Part 69 (1/2)

”This is an impractical suggestion,” said King Throbius. ”It is your blood which is needed! Quickly! We cannot waste all day!”

Madouc, scowling and wincing, allowed Osfer to draw three minims of her blood, from which Osfer contrived a second simulacrum.

”Now then!” said Osfer. ”We proceed as follows: Madouc is the sum of Twisk and an unknown father. Therefore, if we subtract the influence of Twisk from Madouc, what remains will depict the visage of Madouc's father, at least in general terms and perhaps blurred by discrepancies. So, stand back all, since I must work with a delicate touch!”

Osfer moved the two representations so that they faced each other, then arranged four panels of gra.s.s cloth to form a screen around the two heads. ”I now adjure all to silence! Any distraction will alter the precision of my work!”

Osfer arranged his instruments, uttered eight staccato syllables, and clapped his hands. ”The spell has been effected.”

Osfer removed the screens. One of the silver plates was empty. ”Twisk's image has been subtracted from that of Madouc. What remains is the likeness of Madouc's sire!”

Madouc stared at the residual face. With only half the substance, it was vague and colorless, as if formed of mist. The features seemed to represent a young man with irregular features in a rather gaunt long-jawed face and a suggestion of reckless optimism in his expression. His hair was cut in the Aquitanian style, and he wore a short modish beard at the chin. The face, though not ill-favored, lacked a patrician cast. Even in its blurred condition, the face affected Madouc with a rush of warm impulses.

Twisk was staring at the face in fascination. Madouc asked: ”What is his name?”

Twisk, now thoroughly out of sorts, made a capricious gesture and tossed her head. ”His name? It might be anyone. The features are indefinite; it is like looking through the fog.”

”Surely you recognize him?” cried Madouc. ”He even looks half-familiar to me.”

Twisk gave an airy shrug. ”Why should he not? You are seeing what is drawn from your own face.”

”Whatever the case, can you supply his name?”

Twisk said carelessly: ”I am truly bored with this business! I can barely distinguish a face in yonder puddle of murk; how can I give it a name?”

”But is he not familiar to you?”

”I might say 'Yes' and I might say 'No'.”

King Throbius spoke gently: ”As Falael will attest, my patience knows a limit. Unless you care to sit on a post, scratching your lovely pelt with both hands, you will respond to questions quickly and accurately, without evasion or ambiguity. Am I clear on this?”

Twisk uttered a cry of poignant emotion. ”Alas! How I am wronged, when my only concern is truth!”

”Please make your elucidations less abstract.”

Twisk blinked. ”Excuse me, Your Highness, I am not certain of your command!”

”Speak more clearly!”

”Very well, but now I have forgotten the question.”

King Throbius spoke with a carefully controlled voice. ”Do you recognize the face?”

”Of course! How could I forget? He was a gallant knight of verve and a most fanciful habit of thought! My ordeal at Idilra Post followed hard upon the encounter and swept it clean from my mind.”

”Very well; so much is established. Name us now the name of this gallant knight.”

”Quite possible! Sir Pellinore played the lute with delicate grace, and his songs were so sweet as to bring tears from a bear.”

Madouc struggled to control her emotion. ”Why did you not try to rescue poor Sir Pellinore, whom you loved so well?”