Compleat Traveller in Black Read Free Page B

human problems there might be no end. Still, the worst of his afflictions were growing fewer. One by one, the imprints of aboriginal chaos were fading away, like the footmarks of travellers on the road above the hill where Laprivan was prisoned.
    Then, as the gold and silver towers of Ryovora came to view, he saw that an aura surrounded them as of a brewing storm, and his hope and trust in the people of that city melted clean away.
     
    III
     
    At the city Barbizond, where he had been but recently, there was likewise an aura around the tallest towers. There, however, it was a fair thing and pleasant to look upon, imbued with the essence of bright – if cruel, not the less lovely – Sardhin, chained in his unmoving cloud.
    Since time immemorial, though, Ryovora had been immune from such disadvantageous infestations as elementals, principalities and powers; the citizens prided themselves on being gifted with hard plain sense, sober in the making of decisions, practical and rational and causing a minimum of trouble to the world.
    That something had happened to alter this state of affairs…! There was an enigma to make the very cosmos shiver with foreboding!
    The traveller turned aside from the regular track, making no attempt to unfurrow his forehead, and instead of pursuing a direct course into the city diverged across a verdant meadow in the midst of which hovered a mist like the mists of early morning, but more dense. When its grey wisps had closed around him entirely, to the point where they would have incapacitated the vision of any ordinary trespasser, he dissolved one of the forces which curdled the light composing his staff, and a clear bright beam penetrated the opacity. It had barely sheared the vapor when a quiet voice addressed him.
    “Since you know where you are, I know who you are. Enter my dwelling, and be welcome.”
    The haze vanished, and the traveller advanced across the drawbridge of a castle that reared seemingly to heaven. At each corner rose a tower, haloed with cloud; two dragons chained beside the portcullis bowed their heads fawningly; four manlike persons whose bodies were of burnished steel came to escort him – one before, one behind, one at each side – through the gateway and across the courtyard; as he ascended steps towards the chief tower and the keep, twenty trumpeters sounded a blast from a gallery, and they were as metallic as their instruments.
    There was a scent of magic in the air. Echoes of half-forgotten cantrips resounded, incredibly faint, from the masonry of the walls. Here and there blue light dripped from a projecting cornice; shadows moved with none to cast them.
    Then a door of oak studded with brass swung open on silent hinges, giving access to a room across which slanted a thick bar of sunlight from a window standing wide. The beam illuminated the shrivelled mummy of a mandrake. In jars covered with black cloth, ranged on an oak shelf, were twenty homunculi. A brazier burned, giving off a thick, very pleasant smell like warm honey.
    From behind a table on which were piled massy books that also served as a perch for a drowsy owl, a personage in dark red robes rose to greet the traveller, and spoke in a tone between delight and resignation.
    “It is traditional that no one shall pierce the mist with which I guard my privacy save an invited guest or one who has a single nature. And, the universe being as it is, the latter class possesses but a single member. As you must know, I am the enchanter Manuus. Be welcome.”
    The visitor bent his head in acknowledgment. A chair was placed for him, not by visible hands; he sat down, disposing his cloak comfortably over its arms. From a cupboard Manuus took a large flask and two pottery mugs ornamented with complex symbols in blue enamel. From the flask – which bore similar symbols, but in green – he spilled a few drops of sparkling liquid, muttering words that made the walls hum faintly. The drops vanished before they reached