“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously. “All the things you’re carrying are out from under cover, all over your back and on the ground, here.”

The sumpter horse looked at him disgustedly. Human or hobgoblin, as far as she was concerned they were all the same thing-nuisances. Everyone not a horse was the same thing; and now that she stopped to think of it, she could not think of a single horse that was any better. Oh, those two stallions over there might have their points if she was interested. But she wasn’t.

“I think it was the Old Magic that brought you out,” said the voice of the Questing Beast; and Jim looked to his left to see the QB also beside him there. My Lady Queen almost had you prisoner at her pleasure. You took a great chance matching words with her as you did. Look at the trees, Sir James.”

Jim looked, and saw each one in view was stretching out its lower branches, downward and toward him. He looked further around him, turning completely about.

“Oh, m’Lord!” said Hob, staring at the trees, now. “They’re all honoring you.”

“Why?” Jim turned to the QB.

“We can never be sure,” said that individual. “You have either done something noble, or have proved to be noble in some way.”

“But I haven’t!” said Jim.

“The forest is never wrong,” said the QB in a slightly frosty tone. “There is magick in all trees. In Lyonesse there are three powerful magicks. One is the Old Magic. The trees are the second, and the beasts the third.”

Jim stared at him.

“But people cut down trees and burn them for firewood,” he said. “And the beasts, the deer and others particularly, are hunted by people, kept, killed, and eaten.”

“People also kill each other. Knights fight. Old trees overshadow and starve young trees for sunlight so they die. The beasts prey upon and eat each other. Yet, as a kind, like unto like, they feel together. What is the difference, except the difference of feeling in one way of magick from another’s?”

“Well...” said Jim; and found that he had no words ready to his tongue.

“Of course,” went on the QB, “in magick there is also one more, who is Merlin. But he no longer uses his magick now; and would not, I think, even to save Lyonesse. But the trees altogether are not to be thought less of. When our great Arthur was a boy, his royal lineage a secret even from him, the trees would reach down to him as he passed; and if he stood before a fire, the smoke would curve toward him before going upward.”

“You see there, my Lord?” said Hob. “The smoke’s never wrong. It never makes a mistake!”

“James,” said Brian, deeply and solemnly, “it is like you to so hide your true nobility that you do not realize it yourself. I have always been impressed by that in you.”

There was no point in explaining how wrong they all were, thought Jim hopelessly. He would never convince them, anyway.

“Well, on other subjects,” he said, to get them all on to something else, “I’m very grateful to the trees if they’re the ones who rescued us from Northgales’s castle just now. How can I thank them?”

“They are already thanked by your thinking of it,” said the QB. “But I, also, am glad you are safely away from there and from any other of the Witch Queens, who are each very dangerous and unpredictable-even to each other. It is strange, but the Old Magic has never seemed to set limits upon them.”

“Trees, and the Old Magic-how do they divide up their powers between them? I mean-which has what power?”

“There is always power in trees and growing things, the running waters, the earth and rock, Sir James. The Old Magic is apart from those others and all that to them belong; but in its own way it fits with and works with them.”

“But you think,” said Jim, “it wasn’t the Old Magic but the trees that got us out of that castle just now?”

“Does it matter?” asked the QB.

“Yes, it does matter,” said Jim. “Brian and I came here hoping to join whoever might be willing to fight the Dark Powers. But we can’t seem to find any.”

“Do not think of the Old Magic as an ally, then. Accept its presence, only,” said the QB.

“You’re not helping,” said Jim.

“It is better,” said the QB, “to know you are unholden, than hope for help when there is none. But perhaps I can be of more aid if we talk further. What did you think to gain from the Queen of Northgales?”

“You’d said earlier none of the Queens had forces of fighting men. I wanted to find out how they were able to keep their power without them.”

“Lyonesse lives because Arthur lived and because he and his Knights live on here, unforgotten. To this the Old Magic is agreed, and the trees and creatures also. Each in their own place. If fighting is to be done, it is the Knights’ part to defend their ground; which is the ground of creatures and trees as well.”

“Seems a little one-sided to me,” said Jim.

“Have you never known a time when your last friend had been slain beside you; and you found yourself alone?”

There was a little silence. Brian broke it.

“Ah, well,” he said. “We could have saved ourselves a visit to Northgales by asking the Lord QB here instead. But we did not know that-and, indeed, I cannot quarrel with his words that Arthur’s Knights should defend the land they hold. But that they should do so alone, though surrounded by magick that can, however, not fight by their side... it seems neither fair nor right.”

“It seems as if that’s how things are, here,” said Jim. “But I wanted to see Northgales, anyway, to see what other Witch Queens were like.”

“I must confess I wanted that, too-and damned odd this one was! But we missed an interesting lance meeting with that champion of hers.”

“Just as well we missed him,” answered Jim. “But I admit it was the talk I wanted most. Only, I also wanted the Queen to want it as much as I did.”

“James, you should have told me.”

“I know I should, Brian; but there wasn’t a chance.” And just as well there hadn’t been, thought Jim. Brian was the last person to play a part successfully. His instinctive habit of being straightforward about everything would give him away every time.

“But after all, we learned nothing from her.”

“Not exactly,” Jim said. “I learned something about the Queen herself. She let us in, hoping to learn what we knew about the Dark Powers; not only to check on what Morgan le Fay must have told her, but gambling she’d pick up something that would give her an edge over Morgan and the other Queens.”

“How can you be sure of that, Sir James?” asked the QB.

“The fact she really didn’t want us to leave, even when she told us to go. That’s how I could force her to order us to stay. Once she did that, she’d effectively admitted she was interested in what we could tell her about the Powers. When I didn’t give her much, she got ready to play rough. She was hoping one of us would help her up and be weakened enough by her heat-stealing so she’d have an excuse to keep us with her in the castle and work on us some more. She misjudged the way we stand by Hob.”

“Certainly, her request for aid from you in her own house was unlikely enough,” said the QB. “Perhaps she thinks you have a magick which will work against that of the Dark Powers?”

Jim became aware he was frowning,- and stopped doing it.

“Oh, I don’t think she does,” he said, sounding as confident as he could. “I don’t believe the Dark Powers have any magic at all-in the sense we use the word. But also I have to think they’re immune to magic, as we know it. Our magickians in the world above have always fought them off by guile, or by defeating their creatures, instead of any other way. If magic worked against the Powers, I’m sure the Collegiate of Magickians would have used it before this. No, our magic can’t touch them; but their magic won’t touch us directly, either. They’ve got to use their monsters or human allies to take anything by physical force.”

“Then you are telling me they must have fighters to take our Lyonesse?” said the QB.

“That’s right. They’ll have to have a fighting force, men of some kind. I suppose Morgan could contribute the knight I met in the Dedale Woods-and some others; and Northgales could contribute that knight who was ready to fight me, and perhaps others, but that’s not putting together much of a force compared to Arthur’s Knights and their male Descendants. It beats me how the Powers are planning to do it.”

“Sir Dinedan-the current Descendant of the Sir Dinedan, that is-who we met the first time through Lyonesse-“ volunteered Brian, “seemed a goodly knight to oppose villains... though somewhat given to fits of weakness and falling from his saddle.”

“But why fighting men, especially?” said the QB dubiously.

“How else?” exploded Brian impatiently. “Only we can hold what we win. Ogres could not. Worms could not. Harpies could not. It takes unending wit and effort to hold. Le fort main, our Norman forebears called it when they came to England- ‘the strong hand’-it is continually needed to keep what you have gained against the rising of those conquered, or attempts by others to wrest it from you!”

“I must bow to your superior wisdom,” said the QB unhappily. “And if that is so, we have the Knights and their families-those that have them. And seemingly the Dark Powers have none. But then, why the attention to you by the Witch Queens?

Why would the Queens help the Dark Powers here in Lyonesse at all?”

“Perhaps the Queens think we know where the Powers are going to get the army that’s needed, and they don’t,” said Jim. “As for our concern, the Powers have never been known to show up or try to influence anything unless they had some way of getting what they wanted-“

“Army,” echoed the QB. “You are speaking then of a host of foemen?”

“Yes.” Jim was aware of a sudden chill in the back of his mind. If what he had just said always held true, why had the Dark Powers appeared at Malencontri as they had? To frighten him and his friends off from helping Dafydd and getting involved in Lyonesse? If so, it hadn’t worked.

Because Jim, Brian, and Dafydd had won against them before? Unanswerable questions. The Powers did not think like humans-if they thought in any real sense at all. They might be merely a great, complicated bundle of reflexes.

Think about that later, he told himself firmly. The QB was talking again.

“-for Lyonesse, we can add to the Original Knights not merely their Descendants, knights themselves, like King Pellinore’s three famous sons, but as well many of the good creatures that live in our land. True, opposing them could be some of villainous breed from the borderlands between us and the Drowned Land-like those giant, black-furred, club-carrying creatures you were about to be assaulted by on your first visit here, had I not come by in time to order them back. But it is hard for me to believe that magick... particularly the Old Magick...”

His voice trailed off.

“... But I must take your advice on it,” he went on, after a second, “since you are those who have fought and won against the Dark Powers before. But I must confess the idea of a host to oppose our Knights and conquer Lyonesse like some ordinary kingdom never occurred to me. How would such a host come here-and without our knowing of it?”

“That’s a question,” said Jim. “But I’ve been thinking about it; and there’d be one way, at least. Remember when the Gnarly King that was had captured my young ward, he was hand in glove with Agatha Falon, half sister to my ward and someone out to get rid of the boy so that she, not he, could inherit the family wealth.”

“What has that to do with this, James?” Brian frowned at him.

“Just that Gnarly messengers went back and forth between Agatha at Windsor Court and the Gnarly King. I saw one of them in a dungeon at Court. He’d come, apparently, by digging a tunnel to the dungeon from Gnarlyland-they’re great diggers...”

“That is true,” said the QB. “We know that much of them.”

“All right,” went on Jim. “So this one supposedly tunneled from Gnarlyland to the Court. But anyone with any knowledge of magic at all knows neither the Drowned Land nor Gnarlyland, nor Lyonesse, can be simply dug to from our land above. Somewhere along that tunnel, and probably not too far along, there had to be magic involved to make the far end come out in a place that otherwise couldn’t be reached.”

“But is there indeed such magick?” said the QB. “In some hundreds of years I have never heard any, Merlin or other, speak of it.”

“There is,” said Jim. “There’s something called a Witches’ Gate-you remember, Brian, how I mentioned that when we went from the sea into the Drowned Land?”

“You did, James. But you said it was nothing of concern-something simple, I believe you called it, for witches only.”

“Right. It was developed by witches originally to let them into the houses of other people they wanted to reach. It’s simply a little spell that can turn things inside out; so that the witch, instead of being outside the wall of a house, is then inside it. But it could be used just as well to move to such places as Gnarlyland, or the Drowned Land-to some spot inside them.”

“James, is this indeed true? For I have never heard of it happening to no man, woman, house, nor other what-have-you.”

“It is, Brian. Believe me. It’s just that for some centuries now it’s been all but forgotten; because any who hold to a faith, who suspect witchery coming against them, are able-by wearing or putting the symbol of their faith between them and the witch-to bar that small piece of magic from working. Any faith honestly held, any true symbol of it, blocks the powers of a witch as effectively as a shield blocks the spear strike or sword blow.”

“But could it be used to bring in many men against us?” asked the QB.

“I think it could,” said Jim. “But whether it could bring a large number in all at once, or just keep importing one or two at a time, I don’t know. I’m only an apprentice magician, remember, and I’ve only picked up a few scraps of knowledge about Witchery. But an accomplished practitioner in the Art ought to be able to set up such a thing; and once set up in a particular spot, keep it in operation there, bringing in their men as they need. And certainly Morgan le Fay is accomplished, after all these hundreds of years of being a Witch Queen.”

The QB shook his head again.

“It does seem wise, as you say,” he said. “I can ask both the trees and the animals. But time means nothing to them outside of the present moment. We might not hear back from them for weeks, after it is found. But in any case, Queen Morgan le Fay may already know of such a host to use this strong hand you spoke of; and if she does, she is already before us. But how she found them I cannot guess.”

“I don’t think Morgan would have gathered them,” said Jim; “though she may have helped whoever did. Most likely, the Dark Powers were hand-in-hand with whoever did it. The danger is, though, that they’re already here.”

“These Powers ordered these men here?”

“No. They can’t directly control humans. The best they can do is offer someone bait, or a bribe of one kind or another, to get whoever it is to work for them; then he or she locates men who will work without caring about the consequences.

That’s why I think their bait-taker in this case is Morgan. Who else could call together an army to Lyonesse?”

“No one,” said the QB promptly. “No one but our great King Arthur. But he would never raise a host to fight against his own Knights and this land. In any case he is not here-if he were, all Lyonesse would know it.”

Jim shook his head at this.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The people of the Drowned Land, a land next door that Lyonesse ordinarily has nothing to do with, knew the Dark Powers were trying this. Even our own magicians in the land above know about it-that’s why we’re here, Brian and I. The Dark Powers just have to have that host, someplace; and someone in Lyonesse has to know where they are and how they were gathered. If it’s not Morgan who’s gathering one for the Powers, then who?”

He looked hard at the QB.

“It’s true-I can think of none other,” the QB said. “But it may be that answer to the whole matter is beyond us. It may be that the time of fire is on Lyonesse, when it will sink forever back deep under the sea, to be known no more. But it has always been believed that day would only come when Arthur and all of us who knew him are forgotten by those in the world above, where History lives.” He stopped for a moment, then went on.

“But I would caution you, Sir James, about asking such questions as you have just asked, here in Lyonesse. You, Sir Brian, and the small hobgoblin, I think, know nothing of how you escaped from the Queen of Northgales’s castle. Best, perhaps, I tell you, after all. I did not plan to, since speaking of the Old Magic too much can be perilous.”

There had been a change in his tone of voice as he spoke; and he was looking very steadily and hard at Jim. .

Jim looked up, instinctively. So did Brian and Hob-and so, startlingly, did the horses.

“I don’t remember ever seeing one,” said Jim.

“It would be strange if you had, for centuries have gone by, without one appearing. But there was one came into view above the castle of Northgales, but a short time ago; and when such a cloud comes, if it covers the sun, then for the time that the sun is hidden, darkness holds Lyonesse-a dark as of the night in which you spoke to Merlin.”

There was no good reason why a shiver should run down Jim’s spine, but one did; and he found himself chilling all over as he had chilled holding Hob and warming him back to life.

“When that cloud came, and covered the sun, there was the darkness I speak of-and in that particular darkness you, Sir Brian, the Hob, your horses, and all they carried left the castle in less than the thought of a breath, to find yourself here where you are now.”

Jim shook off the shiver.

“Why tell us this just because I wondered who else besides Morgan le Fay could raise an army?” he asked.

“I tell you to remind you that the Old Magic is powerful beyond imagining; and always with us. I said it only to warn you, because such a cloud is not likely to be seen again in your lifetime...”

His sibilant voice died. He lifted his slit-pupiled eyes once more to the sky. The rest of them looked with him.

A small, harmless-looking, fluffy cloud was over their heads, moving toward Lyonesse’s sun. As they watched, it touched that white star, eating into it as the moon eats away the sun during an eclipse of earth’s star. Rapidly, the light dimmed; until suddenly it was gone completely and each of them stood isolated in blackness.

They were dressed in tunics and tight leather leggings such as Jim and Brian were used to see Dafydd wearing, each man in solid blue, green, or brown clothing, their talking now interrupted by discovery of the presence of Jim and the others. They stared at Jim and these other new arrivals; and Jim, his own eyes all but blinded by the comparative brilliance of the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, and the gold of the sun overhead, stared back at them. But one among them stared only briefly before starting with long strides toward the newcomers; and he was Dafydd.

“It’s all right... all right...” Jim heard Hob’s small, high voice behind him, saying; and he looked over his shoulder to see the tiny hobgoblin stroking the scaly neck of the QB. The latter seemed to have grown half again as large as usual, suddenly, as people and many higher mammals do when ready to fight-drawing themselves up, expanding their lungs, and bristling whatever hair they possessed.

Hob went on talking softly, steadily, to the QB, stroking the long neck over and over again. while the QB seemingly unaware of the hobgoblin, arched that same neck, his narrow tongue flickering in and out of his half-open mouth, which now showed wickedly curved fangs.

“It is wrong for me to be here...” the QB was hissing. “Only one villainously against the Legends would come to this place...”

“James! Brian!” said Dafydd sharply, stopping in front of them. This was the other Dafydd speaking-the one who was a Prince in this Drowned Land, rather than the ordinary archer of the land above. He was still the friend they knew, but everything-including his way of speaking-was different, more formal, commanding. “What do you here-and with this-“

He broke off suddenly.

“QB!” he said. “You? Here in-“ He broke off; and-being recognized, the QB abruptly recognized Dafydd from his last time in Lyonesse, on the trip with Jim and Brian. His back flattened somewhat, his fangs became less prominent. “I crave your indulgence, my Lord Questing Beast,” Dafydd went on, “-if I may call you so?”

“You may, of course.” The QB was still not fully at ease. He still had a tendency to hiss the letter’s when he spoke. “I am indeed a Lord of Lyonesse by virtue of my being mentioned in the Legends of our King.”

The hissing faded out, however, as he spoke. He had gone back almost to his ordinary size and tone of voice, and with the closing of his mouth the wicked fangs now disappeared; but he was still tense.

“However, all call me the QB, and I prefer it so.”

“Then with your indulgence I will do so-indeed, it makes matters somewhat easier. And, James, and Brian, will you both forgive me if I also address you before our people here simply as Sir James? Here in the Drowned Land, the title of Lord is only for our King-except in such instance as the QB here, who is a special case. Many of our people recognize a word or two of English; and in a moment I must name you to my cousins and friends; and to our new young King, the one surviving son of our King who has now died. The boy is young to take the throne, but there can be no other choice.”

“Was it not said of that King we saw you with on our last trip, all his children were dead?” Brian said.

“All but this youngest. He has been kept safely hidden. His death was announced, for that he was so young and there has been dissension between the Colors. Come, let me take you to him. I am his Regent. I and the other loyal Leaders have met here urgently to decide what to do next-I have much to tell you, but no time to do it now. I must also make you known to the Leaders-of-Colors-there is no word for their authority in English-none even in Wales in the land above. Think of them as each speaking for something like a clan where all wear a certain color to their clothes.”

This last sentence came out of Dafydd in a clear, carrying voice. It was obvious to Jim that he had said it as much for the information of the men with him, who understood English, as to Brian and Jim. For once, it was Brian who answered first to deal with the situation.

“This is your land,” Brian said. “We are visitors. Your ways shall be our ways while we are here.”

“Then I will now name you to my cousins and friends; and to our new young King, for whom I am Regent,” Dafydd went on, in the same carrying tones. He lowered his voice abruptly to a level for Jim’s and Brian’s ears alone. “All the Leaders here are of clans loyal to him; and we are met to decide what to do next; for-“

He raised his voice once more. “-our land is at war with itself over who shall sit on the throne in this dangerous time.”

Jim, Brian, and the QB were all silent. Even Hob had stopped murmuring comforting words to the QB and stood motionless, with the motionless horses.

“So, James, Brian, QB-may I beg your indulgence to follow me back to the gathering and stand with me; and that there you stay silent, unless it is necessary to declare yourself one way or another. In that case, I would hope that you would follow me in all I say and do. Is that agreeable to you?”

Brian looked at Jim. Hob looked at Jim. To his surprise, even the QB looked at him, waiting.

“Count on us,” said Jim, out of a throat that had become a bit tense in recent minutes, itself. He did not like blind promises; and if it had not been Dafydd ap Hywel who was asking now, his instinct would have been to refuse.

Dafydd turned and strode off, back toward the waiting group of men before the tent. The rest of them followed.

“Gentlemen!” he said, in a short, sharp voice Jim had never heard him use before. All those standing there, who had been gazing at the sudden new arrivals, turned their attention back to the tall man in sky-blue.

But now Dafydd, back with the Drowned Landers, was giving all his attention to a boy among them, who seemed no more than thirteen years old, and had been unnoticed by Jim among the grown men surrounding him. He wore the same kind of clothes as the others, but his were colored all the shades Jim could see on the men present, as well as some shades not otherwise represented. Black and white both-for two-were not there.

“Sire,” said Dafydd to the boy, in English, “may I name to you Sir James Eckert, Baron de Malencontri, and Sir Brian Neville-Smythe of Castle Smythe, both from the land above? Both blooded friends of mine, and trustworthy as knights are said to be, but seldom are. Also, may I name to you the Lord Questing Beast of our neighboring land of Lyonesse, also a friend. He is one at arms with us and these two knights in the matter of the shadows of the Dark Powers we have been feeling over our lands; and which some of us here have blamed for the unhappy time that has come upon our own kingdom.”

“I am pleasured to know them,” answered the young King-unexpectedly, also in fluent English.

“Now,” said Dafydd, “I will tell those with us in our own language what the Lord King and I said in yours.”

He turned to those watching, and spoke. Dafydd had always had a soft, lilting way of speaking, to Jim’s ear. But when he spoke the ancient tongue of his ancestors now, it became different. The lilt was still there, but it was as if each word had been edged with steel. But that difference could be thought about later. The important matter was that Jim did not understand a word of it.

Oh, fine, he thought; then instantly realized that there was no problem, since he was no longer in Lyonesse. Morgan le Fay could neither see nor touch him here. He could safely work his magic inside his ward, and then open the ward to let that out to be effective in this land. He had learned the magical trick to understanding strange languages sometime since-concepting what he could hear-not the words spoken, but the meaning in the words just before they were uttered.

He made it so now; and started understanding.

The tight group of men listened with noncommittal eyes as Dafydd continued to speak, only occasionally turning to stare at the QB, Jim, and Brian-but with something less than welcome... but Jim became conscious he was missing the thread of Dafydd’s speech.

“-The small Natural upon their horse of baggage,” wound up Dafydd, as Jim heard in translation, “is the hobgoblin of Sir James’s castle; and for all his small size, courageous and of loyalty beyond testing.”

They ignored Hob.

“You are welcome, messires,” said the boy, himself speaking in the tongue of the Drowned Land, in a high, clear voice, looking at the men before them. “Welcome, Lord Questing Beast. You are all doubly welcome if you have come to aid our cause.”

“I’m afraid, Sire,” said Jim, in the only language available to him, and with the first words that came to his mind, “we came for a number of reasons. But without going into those, all else that concerns us most certainly can’t succeed unless your cause does also; so our aim, like yours and that of these gentlemen here, is to make things safe and right once more, both here and in Lyonesse.”

“Kindly said,” answered the boy; this time back in English and with what struck Jim as remarkable composure for someone his age. But, having said that much, he spoke no more and looked up at Dafydd’s tall form.

“Sire,” said Dafydd, “it would probably be best if, in spite of the urgency of the moment, I should take a small time to discover the details of what brought my friends to us; and this will be best done if I and they step aside. It will be a short interruption, only, I promise you and these gentlemen, who have traveled both far and fast to be with you now. Let me ask those of you-“

He broke off and looked around at the circular group of men in the different colors of clothing.

“-Are there any who would wish to speak against my taking this time from our discussion?”

For a moment it seemed that none of those looking back at him would speak. Then one man wearing green, as tall as Dafydd, with a mustache and beard, both trimmed short and showing flecks of gray among their stiff, brown hairs, turned his eyes from the QB to the boy; and began to speak in the language of the Drowned Land-not to Dafydd, but directly to the young king.

“Sire, may I remind you that some of us here have left our own places suddenly, to come without delay to you; and we must return as soon as possible. Moreover, is not one of our great concerns the monsters growing in numbers daily in the Borderlands? And is not this Questing Beast only another such? But your Regent has asked us to accept him immediately as one of us in our privy planning!”

The youthful monarch, however, was equal to being put in the middle of the disagreement.

“It has been my particular wish,” he said in his high voice, “that my Regent should, for my good and that of all my people, rule in such matters.”

“I do not like strange beasts from Lyonesse being pushed upon us. The matter between us and the Sea-Purple is bad enough, without nightmare creatures and unasked visitors from the land above joining in our speaking! I tell you this plainly!”

“Now,” said Dafydd-and his voice had gone back to that cool, almost lazy, dangerous tone Jim had heard from him before when things got tense, “-you would not be questioning whether I am a good Regent for our King, are you, Gruffydd?”

But the boy stepped quickly in front of Dafydd, facing the man called Gruffydd.

“Our royal ancestors were of the sky-blue!” he shouted. “Dafydd ap Hywel is my blood cousin. Before he died, my father offered Dafydd to take the throne in my place. If he had done so, he would stand here now as your King and mine. But he refused. So now I am King and have chosen him as Regent. Am I your King, then, or am I not? If I am your King, he is your Regent-and I say then there shall be no more discussion of those who have just joined us, or of Dafydd speaking aside with them. Am I your King?”

For a bare second there was no movement. Then, all together, including the man in brown, they knelt before him on one knee and bowed their heads.

“Rise,” said the boy-King; and turned his back on the men as they did so, to face Dafydd, Jim, and those with him. “My Regent, take what time you need. I shall stay here, so that our friends may not think you talk behind their back.”

Daffyd bowed his head and shoulders.

“Thank you, Sire,” he said. “The time will not be wasted.” He switched back to English. “Sir James, Sir Brian, my Lord QB, will you, of your favor, accompany me?”

Amid the continued silence of all those with the King, Dafydd led Jim and the rest to the tent. The horses followed, the destriers by training and the sumpter horse because she was still on the lead rope; they were, however, left outside, though Dafydd’s beckoning finger summoned Hob with the rest inside the tent. There was little enough there. Some branches had been thrown down and covered with bedding, in a corner. Outside of that, the only furnishings were a bare wooden slab on trestles, set up as a table, and a large leather container, half sack, half jug, and some cups.

“Dafydd, James!” exploded Brian, once they were seated and the leather container proved to contain a red wine.

Both the other men looked at him inquiringly.

“For the love of all the Saints!” Brian said. “Will you tell me what all that talk in foreign speech was about?”

“It was not foreign, you know, Sir Brian,” said Dafydd mildly. “English is the foreign tongue here.”

“English? Foreign?” said Brian, becoming even angrier. He got himself under control. “Anyway, it was damned discourteous to speak it before a gentleman who did not understand it. You tell me what was said, then, James!”

He looked at Jim, who understood. It was not that Brian expected Jim to suddenly have developed an understanding of the Drowned Land language. It was simply that since Jim was a magician, he must, in some occult way, have known what had been said.

“I, too,” put in the QB, “would like to know what the speaking was about.”

“You did not?” Dafydd looked at him with surprise.

“I had hoped you would be free by now, Dafydd,” said Brian.

“I thank you for that hope,” Dafydd said. “But, barring a miracle, it is not likely that I will be free to join you soon. The King needs me by his side. He is a remarkable lad, as you will discover-you may have felt some touch of his abilities in the way he spoke up, but a short time past. However, words will not solve all things. I, and those who wear the sky-blue, outnumber and are more than a match for any two or three other Colors. Add in those who follow the Throne and it needs be a strong gathering of other Colors to challenge us.”

“Why the need for gatherings like this, then?” said Brian. “Send home those who are not with you. Let it be known you will be happy to face all comers; and go about business as usual.”

“We are not knights, Sir Brian, here in the Drowned Land,” said Dafydd, with the touch of a sad smile. “We do not take arms lightly, nor lives if we can avoid it, even those of men who oppose us.”

“But harkee!” put in Brian. “Would it not be possible to challenge this man of the Sea-Purple to put all to test on a single combat and meet him yourself-or have a champion-I would not refuse a request to fill that office for you, myself. It might cost one life; but surely that is a cheap price to pay for unity. What does this Purple Leader look like?”

“You saw him outside the tent,” said Daffyd. “It was he who spoke just now against my Lord QB and yourselves.”

“That man was wearing brown!” said Jim.

“It was only because he came here under shelter, as guest of the Browns.”

“You let your foremost enemy walk freely into one of your councils?” Brian stared. “Surely, Dafydd, that is not wise, or good?”

“As I have said,” Dafydd answered, “we and our ways are different here, Sir Brian. He is on honor to act honestly as our guest, and we trust him in that; as he would trust me, were I amongst those who had joined them as they talked. It is all the Drowned Land that is threatened by what is happening in the Borderlands; not just we around the Throne.”

“What exactly is happening in these Borderlands?” asked Jim. “And where is it?”

“It is a wild strip of forest between Lyonesse and the Drowned Land,” said the QB. “You went through it the last time you were here-it was there I helped you against the tall, black-furred ones.”

“It is only part in Lyonesse,” said Dafydd. “Therefore we are responsible. It is like a finger of our land reaching into the earth of Lyonesse-so that you can be in Lyonesse one moment and, with little change in what is about you, pass into Drowned Land space for a moment-and then be once more in Lyonesse. So perhaps it is there that the poison of what the Dark Powers attempt in Lyonesse has seeped, finding a safe nest between our two peoples. Certainly, there is now a gathering there of strangely unlikely creatures, and men never born or raised in either of our lands-a strong force of them there.”

“But if they’re confined to the Borderlands-“ Jim broke off. “-How far from here is this Borderland, anyway?”

“Close,” said Dafydd. “Less than an English mile. But it was through the south corner of it that we passed before on our way to the entrance of the Gnarly Kingdom.”

“Yet I thought we were still in Lyonesse at that time,” said Brian. “And perhaps it was the Lady Agatha Falon who blinded me with arts witcherly, to lead us into her trap.”

“Perhaps some of your Knights of Lyonesse, my Lord QB,” said Dafydd, “could tell us more of what is afoot there?”

“Of your grace and pleasure,” said the QB, lifting his narrow head almost regally to Dafydd, “I pray you again, that you address me simply as the QB. I am more used to it and prefer it-yes, we know the Borderland; but none of our people live close to it. A dark and friendless place.”

Jim looked at the strange, legendary animal with sudden curiosity. If none of those belonging to the Arthurian Legends lived there, what had the QB himself been doing there-and how had he happened to show up just at the right moment to help them? Jim opened his mouth to ask, and then closed it again. It would be awkward to request an answer to those questions now; and in any case this was not the place to do so. However, probably not too surprisingly, Dafydd’s thoughts seemed to have been running along the same line Jim’s had.

“You must go there from time to time yourself,” he said to the QB, “since you showed up when we needed you. Have you been there lately?”

“I have not,” answered the QB.

“Then you knew not it had become a gathering ground for all such as I have just mentioned,” Dafydd told him. “It is ill to have this coming upon us at this time, with our young King still some years from his full manhood; and when the Dark Forces are at work in your Lyonesse. Tell me your thought, QB. Do you think these powers have designs on the Drowned Land as well?”

“I know not,” said the QB. “I could have asked Merlin, had I suspected it; but almost surely he would not have answered me. It is like him to know-but for his own reasons not to tell. But at least magick does not enter into the tangle of your people here.”

“I’m afraid it does,” said Jim, “Tell me, Dafydd. How old is your King right now?”

“He has fifteen years.”

“He is one who will make a great King for us, if his life is spared,” said Dafydd. “He has the wits of a grown man-and not just any grown man-perhaps one such as your friend Sir John Chandos, James, when he had the age of our lad.”

“You’re measuring the boy against an unusual man,” said Jim. He smiled as he said it; but in fact, to his way of thinking, Chandos was the kind of individual who comes along only once in several centuries.

“You will see,” said Dafydd. “But now, since time presses, will you tell me why and how you have come here?”

Jim looked at Brian and the QB, but neither said a word.

“Brian and I were both captured. He was led into the hands of the Lady Annis, a demoiselle of the Witch Queen Morgan le Fay-who captured me. You must have heard of the Queen.”

Dafydd inclined his head, briefly.

“Morgan tried to get at me magically, but KinetetE stopped her; so Morgan turned me loose in the Forest of Dedale. I got out of there, met QB, and he took me to Merlin, who told me where Brian was being held. I went there, we got Brian loose, and went on to the castle of the Queen of Northgales, to try and find out what she knew of the Dark Powers, since she had been named to us as an ally of Morgan le Fay. We got nowhere with her, however. She seemed to want to hold us in her castle; but then, either the trees of Lyonesse or the Old Magic got us out when a cloud covered the sun and something-I think it was the Old Magic again-sent us to you-but none of us really know.”

Jim took a drink of wine and a long breath. He had thought he could tell their story in one long sentence; but it had not turned out to be possible.

“Sent you to us? You think so?” Dafydd rubbed his chin, gazing at Jim. “Could it not have been the Dark Powers instead that got you out of Northgales’ Castle and sent you here?”

“No,” said Jim, and hesitated. “It’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t worked with magic. You were with us in my Hall when the Dark Powers showed up there, and I told them to get out. Do you remember how you felt when they were there?”

“Yes,” answered Dafydd. “I am not a fearful man, I think; but there was something then that touched the place where fear is in me, in that moment.”

“All right,” said Jim. “Well, to me-to any magician-that touch, once felt, is something to be recognized at once, if it’s ever felt again. It’s the way magic-workers of any kind get in touch with each other, if they’re able to reach out far enough to feel for it. Morgan, and Northgales as well, could probably use it to find me anywhere, as long as I was in Lyonesse. Of course, once I’m here, I’m lost to them.”

“You are?”

“Absolutely!” said Jim, with a strength that surprised him. He could not have said why he was so sure of that; but now that the words were out of his mouth, he had no doubt about the truth of them. No doubt at all.

“Then that would put a limit to what those Powers can do?”

“Yes,” said Jim, with the same surprising certainty. “They found me at Malencontri only by following you to me.”

“But you had had to do with them several times before. Surely they knew where was your castle?”

I think,” said Jim, choosing his words slowly, “that just as your ways in the Drowned Land are not the ways of Brian in the land above, so there are differences between people like us, and Forces like these Dark ones. For one thing, I don’t think they see the way we do. Earth and sky, tree, creatures and humans-could be to them only parts of a general swirl of energy-like the flames of a fire... or something like that-“

He broke off. On this he was no longer sure. He had let Dafydd’s questioning run away with his thoughts; and begun to talk about possibilities beyond what their medieval minds could imagine-he could see it in the faces of Brian and Dafydd because he knew them so well. Even the QB, he saw, had his snake’s head cocked curiously on one side-saying nothing, watching him.

“But let’s talk about your problem, Dafydd,” Jim said. “It must be tied into ours, or else the Old Magic, or whatever, wouldn’t have brought us here. You wanted to get this interview over quickly. We and you may be two parts of a puzzle that fit together, but we won’t know until both of us have both parts. How does the threat-whatever it is-against the King tie in with the business of the gathering in the Borderlands?”

But he had delayed just a little too long. There was a sudden, alarmed shout from outside the tent, and a second later ugly, short, tearing noises, as things began to come through its cloth walls.

Jim, Brian, and Dafydd hit the earth floor of the tent at the same moment. The QB and Hob stayed upright, looking wonderingly about them.

The noises stopped. They had actually only sounded for a moment. Dafydd was immediately back on his feet, Jim and Brian only an instant behind him. Dafydd wrenched what looked like a short, thick arrow out of the tabletop.

“Quarrel!” he said grimly. “There are no crossbows in the Drowned Land-not the Drowned Land as we know it!”

He threw the shaft flat on the table, turned, and ran out through the entrance of the tent. Once again, Jim and Brian were right behind him; and caught up with him as they went.

Outside, where the group of men had stood, two men lay on the ground. Another five stood upright, being bandaged by those around them. Some quarrels were sticking at an angle in the ground. But Dafydd ignored all this. It was at another small group, so tightly clustered about someone else that it was impossible to see, that he looked; and it was toward this group he ran.

“Is the lad hit?” he shouted as he went. “Is he hurt?”

Faces turned toward him, but he was breaking into their midst, with Jim and Brian following, before they had time to answer. Sure enough, the boy-King was on the ground, motionless, eyes closed; with one man in brown kneeling over him, pressing gently on his chest as if to invite him to breathe. He raised his pale face as Dafydd and Jim reached him. It was Gruffydd, the visitor from the Sea-Purple.

“Let me at him,” said Jim. “I have wisdom with wounds.”

“Sir James is a magickian, Gruffyddi” said Dafydd harshly. “Up, and stand aside.”