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opalescent Embelyon night he worked under Pandelume’s unseen tutelage. He learned the secret of renewed youth, many spells of the ancients, and a strange abstract lore that Pandelume termed “Mathematics”.
    â€œWithin this instrument,” said Pandelume, “resides the Universe. Passive in itself and not of sorcery, it elucidates every problem, each phase of existence, all the secrets of time and space. Your spells and runes are built upon its power and codified according to a great underlying mosaic of magic. The design of this mosaic we cannot surmise; our knowledge is didactic, empirical, arbitrary. Phandaal glimpsed the pattern and so was able to formulate many of the spells which bear his name. I have endeavored through the ages to break the clouded glass, but so far my research has failed. He who discovers the pattern will know all of sorcery and be a man powerful beyond comprehension.”
    So Turjan applied himself to the study and learned many of the simpler routines.
    â€œI find herein a wonderful beauty,” he told Pandelume. “This is no science, this is art, where equations fall away to elements like resolving chords, and where always prevails a symmetry either explicit or multiplex, but always of a crystalline serenity.”
    In spite of these other studies, Turjan spent most of his time at the vats, and under Pandelume’s guidance achieved the mastery he sought. As a recreation he formed a girl of exotic design, whom he named Floriel. The hair of the girl he had found with Kandive on the night of the festival had fixed in his mind, and he gave his creature pale green hair. She had skin of creamy tan and wide emerald eyes. Turjan was intoxicated with delight when he brought her wet and perfect from the vat. She learned quickly and soon knew how to speak with Turjan. She was one of dreamy and wistful habit, caring for little but wandering among the flowers of the meadow, or sitting silently by the river; yet she was a pleasant creature and her gentle manners amused Turjan.
    But one day the black-haired T’sais came riding past on her horse, steely-eyed, slashing at flowers with her sword. The innocent Floriel wandered by and T’sais, exclaiming “Green-eyed woman — your aspect horrifies me, it is death for you!” cut her down as she had the flowers in her path.
    Turjan, hearing the hooves, came from the workroom in time to witness the sword-play. He paled in rage and a spell of twisting torment rose to his lips. Then T’sais looked at him and cursed him, and in the pale face and dark eyes he saw her misery and the spirit that caused her to defy her fate and hold to her life. Many emotions fought in him, but at last he permitted T’sais to ride on. He buried Floriel by the river-bank and tried to forget her in intense study.
    A few days later he raised his head from his work.
    â€œPandelume! Are you near?”
    â€œWhat do you wish, Turjan?”
    â€œYou mentioned that when you made T’sais, a flaw warped her brain. Now I would create one like her, of the same intensity, yet sound of mind and spirit.”
    â€œAs you will,” replied Pandelume indifferently, and gave Turjan the pattern.
    So Turjan built a sister to T’sais, and day by day watched the same slender body, and the same proud features take form.
    When her time came, and she sat up in her vat, eyes glowing with joyful life, Turjan was breathless in haste to help her forth.
    She stood before him wet and naked, a twin to T’sais, but where the face of T’sais was racked by hate, here dwelt peace and merriment; where the eyes of T’sais glowed with fury, here shone the stars of imagination.
    Turjan stood wondering at the perfection of his own creation. “Your name shall be T’sain,” said he, “and already I know that you will be part of my life.”
    He abandoned all else to teach T’sain, and she learned with marvellous