impression of a greater maturity in the shadow of the visor was a very deep tan and little sun wrinkles around the outer corners of Neville-Smythe's blue eyes. Also, a white scar seamed his lower right cheek down to the jawline, adding a veteran-like touch to his appearance.
"Typewriterâ¦" Sir Brian was muttering to himself. "Typewriterâ¦"
"Aâlocal beast, rather like a griffin," said Jim, hurriedly. "We have a lot of them in RiveroakâThat's in America, a land over the sea to the west. You may not have heard of it."
"Damme if I have," replied Sir Brian, candidly. "Was it there that you were ensorceled?"
"Well, yes and no," said Jim, cautiously. "I was transported to this land of yours by magic, as was the ladyâAngela. Then when I woke, I found myself bedragoned."
"Were you, now?" Sir Brian had bright-blue eyes, amazingly innocent-looking in comparison to his tanned and scarred face. "Angela, eh? Fair name, that."
"As she herself is fair," answered Jim, gravely.
"You don't say, Sir James! Perhaps we ought to have a bit of a go on behalf of our respective ladies while we've got the chance, before we get to know each other too well for it."
Jim swallowed.
"On the other hand," he said, quickly, "you were telling me about your lady. What was her name?"
"The Lady Geronde." Sir Brian began to fumble about his saddlebags. "I've got her favor here, someplace. Wear it on my arm when I expect to run into someone, of course, but when one's out hunting dragonsâHalf a moment. It must be right here under my handâ¦"
"Why don't you just tell me what it's like?" Jim suggested.
"Oh, well." Sir Brian gave up his search. "It's a kerchief, you know. Monogrammed. 'G.d'C The Lady Geronde Isabel de Chaney, presently chatelaine of the Castle Malvern. Her father, Sir Orrin, went off to the wars against the Eastern heathen three years ago Whitsuntide, less five days; and there's been no word of him since. If it weren't for that and the fact that I have to do all this scurrying around the countryside, winning worship and so forth, we'd have been married by this time."
"Why do you do it, then? Go riding around the countryside, I mean?" Jim asked, curiously.
"Good Lord, Geronde insists on it! Once we're married, she wants me to come home safe, you know."
Jim did not follow this argumental development in the conversation. He said so.
"Why, how do you people manage things, overseas?" demanded Sir Brian. "Once I'm married, with my own lands, I've got to produce my own levy of men if my lord or the King calls on me for service in war. If I don't have a name, I'll be forced to march out with a raggedy-breeched bunch of bumpkins and clodpoles out of my own fields, who'll like as not take to their heels at the first sight of trained men-at-arms, and probably leave me no choice but to die on the spot for honor's sake, if not for other reasons. On the other hand, if I'm known about as a warrior of some worth, I'll have good, experienced men coming and wanting to serve under my banner, because they know, do you see, that I'll take good care of them. And, by the same token, they'll take good care of me."
"Oh," said Jim.
"And besides," went on Sir Brian, ruminatively, "this chasing about does keep one in shape. Though I must say the mere-dragons we have around here don't give you much of a workout. That's why I had high hopes of you there for a moment. Doesn't do to practice with the neighbors, you know. Too much chance of a lost temper and a feud resulting."
"I see," said Jim.
"However," said Sir Brian, brightening, "all's well that ends well. And this quest of yours to rescue your lady can certainly be worth a dozen mere-dragons to my reputation. Though, as I say, I'll have to get permission from Geronde, first. Happily, Castle Malvern's only a day and a half's ride from here. Long days, though; so hadn't we better be moving?"
"Moving?"
"Traveling. Covering distance, Sir James!" Brian squinted up at the sun. "We've
"Typewriterâ¦" Sir Brian was muttering to himself. "Typewriterâ¦"
"Aâlocal beast, rather like a griffin," said Jim, hurriedly. "We have a lot of them in RiveroakâThat's in America, a land over the sea to the west. You may not have heard of it."
"Damme if I have," replied Sir Brian, candidly. "Was it there that you were ensorceled?"
"Well, yes and no," said Jim, cautiously. "I was transported to this land of yours by magic, as was the ladyâAngela. Then when I woke, I found myself bedragoned."
"Were you, now?" Sir Brian had bright-blue eyes, amazingly innocent-looking in comparison to his tanned and scarred face. "Angela, eh? Fair name, that."
"As she herself is fair," answered Jim, gravely.
"You don't say, Sir James! Perhaps we ought to have a bit of a go on behalf of our respective ladies while we've got the chance, before we get to know each other too well for it."
Jim swallowed.
"On the other hand," he said, quickly, "you were telling me about your lady. What was her name?"
"The Lady Geronde." Sir Brian began to fumble about his saddlebags. "I've got her favor here, someplace. Wear it on my arm when I expect to run into someone, of course, but when one's out hunting dragonsâHalf a moment. It must be right here under my handâ¦"
"Why don't you just tell me what it's like?" Jim suggested.
"Oh, well." Sir Brian gave up his search. "It's a kerchief, you know. Monogrammed. 'G.d'C The Lady Geronde Isabel de Chaney, presently chatelaine of the Castle Malvern. Her father, Sir Orrin, went off to the wars against the Eastern heathen three years ago Whitsuntide, less five days; and there's been no word of him since. If it weren't for that and the fact that I have to do all this scurrying around the countryside, winning worship and so forth, we'd have been married by this time."
"Why do you do it, then? Go riding around the countryside, I mean?" Jim asked, curiously.
"Good Lord, Geronde insists on it! Once we're married, she wants me to come home safe, you know."
Jim did not follow this argumental development in the conversation. He said so.
"Why, how do you people manage things, overseas?" demanded Sir Brian. "Once I'm married, with my own lands, I've got to produce my own levy of men if my lord or the King calls on me for service in war. If I don't have a name, I'll be forced to march out with a raggedy-breeched bunch of bumpkins and clodpoles out of my own fields, who'll like as not take to their heels at the first sight of trained men-at-arms, and probably leave me no choice but to die on the spot for honor's sake, if not for other reasons. On the other hand, if I'm known about as a warrior of some worth, I'll have good, experienced men coming and wanting to serve under my banner, because they know, do you see, that I'll take good care of them. And, by the same token, they'll take good care of me."
"Oh," said Jim.
"And besides," went on Sir Brian, ruminatively, "this chasing about does keep one in shape. Though I must say the mere-dragons we have around here don't give you much of a workout. That's why I had high hopes of you there for a moment. Doesn't do to practice with the neighbors, you know. Too much chance of a lost temper and a feud resulting."
"I see," said Jim.
"However," said Sir Brian, brightening, "all's well that ends well. And this quest of yours to rescue your lady can certainly be worth a dozen mere-dragons to my reputation. Though, as I say, I'll have to get permission from Geronde, first. Happily, Castle Malvern's only a day and a half's ride from here. Long days, though; so hadn't we better be moving?"
"Moving?"
"Traveling. Covering distance, Sir James!" Brian squinted up at the sun. "We've
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