"He is very powerful," the QB said. "He was always so; and he is still so."
"But wasn't he spell-locked inside a tree by Nimue?"
"He was. Nimue or Vivien—call her what you wish; that will make no difference to his talking with you—if he will. But only in the dark can you come to him; for he is also in the dark, as he has been, these long centuries."
Jim felt a coldness on the back of his neck; but shook it off.
"Take me to him," he said.
"Wait," answered the QB.
They waited in silence as Lyonesse's daystar sank with increasing swiftness as it neared the bulge of the earth. A scribbling of black branch tops crept up over its face first, then the light dimmed more swiftly as the heavier limbs below joined them. Quickly, no more could be seen of it although its white light, more and more feebly, continued to reflect from the sky until—suddenly—this, too, went; and they were prisoners of a total dark.
"Now we go, Sir James," said the QB's voice out of that darkness. "Do not try to move. I will move us."
Jim sat still on Gorp; and for a space of time nothing seemed to happen. Then he felt moving air on his face, as if he was leaning out the open window of a traveling car. The breeze stopped abruptly.
"We are here," said the voice of the QB. "Dismount."
In the total darkness, Jim swung out of Gorp's saddle with the familiarity of habit; and felt the heel of his foot jar against an earthen-soft surface a little before he had expected it. He took his other foot from the stirrup and stood by Gorp, holding on to the reins and the pommel of the horse's saddle. Gorp stood rock-still, as a well-trained warhorse should.
"I will be back to get you just before the light rises again," the QB's voice came. "But Merlin will hear you now if you speak to him."
Jim stood for a moment. In spite of the indifference he thought he had toward dark places, the coolness on the back of his neck was back again; and he felt a stiffening of the little hairs on the back of his neck.
"Merlin?" he asked.
His voice seemed strangely loud, but flat—as if lacking all normal echoes. There was no answer. Stubbornness lifted its head in him. He had come to get information.
"Merlin?" he said again—more loudly.
"Who calls?" The voice was powerful, not at all like the voice of an old man.
"Sir James Eckert, de Malencontri," said Jim, strongly enough in his turn, although he was feeling a strange dizziness—unnatural enough that he spoke with medieval formality. "I come to ask your help in finding my friend, Sir Brian Neville-Smythe, whom someone in Lyonesse has hidden from me."
Having said these words, however, he found himself feeling they had been both weak and pompous.
"Jim, eh?" said the voice on a more conversational level. "Carolinus's little apprentice. That Carol-lad was always out to get himself in too deep, unless he looked out first—which he wasn't likely to do."
The shock was considerable. It was like being in a foreign country, face-to-face with a native; and addressing him with great effort in a halting and clumsy version of the local language—only to have the native reply instantly in fluent, colloquial English.
"Carolinus isn't too well right now," said Jim defensively.
"He'll survive."
"We hope so."
"I SAY SO." The voice had abruptly become powerful again, more powerful than before. "DO YOU DOUBT ME?"
Jim's memory awoke suddenly. Merlin's greatest ability, according to the legends, had been to see the future.
"No, Mage," said Jim hastily. "I didn't mean it to sound that way."
"And don't call me 'Mage'!" The voice, however, had gone back to the lower, more familiar level. "They can title themselves all they want; but I alone am MERLIN."
"Yes, Merlin."
"Well, Sir Knight Jim, why should I help you?"
"Because both Sir Brian and I came to Lyonesse to help it—but you probably know about that, too, Merlin."
"As a matter of fact, I do. In itself it's commendable. Well, I won't deliver him for you, but I can tell you where he's held. How badly do you want to rescue him?"
"I couldn't want to any more than I do now," said Jim. "Not only that, but Sir Brian would want to be free himself, more than anything in existence."
"Anything in existence?" said Merlin. "That's a strong reason to give, Jim. Are you sure your friend would use just those words if he were here?"
"Yes," said Jim, seeing Brian in his mind's eyes. "I believe he would. He'd stop short of pledging his soul, but that'd be about all."
"Very well, then," said Merlin. "Know that he is held in thrall by the Lady of the Knight More Bright Than Day. The QB will carry you to her castle."
"Thanks," said Jim. He looked into the dark about him for the QB, but of course saw nothing.
"Stay," said Merlin, "while I tell you one more thing. If you had not told me what you did, I would not have revealed where he's now kept; for if he is left there, he'll suffer a while, but live. However, if you find and free him, he may face a sorrowful death from which I fear no one, even you, can save him."
"What sorrowful death? Why do you say even I wouldn't be able to save him?" Jim stared through the blackness in the direction of Merlin's voice.
There was no answer.
Jim asked again. Silence.
"Merlin," said Jim grimly. "You may not be saying anything; but I bet you can hear me. All right, I won't ask for answers to what I just asked you. But I've got another question I came determined to ask you. Are all the magics in Lyonesse one magic?"
There was an extended silence. Even the dark about Jim seemed to hold its breath. Then Merlin's voice came back, strangely hollow and distorted, like someone speaking through a long tube or corridor from a great distance.
"In all the ages since I came here," it said, "not once have I ever replied, once I had said my last word. But perhaps Carolinus saw more than I gave him credit for, and you as well. This once will I give further answer. All magic and all else. Yes."
"Thank you," said Jim.
No other word answered. No sound.
Chapter Thirteen
"Come, Sir James," said the voice of the QB, suddenly at his side, "you'll hear no more on this visit. Come. It will be light again, shortly, and we must be away from here."
Jim took a deep breath.
"All right," he said. He remounted Gorp by feel in the darkness; and again there was that sensation of a small wind blowing in his face for a short time.
Once more it stopped abruptly. Almost as it did so, there were the dim shapes of trees to be made out around them; and within seconds thereafter the light brightened in the opposite side of the sky from which Jim had seen it disappear; it became plain they were back at the place where they had started. The QB was still with him; and by the little hesitation as Gorp stepped out, Jim knew that the sumpter horse was still at the end of the lead rope tied to his saddle.
"You heard what Merlin said to me?" Jim asked. "Only the last few words, of where your friend is."
"You'll take me to this Bright Knight, then?"
"Yes, Sir James."
"Will it be dangerous to you to do it?"
"No. To be correct, I'll be taking you to the castle of his lady. For the castle is hers, not his. But it is him you must fight to free your friend. Come this way…"
The QB led off among the trees, at the same easy, but swift, loping speed, with his leopard belly strangely close to the ground, that Jim had seen him show on his earlier visit to Lyonesse.
Jim and the horses followed.
"Why is it hers? Aren't they a pair?" he asked.
"A pair?" QB considered the word for a moment. "Yes, and no. They are man and leman, though not man and wife, because the Lady of the Bright Knight—she has no other name, by the by—is tainted with magick, and therefore cannot wed in the eyes of Holy Church. She was a damosel of Morgan le Fay; and won her freedom from service in some way only the two of them and Merlin might know. But, stra
nge to say, there remained a kindness between her and Morgan; so that the Queen gave her this castle and lands."
"Where does the Knight come in, then?"
"Later, they say, the Knight came by and the two fell in love; and the lady went back to Morgan le Fay and begged a protection for him. For now he would be defending the castle and her against all comers—else all would have called him a false knight. It was Morgan le Fay that gave the Knight the gift of such brightness as you will find to dazzle your eyes."
"Hmm," said Jim.
"You are not afraid, now that you have heard?"
"Afraid?" said Jim, questioning himself. "No. I'm a magician myself. But I'm married."
"Could it be you were married before you touched magick?"
"Why should that make a difference?" Jim asked.
"Unmarried, you would not be forbidden to the use of magick. But if chance brought you to marriage after you were accepted and the great magickians of the land above did not then strip you of its use, you could be both married and a maker of magick."
"That's what happened, I guess," said Jim. "Anyway, I'm both now."
"So, now we approach the castle, the Knight, and the lady."
"Good," said Jim.
The QB was leading the way at that same deceptively ground-covering speed he had used before, Jim thought. But there was little to see, and his mind began to consider a new problem.
He would probably have to do combat with an experienced knight if he hoped to free Brian. Plain luck and Gorp's weight—nothing else—had made him victorious over the knight who had been doomed never to marry. It was too much to expect another such result. His mind spun, trying to come up with a means of getting out of the fight itself.
His mind's motion produced no means to that end. Geared up though he was, he told himself, perhaps he was also dull-witted from lack of sleep. He had not slept, now he came to think of it, since he had left Malencontri; a day and a night—if the recent dark he had just been through could be considered a full night.
But he felt clearheaded and alert. He felt no need for sleep or rest at all. More of the general magic of this place? And what had Merlin meant by "all else?" The talking trees?
They came, after what seemed almost no distance at all, to a large, open, grassy area with a clean-looking castle of white stone at the far end of it. The area did not look as if it had been deliberately cleared, as was normally done around castles for defensive purposes; yet the trees of Lyonesse all stood back some distance from it, as if they did not want to be associated with it.
It had the usual water-filled moat around it, and a drawbridge over the water. But the tall and wide double doors at the inner end of the drawbridge were closed tight.
The QB halted, and so did Jim, as they emerged into the open space.
"You must sound your horn, Sir James," said the QB.
"I don't—" Jim caught himself just in time. "As it happens, my horn isn't with me at the moment."
"So!" said the QB. "Then pray display your shield and your arms upon it."
Jim reached for his shield—which in this unknown land was riding close at hand on his back—slung it around in front of him, lifted its strap off his neck, and held it up in the air, facing the castle. A touch of vengeful joy stirred in him. For several years now he had been struggling to memorize dozens of coats of arms which it seemed every village child over four could recognize without thinking. Now, in this kingdom where all the armorial bearings of those entitled to them should be immediately recognizable, they would be looking at one they had never seen before.
Jim and the QB waited. Nothing stirred at the castle. Jim's arm began to get tired; and he let the shield drop until its lowest point rested against the pommel of his saddle.
"Maybe the Bright Knight's not here at the moment," he said.
"I do not believe he would be gone," said the QB seriously.
Suddenly, everything happened at once. A long white pennant with what looked like a jagged black lightning bolt painted on it suddenly appeared and blew free at the top of the Castle's main tower. Several horns together sounded a chorded note; and a small door in one of the big, closed entrance gates opened.
"Ah! From this point on, Sir James, you will be able to handle matters yourself," said the QB; and vanished.
What looked like a teenaged girl dressed all in white came out of the door. She ran at remarkable speed across the drawbridge and the open space beyond, toward Jim. He gazed at her with admiration. Though he was used to Angie, who was surprisingly fast on her feet, this one was sprinting like an Olympic contender. She ran all the way to where he sat on Gorp, took only a couple of deep, quick breaths, and spoke.
"Sir Knight—" she said, "we do not know your arms. I am sent to find your name and purpose in coming here."
It was time to behave himself in pure medieval style. Jim stiffened a little in his saddle.
"What place is this, that does not know the Knight-Dragon?" he said as harshly as he could manage. "He who is known in the land above and all the lands below?"
"Pray forgiveness, my Lord Dragon," said the messenger. "I am but an ignorant servant of those who dwell in yonder castle and only ask what I am sent to say. Would you of your grace tell me of your purpose in coming here, that I may carry word of it back to my masters."
"I am here," said Jim, slowly, and as terribly as he knew how to be, "to loose a pure and worthy knight I have heard is held captive in your castle—Sir Brian Neville-Smythe. To that end I will meet and destroy any who would fail to yield up that brave gentleman at once. I have in my time battled ogres, sea serpents, and demons—and vanquished them all. Let none think I will hesitate to do the same to any who would keep Sir Brian Neville-Smythe from me!"
He paused to see how, if at all, his words had impressed. Sometimes bombast like this just bounced off its hearer—sometimes it terrified them. You never could tell.
This time, the only change he noticed was that the flush on her face—in this colorless land, it had appeared only as a darker tone of gray—that had come from running had faded somewhat; but it was doubtful if she had actually paled.
"Then," she said, "I am sent to say to you, Sir Knight, that in this castle lives the Knight More Bright Than Day. Who has overthrown and made prisoner or slain all who have come against him. You are warned to withdraw!"
There was no help for it. This called for the ultimate of knightly gestures.
"Withdraw!" shouted Jim furiously, drawing his sword and heaving it up as if he was about to cut the messenger in two.
She dodged—probably a well-conditioned reflex—and ran with surprising speed back once more to the castle, where the small door opened for her as she pelted in over the drawbridge.
Jim waited. The pennon waved from the tower.
"Are they going to take all day?" growled Jim to himself. He was keyed up and finding it hard to sit still.
A boy of about twelve, dressed in what seemed to be black-and-white livery, emerged from the small door and began walking sedately and importantly across the grass toward Jim.
"Sir Knight," he said in a high treble, when he had come within a few yards of Jim, "know you that the Knight As Bright As Day does not fight with just any who comes. You must show some proof of what you claim to be."
"What kind of proof?" snarled Jim.
"That is for you to decide."
Jim snatched the glasses from his nose and held them out toward the boy, who shrank back.
"Do you know what this is?" roared Jim.
"No, m'Lord," squeaked the boy, all the importance gone out of him.
"I'll hope your Lord isn't as ignorant as you are! These are the Valorous Spectacles; and none has ever worn them who has not been named to wear them!"
"I'll tell him, byyourGracem'Lord—" The last words were slurred together in the boy's eagerness to get away.
"Stop!"
The boy froze, already half-turned. "It is for me to make conditions, now. I must know tha
t the brave knight I came to rescue is safe and well. He must be brought out here, close enough to me so I can make sure he's all right. Otherwise I will not deign to match lances with your Lord. Bring him first—then I'll fight. You hear me?"
"Yes, yes, m'Lord…" And the boy was off and running.
Again, Jim and the silent Hob waited, along with the patient horses. But what happened next surprised Jim. One of the two large leaves on the drawbridge entrance opened just enough to let out a horse with a rider on its back; and the rider was Brian—in full armor and on Blanchard. Brian looked around the open space, saw Jim, and put Blanchard into an immediate gallop toward him.
Jim's heart lifted on a sudden hope. Could it be that the Castle's people had decided that giving up Brian was smarter than fighting someone with Jim's credentials?
Earlier, Jim had felt no real desire for combat with the defender of the castle. Possibly it was his victory over the first knight he had opposed; but he had felt an unusual sensation of confidence at the thought of dealing with this particular foe—maybe it was his interview with Merlin that had filled him with such self-confidence.
On the other hand, the practical side of his mind hurried to point out, nothing could be ruled out when it came to a matter of lances or swords, no matter how confident a fighter might be. A foot might slip, a strap might break—the man or his horse could be not quite set at the crucial moment of contact. A sword blow or lance thrust could land just that little off-target that made them harmless.
"Hah!" said Brian, sharply reining in as he reached Jim. He wound his reins around the pommel of his saddle and lifted both arms. There was a circle of iron about each of his wrists and about a foot and a half of metal chain between them.
"Didn't trust me!" he said. "Damn fools! Because chained or not, now I'm free to tell you of this gentleman you are to engage—and how to handle him. Seemingly, that never came to their minds; only the vainglory of pretending you could have me back, since they trusted you to fail in your meeting."
"Is this Bright Knight that good?" asked Jim, feeling the touch of coldness in him for the first time since he had come within sight of the Castle.