shook:
"Goffanon! Goffanon!"
For sure enough the bulky figure who had rowed the boat was none other than the Sidhi dwarf, Goffanon of Hy-Breasail, and there was a glassy look in his eyes and his face was slack; but he spoke and said:
"Goffanon serves Calatin again."
' 'He has you in his power! Oh, I knew that I did not welcome that sail."
Then Corum said urgently: "Even you, Calatin, cannot survive on Ynys Scaith. The people here have enormous powers for the making of lethal illusions. Let us all return to your ship and sail away from here, there to settle our disputes in a pleasanter clime.’'
Calatin looked around him. He looked at the third figure in the boat who had not revealed his face but kept it thoroughly hidden in his hood. "I find nothing to say against this island," he said.
"It is because you do not see it for what it is," Corum insisted. "Make a bargain, Calatin, to take us back to your ship ..."
Calatin shook his head and smoothed his grey beard.' I think not. I am tired of sailing. I have never been at my best while crossing water. We shall disembark."
"I warn you, wizard," grumbled Ilbrec, "that the moment you set foot on this land, you are as doomed as all the other wretches who preceded you."
"We shall see. Goffanon, drag the boat high onto the beach so that I shall not wet my garments when I leave the boat."
Obediently Goffanon clambered from the boat and began to haul it through the water and thence onto the beach while Corum and Ilbrec watched helplessly.
Then Calatin stepped elegantly onto the beach and looked around him, stretching his arms so that the surcoat, covered all over in occult symbols, was revealed. He took a deep, appreciative breath of the tainted air, then snapped his fingers, whereupon the other figure, still completely muffled and unrecognizable, rose from the seat in the stern and joined Calatin and Goffanon.
For a moment they stood there, confronting one another with the boat separating them.
"I hope that you are fugitives," said Ilbrec at last. "From the Mabden victory over the Fhoi Myore."
And Calatin smiled and hid his lips with his bejewelled hand.
"Are your Fhoi Myore masters all dead, then ..." Corum said aggressively, but without much conviction.
"The Fhoi Myore are not my masters, Corum," replied Calatin chidingly, softly. "They are my sometime allies. We work to our mutual advantage.''
"You speak as if they are still alive."
"Still alive, aye. They are alive, Corum." Calatin voiced these words in the same controlled tone, his blue eyes full of humor and malice. "And triumphant. And victorious. They hold Caer Llud and now pursue what remains of the Mabden army. Soon all the Mabden will be dead, I fear."
"So we did not win at Caer Llud?"
"Did you expect that you could? Shall I tell you some of those who died there?"
Corum shook his head, turning away, but then he groaned. "Very well, wizard, who died?"
"King Mannach died there, his own battle-standard driven through his body. You knew King Mannach, I believe."
"I knew him. I honor him now."
"And King Fiachadh? Another friend?"
"What of King Fiachadh?"
"He was a prisoner for a few hours, I understand, of my lady Goim."
"Of Goim?" Corum shuddered. He recalled the stories he had heard of the female Fhoi Myore's horrible tastes. "And his son, Young Fean?"
"He shared his father's fate, I believe."
"What others?" whispered Corum.
"Oh, there were many. Many of the Mabden's heroes."
Goffanon said in distant, unnatural tones:
"Ayan the Hairy-handed's friend, the Branch Hero, was torn to pieces by the Hounds of Kerenos, as were Fionha and Cahleen, the warrior-maidens . . .
' 'And of the Five Knights of Eralskee only the youngest remains alive, if the cold has not taken him by now. He fled on a horse, pursued by Prince Gaynor and the People of the Pines," continued Calatin with relish. "And King Daffyn lost his legs and froze to death not a mile from Caer Llud—he had crawled that mile. We saw his body
"Goffanon! Goffanon!"
For sure enough the bulky figure who had rowed the boat was none other than the Sidhi dwarf, Goffanon of Hy-Breasail, and there was a glassy look in his eyes and his face was slack; but he spoke and said:
"Goffanon serves Calatin again."
' 'He has you in his power! Oh, I knew that I did not welcome that sail."
Then Corum said urgently: "Even you, Calatin, cannot survive on Ynys Scaith. The people here have enormous powers for the making of lethal illusions. Let us all return to your ship and sail away from here, there to settle our disputes in a pleasanter clime.’'
Calatin looked around him. He looked at the third figure in the boat who had not revealed his face but kept it thoroughly hidden in his hood. "I find nothing to say against this island," he said.
"It is because you do not see it for what it is," Corum insisted. "Make a bargain, Calatin, to take us back to your ship ..."
Calatin shook his head and smoothed his grey beard.' I think not. I am tired of sailing. I have never been at my best while crossing water. We shall disembark."
"I warn you, wizard," grumbled Ilbrec, "that the moment you set foot on this land, you are as doomed as all the other wretches who preceded you."
"We shall see. Goffanon, drag the boat high onto the beach so that I shall not wet my garments when I leave the boat."
Obediently Goffanon clambered from the boat and began to haul it through the water and thence onto the beach while Corum and Ilbrec watched helplessly.
Then Calatin stepped elegantly onto the beach and looked around him, stretching his arms so that the surcoat, covered all over in occult symbols, was revealed. He took a deep, appreciative breath of the tainted air, then snapped his fingers, whereupon the other figure, still completely muffled and unrecognizable, rose from the seat in the stern and joined Calatin and Goffanon.
For a moment they stood there, confronting one another with the boat separating them.
"I hope that you are fugitives," said Ilbrec at last. "From the Mabden victory over the Fhoi Myore."
And Calatin smiled and hid his lips with his bejewelled hand.
"Are your Fhoi Myore masters all dead, then ..." Corum said aggressively, but without much conviction.
"The Fhoi Myore are not my masters, Corum," replied Calatin chidingly, softly. "They are my sometime allies. We work to our mutual advantage.''
"You speak as if they are still alive."
"Still alive, aye. They are alive, Corum." Calatin voiced these words in the same controlled tone, his blue eyes full of humor and malice. "And triumphant. And victorious. They hold Caer Llud and now pursue what remains of the Mabden army. Soon all the Mabden will be dead, I fear."
"So we did not win at Caer Llud?"
"Did you expect that you could? Shall I tell you some of those who died there?"
Corum shook his head, turning away, but then he groaned. "Very well, wizard, who died?"
"King Mannach died there, his own battle-standard driven through his body. You knew King Mannach, I believe."
"I knew him. I honor him now."
"And King Fiachadh? Another friend?"
"What of King Fiachadh?"
"He was a prisoner for a few hours, I understand, of my lady Goim."
"Of Goim?" Corum shuddered. He recalled the stories he had heard of the female Fhoi Myore's horrible tastes. "And his son, Young Fean?"
"He shared his father's fate, I believe."
"What others?" whispered Corum.
"Oh, there were many. Many of the Mabden's heroes."
Goffanon said in distant, unnatural tones:
"Ayan the Hairy-handed's friend, the Branch Hero, was torn to pieces by the Hounds of Kerenos, as were Fionha and Cahleen, the warrior-maidens . . .
' 'And of the Five Knights of Eralskee only the youngest remains alive, if the cold has not taken him by now. He fled on a horse, pursued by Prince Gaynor and the People of the Pines," continued Calatin with relish. "And King Daffyn lost his legs and froze to death not a mile from Caer Llud—he had crawled that mile. We saw his body
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