After much riding Lansenet came to the brink of the great Lake of the West, Fleswen ta-Fëore. He stood upon the Segent Ophellúna, the landing-place of the Swan-people. Tall swans came riding upon the ripples to view him, but as he looked out over the waters he saw no island, no stronghold, not the hint of a tower on the horizon. Not long had he to ponder where the island might be or how he might reach it. For out of the woods behind came some ladies, evidently by their white livery some of them that served the Lady Endáyra, the Lady of the Lake, and they spoke domineeringly to him.
‘Noble Knight, soon there will come a barge to carry you over the waters to the Lady’s house. We will keep your good horse in safety here. And we bid you entrust also to us your arms and armour: for none may come armed before the Lady.’
‘I am loth to render up my arms and armour, fair ladies,’ replied Lanselet, ‘for they are indeed not mine but belong to the Green Rider, and are entrusted to me.’
‘The name of Berulâk ut-Apsû is well known among us,’ their leader replied, ‘but we care nothing for him and his weapons. We are not Entellári. We are the Ophellúna and our weapons are strong even without blades or points.’
‘In that case, beware the fangs that adorn my helm!’ cried Lansenet, ‘for I wrenched them from the jaws of Gulgrudur, whom some call the Grey Sleeper, and their venom is the essence of the deathly sleep with which he was wont to destroy travellers.’
But without reply, they seized Lansenet roughly and dragged from him his arms and armour, as he protested vainly at their discourtesy.
Then turning back to the lake, he straightway saw, far over the waters the towers of the fabled Âwliháwdë Ráda, the Spiral Castle, that stands on Otset Asathë, the Isle of the Lady of the Lake. A barge with oars was coming over the waters towards the hythe. Before it drew very near the Swanwomen seized Lanselet again and drew a hood over his head.
‘It is not permitted to outsiders to see the approaches to our stronghold,’ said their leader. ‘Therefore we blindfold you until you come before the Lady’s judgement seat.’
It was plain to Lansenet that further converse with the Swanwomen was useless. He allowed himself to be led down the hythe and bundled into the barge. He set himself on a thwart and stared into the darkness of the blindfold. He sought to measure the distance across the waters by the rhythmic strokes of the oars. It was a journey of little duration, though the distance had looked great: the barge seemed almost to fly over the face of the lake.
Presently the sounds became hollow, and he perceived that the boat was entering a covered haven or cavern on the island shore. It grounded, and with little show of courtesy the hands of the Swanwomen drew him out of the boat and on to a pavement, which echoed as they began to walk on it. The pathway climbed and bent ever around to the right. The party stopped and Lansenet heard the leader knock on the panel of a door. They caused him to walk forward, then drew the hood from him.
Lansenet stood in amazement beholding the Lady Endáyra’s throne room. Its walls were curved and of shifting blue-green colours, like some cavern in the depths of the sea. In the midst sat the Lady on a seat contrived like a great shell. The air of the room was hazy and heavy with a scent that made the senses drowsy. But Lansenet recalled his quest, and shook sleep from his head.
At once Endáyra arose from her seat and stepped towards him. She was clad all in white and very tall, looking down even upon Lansenet, who was deemed in Dúmiel to be of the greatest stature. She spoke sharply to him.
‘You are a knight from the new realm in the south, which the Entellári have gifted to the Hyûvandri. Why do you come seeking entrance to our domain?’
‘Madam, you have surely heard of the valiant blow that severed the sword-hand of the Unspeakable, Lord of Ombros, from his arm, in the cavern Onskabâ? It was my sister, the valiant Lady Thilfri, that struck that blow. The shock of it stunned her, and she has lain wellnigh lifeless ever since. There is no remedy for her sickness in our land. I come to beg for the page in the book of Silûnakánti that bears the Rune of Healing.’
‘I am the keeper of that book, and it is not my will that any page should be taken from it.’
‘Not at any price, Madam?’
‘None that I know of!’
‘And will you not accept a portion of the starfire that Prámiz son of the Unspeakable stole from the heights of Galambos?’
At that the Lady hesitated, and Lansenet perceived a flash of desire in her eyes.
‘Show me this portion!’
‘First, the Rune of Healing, Lady, if it please you!’
Endáyra glared at Lansenet with hostility, but slowly turned to an attendant, a white-clad Swanmaiden, who stood by, and spoke low to her. The attendant left the chamber. A time of waiting followed. Lansenet fingered the small crock of naphtha housing the precious sparks of starfire that lay hidden within his jacket. The Lady was silent, her eyes fixed on some distant point. But Lansenet sensed the perturbation within her — her deep desire for the starfire.
After many minutes, the attendant returned, bearing before her on a plump cushion an ancient volume bound all in the skin of lemenyári. She held it before the Lady. Endáyra opened the book and turned a few leaves. She stopped and studied one page with care, as if it were a guide to the book’s contents. Then she turned many leaves over rapidly until she reached a certain point. Again, she scanned the page intently. Lansenet thought he read a hint of puzzlement in her features, and then something like a smirk, if such a highborn being could harbour such a low expression. She pressed open the dagat-katíva, the binding device, that held all the leaves in place, plucked out that single leaf, and closed the binder again. Laying her hand upon the volume, she turned a haughty gaze upon Lansenet, saying:
‘This volume is the mighty Katívat Kumbren, Book of the Deep, into which no mortal can look, for it is far beyond the capacity of any hyûvanwa. So count yourself favoured above all your folk even to have beheld it.’
After a breath she held up the leaf. Lansenet peered at it, expecting that it would be written close from top to bottom and from side to side. But the leaf was blank save, in one corner, for a few marks in the form of a square. Could this be the rune that would avail for Thilfri’s healing?
‘But this,’ said the Lady, ‘can be spared from the book. It is worthless. It may be called the Rune of Healing, but bears nothing but a few meaningless words. You may take it from my hand.’
His heart was heavy at these words, but Lansenet eagerly took the leaf, hoping that for all her learning the Lady was mistaken; that the characters bore some hidden meaning.
‘Now, deliver to us the starfire!’ said Endáyra, motioning to another attendant, a sturdy Swanmaster in white mail, who approached Lansenet. Had Lansenet been intent upon trickery or escape, he could have achieved neither. He took from its hiding place the small crock and gave it to the Swanmaster, who coming before the Lady, very carefully, and at arms’ length, lifted the stopper a fraction. Instantly a flash of light, brighter than the sun at noon, filled the entire chamber. The attendant hastily pressed the stopper back, and all around the chamber the Swanfolk rubbed their eyes.
‘Take the hyûvanwa away! Put him over the water and send him and his horse on their road!’ said the Lady, without a further word to Lansenet. It seemed that desire for the starfire filled her whole mind.
They blindfolded him again, hustled him back down the curved incline, bestowed him in the barge, and rowed him from the island. No word was spoken. The passage was even quicker than before, and he found himself upon the shore, the Swanmaidens already proffering him the Green Rider’s arms and armour, and leading Damarâw forward. Then they withdrew into the woods.
From his horse’s back Lansenet looked across the waters, but he could see no barge, no island, no Spiral Castle. Fleswen ta-Féore was an empty lake.
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