Shimrod continued to drink tea. The time had come when he must put aside his obsession and address himself to the program defined by Murgen: work which might embroil him in more excitement than he had bargained for, so that he would think back upon this placid interlude with longing. Murgen had so warned him: "You will be impinging yourself upon Tamurello's notice! You will be rudely interrupting his work and arousing his anger! These are not trivial acts: make no mistake! He will find a means, crude or subtle, to retort, and you must be prepared for amazement!"
Shimrod put aside the tea, which no longer soothed him. He went to his work-room, dismissed the guardians and entered. The room was aptly named. Everywhere, work cried out for sympathetic attention. The center table supported stuffs and articles confiscated from Tintzin Fyraclass="underline" thaumaturgical equipment, materia magica, books and paraphernalia—all to be inspected, classified, then either retained or discarded.
First and most urgently, Shimrod must set out monitors to scrutinize Tamurello and his conduct, as required by Murgen. These devices, when they came to Tamurello's notice, as they inevitably must, would dissuade him from other bold and arrogant mischiefs: so went Murgen's theory, and Shimrod had no reason to fault it, save that it put him in the position of a goat staked out in the jungle for the purpose of enticing a tiger. Murgen had waved aside Shimrod's misgivings. "Tamurello's bravado must be curbed, and this will be the effect of our program."
Shimrod had proposed another objection: "When he feels the scurch,* he will merely use new tactics, or a clever subterfuge."
"Still, he will be inhibited from truly grandiose ventures, and these are the efforts I fear the most."
"And meanwhile he will take pleasure in wreaking a multitude of small harms in such a way that they cannot be imputed to him."
"We will estimate his crimes and punish him accordingly, and soon Tamurello will be acclaimed the meekest of the meek!"
"Tamurello is not one to turn the other cheek," grumbled Shimrod. "More likely he will send a sandestin** with a plague of stag-beetles for my bed."
*Scurch: untranslatable into contemporary terms; gernerally: ‘susurration along the nerves', ‘psychic abrasion', ‘half-unnoticed or sublimated uneasiness in a mind already wary.' ‘Scurch' is the stuff of hunches and unreasoning fear.
**Sandestin: a class of halfling which wizards employ to work their purposes. Many magical spells are effected through the force of a sandestin.
"Anything is possible," Murgen agreed. "Were I you, I would maintain double vigilance. Dangers which can be imagined can be refuted!"
With Murgen's dictum in mind, Shimrod surrounded Trilda with a network of sensitive tendrils, to achieve at least a modicum of security. Then, once more in his work-room, he cleared the clutter from one of his work-tables and spread out a sheet of buff-colored parchment provided by Murgen.
The substance of the parchment merged into the oak, so that the table-top became a great map of the Elder Isles, with each of the domains tinted a different color. At Faroli, Tamurello's manse, a point of blue light glittered, to indicate Tamurello's presence. Should Tamurello travel near or far, the blue light would trace his movements. Shimrod had solicited other lights from Murgen, that he might know the movements of other folk; Murgen would hear nothing of this. "You must concentrate your attention upon Tamurello and nowhere else."
Shimrod continued to argue. "We should use the instrument to its full scope. Assume that a red light marked your whereabouts. Assume further that one of your lady-loves seduced you into a dungeon, I could find you easily and release you from the cell, to your minimum inconvenience."
"The contingency is remote."
In such a fashion the map was arranged, and, by the evidence of the blue light, Tamurello remained in residence at Faroli.
Days passed. Shimrod refined the techniques of his surveillance, using unobtrusive methods which Tamurello, if he so chose, could ignore and still maintain his dignity.
Tamurello, however, refused to tolerate the inspection gracefully, and attempted several artful mischiefs upon Shimrod, which were vitiated by Shimrod's protective system. Meanwhile Tamurello worked to blind Shimrod's optical wisps and shatter his listening shells with concentrations of sound.
Shimrod, warming to his task, introduced a whole new order of sensitive devices, to cause Tamurello a new set of vexations. Murgen's strategy, to monopolize Tamurello's energies with trivial annoyances, seemed generally to be successful.
The lunar month approached the night of the waning half-moon, and Shimrod's thoughts irresistibly went to the white villa beside the ocean. For the briefest of moments he contemplated a second visit by midnight to the rocky ledge which thrust into the ocean; as quickly as the idea came it went, and once again Shimrod was left with unwelcome images and the haunting fragrance of violets.
Shimrod tried to exorcise the visions: "Go! Away! Depart! Dissolve into the void, and never return to disturb me! Were it not absurd, I might think you another of Tamurello's tricks, as he does to me what I try to do to him!"
On the night itself, Shimrod became restless, and went out to observe the moon. The meadow was quiet; nothing could be heard but crickets and a few far frogs. Shimrod wandered across the meadow to the old dock on Lally Water, where the moon already had started its decline down the sky. The water was calm and dark; when Shimrod threw a pebble, the expanding ripples gleamed silver. ... A watch-wisp floating over his head issued a sudden warning: "Someone stands near; magic has come and gone!"
Shimrod turned and, not altogether to his surprise, discovered by the shore a slight figure in a white gown and a black cloak: Melancthe. She stood looking up at the moon and seemed not to see him.
Shimrod, turning away, paid her no heed.
She came down the dock and stood beside him. "You do not seem surprised to find me here?"
"I only wonder how Tamurello could induce you to come."
"He found no difficulty; in fact, I came of my own volition."
"Strange! Tonight you were to sing with your friends on the rocks."
"I decided to go there no more."
"How so?"
"It is simple enough. I had a choice: to live or to die. I chose to live, which brought me to new choices. Should I continue as an outcast and sing on the rocks, or should I simulate the ways of the human race? I decided to change."
"You do not regard yourself as human?"
Melancthe said softly: "Tamurello has informed me that I am a neutral intelligence of no great vigor in a female mask." She looked up into Shimrod's face. "What do you think?"
"I think that Tamurello listens and smiles. Wisp: look sharp, high and low: what listens and what watches?"
"I apprehend nothing."
Shimrod gave a dubious grunt. "And what were Tamurello's instructions to you?"
"He said that humanity in the main was crass, stupid, boorish and vulgar, and that I could learn at least this much from you."
"Some other time. Now, Melancthe, I will bid you good night."
"Wait, Shimrod! You told me that I was beautiful, and you took pains to kiss me. Tonight I have come to Trilda and you are the one who now backs away. That is a curious contradiction."
"Not at all. I am taken aback, and cautious. Tamurello's motives are clear enough, but yours are in doubt. I believe that you exaggerate my crassness and stupidity. And now, Melancthe, if you will excuse me—"
"Where are you going?"