The Miracle Workers
                            Jack Vance

                                     I

   The war party from Faide Keep moved eastward across the downs: a
column of a hundred armored knights, five hundred foot soldiers, a train
of wagons. In the lead rode Lord Faide, a tall man in his early maturity,
spare and catlike, with a sallow dyspeptic face. He sat in the ancestral car
of the Faides, a boat-shaped vehicle floating two feet above the moss, and
carried, in addition to his sword and dagger, his ancestral side weapons.
   An hour before sunset a pair of scouts came racing back to the column,
their club-headed horses loping like dogs. Lord Faide braked the motion of
his car. Behind him the Faide kinsmen, the lesser knights, and the
leather-capped foot soldiers halted; to the rear the baggage train and the
high-wheeled wagons of the jinxmen creaked to a stop.
  The scouts approached at breakneck speed, at the last instant flinging
their horses sidewise. Long shaggy legs kicked out, padlike hooves plowed
through the moss. The scouts jumped to the ground, ran forward. "The
way to Ballant Keep is blocked!"
  Lord Faide rose in his seat, stood staring eastward over the gray-green
downs. "How many knights? How many men?"
  "No knights, no men, Lord Faide. The First Folk have planted a forest
between North and South Wildwood."
   Lord Faide stood a moment in reflection, then seated himself and
pushed the control knob. The car wheezed, jerked, moved forward. The
knights touched up their horses; the foot soldiers resumed their slouching
gait. At the rear the baggage train creaked into motion, together with the
six wagons of the jinxmen.
  The sun, large, pale, and faintly pink, sank in the west. North Wildwood
loomed down from the left, separated from South Wildwood by an area of
stony ground, only sparsely patched with moss. As the sun passed behind
the horizon, the new planting became visible: a frail new growth
connecting the tracts of woodland like a canal between two seas.
   Lord Faide halted his car, stepped down to the moss. He appraised the
landscape, then gave the signal to make camp. The wagons were ranged in
a circle, the gear unloaded. Lord Faide watched the activity for a moment,
eyes sharp and critical, then turned and walked out across the downs
through the lavender and green twilight. Fifteen miles to the east his last
enemy awaited him: Lord Ballant of Ballant Keep. Contemplating the next
day's battle, Lord Faide felt reasonably confident of the outcome. His
troops had been tempered by a dozen campaigns; his kinsmen were loyal
and singlehearted. Head Jinxman to Faide Keep was Hein Huss, and
associated with him were three of the most powerful jinxmen of
Pangborn: Isak Comandore, Adam McAdam, and the remarkable Enterlin,
together with their separate troupes of cabalmen, spellbinders, and
apprentices. Altogether, an impressive assemblage. Certainly there were
obstacles to be overcome: Ballant Keep was strong; Lord Ballant would
fight obstinately; Anderson Grimes, the Ballant Head Jinxman, was
efficient and highly respected. There was also this nuisance of the First
Folk and the new planting which closed the gap between North and South
Wildwood. The First Folk were a pale and feeble race, no match for human
beings in single combat, but they guarded their forests with traps and
deadfalls. Lord Faide cursed softly under his breath. To circle either North
or South Wildwood meant a delay of three days, which could not be
tolerated.



  Lord Faide returned to the camp. Fires were alight, pots bubbled,
orderly rows of sleep holes had been dug into the moss. The knights
groomed their horses within the corral of wagons; Lord Faide's own tent
had been erected on a hummock, beside the ancient car.
   Lord Faide made a quick round of inspection, noting every detail,
speaking no word. The jinxmen were encamped a little distance apart
from the troops. The apprentices and lesser spellbinders prepared food,
while the jinxmen and cabal-men worked inside their tents, arranging
cabinets and cases, correcting whatever disorder had been caused by the
jolting of the wagons.
  Lord Faide entered the tent of his Head Jinxman. Hein Huss was an
enormous man, with arms and legs heavy as tree trunks, a torso like a
barrel. His face was pink and placid, his eyes were water-clear; a stiff gray
brush rose from his head, which was innocent of the cap jinxmen
customarily wore against the loss of hair. Hein Huss disdained such
precautions; it was his habit, showing his teeth in a face-splitting grin, to
rumble, "Why should any hoodoo me, old Hein Huss? I am so inoffensive.
Whoever tried would surely die of shame and remorse."
   Lord Faide found Huss busy at his cabinet. The doors stood wide,
revealing hundreds of manikins, each tied with a lock of hair, a bit of
cloth, a fingernail clipping, daubed with grease, sputum, excrement,
blood. Lord Faide knew well that one of these manikins represented
himself. He also knew that should he request it Hein Huss would deliver it
without hesitation. Part of Huss's mana derived from his enormous
confidence, the effortless ease of his power. He glanced at Lord Faide and
read the question in his mind. "Lord Ballant did not know of the new
planting. Anderson Grimes has now informed him, and Lord Ballant
expects that you will be delayed. Grimes has communicated with Gisborne
Keep and Castle Cloud. Three hundred men march tonight to reinforce
Ballant Keep. They will arrive in two days. Lord Ballant is much elated."
  Lord Faide paced back and forth across the tent. "Can we cross this
planting?"
   Hein Huss made a heavy sound of disapproval. "There are many futures.
In certain of these futures you pass. In others you do not pass. I cannot
ordain these futures."
   Lord Faide had long learned to control his impatience at what
sometimes seemed to be pedantic obfuscation. He grumbled, "They are
either very stupid or very bold planting across the downs in this fashion. I
cannot imagine what they intend."
  Hein Huss considered, then grudgingly volunteered an idea. "What if
they plant west from North Wildwood to Sarrow Copse? What if they
plant west from South Wildwood to Old Forest?"
  "Then Faide Keep is almost ringed by forest."
  "And what if they join Sarrow Copse to Old Forest?"
  Lord Faide stood stock-still, his eyes narrow and thoughtful. "Faide
Keep would be surrounded by forest. We would be imprisoned. . . . These
plantings, do they proceed?"
  "They proceed, so I have been told."
  "What do they hope to gain?"
  "I do not know. Perhaps they hope to isolate the keeps, to rid the planet
of men. Perhaps they merely want secure avenues between the forests."
   Lord Faide considered. Huss's final suggestion was reasonable enough.
During the first centuries of human settlement, sportive young men had
hunted the First Folk with clubs and lances, eventually had driven them
from their native downs into the forests. "Evidently they are more clever
than we realize. Adam McAdam asserts that they do not think, but it
seems that he is mistaken."
   Hein Huss shrugged. "Adam McAdam equates thought to the human
cerebral process. He cannot telepathize with the First Folk, hence he
deduces that they do not 'think.' But I have watched them at Forest
Market, and they trade intelligently enough." He raised his head, appeared
to listen, then reached into his cabinet and delicately tightened a noose
around the neck of one of the manikins. From outside the tent came a
sudden cough and a whooping gasp for air. Huss grinned, twitched open
the noose. "That is Isak Comandore's apprentice. He hopes to complete a
Hein Huss manikin. I must say he works diligently, going so far as to
touch its feet into my footprints whenever possible."
 Lord Faide went to the flap of the tent. "We break camp early. Be alert, I
may require your help." He departed the tent.



   Hein Huss continued the ordering of his cabinet. Presently he sensed
the approach of his rival, Jinxman Isak Comandore, who coveted the office
of Head Jinxman with all-consuming passion. Huss closed the cabinet and
hoisted himself to his feet.
   Comandore entered the tent, a man tall, crooked, and spindly. His
wedge-shaped head was covered with coarse russet ringlets; hot
red-brown eyes peered from under his red eyebrows. "I offer my complete
rights to Keyril, and will include the masks, the headdress, the amulets. Of
all the demons ever contrived he has won the widest public acceptance. To
utter the name Keyril is to complete half the work of a possession. Keyril is
a valuable property. I can give no more."
   But Huss shook his head. Comandore's desire was the full simulacrum
of Tharon Faide, Lord Faide's oldest son, complete with clothes, hair, skin,
eyelashes, tears, excrement, sweat and sputum—the only one in existence,
for Lord Faide guarded his son much more jealously than he did himself.
"You offer convincingly," said Huss, "but my own demons suffice. The
name Dant conveys fully as much terror as Keyril."
  "I will add five hairs from the head of Jinxman Clarence Sears; they are
the last, for he is now stark bald."
  "Let us drop the matter; I will keep the simulacrum."
   "As you please," said Comandore with asperity. He glanced out the flap
of the tent. "That blundering apprentice. He puts the feet of the manikin
backwards into your prints."
  Huss opened his cabinet, thumped a manikin with his finger. From
outside the tent came a grunt of surprise. Huss grinned. "He is young and
earnest, and perhaps he is clever, who knows?" He went to the flap of the
tent, called outside. "Hey, Sam Salazar, what do you do? Come inside."
   Apprentice Sam Salazar came blinking into the tent, a thickset youth
with a round florid face, overhung with a rather untidy mass of
straw-colored hair. In one hand he carried a crude pot-bellied manikin,
evidently intended to represent Hein Huss.
  "You puzzle both your master and myself," said Huss. "There must be
method in your folly, but we fail to perceive it. For instance, this moment
you place my simulacrum backwards into my track. I feel a tug on my foot,
and you pay for your clumsiness."
  Sam Salazar showed small evidence of abashment. "Jinxman
Comandore has warned that we must expect to suffer for our ambitions."
  "If your ambition is jinxmanship," Comandore declared sharply, "you
had best mend your ways."
   "The lad is craftier than you know," said Hein Huss. "Look now." He
took the manikin from the youth, spit into its mouth, plucked a hair front
his head, thrust it into a convenient crevice. "He has a Hein Huss manikin,
achieved at very small cost. Now, Apprentice Salazar, how will you hoodoo
me?"
 "Naturally, I would never dare. I merely want to fill the bare spaces in
my cabinet."
  Hein Huss nodded his approval. "As good a reason as any. Of course you
own a simulacrum of Isak Comandore?"
   Sam Salazar glanced uneasily at Isak Comandore. "He leaves none of his
traces. If there is so much as an open bottle in the room, he breathes
behind his hand."
  "Ridiculous!" exclaimed Hein Huss. "Comandore, what do you fear?"
  "I am conservative," said Comandore, dryly. "You make a fine gesture,
but some day an enemy may own that simulacrum; then you will regret
your bravado."
  "Bah. My enemies are all dead, save one or two who dare not reveal
themselves." He clapped Sam Salazar a great buffet on the shoulder.
"Tomorrow, Apprentice Salazar, great things are in store for you."
  "What manner of great things?"
   "Honor, noble self-sacrifice. Lord Faide must beg permission from the
First Folk to pass Wildwood, which galls him. But beg he must. Tomorrow,
Sam Salazar, I will elect you to lead the way to the parley, to deflect
deadfalls, scythes, and nettletraps from the more important person who
follows."
 Sam Salazar shook his head and drew back. "There must be others
more worthy; I prefer to ride in the rear with the wagons."
  Comandore waved him from the tent. "You will do as ordered. Leave us;
we have had enough apprentice talk."
  Sam Salazar departed. Comandore turned back to Hein Huss. "In
connection with tomorrow's battle, Anderson Grimes is especially adept
with demons. As I recall, he has developed and successfully publicized
Pont, who spreads sleep; Everid, a being of wrath; Deigne, a force of fear.
We must take care that in countering these effects we do not neutralize
each other."
   "True," rumbled Huss. "I have long maintained to Lord Faide that a
single jinxman—the Head Jinxman in fact—is more effective than a group
at cross-purposes. But he is consumed by ambition and does not listen."
  "Perhaps he wants to be sure that should advancing years overtake the
Head Jinxman other equally effective jinxmen are at hand."
  "The future has many paths," agreed Hein Huss. "Lord Faide is well
advised to seek early for my successor, so that I may train him over the
years. I plan to access all the subsidiary jinxmen, and select the most
promising. Tomorrow I relegate to you the demons of Anderson Grimes."
  Isak Comandore nodded politely. "You are wise to give over
responsibility. When I feel the weight of my years I hope I may act with
similar forethought. Good night, Hein Huss. I go to arrange my demon
masks. Tomorrow Keyril must walk like a giant."
  "Good night, Isak Comandore."



   Comandore swept from the tent, and Huss settled himself on his stool.
Sam Salazar scratched at the flap. "Well, lad?" growled Huss. "Why do you
loiter?"
   Sam Salazar placed the Hein Huss manikin on the table. "I have no wish
to keep this doll."
   "Throw it in a ditch, then." Hein Huss spoke gruffly. "You must stop
annoying me with stupid tricks. You efficiently obtrude yourself upon my
attention, but you cannot transfer from Comandore's troupe without his
express consent."
  "If I gain his consent?"
  "You will incur his enmity; he will open his cabinet against you. Unlike
myself, you are vulnerable to a hoodoo. I advise you to be content. Isak
Comandore is highly skilled and can teach you much."
   Sam Salazar still hesitated. "Jinxman Comandore, though skilled, is
intolerant of new thoughts."
   Hein Huss shifted ponderously on his stool, examined Sam Salazar with
his water-clear eyes. "What new thoughts are these? Your own?"
  "The thoughts are new to me, and for all I know new to Isak
Comandore. But he will say neither yes nor no."
  Hein Huss sighed, settled his monumental bulk more comfortably.
"Speak then, describe these thoughts, and I will assess their novelty."
   "First, I have wondered about trees. They are sensitive to light, to
moisture, to wind, to pressure. Sensitivity implies sensation. Might a man
feel into the soul of a tree for these sensations? If a tree were capable of
awareness, this faculty might prove useful. A man might select trees as
sentinels in strategic sites, and enter into them as he chose."
   Hein Huss was skeptical. "An amusing notion, but practically not
feasible. The reading of minds, the act of possession, televoyance, all
similar interplay, require psychic congruence as a basic condition. The
minds must be able to become identities at some particular stratum.
Unless there is sympathy, there is no linkage. A tree is at opposite poles
from a man; the images of tree and man are incommensurable. Hence,
anything more than the most trifling flicker of comprehension must be a
true miracle of jinxmanship."
   Sam Salazar nodded mournfully. "I realized this, and at one time hoped
to equip myself with the necessary identification."
  "To do this you must become a vegetable. Certainly the tree will never
become a man."
  "So I reasoned," said Sam Salazar. "I went alone into a grove of trees,
where I chose a tall conifer. I buried my feet in the mold, I stood silent and
naked—in the sunlight, in the rain; at dawn, noon, dusk, midnight. I
closed my mind to manthoughts, I closed my eyes to vision, my ears to
sound. I took no nourishment except from rain and sun. I sent roots forth
from my feet and branches from my torso. Thirty hours I stood, and two
days later another thirty hours, and after two days another thirty hours. I
made myself a tree, as nearly as possible to one of flesh and blood."
  Hein Huss gave the great inward gurgle that signalized his amusement.
"And you achieved sympathy?"
   "Nothing useful," Sam Salazar admitted. "I felt something of the tree's
sensations—the activity of light, the peace of dark, the coolness of rain.
But visual and auditory experience —nothing. However, I do not regret the
trial. It was a useful discipline."
   "An interesting effort, even if inconclusive. The idea is by no means of
startling originality, but the empiricism—to use an archaic word—of your
method is bold, and no doubt antagonized Isak Comandore, who has no
patience with the superstitions of our ancestors. I suspect that he
harangued you against frivolity, metaphysics, and inspirationalism."
  "True," said Sam Salazar. "He spoke at length."
   "You should take the lesson to heart. Isak Comandore is sometimes
unable to make the most obvious truth seem credible. However, I cite you
the example of Lord Faide who considers himself an enlightened man, free
from superstition. Still, he rides in his feeble car, he carries a pistol
sixteen hundred years old, he relies on Hellmouth to protect Faide Keep."
  "Perhaps—unconsciously—he longs for the old magical times,"
suggested Sam Salazar thoughtfully.
  "Perhaps," agreed Hein Huss. "And you do likewise?"
  Sam Salazar hesitated. "There is an aura of romance, a kind of wild
grandeur to the old days—but of course," he added quickly, "mysticism is
no substitute for orthodox logic."
   "Naturally not," agreed Hein Huss. "Now go; I must consider the events
of tomorrow."
  Sam Salazar departed, and Hein Huss, rumbling and groaning, hoisted
himself to his feet. He went to the flap of his tent, surveyed the camp. All
now was quiet. The fires were embers, the warriors lay in the pits they had
cut into the moss. To the north and south spread the woodlands. Among
the trees and out on the downs were faint flickering luminosities, where
the First Folk gathered spore-pods from the moss.
  Hein Huss became aware of a nearby personality. He turned his head
and saw approaching the shrouded form of Jinxman Enterlin, who
concealed his face, who spoke only in whispers, who disguised his natural
gait with a stiff stiltlike motion. By this means he hoped to reduce his
vulnerability to hostile jinxmanship. The admission carelessly let fall of
failing eyesight, of stiff joints, forgetfulness, melancholy, nausea might be
of critical significance in controversy by hoodoo. Jinxmen therefore
maintained the pose of absolute health and virility, even though they must
grope blindly or limp doubled up from cramps.
   Hein Huss called out to Enterlin, lifted back the flap to the tent.
Enterlin entered; Huss went to the cabinet, brought forth a flask, poured
liquor into a pair of stone cups. "A cordial only, free of overt significance."
   "Good," whispered Enterlin, selecting the cup farthest from him. "After
all, we jinxmen must relax into the guise of men from time to time."
Turning his back on Huss, he introduced the cup through the folds of his
hood, drank. "Refreshing," he whispered. "We need refreshment;
tomorrow we must work."
  Huss issued his reverberating chuckle. "Tomorrow Isak Comandore
matches demons with Anderson Grimes. We others perform only
subsidiary duties."
  Enterlin seemed to make a quizzical inspection of Hein Huss through
the black gauze before his eyes. "Comandore will relish this opportunity.
His vehemence oppresses me, and his is a power which feeds on success.
He is a man of fire, you are a man of ice."
  "Ice quenches fire."
  "Fire sometimes melts ice."
  Hein Huss shrugged. "No matter. I grow weary. Time has passed all of
us by. Only a moment ago a young apprentice showed me to myself."
   "As a powerful jinxman, as Head Jinxman to the Faides, you have cause
for pride."
  Hein Huss drained the stone cup, set it aside. "No. I see myself at the
top of my profession, with nowhere else to go. Only Sam Salazar the
apprentice thinks to search for more universal lore; he comes to me for
counsel, and I do not know what to tell him."
  "Strange talk, strange talk!" whispered Enterlin. He moved to the flap of
the tent. "I go now," he whispered. "I go to walk on the downs. Perhaps I
will see the future."
  "There are many futures."
  Enterlin rustled away and was lost in the dark. Hein Huss groaned and
grumbled, then took himself to his couch, where he instantly fell asleep.



                                     II

   The night passed. The sun, flickering with films of pink and green, lifted
over the horizon. The new planting of the First Folk was silhouetted, a
sparse stubble of saplings, against the green and lavender sky. The troops
broke camp with practiced efficiency. Lord Faide marched to his car,
leaped within; the machine sagged under his weight. He pushed a button,
the car drifted forward, heavy as a waterlogged timber.
  A mile from the new planting he halted, sent a messenger back to the
wagons of the jinxmen. Hein Huss walked ponderously forward, followed
by Isak Comandore, Adam McAdam, and Enterlin. Lord Faide spoke to
Hein Huss. "Send someone to speak to the First Folk. Inform them we
wish to pass, offering them no harm, but that we will react savagely to any
hostility."
   "I will go myself," said Hein Huss. He turned to Comandore, "Lend me,
if you will, your brash young apprentice. I can put him to good use."
   "If he unmasks a nettle trap by blundering into it, his first useful deed
will be done," said Comandore. He signaled to Sam Salazar, who came
reluctantly forward. "Walk in front of Head Jinxman Hein Huss that he
may encounter no traps or scythes. Take a staff to probe the moss."
   Without enthusiasm Sam Salazar borrowed a lance from one of the foot
soldiers. He and Huss set forth, along the low rise that previously had
separated North from South Wildwood. Occasionally outcroppings of
stone penetrated the cover of moss; here and there grew bayberry trees,
clumps of tarplant, ginger-tea, and rosewort.
   A half mile from the planting Huss halted. "Now take care, for here the
traps will begin. Walk clear of hummocks, these often conceal
swing-scythes; avoid moss which shows a pale blue; it is dying or sickly
and may cover a deadfall or a nettle trap."
   "Why cannot you locate the traps by clairvoyance?" asked Sam Salazar
in a rather sullen voice. "It appears an excellent occasion for the use of
these faculties."
  "The question is natural," said Hein Huss with composure. "However
you must know that when a jinxman's own profit or security is at stake his
emotions play tricks on him. I would see traps everywhere and would
never know whether clairvoyance or fear prompted me. In this case, that
lance is a more reliable instrument than my mind."
   Sam Salazar made a salute of understanding and set forth, with Hein
Huss stumping behind him. At first he prodded with care, uncovering two
traps, then advanced more jauntily; so swiftly indeed that Huss called out
in exasperation, "Caution, unless you court death!"
  Sam Salazar obligingly slowed his pace. "There are traps all around us,
but I detect the pattern, or so I believe."
  "Ah, ha, you do? Reveal it to me, if you will. I am only Head Jinxman,
and ignorant."
  "Notice. If we walk where the spore-pods have recently been harvested,
then we are secure."
  Hein Huss grunted. "Forward then. Why do you dally? We must do
battle at Ballant Keep today."
  Two hundred yards farther, Sam Salazar stopped short. "Go on, boy, go
on!" grumbled Hein Huss.
  "The savages threaten us. You can see them just inside the planting.
They hold tubes which they point toward us."
   Hein Huss peered, then raised his head and called out in the sibilant
language of the First Folk.
   A moment or two passed, then one of the creatures came forth, a naked
humanoid figure, ugly as a demonmask. Foam-sacs bulged under its arms,
orange-lipped foam-vents pointed forward. Its back was wrinkled and
loose, the skin serving as a bellows to blow air through the foam-sacs. The
fingers of the enormous hands ended in chisel-shaped blades, the head
was sheathed in chitin. Billion-faceted eyes swelled from either side of the
head, glowing like black opals, merging without definite limit into the
chitin. This was a representative of the original inhabitants of the planet,
who until the coming of man had inhabited the downs, burrowing in the
moss, protecting themselves behind masses of foam exuded from the
underarm sacs.
  The creature wandered close, halted. "I speak for Lord Faide of Faide
Keep," said Huss. "Your planting bars his way. He wishes that you guide
him through, so that his men do not damage the trees, or spring the traps
you have set against your enemies."
  "Men are our enemies," responded the autochthon. "You may spring as
many traps as you care to; that is their purpose." It backed away.
    "One moment," said Hein Huss sternly. "Lord Faide must pass. He goes
to battle Lord Ballant. He does not wish to battle the First Folk. Therefore
it is wise to guide him across the planting without hindrance."
  The creature considered a second or two. "I will guide him." He stalked
across the moss toward the war party.
   Behind followed Hein Huss and Sam Salazar. The autochthon, legs
articulated more flexibly than a man's, seemed to weave and wander,
occasionally pausing to study the ground ahead.
  "I am puzzled," Sam Salazar told Hein Huss. "I cannot understand the
creature's actions."
  "Small wonder," grunted Hein Huss. "He is one of the First Folk, you are
human. There is no basis for understanding."
  "I disagree," said Sam Salazar seriously.
  "Eh?" Hein Huss inspected the apprentice with vast disapproval. "You
engage in contention with me, Head Jinxman Hein Huss?"
  "Only in a limited sense," said Sam Salazar. "I see a basis for
understanding with the First Folk in our common ambition to survive."
  "A truism," grumbled Hein Huss. "Granting this community of interests
with the First Folk, what is your perplexity?"
  "The fact that it first refused, then agreed to conduct us across the
planting."
  Hein Huss nodded. "Evidently the information which intervened, that
we go to fight at Ballant Keep, occasioned the change."
  "This is clear," said Sam Salazar. "But think —"
  "You exhort me to think?" roared Hein Huss.
   "—here is one of the First Folk, apparently without distinction, who
makes an important decision instantly. Is he one of their leaders? Do they
live in anarchy?"
  "It is easy to put questions," Hein Huss said gruffly. "It is not as easy to
answer them."
  "In short —"
  "In short, I do not know. In any event, they are pleased to see us killing
one another."
                                    III

  The passage through the planting was made without incident. A mile to
the east the autochthon stepped aside and without formality returned to
the forest. The war party, which had been marching in single file,
regrouped into its usual formation. Lord Faide called Hein Huss and made
the unusual gesture of inviting him up into the seat beside him. The
ancient car dipped and sagged; the power-mechanism whined and
chattered. Lord Faide, in high good spirits, ignored the noise. "I feared
that we might be forced into a time-consuming wrangle. What of Lord
Ballant? Can you read his thoughts?"
  Hein Huss cast his mind forth. "Not clearly. He knows of our passage.
He is disturbed."
  Lord Faide laughed sardonically. "For excellent reason! Listen now, I
will explain the plan of battle so that all may coordinate their efforts."
  "Very well."
   "We approach in a wide line. Ballant's great weapon is of course
Volcano. A decoy must wear my armor and ride in the lead. The
yellow-haired apprentice is perhaps the most expendable member of the
party. In this way we will learn the potentialities of Volcano. Like our own
Hellmouth, it was built to repel vessels from space and cannot command
the ground immediately under the keep. Therefore we will advance in
dispersed formation, to regroup two hundred yards from the keep. At this
point the jinxmen will impel Lord Ballant forth from the keep. You no
doubt have made plans to this end."
  Hein Huss gruffly admitted that such was the case. Like other jinxmen,
he enjoyed the pose that his power sufficed for extemporaneous control of
any situation.
   Lord Faide was in no mood for niceties and pressed for further
information. Grudging each word, Hein Huss disclosed his arrangements.
"I have prepared certain influences to discomfit the Ballant defenders and
drive them forth. Jinxman Enterlin will sit at his cabinet, ready to
retaliate if Lord Ballant orders a spell against you. Anderson Grimes
undoubtedly will cast a demon—probably Everid—into the Ballant
warriors; in return, Jinxman Comandore will possess an equal or a greater
number of Faide warriors with the demon Keyril, who is even more ghastly
and horrifying."
  "Good. What more?"
  "There is need for no more, if your men fight well."
  "Can you see the future? How does today end?"
   "There are many futures. Certain jinxmen—Enterlin for
instance—profess to see the thread which leads through the maze; they are
seldom correct."
  "Call Enterlin here."
  Hein Huss rumbled his disapproval. "Unwise, if you desire victory over
Ballant Keep."
  Lord Faide inspected the massive jinxman from under his black
saturnine brows. "Why do you say this?"
  "If Enterlin foretells defeat, you will be dispirited and fight poorly. If he
predicts victory, you become overconfident and likewise fight poorly."
  Lord Faide made a petulant gesture. "The jinxmen are loud in their
boasts until the test is made. Then they always find reasons to retract, to
qualify."
   "Ha, ha!" barked Hein Huss. "You expect miracles, not honest
jinxmanship. I spit—" he spat. "I predict that the spittle will strike the
moss. The probabilities are high. But an insect might fly in the way. One
of the First Folk might raise through the moss. The chances are slight. In
the next instant there is only one future. A minute hence there are four
futures. Five minutes hence, twenty futures. A billion futures could not
express all the possibilities of tomorrow. Of these billion, certain are more
probable than others. It is true that these probable futures sometimes
send a delicate influence into the jinxman's brain. But unless he is
completely impersonal and disinterested, his own desires overwhelm this
influence. Enterlin is a strange man. He hides himself, he has no appetites.
Occasionally his auguries are exact. Nevertheless, I advise against
consulting him. You do better to rely on the practical and real vises of
jinxmanship."
  Lord Faide said nothing. The column had been marching along the
bottom of a low swale; the car had been sliding easily downslope. Now
they came to a rise, and the power-mechanism complained so vigorously
that Lord Faide was compelled to stop the car. He considered. "Once over
the crest we will be in view of Ballant Keep. Now we must disperse. Send
the least valuable man in your troupe forward— the apprentice who tested
out the moss. He must wear my helmet and corselet and ride in the car."
   Hein Huss alighted, returned to the wagons, and presently Sam Salazar
came forward. Lord Faide eyed the round, florid face with distaste. "Come
close," he said crisply. Sam Salazar obeyed. "You will now ride in my
place," said Lord Faide. "Notice carefully. This rod impels a forward
motion. This arm steers—to right, to left. To stop, return the rod to its
first position."
  Sam Salazar pointed to some of the other arms, toggles, switches, and
buttons. "What of these?"
  "They are never used."
  "And these dials, what is their meaning?"
  Lord Faide curled his lip, on the brink of one of his quick furies. "Since
their use is unimportant to me, it is twenty times unimportant to you.
Now. Put this cap on your head, and this helmet. See to it that you do not
sweat."
  Sam Salazar gingerly settled the magnificent black and green crest of
Faide on his head, with a cloth cap underneath.
  "Now this corselet."
  The corselet was constructed of green and black metal sequins, with a
pair of scarlet dragon-heads at either side of the breast.
   "Now the cloak." Lord Faide flung the black cloak over Sam Salazar's
shoulders. "Do not venture too close to Ballant Keep. Your purpose is to
attract the fire of Volcano. Maintain a lateral motion around the keep,
outside of dart range. If you are killed by a dart, the whole purpose of the
deception is thwarted."
  "You prefer me to be killed by Volcano?" inquired Sam Salazar.
  "No. I wish to preserve the car and the crest. These are relics of great
value. Evade destruction by all means possible. The ruse probably will
deceive no one; but if it does, and if it draws the fire of Volcano, I must
sacrifice the Faide car. Now—sit in my place."
  Sam Salazar climbed into the car, settled himself on the seat.
  "Sit straight," roared Lord Faide. "Hold your head up!
  You are simulating Lord Faide! You must not appear to slink!" Sam
Salazar heaved himself erect in the seat.
  "To simulate Lord Faide most effectively, I should walk among the
warriors, with someone else riding in the car."
  Lord Faide glared, then grinned sourly. "No matter. Do as I have
commanded."



                                    IV

   Sixteen hundred years before, with war raging through space, a group
of space captains, their home bases destroyed, had taken refuge on
Pangborn. To protect themselves against vengeful enemies, they built
great forts armed with weapons from the dismantled spaceships.
   The wars receded, Pangborn was forgotten. The newcomers drove the
First Folk into the forests, planted and harvested the river valleys. Ballant
Keep, like Faide Keep, Castle Cloud, Boghoten, and the rest, overlooked
one of these valleys. Four squat towers of a dense black substance
supported an enormous parasol roof, and were joined by walls two-thirds
as high as the towers. At the peak of the roof a cupola housed Volcano, the
weapon corresponding to Faide's Hellmouth.
   The Faide war party advancing over the rise found the great gates
already secure, the parapets between the towers thronged with bowmen.
According to Lord Faide's strategy, the war party advanced on a broad
front. At the center rode Sam Salazar, resplendent in Lord Faide's armor.
He made, however, small effort to simulate Lord Faide. Rather than sitting
proudly erect, he crouched at the side of the seat, the crest canted at an
angle. Lord Faide watched with disgust. Apprentice Salazar's reluctance to
be demolished was understandable; if his impersonation failed to convince
Lord Ballant, at least the Faide ancestral car might be spared. For a
certainty Volcano was being manned; the Ballant weapon-tender could be
seen in the cupola, and the snout protruded at a menacing angle.
  Apparently the tactic of dispersal, offering no single tempting target,
was effective. The Faide war party advanced quickly to a point two
hundred yards from the keep, below Volcano's effective field, without
drawing fire; first the knights, then the foot soldiers, then the rumbling
wagons of the magicians. The slow-moving Faide car was far
outdistanced; any doubt as to the nature of the ruse must now be
extinguished.
   Apprentice Salazar, disliking the isolation, and hoping to increase the
speed of the car, twisted one of the other switches, then another. From
under the floor came a thin screeching sound; the car quivered and began
to rise. Sam Salazar peered over the side, threw out a leg to jump. Lord
Faide ran forward, gesturing and shouting. Sam Salazar hastily drew back
his leg, returned the switches to their previous condition. The car dropped
like a rock. He snapped the switches up again, cushioning the fall.
  "Get out of that car!" roared Lord Faide. He snatched away the helmet,
dealt Sam Salazar a buffet which toppled him head over heels. "Out of the
armor; back to your duties!"
   Sam Salazar hurried to the jinxmen's wagons where he helped erect
Isak Comandore's black tent. Inside the tent a black carpet with red and
yellow patterns was laid; Comandore's cabinet, his chair, and his chest
were carried in, and incense set burning in a censer. Directly in front of
the main gate Hein Huss superintended the assembly of a rolling stage,
forty feet tall and sixty feet long, the surface concealed from Ballant Keep
by a tarpaulin.
  Meanwhile, Lord Faide had dispatched an emissary, enjoining Lord
Ballant to surrender. Lord Ballant delayed his response, hoping to delay
the attack as long as possible. If he could maintain himself a day and a
half, reinforcements from Gisborne Keep and Castle Cloud might force
Lord Faide to retreat.
  Lord Faide waited only until the jinxmen had completed their
preparations, then sent another messenger, offering two more minutes in
which to surrender.
 One minute passed, two minutes. The envoys turned on their heels,
marched back to the camp.
  Lord Faide spoke to Hein Huss. "You are prepared?"
  "I am prepared," rumbled Hein Huss.
  "Drive them forth."
   Huss raised his arm; the tarpaulin dropped from the face of his great
display, to reveal a painted representation of Ballant Keep.
   Huss retired to his tent, and pulled the flaps together. Braziers burnt
fiercely, illuminating the faces of Adam McAdam, eight cabalmen, and six
of the most advanced spellbinders. Each worked at a bench supporting
several dozen dolls and a small glowing brazier. The cabalmen and
spellbinders worked with dolls representing Ballant men-at-arms; Huss
and Adam McAdam employed simulacra of the Ballant knights. Lord
Ballant would not be hoodooed unless he ordered a jinx against Lord
Faide—a courtesy the keep-lords extended each other.
  Huss called out: "Sebastian!"
  Sebastian, one of Huss's spellbinders, waiting at the flap to the tent,
replied, "Ready, sir."
  "Begin the display."
  Sebastian ran to the stage, struck fire to a fuse. Watchers inside Ballant
Keep saw the depicted keep take fire. Flame erupted from the windows,
the roof glowed and crumbled. Inside the tent the two jinxmen, the
cabalmen, and the spellbinders methodically took dolls, dipped them into
the heat of the braziers, concentrating, reaching out for the mind of the
man whose doll they burnt. Within the keep men became uneasy. Many
began to imagine burning sensations, which became more severe as their
minds grew more sensitive to the idea of fire. Lord Ballant noted the
uneasiness. He signaled to his chief jinxman Anderson Grimes. "Begin the
counterspell."
  Down the front of the keep unrolled a display even larger than Hein
Huss's, depicting a hideous beast. It stood on four legs and was shown
picking up two men in a pair of hands, biting off their heads. Grimes's
cabalmen meanwhile took up dolls representing the Faide warriors,
inserted them into models of the depicted beast, and closed the hinged
jaws, all the while projecting ideas of fear and disgust. And the Faide
warriors, staring at the depicted monster, felt a sense of horror and
weakness.
  Inside Huss's tent the braziers reeked and dolls smoked. Eyes stared,
brows glistened. From time to time one of the workers gasped—signaling
the entry of his projection into an enemy mind. Within the keep warriors
began to mutter, to slap at burning skin, to eye each other fearfully, noting
each other's symptoms. Finally one cried out, and tore at his armor. "I
burn! The cursed witches burn me!" His pain aggravated the discomfort of
the others; there was a growing sound throughout the keep.
   Lord Ballant's oldest son, his mind penetrated by Hein Huss himself,
struck his shield with his mailed fist. "They burn me! They burn us all!
Better to fight than burn!"
  "Fight! Fight!" came the voices of the tormented men.
   Lord Ballant looked around at the twisted faces, some displaying
blisters, scaldmarks. "Our own spell terrifies them; wait yet a moment!" he
pleaded.
  His brother called hoarsely, "It is not your belly that Hein Huss toasts in
the flames, it is mine! We cannot win a battle of hoodoos; we must win a
battle of arms!"
  Lord Ballant cried desperately, "Wait, our own effects are working! They
will flee in terror; wait, wait!"
   His cousin tore off his corselet. "It's Hein Huss! I feel him! My leg's in
the fire, the devil laughs at me. Next my head, he says. Fight, or I go forth
to fight alone!"
   "Very well," said Lord Ballant in a fateful voice. "We go forth to fight.
First—the beast goes forth. Then we follow and smite them in their
terror."



   The gates to the keep swung suddenly wide. Out sprang what appeared
to be the depicted monster: legs moving, arms waving, eyes rolling, issuing
evil sounds. Normally the Faide warriors would have seen the monster for
what it was: a model carried on the backs of three horses. But their minds
had been influenced; they had been infected with horror; they drew back
with arms hanging flaccid. From behind the monster the Ballant knights
galloped, followed by the Ballant foot soldiers. The charge gathered
momentum, tore into the Faide center. Lord Faide bellowed orders;
discipline asserted itself. The Faide knights disengaged, divided into three
platoons, and engulfed the Ballant charge, while the foot soldiers poured
darts into the advancing ranks.
   There was the clatter and surge of battle; Lord Ballant, seeing that his
sally had failed to overwhelm the Faide forces, and thinking to conserve
his own forces, ordered a retreat. In good order the Ballant warriors began
to back up toward the keep. The Faide knights held close contact, hoping
to win to the courtyard. Close behind came a heavily loaded wagon pushed
by armored horses, to be wedged against the gate.
   Lord Faide called an order; a reserve platoon of ten knights charged
from the side, thrust behind the main body of Ballant horsemen, rode
through the footsoldiers, fought into the keep, cut down the gate-tenders.
  Lord Ballant bellowed to Anderson Grimes, "They have won inside;
quick with your cursed demon! If he can help us, let him do so now!"
   "Demon-possession is not a matter of an instant," muttered the
jinxman. "I need time."
  "You have no time! Ten minutes and we're all dead!"
  "I will do my best. Everid, Everid, come swift!"
   He hastened into his workroom, donned his demonmask, tossed handful
after handful of incense into the brazier. Against one wall stood a great
form: black, slit-eyed, noseless. Great white fangs hung from its upper
palate; it stood on heavy bent legs, arms reached forward to grasp.
Anderson Grimes swallowed a cup of syrup, paced slowly back and forth. A
moment passed.
  "Grimes!" came Ballant's call from outside. "Grimes!"
  A voice spoke. "Enter without fear."
  Lord Ballant, carrying his ancestral side arm, entered. He drew back
with an involuntary sound. "Grimes!" he whispered.
  "Grimes is not here," said the voice. "I am here. Enter."
  Lord Ballant came forward stiff-legged. The room was dark except for
the feeble glimmer of the brazier. Anderson Grimes crouched in a corner,
head bowed under his demon-mask. The shadows twisted and pulsed with
shapes and faces, forms struggling to become solid. The black image
seemed to vibrate with life.
  "Bring in your warriors," said the voice. "Bring them in five at a time,
bid them look only at the floor until commanded to raise their eyes."
  Lord Ballant retreated; there was no sound in the room.
  A moment passed; then five limp and exhausted warriors filed into the
room, eyes low.
  "Look slowly up," said the voice. "Look at the orange fire. Breathe
deeply. Then look at me. I am Everid, Demon of Hate. Look at me. Who
am I?"
  "You are Everid, Demon of Hate," quavered the warriors.
   "I stand all around you, in a dozen forms. ... I come closer. Where am
I?"
  "You are close."
  "Now I am you. We are together."
  There was a sudden quiver of motion. The warriors stood straighter,
their faces distorted.
  "Go forth," said the voice. "Go quietly into the court. In a few minutes
we march forth to slay."
  The five stalked forth. Five more entered.
  Outside the wall the Ballant knights had retreated as far as the gate;
within, seven Faide knights still survived, and with their backs to the wall
held the Ballant warriors away from the gate mechanism.
   In the Faide camp Huss called to Comandore, "Everid is walking. Bring
forth Keyril."
 "Send the men," came Comandore's voice, low and harsh. "Send the
men to me. I am Keyril."
  Within the keep twenty warriors came marching into the courtyard.
Their steps were cautious, tentative, slow. Their faces had lost
individuality, they were twisted and distorted, curiously alike.
  "Bewitched!" whispered the Ballant soldiers, drawing back. The seven
Faide knights watched with sudden fright. But the twenty warriors, paying
them no heed, marched out the gate.
   The Ballant knights parted; for an instant there was a lull in the
fighting. The twenty sprang like tigers. Their swords glistened, twinkling
in water-bright arcs. They crouched, jerked, jumped; Faide arms, legs,
heads were hewed off. The twenty were cut and battered, but the blows
seemed to have no effect.
  The Faide attack faltered, collapsed. The knights, whose armor was no
protection against the demoniac swords, retreated. The twenty possessed
warriors raced out into the open toward the foot soldiers, running with
great strides, slashing and rending. The Faide foot soldiers fought for a
moment, then they too gave way and turned to flee.
  From behind Comandore's tent appeared thirty Faide warriors,
marching stiffly, slowly. Like the Ballant twenty their faces were alike—but
between the Everid-possessed and the Keyril-possessed was the difference
between the face of Everid and the face of Keyril.
   Keyril and Everid fought, using the men as weapons, without fear,
retreat, or mercy. Hack, chop, cut. Arms, legs, sundered torsos. Bodies
fought headless for moments before collapsing. Only when a body was
minced, hacked to bits, did the demoniac vitality depart. Presently there
were no more men of Everid, and only fifteen men of Keyril. These hopped
and limped and tumbled toward the keep where Faide knights still held
the gate. The Ballant knights met them in despair, knowing that now was
the decisive moment. Leaping, leering from chopped faces, slashing from
tireless arms, the warriors cut a hole into the iron. The Faide knights,
roaring victory cries, plunged after. Into the courtyard surged the battle,
and now there was no longer doubt of the outcome. Ballant Keep was
taken.
  Back in his tent Isak Comandore took a deep breath, shuddered, flung
down his demonmask. In the courtyard the twelve remaining warriors
dropped in their tracks, twitched, gasped, gushed blood and died.
  Lord Ballant, in the last gallant act of a gallant life, marched forth
brandishing his ancestral side arm. He aimed across the bloody field at
Lord Faide, pulled the trigger. The weapon spewed a brief gout of light;
Lord Faide's skin prickled and hair rose from his head. The weapon
crackled, turned cherry red and melted. Lord Ballant threw down the
weapon, drew his sword, marched forth to challenge Lord Faide.
   Lord Faide, disinclined to unnecessary combat, signaled his soldiers. A
flight of darts ended Lord Ballant's life, saving him the discomfort of
formal execution.
  There was no further resistance. The Ballant defenders threw down
their arms and marched grimly out to kneel before Lord Faide, while
inside the keep the Ballant women gave themselves to mourning and grief.



                                      V

   Lord Faide had no wish to linger at Ballant Keep, for he took no relish in
his victories. Inevitably, a thousand decisions had to be made. Six of the
closest Ballant kinsmen were summarily stabbed and the title declared
defunct. Others of the clan were offered a choice: an oath of lifelong fealty
together with a moderate ransom, or death. Only two, eyes blazing hate,
chose death and were instantly stabbed.
   Lord Faide had now achieved his ambition. For over a thousand years
the keep-lords had struggled for power; now one, now another gaining
ascendancy. None before had ever extended his authority across the entire
continent— which meant control of the planet, since all other land was
either sun-parched rock or eternal ice. Ballant Keep had long thwarted
Lord Faide's drive to power; now—success, total and absolute. It still
remained to chastise the lords of Castle Cloud and Gisborne, both of
whom, seeing opportunity to overwhelm Lord Faide, had ranged
themselves behind Lord Ballant. But these were matters that might well be
assigned to Hein Huss.
  Lord Faide, for the first time in his life, felt a trace of uncertainty. Now
what? No real adversaries remained. The First Folk must be whipped
back, but here was no great problem; they were numerous, but no more
than savages.
  He knew that dissatisfaction and controversy would ultimately arise
among his kinsmen and allies. Inaction and boredom would breed
irritability; idle minds would calculate the pros and cons of mischief. Even
the most loyal would remember the campaigns with nostalgia and long for
the excitement, the release, the license, of warfare. Somehow he must find
means to absorb the energy of so many active and keyed-up men. How and
where, this was the problem. The construction of roads? New farmland
claimed from the downs? Yearly tournaments-at-arms? Lord Faide
frowned at the inadequacy of his solutions, but his imagination was
impoverished by the lack of tradition. The original settlers of Pangborn
had been warriors, and had brought with them a certain amount of
practical rule-of-thumb knowledge, but little else. The tales they passed
down the generations described the great spaceships which moved with
magic speed and certainty, the miraculous weapons, the wars in the void,
but told nothing of human history or civilized achievement. And so Lord
Faide, full of power and success, but with no goal toward which to turn his
strength, felt more morose and saturnine than ever.
   He gloomily inspected the spoils from Ballant Keep. They were of no
great interest to him. Ballant's ancestral car was no longer used, but
displayed behind a glass case. He inspected the weapon Volcano, but this
could not be moved. In any event it was useless, its magic lost forever.
Lord Faide now knew that Lord Ballant had ordered it turned against the
Faide car, but that it had refused to spew its vaunted fire. Lord Faide saw
with disdainful amusement that Volcano had been sadly neglected.
Corrosion had pitted the metal, careless cleaning had twisted the exterior
tubing, undoubtedly diminishing the potency of the magic. No such
neglect at Faide Keep! Jambart the weapon-tender cherished Hellmouth
with absolute devotion. Elsewhere were other ancient devices, interesting
but useless—the same sort of curios that cluttered shelves and cases at
Faide Keep. (Peculiar, these ancient men! thought Lord Faide: at once so
clever, yet so primitive and impractical. Conditions had changed; there
had been enormous advances since the dark ages sixteen hundred years
ago. For instance, the ancients had used intricate fetishes of metal and
glass to communicate with each other. Lord Faide need merely voice his
needs; Hein Huss could project his mind a hundred miles to see, to hear,
to relay Lord Faide's words.) The ancients had contrived dozens of such
objects, but the old magic had worn away and they never seemed to
function. Lord Ballant's side arm had melted, after merely stinging Lord
Faide. Imagine a troop armed thus trying to cope with a platoon of
demon-possessed warriors! Slaughter of the innocents!



  Among the Ballant trove Lord Faide noted a dozen old books and several
reels of microfilm. The books were worthless, page after page of
incomprehensible jargon; the microfilm was equally undecipherable.
Again Lord Faide wondered skeptically about the ancients. Clever of
course, but to look at the hard facts, they were little more advanced than
the First Folk: neither had facility with telepathy or voyance or
demon-command. And the magic of the ancients: might there not be a
great deal of exaggeration in the legends? Volcano, for instance. A joke.
Lord Faide wondered about his own Hellmouth. But no—surely Hellmouth
was more trustworthy; Jambart cleaned and polished the weapon daily
and washed the entire cupola with vintage wine every month. If human
care could induce faithfulness, then Hellmouth was ready to defend Faide
Keep!
   Now there was no longer need for defense. Faide was supreme.
Considering the future, Lord Faide made a decision. There should no
longer be keep-lords on Pangborn; he would abolish the appellation.
Habitancy of the keeps would gradually be transferred to trusted bailiffs
on a yearly basis. The former lords would be moved to comfortable but
indefensible manor houses, with the maintenance of private troops
forbidden. Naturally they must be allowed jinxmen, but these would be
made accountable to himself—perhaps through some sort of licensing
provision. He must discuss the matter with Hein Huss. A matter for the
future, however. Now he merely wished to settle affairs and return to
Faide Keep.
   There was little more to be done. The surviving Ballant kinsmen he sent
to their homes after Hein Huss had impregnated fresh dolls with their
essences. Should they default on their ransoms, a twinge of fire, a few
stomach cramps would more than set them right. Ballant Keep itself Lord
Faide would have liked to burn—but the material of the ancients was proof
to fire. But in order to discourage any new pretenders to the Ballant
heritage Lord Faide ordered all the heirlooms and relics brought forth into
the courtyard, and then, one at a time, in order of rank, he bade his men
choose. Thus the Ballant wealth was distributed. Even the jinxmen were
invited to choose, but they despised the ancient trinkets as works of
witless superstition. The lesser spellbinders and apprentices rummaged
through the leavings, occasionally finding an overlooked bauble or some
anomalous implement. Isak Comandore was irritated to find Sam Salazar
staggering under a load of the ancient books. "And what is your purpose
with these?" he barked. "Why do you burden yourself with rubbish?"
  Sam Salazar hung his head. "I have no definite purpose. Undoubtedly
there was wisdom—or at least knowledge—among the ancients; perhaps I
can use these symbols of knowledge to sharpen my own understanding."
   Comandore threw up his hands in disgust. He turned to Hein Huss who
stood nearby. "First he fancies himself a tree and stands in the mud; now
he thinks to learn jinxmanship through a study of ancient symbols."
  Huss shrugged. "They were men like ourselves, and, though limited,
they were not entirely obtuse. A certain simian cleverness is required to
fabricate these objects."
    "Simian cleverness is no substitute for sound jinxmanship," retorted
Isak Comandore. "This is a point hard to overemphasize; I have drummed
it into Salazar's head a hundred times. And now, look at him."
  Huss grunted noncommittally. "I fail to understand what he hopes to
achieve."
  Sam Salazar tried to explain, fumbling for words to express an idea that
did not exist. "I thought perhaps to decipher the writing, if only to
understand what the ancients thought, and perhaps to learn how to
perform one or two of their tricks."
  Comandore rolled up his eyes. "What enemy bewitched me when I
consented to take you as apprentice? I can cast twenty hoodoos in an
hour, more than any of the ancients could achieve in a lifetime."
  "Nevertheless," said Sam Salazar, "I notice that Lord Faide rides in his
ancestral car, and that Lord Ballant sought to kill us all with Volcano."
  "I notice," said Comandore with feral softness, "that my demon Keyril
conquered Lord Ballant's Volcano, and that riding on my wagon I can
outdistance Lord Faide in his car."
  Sam Salazar thought better of arguing further. "True, Jinxman
Comandore, very true. I stand corrected."
  "Then discard that rubbish and make yourself useful. We return to
Faide Keep in the morning."
   "As you wish, Jinxman Comandore." Sam Salazar threw the books back
into the trash.



                                    VI

  The Ballant clan had been dispersed, Ballant Keep was despoiled. Lord
Faide and his men banqueted somberly in the great hall, tended by silent
Ballant servitors.
   Ballant Keep had been built on the same splendid scale as Faide Keep.
The great hall was a hundred feet long, fifty feet wide, fifty feet high,
paneled in planks sawn from pale native hardwood, rubbed and waxed to
a rich honey color. Enormous black beams supported the ceiling; from
these hung candelabra, intricate contrivances of green, purple, and blue
glass, knotted with ancient but still bright light-motes. On the far wall
hung portraits of all the lords of Ballant Keep—105 grave faces in a variety
of costumes. Below, a genealogical chart ten feet high detailed the descent
of the Ballants and their connections with the other noble clans. Now
there was a desolate air to the hall, and the 105 dead faces were
meaningless and empty.
   Lord Faide dined without joy, and cast dour side glances at those of his
kinsmen who reveled too gladly. Lord Ballant, he thought, had conducted
himself only as he himself might have done under the same
circumstances; coarse exultation seemed in poor taste, almost as if it were
disrespect for Lord Faide himself. His followers were quick to catch his
mood, and the banquet proceeded with greater decorum. The jinxmen sat
apart in a smaller room to the side. Anderson Grimes, erstwhile Ballant
Head Jinxman, sat beside Hein Huss, trying to put a good face on his
defeat. After all, he had performed creditably against four powerful
adversaries, and there was no cause to feel a diminution of mana. The five
jinxmen discussed the battle, while the cabalmen and spellbinders listened
respectfully. The conduct of the demon-possessed troops occasioned the
most discussion. Anderson Grimes readily admitted that his conception of
Everid was a force absolutely brutal and blunt, terrifying in its
indomitable vigor. The other jinxmen agreed that he undoubtedly
succeeded in projecting these qualities; Hein Huss however pointed out
that Isak Comandore's Keyril, as cruel and vigorous as Everid, also
combined a measure of crafty malice, which tended to make the possessed
soldier a more effective weapon.
   Anderson Grimes allowed that this might well be the case, and that in
fact he had been considering such an augmentation of Everid's
characteristics.
  "To my mind," said Huss, "the most effective demon should be swift
enough to avoid the strokes of the brute demons, such as Keyril and
Everid. I cite my own Dant as example. A Dant-possessed warrior can
easily destroy a Keyril or an Everid, simply through his agility. In an
encounter of this sort the Keyrils and Everids presently lose their capacity
to terrify, and thus half the effect is lost."
  Isak Comandore pierced Huss with a hot russet glance. "You state a
presumption as if it were fact. I have formulated Keyril with sufficient
craft to counter any such displays of speed. I firmly believe Keyril to be the
most fearsome of all demons."
   "It may well be," rumbled Hein Huss thoughtfully. He beckoned to a
steward, gave instructions. The steward reduced the light a trifle.
"Behold," said Hein Huss. "There is Dant. He comes to join the banquet."
To the side of the room loomed the tiger-striped Dant, a creature
constructed of resilient metal, with four terrible arms, and a squat black
head which seemed all gaping jaw.
  "Look," came the husky voice of Isak Comandore. "There is Keyril."
Keyril was rather more humanoid and armed with a cutlass. Dant spied
Keyril. The jaws gaped wider, it sprang to the attack.
   The battle was a thing of horror; the two demons rolled, twisted, bit,
frothed, uttered soundless shrieks, tore each other apart. Suddenly Dant
sprang away, circled Keyril with dizzying speed, faster, faster; became a
blur, a wild coruscation of colors that seemed to give off a high-pitched
wailing sound, rising higher and higher in pitch. Keyril hacked brutally
with his cutlass, then seemed to grow feeble and wan. The light that once
had been Dant blazed white, exploded in a mental shriek; Keyril was gone
and Isak Comandore lay moaning.
  Hein Huss drew a deep breath, wiped his face, looked about him with a
complacent grin. The entire company sat rigid as stones, staring, all
except the apprentice Sam Salazar, who met Hein Huss's glance with a
cheerful smile.
   "So," growled Huss, panting from his exertion, "you consider yourself
superior to the illusion; you sit and smirk at one of Hein Huss's best
efforts."
  "No, no," cried Sam Salazar, "I mean no disrespect! I want to learn, so I
watched you rather than the demons. What could they teach me?
Nothing!"
  "Ah," said Huss, mollified. "And what did you learn?"
   "Likewise, nothing," said Sam Salazar, "but at least I do not sit like a
fish."
  Comandore's voice came soft but crackling with wrath. "You see in me
the resemblance to a fish?"
  "I except you, Jinxman Comandore, naturally," Sam Salazar explained.
   "Please go to my cabinet, Apprentice Salazar, and fetch me the doll that
is your likeness. The steward will bring a basin of water, and we shall have
some sport. With your knowledge of fish you perhaps can breathe under
water. If not— you may suffocate."
  "I prefer not, Jinxman Comandore," said Sam Salazar. "In fact, with
your permission, I now resign your service."
  Comandore motioned to one of his cabalmen. "Fetch me the Salazar
doll. Since he is no longer my apprentice, it is likely indeed that he will
suffocate."
   "Come now, Comandore," said Hein Huss gruffly. "Do not torment the
lad. He is innocent and a trifle addled. Let this be an occasion of placidity
and ease."
   "Certainly, Hein Huss," said Comandore. "Why not? There is ample
time in which to discipline this upstart."
   "Jinxman Huss," said Sam Salazar, "since I am now relieved of my
duties to Jinxman Comandore, perhaps you will accept me into your
service."
   Hein Huss made a noise of vast distaste. "You are not my
responsibility."
   "There are many futures, Hein Huss," said Sam Salazar. "You have said
as much yourself."
   Hein Huss looked at Sam Salazar with his water-clear eyes. "Yes, there
are many futures. And I think that tonight sees the full amplitude of
jinxmanship. ... I think that never again will such power and skill gather at
the same table. We shall die one by one and there shall be none to fill our
shoes. . . . Yes, Sam Salazar. I will take you as apprentice. Isak Comandore,
do you hear? This youth is now of my company."
  "I must be compensated," growled Comandore.
   "You have coveted my doll of Tharon Faide, the only one in existence. It
is yours."
  "Ah, ha!" cried Isak Comandore leaping to his feet. "Hein Huss, I salute
you! You are generous indeed! I thank you and accept!"
   Hein Huss motioned to Sam Salazar. "Move your effects to my wagon.
Do not show your face again tonight." Sam Salazar bowed with dignity
and departed the hall. The banquet continued, but now something of
melancholy filled the room. Presently a messenger from Lord Faide came
to warn all to bed, for the party returned to Faide Keep at dawn.
                                  VII

   The victorious Faide troops gathered on the heath before Ballant Keep.
As a parting gesture Lord Faide ordered the great gate torn off the hinges,
so that ingress could never again be denied him. But even after sixteen
hundred years the hinges were proof to all the force the horses could
muster, and the gates remained in place.
   Lord Faide accepted the fact with good grace and bade farewell to his
cousin Renfroy, whom he had appointed bailiff. He climbed into his car,
settled himself, snapped the switch. The car groaned and moved forward.
Behind came the knights and the foot soldiers, then the baggage train,
laden with booty, and finally the wagons of the jinxmen.
   Three hours the column marched across the mossy downs. Ballant Keep
dwindled behind; ahead appeared North and South Wildwood, darkening
all the sweep of the western horizon. Where once the break had existed,
the First Folk's new planting showed a smudge lower and less intense than
the old woodlands.
   Two miles from the woodlands Lord Faide called a halt and signaled up
his knights. Hein Huss laboriously dismounted from his wagon, came
forward.
  "In the event of resistance," Lord Faide told the knights, "do not be
tempted into the forest. Stay with the column and at all times be on your
guard against traps."
 Hein Huss spoke. "You wish me to parley with the First Folk once
more?"
   "No," said Lord Faide. "It is ridiculous that I must ask permission of
savages to ride over my own land. We return as we came; if they interfere,
so much the worse for them."
  "You are rash," said Huss with simple candor.
  Lord Faide glanced down at him with black eyebrows raised. "What
damage can they do if we avoid their traps? Blow foam at us?"
  "It is not my place to advise or to warn," said Hein Huss. "However, I
point out that they exhibit a confidence which does not come from
conscious weakness; also, that they carried tubes, apparently hollow
grasswood shoots, which imply missiles."
    Lord Faide nodded. "No doubt. However, the knights wear armor, the
soldiers carry bucklers. It is not fit that I, Lord Faide of Faide Keep, choose
my path to suit the whims of the First Folk. This must be made clear, even
if the exercise involves a dozen or so First Folk corpses."
   "Since I am not a fighting man," remarked Hein Huss, "I will keep well
to the rear, and pass only when the way is secure."
  "As you wish." Lord Faide pulled down the visor of his helmet.
"Forward."



  The column moved toward the forest, along the previous track, which
showed plain across the moss. Lord Faide rode in the lead, flanked by his
brother, Gethwin Faide, and his cousin, Mauve Dermont-Faide.
  A half mile passed, and another. The forest was only a mile distant.
Overhead the great sun rode at zenith; brightness and heat poured down;
the air carried the oily scent of thorn and tarbush. The column moved on,
more slowly; the only sound the clanking of armor, the muffled thud of
hooves in the moss, the squeal of wagon wheels.
  Lord Faide rose up in his car, watching for any sign of hostile
preparation. A half mile from the planting the forms of the First Folk,
waiting in the shade along the forest's verge, became visible. Lord Faide
ignored them, held a steady pace along the track they had traveled before.
   The half-mile became a quarter-mile. Lord Faide turned to order the
troops into single file and was just in time to see a hole suddenly open into
the moss and his brother, Gethwin Faide, drop from sight. There was a
rattle, a thud, the howling of the impaled horse; Gethwin's wild calls as the
horse kicked and crushed him into the stakes. Mauve Dermont-Faide,
riding beside Gethwin, could not control his own horse, which leaped
aside from the pit and blundered upon a trigger. Up from the moss burst a
tree trunk studded with foot-long thorns. It snapped, quick as a scorpion's
tail; the thorns punctured Mauve Dermont-Faide's armor, his chest, and
whisked him from his horse to carry him suspended, writhing and
screaming. The tip of the scythe pounded into Lord Faide's car, splintered
against the hull. The car swung groaning through the air. Lord Faide
clutched at the windscreen to prevent himself from falling.
  The column halted; several men ran to the pit, but Gethwin Faide lay
twenty feet below, crushed under his horse. Others took Mauve
Dermont-Faide down from the swaying scythe, but he, too, was dead.
  Lord Faide's skin tingled with a gooseflesh of hate and rage. He looked
toward the forest. The First Folk stood motionless. He beckoned to
Bernard, sergeant of the foot soldiers. "Two men with lances to try out the
ground ahead. All others ready with darts. At my signal spit the devils."
   Two men came forward, and marching before Lord Faide's car, probed
at the ground. Lord Faide settled in his seat. "Forward."
  The column moved slowly toward the forest, every man tense and ready.
The lances of the two men in the vanguard presently broke through the
moss, to disclose a nettle trap— a pit lined with nettles, each frond ripe
with globes of acid. Carefully they probed out a path to the side, and the
column filed around, each man walking in the other's tracks.
   At Lord Faide's side now rode his two nephews, Scolford and Edwin.
"Notice," said Lord Faide in a voice harsh and tight. "These traps were
laid since our last passage; an act of malice."
  "But why did they guide us through before?"
  Lord Faide smiled bitterly. "They were willing that we should die at
Ballant Keep. But we have disappointed them."
  "Notice, they carry tubes," said Scolford.
  "Blowguns possibly," suggested Edwin.
  Scolford disagreed. "They cannot blow through their foam-vents."
  "No doubt we shall soon learn," said Lord Faide. He rose in his seat,
called to the rear. "Ready with the darts!"
  The soldiers raised their crossbows. The column advanced slowly, now
only a hundred yards from the planting. The white shapes of the First Folk
moved uneasily at the forest's edges. Several of them raised their tubes,
seemed to sight along the length. They twitched their great hands.
   One of the tubes was pointed toward Lord Faide. He saw a small black
object leave the opening, flit forward, gathering speed. He heard a hum,
waxing to a rasping, clicking flutter. He ducked behind the windscreen;
the projectile swooped in pursuit, struck the windscreen like a thrown
stone. It fell crippled upon the forward deck of the car—a heavy black
insect like a wasp, its broken proboscis oozing ocher liquid, horny wings
beating feebly, eyes like dumbbells fixed on Lord Faide. With his mailed
fist, he crushed the creature.
  Behind him other wasps struck knights and men; Corex Faide-Battaro
took the prong through his visor into the eye, but the armor of the other
knights defeated the wasps. The foot soldiers, however, lacked protection;
the wasps half buried themselves in flesh. The soldiers called out in pain,
clawed away the wasps, squeezed the wounds. Corex Faide-Battaro
toppled from his horse, ran blindly out over the heath, and after fifty feet
fell into a trap. The stricken soldiers began to twitch, then fell on the moss,
thrashed, leaped up to run with flapping arms, threw themselves in wild
somersaults, forward, backward, foaming and thrashing.
  In the forest, the First Folk raised their tubes again. Lord Faide
bellowed, "Spit the creatures! Bowmen, launch your darts!"
  There came the twang of crossbows, darts snapped at the quiet white
shapes. A few staggered and wandered aimlessly away; most, however,
plucked out the darts or ignored them. They took capsules from small
sacks, put them to the end of their tubes.
  "Beware the wasps!" cried Lord Faide. "Strike with your bucklers! Kill
the cursed things in flight!"
  The rasp of horny wings came again; certain of the soldiers found
courage enough to follow Lord Faide's orders, and battered down the
wasps. Others struck home as before; behind came another flight. The
column became a tangle of struggling, crouching men.
   "Footmen, retreat!" called Lord Faide furiously. "Footmen back! Knights
to me!"
  The soldiers fled back along the track, taking refuge behind the baggage
wagons. Thirty of their number lay dying, or dead, on the moss.
   Lord Faide cried out to his knights in a voice like a bugle. "Dismount,
follow slow after me! Turn your helmets, keep the wasps from your eyes!
One step at a time, behind the car! Edwin, into the car beside me, test the
footing with your lance. Once in the forest there are no traps! Then
attack!"
   The knights formed themselves into a line behind the car. Lord Faide
drove slowly forward, his kinsman Edwin prodding the ground ahead. The
First Folk sent out a dozen more wasps, which dashed themselves vainly
against the armor. Then there was silence . . . cessation of sound, activity.
The First Folk watched impassively as the knights approached, step by
step.
   Edwin's lance found a trap, the column moved to the side. Another
trap—and the column was diverted from the planting toward the forest.
Step by step, yard by yard—another trap, another detour, and now the
column was only a hundred feet from the forest. A trap to the left, a trap
to the right: the safe path led directly toward an enormous
heavy-branched tree. Seventy feet, fifty feet, then Lord Faide drew his
sword.
  "Prepare to charge, kill till your arms tire!"
   From the forest came a crackling sound. The branches of the great tree
trembled and swayed. The knights stared, for a moment frozen into place.
The tree toppled forward, the knights madly tried to flee—to the rear, to
the sides. Traps opened; the knights dropped upon sharp stakes. The tree
fell; boughs cracked armored bodies like nuts; there was the hoarse yelling
of pinned men, screams from the traps, the crackling subsidence of
breaking branches. Lord Faide had been battered down into the car, and
the car had been pressed groaning into the moss. His first instinctive act
was to press the switch to rest position; then he staggered erect,
clambered up through the boughs. A pale unhuman face peered at him; he
swung his fist, crushed the faceted eye-bulge, and roaring with rage
scrambled through the branches. Others of his knights were working
themselves free, although almost a third were either crushed or impaled.
  The First Folk came scrambling forward, armed with enormous thorns,
long as swords. But now Lord Faide could reach them at close quarters.
Hissing with vindictive joy he sprang into their midst, swinging his sword
with both hands, as if demon-possessed. The surviving knights joined him
and the ground became littered with dismembered First Folk. They drew
back slowly, without excitement. Lord Faide reluctantly called back his
knights. "We must succor those still pinned, as many as still are alive."
   As well as possible branches were cut away, injured knights drawn
forth. In some cases the soft moss had cushioned the impact of the tree.
Six knights were dead, another four crushed beyond hope of recovery. To
these Lord Faide himself gave the coup de grace. Ten minutes further
hacking and chopping freed Lord Faide's car, while the First Folk watched
incuriously from the forest. The knights wished to charge once more, but
Lord Faide ordered retreat. Without interference they returned the way
they had come, back to the baggage train.



   Lord Faide ordered a muster. Of the original war party, less than
two-thirds remained. Lord Faide shook his head bitterly. Galling to think
how easily he had been led into a trap! He swung on his heel, strode to the
rear of the column, to the wagons of the magicians. The jinxmen sat
around a small fire, drinking tea. "Which of you will hoodoo these white
forest vermin? I want them dead—stricken with sickness, cramps,
blindness, the most painful afflictions you can contrive!"
  There was general silence. The jinxmen sipped their tea.
 "Well?" demanded Lord Faide. "Have you no answer? Do I not make
myself plain?"
  Hein Huss cleared his throat, spat into the blaze. "Your wishes are
plain. Unfortunately we cannot hoodoo the First Folk."
  "And why?"
  "There are technical reasons."
  Lord Faide knew the futility of argument. "Must we slink home around
the forest? If you cannot hoodoo the First Folk, then bring out your
demons! I will march on the forest and chop out a path with my sword!"
  "It is not for me to suggest tactics," grumbled Hein Huss.
  "Go on, speak! I will listen."
  "A suggestion has been put to me, which I will pass to you. Neither I nor
the other jinxmen associate ourselves with it, since it recommends the
crudest of physical principles."
  "I await the suggestion," said Lord Faide.
 "It is merely this. One of my apprentices tampered with your car, as you
may remember."
  "Yes, and I will see he gets the hiding he deserves."
   "By some freak he caused the car to rise high into the air. The
suggestion is this: that we load the car with as much oil as the baggage
train affords, that we send the car aloft and let it drift over the planting.
At a suitable moment, the occupant of the car will pour the oil over the
trees, then hurl down a torch. The forest will burn. The First Folk will be at
least discomfited; at best a large number will be destroyed."
  Lord Faide slapped his hands together. "Excellent! Quickly, to work!"
He called a dozen soldiers, gave them orders; four kegs of cooking oil,
three buckets of pitch, six demijohns of spirit were brought and lifted into
the car. The engines grated and protested, and the car sagged almost to
the moss.
  Lord Faide shook his head sadly. "A rude use of the relic, but all in good
purpose. Now, where is that apprentice? He must indicate which switches
and which buttons he turned."
  "I suggest," said Hein Huss, "that Sam Salazar be sent up with the car."
  Lord Faide looked sidewise at Sam Salazar's round, bland countenance.
"An efficient hand is needed, a seasoned judgment. I wonder if he can be
trusted?"
  "I would think so," said Hein Huss, "inasmuch as it was Sam Salazar
who evolved the scheme in the first place."
  "Very well. In with you, Apprentice! Treat my car with reverence! The
wind blows away from us; fire this edge of the forest, in as long a strip as
you can manage. The torch, where is the torch?"
  The torch was brought and secured to the side of the car.
  "One more matter," said Sam Salazar. "I would like to borrow the
armor of some obliging knight, to protect myself from the wasps.
Otherwise —"
  "Armor!" bawled Lord Faide. "Bring armor!"
    At last, fully accoutered and with visor down, Sam Salazar climbed into
the car. He seated himself, peered intently at the buttons and switches. In
truth he was not precisely certain as to which he had manipulated before.
. . . He considered, reached forward, pushed, turned. The motors roared
and screamed; the car shuddered, sluggishly rose into the air. Higher,
higher, twenty feet, forty feet, sixty feet—a hundred, two hundred. The
wind eased the car toward the forest; in the shade the First Folk watched.
Several of them raised tubes, opened the shutters. The onlookers saw the
wasps dart through the air to dash against Sam Salazar's armor.
   The car drifted over the trees; Sam Salazar began ladling out the oil.
Below, the First Folk stirred uneasily. The wind carried the car too far over
the forest; Sam Salazar worked the controls, succeeded in guiding himself
back. One keg was empty, and another; he tossed them out, presently
emptied the remaining two, and the buckets of pitch. He soaked a rag in
spirit, ignited it, threw it over the side, poured the spirit after. The
flaming rag fell into leaves. A crackle, fire blazed and sprang. The car now
floated at a height of five hundred feet. Salazar poured over the remaining
spirits, dropped the demijohns, guided the car back over the heath, and
fumbling nervously with the controls dropped the car in a series of swoops
back to the moss.
  Lord Faide sprang forward, clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellently
done! The forest blazes like tinder!"
   The men of Faide Keep stood back, rejoicing to see the flames soar and
lick. The First Folk scurried back from the heat, waving their arms; foam
of a peculiar purple color issued from their vents as they ran, small useless
puffs discharged as if by accident or through excitement. The flames ate
through first the forest, then spread into the new planting, leaping
through the leaves.
   "Prepare to march!" called Lord Faide. "We pass directly behind the
flames, before the First Folk return."
  Off in the forest the First Folk perched in the trees, blowing out foam in
great puffs and billows, building a wall of insulation. The flames had eaten
half across the new planting, leaving behind smoldering saplings.
  "Forward! Briskly!"



  The column moved ahead. Coughing in the smoke, eyes smarting, they
passed under still blazing trees and came out on the western downs.
  Slowly the column moved forward, led by a pair of soldiers prodding the
moss with lances. Behind followed Lord Faide with the knights, then came
the foot soldiers, then the rumbling baggage train, and finally the six
wagons of the jinxmen.
  A thump, a creak, a snap. A scythe had broken up from the moss; the
soldiers in the lead dropped flat; the scythe whipped past, a foot from
Lord Faide's face. At the same time a plaintive cry came from the rear
guard. "They pursue! The First Folk come!"
  Lord Faide turned to inspect the new threat. A clot of First Folk, two
hundred or more, came across the moss, moving without haste of urgency.
Some carried wasp tubes, others thorn-rapiers.
  Lord Faid looked ahead. Another hundred yards should bring the army
out upon safe ground; then he could deploy and maneuver. "Forward!"
   The column proceeded, the baggage train and the jinx-men's wagons
pressing close up against the soldiers. Behind and to the side came the
First Folk, moving casually and easily.
  At last Lord Faide judged they had reached secure ground. "Forward,
now! Bring the wagons out, hurry now!"
   The troops needed no urging; they trotted out over the heath, the
wagons trundling after. Lord Faide ordered the wagons into a close double
line, stationed the soldiers between, with the horses behind and protected
from the wasps. The knights, now dismounted, waited in front.
   The First Folk came listlessly, formlessly forward. Blank white faces
stared; huge hands grasped tubes and thorns; traces of the purplish foam
showed at the lips of their underarm orifices.
  Lord Faide walked along the line of knights. "Swords ready. Allow them
as close as they care to come. Then a quick charge." He motioned to the
foot soldiers. "Choose a target. . . !" A volley of darts whistled overhead, to
plunge into white bodies. With chisel-bladed fingers the First Folk plucked
them out, discarded them with no evidence of vexation. One or two
staggered, wandered confusedly across the line of approach. Others raised
their tubes, withdrew the shutter. Out flew the insects, horny wings
rasping, prongs thrust forward. Across the moss they flickered, to crush
themselves against the armor of the knights, to drop to the ground, to be
stamped upon. The soldiers cranked their crossbows back into tension,
discharged another flight of darts, caused several more First Folk
casualties.
  The First Folk spread into a long line, surrounding the Faide troops.
Lord Faide shifted half his knights to the other side of the wagons.
   The First Folk wandered closer. Lord Faide called for a charge. The
knights stepped smartly forward, swords swinging. The First Folk
advanced a few more steps, then stopped short. The flaps of skin at their
backs swelled, pulsed; white foam gushed through their vents; clouds and
billows rose up around them. The knights halted uncertainly, prodding
and slashing into the foam but finding nothing. The foam piled higher,
rolling in and forward, pushing the knights back toward the wagons. They
looked questioningly toward Lord Faide.
   Lord Faide waved his sword. "Cut through to the other side! Forward!"
Slashing two-handed with his sword, he sprang into the foam. He struck
something solid, hacked blindly at it, pushed forward. Then his legs were
seized; he was upended and fell with a spine-rattling jar. Now he felt the
grate of a thorn searching his armor. It found a crevice under his corselet
and pierced him. Cursing he raised on his hands and knees, and plunged
blindly forward. Enormous hard hands grasped him, heavy forms fell on
his shoulders. He tried to breathe, but the foam clogged his visor; he
began to smother. Staggering to his feet he half ran, half fell out into the
open air, carrying two of the First Folk with him. He had lost his sword,
but managed to draw his dagger. The First Folk released him and stepped
back into the foam. Lord Faide sprang to his feet. Inside the foam came
the sounds of combat; some of his knights burst into the open; others
called for help. Lord Faide motioned to the knights. "Back within; the
devils slaughter our kinsmen! In and on to the center!"
  He took a deep breath. Seizing his dagger he thrust himself back into
the foam. A flurry of shapes came at him: he pounded with his fists, cut
with his dagger, stumbled over a mass of living tissue. He kicked the
softness, and stepped on metal. Bending, he grasped a leg but found it
limp and dead. First Folk were on his back, another thorn found its mark;
he groaned and thrust himself forward, and once again fell out into the
open air.
   A scant fifty of his knights had won back into the central clearing. Lord
Faide cried out, "To the center; mount your horses!" Abandoning his car,
he himself vaulted into a saddle. The foam boiled and billowed closer. Lord
Faide waved his arm. "Forward, all; at a gallop! After us the wagons—out
into the open!"
  They charged, thrusting the frightened horses into the foam. There was
white blindness, the feel of forms underneath, then the open air once
again. Behind came the wagons, and the foot soldiers, running along the
channel cut by the wagons. All won free—all but the knights who had fallen
under the foam.
   Two hundred yards from the great white clot of foam, Lord Faide
halted, turned, looked back. He raised his fist, shook it in a passion. "My
knights, my car, my honor! I'll burn your forests, I'll drive you into the sea,
there'll be no peace till all are dead!" He swung around. "Come," he called
bitterly to the remnants of his war party. "We have been defeated. We
retreat to Faide Keep."



                                    VIII

  Faide Keep, like Ballant Keep, was constructed of a black, glossy
substance, half metal, half stone, impervious to heat, force, and radiation.
A parasol roof, designed to ward off hostile energy, rested on five squat
outer towers, connected by walls almost as high as the lip of the
overhanging roof.
   The homecoming banquet was quiet and morose. The soldiers and
knights ate lightly and drank much, but instead of becoming merry,
lapsed into gloom. Lord Faide, overcome by emotion, jumped to his feet.
"Everyone sits silent, aching with rage. I feel no differently. We shall take
revenge. We shall put the forests to the torch. The cursed white savages
will smother and burn. Drink now with good cheer; not a moment will be
wasted. But we must be ready. It is no more than idiocy to attack as
before. Tonight I take council with the jinxmen, and we will start a
program of affliction."
  The soldiers and knights rose to their feet, raised their cups and drank a
somber toast. Lord Faide bowed and left the hall.
  He went to his private trophy room. On the walls hung escutcheons,
memorials, deathmasks, clusters of swords like many-petaled flowers; a
rack of side arms, energy pistols, electric stilettos; a portrait of the
original Faide, in ancient spacefarer's uniform, and a treasured, almost
unique, photograph of the great ship that had brought the first Faide to
Pangborn.
  Lord Faide studied the ancient face for several moments, then
summoned a servant. "Ask the Head Jinxman to attend me."
   Hein Huss presently stumped into the room. Lord Faide turned away
from the portrait, seated himself, motioned to Hein Huss to do likewise.
"What of the keep-lords?" he asked. "How do they regard the setback at
the hands of the First Folk?"
  "There are various reactions," said Hein Huss. "At Boghoten,
Candelwade, and Havve there is distress and anger."
  Lord Faide nodded. "These are my kinsmen."
  "At Gisborne, Graymar, Castle Cloud, and Alder there is satisfaction,
veiled calculation."
   "To be expected," muttered Lord Faide. "These lords must be humbled;
in spite of oaths and undertakings, they still think rebellion."
  "At Star Home, Julian-Douray, and Oak Hall I read surprise at the
abilities of the First Folk, but in the main disinterest."
   Lord Faide nodded sourly. "Well enough. There is no actual rebellion in
prospect; we are free to concentrate on the First Folk. I will tell you what is
in my mind. You report that new plantings are in progress between
Wildwood, Old Forest, Sarrow Copse, and elsewhere—possibly with the
intent of surrounding Faide Keep." He looked inquiringly at Hein Huss,
but no comment was forthcoming. Lord Faide continued. "Possibly we
have underestimated the cunning of the savages. They seem capable of
forming plans and acting with almost human persistence. Or, I should say,
more than human persistence, for it appears that after sixteen hundred
years they still consider us invaders and hope to exterminate us."
  "That is my own conclusion," said Hein Huss.
   "We must take steps to strike first. I consider this a matter for the
jinxmen. We gain no honor dodging wasps, falling into traps, or groping
through foam. It is a needless waste of lives. Therefore, I want you to
assemble your jinxmen, cabalmen, and spellbinders; I want you to
formulate your most potent hoodoos —"
  "Impossible."
  Lord Faide's black eyebrows rose high. " 'Impossible'?"
  Hein Huss seemed vaguely uncomfortable. "I read the wonder in your
mind. You suspect me of disinterest, irresponsibility. Not true. If the First
Folk defeat you, we suffer likewise."
  "Exactly," said Lord Faide dryly. "You will starve."
   "Nevertheless, the jinxmen cannot help you." He hoisted himself to his
feet, started for the door.
  "Sit," said Lord Faide. "It is necessary to pursue this matter."
   Hein Huss looked around with his bland, water-clear eyes. Lord Faide
met his gaze. Hein Huss sighed deeply. "I see I must ignore the precepts of
my trade, break the habits of a lifetime. I must explain." He took his bulk
to the wall, fingered the side arms in the rack, studied the portrait of the
ancestral Faide. "These miracle workers of the old times— unfortunately
we cannot use their magic! Notice the bulk of the spaceship! As heavy as
Faide Keep." He turned his gaze on the table, teleported a candelabra two
or three inches. "With considerably less effort they gave that spaceship
enormous velocity, using ideas and forces they knew to be imaginary and
irrational. We have advanced since then, of course. We no longer employ
mysteries, arcane constructions, wild nonhuman forces. We are rational
and practical—but we cannot achieve the effects of the ancient
magicians."
   Lord Faide watched Hein Huss with saturnine eyes. Hein Huss gave his
deep rumbling laugh. "You think that I wish to distract you with talk? No,
this is not the case. I am preparing to enlighten you." He returned to his
seat, lowered his bulk with a groan. "Now I must talk at length, to which I
am not accustomed. But you must be given to understand what we
jinxmen can do and what we cannot do.
   "First, unlike the ancient magicians, we are practical men. Naturally
there is difference in our abilities. The best jinxman combines great
telepathic facility, implacable personal force, and intimate knowledge of
his fellow humans. He knows their acts, motives, desires, and fears; he
understands the symbols that most vigorously represent these qualities.
Jinxmanship in the main is drudgery—dangerous, difficult, and
unromantic—with no mystery except that which we employ to confuse our
enemies." Hein Huss glanced at Lord Faide to encounter the same
saturnine gaze. "Ha! I still have told you nothing; I still have spent many
words talking around my inability to confound the First Folk. Patience."
  "Speak on," said Lord Faide.
   "Listen then. What happens when I hoodoo a man? First I must enter
into his mind telepathically. There are three operational levels: the
conscious, the unconscious, the cellular. The most effective jinxing is done
if all three levels are influenced. I feel into my victim, I learn as much as
possible, supplementing my previous knowledge of him, which is part of
my stock in trade. I take up his doll, which carries his traces. The doll is
highly useful but not indispensable. It serves as a focus for my attention; it
acts as a pattern, or a guide, as I fix upon the mind of the victim, and he is
bound by his own telepathic capacity to the doll which bears his traces.
   "So! Now! Man and doll are identified in my mind, and at one or more
levels in the victim's mind. Whatever happens to the doll the victim feels
to be happening to himself. There is no more to simple hoodooing than
that, from the standpoint of the jinxman. But naturally the victims differ
greatly. Susceptibility is the key idea here. Some men are more susceptible
than others. Fear and conviction breed susceptibility. As a jinxman
succeeds he becomes ever more feared, and consequently the more
efficacious he becomes. The process is self-generative.
   "Demon-possession is a similar technique. Susceptibility is again
essential; again conviction creates susceptibility. It is easiest and most
dramatic when the characteristics of the demon are well known, as in the
case of Comandore's Keyril. For this reason, demons can be exchanged or
traded among jinxmen. The commodity actually traded is public
acceptance and familiarity with the demon."
  "Demons then do not actually exist?" inquired Lord Faide
half-incredulously.
  Hein Huss grinned vastly, showing enormous yellow teeth. "Telepathy
works through a superstratum. Who knows what is created in this
superstratum? Maybe the demons live on after they have been conceived;
maybe they now are real. This of course is speculation, which we jinxmen
shun.
   "So much for demons, so much for the lesser techniques of
jinxmanship. I have explained sufficient to serve as background to the
present situation."
  "Excellent," said Lord Faide. "Continue."
  "The question, then, is: How does one cast a hoodoo into a creature of
an alien race?" He looked inquiringly at Lord Faide. "Can you tell me?"
  "I?" asked Lord Faide surprised. "No."
   "The method is basically the same as in the hoodooing of men. It is
necessary to make the creature believe, in every cell of his being, that he
suffers or dies. This is where the problems begin to arise. Does the
creature think—that is to say, does he arrange the processes of his life in
the same manner as men? This is a very important distinction. Certain
creatures of the universe use methods other than the human nerve-node
system to control their environments. We call the human system
'intelligence'—a word which properly should be restricted to human
activity. Other creatures use different agencies, different systems, arriving
sometimes at similar ends. To bring home these generalities, I cannot
hope to merge my mind with the corresponding capacity in the First Folk.
The key will not fit the lock. At least, not altogether. Once or twice when I
watched the First Folk trading with men at Forest Market, I felt occasional
weak significances. This implies that the First Folk mentality creates
something similar to human telepathic impulses. Nevertheless, there is no
real sympathy between the two races.
   "This is the first and the least difficulty. If I were able to make complete
telepathic contact—what then? The creatures are different from us. They
have no words for 'fear,' 'hate,' 'rage,' 'pain,' 'bravery,' 'cowardice.' One
may deduce that they do not feel these emotions. Undoubtedly they know
other sensations, possibly as meaningful. Whatever these may be, they are
unknown to me, and therefore I cannot either form or project symbols for
these sensations."
   Lord Faide stirred impatiently. "In short, you tell me that you cannot
efficiently enter these creatures' minds; and that if you could, you do not
know what influences you could plant there to do them harm."
  "Succinct," agreed Hein Huss. "Substantially accurate."
   Lord Faide rose to his feet. "In that case you must repair these
deficiencies. You must learn to telepathize with the First Folk; you must
find what influences will harm them. As quickly as possible."
   Hein Huss stared reproachfully at Lord Faide. "But I have gone to great
lengths to explain the difficulties involved! To hoodoo the First Folk is a
monumental task! It would be necessary to enter Wildwood, to live with
the First Folk, to become one of them, as my apprentice thought to
become a tree. Even then an effective hoodoo is improbable! The First Folk
must be susceptible to conviction! Otherwise there would be no bite to the
hoodoo! I could guarantee no success. I would predict failure. No other
jinxman would dare tell you this, no other would risk his mana. I dare
because I am Hein Huss, with life behind me."
   "Nevertheless we must attempt every weapon at hand," said Lord Faide
in a dry voice. "I cannot risk my knights, my kinsmen, my soldiers against
these pallid half-creatures. What a waste of good flesh and blood to be
stuck by a poison insect! You must go to Wildwood; you must learn how to
hoodoo the First Folk."
   Hein Huss heaved himself erect. His great round face was stony; his
eyes were like bits of water-worn glass. "It is likewise a waste to go on a
fool's errand. I am no fool, and I will not undertake a hoodoo which is
futile from the beginning."
  "In that case," said Lord Faide, "I will find someone else." He went to
the door, summoned a servant. "Bring Isak Comandore here."
   Hein Huss lowered his bulk into the chair. "I will remain during the
interview, with your permission."
  "As you wish."
  Isak Comandore appeared in the doorway, tall, loosely articulated, head
hanging forward. He darted a glance of swift appraisal at Lord Faide, at
Hein Huss, then stepped into the room.
  Lord Faide crisply explained his desires. "Hein Huss refuses to
undertake the mission. Therefore I call on you."
  Isak Comandore calculated. The pattern of his thinking was clear: he
possibly could gain much mana; there was small risk of diminution, for
had not Hein Huss already dodged away from the project? Comandore
nodded. "Hein Huss has made clear the difficulties; only a very clever and
very lucky jinxman can hope to succeed. But I accept the challenge, I will
go."
  "Good," said Hein Huss. "I will go, too."
  Isak Comandore darted him a sudden hot glance.
  "I wish only to observe. To Isak Comandore goes the responsibility and
whatever credit may ensue."
  "Very well," said Comandore presently. "I welcome your company.
Tomorrow morning we leave. I go to order our wagon."
  Late in the evening Apprentice Sam Salazar came to Hein Huss where
he sat brooding in his workroom. "What do you wish?" growled Huss.
  "I have a request to make of you, Head Jinxman Huss."
   "Head Jinxman in name only," grumbled Hein Huss. "Isak Comandore
is about to assume my position."
  Sam Salazar blinked, laughed uncertainly. Hein Huss fixed wintry-pale
eyes on him. "What do you wish?"
   "I have heard that you go on an expedition to Wildwood, to study the
First Folk."
  "True, true. What then?"
  "Surely they will now attack all men?"
  Hein Huss shrugged. "At Forest Market they trade with men. At Forest
Market men have always entered the forest. Perhaps there will be change,
perhaps not."
  "I would go with you, if I may," said Sam Salazar.
  "This is no mission for apprentices."
  "An apprentice must take every opportunity to learn," said Sam Salazar.
"Also you will need extra hands to set up tents, to load and unload
cabinets, to cook, to fetch water, and other such matters."
  "Your argument is convincing," said Hein Huss. "We depart at dawn; be
on hand."



                                   IX

  As the sun lifted over the heath the jinxmen departed Faide Keep. The
high-wheeled wagon creaked north over the moss, Hein Huss and Isak
Comandore riding the front seat, Sam Salazar with his legs hanging over
the tail. The wagon rose and fell with the dips and mounds of the moss,
wheels wobbling, and presently passed out of sight behind Skywatcher's
Hill.
   Five days later, an hour before sunset, the wagon reappeared. As before,
Hein Huss and Isak Comandore rode the front seat, with Sam Salazar
perched behind. They approached the keep, and without giving so much
as a sign or a nod, drove through the gate into the courtyard.
  Isak Comandore unfolded his long legs, stepped to the ground like a
spider; Hein Huss lowered himself with a grunt. Both went to their
quarters, while Sam Salazar led the wagon to the jinxmen's warehouse.
  Somewhat later Isak Comandore presented himself to Lord Faide, who
had been waiting in his trophy room, forced to a show of indifference
through considerations of position, dignity, and protocol. Isak Comandore
stood in the doorway, grinning like a fox. Lord Faide eyed him with sour
dislike, waiting for Comandore to speak. Hein Huss might have stationed
himself an entire day, eyes placidly fixed on Lord Faide, awaiting the first
word; Isak Comandore lacked the absolute serenity. He came a step
forward. "I have returned from Wildwood."
  "With what results?"
  "I believe that it is possible to hoodoo the First Folk."
  Hein Huss spoke from behind Comandore. "I believe that such an
undertaking, if feasible, would be useless, irresponsible, and possibly
dangerous." He lumbered forward.
  Isak Comandore's eyes glowed hot red-brown; he turned back to Lord
Faide. "You ordered me forth on a mission; I will render a report."
  "Seat yourselves. I will listen."
  Isak Comandore, nominal head of the expedition, spoke. "We rode along
the river bank to Forest Market. Here was no sign of disorder or of
hostility. A hundred First Folk traded timber, planks, posts, and poles for
knife blades, iron wire, and copper pots. When they returned to their
barge we followed them aboard, wagon, horses, and all. They showed no
surprise —"
  "Surprise," said Hein Huss heavily, "is an emotion of which they have
no knowledge."
   Isak Comandore glared briefly. "We spoke to the barge-tenders,
explaining that we wished to visit the interior of Wildwood. We asked if
the First Folk would try to kill us to prevent us from entering the forest.
They professed indifference as to either our well-being or our destruction.
This was by no means a guarantee of safe conduct; however, we accepted
it as such, and remained aboard the barge." He spoke on with occasional
emendations from Hein Huss.
   They had proceeded up the river, into the forest, the First Folk poling
against the slow current. Presently they put away the poles; nevertheless
the barge moved as before. The mystified jinxmen discussed the
possibility of teleportation, or symboligical force, and wondered if the
First Folk had developed jinxing techniques unknown to men. Sam
Salazar, however, noticed that four enormous water beetles, each twelve
feet long with oil-black carapaces and blunt heads, had risen from the
river bed and pushed the barge from behind—apparently without
direction or command. The First Folk stood at the bow, turning the nose
of the barge this way or that to follow the winding of the river. They
ignored the jinxmen and Sam Salazar as if they did not exist.
   The beetles swam tirelessly; the barge moved for four hours as fast as a
man could walk. Occasionally, First Folk peered from the forest shadows,
but none showed interest or concern in the barge's unusual cargo. By
midafternoon the river widened, broke into many channels and became a
marsh; a few minutes later the barge floated out into the open water of a
small lake. Along the shore, behind the first line of trees appeared a large
settlement. The jinxmen were interested and surprised. It had always been
assumed that the First Folk wandered at random through the forest, as
they had originally lived in the moss of the downs.
  The barge grounded; the First Folk walked ashore, the men followed
with the horses and wagon. Their immediate impressions were of
swarming numbers, of slow but incessant activity, and they were attacked
by an overpoweringly evil smell.
   Ignoring the stench, the men brought the wagon in from the shore,
paused to take stock of what they saw. The settlement appeared to be a
center of many diverse activities. The trees had been stripped of lower
branches, and supported blocks of hardened foam three hundred feet long,
fifty feet high, twenty feet thick, with a space of a man's height intervening
between the underside of the foam and the ground. There were a dozen of
these blocks, apparently of cellular construction. Certain of the cells had
broken open and seethed with small white fishlike creatures—the First
Folk young.
   Below the blocks masses of First Folk engaged in various occupations, in
the main unfamiliar to the jinxmen. Leaving the wagon in the care of Sam
Salazar, Hein Huss and Isak Comandore moved forward among the First
Folk, repelled by the stench and the pressure of alien flesh, but drawn by
curiosity. They were neither heeded nor halted; they wandered everywhere
about the settlement. One area seemed to be an enormous zoo, divided
into a number of sections. The purpose of one of these sections—a kind of
range two hundred-feet long—was all too clear. At one end a human
corpse hung on a rope—a Faide casualty from the battle at the new
planting. Certain of the wasps flew straight at the corpse; just before
contact they were netted and removed. Others flew up and away or veered
toward the First Folk who stood along the side of the range. These latter
also were netted and killed at once.
  The purpose of the business was clear enough. Examining some of the
other activity in this new light, the jinxmen were able to interpret much
that had hitherto puzzled them.
  They saw beetles tall as dogs with heavy saw-toothed pincers attacking
objects resembling horses; pens of insects even larger, long narrow,
segmented, with dozens of heavy legs and nightmare heads. All these
creatures—wasps, beetles, centipedes—in smaller and less formidable form
were indigenous to the forest; it was plain that the First Folk had been
practicing selective breeding for many years, perhaps centuries.
   Not all the activity was warlike. Moths were trained to gather nuts,
worms to gnaw straight holes through timber; in another section
caterpillars chewed a yellow mash, molded it into identical spheres. Much
of the evil odor emanated from the zoo; the jinxmen departed without
reluctance, and returned to the wagon. Sam Salazar pitched the tent and
built a fire, while Hein Huss and Isak Comandore discussed the
settlement.
  Night came; the blocks of foam glowed with imprisoned light; the
activity underneath proceeded without cessation. The jinxmen retired to
the tent and slept, while Sam Salazar stood guard.



  The following day Hein Huss was able to engage one of the First Folk in
conversation; it was the first attention of any sort given to them.
  The conversation was long; Hein Huss reported only the gist of it to
Lord Faide. (Isak Comandore turned away, ostentatiously disassociating
himself from the matter.)
  Hein Huss first of all had inquired as to the purpose of the sinister
preparations: the wasps, beetles, centipedes, and the like.
   "We intend to kill men," the creature had reported ingenuously. "We
intend to return to the moss. This has been our purpose ever since men
appeared on the planet."
   Huss had stated that such an ambition was shortsighted, that there was
ample room for both men and First Folk on Pangborn. "The First Folk,"
said Hein Huss, "should remove their traps and cease their efforts to
surround the keeps with forest."
 "No," came the response, "men are intruders. They mar the beautiful
moss. All will be killed."
   Isak Comandore returned to the conversation. "I noticed here a
significant fact. All the First Folk within sight had ceased their work; all
looked toward us, as if they, too, participated in the discussion. I reached
the highly important conclusion that the First Folk are not complete
individuals but components of a larger unity, joined to a greater or less
extent by a telepathic phase not unlike our own."
    Hein Huss continued placidly, "I remarked that if we were attacked,
many of the First Folk would perish. The creature showed no concern, and
in fact implied much of what Jinxman Comandore had already induced:
'There are always more in the cells to replace the elements which die. But
if the community becomes sick, all suffer. We have been forced into the
forests, into a strange existence. We must arm ourselves and drive away
the men, and to this end we have developed the methods of men to our
own purposes!' “
  Isak Comandore spoke. "Needless to say, the creature referred to the
ancient men, not ourselves."
   "In any event," said Lord Faide, "they leave no doubt as to their
intentions. We should be fools not to attack them at once, with every
weapon at our disposal."
   Hein Huss continued imperturbably. "The creature went on at some
length. 'We have learned the value of irrationality.' 'Irrationality' of course
was not his word or even his meaning. He said something like 'a series of
vaguely motivated trials'—as close as I can translate. He said, 'We have
learned to change our environment. We use insects and trees and plants
and waterslugs. It is an enormous effort for us who would prefer a placid
life in the moss. But you men have forced this life on us, and now you must
suffer the consequences.' I pointed out once more that men were not
helpless, that many First Folk would die. The creature seemed unworried.
'The community persists.' I asked a delicate question, 'If your purpose is to
kill men, why do you allow us here?' He said, 'The entire community of
men will be destroyed.' Apparently they believe the human society to be
similar to their own, and therefore regard the killing of three wayfaring
individuals as pointless effort."
  Lord Faide laughed grimly. "To destroy us they must first win past
Hellmouth, then penetrate Faide Keep. This they are unable to do."
   Isak Comandore resumed his report. "At this time I was already
convinced that the problem was one of hoodooing not an individual but an
entire race. In theory this should be no more difficult than hoodooing one.
It requires no more effort to speak to twenty than to one. With this end in
view I ordered the apprentice to collect substances associated with the
creatures. Skinflakes, foam, droppings, all other exudations obtainable.
While he did so, I tried to put myself in rapport with the creatures. It is
difficult, for their telepathy works across a different stratum from ours.
Nevertheless, to a certain extent I have succeeded."
  "Then you can hoodoo the First Folk?" asked Lord Faide.
  "I vouchsafe nothing until I try. Certain preparations must be made."
  "Go then; make your preparations."
   Comandore rose to his feet and with a sly side glance for Hein Huss left
the room. Huss waited, pinching his chin with heavy fingers. Lord Faide
looked at him coldly. "You have something to add?"
  Huss grunted, hoisted himself to his feet. "I wish that I did. But my
thoughts are confused. Of the many futures, all seem troubled and angry.
Perhaps our best is not good enough."
  Lord Faide looked at Hein Huss with surprise; the massive Head
Jinxman had never before spoken in terms so pessimistic and melancholy.
"Speak then; I will listen."
   Hein Huss said gruffly, "If I knew any certainties I would speak gladly.
But I am merely beset by doubts. I fear that we can no longer depend on
logic and careful jinxmanship. Our ancestors were miracle workers,
magicians. They drove the First Folk into the forest. To put us to flight in
our turn the First Folk have adopted the ancient methods: random trial
and purposeless empiricism. I am dubious. Perhaps we must turn our
backs on sanity and likewise return to the mysticism of our ancestors."
  Lord Faide shrugged. "If Isak Comandore can hoodoo the First Folk,
such a retreat may be unnecessary."
   "The world changes," said Hein Huss. "Of so much I feel sure: the old
days of craft and careful knowledge are gone. The future is for men of
cleverness, of imagination untroubled by discipline; the unorthodox Sam
Salazar may become more effective than I. The world changes."
  Lord Faide smiled his sour dyspeptic smile. "When that day comes I will
appoint Sam Salazar Head Jinxman and also name him Lord Faide, and
you and I will retire together to a hut on the downs."
  Hein Huss made a heavy fateful gesture and departed.



                                     X

  Two days later Lord Faide, coming upon Isak Comandore, inquired as
to his progress. Comandore took refuge in generalities. After another two
days Lord Faide inquired again and this time insisted on particulars.
Comandore grudgingly led the way to his workroom, where a dozen
cabalmen, spellbinders, and apprentices worked around a large table,
building a model of the First Folk settlement in Wildwood.
  "Along the lakeshore," said Comandore, "I will range a great number of
dolls, daubed with First Folk essences. When this is complete I will work
up a hoodoo and blight the creatures."
  "Good. Perform well." Lord Faide departed the workroom, mounted to
the topmost pinnacle of the keep, to the cupola where the ancestral
weapon Hellmouth was housed. "Jambart! Where are you?"
  Weapon-tender Jambart, short, blue-jowled, red-nosed and big-bellied,
appeared. "My lord?"
  "I come to inspect Hellmouth. Is it prepared for instant use?"
  "Prepared, my lord, and ready. Oiled, greased, polished, scraped,
burnished, tended—every part smooth as an egg."
   Lord Faide made a scowling examination of Hellmouth—a heavy
cylinder six feet in diameter, twelve feet long, studded with half-domes
interconnected with tubes of polished copper. Jambart undoubtedly had
been diligent. No trace of dirt or rust or corrosion showed; all was
gleaming metal. The snout was covered with a heavy plate of metal and
tarred canvas; the ring upon which the weapon swiveled was well greased.
  Lord Faide surveyed the four horizons. To the south was fertile Faide
Valley; to the west open downs; to north and east the menacing loom of
Wildwood.
   He turned back to Hellmouth and pretended to find a smear of grease.
Jambart boiled with expostulations and protestations; Lord Faide uttered
a grim warning, enjoining less laxity, then descended to the workroom of
Hein Huss. He found the Head Jinxman reclining on a couch, staring at
the ceiling. At a bench stood Sam Salazar surrounded by bottles, flasks,
and dishes.
  Lord Faide stared balefully at the confusion. "What are you doing?" he
asked the apprentice.
  Sam Salazar looked up guiltily. "Nothing in particular, my lord."
  "If you are idle, go then and assist Isak Comandore."
  "I am not idle, Lord Faide."
  "Then what do you do?"
  Sam Salazar gazed sulkily at the bench. "I don't know."
  "Then you are idle!"
  "No, I am occupied. I pour various liquids on this foam. It is First Folk
foam. I wonder what will happen. Water does not dissolve it, nor spirits.
Heat chars and slowly burns it, emitting a foul smoke."
   Lord Faide turned away with a sneer. "You amuse yourself as a child
might. Go to Isak Comandore; he can find use for you. How do you expect
to become a jinxman, dabbling and prattling like a baby among pretty
rocks?"
   Hein Huss gave a deep sound: a mingling of sigh, snort, grunt, and
clearing of the throat. "He does no harm, and Isak Comandore has hands
enough. Salazar will never become a jinxman; that has been clear a long
time."
 Lord Faide shrugged. "He is your apprentice, and your responsibility.
Well, then. What news from the keeps?"
   Hein Huss, groaning and wheezing, swung his legs over the edge of the
couch. "The lords share your concern, to greater or less extent. Your close
allies will readily place troops at your disposal; the others likewise if
pressure is brought to bear."
  Lord Faide nodded in dour satisfaction. "For the moment there is no
urgency. The First Folk hold to their forests. Faide Keep of course is
impregnable, although they might ravage the valley. . . ." he paused
thoughtfully. "Let Isak Comandore cast his hoodoo. Then we will see."
   From the direction of the bench came a hiss, a small explosion, a whiff
of acrid gas. Sam Salazar turned guiltily to look at them, his eyebrows
singed. Lord Faide gave a snort of disgust and strode from the room.
  "What did you do?" Hein Huss inquired in a colorless voice.
  "I don't know."
    Now Hein Huss likewise snorted in disgust. "Ridiculous. If you wish to
work miracles, you must remember your procedures. Miracle working is
not jinxmanship, with established rules and guides. In matters so complex
it is well that you take notes, so that the miracles may be repeated."
  Sam Salazar nodded in agreement and turned back to the bench.



                                    XI
   Late during the day, news of new First Folk truculence reached Faide
Keep. On Honeymoss Hill, not far west of Forest Market, a camp of
shepherds had been visited by a wandering group of First Folk, who began
to kill the sheep with thorn-swords. When the shepherds protested they,
too, were attacked, and many were killed. The remainder of the sheep
were massacred.
   The following day came other news: four children swimming in
Brastock River at Gilbert Ferry had been seized by enormous water-beetles
and cut into pieces. On the other side of Wildwood, in the foothills
immediately below Castle Cloud, peasants had cleared several hillsides and
planted them to vines. Early in the morning they had discovered a horde
of black disklike flukes devouring the vines— leaves, branches, trunks, and
roots. They set about killing the flukes with spades and at once were stung
to death by wasps.
  Adam McAdam reported the incidents to Lord Faide, who went to Isak
Comandore in a fury. "How soon before you are prepared?"
 "I am prepared now. But I must rest and fortify myself. Tomorrow
morning I work the hoodoo."
   "The sooner the better! The creatures have left their forest; they are out
killing men!"
   Isak Comandore pulled his long chin. "That was to be expected; they
told us as much."
  Lord Faide ignored the remark. "Show me your tableau."
   Isak Comandore took him into his workroom. The model was now
complete, with the masses of simulated First Folk properly daubed and
sensitized, each tied with a small wad of foam. Isak Comandore pointed to
a pot of dark liquid. "I will explain the basis of the hoodoo. When I visited
the camp I watched everywhere for powerful symbols. Undoubtedly there
were many at hand, but I could not discern them. However, I remembered
a circumstance from the battle at the planting: when the creatures were
attacked, threatened with fire and about to die, they spewed foam of dull
purple color. Evidently this purple foam is associated with death. My
hoodoo will be based upon this symbol."
  "Rest well, then, so that you may hoodoo to your best capacity."
  The following morning Isak Comandore dressed in long robes of black,
and set a mask of the demon Nard on his head to fortify himself. He
entered his workroom, closed the door.
   An hour passed, two hours. Lord Faide sat at breakfast with his kin,
stubbornly maintaining a pose of cynical unconcern. At last he could
contain himself no longer and went out into the courtyard where
Comandore's underlings stood fidgeting and uneasy. "Where is Hein
Huss?" demanded Lord Faide. "Summon him here."
  Hein Huss came stumping out of his quarters. Lord Faide motioned to
Comandore's workshop. "What is happening? Is he succeeding?"
  Hein Huss looked toward the workshop. "He is casting a powerful
hoodoo. I feel confusion, anger —"
  "In Comandore, or in the First Folk?"
  "I am not in rapport. I think he has conveyed a message to their minds.
A very difficult task, as I explained to you. In this preliminary aspect he
has succeeded."
  " 'Preliminary'? What else remains?"
  "The two most important elements of the hoodoo: the susceptibility of
the victim and the appropriateness of the symbol."
  Lord Faide frowned. "You do not seem optimistic."
  "I am uncertain. Isak Comandore may be right in his assumption. If so,
and if the First Folk are highly susceptible, today marks a great victory,
and Comandore will achieve tremendous mana!"
  Lord Faide stared at the door to the workshop. "What now?"
  Hein Huss's eyes went blank with concentration. "Isak Comandore is
near death. He can hoodoo no more today."
  Lord Faide turned, waved his arm to the cabalmen. "Enter the
workroom! Assist your master!"
  The cabalmen raced to the door, flung it open. Presently they emerged
supporting the limp form of Isak Comandore, his black robe spattered
with purple foam. Lord Faide pressed close. "What did you achieve?
Speak!"
   Isak Comandore's eyes were half closed, his mouth hung loose and wet.
"I spoke to the First Folk, to the whole race. I sent the symbol into their
minds—" His head fell limply sidewise.
   Lord Faide moved back. "Take him to his quarters. Put him on his
couch." He turned away, stood indecisively, chewing at his drooping lower
lip. "Still we do not know the measure of his success."
  "Ah," said Hein Huss, "but we do!"
  Lord Faide jerked around. "What is this? What do you say?"
   "I saw into Comandore's mind. He used the symbol of purple foam; with
tremendous effort he drove it into their minds. Then he learned that
purple foam means not death— purple foam means fear for the safety of
the community, purple foam means desperate rage."
  "In any event," said Lord Faide after a moment, "there is no harm done.
The First Folk can hardly become more hostile."
   Three hours later a scout rode furiously into the courtyard, threw
himself off his horse, ran to Lord Faide. "The First Folk have left the forest!
A tremendous number! Thousands! They are advancing on Faide Keep!"
  "Let them advance!" said Lord Faide. "The more the better! Jambart,
where are you?"
  "Here, sir."
  "Prepare Hellmouth! Hold all in readiness!"
  "Hellmouth is always ready, sir!"
  Lord Faide struck him across the shoulders. "Off with you! Bernard!"
  The sergeant of the Faide troops came forward. "Ready, Lord Faide."
 "The First Folk attack. Armor your men against wasps, feed them well.
We will need all our strength."
  Lord Faide turned to Hein Huss. "Send to the keeps, to the manor
houses, order our kinsmen to join us, with all their troops and all their
armor. Send to Bellgard Hall, to Boghoten, Camber, and Candelwade.
Haste, haste, it is only hours from Wildwood."
  Huss held up his hand. "I have already done so. The keeps are warned.
They know your need."
  "And the First Folk—can you feel their minds?"
  "No."
   Lord Faide walked away. Hein Huss lumbered out the main gate,
walked around the keep, casting appraising glances up the black walls of
the squat towers, windowless and proof even against the ancient
miracle-weapons. High on top the great parasol roof Jambart the
weapon-tender worked in the cupola, polishing that which already
glistened, greasing surfaces already heavy with grease.
  Hein Huss returned within. Lord Faide approached him, mouth hard,
eyes bright. "What have you seen?"
  "Only the keep, the walls, the towers, the roof, and Hellmouth."
  "And what do you think?"
  "I think many things."
   "You are noncommittal; you know more than you say. It is best that you
speak, because if Faide Keep falls to the savages you die with the rest of
us."
   Hein Huss's water-clear eyes met the brilliant black gaze of Lord Faide.
"I know only what you know. The First Folk attack. They have proved they
are not stupid. They intend to kill us. They are not jinxmen; they cannot
afflict us or force us out. They cannot break in the walls. To burrow under,
they must dig through solid rock. What are their plans? I do not know.
Will they succeed? Again, I do not know. But the day of the jinxman and
his orderly array of knowledge is past. I think that we must grope for
miracles, blindly and foolishly, like Salazar pouring liquids on foam."
  A troop of armored horsemen rode in through the gates: warriors from
nearby Bellgard Hall. And as the hours passed contingents from other
keeps came to Faide Keep, until the courtyard was dense with troops and
horses.
  Two hours before sunset the First Folk were sighted across the downs.
They seemed a very large company, moving in an undisciplined clot with a
number of stragglers, forerunners and wanderers out on the flanks.
   The hotbloods from outside keeps came clamoring to Lord Faide,
urging a charge to cut down the First Folk; they found no seconding voices
among the veterans of the battle at the planting. Lord Faide, however, was
pleased to see the dense mass of First Folk. "Let them approach only a
mile more—and Hellmouth will take them! Jambart!"
  "At your call, Lord Faide."
  "Come, Hellmouth speaks!" He strode away with Jambart after. Up to
the cupola they climbed.
  "Roll forth Hellmouth, direct it against the savages!"
  Jambart leaped to the glistening array of wheels and levers. He
hesitated in perplexity, then tentatively twisted a wheel. Hellmouth
responded by twisting slowly around on its radial track, to the groan and
chatter of long-frozen bearings. Lord Faide's brows lowered into a
menacing line. "I hear evidence of neglect."
  "Neglect, my lord, never! Find one spot of rust, a shadow of grime, you
may have me whipped!"
  "What of the sound?"
  "That is internal and invisible—none of my responsibility."
   Lord Faide said nothing. Hellmouth now pointed toward the great pale
tide from Wildwood. Jambart twisted a second wheel and Hellmouth
thrust forth its heavy snout. Lord Faide, in a voice harsh with anger, cried,
"The cover, fool!"
   "An oversight, my lord, easily repaired." Jambart crawled out along the
top of Hellmouth, clinging to the protuberances for dear life, with below
only the long smooth sweep of roof. With considerable difficulty he tore
the covering loose, then grunting and cursing, inched himself back,
jerking with his knees, rearing his buttocks.
  The First Folk had slowed their pace a trifle, the main body only a
half-mile distant.
  "Now," said Lord Faide in high excitement, "before they disperse, we
exterminate them!" He sighted through a telescopic tube, squinting
through the dimness of internal films and incrustations, signaled to
Jambart for the final adjustments. "Now! Fire!"
  Jambart pulled the firing lever. Within the great metal barrel came a
sputter of clicking sounds. Hellmouth whined, roared. Its snout glowed
red, orange, white, and out poured a sudden gout of blazing purple
radiation—which almost instantly died. Hellmouth's barrel quivered with
heat, fumed, seethed, hissed. From within came a faint pop. Then there
was silence.
  A hundred yards in front of the First Folk a patch of moss burnt black
where the bolt had struck. The aiming device was inaccurate. Hellmouth's
bolt had killed perhaps twenty of the First Folk vanguard.
  Lord Faide made feverish signals. "Quick! Raise the barrel. Now! Fire
again!"
  Jambart pulled the firing arm, to no avail. He tried again, with the
same lack of success. "Hellmouth evidently is tired."
   "Hellmouth is dead," cried Lord Faide. "You have failed me. Hellmouth
is extinct."
   "No, no," protested Jambart. "Hellmouth rests! I nurse it as my own
child! It is polished like glass! Whenever a section wears off or breaks
loose, I neatly remove the fracture, and every trace of cracked glass."
  Lord Faide threw up his arms, shouted in vast, inarticulate grief, ran
below. "Huss! Hein Huss!"
  Hein Huss presented himself. "What is your will?"
  "Hellmouth has given up its fire. Conjure me more fire for Hellmouth,
and quickly!"
  "Impossible."
  "Impossible!" cried Lord Faide. "That is all I hear from you! Impossible,
useless, impractical! You have lost your ability. I will consult Isak
Comandore."
  "Isak Comandore can put no more fire into Hellmouth than can I."
   "What sophistry is this? He puts demons into men, surely he can put
fire into Hellmouth!"
  "Come, Lord Faide, you are overwrought. You know the difference
between jinxmanship and miracle working."
  Lord Faide motioned to a servant. "Bring Isak Comandore here to me!"
  Isak Comandore, face haggard, skin waxy, limped into the courtyard.
Lord Faide waved preemptorily. "I need your skill. You must restore fire to
Hellmouth."
   Comandore darted a quick glance at Hein Huss, who stood solid and
cold. Comandore decided against dramatic promises that could not be
fulfilled. "I cannot do this, my lord."
  "What! You tell me this, too?"
   "Remark the difference, Lord Faide, between man and metal. A man's
normal state is something near madness; he is at all times balanced on a
knife-edge between hysteria and apathy. His senses tell him far less of the
world than he thinks they do. It is a simple trick to deceive a man, to
possess him with a demon, to drive him out of his mind, to kill him. But
metal is insensible; metal reacts only as its shape and condition dictates,
or by the working of miracles."
  "Then you must work miracles!"
  "Impossible."
  Lord Faide drew a deep breath, collected himself. He walked swiftly
across the court. "My armor, my horse. We attack."
  The column formed, Lord Faide at the head. He led the knights through
the portals, with armored footmen behind.
  "Beware the foam!" called Lord Faide. "Attack, strike, cut, draw back.
Keep your visors drawn against the wasps! Each man must kill a hundred!
Attack!"
  The troop rode forth against the horde of First Folk, knights in the lead.
The hooves of the horses pounded softly over the thick moss; in the west
the large pale sun hung close to the horizon.
    Two hundred yards from the First Folk the knights touched the
club-headed horses into a lope. They raised their swords, and shouting,
plunged forward, each man seeking to be first. The clotted mass of First
Folk separated: black beetles darted forth and after them long segmented
centipede creatures. They dashed among the horses, mandibles clicking,
snouts slashing. Horses screamed, reared, fell over backwards; beetles cut
open armored knights as a dog cracks a bone. Lord Faide's horse threw
him and ran away; he picked himself up, hacked at a nearby beetle, lopped
off its front leg. It darted forward, he lopped off the leg opposite; the heavy
head dipped, tore up the moss. Lord Faide cut off the remaining legs, and
it lay helpless.
  "Retreat," he bellowed. "Retreat!"
  The knights moved back, slashing and hacking at beetles and
centipedes, killing or disabling all which attacked.
  "Form into a double line, knights and men. Advance slowly, supporting
each other!"
  The men advanced. The First Folk dispersed to meet them, armed with
their thorn-swords and carrying pouches. Ten yards from the men they
reached into the pouches, brought dark balls which they threw at the men.
The balls broke and spattered on the armor.
   "Charge!" bawled Lord Faide. The men sprang forward into the mass of
First Folk, cutting, slashing, killing. "Kill!" called Lord Faide in exultation.
"Leave not one alive!"
  A pang struck him, a sting inside his armor, followed by another and
another. Small things crawled inside the metal, stinging, biting, crawling.
He looked about: on all sides were harassed expressions, faces working in
anguish. Sword arms fell limp as hands beat on the metal, futilely trying to
scratch, rub. Two men suddenly began to tear off their armor.
  "Retreat," cried Lord Faide. "Back to the keep!"
  The retreat was a rout, the soldiers shedding articles of armor as they
ran. After them came a flight of wasps—a dozen or more, and half as many
men cried out as the poison prongs struck into their backs.
  Inside the keep stormed the disorganized company, casting aside the
last of their armor, slapping their skin, scratching, rubbing, crushing the
ferocious red mites that infested them.
  "Close the gates," roared Lord Faide.
  The gates slid shut. Faide Keep was besieged.



                                   XII

   During the night the First Folk surrounded the keep, forming a ring
fifty yards from the walls. All night there was motion, ghostly shapes
coming and going in the starlight.
   Lord Faide watched from a parapet until midnight, with Hein Huss at
his side. Repeatedly, he asked, "What of the other keeps? Do they send
further reinforcements?" to which Hein Huss each time gave the same
reply: "There is confusion and doubt. The keep-lords are anxious to help
but do not care to throw themselves away. At this moment they consider
and take stock of the situation."
   Lord Faide at last left the parapet, signaling Hein Huss to follow. He
went to his trophy room, threw himself into a chair, motioned Hein Huss
to be seated. For a moment he fixed the jinxman with a cool, calculating
stare. Hein Huss bore the appraisal without discomfort.
  "You are Head Jinxman," said Lord Faide finally. "For twenty years you
have worked spells, cast hoodoos, performed auguries—more effectively
than any other jinxman of Pangborn. But now I find you inept and listless.
Why is this?"
   "I am neither inept nor listless. I am unable to achieve beyond my
abilities. I do not know how to work miracles. For this you must consult
my apprentice Sam Salazar, who does not know either, but who earnestly
tries every possibility and many impossibilities."
  "You believe in this nonsense yourself! Before my very eyes you become
a mystic!"
   Hein Huss shrugged. "There are limitations to my knowledge. Miracles
occur—that we know. The relics of our ancestors lie everywhere. Their
methods were supernatural, repellent to our own mental processes—but
think! Using these same methods the First Folk threaten to destroy us. In
the place of metal they use living flesh—but the result is similar. The men
of Pangborn, if they assemble and accept casualties, can drive the First
Folk back to Wildwood—but for how long? A year? Ten years? The First
Folk plant new trees, dig more traps—and presently come forth again,
with more terrible weapons: flying beetles, large as a horse; wasps strong
enough to pierce armor, lizards to scale the walls of Faide Keep."
  Lord Faide pulled at his chin. "And the jinxmen are helpless?"
  "You saw for yourself. Isak Comandore intruded enough into their
consciousness to anger them, no more."
  "So then—what must we do?"
   Hein Huss held out his hands. "I do not know. I am Hein Huss, jinxman.
I watch Sam Salazar with fascination. He learns nothing, but he is either
too stupid or too intelligent to be discouraged. If this is the way to work
miracles, he will work them."
   Lord Faide rose to his feet. "I am deathly tired. I cannot think, I must
sleep. Tomorrow we will know more."
   Hein Huss left the trophy room, returned to the parapet. The ring of
First Folk seemed closer to the walls, almost within dart-range. Behind
them and across the moors stretched a long pale column of marching First
Folk. A little back from the keep a pile of white material began to grow,
larger and larger as the night proceeded.



   Hours passed, the sky lightened; the sun rose in the east. The First Folk
tramped the downs like ants, bringing long bars of hardened foam down
from the north, dropping them into piles around the keep, returning into
the north once more.
   Lord Faide came up on the parapet, haggard and unshaven. "What is
this? What do they do?"
  Bernard the sergeant responded. "They puzzle us all, my lord."
  "Hein Huss! What of the other keeps?"
  "They have armed and mounted; they approach cautiously."
  "Can you communicate our urgency?"
  "I can, and I have done so. I have only accentuated their caution."
  "Bah!" cried Lord Faide in disgust. "Warriors they call themselves!
Loyal and faithful allies!"
  "They know of your bitter experience," said Hein Huss. "They ask
themselves, reasonably enough, what they can accomplish which you who
are already here cannot do first."
  Lord Faide laughed sourly. "I have no answer for them. In the meantime
we must protect ourselves against the wasps. Armor is useless; they drive
us mad with mites. . . . Bernard!"
  "Yes, Lord Faide."
  "Have each of your men construct a frame two-feet square, fixed with a
short handle. To these frames should be sewed a net of heavy mesh. When
these frames are built we will sally forth, two soldiers to guard one
half-armored knight on foot."
   "In the meantime," said Hein Huss, "the First Folk proceed with their
plans."
  Lord Faide turned to watch. The First Folk came close up under the
walls carrying rods of hardened foam. "Bernard! Put your archers to work!
Aim for the heads!"
   Along the walls bowmen cocked their weapons. Darts spun down into
the First Folk. A few were affected, turned and staggered away; others
plucked away the bolts without concern. Another flight of bolts, a few
more First Folk were disabled. The others planted the rods in the moss,
exuded foam in great gushes, their back-flaps vigorously pumping air.
Other First Folk brought more rods, pushed them into the foam. Entirely
around the keep, close under the walls, extended the mound of foam. The
ring of First Folk now came close and all gushed foam; it bulked up swiftly.
More rods were brought, thrust into the foam, reinforcing and stiffening
the mass.
 "More darts!" barked Lord Faide. "Aim for the heads! Bernard—your
men, have they prepared the wasp nets?"
  "Not yet, Lord Faide. The project requires some little time."
  Lord Faide became silent. The foam, now ten feet high, rapidly piled
higher. Lord Faide turned to Hein Huss. "What do they hope to achieve?"
  Hein Huss shook his head. "For the moment I am uncertain."
   The first layer of foam had hardened; on top of this the First Folk
spewed another layer, reinforcing again with the rods, crisscrossing,
horizontal and vertical. Fifteen minutes later, when the second layer was
hard the First Folk emplaced and mounted rude ladders to raise a third
layer. Surrounding the keep now was a ring of foam thirty feet high and
forty feet thick at the base.
  "Look," said Hein Huss. He pointed up. The parasol roof overhanging
the walls ended only thirty feet above the foam. "A few more layers and
they will reach the roof."
  "So then?" asked Lord Faide. "The roof is as strong as the walls."
  "And we will be sealed within."
  Lord Faide studied the foam in the light of this new thought. Already
the First Folk, climbing laboriously up ladders along the outside face of
their wall of foam, were preparing to lay on a fourth layer. First—rods, stiff
and dry, then great gushes of white. Only twenty feet remained between
roof and foam.
  Lord Faide turned to the sergeant. "Prepare the men to sally forth."
  "What of the wasp nets, sir?"
  "Are they almost finished?"
  "Another ten minutes, sir."
  "Another ten minutes will see us smothering. We must force a passage
through the foam."
  Ten minutes passed, and fifteen. The First Folk created ramps behind
their wall: first, dozens of the rods, then foam, and on top, to distribute
the weight, reed mats.
  Bernard the sergeant reported to Lord Faide. "We are ready."
  "Good." Lord Faide descended into the courtyard. He faced the men,
gave them their orders. "Move quickly, but stay together; we must not lose
ourselves in the foam. As we proceed, slash ahead and to the sides. The
First Folk see through the foam; they have the advantage of us. When we
break through, we use the wasp nets. Two foot soldiers must guard each
knight. Remember, quickly through the foam, that we do not smother.
Open the gates."
   The gates slid back, the troops marched forth. They faced an unbroken
blank wall of foam. No enemy could be seen.
  Lord Faide waved his sword. "Into the foam." He strode forward,
pushed into the white mass, now crisp and brittle and harder than he had
bargained for. It resisted him; he cut and hacked. His troops joined him,
carving a way into the foam. First Folk appeared above them, crawling
carefully on the mats. Their back flaps puffed, pumped; foam issued from
their vents, falling in a cascade over the troops.
 Hein Huss sighed. He spoke to Apprentice Sam Salazar. "Now they
must retreat, otherwise they smother. If they fail to win through, we all
smother."
   Even as he spoke the foam, piling up swiftly, in places reached the roof.
Below, bellowing and cursing, Lord Faide backed out from under, wiped
his face clear. Once again, in desperation, he charged forward, trying at a
new spot.
  The foam was friable and cut easily, but the chunks detached still
blocked the opening. And again down tumbled a cascade of foam, covering
the soldiers.
  Lord Faide retreated, waved his men back into the keep. At the same
moment First Folk crawling on mats on the same level as the parapet over
the gate laid rods up from the foam to rest against the projecting edge of
the roof. They gushed foam; the view of the sky was slowly blocked from
the view of Hein Huss and Sam Salazar.
  "In an hour, perhaps two, we will die," said Hein Huss. "They have now
sealed us in. There are many men here in the keep, arid all will now
breathe deeply."
  Sam Salazar said nervously, "There is a possibility we might be able to
survive—or at least not smother."
  "Ah?" inquired Hein Huss with heavy sarcasm. "You plan to work a
miracle?"
  "If a miracle, the most trivial sort. I observed that water has no effect on
the foam, nor a number of other liquids: milk, spirits, wine, or caustic.
Vinegar, however, instantly dissolves the foam."
  "Aha," said Hein Huss. "We must inform Lord Faide."
  "Better that you do so," said Sam Salazar. "He will pay me no heed."



                                   XIII

   Half an hour passed. Light filtered into Faide Keep only as a dim gray
gloom. Air tasted flat, damp, and heavy. Out from the gates sallied the
troops. Each carried a crock, a jug, a skin, or a pan containing strong
vinegar.
  "Quickly now," called Lord Faide, "but careful! Spare the vinegar, don't
throw it wildly. In close formation now—forward."
  The soldiers approached the wall, threw ladles of vinegar ahead. The
foam crackled, melted.
   "Waste no vinegar," shouted Lord Faide. "Forward, quickly now; bring
forward the vinegar!"
  Minutes later they burst out upon the downs. The First Folk stared at
them, blinking.
  "Charge," croaked Lord Faide, his throat thick with fumes. "Mind now,
wasp nets! Two soldiers to each knight! Charge, double-quick. Kill the
white beasts."
  The men dashed ahead. Wasp tubes were leveled. "Halt!" yelled Lord
Faide. "Wasps!"
   The wasps came, wings rasping. Nets rose up; wasps struck with a thud.
Down went the nets; hard feet crushed the insects. The beetles and the
lizard-centipedes appeared, not so many as of the last evening, for a great
number had been killed. They darted forward, and a score of men died,
but the insects were soon hacked into chunks of reeking brown flesh.
Wasps flew, and some struck home; the agonies of the dying men were
unnerving. Presently the wasps likewise decreased in number, and soon
there were no more.
  The men faced the First Folk, armed only with thorn-swords and their
foam, which now came purple with rage.
   Lord Faide waved his sword; the men advanced and began to kill the
First Folk, by dozens, by hundreds.
  Hein Huss came forth and approached Lord Faide. "Call a halt."
  "A halt? Why? Now we kill these bestial things."
  "Far better not. Neither need kill the other. Now is the time to show
great wisdom."
  "They have besieged us, caught us in their traps, stung us with their
wasps! And you say halt?"
  "They nourish a grudge sixteen hundred years old. Best not to add
another one."
  Lord Faide stared at Hein Huss. "What do you propose?"
  "Peace between the two races, peace and cooperation."
  "Very well. No more traps, no more plantings, no more breeding of
deadly insects."
  "Call back your men. I will try." Lord Faide cried out, "Men, fall back,
Disengage." Reluctantly the troops drew back. Hein Huss approached the
huddled mass of purple-foaming First Folk. He waited a moment. They
watched him intently. He spoke in their language.
  "You have attacked Faide Keep; you have been defeated. You planned
well, but we have proved stronger. At this moment we can kill you. Then
we can go on to fire the forest, starting a hundred blazes. Some of the fires
you can control. Others not. We can destroy Wildwood. Some First Folk
may survive, to hide in the thickets and breed new plans to kill men. This
we do not want. Lord Faide has agreed to peace, if you likewise agree. This
means no more death traps. Men will freely approach and pass through
the forests. In your turn you may freely come out on the moss. Neither
race shall molest the other. Which do you choose? Extinction—or peace?"
  The purple foam no longer dribbled from the vents of the First Folk.
"We choose peace."
   "There must be no more wasps, beetles. The death traps must be
disarmed and never replaced."
  "We agree. In our turn we must be allowed freedom of the moss."
  "Agreed. Remove your dead and wounded, haul away the foam rods."
  Hein Huss returned to Lord Faide. "They have chosen peace."
  Lord Faide nodded. "Very well. It is for the best." He called to his men.
"Sheathe your weapons. We have won a great victory." He ruefully
surveyed Faide Keep, swathed in foam and invisible except for the parasol
roof. "A hundred barrels of vinegar will not be enough."
   Hein Huss looked off into the sky. "Your allies approach quickly. Their
jinxmen have told them of your victory."
  Lord Faide laughed his sour laugh. "To my allies will fall the task of
removing the foam from Faide Keep."



                                   XIV

   In the hall of Faide Keep, during the victory banquet, Lord Faide called
jovially across to Hein Huss. "Now, Head Jinxman, we must deal with
your apprentice, the idler and the waster Sam Salazar."
  "He is here, Lord Faide. Rise, Sam Salazar, take cognizance of the honor
being done you."
  Sam Salazar rose to his feet, bowed.
   Lord Faide proffered him a cup. "Drink, Sam Salazar, enjoy yourself. I
freely admit that your idiotic tinkerings saved the lives of us all. Sam
Salazar, we salute you, and thank you. Now, I trust that you will put
frivolity aside, apply yourself to your work, and learn honest jinxmanship.
When the time comes, I promise that you shall find a lifetime of
employment at Faide Keep."
  "Thank you," said Sam Salazar modestly. "However, I doubt if I will
become a jinxman."
  "No? You have other plans?"
  Sam Salazar stuttered, grew faintly pink in the face, then straightened
himself, and spoke as clearly and distinctly as he could. "I prefer to
continue what you call my frivolity. I hope I can persuade others to join
me."
  "Frivolity is always attractive," said Lord Faide. "No doubt you can find
other idlers and wasters, runaway farm boys, and the like."
  Sam Salazar said staunchly, "This frivolity might become serious.
Undoubtedly the ancients were barbarians. They used symbols to control
entities they were unable to understand. We are methodical and rational;
why can't we systematize and comprehend the ancient miracles?"
  "Well, why can't we?" asked Lord Faide. "Does anyone have an answer?"
  No one responded, although Isak Comandore hissed between his teeth
and shook his head.
  "I personally may never be able to work miracles; I suspect it is more
complicated than it seems," said Sam Salazar. "However, I hope that you
will arrange for a workshop where I and others who might share my views
can make a beginning. In this matter I have the encouragement and the
support of Head Jinxman Hein Huss."
   Lord Faide lifted his goblet. "Very well, Apprentice Sam Salazar.
Tonight I can refuse you nothing. You shall have exactly what you wish,
and good luck to you. Perhaps you will produce a miracle during my
lifetime."
   Isak Comandore said huskily to Hein Huss, "This is a sad event! It
signalizes intellectual anarchy, the degradation of jinxmanship, the
prostitution of logic. Novelty has a way of attracting youth; already I see
apprentices and spellbinders whispering in excitement. The jinxmen of
the future will be sorry affairs. How will they go about demon-possession?
With a cog, a gear, and a push-button. How will they cast a hoodoo? They
will find it easier to strike their victim with an axe."
  "Times change," said Hein Huss. "There is now the one rule of Faide on
Pangborn, and the keeps no longer need to employ us. Perhaps I will join
Sam Salazar in his workshop."
   "You depict a depressing future," said Isak Comandore with a sniff of
disgust.
  "There are many futures, some of which are undoubtedly depressing."
   Lord Faide raised his glass. "To the best of your many futures, Hein
Huss. Who knows? Sam Salazar may conjure a spaceship to lead us back
to home-planet."
   "Who knows?" said Hein Huss. He raised his goblet. "To the best of the
futures!"