Rianlle's face showed no geniality. He said: "I accept the invitation, for myself and for the Kraike and Lissolet as well. Will you think me presumptuous if I set the occasion for three days hence? You will have had opportunity to search for the legendary covenant, and also to consult your eiodarks and to convince them that the accord between Kaiark Jochaim and myself must without fail be implemented."

Words pressed against Efraim's lips; he contained them with an effort.

"I will consult my eiodarks," he said at last. "We will reach a decision which may or may not please you, but which will be based upon how we regard our duty.

In any event we shall look forward to entertaining you at Benbuphar Strang at the time you suggest."

1. The Rhunes produce no true music and are incapable of thinking in musical terms. Their fanfares and clamors are controlled by mathematical progressions, and must achieve a mathematical symmetry. The exercise is intellectual rather than emotional.

On their return to Benbuphar Strang the portals were thrown wide by footmen strange to Efraim.

Singhalissa stopped short. "Who are these people? Where is our old staff?"

"I have replaced them," said Efraim. "All except Agnois, whom you will still find in office."

Singhalissa turned him a curious glance. "Must all our arrangements be disrupted? Why have you done this?"

Efraim spoke in his most formal voice. "I wish to live among people who have no prior loyalties and on whom I can place reliance. I took steps to achieve this by the only possible means: a complete change."

"My life daily grows more hectic," cried Singhalissa. "I wonder where this turmoil will end! Do you also plan to take us to war for a miserable fragment of hillside?"

"I would like to know why Rianlle is so exercised over this 'miserable fragment of hillside.' Do you know?"

"I am not in the Kaiark Rianlle's confidence."

A footman approached. "Your Force, the Baron Erthe is at hand."

"Please introduce him."

The Baron Erthe came forward. He looked from Efraim to Singhalissa and back to Efraim. "Your Force, I have a report to render."

"Speak."

"In a rubbish heap near Howar Forest we discovered a corpse in a black sack. It has been identified as the remains of Matho Lorcas."

Efraim's stomach quivered. He looked at Singhalissa, who showed no emotion. But for a soft metallic scrape behind the door he would have been the corpse in the black sack, rather than Matho Lorcas.

"Bring the corpse to the terrace."

"Very well, Your Force."

Singhalissa said softly, "Why do you do that?"

"Can't you guess?"

Singhalissa turned slowly away. Efraim summoned Agnois. "Place a trestle or a bench on the terrace."

Agnois allowed an expression of puzzlement to cross his features. "At once, Your Force."

Four men carried a coffin across the terrace, and set it down upon the trestle.

Efraim took a breath and lifted the lid. For a moment he looked down into the dead face, then he turned to Agnois. "Bring the mace."

"Yes Force." Agnois started away, then halted and stared back aghast. "Which mace, Force? There are a dozen on the wall of the trophy room."

"The mace with which the Noble Lorcas was murdered."

Agnois turned and walked slowly into the castle. Efraim, gritting his teeth, examined the corpse. The head was crushed, and a wound in the back gave evidence of a dagger thrust.

"Close the lid," said Efraim. "There is no more to be learned. Where is Agnois?

He loiters, he tarries!" He signaled a footman. "Find Agnois, ask him to make haste."

The footman presently returned on the run. "Agnois is dead, Force. He has taken poison."

Efraim clapped him on the back. "Return inside; make inquiries! Discover the circumstances!"

He turned sadly back to Baron Erthe. "One of the murderers has escaped me. Be so good as to bury this poor corpse."

In due course the footman reported his findings. Agnois, upon entering the castle, apparently had gone directly to his quarters and there swallowed a fatal draught.

Efraim bathed himself with unwonted zeal. He took a dismal meal in his refectory, then lay down on his couch. For six hours he dozed, tossed, twisted, dreamed evil dreams, then slept soundly from sheer exhaustion.

Efraim had not yet dismissed the aircar which had transported him to Belrod Strang. He now ordered the pilot to convey him to Whispering Ridge.

The aircar rose into the light of the colored suns and flew north around the flank of Camanche, then drifted down to settle on the grass. Efraim alighted, and walked out across the meadow. The serenity was that of lost Arcadia; except for the crag to the east, the view was of clouds and air; isolation from the anxieties, plots, and tragedies of Benbuphar Strang was complete.

At the center of the meadow he paused. The whisper was not perceptible. A moment passed. He heard a sigh, a mingling of a million soft tones, each no louder than a breath. The sigh became a murmur, faded tremulously, rose again, then dwindled toward silence - a sound of elemental melancholy... Efraim heaved a deep sigh of his own and turned toward the forest, to find, as before, a group of Fwai-chi watching from the shade. They shambled forward; he advanced to meet them.

"Before mirk I came here," said Efraim. "Perhaps I spoke to one of you?"

"We were all here."

"I am faced with problems, and they are your problems as well. The Kaiark of Eccord wants Whispering Ridge. He wants to build a pavilion here for his pleasure."

"That is not our problem. It is yours. The men of Scharrode have promised to defend our holy place forever."

"So you say. Do you possess a document attesting to this agreement?"

"We have no document. The promise was exchanged with the kaiarks of old and transferred to each successive kaiark."

"Kaiark Jochaim may so have informed me, but your drugs took my memory, and now I can assert nothing of my own knowledge."

"Still, you must enforce the covenant." The Fwai-chi returned into the forest.

Efraim despondently returned to Benbuphar Strang. He called a meeting of the eiodarks and reported Rianlle's demands. Certain of the eiodarks cried out for mobilization; others sat glum and silent.

"Rianlle is unpredictable," declared Efraim. "At least this is my opinion. Our preparation for war might dissuade him. On the other hand, he would not care to retreat before our defiance, when our resources are inferior to his. Perhaps he will send his troops to occupy the Dwan Jar and then ignore our protests."

"We should occupy the Dwan Jar first, and fortify it!" cried Baron Hectre. "Then we might ignore the protests of Rianlle!"

Baron Haulk said: "The concept is attractive, but the terrain hinders us. He can bring his troops around Camanche and up Duwail Slope; we can supply our forces only by the trail across the front of Lor Cliff, and Rianlle alone on the brink could interdict us. We would more profitably fortify Bazon Scape and the pass at the head of the Gryphon's Claw, but there we invade Eccord soil and prompt sure retaliation."

"Let us look at the physiograph," said Efraim.

The group filed into the octagonal Hall of Strategies. For an hour they studied the thirty-foot-long scale model of Scharrode end the adjoining lands, but only verified what they already knew: if Rianlle sent troops to occupy the Dwan Jar, then these troops would be vulnerable to attack along their supply routes and might well be marooned. "Rianlle may not be able to exercise his strength as effectively as he hopes," mused Baron Erthe. "We may force him into a stalemate."