The Wizard (15 page)

way." "We must ask them when the fighting's over. Your master has not returned?" "No, sir. Should I send a hobliar after him, sir?" "I doubt that it's needed." I cupped my mouth as the Knight of the Leopards himself had not long before. "Sentry! To the north?" "Your servant, Sir Able!" The sentry's mailed arm caught sunlight as he waved. "What do you see of your master?" "Ridin' slow with the traveler!" I nodded and waved. "Tell the Black Knight I'm ready to engage him." The herald was visibly unhappy. "I must speak before you do, Sir Able. First the gold" "I don't want it." "Twenty pieces of eastern gold, broad and fair, every one of them. I bit two, sir, and they were soft as leather. The head of some caan on every one." "Does Sir Woddet know him? Or any of Woddet's party?" "I don't know, sir. Shall I ask?" I nodded; Uns, who had come up while we were speaking, said, "I'll do hit, sar. Right smart ta." "I'll go with him in a moment, by your leave, sir," the herald said, "Sir Woddet may not like talking to such a hind. But first, sir, I must tell you this Black Knight fights to the death and only to the death. He accords no gentle right, and thus" The herald took a deep breath and plucked up his courage. "You're not bound to engage him, as I see it. To fight to the death is war, and no proper trial of arms." I smiled. "Sir Woddet was of this knight's mind also. Does that not seem strange?" The herald began to speak, thought better of it, and hurried away. Cloud took three steps forward, and I saw in my mind's eye my own image charging with couched lance. "Nope," I whispered, "nor should I tire you like this with my weight." I dismounted, and side by side Cloud and I advanced until the Black Knight's herald was in plain view, and the Black Knight also, waiting a long bowshot off beside his black charger. "He has a skull for a crest," I explained to Cloud. "That's a human skull." Gylf, who had followed us, grumbled, "Cat pride." "It's boyish," I agreed. "We should get on well." "To scare you." "Of course. Only I'm not scared. Do you remember how I told you not to interfere when Sir Woddet and I engaged? You're not to interfere in this either. Would you like me to have Uns chain you up?" I turned to whisper to Cloud. "You're not to treat this knight as you treated Sir Woddet." In my mind, Cloud stood riderless, her head down. The Black Knight's herald was waving. "Sir Able! My master is ready to engage. Are you?" "Soon, I hope!" Uns and our own herald were returning. As I watched them,l caught sight of Idnn and the Knight of the Leopards. I waved, and both waved in response, she with a white scarf. "Dey'll aw talk, sar." Uns arrived first, breathless and panting. " 'Cept fer him 'n he won't look me inna face." "I see." I had a hand on the pommel and a foot in the stirrup. "What do the others say?" "Nothin', sar. On'y dey say hit 'n he won't." "They know nothing of a Black Knight, sir," announced our herald. "So they say, and I credit them. Sir Woddet surely knows, but he'll no more tell me than Uns here." I mounted. "I'll ride to that rock that crowds the road, and turn. When you see me lift my lance, I am ready." Awaiting the signal, I searched my memory. The Black Knight was known to Woddet; that was certain. Woddet had ridden untold leagues to defeat me, so that I would not have to face the Black Knight. Woddet was a friend, but who was this knight he'd feared would kill me? I tried to recall the knights at Sheerwall. I could remember only the knights who had been my companions in the Lady's hall, the knights in the Valfather's castle. Sir Galaad, Sir Gamuret. . . No. Woddet had been willing to kill me if necessary to keep me from fighting this Black Knight. Clarion and trumpet sounded, their clear, shrill notes echoing from snowy rocks. I couched the lance I had shaped from spiny orange and heard above the thunder of Cloud's hooves the whistle of wind in the carved dragon on my helm. The Black Knight's point, directed at the eye slits of that helm, dropped at the final moment, striking my shield with force enough to stagger Cloud. My own point struck the pommel of his saddle, and the black charger was overthrown, crashing to the roadway. I reined up, dismounted, and gave Uns my lance. The Black Knight lay motionless, and I noticed (in the way you notice a hare between two armies) that the skull had broken, losing part of an eye socket. Then our herald was kneeling beside the Black Knight and asking again and again whether he yielded. The black charger struggled to its feet; even with its pommel half torn away, its war saddle held the Black Knight still, though he drooped in it so that he was sure to fall. I tapped the herald's shoulder. "Enough. He's wounded or dead. Let's help him if we can." Woddet and Hela were at my elbow by then, Woddet with eyes wet with tears. The three of us lifted the Black Knight from his saddle and laid him on the frozen roadway. Although he could scarcely talk, Woddet managed, "Will you remove his helm, Sir Able? Or should I?" I shook my head. "Will you, Hela? A favor to us both?" She did. "He is not slain, good knights. See his eyes flutter? Life stirs still." The Black Knight's face was pale as death, and his hair and beard were white: Woddet and I fell to our knees beside him. Berthold was groping the fallen knight with his stick. Hela told him, "He is as old as you, Father, and a noble face." His herald began, "Know you that my master is none other than" The Black Knight completed the thought in a voice stronger than anyone could have expected. "Duke Marder of Sheerwall." "Your Grace." I bowed my head. "I did not know." "Nor were you meant to, Sir Able. Are you landless still? And penniless, too?" "Yes, Your Grace." "You need not Sir Woddet? What are you doing here?" "He rode ahead of Your Grace," I explained, "fearing I might kill you." "You overcame him." Marder tried to sit up, and with Hela's help succeeded. "I wished to test you, Sir Able. To see if you could be tempted, mostly. You passed both tests." He coughed. "I myself failed the second, alas." "Your lance bid fair to split my helm," I told him. "You dropped the point." "Of course, of course. I wanted to test you, not blind you." Marder caught sight of Berthold, and his face fell. "I beg pardon, sir knight. I did not intend to offend." "Ain't but a poor man, sir." "All these people." Marder looked around in some confusion. "Thisthis toplofty maid. And over there, the biggest man I've ever seen." "My brother, Your Grace, and by Your Grace's leave a true man, though not supple-tongued. Yonder stands another noble knight, Your Grace, good Sir Leort of Sandhill." Uns whispered in her ear. "This trusty servingman has named the maiden with him, that I may make her known to you, Duke Marder. She is Lord Beel's lady daughter, called Idnn." Idnn herself came forward, smiling and offering her hand to Marder. "We meet rough, Your Grace. Let's not meet wrong, too. We are Idnn, Queen of Jotunland."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN UTCARD AND THE PLAIN

The hour was just past dawn. "Small enough there can't but one get in at a time, Sir Svon," the sergeant said as he hurried along, "an' I've three bowmen there an' two swords." Nodding, Svon limped after him, with Toug in his wake. The men-at-arms held drawn swords; the bowmen had arrows ready. All seemed vastly relieved by Svon's arrival. When the sergeant threw wide the iron door, Toug understood. That doorway would allow two knights to stride through abreast, or let a mounted knight to ride through with head unbent; but the Angrborn in the freezing passage beyond it had to stoop, and looked too big to enter. His great, bearded face was like the head of a war drum, scarred, pocked, and dotted with warts; his nose had been broken, and his eyes blazed. Seeing him, Toug drew Sword Breaker. "Who is your king?" Svon demanded. "Gilling." It might have been a war drum that spoke. "Gilling's true king,blood a' the right line a' Bergelmir." Although Toug had been watching his eyes, fascinated and terrified, he could not have said whether he lied. "So say we all," Svon told him. "Enter, friend." "What about the rest?" "Tell them to return tonight." "I'm Schildstarr. Tell the king." "His Majesty is sleeping," Svon replied stiffly "Do you wish to enteralone or do you not?" "I'll tell 'em." Schildstarr took a step back. "You better shut this door." It swung shut with a clang, and two bowmen heaved the great bar into place. "Did their king really marry Lady Idnn?" The sergeant whispered, although it seemed impossible for Schildstarr to overhear even if he had crouched with an ear to the door. Svon nodded, his face expressionless. "By Thunor!" "She's nursing him," Toug ventured, "with slave women and her maids to help, because it can't be easy to take care of someone as big as he is. I feel sorry for herwe all do." Svon told him, "Fetch Thiazi." Toug lit a torch in the guardroom and hurried away. The knee-high steps of the lightless stair that led (through stone enough for a mountain) to the upper levels seemed interminable; the pulse in his wound and the labored scrape of his boots mocked him with his own fatigue. After a hundred steps or more, he heard feet other than his own, and though he told himself that it was the echo of his own steps returned from the upper reaches of the stair, he soon realized that it was not. Someone or something was descending, moving lightly from step to step. The air grew colder still, and though he drew the thick cloak Idnn had provided around him, it had lost its warmth. Seeing Mani's emerald eyes on the step above, he guessed what those eyes portended. "It's her, isn't it? It's the witch." "My beloved mistress," Mani announced solemnly. "That's what you call Lady Idnn." "Queen Idnn is my beloved mistress too," Mani explained. "My loyalty to both is boundless." A voice from the dark asked, "Would you see her?" It might almost have been the voice of the wind outside, had it been possible for that wind to make itself heard. "Yes." Toug leaned against the wall, wishing he could sit. "If we've got to talk again, that might be better." An Idnn who was not Idnn descended the stairs, more visible than she should have been by the smoky light. "King Gilling is a beast." The false Idnn spoke as winter speaks. "He must not possess methat I have come to tell you. I bring Sir Able, and Sir Able may save me." "Sir Svon would," Toug offered. "So would you. You have not lain with a woman." Toug shook his head. "Not yet." "You speak truth. Is he truthful, Mani?" "Oh yes!" "I've seen it," Toug explained. "Iknow what to do." "You have not seen King Gilling receive a bride. He will lie upon his back, his member standing." Hesitantly, Toug nodded. "Disrobed, I will love it as if it were a dwarfish man. I will draw staring eyes and a smiling mouth. I will anoint it with sweet oils, cozen and kiss it, beg its love. Gilling will reply, speaking for the dwarf I kiss. Erupting it will bathe me in semen, and I will praise and kiss the more, saying how happy it has made me and begging it not to go." "Lady Idnn will not do that." Toug spoke as confidently as ever in his life. "If I do not, or show disgust by any word or act, I will die," the false Idnn told him. "I will not be the first to perish so, you may believe. Do you think she cannot bear him a child?" Toug managed to say, "I don't want to talk about this." "His semen will violate her. When she grows big with child, know you how big she will grow?" The false Idnn began to swell. Toug shut his eyes but found he saw Idnn still, her body monstrous, misshapen, and surmounted by a weeping face. Unseen hands stripped away her clothing and opened her from breast to thigh. He pressed his hands to his eyes to shut out the blood; she writhed behind their lids, trembled, and lay still. When he came to himself, he found he was sitting as he had wished, sitting on the cold and dirty floor of a landing, rocking and weeping. "It hasn't happened yet," Mani told him; and Mani's voice, not normally kind at all, was kinder than Toug had ever heard it. "It may never happen." "It won't," Toug declared through his tears. "I won't let it. I'll kill him. I don't care if it's murder, I'll kill him." "It isn't. Now pick up that torch, and puff the flame before it goes out." Mani sprang from the last step to the landing, and to Toug's surprise rubbed his soft, furry side against Toug's knee. "It's murder when I kill another cat, except in a fight. It would be murder for you to kill, oh, Sir Garvaon or Lord Beel, except in a fight. But King Gilling is no more like you than Org." Suddenly frightened, Toug rose. "Is he down here?" "Org? Not that I know of." "But that's what happened, right? When Sir Svon and Sir Garvaon fought the giants. Org was there, and he was pulling down the torches so the giants wouldn't see him." Mani yawned, concealing his mouth with a polite black paw. "Certainly." "And he . . . Did he hold them from behind, or something? Was that how the knights won?" "I don't know. It became a riot in the dark." Toug scrambled up the step from which Mani had jumped. "I've got to get Thiazi. Sir Svon wants him." "Then get him, by all means. May I ride your shoulder?" Toug held out his free arm. "Come on." When they had climbed another score of steps, Toug asked, "Was it Org who stabbed the king?" "I don't know who it was," Mani told Toug. "I didn't see it happen, though I wish I had." After another step, he added, "I doubt it. Org breaks necks, mostly, from what I've seen. You might not think anybody would be strong enough to wring the necks of these giants, but he is." "The king was stabbed. Stuck deep, so a sword or a big dagger." "The king killed Master Crol," Mani said thoughtfully. "I know." Toug struggled to the top of another step. "This would be easier if there was something to hold on to." "I'll speak to them." "Org's supposed to do what Sir Svon tells him. Somebody told me that. I think it was you." "It may well have been." "Killing Master Crol wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. So why shouldn't Sir Svon tell Org to kill the king?" "I see no reason at all," Mani conceded. "However, he did not. I was eavesdropping, you see, when Svon gave Org his instructions. No mention was made of the king." "It's not nice to listen in when other people talk." "Though I hesitate to disagree, I must. I often find it pleasant, and at its best it can be quite educational. A cat who keeps his ears open learns a great deal." Toug climbed farther; he was nearing the floor he wanted and their talk would soon be at an end. He stopped, waving his torch to brighten its flame. "I think you ought to tell me everything. I need to know a lot more." "About what Sir Svon told Org?" Mani sprang from Toug's shoulder and stretched. "Well, it was while Sir Svon" "About what you and the witch are doing. She wants me to kill the king. If I do, we're going to be in a lot more trouble here than we are already." "She wants you to save Queen Idnn," Mani objected. "That's rather a different thing." "But she wants Sir Able to come back. She told Thiazi." "Whom we're supposed to fetch? Didn't I hear that? I assume Sir Svon wants him, since he sent you." Toug would not be deterred. "She told him the king ought to hire him if he wants to stay king, and that sounds like she's on the king's side." Mani smoothed his whiskers. "I doubt it." "Doesn't she tell you?" "She confides in me from time to time," Mani said stiffly. "However, she has not confided that. I was to accompany Sir Able and his awful dog. I was to serve Sir Able to the best of my poor ability, as I have. Sir Able gave me to Queen Idnn, and I transferred my loyalty to her without a murmur. She in turn gave me to her royal husband, another step up the social scale. You agree?" "But you're still the witch's," Toug declared bitterly. "Certainly." Mani sprang up the next step. "Oh, I see. You're afraid I'll tell King Gilling you plan to kill him." Toug, who had not thought of that, gaped. "I won't, of course. The point you fail to grasp is that I'm a loyal friend. If someone tried to kill him again in my presence, I might interfere. Or not. It would depend on the circumstances."