria tried to push herself between the two
gamesters but Ursid held her tightly. "Palamon, you can-
not risk your life. The peril must be borne by all of us."

"Stay back." Palamon's words were spoken in a low,
deadly tone. There was no disobeying them. "The bar-
gain's made and it will stand." He smiled once more, that
same mask of a smile that the others had seen before.
"This monster is not such a worthy foe—no quicker than
a lowly serpent's fang, nor stronger than a dozen or so
men. The lots are drawn; I'll play this deadly game the
same way we play out life's lottery. No arguing results,
no second chances. Tell me, noble Usmu, may 1 still pick
any book from all this chamber holds?"

Usmu giggled and nodded. "Any book."

The words had not even passed the hulking monster's
teeth before Palamon's hand darted toward another scroll
case. But once again the monster was quick beyond belief.
Palamon barely snatched his fingers out of the way as the
great axe again embedded itself into the shelf, carving in
twain the scroll canister that had been the target. The
reaction was daunting- The creature had not been ready;

he had been caught off guard while still speaking, but still
had been able to react with time to spare.

There was silence in the library now, broken only by

144 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the breathing of the four humans and the huge guardian.
Palamon had no more humor now, no words at all. He
was deadly serious. The sweat beaded upon his arms and
forehead. He flicked his fingers part way toward an open
scroll and there was a crunching sound as the axe gouged
into wood once more.

Breathing, breathing, the soft sound ofPalamon's foot-
steps—there were no other sounds as he slipped along
the aisle with Usmu in smiting pursuit. Palamon's eyes
shifted to the floor the creature was crossing as he fol-
lowed the tall knight. Usmu was leaving no tracks! There
were no imprints where the clawed feet had passed.

That accounted for Ursid's mistake. No wonder there
had been no tracks in the library and Ursid had thought
it unoccupied. Who could have expected this? And who
could be the unnamed Master who had conjured up this
apparition? Surely it was an unequal contest. If Palamon
was to have any hope of surviving, he needed to find
some better strategem than simply trying to outgrab this
thing.

On the shelf to Palamon's right, barely visible out of
the comer of one eye. there was a large scroll case lying
on its side on the edge of the top shelf. Palamon did not
reach for it; there was no hope of succeeding that way.
Instead, he feinted toward the shelf across the aisle from
it and at the same time kicked the bookcase behind him
as hard as he could with his heel.

There was a crash as the first case was shorn in two
by the axe; at the same time, Palamon held out his right
hand and allowed the toppled scroll case, the one in back
of him, to drop into it. Then he danced back, holding it
up before the astonished Usmu, who was still wrenching
his weapon free of its target.

Usmu was a picture of rage, disappointment, and frus-
tration. "No fair, no fair."

"The game was fair by all the rules you gave. Now
take us to your Master and be quick."

"1 should kill you anyway."

The foiled monster was still deadly; the edge had to
be taken off his fury. Palamon had to be helped- "Methinks

DENNIS McCARTY

145

your Master might not be well pleased to find that you
renege on your own game," Aelia said. "Our Palamon has
got himself a book and it is time that he presented it."

Usmu said nothing. He stood glaring at Palamon, fairly
seething. With a roar and a mighty sweep of one arm, he
cast away the axe, which crashed into a column on the
far side of the chamber. "No fair." Even though they were
spoken in the monster's deep voice, the words had the
ring of a foiled child. Then he turned and strode toward
the rear of the building.

They followed him, running to keep up. At first, as
they entered the passage that led from the library into the
cliff, each of them feared they were to be plunged into a
long, subterranean journey with a creature that could
outdistance them easily in the dark—or which could turn
upon them at any moment. This did not happen, however.
After a moment's walk, they entered a small chamber
which was well lit by torches, several of which stood in
sconces carved into the stone of the walls.

"This way." Usmu barely glanced over a hairy shoulder
as he turned down another corridor. Palamon still sus-
pected the monster would have liked to kill them all, if
only he could have found a way to excuse the act.

This corridor was also well lit, they walked only a short
way before it opened into a large, cluttered chamber. There
were long tables set up throughout the room, as if it had
once been a dining hall, but it was not being used for that
purpose now. Each table was covered from end to end
with a jumble of scrolls, drawings, empty or partially full
bowls, vials, and writing implements; there was no nam-
ing the parts of this clutter.

At the middle table sat the lord of this dominion of
bric-a-brac; he was a small, whitehaired old man. He wore
a formless gray robe and jotted notes onto a piece of
parchment while he studied something before him on the
table. He had not yet noticed his guests. He wrote silently,
pausing now and then only to shift in his chair or manip-
ulate the thing he was studying. Could this queer-looking,
eccentric old creature be their nemesis, Alyubol? It seemed
doubtful. He seemed too lost in his own jumbled world

146 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

even to notice his visitors, let alone steer the politics of
the feudal provinces about the Thiassa Mey.

"Well?" Aelia's voice was a soft whipser as she urged
Usmu. "Tell him we are here."

"I don't know Just how to do that," the creature said.
He did not know how to whisper, either; his deep voice
filled the room.

The old man heard the disturbance and looked up. He
was a remarkable-looking fellow. His face was a mass of
wrinkles, and the age and wisdom of a generation of seers
and sages could be seen there. Some of them were so
deep there seemed to be no bottom to them at all; there
was hardly a portion of the pink, delicate skin that had
not been undulated by time. But the eyes were the face's
most striking feature. The expressive mouth, the refined
nose, the small, compact form, all were striking in their
own ways. But those eyes seemed to be filled with light,
an inner fire that consumed all before them, including the
four travelers. Palamon, mysterious, experienced Pala-
mon, was as unnerved as the others by the sense of those
eyes shifting through his being.

All four of them were dumbstruck. Finally it was Ursid
who managed to break the silence. "What manner of man
are you?"

There was a moment's pause; then the old man
answered. "I am Reovalis, the lowly sage who lives alone.
And I know who you are."

Chapter Fifteen:

Reovalis

THE SILENCE THAT followed the statement of the sage
Reovalis was long and pregnant. The four adventurers
were surprised to hear this recluse tell them that he knew
who they were—they who had been pursued unsuccess-
fully by the most powerful forces on the shores of the
Thiassa Mey. They had managed to elude those forces,
but this old man said he knew them. Did this alleged
knowledge bode well for them, or did it bode ill? Each
one remained silent, gagged by his own onrushing thoughts.

The silence was broken by Usmu. Although he had
been forgotten for the moment, he had not himself for-
gotten his purpose in bringing the quartet here. "These
human people have brought you a book. Master."

Reovalis did not answer; his eyes flicked to the hulking
form of the servant, then back to his guests. But Usmu
was not to be denied. He took the scroll canister from
Palamon's unresisting fingers and placed it on the table
before the old man- "Here it is." His voice was ludicrous,

147

148 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

for, in spite of its heavy timbre, it sounded like a child
who had been brought before a most frightful grown-up.

"I thank you," Reovalis said, without taking his eyes
off his guests. He set the canister with the other items
that littered the table. "You may leave us, now, Usmu.
In fact, you are dismissed."

"Dismissed? Don't do that."

"Fear not. You shall be summoned in due course."
Without further discussion, Reovalis made a peremptory
wave with his right hand, and, before the astonished eyes
of the four visitors, mighty Usmu vanished. There was
no sound; all that was left was a faint whisp of smoke
where the monster had stood.

A gasp escaped Berengeria's throat. Without a doubt,
the four of them were in the presence of one of those
unique individuals, a sorcerer. Considering this fact, the
statement that he was familiar with them became less
remarkable.

Astonishment begat speech. "The gods," Ursid ex-
claimed. "What manner of thing was that, to be with just
one gesture so dismissed?"

"He is a summoned servant made of flesh. A fleshen
servant, useful in his way but of no weight in matters of
import. No doubt you have observed, my friends, that he
is but a child. He cannot hold a place beside such notables
as you—proud Berengeria, herself, the heiress ofCarea's
gilded throne; the Mistress Aelia, guardian royal, whose
wit and fortitude have saved her charge up to this point,
at least; Ursid, the young, whose great devotion to his
proud Princess has led him to renounce his native land..."

Then his eyes fixed upon Palamon. "And lastly we have
noble Palamon, by far the most interesting of all you four,
who gave up everything that he held dear for one decision,
made in foolish haste, concerning some young maiden he
had known for—what? An hour's space or less?"

The other travelers looked at Palamon. He stood as
motionless as a man encased in ice. He tried to smile his
smile into the face of the sage but the attempt was a feeble
one. He had turned gray. His mouth was stretched into

DENNIS MCCARTY

149

a narrow line. "And how could you have learned these
things?"

"I am Reovalis, the sage, you see. I know these things
and more. Brave Palamon, your history has fascinated
me these several years that I have studied you. Without
your ever knowing me, by use of means you cannot under-
stand, I've viewed your life. And I've learned much. I
know of things that you do not suspect as yet, as well as
others you know well."

The old man paused, studying with some satisfaction
the effect of his words. There was no malice in his expres-
sion; he appeared pleased at being able to speak this way
to his guests. He turned back to Palamon. "I know more
than you know yourself about your past. I know your
origin. I know what price incest has wrung from you, and
what is more, I feel that I can say that incest's future cost
could yet be dear."

"A jongleur's game, no more," Palamon muttered. But
the words were forced out as if he were choking upon
them.

"I know you fully, sir, as I have said. Your partners I
know well, but of your life I know almost as much as of
my own."

"You say you know my origin. Speak out."

"I cannot tell you everything I know." Reovalis' answer
was abrupt. "To tell you things that you yourself have not
yet learned could make you change your course and alter
history unborn. I am a sage, you see. I learn of life, the
forces that can move this world of ours. But though I
spend my life in diligent research to seek out all the world's
realities, I do not act. My purpose is to learn."

"You do that well; you've proven that to me. But if
you do not act, then of what use are you to all these lands
you study so?"

"Of what use is a rose, a summer's eve, a maiden's
face, or even your own life?"

Palamon fell silent. He had no answer and it would
doubtless not have mattered if he had.

Berengeria broke into the conversation. "And what of
Alyubol? Do you know him?"

150 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

The old man turned to her, fingers stroking the fine,
white whiskers that framed his ancient visage- He con-
templated her for a moment before speaking "I know
him, yes. He hides himself from me but there are some
few scraps of information I can glean."

"Then tell us of him. Tell us all you know."

Reovalis shook his head slowly as he repeated himself.
"I shall not tell you all the things I know. To do so could,
as I have said, affect the course of history as yet unwrit.
Perhaps I have already said too much. This question gives
me pause-1 must consider it. How much can 1 inform you
ere it is too much? I shall consider this and while I do,
avail yourselves of all that I possess. It is not much, but
it will serve your needs." He lowered he head and began
writing once more.

The guests stood nonplussed. Reovalis seemed to have
finished with them. But while his hospitably had been
offered, he had made no move to direct them toward it.
There were four corridors opening into this chamber but
the only one the adventurers knew was the one leading
back to the outside.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then the sage
looked up at them once more, as if puzzled that they still
stood before him. His eyebrows lifted and he spread his
hands. "Forgive me, please; my manner is uncouth. My
work has isolated me so long that I have quite forgotten
how to act before my guests." He gestured with his quill
toward the opening in the wall to their right. "If you go
through that door, an ample meal has been prepared for
you. Considering your trip and hard conditions, I may
say you'll not leave it untouched. I cannot join you now;

my work will occupy me for a time."

Without another word for his guests, he again directed
his eyes to the scrolls before him on the table. They con-
cluded that they had received as much of an invitation as
they ever would; besides, at the mention of food, they
did not need to be urged. They crossed the cluttered
chamber and entered the low hallway toward which he
had pointed.

A moment's walk took them to another chamber, this

DENNIS MCCARTY           151

one less impressive than the last. The walls had no veneer
and the chisel marks they bore attested to the fact that
this chamber, like the last, had been carved into the living
stone of the cliff. But that mattered little to them as they
looked upon the meal laid out on the long table in the
center of the room. To their famished eyes it was a divine
feast; the smooth planks bore bowls of fruit and raw veg-
etables, flagons of wine, cakes of cheese, loaves of bread,
jars of honey, and platters of roast mutton. These things
lay before them like beckoning paradise.

Without hesitation, they threw themselves down upon
the benches and reveled in their repast. They did not
pause even for thought or consideration of the meal. Had
it been poisoned? Did the spiced wine and highly peppered
meat contain drugs or potions? It did not matter, they
were too famished and fatigued to care.

But this was understandable; they had traveled long.
Besides, they had watched the manner of their host, this
mysterious sage Reovalis. His powers in unknown arts
could not be denied and it seemed unlikely that he would
have attempted to gain by treachery what he could have
easily taken by force. So they feasted without thought.
The fruits and vegetables were delicious after their days
of eating fish or nothing, the mutton was hot, spicy and
adequate, and the bread and honey were a flight to the
alabaster regions of Paradise. It did not matter what
culinary delights these four travelers had experienced in
the past. This simple feast, coming as it did on the heels
of their greatest deprivation, delighted their starved sen-
ses in a manner which could scarcely have been imag-
ined.

And so they feasted, eating until they were more than
full. Even Palamon, stoic, disciplined Palamon, devoured
the rations before him until his midsection grew uncom-
fortable. Then the drowsiness came. He felt a heaviness
invading his eyes and his body rebelled against his com-
mands, crying out only for rest. He looked at Berengeria
as she cast her eyes back toward him, her face reflecting
his own fears. Had they, indeed, been drugged? Or was
it simply a loaded belly, too much good wine, and their

152 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

endless days of hardship, all working in concert? It did
not matter. All Palamon desired now was rest, to close
his eyes and sleep. He saw that the others were all cursed
by the same need. Ursid and Aelia were slumped forward,
their heads resting upon their arms, and Berengeria had
actually curled up on the floor next to the bench.

There was no helping it. Palamon tried to dictate to
his sagging body, to force it to rise and stand guard over
his companions. But his will was breaking down; No,
there was no helping it. With a yawn, he moved his wooden
platter to the center of the table, pushed a bowl of glis-
tening grapes aside, and laid his head down on the cool
wood. A moment later, a soft snore escaped his lips.

Several moments passed. None of the travelers stirred.
More time trickled away. After a long while, a figure
entered the room; it was the lone figure ofReovalis. With-
out a word, he walked to the table and examined his four
guests, then stood and watched them sleep, his hand rest-
ing on the back of Palamon's head, "So. Pardon me, my
guests. What I have done is doubtless inhospitable in all
your eyes. But I live here and am not used to all the
customs of your outside world. The potion is a mild one;

you'll just sleep.

"For sleep is what you need the most, I think. I am
not used to guests; how could I know for sure what your
reaction might become, once you have supped, regaining
all your strength? Would you confront me, one old, lonely
man? Your cause is just, that cannot be denied, and I may
help you if your souls are true. I think they are, from
what is in the Glass. Your stay will be upon my terms
alone. I'm old, you see, and not conformed to guests."

He made a gesture with his left hand, a mystical, indes-
cribable gesture. A moment passed, then another figure
entered the chamber, the hulking, hairy figure of the flesh
servant, Usmu, who had been dismissed into a wisp of
smoke only a short time earlier. Reovalis directed the
monster to the sleeping Palamon. Following the sage's
pointed finger, Usmu moved to the side of the steeping
Knight of Pallas and effortlessly hoisted him up, throwing

DENNIS McC-ARTY            153

the muscular body easily over one shoulder. In Usmu's
cavernous, yet childlike, eyes, there was no sign that he
remembered the tife-and-death contest that had taken place
just a short time ago.

Chapter Sixteen:

The Glass of the Polonians

PALAMON AWAKENED. THE information his senses gave
him was disconcerting. There was nothing before him but
darkness, nor was there a sound to be heard; the only
senses that served him were those of touch and smell. All
was black. Did he lie in some tomb—or in some Tartarus?
No, this was not a tomb; it was a closed chamber with
the dank smell of age in it, but it was not necessarily a
tomb. He concentrated, avoiding further flights of fancy.
He was lying on a sleeping couch, a most luxurious one
from the feel of it. He reached down and touched the
linen upon which he was lying. It was fine material and
it covered a couch the like of which he had not enjoyed
in years. His uncertainty diminished.

So he was not in a tomb; this was no abode of the
dead. Then where was he? His mind traveled back to the
last events he could remember—the flight from Buer-
daunt, the wudlings, the passage down the Stilchis to the
ancient temple—me meal- He had been drugged. He could
remember it now—the feast, the wine, the drowsiness

154

DENNIS MCCARTY             155

that could not be staved off. And the sight of his fellow
victims lying down before him. A potion had been in the
food; he had been put to sleep and taken to this place.

With a gasp, he sat upright and swung his legs over
the side of the couch, reaching for the floor with his feet.
Then he paused as his head began to whirl. Either he was
still drugged or he had lain here for a long time; his body
hardly obeyed the command to action-
Moving more slowly, he planted his feet on the cool
stones of the floor and stood- It was no easy task. Without
light, without any plane of reference, standing was tricky
business. But he had to explore this place. Slowly, cau-
tiously, he examined his cell; he found a stone wash stand,
a wooden chair, and a door in the blackness. He felt for
a handle and found one-
Pulling the door open, he found himself standing in a
low corridor where torches cast a dim glow. It was lined
with other doors like the one through which he had stepped.
Were his companions behind any of them? He pushed
one- It gave beneath his touch, revealing a chamber exactly
like the one he had just left, its darkness barely pierced
by the torches' weak light.

His attention was distracted by a sound behind him,
barely a sound, even. He simply sensed something. He
turned and started upon seeing the massive form of Usmu
towering over him—Usmu, of the great strength, quick-
ness and stealth, and of the nonexistent mind. Before
Palamon could react, the monster spoke. "You are awake.
You are the last one to do that. The Master told me to
bring you to him as soon as you wake because he and the
others are waiting for you."

The words were spoken with little tone or inflection,
as if this was a memorized speech designed to be spoken
on cue. Considering what he had seen of Usmu's mental
gifts, Palamon guessed this to be the case. So he was to
be taken before Reovalis once more.

Palamon did not hesitate to go with Usmu. For one
thing, resistance would have done no good; the flesh ser-
vant had shown himself to be more than capable of over-
coming even the strongest man. Besides, he had told

156 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Palamon that the tall knight's companions awaited. His
companions had been what Palamon was seeking when
Usmu had appeared; without them, his next move would
be meaningless.

So Palamon walked in the direction Usmu pointed,
turning into an intersecting passage. As he walked, he
noticed for the first time what he was wearing. His chain
mail. the hauberk he had worn for so long, was gone. In
its place, he was now gowned in a soft, knee-length tunic
of white cotton gathered at the waist with a cord. It was
clerical garb, but the color and the design woven into it
had no connection with the Knights of Pallas.

This change in dress upset Palamon more than he would
ever have let his companions see, had they been there in
person; it upset him far more than had the loss of his
sword with its carved horn pommel. He stopped in the
center of the corridor and felt at himself, pulling at his
new clothing as if he might have found his armor hidden
away beneath it somewhere. He stood rooted to the floor,
looking up hopelessly at Usmu, who only returned the
gaze with dumb impatience-

"Hurry," Usmu finally said. "I'm supposed to bring
you to my Master."

Again Palamon cast his eyes along the corridor, then
turned and bolted back toward the chamber he had just
left- Even before huge Usmu had blocked his dash, he
knew the move was useless. There were a dozen doors
lining each side of the corridor he had come from, each
of them identical with all the others. It would have been
a tedious search at best. If his captor—for such he now
considered Reovalis—desired him to, he would have the
hauberk back.

He looked up at the flesh servant looming before him
and managed a smile. "Forgive me, gentle monster, 'twas
a lapse. I shall not break the dignity of these fair halls
with any further outbursts. Have no fear, I shall not harm
you. Let's march on." He winked at Usmu and again
moved in the direction that was desired.

They walked back toward the dining hall, the scene of
the party's late misfortune. Entering the chamber, Pala-

DENNIS McCARTY

157

mon found the great plank table once more laden with
food. There sat Ursid, Aelia, and Berengeria. They turned
to look at him as he entered, and so did Reovalis, who
was seated at the head of the table.

"How now, brave Palamon," Reovalis said. "At last
you've come. Your sleep has lasted long, far past the time
your fellows slumbered."

"Yes, that is the truth." Berengeria rose, took Palamon
by the arm, and brought him to a seat at the table. " Twas
almost one full day you slept. It caused concern."

"At nearly twoscore years of age, my body does not
mend as well as yours. Apologies I must extend, 0 fair
Princess."

"Infirmities of age will be your friends and boon com-
panions, more so every year. Well could I tell you that
much, even if I were no sage," Reovalis said. "But you
do look well now. I hope you find yourself well satisfied
with these accommodations, ancient ones though they may
be. I hope the loss of certain articles does not offend you
greatly." The ancient man's eyes bored into Palamon.

Palamon shrugged. "What things I may have lost mean
nought to me. I had not even noticed. This fair man..."
he turned to gesture toward Usmu but the flesh servant
had gone. "Your largish servant said to me I was expected,
so I came post haste. If 1 have lost some article, though
it may be quite unimportant, I am sure it will be found
and then returned to me in all good time."

"That may or may not be. If not, its value will be well
made up." Reovalis turned his head, addressing all his
guests now. "You see, my friends, I've not arranged my
thoughts concerning what to do with all of you. I am a
sage; my role is not to act. And yet, you see, I find myself
provoked to aid you in your quest, which I find just. I
shall decide at length. Until that time, you will be safe
from your pursuers here."

He turned back to Palamon. "This much I say to you,
brave Palamon: you have no future in the past. And so
the articles you've lost will drag you down the more, if
they're returned. If my decision is to give you aid, they
all will be replaced, at least in worth. If not, then I will

158       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY
send you four upon your ways with all the selfsame goods

that you brought here.

"My guests, as you all know, 1 have declined to answer
inquiries about this place or who or what I am until you
all were present. Now you are. And so I say to you: one
question each I'll field, excluding matters deemed unsuit-
able by me to treat upon. So speak up now and test my
knowledge. Ask me what you will."

The air about the table was filled with a babble of
questions- Reovalis waited until it settled a bit, then spoke
again. "One well-considered question each, no more. And
young Ursid, let us begin with you."

Given the chance to speak openly and without inter-
ruption, Ursid was without words. He sat for a moment,
his smooth jaw working silently. At last he did find a
question. "What manner of place is this that we have
found, so far away from most men's normal haunts?"

Reovalis nodded. "That question I can answer without
fear about the answer's consequence. So hear. This is a
great library—temple, too—a monument to learning ages
old. An ancient cult, the wise Polonians, an order of great
power in past times, constructed it both as a learning place
and as a temple sacred to their creed. They held to sanctity
of mind and thought, of learning, and of study for its own
sake. Evil times then drove them out and left this place
a dark, deserted ruin. But still the books are here- And
thus it is a fitting place for me."

"However did you come here?" Ursid asked.

Evidently forgetting his restriction of one question per
guest, Reovalis held forth happily. "This place was left
deserted eons past. The wise Polonians, though they were
strong, a wealthy order, quite mysterious, were driven
out by stronger, evil men. And so the temple stood deserted
here, abandoned and forgotten by the world. But in my
studies when 1 was a lad, I found occasional remarks on
it, well knowing what its worth would be to me. To find
it was the great goal of my youth. Once I had found it,
then I earnestly struck out to glean all knowledge from
its shelves on items both of mystery and fact. That was
my great ambition in those years that formed my middle

DENNIS McCAR-ry            159

age. I grew quite wise and strong in conjuring and all such
arts. Yet still 1 learn. I study all the world and hope to
learn without exception all items there can ever be to
know. That is the goal of these, my eldest years."

"And yet such learning, never put to use, will be of
little value to that world you have observed for lo these
many years." There was doubt in Aelia's eyes.

"That might well be," Reovalis answered. "But how
much does it matter?" He looked at her for a moment.
"But you, my Aelia, what have you to ask?"

"Tell us of the forces that we flee. How close upon our
trail do they now press? Do they still search for us or do
they feel that we are lost, no longer worth the chase?"

Reovalis continued to study her face. "A well-framed
question, gentle guardian. It is direct, concise, and covers
points most valuable to you to help you frame your course.
But I must ponder thoughtfully awhile. Until I choose to
answer your inquiry, let us have another." He turned to
Berengeria. "And you, the fair Princess, what would you
ask me?"

"What of Alyubol?" Berengeria put the question as if
it had been foremost in her thoughts ever since Reovalis1
first offer to be quizzed. "How great is his involvement
in our plight? What might we do to circumvent his wiles?"

Reovalis nodded. "Another question, probing deep and
true. The answers to these queries give me pause. I must
be cautious now; I shall not tell you all, for that is telling
you too much." He sat motionless and silent for a bit, as
if he might not even have been aware of the four pairs of
eyes upon him. Finally he looked up at his guests again.
"An answer of a sort I might well give; if you have eaten
and are satisfied, then rise and come with me."

Without waiting for a response, Reovalis rose from his
place at the head of the table and passed out of the cham-
ber by the corridor that led back to his study. They all
rose and walked after him, even Palamon, though the tail
knight had hardly had a thing to eat since awakening.

Reovalis noted this. As the group passed through his
cluttered study, skirting tables and articles that had rolled
onto the stone floor, he spoke to the Knight of Pallas over

160 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

his shoulder. "Fair Palamon, I see you follow, too. But
you have eaten little for some time. Can any insignificant
display that I might show you mean that much. per-
chance?"

Palamon was less daunted by Reovalis now than he
had been at first. The sage was human, he possessed a
powerful ego, and he was enjoying his audience. "You
taunt me, sir. Your knowledge seems so vast that any
word that you might deign to say would well be worth
the loss of many meals." The answer was laced with irony;

still, Reovalis acted pleased with it and walked on, a hint
of a smile peeking from beneath his eiderdown beard.

They passed through the study chamber; it seemed the
demonstration was not to be held there- They entered
another hallway, which led downward into the bowels of
the mountain. The walk was not a long one. They passed
down a hundred cubits of corridor and found themselves
in a small room, not much larger than the one Palamon
had awakened in. It was lit by torches and the torchlight
showed more in the way of furnishings than Palamon's
chamber had contained; there was a small cot to sleep
on, shelves bearing scrolls and papers, a large desk bear-
ing more paper and writing utensils along with a finely
crafted oil lamp, unhghted at the moment. In fact, the
room was so packed with furnishings that it was impos-
sible for all five people to cram themselves into it. Pala-
mon, who was at the rear of the group, found himself
watching through the open door.

Reovalis paused before a tapestry on the far wall of
the chamber and spoke. "My guests. I show you some-
thing which no eye, save for my own, has recently
observed. You stand within the quarters occupied long
centuries ago by one lone man, the Grand High Priest of
the Polonians. To him, in honor of his high position, was
entrusted custody of this, my prize and key to all my
studies. Ere we all pass in to team and profit by its mystic
teachings, I have need to warn you-

"Many, many years was I to study ere I came to learn
the secrets of this instrument by which all things may be
discovered and made known. Much have I learned and

DENNIS MCCARTY           161

much have I to leam. This much I say, for it may serve
you well to think on it, if you will gaze into the depths of
the Polonians' far Glass.

"The Glass of the Polonians speaks out to every man
in his own separate tongue. And to each man it tells a
different tale, for men are varied as an ocean's waves in
how they see the same occasion. So therefore, do not
seek to gaze into the Glass and know all things, for your
young minds do not yet hold the fruit of years of thought
and study for the sake of learning all the Glass can well
reveal.

"So simply seek to leam those basic things that are
occurring in the present time; the future and its sights are
closed to you. The secrets of the Glass may overwhelm
the mind that seeks too much. A few times, even I've
been nearly lost from trying to oppose my intellect with
the mysterious powers of its magic."

With this speech, Reovalis pulled aside the hanging
and bade his guests pass through the opening it covered.
The passage was dark and the chamber it opened into was
dark also. "Bear right, bear right, stay fast against the
wall. The Glass is danger to a person who does not com-
pletely understand its might. Please keep your eyes closed
till I give you word, for there is danger here. Place both
your hands across your eyes and do not move them till I
tell you to."

As they passed into the dark chamber, none of the
foursome spoke; there was a quality in Reovalis' voice
which stated better than words that he was in deadly
earnest. As Palamon followed the others into the cham-
ber, he kept his back pressed against the rough stone wall
that curved away to the right; he held his left palm stoutly
over his eyes. He could feel the eyelids flutter against the
sensitive skin.

The chamber was nearly silent. Palamon could hear
his own breathing as well as the exhalations ofBerengeria,
who was standing beside him. There was also another
sound, a slight trickling or bubbling; it was difficult to tell
which.

Then they heard Reovalis follow them in. The old man

162 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

cleared his throat as he passed, then the footsteps faded
toward the other side of the chamber. When he spoke
again, his voice came from several cubits away, directly
opposite them.

"Take care, my guests, and heed each word I say. You
now are in the presence of a force that issues from the
voids within this world on which we run the courses of
our lives. I do not understand this mighty force completely
but I can survey its face and learn from it what little things
I may. Heed every word. You all must certainly do as I
say, exactly as I say. 1 cannot help you if by chance you
fall." Was there a pedantic tone creeping in to the old
man's voice? Palamon thought so. He suspected the lone
sage was enjoying himself hugely as he played to his cap-
tive audience.

"Now which of you has questions for the Glass? You,
brave Ursid. You stand so stiff and strong. Speak bravely
forth; your question shall be first."

There was silence. Then Palamon heard Ursid's voice
echoing from off to the right. The voice was strong, there
was no lack of firmness in its timbre, yet it sounded as if
there were the least bit of uneasiness on the part of the
speaker, as if he were unsure of why and to whom he was
speaking. "So be it. I repeat the inquiry of Lady Aelia.
Do we still face hot pursuit? If so, how does it fare? Do
all our foes now close upon us even as we stand?"

"Bravo, a question bravely spoken out and ore that
lies quite well within your own mind's bounds. Remove
your hands and look down at the floor; the Glass will tell
you all it wishes to."

There was a pause. There was no sound but breathing
and the unidentifiable liquid sounds Palamon had been
hearing. Then Reovalis spoke again. "Tell them what you
see."

Ursid hesitated- When his voice did come, it was halt-
ing; it was as if the young knight were too caught up by
what he was watching to fully describe it. "I see a troop
of riders sitting on their steeds and looking out across
some void. They stand on some high cliff for I can see a

DENNIS McCARTY

163

lonely mountain eagle wheel about, far in the sky above
the shoulder of one rider."

"Tell what they wear," Reovalis prompted the young
speaker.

"They wear the uniform of my Buerdaunt. That is, they
do save one who wears white robes. They turn and look
at one another, then one seems to hurl an oath; they wheel
their mounts and ride along the cliff face for a way. Now,
wait-.."

"What do you see? Speak forth." Reovalis' voice was
insistent, demanding.

"I see... I cannot tell you, things are altering. This is
a different place, one that I know. It is the presence cham-
ber in Buerdaunt, where pale King Lothar hears petitions
and does his business. 1 can see his face." Here Ursid's
voice failed him for a moment. Then he recovered and
went on. "He seemed to fasten his cold, level gaze on my
own eyes, but that is not the case; he watches something
else with interest. I wish that I could make out more...
and now I can- I see the scene quite well- It is, as I have
said, the presentation chamber of pale Lother and upon
the marble floor there has been placed a mighty cauldron.
'Round it burns a flame.

"They've placed hot, molten lead in there. It is a form
of punishment I know; they mean to torture some unfor-
tunate. And now they lead him, struggling, o'er the floor.
No, there are two... now four. I know those men."

Again Ursid had to stop speaking for a moment as
emotions warred within him. He went on, his voice was
more restrained. "It is my friend, young Amos, of the
guards. He stood the watch when we passed from the
town and did not search our horses, for he knew me well
and now, it seems, he pays the price. I know one of the
other men, though not as well, an odd acquaintance only.
And I know the torture, too. The men are strapped to
posts set in the floor. A ladle dips the lead out of the
cauldron, throwing it upon them in a spray; so many times,
depending on the punishment's degree." Here Ursid
stopped speaking. "I'll not go on. Please make it go away."

"You've placed your palms before your eyes once

164 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

more." Reovalis sounded grave. "I do not blame you. It's
a brutal sight." He paused, giving Ursid time to gather
himself. Then he spoke again. "My Lady Aclia, what
inquiries do you wish to make? The Glass will now
respond."

"The query that I had is answered. I do not have

another."

"But are you sure."

"Indeed I am. My questions will be asked at my own
time and in a manner I shall choose myself. I shall not
yield my soul up to your hands for exhibition, here before
my friends."

"Quite so." Reovalis' voice betrayed irritation at Aelia's
reply. The sage paused a moment before he addressed
Berengeria. "Now you. Princess, your question 1 would

hear."

Berengeria did not hesitate; she spoke with the manner
of one who had been waiting for the offer. "I wish to see
the face of Alyubol, to know him and the land in which
he dwells."

There was silence. When Reovalis finally spoke, it was
in measured tones, as if he were choosing his words care-
fully. "You ask of Alyubol at every turn. That's quite a
thorny question at the best, for 1 myself have difficulty
when 1 try to see his image in the glass. He's placed a
shield between himself and those who try to seek him; it
requires some secret, curtained even unto me, to see him
fully and, moreover, it is dangerous to try."

"Do not attempt this thing." This was Aelia's voice.

"It is not wise."

"I wish to see him." Berengeria was adamant, her voice

bristling with resolve.

Reovalis sighed. "Very well. I shall aid you myself,
protecting you, my dear, as best I can from all the dangers
found in seeking Alyubol within the Glass."

There was a moment's silence before Reovalis' voice
was heard again, telling Berengeria to take her hands from
her eyes- Her voice was uncertain as she began to describe
what she was seeing. "I see a mass of convoluted cloud
but nothing more. There's nought but swirling mist. It

DENNIS McCARTY

165

rushes by me; nothing can be seen. -. except, 1 see a wall
of stone, an ancient, rotting edifice. Now more... it is as
if I pass beyond the wall and all is dark except a candle's
glow. 1 see a robe-draped figure at a desk; at least it seems
so. There is little light. His clothing's folds all billow,
billow forth. They look like ocean swells or midnight
clouds, all goaded by the prod of driving winds. I cannot
see his shape but only folds on folds of robing. Does he
turn?" Berengeria's voice had become quite dreamy in its
tone; now it died away altogether.

Palamon was about to drop his hands and reach for
her when she spoke once more. "I see no more, the vision
goes away."

"You took too great a risk; I ended it," Reovalis said.
"I do not know the strengths of Alyubol, nor whether he
can reach out from his place to grasp your mind. Princess,
though it be through the Glass. His strengths are many,
not all known to me. Perhaps your unschooled scrying
wakens him and gives him means to do you harm. I hope
that's not the case. But cover up your eyes and I will
speak to noble Palamon."

"My query," Palamon said, "is the same as what I
asked you in your study when we first arrived. What do
you know about my birth and how I came, an orphan, to
the gates of Pallas' Fastness, high upon its cliff?"

"You know enough. Young orphans, now and then, are
left there. You were one."

"The elder Knights all told me I was placed before the
outer gates of that great keep, a babe, a tiny, month-old
babe, that I was reared on goat's milk and their charity.
I know that much of my beginnings. Show me now the
rest."

The impatience grew large in Reovalis' voice as he
responded. "I cannot show you that. It might well change
the course of history as yet untold. Your question lies too
close. Another, please."

Palamon found himself growing irritated. Was it wrong
for him to be curious about his origins? The only clue he
had ever had to his beginnings had been the odd piece of
horn with the word *blood' carved into it, which he had

166 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

had set into his sword's pommel. Now even that was gone,
as was his armor. All his ties to his beginnings were gone.

It was enough that Reovalis seemed to know the details
of Palamon's birth, things that Palamon did not know
about himself, yearned to learn but could not discover.
That would have been enough by itself to take the edge
off his wit. But there was more than that. Reovalis, though
he was basking in the curiosity and attention of his guests,
obviously knew much more of their past and future, as
well as their present prospects, than he was willing to
impart. It was as if they were standing in the presence of
a selfish muse; past and future seemed to be united in the
old man, in his manner, in his speech. But he acted deter-
mined to keep the bulk of this knowledge to himself.
Although they had sparred verbally before this, Palamon
felt far from trading riposte at this moment. He would not
joust further with the old man. "I have no interest, then.
What I have heard described by others is enough."

"Then ask a question to be politic."

Palamon could think of no fitting response so he said
nothing.

"If you have not a question for my ears, perhaps I
ought to let you see a shadow from your past, if just from
courtesy." The amount of venom in the old man's voice
was surprising.

"If you so wish."

"A vision, then, of that fair, winsome maid, for whom
you have surrendered up your state, your knighthood in
the Order. Drop your hands, reveal your eyes, and see."

Palamon felt a tightness grip his chest; it reached
upward, dragging at his throat. "I'll not remove my hand
for such a sight."

"No matter." Reovatis' voice was becoming louder with
every word. "If you'll not move your hand, then it will
be the same as if you had."

There was a flash and Palamon's eyes were bathed in
a deep blue, iridescent light. He started, staring at the
arm he was still holding up before his face. His hand was
no longer there; the arm trailed off in wisps of blue-white
vapor and the room in which he was standing was revealed.

DENNIS McCARTY           167

It was a roundish cavern some ten or twelve cubits across;

at the far side stood Reovalis, glowering at him, the old

man's features bathed and distorted by the blue glow that
filled the room.

Between them was the Glass of the Polonians but it
was not a glass at all; it was a pool of blueness in the
floor of the chamber, a swirling, tumbling pool, filled with
every shade of that color and bathing all objects with its
light. At first the pool appeared to be full of swirling,
boiling, blue oil; but on examination it was not. There
was nothing in it but color. The color was so intense, so
deep and pure, that it seemed to have a substance of its

own as it eddied endlessly about within the confines of
its stone well.

Palamon's eyes and all his other senses were drawn
into the swirling color; he was hypnotized by the purity
of it. It was deep, midnight blue; it was light blue, almost
white. It was intense, raging royal blue; it was nearly
black. It was all these colors at once. Nor was it limited
to the blue portion of the spectrum. Now there were other
colors, too, all the colors a mind could grasp. Palamon
realized that the pool had him now. His senses were pos-
sessed by it. It was as if his body had entered the pool;

the colors were dancing all about him.

And there was also an image before him. It swirled,
took shape, lived, breathed, could be identified. He rec-
ognized it: it was she. It was the maiden with whom he
had created the great scandal on the north shore of the
Thiassa Mey years ago. Her name was Arlaine.

He could hear a voice in the background; it was a man's
voice shouting, telling him to describe all that he was
seeing. But he could not. He could not respond; his mind
and tongue were imprisoned by the image before him. She
was so full of life, this Arlaine; she looked happy, even
joyful, unlike the maiden Arlaine he had known- And
there was a babe in her arms. Was that the babe?

No, it was not, for now another figure emerged from
the veil of shifting colors. This one was a small boy, a
child of eight. His hair was coal black, the same color as
his mother's hair; his face was a replica of hers; he looked

168 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

bright, lively, normal in every way. That was the boy;

there could be no doubt. He was the proper age. Palamon
found himself wondering what the youngster's name might
have been- The lad had cost him greatly, yet Palamon did
not even know his name-

The boy surely bore the surname of his stepfather. As
the babe at her breast proved, Arlaine had taken a hus-
band; no doubt he was a young man from some village
near her own who had given his name to both children.
She would have been a worthwhile mate; she still had her
beauty, and her attachment to a noble Knight, however
scandalous, would have given her prestige among her fel-
low villagers.

She moved, she spoke, although he could not hear her.
She looked at him, smiled at him. It was all too much.
The agony of the vision overwhelmed him, ground him
down, made his knees sag. And he was making sounds
with his mouth, unrecognizable animal sounds. He could
feel the tears scalding his cheeks- He was falling; he felt
himself falling downward, farther into the mass of color
that leaped and swirled about him.

There were more sounds. There was shouting, and he
felt himself being lifted by rough hands. He was groggy;

the image of Arlaine and the boy danced about him, even
after he had been removed from the omnipotent blueness
and there were no colors at all to be seen. He felt his feet
scraping over the floor and also felt the presence of bodies
about him, of hands supporting him. Straightening his
legs, he found he was able to stand.

He opened his eyes. To his amazement, he found that
his eyes had been tightly clenched all this time and his
hand was still intact, still held stiffly in front of his face.
The arm ached now, and he had to drop it to his side.
The room swam about him, but he was able to recognize
the faces of his companions and he realized he was back
in Reovalis' bedchamber. Usmu was there also. The hands
supporting Palamon belonged to the sage's flesh servant.

In a moment, the tapestry leading to the other chamber
moved to one side and Reovalis himself entered the room,
his deepset eyes dark in the flickering torchlight. He gazed

DENNIS McCARTY

169

into Palamon's face for a moment before speaking. "Now
can you stand, Sir Knight?"

Palamon nodded. He could find no words.
Reovalis1 manner was changed from what it had been.
The sage looked badly shaken; he had lost some of the
brusqueness that had marked his words and actions until
this time. He dismissed Usmu from the room; he did not
dismiss him into vapors as he had before, but simply bade
him leave. Then he spoke to the four fugitives. "My guests,
I must apologize for deeds and thoughts it frightens me
to call my own. You are the only folk to view my face in
many, many years. Please bear with me. My way with
you has lacked in courtesy."

Palamon heard Aelia's voice from behind him. "Quite
so."

"Odd thoughts of guests have sometimes come to me,
with pride in all the wonders I could show. The scenes I
pictured in those musing thoughts were quite unrealistic
and naive; you never did respond as I had thought you
might- Now I am chastened in my heart to find that after
all, I'm just a man. I have my vanities, a temper, too, and
still am capable of being rash. Excuse me, please, forgive
me, Palamon. Your friends cannot appreciate the wrong
that 1 have done you, as can you and I. I must excuse
myself and spend some time in self examination. What I
find will then have great effect on how I act and how my
treatment of yourselves will be in future. Now please go.
I must be by myself, at least for now."

The four travelers gazed upon the old man for a moment,
then turned to go. Palamon turned last, still shaken by
his vision. Together they walked the long corridor toward
more familiar halls- Once they were inside the cluttered
study chamber, Aelia spoke. "And you. Sir Palamon, how
fare you now?"

Palamon found his answer coming by itself. "I feel
quite well. What harm can visions do?"

Aelia peered into his face, studying him intently. "No
ill effects from what you just went through?"

"No ill effects. A vision is just air."

She studied him for another moment, then turned with-

170 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

out expression to the other members of the party. "Then
very well- Our time is ours, it seems. And for my part,
if such things can be done, I'll find if Usmu's learned to
draw a bath. If he does have such skills, then they shall
be well utilized by me, for such a luxury is rare and much
to be appreciated."

"Yes," Ursid said. "And sleep is my concern. I've had
no great amount in recent weeks."

Aelia started to walk away but turned and gazed into
Palamon's face once more- "Your vision has been painful,
nonetheless."

"It does not matter. What I saw has passed. If knights
are strong, then that's what I must be- I have not eaten
for a day or more, and so I'll sample our long table's fare.
Enough food, I am sure, will ease all pain. And suffering
is ended with a draught—if it is deep enough—of sweet
spiced wine."

Berengeria took hold of Palamon's arm. "Then 1
accompany you as you go dine, for you should not be left
with ancient thoughts and visions as your only company-
Excuse me, my dear Aelia and Ursid, for Palamon has
not been shown this nest of sages and old wizards as we
have, a service I shall render after food." With her fingers
on his arm, she led Palamon toward the dining hall-
Still shaken by his experience, Palamon went with her.
turning to nod a quick farewell to his other two compan-
ions. Aelia looked back with a face masked of all emotion.
But the eyes of Ursid were burning.

Chapter Seventeen:

Princess Berengeria

IT WENT WITHOUT saying that Berengeria's words about
company and showing Palamon the extent of the ancient
catacomb were only an excuse and not an original one at
that. Aelia was bemused by it, Ursid was offended. It
lacked any sort of ingenuity. But it did serve its purpose.
Palamon walked with her now, casting his eyes upon her
as they returned to the dining hall. She was a beautiful
maiden. But why was she doing this?

That was a question worth asking. And the answer lay
deep in the mind of Berengeria herself, for she had made
a long mental journey quite apart from her bodily trek
through the forests of the wudlings and down the waters
of the Stilchis.

From the time she had been spirited into the keep of
Lothar the Pale, she had pursued one goal—her return
to her homeland. For two years, that single objective had
stood at the center of her existence. Still, there existed a
woman within this Princess, and that woman now wished

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172 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

to speak with Palamon at greater length than during their
previous exchanges.

She had watched him for weeks and he had filled her
with questions. He was very attractive. But there was
more to him than that. Her mind often strayed back to
that awful moment when she had nearly been drowned.
She had known at the time that death had been upon her;

the instant had been a terrible one- She had awakened to
find herself lying in the sand beside the Stilchis with Pala-
mon's mouth clamped over her own, his wet lips guiding
the living breath from his lungs into her body. That touch,
that moment of closeness, was still with her.

But there had been more. What of the contest in the
Library of the Polonians, when he had offered his own
life for the lives of his companions? She had watched him
then as he had backed away from Usmu's fearsome axe,
seeking a way to outwit the monster. At that time also,
death had hovered nearby. It had filled the room and he
had faced it for all of them, smiling his grim smile. So he
was very brave, this knight, and honorable. And attrac-
tive.

But what of the other side of Palamon? What about
the questions that had gone unanswered? What horrors
lay hidden in the dust which bore his footprints? Beren-
geria had stood before Reovalis and had heard the old
sage speak to Palamon of incest. How had this brave,
honorable knight committed incest? What could he have
done? With whom could he have done it?

So her mind ran. She sat at the long dining table, pon-
dering all these things and watching Palamon eat; the only
sound was the occasional click of his knife on his wooden
platter.

It was Palamon who finally broke the silence. "Prin-
cess," he said. "Although you said that you would come
and keep me company while I ate breakfast, still your
wordless tongue gives scant companionship."

Berengeria smiled a small, half-visible smile. "I must
apologize. I could not help but wonder at the vision you
just saw. Was she quite pretty, that lost love of yours?"

Palamon did not stop chewing. Would he talk about it?

DENNIS McCARTY              173

Would he be that open with her? It took a long time for
him to frame an answer but he did speak at last- "I never
met a lady who was not all pleasing to the eye and fair
to see."

"You try to fence with words and parry my hard ques-
tion. But she meant a deal to you. She must have, to have
brought you such great pain."

"She was an honest, honorable girl, beset by evil for-
tune without cause. To me, there was no more- That's all
she was," Palamon said with an air of complete honesty.

"You did not love her?"

Palamon glanced across the table at her. A smile crept
onto his face. "No."

"But how, then, could you enter into this illicit love,
destroy your standing with the Knights of Pallas, knowing
that you would become an outcast even to this time. was
love not strong between the two of you?"

Palamon paused in his eating. Her note of exasperation
had stopped him for a moment; he looked at her, then
reached across the table to pluck a single cherry from a
bowl of fruit which lay between them. He ate this viand
in a series of tiny bites and placed the pit carefully on his
platter. "I did it so that, as the years crept by, I could
excite the curiosity of maidens fair, such comely ones as
you, and thereby lure them well within my reach."

"You toy with me, brave Palamon- Do not."

"What would you have me say?" Palamon asked. "I
cannot change my past; it has been formed and it is what
it is. Must 1 explain all things unwisely done? Must I relive
the pain I brought myself?"

"Of course not. You speak truth; I was unfair." Ber-
engeria's head turned and her eyes strayed toward a cor-
ridor opening from the far end of the dining hall.

Palamon looked at her. "Unfaimess cannot be a prop-
erty of such a maiden fair as you are. I spoke falsely if
you read my words that way."

"You toy with me once more, but let it pass."

Palamon had emptied his platter by now. He had eaten
only a small meal; still, he seemed satisfied. "The food
is good- Reovalis' odd arts—whatever else I think of them

174 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

aside—produce a quality of table fare with which I cannot
find a truthful fault." He pushed the platter away, stood,
and walked across the room.

Berengeria followed him with her eyes. She could have
asked him why, if the food had been good, he had not
taken more. But there would have been no direct answer
to that question. Not from him. But what was she to say,
then? "You are upset. You need to walk a bit, at least
take exercise or do some work to let your body burn your
spirit's woes."

"My spirit's woes." Palamon turned to gaze down at
her. "My spirit's woes? What must you think of me, 0
gentle maid? Am I repulsive and reptilian, and does my
sordid past not make you blanch?" He turned away. "I
had been happier had I remained a handyman within the
Silver Knight. I was a cipher then; I had no past."

She lowered her head and gazed at the floor—but not
for long. She looked up at him once more, and their eyes
met. Her words were clear, direct. "Good Palamon, I'll
not believe those words. Your past was with you long
before we met; I see your very soul's an open wound."

He did not reply. It was plain that much of his glibness
had been sheared away by the morning's events; he had
little left for the present conversation. He wore the look
of a man who had taken a beating from the inside out. A
mocking expression began to crawl onto his lips but it
was only a weak attempt. His curtain wall had been
breached. His resilience had been exhausted.

"At least you do not smile and try to jest," she said,
"when jesting is the last thing in your heart. Your stout
facade at last has crumbled; I can see a little of the man
within."

He stood beside the table and gazed at her silently. He
did look weary.

Now she stood and walked toward him. He did not
retreat- "Dear Palamon, remember we are friends. You
have no need to guard yourself from me. My hand's
extended; let us take a walk."

He sighed, drew himself up, then spoke. "A walk, you
say? Yes, that would suit me well. But where, in this great,

DENNIS McCARTY

175

ancient catacomb, could any person find a place to walk?
I doubt that we'll find sights to ease our souls by strolling
down these torchlit corridors. If you will deign accept my
company, we might at least return along the path that
leads down to the riverbank below."

Berengeria smiled. "No, that's not necessary, Pala-
mon. I know a place a hundred cubits off where there are
flowers, orchards, gentle sights, and it would give me
happiness to go and show them to you, walking by your
side."

'Then lead on, gentle maiden. I would fain see sunlight
for awhile."

Berengeria reached for his arm and pointed toward the
doorway on the far side of the chamber. "This is the way."
Together they walked into what was obviously a kitchen,
from the great hearth and the cooking utensils which lined
the walls. Then they passed into another room from which
spiraled a great, bronze staircase. It was an object of fine
workmanship. There were no torches lighting this cham-
ber because the bright shaft of sunlight piercing down
from above made torches unnecessary.

Berengeria turned to Palamon. "You see, we three have
all had time to tour this lair of the Polonians' long halls.
The food you ate comes not from magic's art but rather
from a process more mundane."

She suddenly seemed to be bursting with a huge hap-
piness. She laughed at the expression on his face, then
led him up the ringing stairs to the world above. Silently,
Palamon followed the whimsical lead of this robust maid.
What was he to think, after all? He had been reared in
the Fastness of Pallas, far from any female companion-
ship. By the same token, his few years in Buerdaunt had
been spent without associating with the female element
save for the innkeeper's wife, who had been left as chaste
and sacred as Pallas herself, as far as Palamon had been
concerned. So the tall knight's only experience with a
woman had been what had passed between himself and
Ariaine, the raven-haired specter from his past. That had
hardly been a proper apprenticeship for dealing with the
young beauty who now danced up the steps ahead of him.

176 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

He followed Berengeria. For the first time since their
journey had begun, she seemed to have thrown off the
weight other royal position. She was only a happy young
woman a score of years in age; a full eighteen years Pala-
mon's junior. But this was still her game to play, not his.

At the top of the sprial staircase, they emerged from
a small marble enclosure to find themselves in the garden
Berengeria had spoken of. It was a charming place,
breathtaking in its beauty. It was a symphony of immac-
ulately trimmed fruit trees, grape arbors, row upon row
of carefully tended vegetables, and beds of cunningly cul-
tivated flowers. But there was not a soul to be seen.

Palamon gazed across this unexpected bit of loveliness
in the barren setting of the Cauldron of the Stilchis. "And
Usmu tends it all."

"That is correct. At least Reovalis has told us so."

Together they strolled beside a bed of bright flowers.
The setting seemed proper for her: she was in her element
in the midst of these blooms and the other growing things
of the garden. Her femininity was accented without loss
to the great strength of will that balanced her nature.
Palamon looked at her longer than he meant to.

They rested on a stone bench and Berengeria sat qui-
etly for a moment, her eyes tracing the massive cliffs that
surrounded this oasis. Then she looked back at Palamon.
"Now do you know. Sir Knight, Ursid, our gallant friend,
is growing a strong jealousy of you?"

Palamon was nonplussed by this information. It was
not a total surprise; the young warrior had cast unfriendly
glances in Palamon's direction in the last few days. Still,
there was little for Ursid to be jealous of. Palamon was
a Knight of Pallas, inside at least, and the possession of
a woman was something to be kept beyond arm's length,
whatever his past might have held. But he was still flat-
tered to hear that the younger man considered him a fit
rival. He smiled at Berengeria- "He strives for your affec-
tion, does he not? In watching hot young men from many
lands, I've seen a heart in love build enemies from whole
cloth, placing them at every hand. When lovestruck eyes
hoard every sign away, equating every move or gesture

DENNIS MCCARTY

177

seen as germane to the quest the heart has set, then what
is just a simple, passing glance can seem to be a setback,
verging on catastrophe, directed the wrong way."

The slightest twinkle brightened Berengeria's eye.
"Suppose our brave Ursid has some just cause to see you
as a rival, Palamon?"

"He has no cause." Palamon spat the words out, then
stood, turning away from her.

"Suppose he knows the way I feel toward you?"

Palamon turned again and gazed down at her, stunned,
his jaw working. "What could he know? Whatever could
you feel? I am a time-scarred, scandal-tainted man and
there could be no love between us two. I grant that you
have been inside my thoughts, but you are the Princess
ofCarea and heir unto the throne of that great land. Ursid
need not have jealousy of me."

She did not answer him in a direct way; her eyes swept
away from his and her gaze paused on the trees that formed
the orchard. "I think that jealousy has ill effects on any
person who possesses it; its weight is great on any shoul-
ders, though they may be male or female. Paiamon, do
you know that I, too, was riddled by this same emotion's
thrusts an hour or less gone by."

Palamon had no answer; he could only stand and stare
down at her.

"When old Reovalis forced you to gaze into the Glass
of the Polonians and great tears rolled from your two
manly eyes to look once more upon that maid you loved,
a feeling gripped my heart that could not be described,
except to say that it shot pain and envy through my soul
until I gasped. I gaze into your eyes and tell you now
that, even if I live to reach my home and gain Carea's
crown, become her queen, and thus could make my fair
land great once more and go down in the annals of that
land as 'Berengeria, Carea's Saviour Queen/ it could not
give my soul so great a joy as I would feel if only I might
see that same expression on your face once more, if that
one time those tears could flow for me."

Palamon could not tear his eyes from her. How could

178

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

he ever have affected this maiden in this manner? "This
cannot be."

"Palamon, speak tme. Is there some chance, though
slender it may be, that you might someday have the love
for me that you once bore for that fair maiden then? 1
take no count of scandals long gone by, for your past
errors merit no concern. I only see before me what you
are at present time, and what I see is good, fine, manly,
brave, intelligent. And if you feel dishonored by the past,
then cast it off and be my knight without a past." She
stood as she spoke, placing her hands upon his shoulders
and gazing into his eyes.

This was all too much for Palamon. This fair maiden—
fair in every sense of that word—was not for him, if for
no other reason than the fact that he could not see how
the fates would ever allow such a match. But what could
he do? The only phrase he could find was a weak one.
"My ears will not accept the words you speak." Having
said that, he would have turned from her but there were
many forces warring within him.

Her fingers glided down the trunks of his arms until
they reached the cordy joinings of his wrists. He did not
move his hands; she took them in her own and lifted them,
holding them against her. "I am the master here, that's
obvious. Your own heart's feelings will betray and sap
you, Palamon- No discipline from any school of knights
can wring emotions totally from you."

He shook his head. "I've looked on you at times. That
I admit. Your beauty draws my eyes, my will is weak.
Still, all the passion I may feel for you must be discarded;

it's a travesty on that to which I dedicate my life."

She did not bother to reply- Her hands released his,
traveled back to his shoulders, and rested there lightly.
He stood stiffly for a moment, his face reflecting the war-
fare that was taking place behind his expression. They
drank in one another's gaze. Then he reached out and his
arms settled about her waist.

The moment was like a night full of lightning. She came
to him, pressed herself against him, and they stood cling-
ing to one another. While time's passage was marked only

DENNIS McCARTY           179

by the throbbing of their two hearts, he clasped her tightly,
reveling in the sensations he drew from the fullness within
her robe, taking both strength and a sense of foreboding
from the embrace. His mind reeled as he was washed by
a flood of unfamiliar feelings. In the time that their bodies
had touched, he had crossed a line between what he had
been and what he was now forced to be. He was in love.
He knew this. even though he had never before experi-
enced the full depth of feeling contained within that simple
term.

He was in love; he loved Berengeria and he knew it.
That sudden, overpowering knowledge staggered him. Was
it safe for him to feel this way? Did he dare love her? No,
he did not. Their arms slipped apart as he dropped onto
the stone bench, glancing away from her as she sat down
next to him.

"You feel it, too," she said. **I know this, Palamon.
The love that has been formed between us two is not on
my part only."

'That is so."

"You share the passion that I feel for you?"

"I must own that I do. 1 have no heart to disavow the
love I know we share." His mind raced; he was searching
for words. There were so many wrong words and so few
that were not the wrong ones. "But there can be no match
between us two, for I am what I am and you are you."

She grasped his arms, forcing him to face her. Her
hands were rough after the travail of the past weeks, but
beneath the skin they still bore the quality of hands that
had been formed to grasp the scepter. Now they turned
him and the two unmatched lovers gazed into one anoth-
er's eyes. 'That cannot matter if it's not our will," she
said. "You can discard your past, dear Palamon. Some
way can still be found; it can be done."

He could not take his eyes off her. "It shall not be, my
darling—that you are. In this brief moment, you have
taught me love, a gift that brings me joy and dark despair-
For all of that, we shall remain apart, for what I am and
what is past are one; my past is what I am; it will not
change. I also cannot be restructured at a whim. So what

180 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

has passed between us, though it is a beautiful reflection
of a thing that could have been, had we not been our-
selves, must now be put aside. Our love is like the Gorgon;

just to look on it is death." He twisted free other embrace,
stood, and strode toward the enclosure that led back into
the corridors of Reovalis.

His pace quickened as he heard her call out behind
him; he walked rapidly, then sprinted down the steep
bronze steps. He did not hear her following him; he doubted
that she was. But he did not slow down. Through the
underground halls he dashed, through the dining chamber
and the study, and through the shadowy library of the
Polonians- On he ran. He did not stop until he had reached
the banks of the Stilchis itself where it flowed quietly, far
below the abandoned temple.

Chapter Eighteen:

Gifts

PALAMON LINGERED BESIDE the river for a long time.
His conversation with Berengeria had complicated mat-
ters beyond measure. Before, the issue had been simple—
return Carea's Princess to her native land and reclaim that
land from the curse of Alyubol. But now he was faced
with the dilemma posed by Berengeria herself.

The question was not, however, whether to love her.
That issue had been decided for him. Palamon conceded
this, smiling bitterly as he flicked a small stone into the
gliding waters. The touch of her body, her voice, her face,
even the feel of her breath upon the skin of his throat—
there was no training so ruthless, no discipline so harsh,
that they could withstand such delights. No, the decision
to love her was one over which he had no control. Now
the question was this: what was he to do about it?

He lingered beside the river until evening swept the
sun's golden rays from the swirling surface of the water.
But he had to go back to the library of the Polonians and
face the others sometime. And he had to face Berengeria.

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182 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

The four fugitives gathered once more about the table
in the underground dining hall where Usmu had laid out
for them a feast identical to the repasts they had enjoyed
there before. Reovalis was not present and Aelia looked
up at the flesh servant, asking whether the presence of
the old sage was to be anticipated.

'The Master will not be here," Usmu said. "He has
told me to say to you that he is in meditation. He did not
tell me what meditation is, so I hope you know what it
is," he added helpfully.

"It is a time of deep and earnest thought," Palamon
said, looking up at the wolfish'face and smiling. "A person
meditates at diverse times; religious thought, philosophy,
or what some person may have said that afternoon are all
fit food for meditation." He glanced across the table at
Berengeria as he spoke. She was eating her meal in tiny
bites; she had not looked directly at him since sitting

down.

Usmu looked at Palamon blankly. There was no hint
of comprehension in his eyes. "I don't understand all that.
But those were the words the Master told me to say to
you." He turned and walked toward the kitchen, moving
silently on his clawed feet.

The meal proceeded as it had gone before. There was
talk at the table. Aelia discussed the course they would
take when they had reembarked upon the river. Ursid
spoke of the need for proper weapons and wondered aloud
what stratagems their enemies were preparing at that very
moment; Palamon and Berengeria added small bits to the
conversation. But it was clear that neither of the two
lovers was concentrating on the topics at hand.

That very fact irritated Palamon, made him angry with
himself. Early in his career as a Knight of Pallas, it had
been drummed into him that he had to master the art of
centering all his senses on a single subject until that sub-
ject was consumed. But this evening, he found himself
unable to do that. Over and again, his thoughts floated
back to the young woman he loved and feared, separated
from him by only some two or three cubits of table,

DENNIS MCCARTY

183

although worlds may have stood between them in other
ways.

He would have spoken with her again, but he dared
not do it in front of the others. He hoped a chance would
come after the meal, but that was not to be- After eating,
Berengeria quietly excused herself and returned to her
chamber. Shortly after that, Palamon retired to his own
small cell; the evening and the night that followed it were
long.

After what seemed an eternity, Palamon managed to
fall asleep. He was awakened almost immediately by a
pounding upon his chamber door.

He sat up on his couch, collected his thoughts, and
went to the door, swinging the heavy wooden panel aside
to reveal the towering Usmu. "What is it?" he asked the
monster.

"Master says to come."
"Where is he? And what hour can it be?"
Usmu was already walking away as Palamon spoke.
He looked over his shoulder to answer. "He is waiting in
the dining hall. It's morning."

As Palamon watched, Usmu stopped to rap on another
door several chambers away. Ursid's head appeared and
Usmu repeated what he had told Palamon; soon all four
of the travelers were pacing along the corridors that led
to the dining hall-

Reovalis met them as they entered and dismissed the
flesh servant. The old sage seemed more grim than was
his wont; he bade his guests stand and returned to the
table, upon which rested an oblong case and a vial of
clear, golden liquid.

"My guests," he said, "the time has come when you
shall be my guests no more. To tarry long with me might
well advance your capture by your foes. For now, they
do not know where you are hid. A day, or half a day,
might change all that. Your cause is just; I'll give what
aid I can."

He paused for a moment, looked at Palamon, then
continued. "Before I tell you more, I must give thanks,
for you have brought perspective to my eyes. An old man,

184 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

living much too long atone, will form opinions of himself
that are, at best, distortions of the truth. My time with
you has taught me much. I might not be as wise as I had
thought; my aged eyes are not so filled with vision and
my brain not quite so free from human prejudice. This
shows that any man may learn—or teach.

"I said that I would choose the aid I gave and so 1
shall, while knowing better now that my decisions are not
free from flaws. Princess, you asked me of the hidden lair
of Alyubol, your father's enemy. 1 know him not; he hides
himself from me. But of his keep, this much I still may
say: look for a tow'r that cannot stand but does, a place
that gives back to the roiling sea the thing that makes its
waters what they are. I know not where that is but look
on it and you have found the keep of Alyubol."

Berengeria nodded her head. "I thank you, sir. I'll not
forget a word."

The old man turned toward the others. "I have another
gift to all of you which will, I'm certain, be of later use."
He turned and lifted the crystal vial from the table- "This
vial contains the essence of my art and all my study for
a score of years has gone into the liquid it contains."
Approaching Aelia, he handed her the vial.

She rotated the little piece of crystal in her hand, mar-
veling at the hues which bounded off the angles of the
Grafted glass. The liquid within changed colors with the
slightest movement. "This seems a bit of mystic work-
manship. But what, pray tell me, is the stuff within and
what effect has it upon our quest?"

'The liquid has been formulated by myself and cun-
ningly it was devised- When you are in dire straits, break
off the seal and shake the vial one time at what most
threatens you. But three times only may this vial be used,
and never will its liquids take a life."

"And what does it contain, exactly?" Berengeria asked.
But Reovalis smiled, shook his head, and turned toward

Palamon.

"0 Knight of Pallas, I feel it is you whom I have wronged
the most before the Glass. Now hear me, it was done

DENNIS McCARTY

185

I y

without intent. Your glistening chain mail also I removed,
and promised equal value in return."

"My mail would be most adequate," answered Pala-
mon, who towered over the aged wizard.

"I know that its return would satisfy. But still I have
not altered in my first belief that you would be a better
man without it. So to take its place, I offer you this sword."
He turned back to the table and with some effort lifted
the heavy box which had been lying there; the box was
longer than the old man was tall-
He carried it to Palamon, cradling the case in his arms
for the tall knight to open. "I bid you open this."

"I will, indeed." Palamon flipped the bronze catch which
secured the box's ornate lid. Carefully, he swung the lid
back upon its hinges, revealing an interior of soft velvet
laced with intricate designs embroidered in gold thread.
Upon this velvet couch reposed a great, two-handed sword,
a blade the length of a man's body with its finely crafted
handle and pommel a cubit beyond that. The blade itself
glinted m the torchlight and Palamon's instincts as a fighter
prompted him to take it up.

Lifting it slowly from its case, he held it before him in
wordless wonder. It was light- Its weight was no more
than what he would have expected from a much smaller
weapon. He wrapped his fingers slowly around the han-
dle, holding the sword before him in the guard position,
noting the way it melted into his grasp.

The blade had a savage look to it; Palamon's experi-
enced eye noted that there was none of the polish and
gleam of a weapon made for show. It had been made for
work—carnage, blood, and death; the double edges bore
the minute scars of tedious, careful honing. He glided his
fingertips across one edge noting the tingle produced
thereby. The heavy swords Palamon had seen possessed
a coarser edge than this one. There was no doubt this
blade would have shaved the mustache off his face, if he
had desired to use it to that purpose; the case's crafted
cover bore the dust of long neglect, yet the blade itself
appeared as if it had been honed within the last hour. How
it ever could have been used without blunting and knick-

f t

186

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

ing that fine edge was a mystery to him. "A noble weapon,"
he said, "most impressive. But what is its history, 0 ancient
sage?"

Reovalis smiled. There could be no mistaking his
expression; he had gained satisfaction from watching
Palamon's reaction to the sword. "I do not know the his-
tory of this great blade in full. I do believe, from what I
have deduced, that it was forged and tempered in the fires
built by the legendary smiths that lived on Muse, the
southernmost of all the outer Isles. Their race has long
since been disbursed by war, but in their time they crafted
cunning weaponry.

"It traveled to the hands of Parthelon, surnamed the
Great, who, with this mighty blade, assembled armies,
swept out of the north, and conquered all the lands that
lay about the Thiassa Mey. He formed an empire, named
it for himself, and cast his shadow far across the world;

yes, every map then drawn could only show the lands
that he proclaimed as his own fief. But this Great Empire
crumbled when he died and this great sword was spirited
away, out of the hands of all his striving heirs, concealed
with the vaults, then newly dug by this library's founders,
ages past. Here has it lain, unknown to all mankind, until
I found it many years ago." Reovalis spoke the last words
with obvious pride. As an afterthought he added, "The
name is scribed beside the pommel stone."

Palamon's eyes followed the old man's gesture. About
the pommel that blossomed at the end of the long handle
were letters so tiny they were hard to read. The inscription
was in the ancient style and tongue of the Great Empire,
which did lend credibility to Reovalis' statements. Softly,
Palamon mouthed the two words thus formed: "Spada
Korrigaine."              ,

While the syllables were still floating upon the air in
front of him, Palamon felt his fingers cramp about the hilt
of the sword; the weapon forged itself into his grasp. The
sensation was indescribable, more surprising than painful.
At the same time, also without conscious effort on his
part, he found he had again raised the weapon to the guard

DENNIS MCCARTY

187

position. Astounded, he looked up at the gleaming blade
he held. "Magic," he heard Aelia whisper.

"It's possible," Reovalis said. "The smiths of Muse
knew arts of weapons making long since lost to men."

"I spoke the name and felt it move, withal," Palamon
said. "I've held fine weapons in my travelings but this
stands fall as far above them all as..." He found himself
searching for a proper metaphor. "As our fair Berengeria
above all other woman." He glanced up at the maiden he
had just complimented, but her face remained without
expression. Aelia looked uneasy and Ursid fairly bristled.

Though the remark had been intended as a jest, Pala-
mon regretted it now. But the sword was the subject of
the moment. He laid it back down in the velvet-lined case,
then took the case from Reovalis and leaned it against
the rough wall of the chamber. He stepped back and spoke
the name once more. "Spada Korrigaine." No one in the
dining hall saw the weapon move. But the handle was
firmly set into Palamon's hands once more and the blade
was raised, ready for battle.

Reovalis studied the tall knight who in turn stared in
wonder at the marvelous weapon he had inherited. "The
trade, then, is a fair one, Palamon?" the ancient sage
asked.

"The trade?"

"Between your past and this, your future's key."

"My mail, you mean." Palamon hesitated. "It seems a
fair exchange, although if I were truthfully to speak, I
fain would have things as they were before."

Reovalis nodded, although it was plain that he was
disappointed with Palamon's response. "Then if you wish,
your hauberk will be brought. You bargain most unwisely,
Palamon."

"So be it." Palamon placed the Spada Korrigaine back
into its case, closed and latched the cover, and offered it
to the old man.

"Place it on the table there; unseal the case, ungracious
Palamon."

Palamon did as he had been told. Then he turned once
more to face his host. "Spada Korrigaine," Reovalis said,

188 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

his voice ringing through the chamber. Nothing happened.
The ancient blade rested upon its velvet cushion, looking
no more mobile than a common kitchen knife. "The bar-
gain has been struck, 0 Pallas' Knight. Your magic blade
shows no more love for me than I for it. It is the sword
of noble warriors and thus is, will you, nil you, yours to
keep."

Palamon gazed at him for an instant. "Be that the case,
my hands will take it up." With a sigh, he removed the
sword once more from its place and stood with it, resting
the tip upon the floor.

"And what of us?" Ursid's voice was loud and indig-
nant and filled the chamber. "One weapon will not serve
if we should be assaulted once again by those strong foes
who follow us about the ThJassa Mey."

"You'll find few weapons in these ancient halls," Reo-
valis said, eyeing the young knight narrowly. "All those
that can be had, one hunting bow, some daggers, have
been placed by Usmu down within your craft still lying
beached below." He let his gaze wash over all the mem-
bers of the party as he finished his statement.

"The things you need, provisions, weapons, gear, have
been provided and await below. My guests, I learn from
you more things than ever you begin to guess- But time
flows on. You must be to your quest while I return alone
unto my studies."

He studied them for another moment, then walked from
the chamber; from the other corridor came Usmu, bring-
ing a great platter laden with bread and fruits. The trav-
elers ate this farewell breakfast with little conversation.
Before they had finished, Usmu had reentered the room
and was now standing silently, watching them; all eyes
noted that he was once more bearing the great battle axe
with which he had greeted them when they first had found
the place. None of them could say for sure whether the
monster had simply found the weapon where he had hurled
it against the library's wall and had decided with his child's
brain to carry it once more, or whether it was a hint from
Reovalis. It had to be noted, however, that this weapon
had been withheld from the stock Reovalis had given them.

DENNIS MCCARTY

189

In any event it was obvious to all that their visit to the
Temple of the Polonians was at an end.

At the library's entrance, Usmu handed them a large
basket of fruit, and they took their leave. Without speak-
ing a word, he retreated into the shadows of the great
Temple.

At the foot of the path, they found their tiny boat
drawn up onto the beach exactly where they had left it.
But now there was more. The weapons mentioned by
Reovalis were lying in the little craft, along with all man-
ner of other provisions. In fact, so well supplied were
they that there were more goods than the craft could ever
have been expected to handle. For this reason, a raft had
been built, its Grafting so meticulous that it was plain it
had been designed by Reovalis himself. It rested upon the
beach, tethered to the boat by a line.

Quickly, the travelers examined the raft and the store
of provisions Reovalis had bestowed upon them. Then
they fell to the process of rearranging the stowage of their
goods, for they had become experienced watermen in
these canyons; they knew the measures that had to be
taken to prevent their supplies from being damaged or
lost-

Partway through this reloading, as Palamon was hur-
riedly retying a stout cord, he heard Ursid call Beren-
geria's name, and out of the comer of one eye he saw the
maiden rise and walk toward the sound. A moment later,
Palamon's activities moved him to a different position.
When he looked up again in the midst of his labors, it
was to see Ursid and Berengeria talking earnestly a few
paces up the beach.

The breezes swept the low tones of their conversation
from Palamon's ears; the subject of their speech was
something he could only guess at. But then he saw Ursid
take an object from his tunic and give it to the maiden.
It was a flower. Ursid had taken one of the blooms from
the garden of Reovalis, had kept it in his tunic, and was
presenting it to Berengeria.

Berengeria herself seemed nonplussed. Even from the
place where Palamon stood, her blush was apparent. She

190 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

spread her hands, seemed to force a smile, then said some-
thing which Palamon could not hear. She never once
seemed to look directly into the young man's face- At
last, at his urging, she took the blossom and used a loose
bit of thread to tie it to the mantle of her robe, above her
bosom.

Palamon grimaced. Ursid knew; as Berengeria had said,
the younger knight had sensed the shift in her emotions
and surely realized he was losing her. What a cruel prank
fate had played upon him. Palamon could not accept the
maiden's love for reasons that were numberless and partly
nameless. And yet, as hard as Ursid strove for that same
love, it was slipping away from him as relentlessly as
smoke through the fingers of a blind man. The poor lad.
Why did these things happen? Palamon went back to his
labors, tugging viciously at one of the cords until it
snapped.

It was late morning by the time they were finally ready
to reembark onto the Stilchis. They had rearranged their
bounty with care. The weapons had been divided. Ursid
had been awarded the bow because he had been judged
to be the best shot of the group. Each person had also
taken a dagger.

Carefully Palamon and Ursid pushed the raft off the
beach and into the water while the two female voyagers
paid out the line. Then, as the men stepped into the boat,
it, too, was launched. They seated themselves carefully
and all four of them set about learning how to control the
boat and the raft together.

But that was not difficult; the river had become slug-
gish in spite of the great volume of water it now bore.
Toward evening, the cliffs fell back and the current slowed
even more. Sandbars appeared everywhere. Weeds
sprouted here and there and the river itself became stag-
nant and foul smelling; the four travelers had to paddle
constantly to make any headway at all along this broad
flood with its idle current.

For the rest of the afternoon, they sweated at their
paddles. As the sun began to sink low ahead of them,
they beached their gallant craft on one of the largest sand-

DENNIS MCC.ARTY            191

bars. where they would spend the night. Crossing the top
of the dune, they found their labors had been rewarded.
Ahead of them, beyond a sandbar-dotted estuary, lay a
great body of open water. They had reached the Thiassa
Mey.

Chapter Nineteen:

The Thiassa Mey

IT WAS MORNING. The sun had not yet risen, but the
light of the new day streamed across the skies tike a col-
orful cloak, gilding the tasseled clouds and marking the
cliffs that fell away to the east. The waters about the sand
spit were still black and shadowy, but the rising sun would
soon turn them into a sea of diamond sparkles.

Berengeria was awake. At her own insistence, she had
maintained the morning watch, and it was now nearly
time for her to wake her companions. But one was awake
already. A few moments ago she had watched as Palamon
had sat up in his blanket, looked about, then stood and
walked up over the sandy crest of their little island and
toward the far shore, hidden from her by the dune itself.

This had not surprised Berengeria; nearly every morn-
ing since their escape from Buerdaunt, Palamon had gone
off to be by himself for awhile at sunrise. It was something
that was never mentioned, this habit of the tall knight's.
But it was then he prayed to his patron, Pallas of the gray
eyes and the wise and pure heart, Pallas, who heard each

192

DENNIS MCCARTY

193

•&'
"•..

-^

morning at sunrise the respects of all her Knights, wher-
ever they might have been across the lands that sur-
rounded the Thiassa Mey. Whether she heard the prayers
of a fallen Knight was a subject open to debate; never-
theless, Palamon had not wavered in paying homage
whenever possible.

Berengeria was sure what was in Palamon's mind,
because she doubted there had been any opportunity for
him to observe the rite in the underground vaults of the
Polonians. So it was with the satisfaction of an alchemist
seeing the predicted result of an experiment that she
watched her knight top the sand dune and disappear down
the far side. She had not been in Aelia's care all these
years without learning something.

The day's first zephyr twirled her hair into ringlets as
she stood and followed him. She had forgotten the events
of the previous day, the conversation with Ursid, the
unsolicited gift of the flower. Her desire at this time was
to speak with the elusive Palamon. She spotted him easily
as she peered above the sand dune; there was no con-
cealment on this island.

He was kneeling, facing the Thiassa Mey. The rising
breeze caused his white chiton to flap about him as he
knelt; the great sword lay in the sand before him. Ber-
engeria easily heard his words as she approached him
from behind, even though they were spoken softly. "0
mighty Pallas, gray-eyed Maiden dear, give audience to
one who calls thy name- Thy humble servant seeks not
wealth or fame but only that his prayers thou shall hear.
0 blessed patron, grant surcease from fear and let thy
power guide my arm and aim. 1 am a simple warrior with-
out claim but that thy aegis be forever near. Oh, guide
me in my quest to do thy will; bring succor to all those
who cannot speak to thee themselves. With power this
sword fill, that it might bring protection to the weak.
Through this imperfect world I seek thee still. Oh, grant
that I might find the things I seek."

Berengeria's fingertips floated to her mouth. She waited
in silence during the lone ceremony, for she was loathe
to break into the sanctity of this intense moment. And by

194 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

its design, the prayer was that; it was intense, unique,
and devout, and there could have been no doubt that
Palamon would have viewed any interruption as an act
of brutal sacrilege.

This very fact was the crux other difficulty. It troubled
her; for all its sanctity, this moment was a symbol of
Palamon's affliction with the past. He could not let go of
what he once had been. And until he could find a way to
do that, how much hope could there be for this new love
she bore him?

Still, she waited. Palamon prayed on, unaware other,
his words sometimes swept away by the wind, sometimes
carried cleariy to her ears. He was concerned for the
safety of his companions, he was concerned about the
legal continuation of the royal line of Carea, and, not-
withstanding his scandalous history and ouster from his
order, he was concerned about maintaining his remaining
faith and purity in the face of the world's temptations- As
she listened, it occurred to her that she was, perhaps, one
of those temptations -

At length he was finished. He remained kneeling for a
moment, his eyes fixed upon some point beyond the hori-
zon. Finally, with a sigh, he rose from the sand and brushed
off his knees. He turned and his eyes fell upon her, wid-
ening.

She started in spite of herself. "Forgive me, Palamon,
I meant no harm. Do not upbraid me for my interest; we
have to speak together, you and I."

A glare flashed across his face, but it faded quickly.
"Indeed, Princess, no bad thing may 1 say to you, who
have so totally consumed my heart. In fact, I wished to
speak with you and have for all the time that's passed
since you inflamed my soul upon that bench within the
garden of Reovalis."

"You have indeed?"

"I have. For what I said was far too short; it was not
courteous-1 spoke to you in haste, my mind all filled with
unfamiliar thoughts and feelings." He paused. His eyes
flicked away from her face. "1 cannot deny I love you
some. You are a most impressive woman, for your youth."

DENNIS MCCARTY

195

"You speak in earnest?" Berengeria's eyes were full
upon Palamon's face. She was vulnerable at this moment
and such a sight unsettled him.

"Yes, for once I do."

Without another word, she wrapped her arms about
him, burying her head against his chest. He stood uncom-
fortably, one hand at his side and (he other still grasping
the haft of the Spada Korrigaine. He did adore this Ber-
engeria. Yet he was unsure. "Ah, maiden, you do not
know what you do. My loyalty was pledged long years
ago unto my patron, Pallas. Earthly love, this passion for
a maiden such as you, is something I have had no school-
ing in. Such closeness as we share this moment is a thing
that must be felt to be believed." He sighed. Then he
moved his free hand and pressed her to him. "The bursting
of this love inflicts a wound more difficult to heal than
any slash I've e'er been dealt in tournament or war."

"I'm sorry, Palamon."

"Oh, do not be. The fault lies deep in me; had I the
strength-.." He became silent; the only sound was his
struggling breath. All at once he slipped to his knees and
brought her with him. The great sword slipped from his
fingers and fell, spraying the fine sand from its upset tip
as he threw his arms about her. He leaned his moustached
face upon the softness of her hair, feeling with his broad
hands the smoothness of her back, pressing to his own
chest the gentle swelling of her bosom.

She turned her head to the side and spoke. "I knew it,
Palamon. Although you hide your inner self, I knew you
had to love me, just as I love you."

"How did you know?"

"I knew because of times when I could see the shield
about you crack. You let no person see into your heart;

when watching you, that very fact's learned first. But still,
sometimes, when we two were alone, I thought I saw
those bastions 'round your soul give way somewhat,
though 'twas the slightest bit. Yet I knew then that love
was germinating in your soul, a love that was for me."

Palamon released her from his embrace, leaned back,
and looked at her. "Yes, it is so."

196

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

She smiled as she looked up at him- "You see, you met
your match when you met me."
"I've met my match before."

She went on, giving no notice to Palamon's dry remark.
"When we reach Carea, I'll be your bride; my father will
accept you, I know that. You've faced great dangers all
in my behalf and more, I fancy, lie *twixt here and home.
That much alone should make you dear to him. But you
are great and noble, Palamon, as shown but yesterday.
Your great sword is the proof. The Spada Korrigaine, the
Fairy Blade, the Sword of Emperors, once hammered out
by mystic smiths upon an ancient isle. It is your slave, it
comes upon your call. That proves you are of fine and
noble heart; that's what I'll tell my father when you plead
for my most willing hand."

"I'll not do that." The ache had swept down upon
Palamon once more, this time more voracious and over-
whelming than he would have believed possible.

"Do not be daunted, love. You'll gain my hand. As I
am a Princess, that much is sure."

It was hard for Palamon to force his words out. "My
dearest love—Princess—I still cannot, for all the love that
1 maintain for you, ask even once for your most blessed
hand. And even if 'twas offered, I would have no choice,
but must respectfully decline."

Berengeria looked up at him, blinking at his words.
Through the haze of her own tears, she could not miss
the pain, the agony that lay behind the eyes other knight.
Finally, through the fog of her own disappointment, she
found her voice. "You said I was your love."
"And so you are."

"Then why should we not spend our lives enjoined,
together bonded by this sacred love? What keeps us from
fulfilling this desire?"

"The past," Palamon said. "The past, the past. It is
my tomb. It is my prison and my torture, too; and for it,
I've no chance of winning you.'*

"Forget the past," Berengeria said. "It's done."

"I cannot do that."
"Yes, you can. You had a woman once, long years ago.

DENNIS McCARTY

197

The price for that was paid with your own shame. The
very gods would say your debt's fulfilled. The vows that
held you to your order then cannot still bind you now.
You were released when they degraded you."

"No, I was not," Palamon said. "My vows stilt hold
me firmly in my mind—as strongly as they did in younger
times when I was still a Knight. For these eight years, I
have not kept the rites, my prayers and other ways did I
forsake. While in your service, though, I have returned
to all my former custom; it is good. This love for you
makes me a better man, but I must demonstrate it from
afar, for though I'm fallen from those sacred ranks, a
Knight of Pallas am I in my soul."

He paused to gaze into her face, then went on. "I say
I love you; to our grief it's true. For all of that, our love
must stay within our hearts. I cannot bind my body to
your own though I would give my very life for that."

"You said you never loved the maid Arlaine and yet
you sacrificed your covenant to satisfy the lusting of
your flesh. That much I can forgive; a man may err. But
now, though your old order cast you out, and old bonds
hold you only in your mind, you still refuse my honorable
love, although you say you love me in return." Berengeria
rose to her feet, every inch a Princess, one hand sweeping
away hairs that the wind had blown askew. The flower
that had been tied to her robe had come loose; it fell and
the wind blew it skipping across the sand. But neither of
the lovers noticed that as Berengeria spoke again. "1 sac-
rificed my dignity for you and told you out of love the
way I feel. It is your right to spurn me, Palamon, but I'll
not open my heart again."

Palamon continued to gaze at her. What was he to do,
this miserable knight who returned her love, yet could
not accept it? What was he to say? He lifted his hands in
an empty gesture. "I do love you."

"But less than you still love your bygone days." With
those words she left him; he watched her as she made
her way over the top of the sand dune.

What other answer could he have given? A match
between the two of them was out of the question- His

198       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

past and his faith placed an unbridgeable gulf between
them; and there was something else, too. He did not claim
to understand the feeling, but above all the logical reasons
that separated them, there was his unshakable sense that
the forces spinning their fates would never allow their two
threads to become entwined. He knew that. For all the
love he bore Berengeria, he knew that single fact as well
as he knew his own name. And he sensed that he would
be inviting catastrophe if he ever weakened and mocked
those fates. He remained where he was for a moment,
then lurched to his feet. picked up his sword, and followed
her back.

Aelia and Ursid were awake by now and they were
watching Palamon as he approached. Ursid had noticed
what Palamon and Berengeria had not—that the flower
Ursid had given her was gone from her robe. The young
knight's face was alive with jealousy and frustration. "How
now, bold knight," he said. "Have you been guarding us
against some foray from the seaward flank?"

"Ursid." The sharpness of Aelia's voice caused the
young man's head to snap about.

Palamon's wit searched for a properly arid response
to Ursid's anger but he was not up to the task after having
spoken so openly to Berengeria. So he ignored the remark.
"We may have reached the sea, but our skin boat is hardly
adequate to brave these waves, though it has served us
well for many days. We therefore must decide what we
shall do—attempt to circumvent the sea by use of feet or
seek some vessel which can transport us."

"A matter I have given thought," Aelia said. "Both
paths lead into danger. If we go by land, our course is
mapped out by the coastline. Al! our foes need do is lie
in wait for us."

Palamon nodded, glad to put his seared brain to work
on a practical problem; maps were more easily dealt with
than maidens, it seemed.

Aelia continued. "If, on the other hand, our path should
cross the sea, we are presented with the problem posed
by transportation's woes. We must seek out a vessel first
of all; and once we find it, how shall we be sure the

DENNIS McCAJRTY

199

captain's not allied with all our foes?" From the way she
discussed the problem, she showed she had given it much
thought.

"Yet," Palamon said, "if we do advance our course by
land, can four unmounted persons pack supplies to transit
this long-desolated shore?"

"Indeed." She bit her knuckle thoughtfully as she looked
in turn upon each of her fellow fugitives, then out over
the rolling combers of the Thiassa Mey.

"Then let's choose one," Ursid said. 'The rest be
damned." There was no mistaking the fact that the young
knight was in no mood for long consideration of any ques-
tion. But to some degree, he was right, and his fellows
knew it; time spent idly at the mouth of the Stilchis was
time given back to Lothar the Pale and his soldiers.

"The farest course," Palamon said, "would be to wade
along the shoreline, towing our supplies packed on the
raft. At least we would advance somewhat while looking
for a fairer course."

It was agreed that this was the best plan, at least for
the moment- There were a few small trading ports on the
southern coast of the Thiassa Mey; perhaps upon reaching
one, they could find a quicker way to travel. Perhaps,
that is, if they could elude Lothar's agents long enough
to do so.

But as they breakfasted a better way presented itself;

a sail approached along the coast from the southwest. It
was a coastal merchant, perhaps, or maybe even a corsair
seeking plunder. In either event there was no doubt that
the four travelers would soon be spotted for the ship was
sailing only a few hundred cubits off the flat beach, taking
advantage of the morning breeze.

As the ship approached, they decided it could not be
a corsair; it was a tub-shaped little vessel, a merchantman.
Besides, a corsair would have been more likely to stand
out to sea, both to extend the amount of water across
which it could have searched for game and to give itself
sea room for maneuver. It was a merchant, then, headed
toward Buerdaunt, probably with trade goods from Ourms
or some other port.

200       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

That posed another problem; if she was bound for
Buerdaunt, how could they embark upon her for Carea
without exciting suspicion?

Aelia suggested a way. The vessel's captain would be
bribed to take them to the island of Kolpos, which lay in
the center of the Thiassa Mey, commanding sea routes to
all lands. The harbor of its only large city, Touros, shel-
tered many vessels and all classes of seamen; surely pas-
sage out of Lothar's clutches could be purchased there.

They prepared quickly. Aelia examined her purse and
found ample gold for her purposes; for the moment, she
and Palamon became minor nobles from the northern city
ofOron, taking Ursid back to marry their supposed daugh-
ter, Berengeria. Ursid enjoyed the role.

They hid the raft and boat, concealed their goods in
bundles, then walked out onto the beach, waving their
arms. They soon saw a response; a boat was lowered and
rowed toward the beach to investigate. Aelia told the
coxswain her tale and the ruse worked; they were taken
to the mother ship.

They found her to be a typical small merchantman, the
likes of which plied the waters all across the Thiassa Mey,
as well as the ocean beyond the Narrow Strait. She was
stout, heavy timbered, squatty; her single sail was a dis-
torted square of filthy, patched canvas. And she stank.
Like most of her sisters in the coastal trade, she was more
valuable underway, however slowly, than hauled ashore
in some seaport for careening. She had been at sea long
enough to ferment wonderfully, and the odor that rose
from her overcharged bilges prompted the new passengers
to go pale. Berengeria was forced to cover her nostrils
with her sleeve.

They had only an instant to marvel at the aroma before
they were introduced to the vessel's master, a puffy, self-
important fellow who called himself Schemeff. His thick
hair was black, his mouth was broad and leering, and he
moved and spoke with the air of the martinet. He eyed
Berengeria approvingly as he looked the foursome over.
"I'm told you claim to be marooned nobles from some
northern land. Should I believe that?"

DENNIS McCARTY

201

"What you believe is not of our concern," Aelia said.
She was playing the role of the matriarch now, and playing
it to the hilt. Palamon could see that it had been with
some wisdom she had been chosen as Berengeria's guard-
ian. "But if our speech, our bearing, and our dress mean
nothing to you, by my troth, you've never seen a blooded
person in your life."

Schemeff looked at Aetia narrowly, then his eyes again
traveled over her companions. It was clear he did not
appreciate her words. "It's all the same to me. You'll be
set ashore in Buerdaunt when we arrive. Until then, you
can keep your goods and yourselves upon the deck here
as long as you stay out of the way of my men."

"Buerdaunt is not the place we wish to go," she said.

"Oh, no?" Schemeff's wide mouth twisted in an
unpleasant grin.

"We want to sail to Touros, where we may take passage
on another vessel bound with goods unto Oron, our native
land."

Schemeff gazed at her in mocking disbelief. "And I
have to change my course to take you to Touros?"

"Indeed, you must."

He smirked- "Not likely- You'll have to make passage
from Buerdaunt." He turned away.

"And I refuse." Aelia stamped her foot.

He paused, looking back at the tall woman, impatience
causing the comer of his mouth to twitch. "Madam, I
don't know who you are but if you believe I'll change the
course set down by the owners of this vessel, then you
should be exposed upon the nearest hilltop, along with
any others you can find who might be as mentally diseased
as yourself." He turned on his heel and walked aft toward
the sterncastle.

"And what would be required to cause that change in
course?"

"It will never happen," he said over his shoulder.

"A golden price would purchase this old slime-encrusted
hulk. Would you then change your course?"

He turned to look at her narrowly. "If you spoke the

202      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

truth to my coxswain, you have no gold. You said brigands
siezed your ship and set you ashore."

Aelia smiled at him, a slow, enticing smile. "They took
our ship but could not find the gold." While he watched
with renewed interest, she pulled the blanket off the parcel
she had been carrying. Removing the upper contents of
the large fruit basket, she revealed a gleaming pile of gold
coins.

Schemeff was impressed. He retraced his steps and
stood looking down at the small fortune she was holding.
She presented the gold cunningly, holding it so the sun's
rays danced and sparkled off the heavy coins. Like an
angler enticing a fish, she baited her prey. "Your merchant
owners surely shan't object to passage paid above this
vessel's worth. A good deposit 1 will pay you now; the
rest I then can forward from Oron by messenger into the
owners' hands."

The ship's master cleared his throat as if the sight of
Aelia's hoard had given him a blockage. "I'm sure such
a large sum won't be necessary. Some hundred and fifty
talents would more than satisfy my backers and repay any
losses of cargo. And I can deliver that sum myself on the
return voyage."

This was the answer Aelia desired. Of course she real-
ized the gold would never reach the ship's owners. For
all his pompous words, Schemeff would pocket the money
and concoct an excuse for the delay, something he could
not have done if more payment had been coming to the
owners directly. She had him now; the trout had taken
the fly. She pressed her advantage. "How long, I ask, will
be the northward run to Touros?"

"A day and a night, I should imagine." Schemeff was
already gathering the proper count of gold pieces into a
kerchief while Aelia watched, holding the basket forth
generously.

"A place of shelter also is desired," she said. "To store
our goods as well as our own selves for the duration of
the voyage."

"Unfortunately that isn't possible. The hold is too dank
and musty for you and there's no other place except the

DENNIS McCARTY

203

deck itself. But the sun has gone without garments the
last few days. The weather should be fair for the short
time you'll be with us."

"But you yourself have quarters, have you not?"

"Indeed."

"Then that fair sky you say will smile on us can smile
on you with equal warmth and love. I've no intention that
this fair young maid—here Aelia gestured toward Ber-
engeria—should spend another night beneath the skies."
She offered a few more talents to the ship's master. "Now
come, sir, this should serve to heal the wounds from
vacating your cabin for the night."

This time Schemeff did not even begin to argue; he
gazed at the additional gold pieces with the air of a man
more than pleased to add to his take. It was remarkable
how his attitude toward his passengers had changed over
the last few moments.

The bargain was quickly struck, accounting for three
quarters of the gold pieces Aelia had begun the day with.
But as soon as the agreement was reached, she ended her
conversation with this most consonant captain; she
wrapped the remainder of her tender, took up her bundle,
and walked toward the stem of the tubby vessel- Palamon
and the rest followed after her like a squadron of lighters
in the wake of a great galley.

Schemeff took them to the low doorway leading to his
cabin, showed them the workings of the swinging lamp
and stowable bunks, then retired. When he had gone,
Berengeria closed the door and threw her arms about her
guardian. "Oh, Aelia, you are precious and without a
scruple. You would purchase heaven's gates for mortal
coin and make the mighty gods rejoice the bargain had
been made, I know."

"Oh, hush, my child. Until this voyage is done, we
must assume our every move is watched and every word
is passed unto our foes."

"Then very well." Berengeria relinquished her embrace
but there was still a smile lifting the comers of her mouth.

"Indeed, those words are true," Palamon said. "And
I suggest that when we all retire, one man at least stand

204      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

guard throughout the night, the same as when we camped
upon the shore- In fact, we're still encamped, although it
is aboard this tiny ship."

Ursid moved to the narrow window on the aft bulkhead
of the cabin and threw wide the shutters. Along with light
and fresh air, the opening also admitted sounds from the
deck above: commands and the scampering of sailors'
nimble feet as the ship was brought about and headed on
a new course. She would sail due north; the voyage to
Touros was beginning.

Chapter Twenty:

Schemeff's Bargain

IT WAS EVENING. The little roundship lumbered north,
driven by steady breezes as she carried the fugitives toward
the isle called Kolpos. Master Schemeff had been con-
genial to the point of nausea through the afternoon, a fact
which convinced Palamon the man would cut all their
throats, take their remaining gold, and cast them into the
sea at the slightest opportunity. He would bear watching
until landfall.

And landfall would be made before another day had
passed; there was no doubt of that. The mountains that
had stood as sentries over the Cauldron of the Stilchis
were falling toward the horizon behind them while the
blue hump that was Kolpos was rising slowly out of the
seas toward which they were plowing. Even at the snail's
pace of this little vessel, the land mass in front had grown
greatly since it had first appeared.

So Palamon stood on the stemcastle, leaned upon the
taffrail, braced himself against the roll of the ship in these
friendly seas, and inhaled the breeze that was sweeping

205

206      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

across the port quarter. This lull in the tension of their
long Hight was a welcome one, and he expected that Aelia,
Ursid, and Berengeria were enjoying it as much as he

was.

And what of Berengeria? What was he to do about
her^ She was not for him, that much was certain. How-
ever much he might love her, he knew her hand had to
go to some young prince or duke when the time came,
perhaps a Carean noble, perhaps a man from some other
land. That she would bring joy to the mate her father
selected for her was certain, certain, that was, if the match
brought joy to her. Palamon hoped that would be the case.
In any event, his own wanderings would (doubtless con-
tinue. What he would do, this knight without a country—
or even an order—was a question he did not choose to
ponder on this pleasant evening.

He heard a sound behind him and turned to see Aelia
climbing the ladder to the stemcastle, approaching him
across the high quarterdeck. "You venture far afield, my
Lady," he said. 'This broad deck is warrior's province
during battle, sailor's province on a day like this."

"That tiny cabin's far too close for me." Aelia stood
beside him, placing her hands upon the rail a cubit from
his own. Her fingers rested upon the worn wood lightly,
pensively. "I thought that I would come out for some air
and join you while you watched the rough waves roll."

"These waves are not as rough as you imply." He looked
down at her, smiling. She was a tall woman but he still
towered over her when they stood this close to one another.
"So you have left the young ones down below to pass the
time by what device they choose. A sea voyage, so it's
said, gives dalliance full rein."

She looked up at him and spoke dryly. "If that is so,
good knight, it's not Ursid who causes me alarm in that
respect, but one you know full well."

"Oh, is that so?"

"It is and that is why I ventured onto deck to speak
with you. Our dear Princess has, as you may already
know," she paused to look at him. "I'm sure you know
that she has now become infatuated with you, Palamon.

DENNIS MCCARTY

207

She is a willful maid and never rests till she achieves the
goal toward which she strives. Your feelings toward her
are something I know nothing of. However, as you surely
see, a group in flight lacks opportunity for feelings 'twixt
its members. Does it not?"

Palamon was expressionless. "I understand your
meaning and I shall repulse her lewd advances on all
fronts."

Aelia studied his features. "This is no topic for your
mirth, 0 knight. Th'effects of her attachment unto you
may well o'ertum the ship of our escape and I do not
make play on words. Our Berengeria must still return to
Carea or else all things are lost."

"Why yes, indeed. And yet I can recall Ursid's deep
love for her was nurtured by yourself because it was the
key out of Buerdaunt. Are your Princess' own amours
and hates mere matters of your kingdom's policy?" Pala-
mon turned toward her and leaned upon the taffrail with
one elbow.

"She's my responsibility. Upon the time when we have
reached Carea's shores, her life becomes her own once
more to lead. Till then, I do all necessary things."

Palamon laughed at her, a caustic, bitter, burning laugh.
There was no humor in it. Aelia shrank before such a
laugh, even from this knight whose bitterness had become
so familiar to her- "Ah, yes," he said, "Necessity, the
mighty god in whose great name we do all manner of
things—inflict harsh pain, cut life short, swallow up great
multitudes of hopes. I must bow down." He did just that,
kneeling before her and clenching his hands as if in wor-
ship. "Away with all volition. We shall do whatever's
called for by necessity."

"Hush, Palamon. By Hestia's sheer veil, are you quite
mad to rant so at one word?" She glanced nervously over
her shoulder at the ship's master, who was watching them
with an amused smile.

"Your pardon- I'll maintain a proper air." Palamon did
not speak another word. He rose to his feet and resumed
his position at the rail, his eyes fixed on the gentle swells
of the Thiassa Mey. His mind was no longer aboard the

208      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

roundship, however. It had been pierced by a harsh vision,
an interview within a most secluded chamber in the Fast-
ness of Pallas. Honor died at such confrontations.
"Necessity," he finally said. The word was spoken softly
but it was expelled like spittle.

Aelia gazed at the back of his head for a moment,
speaking words that went unheeded. Then she stood away
from the rail, watching him silently. She finally left-

Palamon turned his head and watched her go. She
descended the ladder to the main deck and vanished as
she returned to the master's cabin. He sighed. She was
right, of course—her thoughts on the matter matched his
exactly- The necessary thing would be done.

Palamon stood for a long time, watching out over the
waves as the land mass ahead of the vessel grew. The
eariy evening twilight slowly turned into night and the
land vanished, absorbed by darkness. He looked upward
and studied the stars smeared across the dome of the night
sky. There were so many. In such a confusing sky, how
did the star gazers chart the lives of men, he wondered.

When he finally went below, he entered the cabin to
find Aelia and Berengeria already asleep in the compart-
ment's two tiny bunks. Ursid was seated at the master's
desk, watching the tall knight silently, his emotions hidden
by the shadows. "I see you have the watch," Palamon
said in a low whisper.

"I have the watch. The ladies have the beds- You stood
on deck and they were both quite tired."

Palamon nodded and seated himself on a large sea chest
that stood beneath the shuttered window at the aft end
of the cabin. He was tired himself, but there could be no
sleep for him; his mind was too full of thoughts for sleep
to enter. He watched Ursid, who remained seated at the
desk, staring into the darkness.

The chamber rolled endlessly as the vessel wallowed
its way toward Touros. Then Palamon heard something.
There were lively footfalls echoing through the ship and
from the stem window floated sounds of the rigging being
shifted. He tilted his head and listened harder.

Ursid was also listening. But from within the blind

DENNIS MCCARTY

209

confines of the cabin, it was difficult to tell how much of
a rigging change was being made. Had the wind shifted,
forcing the sailors to reset the sail carried by the vessel's
single mast? Had one of Buerdaunt's war galleys appeared?
It was impossible to tell.

Palamon rose and jammed his head and shoulders
through the narrow window, attempting to obtain a view
of the decks above. What little he did see was enough;

the constellations he had gazed up at earlier had all rotated
nearly one hundred eighty degrees. Schemeffwas wearing
ship; the vessel was reversing its course.

Palamon pulled his head back between the shutters and
grasped Ursid by the shoulder. "Awake the ladies. We
have been betrayed."

"Can you be sure?" Ursid looked up at the older knight,
then leaped to his feet. While he roused the two women,
Palamon tried to peer through the cabin door, only to find
it barred from the outside. So silently had the deed been
performed that neither of them ever heard a sound. So
both men moved to the window again and took turns
peering up. Ursid, as the younger and nimbler of the two,
decided there was a good enough foothold on the molding
above the shutters for him to climb up, at least enough
to obtain a view of the quarterdeck.

It was quickly done. With Palamon's help, Ursid
squeezed through the narrow opening and hauled himself
upward until he could see. With his body hanging out
over the vessel's wake, he watched Schemeff as the cun-
ning shipmaster completed his orders for the course
change. Then while Ursid secretly watched, Schemeff
spoke with another man, one the young knight had not
seen before. But what Ursid heard said between the two
was enough to confirm his worst fears.

He wriggled back into the cabin and told the others all
he had seen. Even in the cabin's murk, his face was pale
as he whispered the news: "It was a captain of pale Lothar's
guard that I saw Schemeff speaking with. It was a ruse,
all done to get us onto this foul ship."

"And one most ably done," Berengeria whispered. She
was very downcast.

210      PLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Ursid went on. •'They sailed that coast on watch for
us for days. A score of Lothar's men were hidden in the
hold and all the sailors schooled to act adverse enough to
make us use some masquerade. But all the while, they
were to offer passage to the place desired by us and to
allow us to avail ourselves of this, the master's cabin.
And the bolt was fitted to the entrance for this charge."

"A doorway fitted to be barred without." Palamon
clenched his fist. "And we walked in, not noticing the
trap."

"Now what are we to do? What can we do?" Aelia
looked as if the situation was causing her to fall in upon
herself. "Can we have come so far to be thus trapped?"

Palamon was silent for a moment; they were all silent
as they stared into one another's dark faces. At last he
spoke quietly, with measured resolve. "Now we must
fight."

Berengeria stared at him- "You cannot fight. It's death."

"He's right," Ursid said. "It's also death for us to bide
our time and wait for them to come remove us to the keep
of Uncle Lothar once we've docked. For Lothar's men
cannot kill us more dead than he himself will, once he
has us there. And you, dear Berengeria, will be brought
back in any case, no worse off than before, although per-
haps more tightly mewed."

Berengeria cast her eyes onto the smooth wooden deck
of the cabin. "That fate I cannot countenance, withal."

"Then all the reason more we must resist our capture."
Palamon stood, his grim smile barely visible in the dark-
ness. "And besides, some hours ago, I was most sternly
lectured on the way my conduct should be shaped, not
by desire but by necessity. This I shall do. If we go to
our deaths, the gods will know 'twas from necessity." He
fumbled beneath one of the cots and withdrew the blanket-
covered bundle which contained the great sword given
him by Reovalis.

He unwrapped the weapon quietly, then held it up,
grasping the haft securely in his broad hands. He moved
slowly toward the barred door while Ursid1 strung the
longbow.

DENNIS MCCARTY

211

The overhead of the chamber was low, hampering Pala-
mon's movement- Even so, his muscles strained as he
delivered as hard a blow as he could. The blade was silent
in the darkness but to Palamon's surprise, it cleaved
through jam, door, and wooden crossbar with ease. The
shorn barricade burst, the pieces fell with a crash to reveal
a deck crowded with astonished sailors. There were oth-
ers, too, men wearing uniforms of the army ofBuerdaunt.

The roundship's deck instantly became a battleground.
Sailors fled, crying out. But despite the fact that they had
been caught off guard, the soldiers of King Lothar quickly
drew their longswords and advanced upon Palamon and
Ursid. Ursid had the time to fire only a single arrow before
a man leaping from the sterncastle grappled with him.

While the two men struggled, Palamon advanced stead-
ily, forcing back the men before him with his deadly Spada
Korrigaine. The blade cleaved a path of death, laying low
a pair of foeman on the first swing; their sundered trunks
toppled with motions that were grotesque, sickening. There
was also a groan from behind him; the voice did not belong
to Ursid so he knew the young knight had slain his antag-
onist.

The mighty blade enabled Palamon to dominate the aft
end of the deck. Rather than face him directly, the soldiers
attempted to outflank him, advancing with their backs
against the gunwales of the vessel. He leaped to his left,
forestalling an advance from that route, then had to re-
cover and dash just as quickly to his right. In the mean-
time, a half-dozen opponents piled down the ladder into
the fo'c'sle and the ship's hold.

Palamon heard Aelia's cry. "Their bows. Oh, Palamon,
they go to fetch their bows."

She was right. He had to reach the fo'c'sle compan-
ionway and prevent the return of the archers before he
and his companions could be slaughtered like so many
chickens. "Protect my back as best you can," he shouted,
and pressed forward with even greater effort.

He fought his way along the starboard rail. The steers-
man had already fled and the steering oar waved to and

212      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

fro, causing the vessel to wallow in the shallow troughs
of the Thiassa Mey. This made the struggle a clumsy,
haphazard business.

All the same, two more men went down before him,
hardly slowing his sword in its arc as it truncated them.
Their beheaded bodies were grisly trophies which rolled
across the deck, making the planks slimy with blood and
difficult to walk upon. But the fugitives were making prog-
ress. Now that he had vanquished his foe from the stern-
castle, Ursid was using his bow to good advantage, laying
low a man who was trying to advance across the deck
out of the reach of Palamon's sword. The singing arrows
prevented any repetition of such a tactic.

In the light that shone from the fo'c'sle hatch, Palamon
could see the archers struggling to climb onto deck. But
now the swordsmen were in fall retreat belowdecks,
blocking those who were trying to climb up- With one
last, mighty swing, Palamon sent his last opponent leaping
down the hatchway onto the shoulders of his fellows and
the tall knight gasped from exertion as he kicked the hatch

closed.

Having no more enemies before him, he turned and
looked about. The upper decks of the roundship belonged
to the four travelers. The only living soul still visible besides
themselves was the wily Schemeff, who remained on the
quarterdeck, apoplectic with astonishment.

But Palamon had a companion whose presence he had
not noticed during the battle- Behind him all the while as
he had wreaked his carnage with his sword had been
Berengeria, her dagger drawn. The plucky maiden looked
up at him as he turned. "My dear Princess," he said,
"you've courage, by my troth, but of your wisdom I've
few words to say."

"You said to guard your back as you advanced," she
replied simply. "I broke from Aelia's clutches and obeyed,
and there was little danger, for our foes all fled Ursid's
quick arrows and your sword,"

Palamon frowned at her. Had his foot slipped in the
gory mess spilled across the deck, her situation would
have become dangerous. Still, the deed was done. His

DENNIS MCCARTY

213

frown evaporated. After all, it had been a courageous act
on the part of this maiden and her presence behind him
had perhaps prevented the frustrated Schemeff from slip-
ping a dagger between his ribs while he was fighting.

Schemeff was the center of their attention now. While
Palamon guarded the fo'c'sle hatch, Ursid trained his bow
upon the shipmaster. "Come down, you scum, or else
your blood will flow."

Schemeff quickly did as he had been ordered. Ursid
searched him, removed a pair of wicked-looking knives,
and prodded him toward Palamon, who was leaning on
his sword now, his sides still heaving. "The situation now
has been reversed," Palamon said. "Short moments past,
you thought you had us snared; but we control your boat,
and all your arms and men are pinned beneath these boards.
Now you must tell them that this is the case. For if we
must, in desperation, we'll bum this vessel to the water-
line along with all our catch. Now speak your piece."

In unsteady tones, Schemeff followed Palamon's
instructions. Then he turned to the tall knight. "As you
seem to be the older and wiser man, I must tell you that
I was forced into all this. My ship was commandeered by
these soldiers. I had no choice."

Palamon gazed at Schemeff without expression. He
expected he had been a most willing vassal but the point
was not worth debating. "It matters little. When we go
ashore on Kolpos, then your ship will be your own. But
first, I think this vessel has a carpenter."

Schemeff nodded.

"Then fetch his stores, that we might seal this hatch."

Schemeff spread his hands weakly; all the fight seemed
to have left him. "I can't do that. The carpenter's stores
are in the fo^c'sle."

This presented a problem. How were the four fugitives
to stand guard over a hold fall of men and sail this cum-
bersome vessel all at the same time? It was a poser and
Palamon said as much to Ursid. Some way of sealing the
hatchway had to be found.

Now Aefia advanced. During the battle, as well as the
conversation with Schemeff, she had been standing behind

214 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the ship's mast, watching, drinking in all that had passed.
Palamon had forgotten her. He turned to look at her as
she spoke. "Perhaps we need not sail this clumsy craft.
The gift of wise Reovalis was meant to be employed in
any troubled times." She held forth her hand and in it was
the crystal vial. "Perhaps the time to utilize the first of
its three draughts is now."

So this was why she had not joined the fighting. Her
qualities as a warrior were limited by age, experience,
and inclination. Still, she had stood ready with an object
that might have been useful had the situation become
hopeless. Would it have worked? Would the liquid in the
vial have stopped the onrushing soldiers of Lothar the
Pale? That was impossible to say, but she had the perfect
opportunity to test its mettle now: the ship had to be sailed.
Already, it was difficult to be sure how far they had strayed
from their course. They could only bring the vessel about
and strike north in the general direction of Kolpos; their
course would have to be corrected when the island showed
itself at sunrise.

Palamon looked at Aelia, then at the object cupped in
her palm. "Then use the vial, for we have nothing in the
worid to lose."

With a deft motion, Aelia peeled the wax seal from the
top of the little vial- Then, her hands moving nimbly, she
shook it at the ship's mast for want of a better target.

A few drops of the glowing liquid squirted forth but
they did not fall to the deck. Instead, they vaporized
immediately; they formed a multicolored mist that spread
about the mast, spiraling upward like millions of tiny fire-
flies. The droplets glowed and spiraled, spreading out as
they rose until they had reached the masthead. Outward
they spread, casting a strange light upon the sailcloth until
the sail itself began to glow, entering the fabric the way
wine soaks into a napkin. Now, instead of flapping idly
in the breeze, the sail began to belly out with a life of its

own.

"Ursid, take up the tiller. Let us see what happens as
you steer to come about."

Ursid put down his bow and obeyed. Already the

DENNIS MCCARTY

215

ungainly vessel had picked up enough headway to heel
over a bit as he changed her course. He brought her about
until the sky's constellations had assumed their proper
positions, then Palamon checked him with a word. All
was lost in wonder at the magic light that filled the sail;

the jealousy that Ursid had felt for Palamon was a thing
forgotten for the moment. Even Schemeff seemed to be
overwhelmed by the sight.

Palamon caught himself. He could not allow the beauty
of Reovalis' art to distract him from watching over the
soldiers who were seething only a few cubits away. While
Aelia and Berengeria secured Schemeff to the rail, Pala-
mon lowered his sword, resting the point upon the deck
once more. He would have to call upon his iron will now,
for he had to remain watchful through the night.

And so the time passed. Palamon stood like a statue,
his concentration upon the fo'c'sle hatch never wavering;

Ursid. Aelia, and Berengeria took turns at the tiller.
Through the night the roundship glided forward, its single
sail aglow with the ancient, mystic art of Reovalis.

At last Palamon could stand up no longer. The battle
had worn him out; he needed rest. He had lost the stamina
he had once possessed as a Knight of Pallas; he could not
finish his vigil- He finally yielded his position to Ursid,
lay down upon the deck with his sword, and slept.

Chapter Twenty-one:

The Isle of Kolpos

THE NIGHT PASSED. As dawn flooded the Thiassa Mey,
Palamon's estimate of the ship's position proved correct;

the events of the night had set the vessel to the east of
the island of Kolpos. Still, the situation was not serious;

Aetia and Berengeria, who were manning the tiller together,
changed their course a bit, the magic breeze shifted
accordingly, and the vessel sailed on, driven as rapidly as

before.

Indeed, the clumsy roundship was making a speed
her builders would have thought impossible- As they
approached the southern coast of the island, it became
obvious they would shortly make landfall.

There was a broad headland which needed to be cleared
before the vessel could enter the long bay that formed
the natural harbor for Touros, the island's largest city. But
they had no intention of entering the harbor. Rather, they
would run the ship aground and walk the last miles over-
land to Touros, for they feared it would have been difficult
to enter the city anonymously on a captured roundship

216

DENNIS McCARTY

217

powered by a magical breeze. And so it was, as they
neared the final headland that concealed the towers of the
city, Palamon was awakened and the ship was steered
toward the broad beach.

Their breeze, receptive to their every whim, gained
strength as they approached the shore. It whistled through
the rigging and the ship heeled as they turned. Her rail
dipped dangerously close to the water. With every instant
she surged nearer land until the sand loomed before them
and there could be only a few heartbeats until they crashed.

At the last moment, Palamon retreated from his place
by the fo'c'sle hatch and grasped the ship's rail to brace
himself against the coming shock. "Protect yourselves,"
he cried. "Be wary of the mast."

Then the ship plowed into the sand. The planks and
timbers of the vessel's hull protested such punishment
with cracking and groaning, the men below shrieked, and
the mast snapped as Palamon had feared it would. It wav-
ered, there was a great popping of tackle, then it crashed
down upon the fo'c'sle hatch itself. That piece of equip-
ment was conveniently put out of commission for some
time to come.

Schemeff was still tied to the base of the broken mast.
Miraculously, he had not been injured. But he was pale
from fright, both because of the grounding of his ship and
his narrow escape from the falling timber and also because
a memberless body had been jounced across the deck and
now rested comfortably against his knee. But he remained
as securely tied as ever.

Mindless of the attendant body, Aelia knelt at Sche-
meff's side and felt for his purse- "The money that we
gave for passage, sir, was taken under false pretenses. So
I feel a refund is in order." With these words she cut the
bulging purse from his belt.

"My Lady makes a passing decent thief." Palamon
watched Aelia's activities with a smile. "To strip a body,"
here he nodded at the grimacing, struggling Schemeff,
"which appears alive, while headless corpses nuzzle at
your side; methinks your worldly fortune is assured."

"I've no time for riposte, fair Palamon. But if necessity

218      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

makes me a thief, by that same token we are brigands
all." She tired Schemeff's purse to her own sash and flung
a few coins back into his face, causing him to wince as
the heavy disks struck. "There, sirrah. Thus, I pay you
for our fare."

In the meantime Palamon looked at the hatchway to
assure himself that it was still held securely by the fallen
mast, and Ursid and Berengeria took some fruits from the
store of food they had left in the master's cabin. They
grasped their weapons—Ursid had wrenched a sword from
one of the corpses lying upon the deck—climbed over
the rail, and dropped into the breakers below. The ship
was so canted now where she lay beached that the star-
board side was practically in the water. It was with ease
that the four of them made their landing.

This beach was broad and sandy, ending in low, grass-
covered bluffs. The foursome quickly climbed the nearest
bluff. They found themselves on a grassy savanna that
stretched away and upward until it ended in rocky hills,
sparsely covered with scrubby trees and the olive groves
of the Kolpians. They hurried toward this range of hills.

Once they had reached the trees, they looked back
down upon the vessel they had just left. So far there was
no sign of activity. Still, their erstwhile captors would
soon batter their way back onto deck and the pursuit
would begin again. But this time Lothar the Pale's soldiers
would have to seek the four of them in an unfriendly land;

there were no bonds between Kolpos and Buerdaunt. As
for the roundship, she had been grounded so firmly that
even high tide would not be likely to free her- In spite of
these things, Palamon knew there would be a search; if
the quarry could not be recaptured, there would be little
doubt that there would soon be more bodies to torture in
the presence chamber of Lothar the Pale. The pursuit
would be furious, once it was resumed.

They made their way northwest toward Touros, keep-
ing to the rocks; after going a way, they found a little
stream bounding down a boulder-strewn course and they
turned to follow it. The sun had barely shortened their

DENNIS McCARTY

219

shadows to the midday point when they encountered an
ancient dame, pounding out her laundry upon a stone.

The emotions of this unschooled old woman were bru-
tally tweaked as she looked up the hillside behind her to
find herself accosted by this extraordinary group of
strangers. They were carrying fierce weapons, and all of
them but one were attired richly, though their garb showed
hard wear. "The gods defend me," the old one cried, her
hands flying to her face. "Please don't harm me. I have
nothing, nothing."

"Old soul, we would not harm you for the world," Aelia
said in her most soothing tone. "We ourselves escaped
from evil men a little while ago at our great risk."

The aged one continued to stare up at them, her fears
allayed a little. "Truly, you don't have the look of thieves.
But you reek with blood, especially this fellow with his
fearsome sword." Here she gestured toward Palamon.

Palamon looked down, actually gazing at himself for
the first time that morning. To his surprise, he found that
his arms and the cloth of his chiton had been drenched
with gore, both his own and that of his foemen. He had
been so intent upon his duties during the night, as well
as the later details of their flight across Kolpos, that this
matter had eluded him until now. He looked at his com-
panions. All of them had been splattered with blood, though
none had been drenched to the extent he had. Surely the
four of them would have made a grim spectacle entering
the city of Touros, decorated the way they were. "Old
woman, I was painted in this way in honorable battle with
those foes my Lady speaks of."

"We need your aid," Aelia said. "Do you live near this
place?"

The old woman gestured along the steeply sloping
streambed toward the thatched roof of a hut just visible
between the trees. "I live in that house with my daughter
and her husband- We live poor lives here on what we can
scratch from the soil and what my son-in-law can bring
home from the fishing boats. Be gentle with us; we have
nothing for you to take."

"What is your name, old woman?"

220 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

"My name is Disciola, Lady."

"Good Disciola, we are in dire straits," Aelia said. "We
dare not ener Touros as we are; our clothing by itself
would advertise us to our enemies- We must have clothes
that mark us as no more than common folk. You see, we
seek return to our own land and fear we shall be waylaid
undisguised."

Since it had become apparent that she was in no danger
of being robbed or killed. Disciola became more friendly.
"My Lady, a change of clothing can be had by yourself,
the young Lady, and the young Lord. If simple clothing
is all you need, my daughter's clothes, along with the
clothes of my son-in-law and myself, can be made to suit
you." She looked up at Palamon hopelessly. "As for you,
bloody sir, I don't know what to say. There's not a piece
of clothing in our poor house that will suit you, tall as
you are."

"Obtain the clothing that you can from here," Palamon
said to Aelia. "My simple tunic shan't stand out at all if
we can clean it some."

Aelia and Berengeria both shook their heads. "That
cannot be," Aelia said. "The bloody rivers that have
drenched that cloth will ne'er be washed away without a

stain."

Berengeria brightened. "Then, Palamon, a tunic can
be made from clothing worn by Aelia and myself. We two
have linen ample for the deed if your own clothing is to
be replaced."

Aelia turned back to the old woman. "Tell me, good
Disciola, can you sew? Stitch up a tunic for this bloody
man and there's reward enough for many chores."

Disciola peered back at Aelia, gathering up the wet
clothing that lay beside her at the stream's edge. "You
bear the faces of honest men and women, for all your
bloody conditions. The gods bid us to be generous in our
use of strangers. Follow me. My daughter and I will garb
you anew, and you needn't impoverish yourselves for the

sake of it."

Most of the day was spent in Disciola's hut, washing
away blood and dirt, caring for wounds, burying Ursid's

DENNIS McCARTY               221

tattered uniform, donning the new wardrobe they hoped
would let them enter Touros undetected. When Aelia at-
tempted to pay the two women in gold for their services,
Disciola and her daughter were astonished at the weight
of her purse. To these poor folk, the merest portion of
such wealth was a greater fortune than anything they had
ever laid eyes upon.

The four fugitives then set forth for Touros, their dag-
gers concealed inside their clothing and Palamon's great
blade wrapped in a blanket. It was evening by the time
they saw the lights of the city twinkling below them. The
shapes of the stone buildings were barely visible in the
waning light, and beyond them washed the blue of the
bay. There was a forest of masts in the harbor, enough to
guarantee a ship to take them to any possible destination.

They found a simple inn as they followed the road into
the city. There lodging was purchased for the night. Pala-
mon, who had visited Touros before, inquired of the inn-
keeper where passage could be obtained to Carea.

The innkeeper shook his grizzled head and frowned.
"You'U not be traveling to any western port for awhile.
Buerdaunt's ships are sailing blockade a league off Cape
Lookout and they've cut off all shipping in that direction.
No declarations nor nothing. All traffic that way is
stopped."

Palamon grimaced. Lothar the Pale had countered their
every move and beaten their strategy before they had even
begun to act. There could be no doubt that he fully under-
stood his quarry.

The tall knight turned away, walking slowly back to the
table where his companions were sitting with the inn's
other patrons, devouring roast beef, bread, and wine- He
approached Aelia and touched her on the shoulder, whis-
pering in her ear when she turned. "I have foul news.
Once we're alone, I'll speak."

Aelia nodded and the meal went on. Palamon ate little,
picking at his fare until the inn's other guests rose and
departed to their chambers, one by one. At last, at a word
from Aelia, the foursome rose; they went to their own

222 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

rooms and there Palamon repeated what the innkeeper

had told him.

Ursid smacked a fist into the palm of his other hand.
"Does Kolpos have no navy to protect its trade from
interdict by Lothar's hand?"

"It is a simple land," Aelia said. "And commerce is its
blood. For ages, navies of the lands well served by Kol-
pos' ships have acted to secure this island's shores."

"Indeed," Berengeria said, taking up Aelia's line of
reasoning. "And who can act for open trade along the
western lanes but Carea? 'Twill be a while at best, ere
word is passed to Berevald, my father, and he acts."

Aelia nodded. "And even then no ships may come, for
who's told Berevald that we've escaped?" Gloom settled
upon the chamber. Was there no way for them to outrange
the grasp of Lother the Pale?

The suggestion was made that they take ship for one
of the northern ports along the Thiassa Mey—Oron,
Danaar, or Gesvon—and travel overland from there. But
that thought was dismissed as being too risky. If Lothar
was blockading all trade with the western ports, it meant
he was as aware of his quarry's options as they were,
doubly so when one considered his success at countering
their every move so far. It was likely that all ships were
being stopped and searched, which would leave them
trapped, if they were found. Their next encounter with
Buerdaunt's soldiers would not be as fortunate as the last
ones, considering they now had a score of war galleys to
contend with.

No, there was only one proper course. They needed
to find a captain capable of slipping past the blockade,
no matter what the price. Such a thing surely could be
done; Kolpos was an island of smugglers. The blockade
would simply elevate the price of passage.

It was so decided. Palamon and Ursid would set out
in the morning to seek such transportation. The two women
would barricade themselves inside thear own room with
Ursid's bow and Palamon's sword. To separate this way
was an unpleasant arrangement but it was necessary; after
all, Lothar's agents would be searching for two men and

DENNIS McCARTY

223

two women, primarily Berengeria herself. Two men alone
would be less conspicuous than the entire foursome would
have been. Besides that, there was no way of concealing
the great weapon, other then by keeping it hidden behind
a locked door.

Armed with the gold ofAelia's purse, the two men set
out to scour the waterfront and alleyways of Touros to
find a ship; it was a weary search and the first day was
wasted without result. Not only was that frustrating, but
each day they spent upon Kolpos strengthened the grip
of Lothar the Pale. The soldiers left caged in the hold of
Schemeff's vessel were doubtless free; they surely had
informed the proper agents, and the net could only grow
tighter.

On the second day of searching, Palamon and Ursid
gained their first real lead. It took them to a little fishing
village north of Touros, at the extreme northern end of
the bay. They were put into contact with a man called
Phatyr, to whom they spoke in a seedy tavern which reeked
with the odors of too-old fish and too-new ale.

This Phatyr was a rough-looking fellow. He entered the
place alone, said a word to the tavern keeper, and then
sauntered to the comer table where Palamon and Ursid
were sitting. He was no youth; he was about the same
age as Palamon. His face was hard, the skin tanned like
leather and creased from squinting into sunsets, shoal-
bound harbors, and the bottoms of too many tankards of
ale. The short growth of beard that masked the lower half
of his face looked as if the black whiskers might have
been more easily pounded back into the skin than shaved
off.

His foul-smelling cape, sewn from the hides of the giant
seals that swam in Kolpos' rocky waters, rubbed against
his leather jerkin as he settled onto the bench opposite
them. He studied their faces intently with the look of a
surgeon. Palamon found that to be an appropriate meta-
phor; the man doubtless intended to perform that craft
upon their finances before he was finished.

After a moment, Phatyr spoke. "I believe you men are
in a great deal of trouble to need my services."

224 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

"And does that matter?" Palamon asked, smiling.

"It does. Greater risks demand greater pay." The sur-
gery was beginning already.

"Money is of no concern to us," Ursid said carelessly.

"It is to me. The waters about us are crawling with
Buerdaunt's galleys. Does that have anything to do with
you fellows, by the way?" Phatyr sipped his ale from its
tankard, eyeing the reaction produced by his question.

"And if it does?" Palamon responded.

"The price goes up. Poor men can't afford to be in
trouble in this world, gentlemen." He looked at Palamon
and a smile realigned his whiskers. "You told me what I
wanted to know, by the way."

"How can we know you'll not betray us, sir, and yield
us up to Lothar's ships yourself?" The words burst from
Ursid's lips before a stern glance from Palamon could
staunch their flow.

"Because I'm a businessman, my green young friend.
You can be sure I'll abide by the terms of the agreement—
but the agreement will be an expensive one. I'll not take
you out of the clutches of Buerdaunt's navy as a charity."

"Agreements have been reached before this time,"
Palamon said.

"Can you afford this one? I have seventy men to pro-
vide for in addition to all my other considerations."

Palamon spread his hands, smiling. "We have
resources."

"Gold is harder than resources. Five hundred talents."

"A somewhat largish figure, by my troth," Palamon
said, knowing that Aelia's purse contained perhaps half
that amount. "For such a sum, a craft most suitable could
well be built and outfitted and launched and we could
bypass all your services."

"Then do it."

"Three hundred talents is a worthy sum."

Phatyr looked into Palamon's face. He was searching,
probing for a sign of what the tall man's upper price limit
was. Three hundred Carean talents was a huge sum. Even
so, would the shipmaster be doing his duty by his follow-
ers if he did not attempt to get more? "You're fugitives

DENNIS MCCARTY

225

with many galleys straining this island's traffic for your
sake. My vessel is at risk. Four hundred is my bottom
offer; I'd be a fool to take you up for less."

Palamon looked at Ursid and they whispered together
for a moment. In reality, there was no new insight the
young knight could give; the-conference was for effect.
"Four hundred talents, then. A princely sum. The first
two hundred I will pass to you when we have gone aboard,
the rest shall not be placed into your hands until our
destination is gained."

There was finality in the tall knight's tone- Phatyr did
not question the arrangement of payments but turned to
a new point. "And what will be your destination?"

"The harbor mole of Lower Carea."

The shipmaster whistled and took another slow draught
of ale. The yeasty foam left froth upon his black beard
as he lowered the tankard to speak. "Then my crew and
I will be earning our four hundred talents. This must be
prize game, this cargo I'm going to slide between King
Lothar's fingers."

"If you should feel the task's beyond your grasp, then
say it now. We'll choose another route." Ursid's words
drew a stem glance from Palamon, to which the younger
man replied with a withering glare of his own.

Phatyr watched this bit of byplay with interest; clearly,
all was not congenial between the two men. He was silent
for a moment; his dark face was a thoughtful mask. "No,
young fellow, you needn't fret. I'll take the charge. But
remember this—everything that happens after the Pro-
teus leaves her anchorage will be at my choosing and at
my command. Is that understood?"

The two men across the table from him nodded.

"You'll be aboard my vessel by the time the sun rises
tomorrow."

"And so we shall, if you tell where it lies," Palamon
said.

Phatyr shook his head. "Nay. I'll tell no such thing.
You'll meet a man of my choosing at this very table at
midnight." He then described his contact and concluded
his instructions. "After taking all the precautions 1 order,

226 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

he'll bring you to the Proteus. We'll depart before sunrise,
running east along the coast until we reach the eastern-
most cape of Kolpos. We'll show the proper signal pen-
dants all that time, a single vessel making for Buerdaunt."
Palamon smiled. "Or so 'twould seem, withal."

"Or so it seems. At sunset we'll change course and
proceed north through the evening and the night, past
Mount Jephthys, past the Dark Capes, and into open water,
navigating by the stars. We won't turn west until we reach
landfall on the northern beaches of the Thiassa Mey. From
there, we'll hug the coast until we reach the Narrow Strait-
Fear not; this sea is large and many ships can hide upon
her bosom. Have I made myself clear?"

Palamon nodded. "You have. Now estimate our time
at sea."

"Using all sail and bending oars for the first part of the
journey, my vessel will make that passage in..." Phatyr
pursed his lips. "Perhaps four or five days."
"A rapid voyage, summing all accounts."
"A rapid voyage," Phatyr agreed. "Be back here at

midnight."

The bargain had been made- Palamon and Ursid
returned to the inn where Aelia and Berengeria had been
waiting. It was a relief to both knights to find the two
women still present at their arrival; there was no knowing
what Lothar the Pale's agents had accomplished during
the day. But all was well and the four of them made ready
for their escape from the island.

They set out from their inn after sundown but they
were still early when they reached the tavern. So they
left. They loitered about the quays of the fishing hamlet
while they waited, keeping the front of the tavern in view
to prevent surprises.

At the agreed upon time they returned. Soon after that,
they were met by Phatyr's emissary, an aging, one-legged
fellow who was wearing a sealskin cape identical to the
one worn by Phatyr. The words of recognition were
exchanged and they left together. Outside, they found that
he had come in a rickety, two-wheeled horsecart cov-
ered by a mildewed canvas tarpaulin and drawn by a horse

DENNIS MCCARTY

227

that appeared to have left its good years far behind it.
The messenger told them to climb in.

They obeyed, crawling one by one into the musty-
smelling bed of the little cart, lying down on splintery
boards and pulling the tarpaulin over themselves for con-
cealment. They listened as the old seaman climbed up
into his seat; indeed, it seemed to Palamon a wonderful
feat for the fellow to do so at all, considering his missing
limb. But he did succeed, with much clattering and shak-
ing of the cart. Then they were off, their ears filled with
the clop-clop of the horse's hooves as they were jostled
over the rough stones that paved this ancient waterfront
street.

It was impossible to tell how far they were traveling
in the noisy old cart. Still, the journey was not at all
unpleasant for Palamon; Berengeria lay next to him beneath
the tarpaulin, and he could hear her steady breathing as
they rattled along. It was a pleasure to be close to the
maiden, however strong the forces were that separated
them. He would have moved his hand across the fraction
of an inch which lay between them; he would have caressed
her. Still, that would not have been wise or proper. So he
tey beside her in the bed of the cart, taking pleasure in
their closeness.

He could have laughed at himself. He was nearing his
fourth decade, yet this maiden filled him with ideas and
feelings which would have been cause for amusement
even in a youth. He could not help feeling a little ashamed
of himself.

Then the heavy canvas moved. Berengeria turned onto
her side and rested her hand upon his shoulder. He was
touched, though her act made him uneasy, and he was
glad she could not see his face. Still, he was pleased by
the gesture. He brought his hand up and rested it upon
hers. After all, what harm could there be in that?

The cart clattered endlessly, continuing on its shaky
journey; after a time, it ceased jostling them over paving
stones and instead rolled through the rutted irregularities
of dirt byways. Once or twice, there was more jostling
and a gurgling rush as they crossed water.

228      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

At length the jostling stopped entirely and was replaced
by the sounds of many men working. Different voices
could be heard shouting orders or speaking in lower tones,
and in the distance there was the rhythmic chorus of a
crew manning a windlass. The cart shook as the driver
climbed to the ground. Then, with a suddenness that caught
them all by surprise, the tarpaulin was hauled back. There
was the sweetness of fresh air; Palamon was surprised to
note the change. The air beneath the tarpaulin had become
stuffy without his noticing it.

At the rear of the cart of stood Phatyr. He greeted
them with raised eyebrows as his eyes roved over the two
women. "You bring a prize catch with you, gentlemen.
I'll be hard pressed to keep my men at their oars in the
face of such beauty. Let me help these lovely ladies down."

Both Aelia and Berengeria were too busy taking stock
of their surroundings to pay much heed to the shipmaster
as he lifted them to the dewy ground of the anchorage.
Actually, it was not an anchorage at all but rather a con-
cealed slip. The sleek black hull of the Proteus, made
blacker by the darkness, occupied the width of a streambed
which had been dredged out to make way for her bulk.
Everywhere men were busily preparing the vessel for sea
by the light of lanterns that festooned the trees about and
also hung from the high mast and the towering bow and
stern posts of the vessel. The lantern light flickered off
the undersides of thick leaves. This was a snug harbor
indeed, guarded well from prying eyes by the thick foliage.

"We shall be prepared for sea well in advance of the
time I gave you," Phatyr said. On his dark, beardbound
face was pride in his ship and the lads who manned her.
"I suggest you go aboard and wait in the deck shelter;

we'll tow her into the bay when we can. The tide is already
at its peak; if we can catch the full ebb, we'll be well
begun."

They did as he suggested, allowing him to go with them
up the bow and onto the slender deck of the vessel. How
unlike SchemefTs roundship this craft was. Every line
exuded speed and suppleness, from the delicate sweep of
the bow and stern, to the lapstraked planking that formed

DENNIS MCCARTY

229

the narrow hull, and to the graceful mast and the sail
which was still furled-

Phatyr accompanied them to a deck shelter which was
no more than a canvas structure stretched upon poles on
the aft part of the deck. There, Palamon paid him the
agreed upon count of gold coins. He accepted with few
words. "Seats have been prepared for you within; there's
also bread and wine. We'll cast off lines shortly." He
touched his forehead as he smiled at Aelia and Berengeria.
"Good day, Ladies."

Then he was gone, his footsteps sounding along the
deck after he had left the gaily colored shelter. Without
comment, Patamon, who had completed the transaction
according to plan, handed Aelia's purse back to her. The
advance paid to Phatyr had left the pouch almost empty.

"A goodly vessel have we chartered," Aelia said. "For
my part, I now maintain high hopes that these gold pieces
were well spent."

"There's hope of that," Palamon said- "For by my tar-
nished troth. Pate Lothar's gallies might charge dearer
fare, for shorter passage, likely."

"By my faith," Berengeria said. "Nay, our most fertile
hope is with this craft. I've no complaint; you both have
bargained well." Here she addressed both Palamon and
Ursid. There was no slight here, but Ursid's reaction to
even this tiniest bit of attention paid to his imagined rival
betrayed his sensitivity. But Berengeria went on without
noticing. "IfPhatyr's navigation matches his appearance,
then I'm almost home." She turned her back upon all
three of her companions, pressed aside the shelter's can-
vas flap, and became silent. She gazed out at the seamen
who had nearly finished their preparations for departure.
After a moment, she spoke once more. "It is a thing I
cannot comprehend. I shall believe it when it comes to
pass." Then her voice trailed off.

Chapter Twenty-two:

Wind. Waves, and Warriors

WHEN THE MOORING lines were cast off, the stream's
current nudged the Proteus toward the bay. At the move-
ment and shouting, the four fugitives moved to the deck
and found the bulk of Phatyr's men seated at their benches;

tail, bronze-backed men who held their long oars verti-
cally, ready to unship.

The stream was little more than a canal here. Since
there was no room for the vessel to be rowed, a line
remained secured from her stem to the harness of a mule
driven along the bank. The mule strained along its tow-
path, keeping the ship from turning with the sweep of the

current.

It was a grand sight, that unfolded before the four
travelers. The lanterns of the tree-lined shelter receded,
the vessel was towed toward the bay. The mouth of the
stream was cleared, the last line was thrown free, the
muleteer waved a farewell, and there was the thump and
rumble of many pairs of oars being run out through the
gunwales. Then the Proteus thrust her stem forward,

230

DENNIS McCARTY

231

driven by scores of strong backs that worked forward and
back, forward and back, like great, sinewy metronomes.
The men repeated the movement endlessly, surging
together as if driven by the same spring.

The glow of day floated over the hills to the east, but
it had not yet reached the black waters over which they
were gliding. Little could be seen. Phatyr and his steers-
man guided the ship out of her snug harbor by guile and
memory. More than once Palamon heard the sound of
waves breaking over rocks, but the pace never slowed,
and the vessel did not so much as scrape bottom.

The lights of Touros soon slid past the port bow. As
the daylight grew, a few spires and towers could be made
out against the emerging hills. The tide was running; the
swiftness with which the city fell astern was impressive-

As dawn arrived, the fleet vessel approached the mouth
of the bay; before her lay the open waters of the Thiassa
Mey. As course was shaped toward the east, the mainsail
was set to catch a serviceable morning breeze; even so,
a number of men were left at the oars to increase speed.
And true to his words of the day before, Phatyr was flying
all proper identification pendants, as if his voyage might
have been the most ordinary in all the world.

Throughout the day, the passengers watched the island
of Kolpos pass along their port side. Phatyr kept his dis-
tance, a space of perhaps three leagues; mountains, hills,
and headlands passed in an endless parade. Toward eve-
ning the last promontory was cleared and course was set
due north, with less progress being made without the wind's
aid. The benches were full of rowers as the Proteus made
her way.

As darkness cast her robes across the Thiassa Mey, a
wind sprang up out of the southeast. Again the sail bellied
out and the vessel leaped forward in the freshening breeze,
her finely planked hull flexing with each surge as she rode
the waves the way Actea, goddess of the hunt, might have
ridden her palfrey.

The darkness became complete. The stars were invis-
ible on this night; clouds blanketed the sky and the wind

232

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

increased until it approached gale force. Still. Phatyr left
the sail set and his vessel pounded her way northward.

Their shoulders wrapped in furs to protect them from
the chill, the four adventurers flanked Phatyr as he directed
the ship through the darkness. Palamon noted a great
mountain on the horizon. Its summit was crowned with
fire; the red glow outlined the steep slopes and reflected
off the lowering clouds above it. He spoke to Phatyr,
raising his voice against the gale. "You have a mighty
landmark in these seas. Is there a name for yonder glowing

peak?"

"Mount Jephthys," the shipmaster said. "It dominates
the northern reaches of Kolpos, spewing up flame and
melted stone. It can be seen for many leagues, in day or
night. The peninsula to the north is called the Dark Capes
because it's all capped over by the mountain's belchings,
even to the very shore. It's a lonely land."

"And so you see to steer your ship at night?"

"And in the daytime as well. It's said that any of Kol-
pos' seamen who would count themselves navigators can
fix their ship's position within a cable's length, if only
they have a clear view of that mountain."

Palamon smiled. "Can you?"

"I can. The gale has set us west of the course I wanted.
Still, we're in safe water, a half dozen leagues off the
coast. If the wind holds, the Dark Capes will be off our
beam come daybreak."

But the wind did not hold. It increased, whipping the
sea into frothy heaps that dashed over the gunwales,
drenching the crew and forcing Aelia and Berengeria back
into the canvas shelter at the ship's waist. So fierce was
the wind, however, that even that sanctuary was hardly
drier than the decks.

At last the screaming gale forced Phatyr to order the
sail furled, which in itself demanded the greatest efforts
of his crew. And still the wind increased. The oars were
manned again in order to maintain headway; bailing began
and continued throughout the night. The glowing summit
of Mount Jephthys was obscured by the spray, but it could
sometimes be glimpsed falling south only a little and

DENNIS McCARTY             233

creeping ever nearer. Phatyr's look betrayed his concern
about the ship's lack of progress against the towering
beacon.

The night dragged on. Great combers rolled out of the
darkness and the crew labored mightily at the oars to keep
the Proteus' head into the wind. Whenever the winds
relented enough to allow it, Phatyr exhorted them, bidding
them to break their backs to gain as much distance north
as possible-

By dawn the fiery peaks of Mount Jephthys could be
seen south-southwest of the ship. The water-glazed rocks
of the Dark Capes were lashed by the sea only a thousand
cubits away. The storm had not abated at all; if anything,
the force of the wind had increased. No one needed to
tell the four passengers that the vessel was in peril of
being blown aground against this coast. The shore loomed
like gnashing jaws.

Braving the bucking deck, Aelia approached Phatyr as
he stood flanked by Palamon and Ursid, his face turned
into the wind in defiance of the gale, his black hair and
beard writhing as the gusts tore at him. Aelia reached
inside her robe and produced Reovalis' crystal vial, which
had been used to such good advantage aboard Schemeff's
roundship. "Sir Mariner, the potions in this vial, though
not yet well assayed, may offer hope against the weather's
threat."

Phatyr's eyes moved from the vial to Aelia's spray-
drenched face. "What is it?"

"I know not what the composition is, save that its
powers are prodigious."

Phatyr turned to bellow out orders, then spoke once
more to Aelia. "Thank you for the offer, madam. But I
put more trust in the seaworthiness of my ship and the
backs of my hearty men than in any potion. If you'll look
before us, we still gain against this foul sea. Gods willing,
we can still labor past this coast, though I've never seen
a transit of these Capes that was more plagued."

No sooner were these brave words out of Phatyr's
mouth, however, than the whooping wind redoubled itself
as if of its own will, to put the lie to what he had said.

234 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Oars bowed and cracked against the increased force of
the current and the hobbled vessel rolled near the black
rocks of the shore as if drawn by unseen lines. Exhausted
sailers slumped on their rowing benches while the wind
ripped at their clothing.

The Proteus heaved and tossed, sometimes vaulting
over a great swell, sometimes burying her stem in green
water. Aelia was swept from her feet, still clasping the
crystal vial. Palamon attempted to help her up and suf-
fered the same fate; they rolled in a heap at the shipmas-
ter's feet.

But Phatyr paid them no heed; he peered through the
spray and bellowed orders, although half of his words
were lost in the tumult. "I see a beach and a break in the
rocks- Row, you hearty fellows. Row for your lives. Bear
to port and we'll shelter in the lee of that promontory."

Scrambling to his feet, Palamon saw the place Phatyr
was speaking of. The tall knight helped Aelia up and ges-
tured toward it; it was a narrow strip of dark sand nestled
between two jutting points formed by the harsh black
stone of the cape. It was plain that Phatyr intended to
beach his vessel in this sheltered place to save his crew
from the worst of the elements.

Aelia turned her face up toward Palamon's. "Our cap-
tain does not trust this crystal vial- It's true its qualities
are not all tried, and yet I fear it is our savior still."

Perhaps her words were true; their situation would be
precarious even in the shelter of the tiny cove toward
which the ship was laboring. "Then do as you think best,"
Palamon shouted back.

All at once there was an explosion; a blinding bolt of
lightning struck from the black clouds, shattering the mast
into a storm of splinters. Palamon felt one of the wooden
missiles gouge into his cheek and he saw a flower of blood
sprout on Aelia's forearm; she had also been struck. But
the two of them were unhurt compared to those crewmen
who lay crushed beneath the severed timber; the screams
and moans of broken and dying men rose pitifully above
the howling of the gale.

The vessel lurched helplessly, reeling at the mercy of

DENNIS McCARTY

235

the elements. Aelia's crystal vial rolled upon the deck
where she had dropped it and as she reached for it, another
bolt of lightning hit the stempost, shattering it as the mast
had been shattered. Again Palamon and Aelia flinched
away from flying splinters, some of which could not be
avoided.

But another glance at the jagged shoreline showed that
the graceful Proteus was not to be crushed against cruel
rocks after all. The breakers slid her toward the sheltered
strip of beach anyway. Clinging to lines with his splinter-
pierced hands, Phatyr made his way down to the benches
to encourage the men who still could to row for the tiny
inlet, ignoring their broken cohorts for the moment.

And so it was done. By superhuman effort, with Ursid
and Palamon aiding at the oars, the crippled ship limped
toward the beach. The waves piling into the inlet lifted
her up and forward, then there was a shudder as she
grounded. Men were pitched off their benches by the force
of the blow. Another wave cast her even farther onto the
sand, and there she lay, beached as neatly as a fish hurled
onto a river bank.

Only now was there time to count wounds and mend
them- The dead and injured were carried off the still-
rocking decks of the Proteus and laid down on the dark
sand in her lee. Aelia and Berengeria themselves gave aid
to the victims of the disaster- And there were many. Of
the crew of seventy, a score had been badly injured; of
those, a dozen were dead or dying. Compared to this
carnage, a few wood shavings in the skin were nothing.

All the same, though Palamon belittled his wounds and
those of Aelia, Berengeria insisted on bandaging them
with strips of cloth torn from the mantle of her own robe.
Aelia was tended first, then Phatyr. After they had been
treated, Berengeria turned to bandage Palamon's hurts.

Palamon watched as she wrapped the deepest of his
gashes, which stained the cloth as it was applied, the
blood mixing painfully with the salt spray that had soaked
the fabric. He looked at her face. She was downcast, but
it was hard to read the extent of emotion that had laid
hold of her in the wake of this catastrophe-

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

236

Then he saw her glance up, directing her eyes along
the beach behind him. The color drained from her fea-
tures, and a gasp escaped the fullness of her lips. He
turned and looked to see what she had seen. A hundred
cubits from them came a great troop of warriors, men-
acing, white-robed men, brandishing great axes, long-
swords, cruelly spiked maces, and knotted war clubs.
Berengeria's stout heart seemed to fail her; she half-
swooned with a groan. "0 Hestia fair and all your godly
kin, defend us from the horror that comes next."

Palamon caught her as she sagged, lifted her, carried
her back toward the wooden walls of the Proteus. Here
at least, there was a bulwark against the attack. But she
quickly regained control of herself and pushed out of his
grasp. She reached into her robe and pulled forth a dagger.
"We cannot flee, my love. We'll stand and fight, and if
all comes to naught, then we fall here."

"Yes, we shall fight. But not to fall—to live." Palamon
caught her up once more and heaved her over the ship's
rail. "I'll have my weapon first." He vaulted in after her,
shouting over his shoulder as he went to retrieve the mighty
sword. "But fight to live—your duty calls for your sur-
render rather than your valiant death. To die when there
is hope is cowardice, and life is hope, however great the

pain."

He scrambled across the shuddering deck toward the
tattered canvas shelter. Inside, all was in disarray; the
sword was not to be seen amid the tempest-stirred mess
he found. In the frustration of the moment, he cried out
the name of his weapon: '"Spada Korrigaine'."

As it had in the halls of the library of the Polonians
when he had first uttered the title scribed upon the pom-
mel, the sword leaped up, scattering the blankets that had
lain on top of it, welding itself into his grasp. Without
pausing to reflect upon this prodigy, Palamon turned back
toward the battle that was developing upon the beach.

And he was none too soon. Already the pale-robed
forces had fallen upon the weary mariners, beating in
helmets and hewing limbs. Caught without a proper
weapon, Ursid fought gallantly with his dagger; the sea-

DENNIS MCCARTY

237

men responded to the attack with their bare hands and
what few weapons they could pick up. With a cry, Pala-
mon leaped over the rail and into a knot of milling war-
riors. Using the advantage of surprise, he struck at the
nearest of the robed figures, the deadly blade of the Spada
Korrigaine hewing into the wool as well as the chain mail
beneath.

It was a frightful struggle. All about him surged men
of both sides, maddened by the lust and passion of unre-
strained battle. He slashed savagely forward and soon
was surrounded by disembodied arms, heads, torsos,
cleaved in two, and gruesome bits and pieces of slaugh-
tered humanity.

Palamon was a fearsome spectacle. All the deadly skills
perfected in his questing years as a Knight of Pallas now
combined with the might of the Spada Korrigaine to pro-
duce indescribable butchery. It was his fighter's craft at
its most terrible. Even so, the battle was swaying against
the men of the Proteus; there were simply too many
attackers.

White robes were everywhere. Palamon saw Ursid go
down, his head and shoulders flowering with blood from
many wounds. And his heart sank as he saw Berengeria
surrounded by pallid figures upon her wooden citadel.
Her dagger flashed right and left but it was plain she would
soon fall. Even as he watched, the blade was wrung from
her fingers and her arms were pinioned while she writhed
and shrieked.

Then a voice boomed above the noise of storm and
battle. "Your Princess is taken; your fighting insures her
quick death. Her blood will flow unless your weapons are
lowered. Thus, yield."

As much from shock at this disembodied ultimatum as
from the logic of the command itself, the defenders low-
ered their weapons. And as quickly as resistance stopped,
the robed attackers suspended their onslaught.

There was silence; even the wind ceased its raging.
There was only the clank of arms and the sobbing of
Berengeria as she was hauled from the Proteus and hus-
tled up the beach. She was ringed by white-robed men.

238 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Some held her arms, some carried their deadly blades
ready to pierce her hostage flesh. Palamon*s breath died
within him as he saw her taken away.

Again the voice boomed forth. "Now, prisoners, follow
your escort. Rebellion means death. Who remains on this
beach but a moment hence forfeits his life."

The pallid army marched back up the beach and the
stunned crewmen of the Proteus followed. Palamon moved
to join the procession, but Aelia stopped him. "Come help
me, Palamon, for we must bear the body of Ursid. He
still has breath and so cannot be given up to death."

Palamon was dazed. The events of the night and morn-
ing would have strained any mind and soul to the breaking
point. Still, he mustered his will and responded to her
plea. "Then take my sword, for my few wounds are slight.
I then shall bear Ursid upon my back." And so it was
done. Palamon handed the mighty blade to Aelia and
grasped the fallen warrior, lifting him in his scarred arms.
Then they followed victors and vanquished up the beach
to their unknown destination.

Chapter Twenty-three:

Carea's Nemesis

AT THE UPPER end of the beach, there was a broad
path, or trail rather, worn into the black stone of the cape.
Berengeria was hauled up this path, her captors' weapons
poised and ready to make her life the payment for further
hostilities. For their part, the mariners—the few who were
still upright—were too battered to resist further. They
meekly accompanied the white-robed victors. Following
them was Palamon, who bore with difficulty the body of
Ursid, and then came Aelia, lagging behind the rest of
the party.

The trail was steep but the walk was a short one; then
the company reached a large, flat area surrounded by
more of the escarpments of the Dark Capes. Here on this
broad place, the captives were astounded to see a castle;

the place had been mauled and torn by the storms of the
Capes and it was of odd construction.

They passed through the worn gate and into the court-
yard of this edifice. The very stone had been eaten into
strange shapes by the sea spray and the rains. Upon pass-

239

240 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

ing the gatehouse, Palamon could see that this was not
remarkable; the place had been constructed of great blocks
of salt.

The company stopped in the courtyard of this strange
fortress and stood silently, waiting. The surviving crew-
men of the Proteus waited as well. The pause allowed
Palamon and Aelia to pass to Berengeria's side; she stood
as pale as death, still tightly guarded by a knot of the grim
warriors.

"This is the end," Berengeria said quietly. "You must
know where we are.'*

"Your duty is to live." Palamon put down the limp form
of Ursid. "Yield not to black despair and never grant the
easy victory."

" 'Look for a tow'r that cannot stand, but does; a place
that gives back to the roiling sea the thing that makes its
waters what they are.'" There was no life at all in Ber-
engeria's words; her tone was flat, her manner desolate.
"So ran the words of old Reovalis; we've found the place,
though it would have been better had we not."

Before Palamon could respond, a high iron portcullis
rang down behind them, insuring that there was no escape
from this saline citadel. He looked about. The inner walls
of the bailey were lined with cells that looked out into the
courtyard. Clearly there was no shortage of space for the
keeping of prisoners. Before them was the keep itself, a
shapeless pile constructed of the same weirdly sculpted
blocks as the rest of the fortress- As he watched, a figure
appeared atop the highest battlement of the keep. There
was no face to be seen, only a mass of pallid robes, the
same type of robes worn by the grim army that stood
silently below. "Now bring all the prisoners forward, for
I have desire to see them who wantonly trespass this
land." The voice boomed out from the figure upon the
battlement; it was the same voice which had ordered the
end to the struggle upon the beach where the Proteus had
been grounded.

One of the pale warriors answered. "We do so, 0 Mas-
ter." The entire company surged forward several paces.
All eyes within their wool hoods were fastened upon the

DENNIS McCARTY

241

pale specter speaking down at them; each soldier looked
up with devout attention. Palamon and Aelia also stepped
forward, as did Phatyr and his men.

"I see she's a beautiful maiden, as I often have heard.
Do not move a limb, for I now shall come down. AH
remember: struggle means death." The figure vanished
from the battlement without a sign, reappearing on the
stones of the courtyard directly before Berengeria. The
transformation was instant; it left the prisoners blinking
in amazement.

"Foul Alyubol." Berengeria's whisper was filled with
loathing and despair.

"Indeed I am Alyubol, master of all I desire. I laugh
that you fools were so stupid you did think to flee beyond
my long reach, all the while making simpler my task. And
now you have brought yourselves here." He smiled at
them and shook his head. "You will never pass forth."

He gloated into Berengeria's face, and she shrank from
him as far as the arms restraining her would allow. His
face was the quintessence of fascinating ugliness. His fea-
tures were wizened, pinched, sucked in upon themselves
as if each cell had dried out from mutual avarice and
distrust. The complexion was waxy, the face clean-shaven.
The sinuous lips curled across jagged teeth in a loathsome
sneer of triumph.

The sight of such a face and expression put spurs to
Palamon's tongue. "How can you heap continued pun-
ishment so gleefully upon the torments of this maiden's
blameless past?"

The face turned on Palamon, the hatred in the eyes
searing him. "Oh, how can I do it?" The words were
mocking at first, then they rose to an enraged scream.
"It's venegeance for wrongs done to me. For promises
broken,'for long persecution of me." He whirled back a
few steps and gestured toward the ragged body of men
who once had formed the crew of the Proteus. "First, take
these dogs thither; they'll feel more secure in my cells."

Not a word was spoken by Alyubol's soldiers. Most
of the white robed warriors escorted Phatyr and his men
to a block of the cells that faced into the courtyard. The

242 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

haggard men did not resist. If the long storm had not been
enough to break their spirits, the battle and Alyubol's
wraithlike appearance had certainly done so.

Carea's nemesis watched with satisfaction as the men
were locked away, the ponderous iron doors clanging into
place one by one. "This keep is my palace. It doubles as
prison, as well. Those cells have awaited my enemies'
bodies too long; for many a year have they stood. So look
well on them, fools. Let your own milky bones be my
gay decorations till doomsday."

"Our capture is quite purposeless to you, 0 Alyubol,"
Aelia said. "Our bodies shall consume nor less nor more
of victuals and drink than bodies of the most innocuous
folk. But ransom us to old King Berevald; that act would
gorge your fading years with wealth."

Alyubol began to laugh; his thin lips curled back and
the sound of his derision drifted out across the courtyard.
"Do you think, you dried-up old woman, that riches move
me? The ransom ofBerevald's pride is the fortune I crave;

the pride that brought hatred, made him cast me out when
he found that Goswinth, his queen, would have me over
him. And now I'm to give back the daughter of that senile
fool?"

The wizard roared with laughter. There was neither
mirth nor wit in his gaiety; he whooped at the image of
his imagined love rival, Berevald, brought to despair once
more by these machinations. And Alyubol believed Gos-
winth had loved him; Goswinth, who had never held any-
thing but loathing for the mercurial advisor. Clearly, his
mind had turned. Palamon gazed at him, grimacing at such
a twisted shell of what might once have been a genius. It
was the world's misfortune that ever Alyubol could have
been loosed upon it.

"Oh, Palamon, how could you yield us up to the hands
of this ill-favored man?" Surprised, Palamon looked down.
Ursid had revived enough to speak; he had been listening
to Alyubol's words and now he gazed at the Knight of
Pallas. "Far better we had died than fall'n to him- Dis-
honor is your history, from when you once dishonored
that chaste maid long years ago, until the present time

DENNIS McCARTY

243

when you elect to quit the fight alive. Our flight was
doomed the moment we were joined by such as you, you
base, ignoble man."

The wounded man's words pierced Palamon like fangs
but Alyubol did not give the older knight time to reply.
The wizard bent low to examine the young warrior. "And
you are the noble young man who turned traitor for love
and twisted the key that helped gain these two ladies
escape from my friend and ally, good Lothar the Pale. Do
not fret. I might send you back to the hands of your uncle
and King if you have the fortune to live, which I doubt.
You life ebbs away; you'll not be with us long."

He walked around the four of them, smirking as he
circled them. "I know all of you; I've kept track of the
lives of you all. Ursid gained your freedom. Princess,
because you were his love. How little you love him; it's
Palamon whom you love most." He snickered again. "But
that is pure folly as well. He can never have you, your
hand would be ever forbidden to him, were you free."

"That cannot be. His past transgressions are forgiven;

I would take him as he stands." Berengeria glanced over
her shoulder at Palamon. Her look tore at the tall knight's
vitals; he could see she was disputing Alyubol with her
heart only. She was fighting back from instinct. Her spirit
was nearly broken, yet she still stood by the dishonored
knight. His eyes almost revealed his thoughts with mois-
ture.

For his part, Alyubol savored his victim, timing his
next verbal thrust. "The love you may feel is most touch-
ing. Yes, there is no doubt. But still, it will come to no
more than the song of a jay." He half giggled once more
and paused to wipe spittle from his lips. "How much
should I tell you? Suffice it to say this amount: this knight
was left at the portal before the Fastness of Pallas by
parents too poor for his keep. I've watched him and all
of you; you have no secrets from me. This knight—as
you call him—will not vie for your hand. He cannot. You
might say he is worthless and low as the dust- Adaimo
and Orras, two serfs, left this worm-blooded knave."

Alyubol watched Berengeria's reaction with glittering

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

244

eyes- She said nothing; Hie bowing of her head told the
wizard of his victory over her. He laughed at her then,
his lean sides shaking with glee.

As for Palamon, his reaction differed tittle from Ber-
engeria's. His fears were confirmed. Alyubol had revealed
why that aura of intervening fate had always lain across
his feelings toward Berengeria; the decision over his union
with her was taken from his hands forever. The lowness
of his birth made him as unworthy to love her as the snail
to love the gazelle.

Alyubol gazed down at Ursid once more. "Besides,
this young man spoke the truth. Had this Palamon courage
to go with his high reputation, you'd not have been seized."
He turned to his somber minions and dismissed them with
a wave of one arm. "Go now, all you shadows, and dem-
onstrate how 1 have conquered."

One by one, the soldiers in this army of grim, pallid
warriors began to disappear. While the four captives
watched in amazement, their opponents in battle faded
into nothingness; they were illusory and there was not
even a wisp of smoke to prove they had ever existed.
Only the half dozen who surrounded Berengeria remained.

Alyubol faced his victims, once more reveling in the
way he had defeated them. "A simple illusion. Had you
ever failed to believe, the foreman you faced would have
faded as quickly as mist beneath the sun's brilliance. And
all of the wounds of Ursid were caused by himself, from
believing the blows of his foemen were real."

He stepped back a few feet. "Well enough. The frolic
has ended." He turned to one of his henchmen. "Do any
of these lowly worms bear arms in concealment, my ser-
vant Navron?"

Indeed, Navron stood before them now; they had not
noticed the evil minion among all the other white robes.
He shook his head. "The woman called Aelia still carries
the tall fighter's sword. Save that, there is nothing; their
weapons have all been thrown down."

"Disarm her. The sword can be broken or cast to the
waves. Then throw them all into my cells." Alyubol turned
away and strode toward the keep, his woolen robe sway-

DENNIS McCARTY

245

ing with his movement. Before him a tall wooden door
swung silently open.

Navron walked boldly to Aelia; after all, how could
she resist when keen daggers were being held to Beren-
geria's throat? But as he snatched the great sword from
her grasp, there was a snap, a flash of light, and he
screamed. He fell to his knees, wringing his seared hands
and cursing the astonished woman. The sword lay upon
the stones of the courtyard.

The sound caused Alyubol to wheel and face them
again. For the first time, the mad wizard seemed non-
plussed. "And what is this foolishness?" His voice was a
roar.

"The sword is enchanted. It burned me when 1 took it
up." Navron's lips were still twisted with the pain from
his burned hands; his words passed between clenched
teeth.

Alyubol's face changed. Rage replaced the mirth and
mockery that had been spread across it only moments
ago. And perhaps there was a flicker of fear, too- "How
could they have got such a weapon? What else have they
got?" The wizard extended both hands and walked toward
the captives- Before each one he paused, holding both
hands over each person's head in turn. Only with Aelia
was there any effect. She grimaced, as if in pain, her robes
moved slightly, and Reovalis' crystal vial floated up into
his grasp as if upon a piece of twine.

Alyubol stepped away, looking at the crystal vial keenly,
rotating it in his serpentine fingers. "It's magic—a rem-
nant of potion, of powerful art." He wheeled upon Aelia
and slapped her. "And where did you get it, you whore?"

The blow snapped Aelia's head back but she did not
respond. Her face was grimly set.

With a whine of fury, Alyubol struck her again. "Tell
me now or you die."

The blow sent Aelia to the paving. She rose slowly,
her nose streaming blood, her mouth and chin turning into
a crimson mask. With a cry, Palamon leaped at the attacker,
but Alyubol was nimble for all his years. He leaped away,
his face white with anger. "Oh, fool, if you move one

246 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

more time, Berengeria's blood will flow from a full dozen
wounds. Strike again, if you wish."

Palamon was rooted to the stone by those words. Even
as he had made his impetuous move, the henchmen of
Alyubol had pressed their weapons against Berengeria's
throat. It was clear they were only too eager to carry out
the threat. Even now, blood trickled onto her bosom from
one tip which had pressed her fair skin too far.

Alyubol returned to Aelia, striking her again, shoving
her farther away from her friends. "As for you, all your
magic is taken, for all of its art. My minions cry out in
the night for some sport; 1 may give you to them." He
whirled and flung the crystal vial against the saline wall
of the keep. It shattered and a small cloud of smoke rose
from the place where it had hit. Whatever hope it might
have contained now lay shattered with the fragments of
glass at the base of the wall. Aelia turned away, holding
her sleeve to her bloody mouth.

Alyubol reached forth again. He extended his fingers
over Palamon's sword and gestured; the sword rose slowly
from the paving, the way the crystal vial had risen from
Aelia's robe. Flashing and hissing, it hung in the air before
the wizard. He examined it closely. "My troth. 'Spado
Korrigaine* reads the inscription I see. The Sword of the
Conquerors, thought to be lost long ago. I thank you. Sir
Palamon. Once I have altered the stamp—the tempera-
ment shown by the metal—I'll turn it to my own ends,
for I doubt you're aware of the myriad tasks performed
by this weapon. For now, it will stay where it hangs." He
gestured once more and the sword rose to a height of
several cubits above the courtyard where it remained,
suspended by his mystical powers, as secure as it would
have been inside any vault. Tiny flames crackled and
played along the length of the blade as if the sword were
protesting its imprisonment but was unable to burst the
bonds which held it.

Alyubol turned from it with the air of a man who has
done satisfying work. He had humbled his opponents,
both individually and as a group. Still, one last thought
had crept into his brain, one last idea which needed to be

DENNIS MCCARTY

247

(    brought to fruition before he was finished. He stepped in
<   front of Berengeria. His features were aught with the bril-
liance of his thought.

|      He looked deeply into her eyes. She resisted the stare
^    but the men who were restraining her forced her to return
J    his gaze. "And you, my fair maiden, the fact has just
%    struck me right now that you are not far from the image
j.   ofGoswinth, the love that Berevald stole from me decades
J!    ago. We shall see." He mused for a moment, then advanced
.j   upon her, his thin hands grasping her shoulders, his breath
|   raping her nostrils as he spoke. "I'll wed you this evening.
I.   Till then you may rest with your friends."

^      Berengeria became pale as the baneful statement pen-
i   etrated her mind. Alyubol took no heed; he had already
I   disappeared through the door of his castle's inner sanc-
jJ   turn. The young woman sagged and her captors had to
H   carry her to her imprisonment.

The adjoining cells the four captives were thrown into
were more like cages than anything meant for human
occupation. They were cramped, dirty, and vermin-ridden.
Berengeria and Aelia were placed into one while Palamon
was prodded into another, bearing the limp form ofUrsid.
As the tall knight laid the young warrior down gently onto
the basalt floor of his cell, he heard Berengeria's sobbing.
He would have told her to take heart, to keep hope alive.
But any words he might have found would have been so
ludicrous he could never have uttered them. What real
hope could there be?

In the women's cell, Aelia slumped against a rough
wall, wiping her face with the mantle of her robe. Her
nose and cheek were still sore from Alyubol's blows but
the bleeding had at least stopped for the moment. She
was half-dead from fatigue. Still, she steadfastly rose and
placed her arms about the shoulders of Berengeria, who
was cowering in one corner, weeping as if her heart would
break. "My darling girl, would I could take your place.
But still, you cannot weep while there is time to rack our
brains for means of our escape."

"There's no escape. Our story closes here."
Aelia cradled Berengeria's head in her arms. They

248       FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

crouched together in a comer of their bleak cell, Aelia
and her charge. For twenty years the care of this child
had been hers; it could not end here. She whispered into
Berengeria's ear, "Do not lose hope. I say we have the
means." She lifted the hem of her robe. There, upon the
inside of one finely tapered thigh, was a nasty sore, a
carbuncle which appeared agonizing.

Without another word, once Berengeria had seen the
purulent mound, Aetia moved the hem back to her ankles.
As for Berengeria, she did not understand the meaning
of the exhibit. How could hope lie in such a mass of
diseased tissue? Indeed, how had her guardian even moved
without wincing all this time. Was that the meaning in
itself? If Aelia could harbor such necrosis without com-
plaint, could Berengeria, a Princess, yield to the weakness
of despair while she still lived? She dried her eyes upon
her own robe. She would weep no more.

Still, waiting could not be idle; something had to be
done or the ravages of despair would return. Rising, Aelia
went to the iron door of the cell. "How goes it with Ursid,
0 Palamon?" She hoped her voice was only loud enough
to be heard for a short distance-

"I have no pleasant words. I've bound his wounds with
cloth torn from my tunic. Still, in all, the blood that's
drained, I fear, shall end his life."

Without replying, Aelia returned to Berengeria's side
and slumped down. She mused upon the nature of Alyu-
bol. "His vision's not omniscient, that's a fact; he did not
know the Spada Korrigaine, nor how it came to Palamon's
firm grasp." She paused. "He does not know what passed
while we sojourned with old Reovalis, the goodly sage.
We know his minions* numbers are but few and one more
secret he himself revealed; by disbelief may we defeat his
host."

"We have one day," Berengeria said. "It is a sorry
plight."

Aelia brushed Berengeria's hair back with her long
fingers. "Now sleep, my good Princess, for it will come;

our opportunity for quick escape must not be missed.

DENNIS McCARTY

249

We'll have one chance, so we must rest ourselves, gain
strength through sweet repose's medicines."

Berengeria's exhaustion conquered her and she did drop
into a fitful sleep, dozing in the arms of her guardian. For
her part, Aelia pondered on, only occasionally succumb-
ing to the seduction of fatigue, dozing only for moments
when she did. She waited through the day, listening to
the crackling and fuming of Palamon's great sword. It
remained above the courtyard, held grudgingly by the
wizardry ofAlyubol.

And what of Palamon himself? What was passing
through his mind while he waited out the day beside man-
gled Ursid? Aelia did not know, but she hoped he was
also plotting escape; his aid would be priceless. She had
become fond of him. She would leave the dishonored
Knight of Pallas if she had to, but he possessed a stout
arm and he was Berengeria's beloved. Even though he
was of the lowest birth and most questionable history, the
royal maiden loved him; that much had become plain.
Their union would—could—never come to pass, but Ber-
engeria would fare better for the moment with him near
her. And for that reason, if for no other, Aelia wanted to
have him with them when they did attempt escape.

The day passed away minute by minute, hour by hour.
From the cells occupied by Phatyr and his sailors came
an occasional groan, but the two cells which held the four
fugitives emitted no sounds whatever- Palamon sat with
Ursid, who was barely breathing. The tall knight was lost
in thought, his head bowed upon his chest. And he did
plot escape.

Once, he went to the door of his cell to gaze out at his
mystic blade. "Spada Korrigaine." He spoke the phrase
softly several times but the only result was an increase
in the fire that played along the weapon's length. Alyu-
bol's magic seemed unbreakable- Sighing, Palamon seated
himself once more beside Ursid.

So it went. In the other cell, Aelia and Berengeria sat
together, sometimes sleeping, sometimes pondering and
picking one another's brains. Escape would be attempted
when Alyubol came for his bride; that went without say-

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

250

ing. The racking question was this: how were they to make
the attempt and survive? One thing was certain; they had
to find a way to help Palamon regain that sword which
crackled overhead, held in thrall by the powers of the
mad wizard. The two women even discussed this in whis-
pers. Alyubol had chided Palamon for not knowing all the
secrets of the wondrous weapon. But did Alyubol know
all those secrets himself? Did he know the Spada Kor-
rigaine's fealty to its new owner? In the past, Alyubol
had overestimated his own powers or position, as he had
when he had thought Goswinth had loved him instead of
her future husband. There was hope in this.

Afternoon came; the shadows of the saline battlements
lengthened. Berengeria fidgeted. She wondered when the
time of her ordeal would arrive. Then doors hidden in the
walls of the castle's turrets opened and white-robed fig-
ures began to file out, lining the curtain walls and the
towers, each one reaching his place, then turning to face
into the courtyard. Each one was carrying a longbow and
a great quiver fail of arrows. Berengeria's time was now.

Chapter Twenty-four;

Some Wonders

THE INMATES OF the cells watched breathlessly as the
portals ofAlyubol's sanctum swung open and several more
of the familiar, white-robed figures emerged, walking down
the twisting steps in single file. It was impossible to see
their faces- But as they approached Aelia and Berengeria,
it became plain that Alyubol himself was not among them.
The leader of the sextet was Navron; he reached the iron
door of the cell and poked through the grating with the
blade of his sword, forcing the two women back into the
interior.

Once they had backed away, the sword was withdrawn
and they could hear the rattling of key in lock. Then the
heavy door swung open. "The time has now come for the
union of you and your lord." It was Navron who said this.

Berengeria drew herself up and responded with a chill-
ing glare. "I do not choose to go."

"You haven't a choice in the matter; you'll walk or be
dragged." Navron's voice was harsh as he leered back at
them.

251

252

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Silently the two women approached the doorway, mov-
ing together. When the escape attempt came, it would be
better made if they had as free a hand as possible; Aelia,
especially, did not wish to be bound or restrained. So they
went quietly. But when Aelia tried to pass from the cell,
she was roughly shoved back in, Berengeria was snatched
out, and the door was slammed shut. Alyubol was not to
be tricked; only the maiden was to be allowed into his
presence at all.

Berengeria began to scream, struggle, and fight. It was
a part of one plan. Alyubol had to be distracted somehow,
although this task was made formidable by his absence,
and since Berengeria had excited his lust, it was hoped
that his henchmen would be slow to kill her-

So Berengeria bit, kicked, and clawed. AlyuboFs
henchmen dragged her toward the center of the courtyard,
but she fought back ably, clinging to the grating in the
door with her white fingers. They beat and pummeled her,
trying to break her grasp. Aelia shouted and screamed
also, straining to reach through the grating to aid her
charge. For his part, Palamon watched silently. He stud-
ied the great, two-handed sword suspended by Alyubol's
magic. Had the wizard been distracted? Would his grip
weaken? It had to be tested.

The archers on the walls were already nocking arrows
to their bowstrings as Palamon shouted out at the top of
his lungs. "Spada Korrigaine. Spada Korrigaine. Spada
Korrigaine." The flames that were dancing along the great
blade flashed and sputtered. Would the gambit succeed?
Palamon knew their lives would be the price if it did not.

The pale archers were at the ready but Palamon did
not fear them; Alyubol himself had demonstrated that the
legions of white-robed warriors were deadly only if they
were believed to be deadly- But Navron and his henchmen
were another matter; they were deadly indeed. They were
unlocking the door to his cell; soon they would be upon
him. "Spada Korrigaine," he cried. Could Alyubol, from
within his chambers, extend his power both to his illusory
minions and to his grip on the great sword? Was he that
superhuman in his wizardry?

DENNIS MCCARTY

253

But his hold on the sword was weakening. Flashing
and thundering in a war of magic against magic, the weapon
had, indeed, dropped a few cubits. It had also moved
closer to Palamon's cell. But there was now little time-
the door burst open and three ofAlyuboFs minions poured
into the chamber. The question would be decided now if
Palamon was to survive. He backed away from his attack-
ers, calling out for the weapon once more, then he held
his bare arm ready for the blow about to fall.

But the question was decided. There was an explosion
above the courtyard; the castle shuddered as the Spada
Korrigaine broke free from its magical fetters. Searing the
very air through which it moved, it darted, smoking,
through the doorway and into the hands of its master,
even as he was forced against the back wall of the cell.

Now things were different. The pale-robed henchmen
recoiled toward the door, their faces long with fear at the
sight of the murderous blade. This much respite was all
Palamon needed. With three strokes, his work with these
men was complete; their bodies lay in sections upon the
floor; their blood was pooling on the basalt.

Palamon leaped from his cell, ready to hack the rest
of the villains into pieces. But one was already fleeing:

Navron*s robes were flapping about his legs as he raced
toward the central tower. Already the air was whirring
with arrows but Palamon ignored them. He felled his
remaining opponents, then struck the lock that closed
Aelia's cell; the blade screamed as it cleaved through the
metal. The door swung back and Palamon stepped in,
dragging Berengeria with him.

Aelia spoke hurriedly- "We cannot tarry here; come.
let us fly."

"Indeed," Palamon gasped in reply. "But I must free
the other men."

"We have no time," Aelia said. "We do not know what
horrors may emerge to strike us at the whim of Alyubol."

"We still cannot forsake them. When they sailed into
this net, they did it for our sakes. The arrows will not
harm me; it will take a moment only to do what is right."
Even as he spoke, Palamon leaped outside, slashing at

254 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the cell doors amid a shower of arrows which rattled
against the paving like hailstones. Palamon swung down
on the hinge of each door in the row of cages; never did
he have to pause for a second blow. As Phatyr and his
men scrambled to freedom, the tall knight shouted for
them to ignore the arrows and to show their gratitude by
bearing Ursid.

Three of them did this, grasping the blood-caked form
of the young warrior and carrying him toward the gate.
They carried a number of their own wounded as well and,
with Aelia and Berengeria in the lead, they hurried toward
the closed portcullis.

Dark clouds were rolling and heaving overhead, hur-
tling along before a rising wind, drawing together and
lowering their bulging bellies toward the fleeing captives.
Here was a threat. Soon the lightning would come and
there would be no escape from Alyubol's rage. But there
was something else to fear as well. As Palamon pulled up
before the castle gate, he felt a blow to the calf of his
right leg. Looking down, he saw that he had been struck
by an arrow; already the blood streamed from the punc-
ture where the keen-bladed shaft had passed through.

How could this be? The arrows had to be illusions,
like the archers who fired them. But the blood was no
illusion. Even now, another man fell; he struggled weakly
to rise with a feathered shaft protruding from his side-
Had Palamon guessed wrong? Had he led all of them to
certain death? Some of the mariners cried out in panic.

But the archers had to be imaginary. An arrow struck
Aelia full in the back but did no harm, vanishing upon
impact. Then a thought came to Palamon: Alyubol had
outwitted them once more. His living minions had not
been at Navron's side when he had come to fetch Ber-
engeria, but upon the walls, among the illusory archers.
The men Palamon had thought he was slaying with the
Spada Korrigaine had been the illusions. So the danger
was now quite as real as if all the arrows had been made
of yew wood and had iron heads. Upon seeing a score of
missiles flying at him, no man could ignore some and try
to elude others; the addition of the few real ones created

DENNIS MCCARTY

255

a deadly particle of doubt. That was all that was needed
for the illusory arrows to take a greater toll with each
instant.

Feverishly, Palamon and a brace of mariners heaved
at the windlass which raised the iron portcullis; so might-
ily did the tall knight strain at the mechanism that his
hands chafed; blisters rose and began to bleed. But he
ignored the pain; had he not guessed wrong, the haste
would have been unnecessary. The heavy grating could
not be raised more than a couple of cubits; still, that was
enough. The mariners poured through the opening, fol-
lowed by the four fugitives.

One of the men carrying Ursid was struck by an arrow
and fell; the other two dropped their burden and fled
onward, racing for the trail which led back to the stranded
Proteus. Quickly, Palamon took up the fallen youth, hand-
ing his sword once more to protesting Aelia. The Spada
Korrigaine had done its work for now.

Palamon could not move quickly, for he was lamed by
the arrow that had pierced his leg. And the trail the mar-
iners were racing down would lead only to destruction in
any event. Already, a lightning bolt struck in that direc-
tion, hitting between two men and sending them hurtling
through the air-

"One moment," Aelia said, panting as she paused in
her flight. With a swift motion, she set down Palamon's
sword and jerked up the hem of her gown, exposing the
whiteness of her thighs and the horrid carbuncle which
Berengeria had noted earlier. In astonishment, Palamon
stared at her as she peeled the awful thing from her leg,
taking it into her hands and squeezing from it a few drops
of clear, golden liquid. The product of the sore spread,
floated, glimmered, formed a wall between the fleeing
foursome and the archers behind them-

Arrows clattered off this gleaming shield. Even as they
bounced away, Palamon noted that some fell to the ground
while most of them simply vanished as they struck. Would
that he had guessed the truth earlier.

In an instant, the shield expanded and curved until it
took the shape of a great clamshell. Abruptly, the four

256 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

fugitives were scooped up; the shell closed about them
and floated away, skimming over the ground in a breath-
taking race with the magic winds of Alyubol.

In the few heartbeats it had taken for this to happen,
Alyubol's lightning had played over the beach where the
Proteus lay, as well as the trail down from the saline
castle- Then the wizard became aware that his real prey
was escaping; the lighting bolts flashed toward the moving
shell, one of them blasting a crater in the black stone over
which it had hovered an instant ago.

The conveyance floated away from the Proteus and
her beleaguered crew, traveling toward the sea on the
other side of the Dark Capes. The flight dizzied the occu-
pants; even so, the mad wizard's lightning bolts were
striking close by. The shell cleared the last stones and
dipped toward the heaving waves at the very instant a
bolt blasted the top of it; the blinding explosion jarred
and dazzled those within. But the shell held. It slid beneath
the water's surface, while above it the sea was whipped
into a froth by Alyubol's wrath.

But the four fugitives were safe, at least for the moment.
The lightning could not penetrate beneath the surface of
the sea. They were floating just above the bottom, now,
marveling at the fury being released in the waters over
their heads.

It was not dark within the shell; rather, their refuge
was filled by a soft, golden glow. Aided by this light, Aelia
rose to examine the damage done by the lightning bolt
which had hit them. It was difficult to tell whether the
blow had been serious or not. The damaged area was
scorched across the breadth of a large shield; it was a
dark, burnt yellow. But the shell was not leaking.

When Aelia sat down again, Berengeria flung her arms
about the older woman, tearfully kissing her upon one
perspiring cheek- "How do you do these things, my Aelia?
Tell. For how long have you borne that awful sore upon
your lovely thigh? What did it hold?"

"Can you not guess? I emptied out the vial, the crystal
vial, before we all came to the castle of foul Alyubol. The
second charge I used to form a case in which to guard

DENNIS McCARTY

257

the last, well out of view and well beyond detection. And
Reovalis' great an must have intelligence itself; the sec-
ond charge produced that pustule clinging to my flesh."

"And so we fare," Berengeria said. "Lest Alyubol's
long reach can penetrate the waters of the sea, we have,
perchance, outdistanced him at last."

But Aelia was watching Palamon, who had ripped a
strip of cloth from his torn tunic and was binding his calf.
He winced as he applied the dressing to the bloody injury.
Then he knelt beside Ursid, whose shallow breathing barely
lifted his blood-caked chest.

Berengeria also observed the tall knight's actions. "How
goes it, Palamon?" she asked. "How fares Ursid?"

"My leg is stiff, although the wound is clean. I fare as
well as one may dare expect with any wound. As for our
young Ursid, he goes down fast. He dies within the hour."
The face of the Knight of Pallas was grave as he spoke.

"It's curious, this mystic art which struck him down-
Believing false illusion's swords were real gave them the
full effect of earthly steel." Berengeria's eyes passed across
Ursid's form as she spoke.

"No more was needed. Magic is strange stuff." Pala-
mon gazed into her face. "Of course you know he loved
you. All he did was from infatuation for your sake."

"I know. And now he dies. And Phatyr's crew—their
transport of my person cost them dear." Berengeria's
mouth formed a tight line. She turned her head away from
the tall knight and gazed through the translucent shell
about them, studying the shadowy depths through which
they were passing.

But Aelia was studying Palamon; her eyes were prob-
ing his features- "His wounds are deep. And yet, 0 Pallas*
Knight, the dearest, most divine ability of all your order's
this: with touch of hands, a Knight of Pallas may seal up
great hurts. Cannot you do this thing for poor Ursid?"

Palamon looked up at her. The old expression was upon
his face again, that mask of a smile he always donned to
conceal the inner workings of his mind. "A Knight of
Pallas well might do such things," he said. "Yet Knight

258 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

of Pallas is a sobriquet you chose for me; it's not my own

device."

"Your past is fully known by all of us. It's quite well
demonstrated by your deeds that all your skills are warded
in you still."

"The laying on of hands is not a skill. It is a gift the
gracious Pallas gives to men who keep her code and honor
her. Our chastity—avoidance of foul lust, including the
mere mention of such acts—is chief among the ways that
we may honor her. It is the price we pay that we might
have the power to restore the body's hurts." He looked
down at the young warrior lying before him. There was
a curl on Palamon's lip. His shield was beginning to crack.
"Now fate has made Ursid the poor cosigner for my past.
My nonchalance, which led to my disgrace and quick
expulsion from the Knights, wrote debts for which he
now must be foreclosed."

Berengeria had again turned her head and was watch-
ing the exchange. The look in Aelia's eyes was intense,
piercing. "But tell me," the older woman said, "when we
fled the castle made of salt, you specified that we should
carry him with us. What for? You then knew everything
that you know now—that he would have no chance in
any case."

"It was the proper thing. We could not leave him there
to face the mercies of those fiends."

"Indeed. And you must try to heal him now. Though
you may fail, you must make that attempt. In your own
words, it is the proper thing."

Berengeria was beginning to understand. Palamon had
to try. If he failed, he would at least have made the attempt;

besides, Ursid could only be better off for it. So she entered
the debate. "Sir Palamon, if what you say is true, it is the
only chance Ursid still has."

"It is no chance at all; it's less than none." Palamon's
face was showing more pain now than he had ever
expressed when the arrow had pierced his leg. "It's blas-
phemy so to mock Pallas' name, for one who has dis-
graced her order's ranks to try to use the powers forfeited."
He looked at them both, one after the other. "Believe my

DENNIS MCCARTY

259

words—if there was but one chance in any number that
I might succeed, then I would joyfully make the attempt."

But Aelia was relentless. "Yet you must try. Though
there may be no chance, you still must try. Why bring the
lad this far to let him die without the least attempt to save
his life?"

Palamon did not reply. He gazed down at the pale face
of Ursid, who already lay as still as death. It was only
by placing a finger on the throat to feel the pulse or by
holding a sweat-soaked palm at the nostrils to sense a
feeble breath, that the last flickers of life could be per-
ceived at all.

Aelia went on. "To let him die this way's the blas-
phemy. You will regret it in your ag^d days."

Palamon stared at the fallen warrior. There was little
time to spare. The blood Ursid had lost was taking its
toll; Palamon had to act now or not act at all. The only
sound within the crystal shell was breathing—Palamon's
breathing, Aelia's breathing, Berengeria's breathing. Sec-
onds passed, marked by nothing more.

With a deep sigh, Palamon at last clasped his hands
above Ursid. He was in thought for a moment, then he
began. "0 mighty Pallas, I have not the right to ask this
blessing; still I must implore. Please hear me out while I
say this much more: I beg consideration for this knight,
so mangled in an honorable fight. He soon shall disembark
from his life's shore without thy aid. His wounds are
grevious sore. I now pray in his name and not from spite."
Fascinated, Aelia and Berengeria watched while Palamon
prayed. They both noted his fingers; he had clenched them
so tightly that his knuckles had become as white as ivory.
"I humbly beg thee, grant Ursid this boon: close up his
many cuts from swordblades thin. Heal up his flesh, bind
up his bloody wounds, bless with your breath the breath
that he draws in. Give back his life or else it passes soon.
Let him not die in payment of my sin."

The sweat was beaded across Palamon's forehead as
he prayed; it stood out in great drops that were trickling
from his face, making dark splotches upon his tunic. His
hair grew dark with moisture as if he had just been bap-

260 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

tized- The prayer was finished; he leaned forward and
placed his broad hands upon Ursid's chest, then upon the
young knight's forehead, then back upon his chest.

There was no doubting the sincerity of Palamon's
efforts; his eyes were clenched shut and he was trembling
with the strain of what he was doing. It was as if he were
trying to will the life energy from his own body into the
prostrate form of the young warrior. He maintained this
attitude for a long time; the chamber was filled with the
tension of it. Then he was exhausted. He fell away from
Ursid's body, gasping, his chest heaving, his breath com-
ing in great, rasping draughts.

The two women looked down at Ursid. There was no
change. He was as pale and motionless as before, his
breath was scarcely to be noticed, and the end of his life
could be only moments away. But there had been a change
in the atmosphere of the shell itself; the air was warmer
than it had been and there was the least hint of fragrance,
a faint perfume that teased their nostrils.

And then there came a change in the young knight's
appearance as well. It was hardly to be noticed at first.
But it was there. The features were still waxy but a glow
seemed to be working its way from within, a life that had
not been there before. Ursid's chest moved slightly; he
stirred, shifted, rolled onto his side. That was all- There
was no more change in his condition than that. He adjusted
himself a bit, then a soft snore escaped his lips. He was
sleeping now; the struggle for life was no longer straining
his features.

Aghast, Berengeria glanced at both her companions,
then back at Ursid. "He lives, he lives! His life has been
restored." Aelia also stared at the young warrior, open-
mouthed in astonishment.

As for Palamon, the performer of this miracle appeared
to be more astonished than either Aelia or Berengeria.
He stared glassily at sleeping Ursid as if the young knight
had turned into a chimera, a phoenix, or some other prod-
igy. Berengeria watched the tall knight as he reacted.
Surely, he was about to break into a joyful smile- But this
did not happen.

DENNIS McCARTY               261

Instead, the tall knight sagged, sliding down into a
heap. His face dissolved into a mass of lines, and then
the tears came- He wept. He wept like a maiden. Other
than by turning his face away from them, he made no
attempt to hide the overflow of his feelings. It was as if
he had neither the strength nor the will left to regain his
self-control. His shoulders quaked and the closeness of
the shell was filled with the sound of his sobbing. The
salty tears flooded down his cheeks, mingling with his
sweat, dripping off his chin- For a long while he remained
that way, giving vent to overwhelming emotion. When he
was spent from the release, he lay at the feet of the youth
he had saved, panting, his eyes shut.

Berengeria was taken aback, almost frightened. This
was not the reaction she would have expected from this
laconic knight, even had he failed. She looked at Aelia,
who was studying Palamon the way an alchemist would
have gazed at a beaker. "My Lady," Berengeria said. "This
reaction does not seem to fit the man who is my Palamon.
I must surmise it is his great relief to find his goddess still
must hold him dear."

Aelia shook her head. "It's more than that. I under-
stand his creed, the canons of great Pallas' Knights. A
man once stained with sin can never hope to wield the
healing power of her hand. I urged him to the task for his
own sake, that he would be divided from his past. That
past is not the thing it seems to be."

As she spoke Aelia continued to watch Palamon, her
mind turning. He was a book which, though intriguing in
its parts, had remained largely closed, even to her obser-
vation. But he had revealed himself a bit in these last
moments. "I now begin to know his mind."

Berengeria looked at her. "What have you found?"

Aelia's eyes did not move from Palamon's face as she
spoke. "As I have said, the Knight of Pallas who neglects
to keep his order's dearest law—that maiden's bed is
sacred and forbid—has not a fallen nestling's gleam of
hope of ever wielding power by her hand. The very men-
tion of that moral breach will place his grace in mortal

262 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

jeopardy." She was choosing her words carefully now.
"But Palamon, we've seen, retains that grace,"

Her eyes became more gentle as she spoke to Palamon,
smiling with admiration into the tall knight's sagging face.
"So tell us, Palamon, how did you come to keep the pow-
ers of your deity? I think that I have guessed but say it
out. What secret have you left untold to us? Fear not to
tell us, for we are your friends."

Palamon did not reply for a long time. Berengeria began
wondering whether he was asleep, dreaming, because he
lay so quietly against the side of the crystal shell. But at
last he did react; his eyes opened and his lips moved as
if he would have brought words from a great depth. But
he remained silent. Perhaps he was not going to say any-
thing after all.

Aelia prodded him once more. "Arlaine, was that her
name?"

His face became a mask of painful memory. "Indeed
it was. A count that dwelt some leagues off to the east of
far Or-on had caused much wrath among his serfs because
the tithes he set were somewhat strict. Revolt was in the
air. There I was sent to mediate the strife before great
bloodshed spread across that land. The task was difficult,
but ft was done by wit, by force, and by the Knights*
prestige.

"And when I then set out for my own home, gray
Pallas' Fastness on its windswept cliff, I chanced to
tarry at a hostelry in Fabas village, not far to the east.
'Twas there at next day's sunrise that I met the maid
Arlaine.

"As I was riding from the village inn, I saw her come
a-running to my horse to grasp my stirrup as I hauled the
reins. 'What can it be, fair maiden,' I then asked, 'that
makes your face so pale and full of woe?'

*"0, Knight,' she said, 'I am a lowly maid but still I
must cry out to you for aid. If Knights of Pallas do not
limit deeds to service of the landed, my own need cries
out as loudly for your strong support as any plight of
wealthy nobleman. You are my only source of hope; there
are no others I can turn to.'

DENNIS McCARTY

263

"'Then climb up behind me,* I replied, 'and you may
tell your story as I take you home.'

"'Nay, nay,' she cried. 'I cannot tell my tale at home.
But on the road out of this town, there is a vale where
we may go to talk.*

"And so she rode behind me on my steed until we
reached the place that she described. There, while I lis-
tened, she described to me a life so full of anguish and
mischance it made me hide my face to hear her speak."

Palamon paused for a moment. He was like a balladeer
who had overrun his train of thought and needed to collect
himself once more before he could finish his tale. Finally,
he resumed the story. "Her father was the drunkard of
the town and had no sense of right or decency. Long years
ago, her mother turned and fled away and left this maid
to suffer what might fall to her from chance's hands and
his hands, too. Enraged this drunkard was when in his
cups; full lusty, like an animal. He forced this child to
yield her body up to him and lovers were they, though
there was no love. In such a way, the short years of her
life had been turned into death within a life. He seldom
let her stray from house's door and though she was a fair
young maid, withal, no suitors came for fear of their young
lives.

"And now into her life, unhappy though it was, came
something that must surely dash whatever muffled hope
she might have cherished still. She was with child. Her
tears came when she spoke to me of this most frightful,
sordid tale.

"So there it was, and nothing I could do. This was no
foe that I could meet with arms. To see her face, I knew
her tale was true and yet no quick solution could I give.
She might be rescued from her father. Still, her child,
once it was bom, would have been slain, and she herself
faced lifelong banishment. For such is e'er the fate of
those whom incest marks in tiny villages across our worid."

Palamon shook his head. "By all my vows, this was
the very sort of awful plight that I had been reared up to
reconcile. What could I do? I could not take her to my
order's home; no women ever pass those hallowed gates.

264      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

I could not leave her with her name befouled by deeds
that had been done against her will, at cost of many tears.

"There was no answer that I could divine but one.
'Young maid,' I said, 'we'll take to horse again. A league
or so from here, I've often passed a chapel made of stone,
set in the trees. It is a temple dedicated to Actea, the
hunter goddess who oft is called upon by women-folk
when they are caught in childbirth's painful throes. There
I shall leave you. Go in through the gate and tell those
whom you meet you are with child. But do not blame
your father. Mention me. And give them my description;

when it comes upon me, I will not deny the charge."

Berengeria's mouth fell open and she gasped to hear
the revelation. But Aelia only nodded. "But did you know
the hard result that had to fall upon you once this all was
done?"

Palamon nodded, a grim smile crawling across his lips.
"Indeed, I knew it when she came to me. I knew full well
the risks. But still, I could not turn away from her. She
did deserve to have her baby saved. To me it would be
scandalous and foul but still, within her village, it would
make her shine. To bear a bastard child of any Knight
would give her status. She would be sought out by any
tradesman's family of the town. The two conditions made
were that she stay within that temple till the child was
born and that she never more would even look upon her
father and his wicked ways."

"And did that come to pass?"

"Her luck from there ran well. The child was born, a
healthy baby boy, unmarked by his sore lineage. She went
into a nearby village, where she met a lad she came to
marry. So it ends."

"But not for you." Fascination was etched into Aelia's
face.

Palamon shrugged. Perhaps it had been an unwise deed,
this bit of charity performed upon the spur of the moment,
years ago, for a maiden he had not even known. It had
cost him dearly. The scars of it were scribbled across his
actions toward his companions over many weeks. Still,
what he had done was what he had done-

DENNIS McCARTY

265

But his deity had not deserted him. Through all the
shame and bitterness of all the years, the wandering and
the lapses in observing the rites of his order, at least that
last great humiliation had not come, even though he had
never known that until now. And so he sat slumped against
the side of the crystal shell, great tides of emotion washing
across his face, rudely concealed. And the two women
looked upon him silently. There was little for either of
them to say.

Chapter Twenty-five:

A Kiss Beneath the Sea

TIME HAD PASSED. Silence reigned within the trans-
parent shell as it had for several hours. Ursid, Aelia, and
Berengeria were all sleeping; Palamon was sitting on the
transport's rounded bottom, alone with his thoughts.
Occasionally he looked out at the dark waters of the
Thiassa Mey. Every so often, shoals offish would swim
up for a peek at this unusual invader of their realm, falling
behind after a moment. Once or twice, he had spotted
larger denizens of this dark world.

There was no knowing the course their transport was
following, nor the speed at which it traveled- When they
had escaped Alyubol's castle, the shell had been traveling
west; if it still did so and if it was making any speed at
all, they should soon reach Carean waters. But there was
no knowing for sure. The crystal shell was a dazzling
manifestation of the powers of Reovalis; even Alyubol
himself would have been forced to admit that. It had saved
them from the mad wizard's clutches and was transporting
them unseen and unopposed through the waters of the

266

DENNIS MCCARTY           267

Thiassa Mey—but no provision had been made for the
material needs of its human cargo. As he sat, Palamon
had to fight to quell the hunger and thirst that were surging
up within him.

He gazed at Aelia and Berengeria. Surely these ravages
were affecting them as much as they were him; for this
reason he was glad the two women were asleep. He wished
he could share that condition. But his thoughts turned and
turned again, swirling through his mind like fish swimming
in a tank.

His patron, the Maiden Pallas, had not forsaken him;

that much was certain- That knowledge removed a crush-
ing weight from his shoulders; the future was now some-
thing he could approach squarely for the first time in
years. But what was that future to bring? How was he to
approach it? Should their flight end in success, his ser-
vices to Berengeria would insure his future materially.
There was no doubt he would be provided for. But the
great question remained unanswered—what was he to do
with himself?

For all his longing, he could not ever return to the
Fastness of Pallas. The expulsion of a member was a
trauma rarely undergone by that order and it was never
revoked. He could doubtless obtain a commission in the
legions ofCarea. Still, he was not interested in a military
life; he had had enough fighting.

Then there was Berengeria; what was he to do about
her? He had grown to love her. He longed for her, body
and soul, spirit and mind, even as they were traveling in
this crystal shell beneath the sea. That was strange in
itself. His self control, drilled into him from his earliest
moment as a child within the Fastness of Pallas, was of
no use to him in this regard. The lustrous maiden had
captured him. But that was wrong. Whenever he was near
her, whenever he wanted most to touch her, he could
sense that old, unseen barrier the fates had placed between
them. Even now, as he looked down at her sleeping, there
seemed to be an endless, bottomless gulf dividing them.

It would be hard to give her up, but that was the sac-
rifice he was ultimately going to have to make. The very

268 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

love they bore one another made him responsible for her
future. She would have to marry and she would have to
produce heirs to Carea's throne. Some noble youth, some-
one deemed worthy by her father, would receive her hand.

Palamon's thoughts were interrupted. Berengeria stirred
and awakened, her blue eyes fluttering open and darting
about the little chamber to settle upon him. She smiled
at him, sleep still softening her features. "I see you are
awake. Have I slept long?"

He smiled back. He was very fond of her. "One cannot
tell, for here there is no time."

She looked through the crystal walls of their magical
craft, her hair falling across one shoulder as she turned
her head to study the watery world through which they
were passing. "It's like a dream, this passage undersea;

die rate at which we move, the places reached, are all
unknown to us." She looked up at him again. "From all
the pangs of hunger that devour my poor insides, my guess
is that a two weeks' span, at least, has passed since last
we dined. Do you agree?"

Palamon shrugged. "As you have said yourself, it's
hard to tell. Methinks a day or more now separates us
from the seaswept rocks ofAlyubol, the Dark Capes, and
his keep of hard salt blocks."

"A day or two? No more? It seems like more." She
tilted her head as she studied Palamon. "But tell me,
gentle Knight, I long to know: what thoughts stirred in
your mind as I awoke?"

Palamon looked almost as if he were about to laugh.
"I think of you. These times, whenever I may pause, I
find my thoughts run down to you like rivers flowing to
the salty sea- It is a pleasant subject, by my troth."

Berengeria seemed pleased by this speech, "And just
of me? Have you no other thoughts to pass the time?"

"Just one or two, perhaps." That was all Palamon had
to say upon that subject. Still, it was several words more
than he would have uttered a few months earlier; Ber-
engeria was surprised to hear him speak this openly about
his feelings, and in such an easy tone.

DENNIS MCCARTY

269

"Can you guess what's the subject on my mind?" she
asked.

He shook his head.

"I dream of food. Of fish or fowl or good roast beef.
I have not eaten, lo, these many hours; I could devour
the mighty earth itself."

Palamon's look hardened a bit. He shook his head again.
"Beware, fair maiden, guard your thoughts. You must not
think of sustenance nor drink until they are at hand. You
suffer more when you allow your mind to wield the whip."

The words were sterner in tone than Palamon had meant
them to be. Berengeria looked at him, her mouth wrin-
kling. "Of what else can I think?"

He shrugged. "Of anything."

"You say you think on me to pass the time?"

He smiled.

Berengeria did not smile. "Then should I think upon
the man who could possess a high Princess' hand, but
who refuses it although he must admit she fills his heart?"

There was a long pause. Palamon's smile went away;

he gazed down at the sleeping forms of Ursid and Aelia,
then back at Berengeria. "Indeed, indeed, the words you
speak are true; we both repose in one another's hearts.
And would that I could take another course. But union
for us two can never be, for reasons we both know. My
vows still hold. My past keeps us apart and over all, the
specter hangs of my ignoble birth." He did not mention
his less rational fears.

"Such reasons are just wind that fouls the mind. If you
are not a nobleman by birth, your soul's been much enno-
bled by your life. If your great sword can recognize that
fact, then Berevald, my father, also shall. Were we to
strive together, we would leap such barricades like vault-
ing unicorns." She sighed. "For all of that, I must regret
my words. I swore unto myself some time ago that I would
never broach the subject more. It's not intentional, this
act, these words of mine." She gazed at Palamon, her
eyes open and earnest, her mouth drawn into a line. "If
there were any way to cause your heart to change, I fain
would have it so. Still, I have spoken twice and taken

270 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

courtship in my hands, a thing that I was never taught to
do. I'll speak no more of this; 'tis yours to lead."

She curled forward, drew up her legs, wrapped her
hands about her knees, and rested her head on her fingers.
What she had said was true; she had thrown herself before
Palamon and he had not taken her up. It was a great insult.
Had she not loved him at all, still it would have been an
insult to the pride of any Princess to have been spumed
by a man in whom she might have shown an interest.
How much more so when she had bared her soul to him
and they both realized their feelings were mutual?

So his mind began laboring all over again. Perhaps she
was right; perhaps there was no obstacle in the way of
their love that might not be overcome. Certainly she had
the will to conquer much. He gazed at her a long time.
She was an image of youthful loveliness as she sat before
him, an image carved in flesh. Should he at least attempt
to possess her—and to be possessed by her—when he
had already suffered the consequences of such an act
without ever having committed it? And even if the attempt
could lead to some unforseen catastrophe, was their great
love not worth that chance?

But what of his patron, the holy Maiden, Pallas? She
had never forsaken him, even through the nadir of his
degradation. When he had called her name for Ursid's
sake, her aid had been freely given. Would it be blasphemy
for him to join in union with this Berengeria now? He
gazed at the rounded symmetry of that young lady's form
and features. What was he to do?

He slid across the floor of the crystal shell until he was
sitting beside her; she looked up as his arm circled her
shoulder. But something more happened; the forces mov-
ing him to touch her were more powerful than he could
have imagined. His longing for her would not be denied.
Their lips met. They locked together, their arms twined
about one another in a clinging embrace.

The kiss lasted a long time; when it was over, Palamon
was without breath—but the kiss made him speak any-
way. "If there is any way that I may press a suit to gain

DENNIS MCCARTY

271

your hand, it shall be done. For I do love you, Beren-
geria."

There was no response, at least not a verbal one. Ber-
engeria touched a finger to his lips to silence him. Then
they kissed once more, the way lovers kiss when they
are far from the nearest eyes. They kissed, although noth-
ing but sleep separated them from their two companions
in this tiny craft that was taking them through the waters,
toward some unknown shore of the Thiassa Mey-

Still, no kiss could last forever. At last their arms slipped
apart and they sat with Berengeria's head resting upon
Palamon's shoulder. His world had shifted again upon its
axis; they now belonged to one another. Still, he needed
to pray to his patron, for her disapproval would stop this
love. But now that he had made his decision, he was ready
to contest with any forces men might array against him.

They sat together for a long time, each lost in private
thoughts. Then Aelia awoke. Her eyebrows arched a bit
as she looked at them but there was no greater reaction.
To Berengeria's statement that she and Palamon would
marry after all, Aelia only said, "If that is what my Mis-
tress wishes most, then may it come to pass with bless-
ings." She glanced at Palamon, then looked about the
crystal shell.

Then she gasped. Her companions followed her gaze
to see what she could see. The top of Reovalis' magical
shell was still discolored where it had been struck by the
lightning bolt sent by Alyubol. Thus far, this had mattered
little. But now they could see that the discolored area was
cracking. The wizard's searing bolts had done their work
at last; the soft glow within the chamber showed a gos-
samer network ofhairiine fractures spreading through the
yellowed crystal. There was no way of knowing how long
the weakened spot would hold out the sea.

Releasing Berengeria's shoulder, Palamon stood to
examine the damage. As he peered at the cracks more
closely, he could see there were even more than he had
at first noticed. Even as he watched, a new one traced
its way only a finger's length from his nose.

He looked out at the fathoms of sea water pressing

272 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

down upon the shell; the surface of the sea was only a
glimmer where the sun danced off the waves far above.
He glanced once more at Berengeria and Aelia, who had
both become pale. They all knew their craft would not
protect them for long.

Aelia spoke, "I cannot help but wonder whether this
most noble illustration of the arts of wise Reovalis will
now respond to our predicament. If it does not, if its one
aim is to attain the shore, four cold, drowned bodies may
be all that land."

"But still, as both you guardians have taught, there
never should be total loss of hope." Berengeria looked
up at Palamon. "We are not trapped. My love, your noble
sword can hew us from this shell before we drown."

Palamon was doubtful. "Perhaps. But still, it's not yet
time for that. That act will be reserved, a last resort, for
tfus hard crystal may be proof against an ancient sword
as well as lightning bolts."

"Indeed," Aelia said. "And magic blades on magic
shields make conflict leagues beyond all earthly blows.
The forces thus released could do far more than carve a
hole. They might well strike us down and bring our deaths
more quickly than these seas."

And so they waited, reserving the powers ofPalamon's
blade until the last desperate moment. There was no doubt
that the wait would be a short one; the cracking proceeded
apace. Still, the shell did not alter its course by a degree
or a fathom; it proceeded as it had done. Gone now were
the pangs of hunger and the ravages of thirst that had
plagued its occupants; their thirst could soon be slaked
forever.

Palamon, Berengeria, and Aelia knelt once more. All
six eyes were fixed upon the yellowed area, an area the
size of a man's back, which was now crisscrossed by a
lacy maze of tiny fractures. For what seemed like hours
they waited, silently watching. Then the first failure came.
A piece the size of a man's thumb fell with a ringing sound,
like a goblet struck by a spoon. And the waters followed
after.

The stream squirted in, striking Ursid upon the chest.

DENNIS McCARTY              273

He was disoriented at finding himself so doused and started
upward. Palamon took him quickly about the shoulders
and raised him to a sitting position as he stared about
wildly. "By all the gods," the young knight said. "What
manner place is this?"

"A place in which we all may well be bathed in such
a way that we'll ne'er bathe again." Even as Palamon
spoke, another section of crystal fell away, allowing the
stream gushing in to become the size of a man*s wrist. At
such a rate, water would soon overcome them.

But the crystal shell was responding. As soon as the
collapse had begun, all forward motion had ceased, forc-
ing the passengers to brace themselves to keep from being
thrown down. Palamon had been jostled while supporting
Ursid, in fact- But in spite of nearly being upset, he was
relieved when he looked up to see the shimmering patterns
of the sea's surface becoming brighter. Reovalis had fore-
seen all possibilities. The crystal shell's magical proper-
ties had deserted it and it was bobbing, corklike. to the
surface. Still, it would have to bob to the surface quickly;

even as Palamon looked up, another piece raided down
and the flood increased. The water was up to their knees
and they were forced to stand; Palamon helped hold Ursid
as they rose.

More pieces fell away and the flood became a torrent.
But the wave dimpled surface was very near; Palamon
could see the pattern of each wave as it passed above
him. Then their disabled craft broke the surface with an
awkward rocking motion and the hole which had before
let in lethal waters, now served as gateway to the sweet-
ness of cool morning air. They were safe for the moment,
even though the crystal shell lay low in the waves and
the water inside it lapped at their waists.

Palamon attempted to lift himself up, to raise himself
with his hands so he could poke his head through the
hole; perhaps he would be able to make out their position.
But as he tried, the craft rocked crazily, then rolled over,
tumbling its occupants into the frothing brine that swirled
about them. Palamon's eyes smarted from the salt water

274      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

and he could see his companions cough and gag as they

righted themselves.

"We all must be the most sublime of sights," he said.
"I erred. I never should have changed our balance point
and rolled us over like a small child's toy."

Since the hole was at the bottom now, more water
could not force its way in. The level stabilized. But a new
problem arose—the air inside the shell quickly became
extremely close. It seemed that the mystical quality which
had allowed them to breath before had vanished along
with all the shell's other supernatural properties. So it had
to be turned over again, to allow air to enter once more.

The complications of navigating such a craft were many-
They righted themselves, then time was spent bailing water,
keeping the crippled shell in proper trim, coping with
wounded Ursid, and combating gnawing hunger. And they
waited and hoped. Waiting and hoping were the hardest
tasks, because the travelers had no idea how long it would
take the random breezes to blow them to some shore.
They did not even know where they were. But by learning
to position the hole in the side of their craft, they could
at least keep a watch on the surrounding seas. When no
ships appeared through the afternoon, it became ever more
difficult to keep hope alive.

Chapter Twenty-six:

The Carean Flag

TOWARD EVENING, BERENGERIA saw something. For
some time she had been peering out the opening in the
side of their strange vessel, searching the horizon as best
she could. Now excitement lit her eyes. "A ship. I see a
ship. It's now quite close."

Palamon and Aelia looked at her eagerly. "What coun-
try's ship?" Aelia asked. "What flag flies from its head?"

Berengeria peered out intently but shook her head in
frustration. "I cannot tell what flag. The bright sun sets
into the seas behind her, blinding me."

Because the material of the shell distorted all images
from the outside, Palamon hungered to look through the
hole himself. But he refrained. The balance of the shell
was delicate; he knew that any sudden shift could roll
them all off their feet. So he contented himself with cau-
tious glances over Berengeria's shoulder. These revealed
nothing but glimpses of sea and sky. Then he did see it;

it was very close indeed. It was a war galley and it was
approaching them majestically; the water was frothing

275

276

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

from the long ram and the three banks of oars rose and      •
fell with a steady rhythm.

Even as Palamon glimpsed this magnificent sight, Ber-       ;

engeria released what could only be described as a scream
of delight. "A friendly flag. It is Carea's flag. I see the
colors hanging from the mast." Wheeling, she clutched
at Palamon's tunic, her face glazed with joy. "Our jour-
neys now will reach their proper end. Our long travails
are past."                                                i

The crystal shell rolled crazily with the sudden motion
of the bodies within, and its occupants lost sight of the        ^
great galley while all four of them struggled to regain their        1
balance. Still, such a sight was worth the frantic tumbling       I
about. All they had hoped for had come to pass. Their        J,i
struggle was over.                                            :.

When they regained sight of the ship, it towered over       ^
them. Its long rail was crowded with red-caped Carean       %
archers and smoke was rising from onager stations at       i^
either end of the main deck. Clearly, the Careans viewed       ' ,|
the crystal shell with suspicion. A knot of men could be       |
seen at the ship's waist, the dying sun glinting off the       |
officers' insignia on their breasts. Even as the four trav-       II
elers watched, one of the officers challenged them. "I see      \-1
your face. Identify yourselves and what your purpose is;       |
lest you comply, we shall not hesitate to call you foes."        ^

Palamon shouted out an answer. "We bear the good       H
Princess unto her father and her rightful home."             ,|

His words had the expected result. There was a great      11
commotion aboard the galley and the officers debated      if
furiously. Then they hailed the shell again. "Brave words.       j|
But any thief could say as much."

"We bear the proof," AeUa said, "if you will let us
show you. Hurry; neither food nor slaking draughts have
passed our lips for long, uncounted days."

"And we've a wounded man aboard." This came from
Palamon's lips.

A cargo net was thrown over the rail, secured, and
several stout sailors climbed down it. The shouting of
men at a windlass could be heard as the vessel's great
wooden boom was unshipped and swung over the side.

DENNIS MCCAATY

277

An officer hailed them once more. "Now do not move;

we're bringing you aboard. Our archers' strings are taut;

one moment's lapse and arrow shafts will fill your gleam-
ing craft."

The warning was heeded. As a second net was lowered
and secured about the crystal shell, its occupants remained
as still as possible. Even so, the ecstatic gleam on Ber-
engeria's face was a celebration in itself. Her teeth shone
in a desperate, almost hysterical, smile; tears glistened
upon her cheeks; her eyes also glistened as she looked
from Palamon to Aelia and then back again. The fittings
on the boom groaned and the crystal chamber swung free
of the sea's grip. Joy had seized the faces of all the trav-
elers except Ursid; he had lapsed back into unconsious-
ness and Palamon had to hold him to keep his head out
of the water swirling at their feet.

They had to steady themselves for the space of half a
moment as they swung through the air. Then there was
ajolt; they had reached the galley's deck. The officer who
had been hailing them, a young man with dark hair, peered
in at them. "Pass out your wounded man; we'll take him
first."

"He lies as still as death," Berengeria said. "Still, out
he comes."

The three of them took hold of Ursid and gently passed
his head and shoulders through the opening; this was dif-
ficult because of the way the crystal shell lay upon the
deck. He was received by a cluster of hands.

"Now crawl out singly. What I said before still holds.
Do not attempt the least false move."

Aelia was helped out first, followed by Berengeria and
then Palamon. They climbed down to the deck and found
themselves standing before a half dozen stem-faced offi-
cers, The sight of the two women had tempered the sus-
picion in those hard eyes, however, and had replaced it
with a look of expectation. One of the men approached
Berengeria. "Are you the lost Princess who left our shores
so many years ago?"

Aelia stepped between them. "She is. And I am Aelia,
priestess to the court, her guardian for many years. I was

278 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

appointed to this weighty post by good King Berevald
himself. I still display the seal he gave me then." She
showed them her ring of office as well as the tiny silver
replica of a slave's collar she had always worn on a chain
about her neck. These were both symbols of office worn
by all Careans who directly served the King and they
could not be disputed; the officers exchanged glances and
then bowed low before the two women.

The effect was dramatic. Like an explosion, word
flashed through the ship that Berengeria was on board
and the archers lining the deck broke into loud huzzahs,
as did the seamen, both above and below decks. Even
the rowers deep within the bowels of the vessel could be
heard, for their release was now likely—a gesture of thanks
to the exalted gods for such a lucky event.

The galley's stout commander presented himself for-
mally and told them Ursid was being taken below to the
ship's surgeon. Then he invited them to partake of the
food and drink which they had craved for so long.

"But what of our position on this sea?" Aelia asked as
they walked aft. "What brought this vessel to our rescue?**

The Commander looked at her, then a smile crossed
his ruddy, wrinkled face. "Such an object as that craft of
yours could hardly be ignored by all the lookouts kept
throughout our fleet. It gleamed with all the sun's bright,
shining light, much as a beacon fire seen late at night.'*

Indeed, such a statement should not have surprised die
travelers; after all, the galley had approached from the
setting sun. Their crystal craft would have flashed with
die brilliance of those waning rays. It could never have
been ignored. But what of Carea's fleet? This was only a
single vessel. They looked over the ship's rail and saw
what the Commander had spoken of, for the galley's deck
rode higher than a crystal shell. The horizon was lined
with the black dots of warships, silhouetted against the
glow of the departed sun.

"What brings Carea's mighty fleet to sail?" Berengeria
asked.

"The navy of Buerdaunt blockades the Isle of Kolpos.
Many weeks have passed and still no word has reached

DENNIS McCARTY

279

the King to indicate his daughter lives. For these two
reasons, nearing black despair for what he saw as proof
that she was lost, he ordered out our fleet to meet their
own."

Aelia nodded and smiled. "Then you may set your
course for Carea and dock a hero, for we are the cause
why Lothar's ships have bottled up that isle."

Now it was the Commander who smiled. "And so we
shall. It is no common thing—a battle won without a
single blow."

They prepared to dine upon the finest fare the galley's
stores could offer while a beat was struck and the rowers
brought her back into line with her sister ships. First,
however, they partook of the lime-flavored contents of
the ship's water cask; thirst was the greater of the two
demons that had plagued them through the last few days.

Later, after he had eaten and quaffed his fill, Palamon
returned to the deck to oversee the removal of the items
left inside the crystal shell. First among those was the
Spada Korrigaine, which brought many a nod and low
whistle from watching hands as it was removed and taken
below to the quarters commandeered for the tall knight.

Then Palamon journeyed belowdecks to the ship's sur-
geon to inquire after Ursid's health. He found the young
knight lashed into a hammock in the narrow compartment,
weak but comfortable. Medication had been applied and
the worst wounds had been sewn shut; the young man
was still pale as paper but the danger was past. And his
delirium, which had plagued him earlier in the day, was
past as well. He greeted Palamon, weakly lifting one hand
as the tall knight entered the chamber. "I knew that you
would come, 0 Palamon. My mind is full of buzzing and
the lights are dancing in my skull from lack of blood. But
still I knew that you would come to see me here."

Palamon smiled down at him and placed a hand upon
Ursid's shoulder. "How fare you, lad?"

"They say my life is saved. And I am told 'twas you
who did the deed at cost of much travail of heart and soul.
I must give thanks to you."

Palamon shook his bead. "My duty lay in trying with

280 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

all heart to do that deed. And yet it took persuasion at
great length to force me so to try- Do not thank me, 'twas
Lady Aelia's words that swayed me to the task."

"It still was noble. When they'd taken us into the bale-
ful, salten keep of Alyubol, I called you things that were,
at best, unkind. I now have learned that it was wrong of
me to say such things in haste. 'Twould ease my mind if
e'er you could excuse my cutting words."

"I would if there were need."

Ursid lay silently for a moment. His eyes slid shut as
if he were fighting off a great weariness. When he opened
them again, it was with effort that he spoke. "And Ber-
engeria has gained her goal?"

"Indeed she has. This ship is homeward bound; it takes
us all to fair Carea's shores."

"Carea's shores," Ursid repeated. "I've never seen that
land- Is it as lovely as she says it is?"

Palamon said, "She's never been there. She has had
to judge her homeland's beauty through her heart's own
eyes. All homes are beautiful when seen that way." He
paused. "Carea does not have the wooded hills or lustiness
of your native land, Buerdaunt. The hills are rocky, olive
groves abound, and herds of sheep bedot the rugged land."

"And I have lost her."

Those words, spoken suddenly with a note of despair,
brought Palamon up short. The younger man did not have
to explain the statement, spoken out of the blue, for Pala-
mon to understand the meaning. After all, if Palamon's
own future was uncertain, how much more so was Ursid's?
The young knight had betrayed his own land for Beren-
geria's love. And now that love would never be his.

Ursid spoke again, old memories returning to life
through the movement of his lips. "When I first beheld
fair Berengeria, 'twas in a tower of Pomfract Castle. I
could see her oft a-gazing down at all the sun-baked roofs
across our fair Buerdaunt. Her eyes seemed far away. As
you have said, she gazed at Carea, beheld it with the eye
that's in her heart. How beautiful she was." He shook his

head.

"She hovered far above the other maidens of Buer-

DENNIS MCCARTY             281

daunt, like orioles above the lesser fowl. I asked to be
among the guards who stood the watch upon her person.
Since I was related to the King, the post was mine. 1
cannot tell you of the thousand ways my heart flew to
her grasp. On her behatfl would have hacked pale Lothar's
neck in two."

He rolled his eyes toward Palamon. "My Lady Aeiia
tells me there is love between yourself and my Princess
most dear. She says that marriage is your likely end."

Palamon shrugged and looked away- Marriage with
Berengeria was indeed on his mind; it was something he
desired throughout his being. It was the course he would
take if alt obstacles could be overcome, even though he
was not certain it was the proper course. "That act is now
our goal."

"Oh, brutal wound. My heart is slain within me. 1 am
like a man who climbs a mountain made of sand." Ursid's
eyes shut and Palamon could see one hand clench. "0
Palamon, you are an honest man and yet your truth is
agony to me."

Palamon could feel the muscles of his face tightening
as he was filled up by the guilt for Ursid's suffering. Ursid
had forsaken country and kin for Berengeria; he had sus-
tained ghastly wounds, both to his body and to his soul.
Palamon's heart went out to him, yet love was a chariot
in which only two could ride.

For his part, Ursid lay silently for an instant; then his
features became animated. "She does not love me after
all my deeds and treason 1 committed for her sake."

Palamon interrupted. "A heart cannot select the one it
loves. There is no thought in love; it is a force which
drags a woman down the path it chooses."

"That does not matter, for I have a plan. Although
you're dear, more dear unto her heart than I am, there is
still a strategy by which I might possess her—tourna-
ment. A man who can excel upon the field can gain a
woman's hand, if not her love. 0 Palamon, that fact still
gives me hope."

Palamon simply let the younger man speak. There was
no sense interrupting him.

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282

"Although your skill at arms may well outweigh my
own, still I will challenge you when first the opportunity
presents itself- If I could win her hand, then it might pass
that I could strive to gain her deeper love."

Ursid's emotions were placing a greater strain upon
his weakened body than it could sustain for long- His face
was becoming flushed; the sweat was pouring from him.
What could Palamon say? His own culpability in this affair
prevented him from criticizing the younger man. "Me-
thinks I'd do the same if I were you."

Ursid s strength was visibly deserting him. His move-
ments slowed, the gleam in his eyes faded, and he relaxed
a bit. When he spoke again, it was in a thoughtful tone.
"It's sad that love has come between us two; 1 know that
there are many things which I could leam from you in
different times."

Palamon forced another smile. "Such things may hap-
pen still. One never knows."

"I hope so. Still, whatever comes, must come."

There was little more to be said. Ursid was exhausted.
Palamon took his leave and mounted the ladder that led
to the main deck, his emotions heated to a rolling boil.
He would have to fight Ursid for the hand of Berengeria;

there was no chance the young knight would relent. One
look into those eyes showed that. By all reason, such a
fact should have filled Palamon with regret: fighting for
the hand of a woman was farther from the ways he had
known all his life than love from death.

One thing was certain—he had to speak with Beren-
geria. He walked toward the officers' quarters. He found
her on the aft deck, standing with Aelia and the Com-
mander, watching the waves slide by as the galley's long
oars rose and fell like great, wooden wings.

All three heads turned as he approached. This was not
the time. He could not say the right words to Berengeria
then, not with the other two looking on. He was not sure
he could say them once they were alone. In any event,
he would wait.

Night came. The opportunity did not come with it.
Finally, after the evening meal, Palamon went with the

DENNIS MCCARTY

283

two women to the Commander's cabin, which had been
surrendered to the ship's royal passenger. The three of
them spoke for a while. But the topics they discussed
wandered far from what was on Palamon's mind, so he
finally whispered into Berengeria's ear, "We must have
words alone. I bear some news."

Berengeria nodded and fumed to Aelia. "My Lady,
would you pardon us awhile? My Palamon and I must
step outside and speak a moment. We will not be long."

Aelia's mouth tightened into a straight line. "Your
Highness must remember her life's duty."

"And so I do. But still we must depart." As she spoke,
Berengeria gazed steadily into the older woman's eyes.

"Our conversation shall be most discreet," Palamon
said. "My hands shall not stray forth. This fair Princess
shall not be ravished while homeward bound." His
expression was blank; even the smile he had worn so
many times was not present.

Aelia looked from Berengeria to Palamon, then back
again. "Do not converse where strangers may appear. The
privacy of this small chamber shall be yours, for it is I
who shall go forth." Quickly and without further words,
she left the two of them alone. Palamon did not speak as
he watched her go.

"She disapproves of us, as you can see," Berengeria
said. "Still, she will stand beside us, even though my
course is not the one she would have mapped."

Palamon took her hand. He held it before his face for
a moment, studying the soft ridges and valleys of her
knuckles. He had always been able to sense a fateful air
about this Princess; that fate now enveloped him and Ursid,
as well as her. Was that good, or bad? There could be no
doubt it was bad for Ursid. "If you should choose to steer
another track, I'll understand. This one is hazardous and
will demand determination ere we reach our goal."

Her free hand traveled to his shoulder. "I shall not
flinch if you stand by my side."

They kissed. Their lips clung together for a long time-
Such a kiss was a newfound delicacy to Pafamon—spiced
wine to a hermit. It made thoughts of fate and guilt seem

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trivial things, indeed; it was a wonder and was surely
reward enough for any sacrifice. But when the kiss was
over and they sat down together, Palamon stilt turned to      ,
the subject he had come to discuss. "I spoke with young

Ursid."

"And fares he well?"

"He's past all danger."                                   ;

"That is good to hear." Berengeria looked at Palamon,
smiling. "My love, is this the way you woo your bride?
By bringing news of one who fain would be your rival?"

"Ursid will challenge me when we reach shore. A trial
by combat is his hard intent, the victor to receive your
nuptial hand."                                            ';

She blinked as this news struck her. "A hurdle to be
crossed, Ursid's intent. But we can move to circumvent
his aim. When I have told my father of your deeds and
how you saved Ursid's own fleeing life, you will not need      !^
to battle him to marry me," She looked up at him, her      i|
face set.                                                 S|

Palamon took little comfort from her touch. He sighed,
cleared his throat, and looked toward the far side of the
chamber. "My aim is to accept his challenge."

"No. You need not do this thing to win my love."

"I must."

"You don't know what you do." She used her hands
to turn his face toward hers. "You have my love; do not
court injury at fate's mere whim by battling Ursid. He
might gain victory by some odd blow and take my hand
from you by foul mischance."

"My skill is greater. I can conquer him."
She wrung her hands. "You're obstinate. You don't
hear what I say. Although your skill in battle may out-
weigh his own the way the bull outweighs the gnat, still
we may be undone. In tournament, the specter of ill for-
tune could rise up and cast you to defeat, e'en though
your prowess rivaled with the gods."

"That's so. But still Ursid deserves his right."
Berengeria stood, then walked away a few steps and
looked back at Palamon, her eyes blazing. "Ursid is brave
and good, a worthy knight, and I admit I like him well

DENNIS MCCARTY

285

enough. But still, my love is given unto you. I have the
right to choose the man I wed. Must that right be usurped
because your pride demands that you accept all chal-
lenges? Must I be fought for like a piece of meat that's
cast between two hounds? Have I no choice? And if you
lose this duel, must I accept the consequence and marry
young Ursid? Though I am a Princess, my female role
now makes of me a prize, a trophy, and no more. I'll not
accept that. I will not."

Shaken by her words, Palamon gazed upward at those
flashing eyes. She was right; of course she was right. But
still, Ursid had sacrificed a great deal for Berengeria's
sake; he had rights too. And besides that, Palamon had
his own reasons for accepting the younger knight's chal-
lenge. How could he make her understand?

He stood up, the corners of his mouth no steadier than
the knees of a new foal. Silently, he wrapped his arms
about her. He knew she could feel the pressure of his
broad hands upon her back, because she closed her eyes
and relumed the embrace. Finally, he spoke. "I love you
so. I cannot say how much. But still I must take up the
gauntlet thrown."

Her hands clenched. "Why?" Her body strained against
his embrace as she expelled the word.

It took him a long time to reply; he gazed about the
chamber, his lips worked silently, he placed his hands
upon his hips. But he had to speak—he could not evade
the moment forever. At last he did. "My line of thought
should be made known to you. You are my love and you
shall know my mind." But instead of going on, he crossed
the cabin's deck, examined the woodwork, then turned
to look at her once more. There could be no doubt he
was choosing his words carefully.

"Although you are my love, my loyalty has long been
pledged unto the virgin Maiden, holy Pallas, whom I've
often wronged through my shortsightedness and my
neglect. I shall not wrong her more. You are my love.
But still, to take you to the marriage bed, forsaking this
great vow that I have made, could wrong myself and you,
as well as her." He paused, then went on. "Ursid gives

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me the means to know her will, for he can never master
me upon the field of honor—not without the aid of for-
tune's hand. If I can conquer, we may be assured divine
approval shines upon our love. If not..." He paused again.
"If not, it's best we know, ere we transgress."

She looked up at him. Her anger had spent itself, her
eyes were filled with moisture and it took her a moment
to speak. "Very well- This thing may come to pass. But
if I can prevent it, then I must."

He would not press this matter any further; he did not
choose to argue with this maid. They talked awhile longer,
of other things, small things. Afterward, when Palamon
returned to the deck, he saw Aelia standing against the
windward rail. Her face was drawn as she gazed out over
the moonglazed waters of the Thiassa Mey. For an instant
he was tempted to walk across the deck and speak with
her. She looked quite lonely. But he did not. He walked
forward, toward the bow.

Chapter Twenty-seven:

The Homecoming

WHEN THE MOUNTAINS of Bcrengeria's homeland stood
blue on the horizon the next morning, messenger pigeons
were brought on deck. The birds cooed innocently within
their crates while tiny ivory capsules were strapped onto
their legs. They would carry the tidings of Berengeria's
rescue. Once released, they rose from the deck together,
circled the ship a single time, then winged their ways
toward those blue mountains.

By the time the fleet cast lines out to the great harbor
mole of Lower Carea, it was evening. Still, there was no
doubt that the message had been received. A great throng
had gathered along the stone seawall; the cheering could
be heard even though the sound had to travel hundreds
of cubits,

Chariots approached along the cobbled surface of the
mole and the travelers climbed into them. Even Ursid,
pale and weak as he was, took part in this triumphant
march up the mole, through the streets of Lower Carea,
and along winding roads to Upper Carea. They rode past

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288 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

tilled hillsides and olive groves, and every cubit along the
road was occupied by an exultant citizen.

The ride was a long one; dusk turned to darkness and
the procession became a torchlight parade. It wound like
a flaming river along streets and over hills, until the outer
gates of the King's stronghold. Castle Conforth, were
reached. There the heroes left their chariots. They were
escorted past the outer wall and walked the hundred cub-
its to the steps of the royal inner sanctum.

Palamon was walking alongside Berengeria. He could
hear her breathing quicken with each step. At the head
of the nobles clustered at the top of the steps leading to
the keep stood an imposing old man. King Berevald. He
was tall, as tall as Palamon; his long beard and the hair
beneath his crown were white and they gleamed in the
torchlight. Beside him stood Goswinth, the Queen. She
was the reflection of her daughter, Berengeria; Palamon
loved her before the first greeting.

What was there that could be said of this reunion?
There were tears and embraces. Lower lips quivered as
emotions were held in check or sobs floated through the
air as those emotions burst free. There was a kind of rich,
quiet joy everywhere.

The returned adventurers were too exhausted for a
great banquet. Ursid, in fact, was nearly fainting. He was
taken to a chamber while Palamon and Aelia accompanied
the royal family to a sitting room where they talked for
a long time.

Berengeria was seated between the royal couple and
their eyes were often upon her. There was much touching
of hands. The praise flowed freely toward Palamon and
Aelia and also Ursid, even though he was not present.
Still, one topic lay at the center of Berengeria's part of
the conversation. She smoothly introduced Palamon to
her parents and told them of her desire to marry; it was
a fair gambit. The King and Queen were so overfilled with
Joy that they were easy game for her proposals.

The King examined Palamon closely and was impressed
by what he saw and heard. Palamon's actions during the
long journey to Carea spoke for themselves; despite his

DENNIS McCARTY

289

fall from the Knights of Pallas, his past was without blot,
as had been proven by the events within Reovalis* crystal
shell. The mighty Spada Korrigaine was shown to the
King and he looked upon it with wonder. Berengeria was
quick to point out the value to the legions of Carea of any
man who could wield such a weapon, for war between
Carea and Buerdaunt was another topic of discussion.
Upon the return of Berengeria. Berevald had closed the
Narrow Strait to all ships bearing the flag of that land; it
was unlikely that Lothar the Pale would fail to take up
the gauntlet.

Against such a background, Berengeria skillfully
secured the old King's blessing for her marriage to Pala-
mon. The question of the tall knight's low birth never
even arose.

So the consent of King Berenald and Queen Goswinth
was received within hours of the arrival at Lower Carea.
Still, the news had to be given to the court. This was done
the following morning. The audience chamber was packed
with courtiers, nobles, and officers; many craned their
necks or cupped their ears as King Berevald made the
happy announcement.

Ursid was also present. His pale features grew ghastly
as the King spoke, then he turned to the monarch. "And
I must exercise the right, my Lord, to challenge Palamon
for that fair hand. In combat I will face him. When one
falls, the victor shall wed Berengeria. This is my right; as
I am a knight, my services to her have justified this chal-
lenge for her hand."

There was sudden and uneasy silence. In the rear of
the chamber, someone coughed; there were a few whis-
pers. Drained by his speech, Ursid sagged to the tiles.
And there was no one in the room to aid him. At last,
Palamon stepped to his side to help him up and support
him with one arm.

Berengeria folded her hands before her bosom as she
looked from Palamon to Ursid, then back again. "My love,
my feelings have not changed. There is no need for you
to give an answer to the challenge of this man. To spum

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290

his words as if they ne'er were said is no disgrace, for I
have made my choice."

Palamon looked into her eyes as he helped Ursid into
a chair that had hastily been brought. "Perhaps it's so,
what you have said. But yet, it is an honorable claim.
Ursid has labored for your sake as long, as hard, and with
as much great pain as 1.1 cannot turn his challenge down,
for it would mark me as a low, base knight, were I to do
that after what he's suffered."

Berengeria turned to her father, imploring him with her
eyes and with her tongue. "My Father, though Ursid is
very brave, he's not my love. You must deny his chal-
lenge. Palamon has labored long and earnestly for me.
More battle now should not be forced on him."

King Berevald looked upon his daughter with his great,
gray eyes. The decision was hard, for he plainly adored
this long lost maiden and would have liked to maintain
her love. Still, he decided quickly. 'The challenge has
been laid down and received. My daughter, I would not
refuse your plea, except this combat seems, from all things
said, agreeable to both these noble knights. And yet, for
I am loathe to see you frown, I shall place these restric-
tions on their fight—1 shall declare a tournament be held
with near an hundred knights upon each side, one side to
be commanded by Ursid, the other by this noble Palamon.

"I further will declare now, to save blood and also to
prevent the loss of life, that square-capped lances be the
weapons used, as well as longswords, maces, and the axe.
No sharp-tipped arrows will compete that day, no stabbing
swords with biting blades, no knives, no poleaxe. And I
furthermore decree that two great stakes be set mto the
field. If any knight be brought unto the stake, though he's
not yielded, there he must abide.

"And when one chieftain thus is overcome, or when,
the gods forbid, one has been slain, the toumeying shall
end. The victor shall, upon my word of honor, have the
hand of Princess Berengeria."

And so the decision was made over the wishes of the
maiden who was its object. Such was the custom of the
lands about the Thiassa Mey. The details were quickly

DENNIS McCARTY               291

arranged; the great tournament would be held in late sum-
mer. The intent of the King was that this tournament be
bloodless, or as nearly so as could be arranged in those
hard times. The arrangements satisfied both Palamon and
Ursid, even if they did not satisfy Berengeria. The space
of two months which separated them from the date of the
great confrontation would allow time for Ursid's wounds
to heal, and Palamon could once again take up the training
with arms he had forsaken for the last eight years-

So the call went out. Knights from all about the Thiassa
Mey were invited to the great festival; from Ourms and
Oron and all the other cities except Buerdaunt they came.
They came from the Outer Islands as well, from Quarval
and from Muse.

For his part, Palamon prepared for the tournament with
fierce intensity. He no longer needed to ponder the right-
ness of his actions. If his love for Berengeria did not
offend the divine Maiden, he would triumph over Ursid-
If it did, he would know by the result of the combat.
While Ursid went into isolated preparation for the event,
Palamon trained himself at the military barracks in Upper
Carea, a stone's throw from the palace, where he had
been given quarters. He spent many evenings walking in
the gardens with Berengeria or in conversation with the
royal family.

Had it not been for Berengeria's opposition to the com-
ing struggle and his regrets about that, his joy would have
been complete. As it was, he found himself beset by nag-
ging doubts. Even now, was he doing the right thing? Had
fate selected him to become a part of Berengeria's future
or had it not? But in spite of his doubts, he found his love
for the robust young woman had matured into a feeling
of depth. His days were as happy now as they had ever
been since his expulsion from the Knights of Pallas; he
devoted himself to singleminded preparation for the com-
ing conflict.

The weeks before the tournament quickly passed away.
Knights of renown arrived from all parts of the known
world, to be joined by the finest gallants from Carean

292 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

nobility. The seaports along the coast were busy and the
hosielries of Upper Carea filled up like granaries.

On the morning of the great day, the sun rose hot and
overbearing, driving the dew from the lawns in steaming
clouds. All across the great city of Upper Carea there was
the hubbub of armor being polished, of coursers and pal-
freys being saddled, of breast plates and heartspoons being
laced into place, and of weapons being strapped onto
waists- The streets were full of gaily dressed ladies and
lords, as well as warriors riding tall upon their steeds,
bearing the flags and colors of many lands.

The great throng all tended in the same direction, toward
the broad meadows north of Castle Conforth, where the
tournament was to be held. Wooden platforms had been
erected there for the seating of the lords and ladies of the
court; tables were sagging with refreshments and the
steamy air hung heavy with anticipation of the drama to
be played out.

It was midmoming when Palamon arrived at the
meadow, the polished plates of his armor heavy upon his
back. He carried a great mace and wore the colors of no
land. With regret, he had decided to forego the colors of
the Knights of Pallas; it would have been an abomination
to have worn them while fighting for the hand of a woman.

When he arrived, he found the place filled with knights
practicing for the fray, even though the tournament was
not to begin until midday. He walked about, leading his
courser by the reins and greeting those knights who had
been assigned by lot to take his part in the mock battle.
His eyes searched the banner-draped platforms which lined
the broad Held, hoping to pick out Berengeria's face and
figure. But she had not yet appeared.

The day grew steadily warmer. The seats upon the
platforms were taken by a kaleidoscope of nobility, and
the field was ringed with spectators of every rank and
class. Ursid appeared on the far side of the field, his face
and posture painting a portrait of grim determination. He
was no longer a pale youth who bled from a dozen wounds.
The slashes had healed, although his body and face bore
many scars. His features were dark and intense.

DENNIS MCCARTY

293

Then Palamon watched as the royal train appeared
upon the platform reserved for King Berevald and his
attendants. The highest nobles of the land were there, as
were the King and Queen, tall and stately in their robes.
They had changed over the last weeks; their daughter's
rescue had lifted years from both of them, straightened
their backs, and ignited their souls. It had made Palamon
fee! good to see it.

Then Berengeria climbed the steps to the platform, her
features a mask of concern. Seated upon his steed, Pala-
mon gazed at her distant features until he saw her look
back. Even across the space which separated them, he
saw her brighten a bit. But his excitement only increased.

In spite of everything, Palamon's mind and body were
ready for the event, finely tuned for the coming moment,
ringing with the tension that mounted as he and Ursid
rode to the King's platform to receive their final instruc-
tions, Berevald's speech was short. He charged the two
knights to remember the rules of honor and chivalry, to
do honor to themselves and those they represented, and
to make this day memorable for its glory rather than its
tragedy. Then he bade them return to their respective
places and await his signal.

As they wheeled their horses, Palamon heard Beren-
geria's voice. "Dear Palamon, and also you, Ursid, since
I am made the object of this fray, I shall present a gift to
each of you, as called for by tradition. I present you both
with scarves which bear my family's crest. You both now
fight for me; I bless you both."

Palamon understood the speech, the gift, and Beren-
geria's reasons for giving both. Her heart was not in these
proceedings; she was reluctantly playing the role assigned
to her, playing it like the noble young woman she was.
She had been reared as a Princess; she would fulfill that
obligation, whatever the personal price. He had no doubt
of that.

His eyes fell. He regretted his part in her discomfort.
Still he was proud of her. Bearing up well beneath the
strain of her office, she asked the two knights to hold then-
helmets forth and then she tied a scarf to the beaver—

294

FUGHT TO THLASSA MEY

the visor—of each one, off to the side where it would not

block the vision.

But for Palamon she did a trifle more. It was not a
great thing; she simply let her palm rest upon his iron-
bound shoulder for an instant and looked at him with an
expression that seemed to say '*take care." That was all
she did. But when Palamon's glance next found Ursid's
face, the scarred features reflected bitterness, hatred, and
despair. Palamon sighed. It seemed there was no way for
him to be fair to himself without being unfair to others.
And the look in the young man's eyes foretold a bitter

battle.

Both men put on their helmets. The weather was hot;

Palamon's helmet rested heavily upon his shoulders and
the sun was already turning it into a cauldron which brought
the sweat popping from his brows. His horse was dancing
with excitement as he turned and rode to his own side of

the field.

The tension had reached the point that even the leaves
on the trees seemed aflutter with it; every face Palamon
saw was grim within its great helmet, and some were pale,
the skin stretched tightly across the bones. The issue soon
had to be decided. The crowd became quiet; silence reigned
from one end of the meadow to the other as King Berevald
extended his aim, his fingers clutching the comer of a
white handkerchief. The handkerchief fell; the tourna-
ment had begun.

Palamon flicked his spurs into the flanks of his horse
and the animal surged beneath him as its great hind legs
drove it toward the opposing line. His fellow knights were
all doing the same. The air was filled with the thundering
of hooves, flying clods, and the cheers of the throng as
the two companies hurtled against one another. Ursid was
Palamon's opposite number in the other line of knights,
and it was against that young man that Palamon aimed
his attack. He couched his heavy lance securely and
pointed the tip at Ursid's breastplate. Once unhorsed, the
young knight could be pounced upon and led to one of
the tall stakes at either side of the field, to meet defeat
according to Berevald's instructions.

DENNIS MCCARTY           295

But Ursid's intent was deadly. Palamon saw the youth-
fill warrior couch his own lance, the ironbound tip directed
at the beaver of Palamon's helmet. The young man was
showing no quarter; his tactic meant that he would accept
a fatal result if it came. Palamon lowered his head to one
side to dodge the blow. The lance missed. But in avoiding
it Palamon allowed the tip of his own lance to stray from
its target. Ursid caught it with his shield and the shaft
shattered against the hard surface, sending splinters far
into the air above their heads.

All across the field, this drama was being repeated with
variations. Lances shivered against stout shields and rid-
ers were thrown from horses. There were screams as
breastplates were pierced and the bright blood flowed;

keen-edged swords were drawn, along with maces and
battle axes, their deadly arcs ending in dented or cleaved
armor or broken bones.

Palamon could not seek Ursid out again. He was set
upon by knights of the opposing company and forced to
defend himself. With his shield he parried one opponent's
blow while freeing his heavy mace from its hanger upon
his belt. Then he struck back, smiting the man high on
the sword arm, bringing forth a cry and causing the knight
to drop the weapon.

At the same time, he was himself struck. A heavy blow
between the shoulders threw his head back and an explo-
sion of dancing lights flared inside his brain. He was help-
less for that instant but the following blow never fell. His
assailant had been knocked from the saddle by yet another
knight of Palamon's company.

And so the contest raged. Men were brought down and
set upon by their opponents, then dragged to the stake
while still struggling valiantly. There, judges recorded their
names upon parchments and they were eliminated from
the afternoon's combat. Soon, both sides of the field were
lined with disgruntled warriors; some were unharmed,
many bled or nursed broken or sprained members.

But in the center of the field the fighting continued.
Palamon remained on his horse, flailing with his mace.
Several times he had sent foemen reeling from their

296 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

mounts, but there were always more to take the place of
those who had fallen. The time galloped by. As he fought,
fatigue ate at the muscles of his right arm until he trans-
ferred the mace to his other hand and fought on, in itself
a prodigious feat- The sun pounded down upon his armor
and made it into his personal inferno. The sweat erupted
from his head, throat, and back, torrents sucked forth by
that blazing sun; his armor chafed and rubbed against the
wet places.

Then he saw a knot of unhorsed knights milling about.
engaged in a melee that swirled to and fro between the
stamping steeds. At the center of the fray, the crested
helmet of Ursid could be seen. He had been unhorsed.
But he was still fighting valiantly, his sword holding off
a trio of opponents.

Dodging a blow from another would-be challenger,
Palamon dismounted from his horse. The time had come.
The matter would be decided here. Grasping the handle
of his mace in one hand, securing his shield on his other
arm, he strode toward Ursid. The other knights gave way
before him and lowered their weapons, acknowledging
his right to meet the young knight alone. Facing one
another, the two men squared off in the center of a circle
of knights, fierce men who watched the way a herd of
mountain bighorns might have watched a battle between
two great rams.

The two men circled one another. Then, with the crash
of weapons, the duel began. The day's fighting had taken
its toll upon Palamon; he was not as young as he once
had been, and the fierceness of the battle had weakened
him more than it would have ten years earlier. Still, he
knew he had enough strength and skill left to make him
more than a match for the smaller Ursid. He circled his
younger opponent, beating down frenzied sword thrusts
the way a man would have batted at a flight of hum-
mingbirds.

Not for an instant did Palamon doubt the outcome, and
the issue did indeed move toward a quick conclusion.
Ursid impatiently swung a mighty blow with his sword;

it would have cleaved Palamon's armor, had it landed.

DENNIS McCARTY

297

But it did not land. Palamon's return blow struck Ursid
upon the wrist and the young knight's weapon flashed to
the ground.

Palamon was prepared to deliver the blow which would
have ended the struggle; his muscles tensed to send his
mace in an arc which would have ended at the point where
Ursid's helmet Joined his armor plate. But the tall knight
hesitated for an instant, swaying off balance as he glimpsed
Ursid's eyes, visible beyond the grating of the young
knight's visor.

There was something close to insanity in those eyes.
Even the visors of two helmets could not hide the rage,
the despair, the desperation, and the hatred. So Palamon
hesitated a half-instant in striking his opponent. That mar-
gin made the blow miss.

Ursid ducked beneath Palamon's swing, grasped his
fallen weapon, rolled clumsily away, and clambered to his
feet before Palamon could regain his advantage. Then he
rushed the tall knight savagely, delivering a ferocious blow
which cleaved the head of Palamon's mace from the han-
dle, sending the fluted iron ball rolling away into the grass.

Another blow sliced deeply into Palamon's shield; still
another left it a flopping ruin, Palamon was no longer
fighting for Berengeria now, nor for honor, nor to entertain
the spectators. He was fighting for his life. Ursid advanced
against him, strength doubled and redoubled by fury,
delivering more blows than Palamon could ever hope to
block.

One blow cut through the remains of Palamon's shield
and the tall knight felt the hot blood searing his arm.
Another dented the plate at his waist but did not break
through; still another sliced into the shoulder above his
sword arm. And beyond that, the fatigue of his years was
steadily turning his limbs into stone.

Now it was Palamon who faced defeat—and against
this enraged foe, defeat would mean death. If Palamon's
defense, which was steadily weakening, were to lapse, a
half dozen fatal blows would fall before the two men could
be pulled apart.

Protecting his neck with his arms, Palamon lowered

298      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

his head and charged Ursid, driving his helmet into the
younger knight's belly, denting the plate and nearly knock-
ing himself out with the blow. Together, the two men rolled
in the grass. Palamon was sick and giddy as he strove to
pin his opponent's sword arm. Finding himself on top, he
brought the ironbound haft of his mace down against the
side of Ursid's helmet. Once, then again and again he
struck desperately, until Ursid no longer struggled, and
he had survived by knocking the younger man senseless.
He lay atop Ursid's motionless form for a moment, then
tried to lift himself enough to crawl away. But he made
it only a few cubits before he collapsed into the grass.

He had not lost his consciousness, but he could not
stand nor even sit. The clouds and sky circled above him,
and he could feel the blood slosh about as he shifted within
his armor. Then he was surrounded. Many hands were
lifting his head, raising him into a sitting position, fumbling
for buckles and straps, and removing the blood-soaked
plates which had saved his life. Hands slid under his arms
and his helmet was pulled off; he was surprised at the
air's chilliness, now that his brains were no longer being
baked within that protective shell.

And then Berengeria was there. Concern had blotted
out her anger and opposition to the tournament. Weeping,
ignoring the blood that smeared her robes, she smothered
him with kisses, even while physicians bandaged his
wounds. He smiled and clasped her wrist, too weary to
rise. Then a litter was brought and he was placed upon
it and taken to the platform where the King and Queen

were still seated.

There, Berengeria stood by as the physicians helped
Palamon rise from the litter and kneel before the King.
A wreath was placed about his temples, to the cheering
of the throng. Then he was once more upon the litter,
gazing up at Berengeria, whose tears were falling warmly
upon his throat- For this moment, he was even more
overwhelmed by her than he had been by Ursid's furious
onslaught moments ago. He smiled and lifted a sweat-
soaked, bloodstained hand to caress her cheek. Her face
drew nearer, and they kissed. It was a tender kiss, accom-

DENNIS MCCARTY

299

panied by sounds of approval and good-natured applause
from the nobles sharing the royal platform.

Then Palamon spoke. "Have joy, my dear Princess.
It's not the time for tears or sobbing- All has been attained
that we have striven for through these long months." And
it was so. Palamon's heart was bursting with relief. He
had won this maiden's hand beneath the gaze of Pallas.
He could enter into this marriage with no blot upon his
happiness or hers.

Or could he? What had been the source of that furious
burst of energy Ursid had displayed as he had regained
his weapon and shredded Palamon's defenses with his
renewed attack? Where had been Pallas' approval as the
young man's blade had sent the tall knight's blood How-
ing? Palamon still did not know the will of his patron. He
might never know her will.

He sat up and looked about, still clasping Berengeria's
hand. "Where's Ursid?"

"He's being tended to across the way," Berengeria said.
"His wounds are not severe."

"Still, I must go to him." Palamon rose to his feet
unsteadily and took steps toward the end of the platform.
Instantly, Berengeria and the attendants were at his side,
steadying him, keeping him from falling." "You need not
do that," Berengeria said. "I will go to him and pay him
the respects his deeds deserve."

Palamon shook his head. "No, it's my duty; I shall go
to him." With his arms about the shoulders of a pair of
stout young men, he made his way down off the platform
across the meadow, to a place where fallen knights were
being tended. Berengeria went after this hobbling trio, her
hand lingering upon Palamon's shoulder.

There were several knights lying upon the grass before
them, the unfortunate by-products of a successful tour-
nament. One lay near death, his breastbone pierced by a
lance. There were several fractures and a multitude of
bruises and contusions, which would probably not even
be treated.

But Palamon's attention was turned toward Ursid. The
young knight sat upon the grass beside the others, the

300 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

armor stripped off his upper body and his helmet resting
in his lap. The left side of his face was swollen and puffy
where Palamon had hammered him; the swollen tissues
were already beginning to turn purple. A pair of teeth lay
in a clay bowl beside him and his left eye was bloodshot.
By the next day, Palamon knew, he would look ghastly.

Still, he seemed alert. He glanced up at Palamon and
his attendants, at Berengeria, then turned his head away,
his expression becoming more desolate than ever. "Con-
gratulations," he said, bitterly.

"Yes, that is my due," Palamon replied, trying to smile,
releasing his hold upon the shoulders of those who sup-
ported him, and kneeling at the young man's side. "I man-
aged to defeat a man whose sword dealt out more wounds
than any foeman I have faced for many years across the
Thiassa Mey."

"That may well be. But still, the victory's yours."
Ursid's tone tore at Palamon's heart.

"Is there a deed which I may do for you?'*

Ursid looked up at him for an instant- "There's one.
You may relinquish all your right to Berengeria, for whom
we fought. All other things are chaff; I do not want them."

**Ah, lad, if I could do it, I would make her twins, for
you deserve her just as much as I."

Ursid looked at him earnestly for a moment. The bit-
terness and pain faded from the youthful features but a
look of great desperation was still there. "One thing I ask
in all sincerely. Should anything occur to separate your
heart from this Princess we both pursue—if such a thing
occurred—then would you speak to her and to herrfather
for my sake?" Ursid's fingers clutched at Palamon's shoul-
ders as he uttered this plea.

What could Palamon say? No such thing could happen
in the short time which separated them from their wedding
day. Still, the request contained such a note of hopeless-
ness that it demanded an answer. What could it hurt for
him to make this meaningless concession, if only to give
this frustrated lover some peace of mind? He glanced over
his shoulder at Berengeria, then turned his head and nod-
ded.

DENNIS MCCARTY

301

Ursid closed his eyes and sighed. "Then I may dine
to hope."

Palamon patted the younger knight upon the shoulder
and rose to turn away. All this had made him dizzy; now
he sagged, reaching out for support, clutching Berenger-
ia's shoulder as the others caught him. He allowed himself
to be helped once more onto the litter, which fortuitously
had been brought, then he relaxed and shut his eyes,
holding Berengeria's hand as he was carried away. The
worst was over. Gods willing, they would be wed within
the month.

Chapter Twenty-eight:

An Artifact

THE DAYS PASSED away, the wedding date was debated
within the royal family, and Palamon's wounds mended.
He was able to rise and walk about the morning after the
tournament, although the King's physician forbade it; by
the day following that, he was able to assume a schedule
which included a long walk with Berengeria outside the
castle walls. They talked, they dreamed, they kissed more
than once.

But Palamon retained doubts. With every motion, stiff-
ness and the aching beneath his bandages reminded him
of just how close Ursid had come to attaining complete
victory. Had his patron, Pallas, saved him from the younger
knight? Or had she aligned with the forces which had
spurred Ursid*s ferocious onslaught? Had Palamon won
his slender victory without divine assistance? Did the holy
Maiden look down disapprovingly upon the coming nup-
tials? Most important of all, had he made the proper de-
cision while clinging to Berengeria's soft body inside that
mystical crystal shell all those weeks ago? He still could
not be sure.

302

DENNIS MCCARTY              303

On the third evening after the tournament, Palamon
was dining in his apartment high in one of Castle Con-
forth's towers when a courier arrived with word that his
presence was desired in the King's chambers.

"I certainly shall come," he said, wiping his lips with
a napkin, "but to what end?"

The courier winked and smiled. 'To help His Majesty
decide the date."

No more explanation was needed. Palamon rose and
allowed the courier to open the door leading from the
chamber. He did not hurry along the corridor which led
to the King's chambers; the physician had warned him
against that. But his mind raced ahead of him.

When he arrived, the King and Queen, Berengeria, and
Aelia were already waiting for him, seated upon campaign
chairs or reclining upon couches before a fire which had
been built to ward off the evening chill. Berevald stood
when Palamon entered, embraced the tall knight, and
examined his left forearm. "I see you still wear bandages.
Perhaps that soon shall be the vogue among the young
men of my court."

"Perhaps. But if I were to take them off, unwrapping
all this gauze and linen, it's my fear my shielding arm
would fall to pieces, for our young Ursid has hacked it
up most fearfully, despite my efforts to dissuade him from
the task." Paiamon smiled, although he was still uncom-
fortable about the subject of Ursid.

The King beamed. "It gives our people entertainment,
Sir. They love you now as much as they love me; 1 tell
you it brings warmness to my heart to see the way the
populace has looked upon you, taking you into their hearts.
I sometimes think they'd have you for their king." He
laughed at his own remark. "But now enough of that. I
do believe you know the reason I have called you here."

"Indeed, I do."

"Then let us set a date. For my part, I would have it
instantly, but there, of course, are thoughts of policy which
must affect our actions. Wedding banns must be affixed
to walls throughout our realm. I calculate three days to
do that deed and two more days for folk to travel here.

304 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

The greatest lords of this and other realms are here already
or the traveling would take far longer. Can you wait until
die sixth dawn sends its light across this land before you
claim your bride?"

Palamon smiled once more but the smile covered a raft
of conflicting emotions. "AU days are long when 1 must

wait for her."

The King laughed and clapped his hands. Berengeria
rose to move to Palamon's side, her face flushed. But at
that moment, the happy scene was interrupted. A knock
resounded against the great hardwood door to the cham-
ber. causing all the room's occupants to turn toward the
sound. An attendant stepped to the door and pulled it
open, revealing a trio of stem-faced soldiers.

The King's features grew dark. "How dare you inter-
rupt us at this time, when we consult with all our family?"

The soldier who stood farthest forward, an officer, knelt.
"My Lord and Leige, this very afternoon, before the Hes-
tian temple in the town, we found a fellow sulking on the
porch in such a way we knew he meant no good."

"Indeed? Are all such matters brought to me?"

"They're not, my Lord, but this was different. When
he observed us soldiers watching him, he tried to flee into
an alleyway. We then pursued him and ran him down like
dogs, but when we grasped him, he began to laugh and
called us fools to think we could prevent the deed that he
was sent here to perform.'*

Silently, the King motioned for the officer and the sol-
diers to enter the chamber.

The officer rose and did so, followed by the othe» two.
Then he continued his account. '"What deed is that?' I
asked him. Once again he laughed at me and then he said,
'Just this: the ruination of your dear Princess.'"

Gasps rose from several throats. "Describe this man,"
Aelia said. "Did he wear long white robes?"

The officer looked at Aelia in surprise. "Indeed he did.
He wore such clothing and was very pale. A little thin
moustache was all the color on his face.

Palamon, who was still standing beside Berengeria, felt
the young woman's body go tense. Her voice was hardly

DENNIS McCARTY               305

even a whisper as she spoke. "Navron, the henchman of
foul AlyuboL"

At the mention of those names, the King's face became
very grave. He looked at his daughter, then back at the
officer. "What action did you take?"

"We cast him down into the donjon of this citadel."

"That's good. I want him under lock and key and
watched without a respite. You've done well."

The officer noded, then fumbled at his belt and brought
forth a small object, as big around as a large coin and
half-cubit in length. "We searched him and discovered
this."

"What is it?" The King took the object from the offi-
cer's hand and stared at it a moment. Then his face became
a mass of lines, half-hidden by his white beard. He dis-
missed the soldiers with a wave of one hand, waited until
the door had closed behind them, then turned toward
Queen Goswinth and uttered a strange cry, a sound that
was half-bestial- Then he clutched the object to his breast.
"The fiends. Those cunning, less-than-human friends. Foul
Alyubol has sent this thing to us at this, the moment of
our reborn joy, to crush us once again with memories."

"What is it?" Berengeria asked, while her concern
seeped out through her features.

The King did not answer with words; he handed the
object to the Queen, whose face had already become
drawn. As she touched it, a tremor ran through her body,
causing her robes to move. For a moment tears flowed
onto her cheeks and her shoulders shook with her ill-
concealed sobbing. Then she composed herself, quickly
wiped her face, and turned to Berengeria. "It is just an
old baton, a badge of rank our officers once bore."

As Berengeria stared at her mother questioningly, the
King began to speak. 'There's not been such an item in
this land since Beredoric, our own firstborn son, was
stolen from us. He once played with one. You know how
young ones are; they cast away some charming toy to
play with useless trash. So was it with our Beredoric. His
first toy was this baton, just small enough to fit his tiny
hand. He clung to it."

306 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

He became silent and sat with his lower lip clamped
between his teeth. The Queen continued the account he
had begun, handing the baton to Berengeria. "When we
knew our poor son was gone forever and would not return,
your father gave the order for batons like this one in our
armies to be brought together in one place and then
destroyed, for it brought horrid pain to look on one. With-
out exception, that act was performed. Foul Alyubol has
kept this one baton for eight and thirty years, until this
time, in order to distress us once again." She sighed.
"Prince Beredoric loved it like a pet. He'd shake it back
and forth, then let it drop and laugh when it was given
back to him. Almighty gods." Overcome by emotion, the
old woman turned away.

"It's broken," Berengeria said, turning it about. "And
there's writing on one side. Here's what is printed: 'He
who serves his King becomes a noble whate'er be his..."
She stopped, puzzled. "Rank? Position, status? That
word's broken off."

Palamon had been casually watching Berengeria read
the inscription- Now he stared at her. He looked more
closely at the object held by his bride-to-be. "Blood? Is
that the word? Do you recall the words inscribed there?
'He who serves his King becomes a noble, whate'er be
his blood?'" He took the object as Berengeria handed it
to him, but hardly had the strength to hold it.

"Indeed, that's what it said." The King looked up at
Palamon with questioning eyes. "How did you know? A
flood of years has washed across this land since last I
beard that phrase exclaimed aloud. How did you know?"

"That word's the very first I ever learned to read when
just a child." Palamon attempted to force a smile onto his
features, realizing the resulting expression probably looked
ghastly. Sweat was oozing from his forehead, and his knees
were practically shaking; the strength had gone from him
the way water goes from a shattered um. More than any-
thing else, he wanted to leave, to run away, to escape the
stares of the people within this chamber. But he was not
sure he could even walk without his legs failing him.

The pieces of the puzzle were all falling into place. All

DENNIS McCARTY

307

through his childhood he had pondered his lone posses-
sion, a broken piece of horn as big around as a large coin,
just long enough for the word "blood" to be inscribed
upon it. He had even had it attached to the pommel of
his sword to tie him to an unknown past. He understood
everything now—the inscription, the baton, and Reo-
valis' veiled references.

Most of all, he understood the misgivings he had always
felt. Fate had tied him to Berengeria indeed, but in a way
he never could have imagined. It was all so clear now.
He had been right and wrong, all at the same time. Fate
had bound them together and a catastrophe had awaited
them. Now that catastrophe had arrived. He understood
all these things, and he was the only one who did.

He walked away from the others. What was he to do?
What could he tell them? How would he deal with their
stares once they knew? He paced the length of the cham-
ber, then turned about, looking back at them. The wounds
inflicted by Ursid had become no more than scratches
compared to this unseen lesion inflicted by his own folly.
He looked at them all, but stared longest at Berengeria.
How could he tell her? What would she say?

At last, he found the strength to speak and addressed
his words to the King, "My Lord, I beg indulgence from
you all. May I speak now with Berengeria?"

"How urgent can it be?" the King said.

"It's very grave."

The King looked down at the floor for an instant. "I
know your meaning, sir. It is your wish to leave the two
of us, my wife and me, alone with all our memories. I
can appreciate a gesture such as that. We two shall now
retire. Do as you wish for what remains of this long eve-
ning. In the morning we'll rejoin and then continue with
the wedding's plans." He rose and accepted the Queen's
hand. When they had left the chamber, Aelia also excused
herself, promising to return if summoned.

Now Palamon and Berengeria were alone. She turned
to him, her face full of mixed expressions. "My love, I
relish opportunities like this one, when we two are all
alone. But tell me, why have you become so pale?"

308 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

"I didn't know that I'd become all pale," Palamon said,
swallowing. "No, that is not the truth. I am awhiri with
eddies of emotion brought about by looking at that broken
old baton." He gestured with his eyes toward the baton
which now lay upon a little brass table at the center of
the chamber, as if carelessly discarded. It had not been
discarded carelessly, though; Palamon knew that. Even
in his agitated state, he had noticed that the Queen had
taken it back from Berengeria, had glanced at it, turned
her head away, and put it down. Then she had exited the
room. She had not been willing to have it thrown out, but
neither had she been able to gaze upon it any longer. So
many hard emotions, all brought about by a baton made
of carved hom.

What was he to tell Berengeria? He did not know; he
did not even know how he would begin. At last he was
able to find some words, although he doubted that they
were the best ones available. "Do you recall the sword 1
carried when we first escaped the walls of old Buer-
daunt?"

"I hardly looked at it, except to note it as a weapon
one might see displayed by noble warriors."

"You did not see the pommel, then?"

"I never looked at it."

Palamon sighed, then sat down. His legs would not
bear his weight any more. He missed every drop of the
blood Ursid had spilled. "The pommel bore naught save
a piece of horn that I had kept with me since first I'd
come to Pallas' Fastness. Where I came by it I do not
know. But when I was a child, it was the lone possession
I e'er held. It was a broken bit. 'Twas round and red; the
color was near worn away by time and handling. Twas
a large coin's width across—and on it there was scribed
a single word." Palamon's voice died away as he looked
at Berengeria. She was eighteen years his junior, yet her
face seemed to be aging before his eyes.

"Go on," she said in a strange voice.

"I had it cast into the handle of my sword to tie me to
my unknown past. That single word I pondered o'er
was..."

DENNIS McCARTY

309

"Blood." Berengeria interrupted him, her face sagging,
a strange light in her eyes. "And that is how you knew
the ending to the motto. You're my brother, Palamon."

Palamon nodded silently, choking on the emotion that
was welling up inside him. He closed his eyes; he could
no longer look at this woman who, a few moments before,
had been his future bride. The sword was gone now—all
physical proof was gone. But there were too many other
proofs for him to ignore them all.

Berengeria turned away, a half-stunned expression
across her features, and began pacing the room. "And all
this time our love was just the sin of incest. What I feet
for you right now is such a sin men shrink before the
name. Men writhe for all eternity within the stinking caves
of Tartarus for less."

Palamon rose behind her and tried to place his hands
on her shoulders, but she twisted away and he let them
fall to his sides. "For all of that," he said, "we did not do
the deed."

"I did it in my heart." Berengeria walked to the fire-
place and struck the marble mantlepiece with one hand.
"I wanted you. I spoke to you before you spoke to me
and cast aside my modesty for you, pursued you till 1
broke all barriers." She turned and looked up at him, tears
bursting forth. "I want you even now, in spite of all. I
love you in a way no sister should." She buried her face
in her hands and sobbed.

He stepped toward her once more and they embraced,
though even that embrace filled Palamon with a sense of
sinfulness. It was not the embrace of a brother for a sister;

it was the throbbing embrace of two lovers united by
shame and misery. For a moment, Palamon was lost in
that embrace. He had no tears to match Berengeria's tears,
he had no sobs, no weeping. His soul was filled with
desperation. They would run away together, they would
find a place, a tiny village in some unknown land. They
would live together in some hut. They would leave Carea
and Buerdaunt and Pallas and the Dark Capes all behind.
They would live not for eternity but for the here and now
and for one another only.

310 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Their arms slipped apart and Berengeria turned away
once more, laughing recklessly. "I really should be glad.
My parents have another child they thought was lost to
them. The eldest heir is back to claim his rights; one more
defeat is handed Alyubol." She paused, her lips trembling.
"Just think what horror would have taken place if foul
Navron had not been apprehended. Had our wedding come
to pass, we'd have been lost."

Palamon had no more words. Grief and confusion were
eating up all the words he could conceive; he could only
stand and watch as Berengeria made her way drunkenly
along the oak-paneled wall, weeping and laughing in alter-
nate spasms. At last, her emotions spent, she sank into
a chair and sat silently for a long time. Then summoning
some unseen strength, she looked about, leaned to one
side to remove a silk napkin from a table, and dabbed at
her face. "Enough of this. We cannot curse the fetes,
however their betrayals make us bleed. We must go on;

life's duties beckon us."

Palamon looked down at her, his heart breaking. Indeed,
this all had been a prank by the Fates. Berengeria's reac-
tion, the manner in which she was summoning up all her
resources, was the embodiment of courage. How he loved
her for that. But she was his sister and their love could
never be anything more than the love of a brother for a
sister, even though his heart ached for her and his body
sang for her touch. He knelt suddenly before her and
placed his head in her lap. He had so many tears for her
and for himself but they would not come. He knelt there
for a long time, silently resting his head on her knees.

But at last he had to stand once more. They had to
come to terms. He raised his head and they looked at one
another across the new gulf which had opened up between
them. "And we must tell your parents," he said.

"Even so. Our parents, Beredoric."

"What of you? You still have got a suitor in Ursid."

Berengeria began what sounded like a little laugh, then
broke it off with a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders. "Ah,
yes, I have a suitor in Ursid. Who knows? Perhaps 1*11
wed him. If I do, it shall be my decision and not his.'*

DENNIS McCARTY

311

She rose, then spoke matter-of-factly. "Now we must go
and tell the King and Queen they have another child
returned to them."

"I cannot do that yet. Let us stay here."

"It must be done. Imagine how their joy will fill the
corridors. They've gained the son. the Beredoric who was
lost to them."

"Indeed, there shall be joy. But still, I'd like to wait
with you a little while. I've been a son for less time than
1 need to ready me to cross the unknown bridge, I'll
stumble if I move too fast." He paused for a moment.
"And once we walk out of this room and spread the news,
we then shall just be siblings. Our poor souls may not
again allow themselves to join as one in spirit. Then I'll
be alone once more."

Berengeria placed a hand upon his shoulder. "No, you'll
not be alone. You have a family now, and all our love—
our family's love—is armor 'gainst the worid."

"Perfiaps." But Palamon was not convinced. He already
could sense Berengeria moving away from him. "But still
I feel I am adrift. Yes, even as we speak, we float apart;

that refuge and that haven 1 have sought goes glimmering
and fades beyond the waves." He stood and walked toward
the door. "When I return, it shall be soon enough."

He left the chamber. How could he face his parents
now, when only moments ago they had been the parents
of his bride-to-be? He would grow to love his parents; he
knew that. He loved them already. But Berengeria had
shared his soul. Indeed, he was alone once more, and so
was she.

He strode along the corridor, leaped down the steps
which led to the base of the tower, and walked out into
the castle's inner bailey, staggering, his body protesting
the mistreatment. Almost without realizing it, he was
walking toward the stables. He reached the great wooden
sheds and made his way to the stall where his own courser
was kept, breathing heavily as he pulled the animal into
the open and began saddling it. Grooms appeared from
all directions to help him. At last he stood back and
watched as they unquestioningly prepared his mount.

312      FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

Then, without putting on a cloak against the chilly night
air, he trotted out into the courtyard, through Castle Con-
forth's gate, and onto the road which led toward Lower

Carea.

Into the night he rode, the lights of the castle receding
behind him. He looked up at the stars, the heavenly vault
held up by the forces which guided the lives of men. How
could they have played this prank upon him and upon
Berengeria? He turned his voice to the heavens, a voice
that was little more than a croak. "Ye mighty gods! In all
your endless worlds, is there no scrap of mercy to be
found?"

Chapter Twenty-nine:

Sir Palamon

ON THE WESTERN shore ofthe Thiassa Mey, dark cliffs
loomed over the breakers, throwing back the spume as
the relentless waves dashed themselves against the hard
rocks below. At the point where these cliffs reached their
greatest height, a road led along the rim, offering travelers
a heart-stopping view. In this place a man could stand
upon the cliff's edge and feel as if he were at the end of
the world; he could feel the buffeting of the sea winds,
listen to the dismal roaring of the elements, and watch
the breakers a thousand cubits below as they stretched
in endless rows across the sea.

This is the place Palamon had reached by morning.
He lingered now upon that road, his gaze sweeping
between the olive groves a league off to the northwest,
and the surging sea below, highlighted by the rays of
the day which had just begun. Behind him, the black
cliffs stretched away and away toward the Narrow Strait,
dropping off gradually until they plunged into the sea—
into the white-capped channel which led to Lower Carea.

313

314

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

To that point palamon would travel. He had spent
the night riding his courser aimlessly; now he would ride
down to the ferry which plied the Strait and begin his
journey back to the Fastness of Pallas. Against the plead-
ing of any logic, he would do this. He wanted to go
back; in the depths of his soul, he knew that the great,
gray castle with its high walls and turrets, its streaming
banners, and its great, vaulted gates, would lie at the
end of any journey.

He was chilled by the morning breeze. At this time,
the abbots, clerics, and postulants who resided within the
Fastness, along with the Knights who were not riding out
upon this day, would be gathering in the high chapel for
their early devotions. Palamon had taken part in these
same services many times in the distant past. He smiled
wanly at the thought. Would that he had never left those
high, secure walls.

But here he was. He had paused in his journey to
feel the wind tugging at his hair and to listen to the
moaning of the elements below. Why had he come to
this particular place, and why would he ride on? Surely
there was more for him back in Carea. There, he was
the heir to the throne. He was Beredoric, the eldest
prince. There was honor awaiting him there, with the
love of his family.

But pain also waited for him in that place. How could
he face Berengeria? What would he say to her? How could
he answer for what he had done to her?

On the other hand, what lay ahead of him if he did not
go back? He could go to the Fastness of Pallas—for what?
To petition for readmittance? He would have gladly done
that, but the laws and obligations of the order were rigid.
A stone could swim before a degraded Knight could even
be allowed across the drawbridge, let alone be restored
to his former place of honor. And there was the matter
of Arlaine to consider. To claim that he had never broken
his vows and compromised that maiden would be to reject
the sacrifice he had originally made for her. No, the fact
other father's incest with her could never be made known.

DENNIS McCARTY           315

And for that reason, there was no place for Palamon within
those distant towers.

Turning in his saddle, he stared again at the waves
crashing against the black rocks far below. The answer
held by those glistening boulders was, perhaps, the eas-
iest. One leap, a vault from these towering cliffs, and all
questions would be answered forever.

Still, that would be a craven act, more dishonorable
even than the dishonor of breaking his vows and humil-
iating his sister. To surrender in the face of life's pum-
meling—that was the ultimate cowardice. Grimacing, he
looked away from the beckoning rocks below.

"Palamon." It was afemale voice, one the like of which
he had never heard before. It was a crisp, clear voice, a
whisper that still floated plainly to his ears. "Palamon."

He looked about. There behind him, standing upon the
verge of the cliff, was a maiden of unearthly beauty. Her
hair was a light, light blond color where it flowed out from
beneath her shawl, the grayest of ash blondes. Her body
was enveloped by soft robes, leaving only her hands and
face exposed to his eyes. Still, the style was such that
her form was accented as well as concealed. Her face was
a maiden's face; her manner befitted some world-wise
matron. She smiled up at him as he stared back at her.
"Come here, brave Palamon."

Amazed, he swung from his saddle and approached
her. And then he looked into her eyes, those dark, bot-
tomless, bewitching eyes. They were not human eyes.
They were gray, though not the gray of the stones of the
Fastness of Pallas nor the gray which graced the banners
and tapestries of that structure. Her eyes were the endless
gray of the sounding sea, the gray of voids between worlds.
He gazed into those eyes and he saw the emptiness of
eternity. And he knew who she was. Staggered, he knelt
upon the rocks before her, bowing his head. "Oh holy
Maiden, tell me what you will."

"The years pass by. You have both risen high and fallen
low since first your infant form lay wailing at my door."
'The path is long and difficult to follow as it winds."
"Some men stray off, some who are dear to me. Still,

316

FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

you have followed well, although the path is often hidden,
difficult to trace."

"Indeed," Palamon said. "And there are thorns. They
gouge the flesh as men seek out the way. Cannot you
gods, as you observe this world, take pity's part, prune
back those nettles where they press in close?"

"Do you propose to criticize the gods?"

Palamon was silent. How could he frame a response?
He stammered but he could not speak; then words blurted
from his mouth, words he could hold back no longer.
"Oh Maiden, how the thorns of life gouge deep. Why
is it you do not relieve the pain; they penetrate into
men's very souls." It was impossible for him to maintain
himself as he spoke; he leaned forward and wrapped his
arms about Pallas' knees in helpless entreaty. Again the
tears rushed to his eyes but he did not allow them to
flow. He held them back. He would not shame himself
before this divine Maiden. Then, in spite of all he could
do, they came.

He felt the palm of the Maiden laid softly upon his hair.
Something changed. His grief did not go away but he felt
flowing into him the strength to withstandjt awhile longer;

the pain of the wounds he had sustained subsided. Her
voice became tender. "We gods observe the suffering of
men. We act in our own ways. Do you know how we act
to heal the hurts of mortals?"

Palamon shook his head.

"We cure the world by giving it such men as kneel
before me here upon this cliff."

"Can you still say that, after what I did, the grief I
brought poor Berengeria?"

"Ah, Berengeria." The voice seemed far away. "She
is like you- The house of Berevald is Fortune's toy; you
all are playthings of your destinies. Your Berengeria will
suffer some, but she shall do great things in her own time.
She does not have your soul, my Palamon, but you have
not her will to overcome. Her tale will not be finished for
some time."

Then Pallas placed her smooth hand beneath his chin
and lifted his head until their eyes met. "But now I deal

DENNIS MCCARTY

317

with you, and not with her. Arise, Sir Palamon, for that's
your name. Yet stay a moment; it is not my wish to send
you off without some small reward. First, noble Palamon
must take a wife. His services to me deserve that much.
This act will not betray his vows to me for my wish now
is that he get a son. My knight he is indeed, though not
in name.

"A wife. Oh, Maiden, there is none for me. My love
for Princess Berengeria was doomed by fate, forestalled
by my own birth."

Pallas laughed. The bell-like peals of her mirth floated
upon the air until the atmosphere seemed filled with
ringing music. "Not Berengeria—another one who suite
you more, although you know it not. She loves you
deeply, though she keeps that hid. Her mind is quick,
her character is strong, she is a match for you in every
way—though you, unworldly man, have marked it not."

Palamon nodded weakly. "Where shall I find this
maid?"                            „

"She shall be found. And you will know her when it
comes to pass. Before I go, accept another gift. Although
you cannot ever in your life take up the colors of my
noble Knights, you still have earned such armor as they
wear. Accept this mail and wear it; shed your guilt."

Then she was gone. Pallas had disappeared; it was as
if she had never stood. Blinking in astonishment, Palamon
observed a hauberk of chain mail neatly folded on the
stone where her feet had rested. It was like the lustrous,
greenish-gold mail worn by the Knights of Pallas, but the
luster was far deeper than the finish of the armor he had
possessed before; it was the glow of a sunset sky over
tossing fields. This chain mail seemed alive, crafted in the
forges of the heavens. A breath escaped his lips as he
touched it. Was this his bribe? Was this to buy back his
faith after the blows fate had dealt him? Then what was
Berengeria's payment?

But those questions were without meaning. He had
spoken with the Maiden. The cares laid upon his shoulders
had become bearable burdens. And if Berengeria's inner

318 FLIGHT TO THLASSA MEY

strength was not enough to see her through life's gauntlet,
he would help her, too.               ,

Taking the bundle up, Palamon mounted his steed and
rode forth. But this time he turned his face back toward
Upper Carea and Castle Conforth. It was there he would
seek his future, for it was there he had begun his past.

He had gone only a short way when he spied a solitary
figure riding up the sloping road toward him. As they
approached one another, he was able to make out the
features. It was a woman, not a man. The slender form
belonged to none other than Aelia, the astute guardian
who had watched over Palamon's own Berengeria for
so many years. Her duty discharged, she seemed to be
seeking him out in this lonely place. Was she the one,
then? Was she the bride selected by the Maiden? .

He hailed her as they approached one another. "My
Lady, what can bring you to these cliffs?"

"My Lord, we could not find you on the road which
leads down into Lower Carea. I thought perhaps you might
have ridden here to watch the winds arrive from foreign
lands."

He looked at her keenly. She was looking back at him,
the wind tossing her short, dark hair, twisting it into pat-
terns about her face. What was she thinking? After a
pause, she spoke again. "You must go back with me; I
know your tale. Your father should be told of your return.
Ride with me now; your future's waiting there."

He watched her all the while she was speaking. Was
she the one? He had always had high regard for her. Still,
it was hard to accustom himself to the notion of her as a
mate. Perhaps he had not watched her closely enough in
the weeks they had traveled together. "Indeed, the words
you speak are true. In fact, this same conclusion is made
clear to me. Together, we shall hurry home."

Home. That was a word he had not used for many
years. Whether it was by his own will or not, that word
now meant rockbound Carea. It would be painful to return;

he would have to reach to the bottom of his soul to become
a Prince of Carea. But it had to be done- Berengeria could
have done it-

DENNIS McCART-y           319

Aelia turned her horse and they went together They
rode along the sloping cliffs, then turned and rode away

from the sea wind that buffeted the western shore of the
Thiassa Mey.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DENNIS MCCARTY was born on June 17, 1950, in Grand Junc-
tion, a small town in western Colorado. His family traveled
a great deal because of his father's work. By the time he had
graduated from nigh school, Dennis bad attended eight dif-
ferent public schools, most of them before he was twelve.

He graduated in English from the University of Utah and
served four years m the United States Coast Guard. Over the
years, his hobbies have included fishing, hunting, photogra-
phy, and automobile racing.

His greatest love has always been reading and writing
fiction, however. He made his first attempt at a novel of
science fiction when he was seven. He began writing seriously
at the age of twenty, although Flight to Thiassa Mey is his
first published novel.

^              Dennis and his wife, Kathy, were married in 1972. They
have two daughters and reside in Naples, Utah.