So my father was dead, and I had been left for dead. Who now
ruled in Ulmskeep? Jago — my mind fastened on the only friend I
might now find within those walls ahead. During the months I had
spent here as my father's deputy, I had acceptance but no following
to which I might look now for backing. But I must somehow learn
what had happened.
I drew into a screen of brush at the fence corner. The night
wind was chill, and I shivered, being unable to stop that trembling
of my body any effort produced. The keep would be closed at this
hour except for —
Now I could think more clearly. Perhaps the shock of seeing the
tattered banner had cleared my head. There was the Escape Way —
I do not know what brought our forefathers up from the south.
They left no records, only a curious silence concerning the reason
for their migration. But the fortifications they built here, their
way of life, hinted that they had lived in a state of peril. For
the petty warrings they engaged in here after their coming could
never have been so severe as to necessitate the precautions they
used.
They did not have to fight against the Old Ones for the dales.
Why then the keeps — one strong one built in each dale — with those
secret exit points known only to each lord and his direct heir? As
if each need look forward to some time of special danger when such
a bolt-hole would be in need.
Therefore, Ulmskeep had an entrance open to me, my father having
shown it to me secretly late one night. I had a way into the heart
of what might now be enemy territory and, if I were to learn
anything, that I must take. There was this also — I licked my lips
tasting blood, a sorry drink for me — there was this: perhaps the
last place they would search for me would be within that grim
building with its tattered, drooping banner.
I took my bearings from the keep and began to move with more
surety now that I had a goal in mind, though I did not relinquish
any of my care not to be seen. It was some distance I must go,
working my way carefully from wall to wall, from one bit of cover
to the next. There were lights in the keep windows and in those of
the village. One by one those winked out as I kept on at a snail's
pace, for I had schooled myself to patience, knowing that haste
might betray me.
A barking dog at a farmhouse, well up-slope, kept me frozen with
a pounding heart until a man shouted angrily and the brute was
still. So it took me some time to reach the place I hunted.
Ulmsdale was freer of those relics of the Old Ones than most of
the northern dales. In fact it was only here, in the shadow of the
Giant's Fist, that there were signs any had found their way into
this valley before the coming of my own race. And the monument to
the past was not an impressive one — merely a platform leveled
among the stones of these heights, for what purpose no man might
say.
The only remarkable thing about this smoothed stretch of stone
was that deep-carven in it was that creature from which the first
lord of Ulmsdale had taken his symbol — a gryphon. Even in this
uncertain light the lines of the creature's body were clear enough
to give me the bearings I needed.
So guided, I scrambled up the slope a little farther, my
bruised, stiff body protesting every action, until I found that
place in the wall of the valley where care had been taken
generations ago to set stones about a cunningly concealed
break.
I edged past those into a dark pocket. Until that moment I had
not realized the difficulties of this path without a light. Drawing
my sword, I used it to sound out walls and footing, trying to
remember as clearly as I could what lay before me now.
All too soon the sword met empty space, and I had found my
destination. I sheathed my blade and crouched to feel about with my
bare hands. Yes, this was the lip of the vent down which I must go.
I considered the descent. In the first place the boots fashioned to
hide my feet were built only for ordinary service. I distrusted
them when I had to use toe holds in the dark. In fact I was not
even sure my hoofed feet would serve there, but at least they would
be better free. So I wrested off my boots and fastened them to my
belt.
The substance of my hoofs was not affected by the chill of the
stone, seeming not to have the sensitivity of flesh, and somehow
with my feet free I felt secure enough to swing over and test
beneath me for footholds. I need not have worried; my hoofs settled
well into each and, heartened, I began the descent. I could not
recall how deep I must go. In fact when my father had brought me
hither we had not climbed this; he had only shown it to me from
below.
Thus I went down into the dark, and the space seemed to be
endless. It was not. A reaching hoof touched solid surface, and
very cautiously I placed the other hoof beside it. Now — a light
—
Fumbling in my pouch, I brought out my strike-light, keeping it
ready in one hand while I felt along the wall with the other. My
fingers caught at a knob of wood. I snapped the light, and the
torch flared, dazzling me with sudden illumination.
Not stopping to put on my boots, for I relished more and more
the freedom of my hooves, hitherto so cramped by concealment, I
started along a downward-sloping way which would bring me under the
dale-floor to the keep. It was a long way and, I think, more than
half of it was a natural fault, perhaps the bed of some stream
diverted by nature or man. The roof was low, and in several places
I went to hands and knees to pass.
But here I did not have to fear discovery, and I made the
fastest pace I could over the sand and gravel. The slope went
sharply downward for a space; then it leveled out, and I knew that
I was now in the valley. The keep could not be too far ahead.
My torch shone on a break in the wall of the passage, crude
steps going up at a steep angle — though the passage kept on — into
a sea-cave of which my father had told me. I thus had two ways of
escape.
I began to climb, knowing this stair was a long one. It went up
not only through the crag on which the keep was built, but within
the wall of that to my father's own chamber. Halfway up I paused
and rubbed out the torch on the wall. Now I needed both hands for
the holds here, and there were peepholes along the way where light
might betray me.
The first of these was in the barracks. A cresset burned low
against the far wall, leaving the room much-shadowed. There were
some men asleep here, but only a handful.
I climbed again and looked now into the great hall from a
position somewhere behind my father's high seat. There was a fire
on the hearth which was never allowed to go out. A serving-man
nodded on a bench near it and two hounds were curled up there —
nothing else. This was normal enough at this hour.
The end of the passage was before me, and I could no longer put
off reaching it — though I dreaded what might lie ahead.
Men freely use the word "love" to cover both light emotions,
such as affection and liking, and viler ones such as lust, or
strong attachments that last through life. I had never been one to
use it at all — for my life in youth had been devoid of much
emotion — fear, awe, respect were more real to me than "love." I
did not "love" my father. In the days that I had spent with him
after he had given me public acknowledgment, I respected him and
was loyally attached to his service.
Yet there always stood between us the manner of my upbringing;
that I had been hidden away. Though he had come to see me during
those years, had brought me small gifts such as boys delight in,
had provided well for me, yet I had always sensed in him an
uneasiness when we were together. I could not tell if that came
from his reaction to my deformity, or whether he reproached himself
for his treatment of me and yet could not bring himself to defy my
mother's feelings to name me openly son. I knew only, from very
early years, that our relationship was not akin to that of other
fathers and sons. And for a long time I thought that the fault was
mine, so I was ashamed and guilty in his presence.
Thus we built a wall stone by stone, each adding to it, and we
could not break it down. Which was a great loss, I know, for Ulric
of Ulmsdale was such a man as I could have "loved," had that
emotion ever been allowed to grow in me. Now as I went to his
chamber through the dark of this hidden way, I felt a sense of loss
such as had never emptied me before. As if I had once stood at the
door of a room filled with all the good things of this world and
yet had been prevented from entering in.
My hand was on the latch of the panel that opened inward,
concealed by the back of the huge, curtained bed. I inched this
open, listening. Almost I swung it shut again, for I heard voices
and saw the gleam of lamplight. But I remembered that so well-concealed was this way, that unless I crawled around the bed to
boldly confront the speakers, they would not know of my presence.
And certainly this was a chance to learn exactly what might be
going on. Thus I squeezed through the door and edged around the
head of the bed, the stiff, embroidered folds of the curtains
providing excellent cover, until I found a slit to let me see as
well as hear.
There were four in the room, two using for a seat the long chest
against the wall; one on a stool; and the last in the high-backed
chair in which my father had sat when I bid him farewell.
Hlymer and Rogear. On the stool a girl. I caught my breath, for
her face — leaving out those points of difference that were due to
her sex — could have been my own! And on the chair — I had no doubt
that for the first time in my life I was looking upon the Lady
Tephana.
She wore the ashen gray robes of a widow, but she had thrown
back the concealing veil, though the folds of it still covered her
hair. Her face was so youthful she could have been her daughter's
elder sister by only a year or two. There was nothing in her
features of Hlymer. By her cast of countenance I was indeed her
son.
I felt no emotion, only curiosity, as I looked at her. Since I
had reached the age of understanding, I had been aware that for all
purposes of living, I was motherless, and I had accepted that fact.
She had not even kin-tie to me as I watched her now.
She was speaking swiftly. Her hands, long-fingered, and with a
beauty that drew the eyes, flashed in and out in quick gestures as
she spoke. But what I saw and resented, was that on her thumb was
the gleam of my father's signet, which only the ruler in Ulmsdale
had the right to wear and which should have weighted my own
forefinger at this moment.
"They are fools! And because they are fools, should we be also?
When the news comes that Kerovan has been killed in the south, then
Lisana will be heir, and her lord" — she nodded to Rogear — "will
command here in her name. I tell you that these invaders offer good
terms. They need Ulmsport, but they do not want to fight for it. A
fight will gain nothing for us, for we cannot hold long against
what they can land. Who gains by death and destruction? The terms
are generous; we save this valley by such bargaining — "
"Willingly will I be Lisana's lord and Ulmsdale's," Rogear
answered, as she paused for breath. "As to the rest — " He shook
his head. "That is another matter. It is easy to make a bargain. To
keep it does not always suit the one in power. We can open gates
but not close them again thereafter. They know just how weak we
are."
"Weak? Are we? Say you that, Rogear?" Lady Tephana gazed at him
directly. "Foolish boy, do you then discount the inherited might of
our kin? I do not believe that these invaders have met their like
before."
He was still smiling, that small, secret smile which had always
led me to think that he carried within him some belief in himself
that far outreached what others saw in him. It was as if he could
draw upon some secret weapon as devastating in its way as those the
invaders had earlier sent against us.
"So, my dear lady, you think to invoke those? But take second
thoughts or even third upon that subject. What may answer comes at
its own whim and may not easily be controlled if it takes its own
road. We are kinsmen, but we are not truly of the blood."
I saw her face flush, and she pointed her finger at him. "Do you
dare to speak so to me, Rogear!" Her voice rose higher.
"I am not your late lord, my dear lady." If she threatened him
with that gesture, he did not show it. "His line was already
cursed, remember, thus making him easily malleable to anything
pertaining to them. I have the same counter-measures bred in me
that you have. I cannot be so easily shaped and ordered. Though
even your lord escaped you in the end, did he not? He named his
body-heir in spite of your spells and potions — "
Her face changed in a subtle way that made me suddenly queasy,
as if something had sickened my inner spirit. There was evil in
this room. I could smell it; see it sweep in to fill that vessel
waiting to hold it — that form of woman I refused to believe had
ever given me life.
"What did you deal with, my dear lady, in that shrine when you
bore my so-detested cousin, I wonder?" Rogear continued, still
smiling, though Hlymer drew away along the bench as if he expected
his mother to loose some blast in which he did not want to be
caught. "What bargain did you make — or was it made before my
cousin's birth? Did you cast a spell to bring Ulmsdale's lord to
your bed as your husband? For you have had long dealings with them,
and not with those on the White Path either. No, do not try that on
me. Do you think I ever come here unprotected?"
Her pointing finger had been drawing swift lines. Just as Riwal,
when he bade me farewell, had gestured in the air, and as I had
seen thereafter a faint gleam of light marking the symbol he had
traced in blessing, so did her finger leave behind a marking, or
pattern. The marking was smoky-dark. Still it could be seen in the
subdued light of the chamber, as if its darkness had the evil,
black quality.
Rogear's hand was up before his face. He held it palm-out, and
all those hand lines that we bear from birth and that are said by
the Wisewomen to foretell our futures stood out on his flesh as if
they had been traced in red. Behind that hand he still smiled
faintly.
I heard a short, bitten-off cry from the Lady Tephana, and her
hand dropped back into her lap. On her thumb the ring looked dull,
as if its honest fire had been eaten out by what she had done
moments earlier. I longed to free it from her flesh.
"Yes," Rogear continued, "you are not the only one, my dear
lady, to go seeking strong allies in hidden places. It is born into
us to have a taste for such matters. Now, having made sure that we
are equally matched, let us return to the matter at hand. Your
amiable son — " He paused and nodded slightly at Hlymer, though
Hlymer looked anything but amiable. He sat hunched-over, darting
glances first at his mother and then at Rogear, as if he feared one
and had begun to hate the other.
"Since your amiable son has rid us of the other barrier standing
in the way of possession of Ulmsdale, we must indeed make our
plans. But I do not altogether agree that we should deal with the
invaders."
"And why not?" she demanded. "Do you fear them? You, who have
that" — she nodded to his hand — "to stand to your defense?"
"No, I do not fear them personally. But neither do I intend to
give tamely into their hands any advantage. I believe, my dear
lady, that you can indeed summon thunder from the hills to
counteract any treachery that they might plan. But that which can
be so summoned will not take note of selective destruction, and I
do not propose to lose Ulmsdale in defending it."
"You will lose it anyway then." For the first time Lisana broke
silence. "Also, dear Rogear" — there was little liking in her voice
as she named him so — "we are not yet hand-fasted. Are you not a
little beforehand in naming yourself lord here?"
She spoke coolly, and regarded him straight-eyed, measuringly,
as if they were not betrothed but, rather, opponents at a
gamingboard.
"True spoken, my sweeting," he agreed amiably. Had I been Lisana
I would not have found that amiability pleasing, though. "Do you
intend to be lord as well as lady here?"
"I intend not to be any piece in your gaming, Rogear," she
returned swiftly, and there was no sign of uneasiness in her. He
stared at her as one who studied some new and perhaps unaccountable
thing. I thought I saw his eyes narrow a fraction. And then he
looked not to her but to her mother.
"Congratulations, my dear lady. So you have made sure of your
power this way also."
"Naturally. Did you expect any less?" She laughed. Then he
echoed that laughter.
"Indeed not, my dear lady. Ah, what a happy household we shall
be. I can see many amusing evenings before us, trying this spell
and that, testing each other's defenses."
"There will be no evenings at all," growled Hlymer, "unless we
unite upon what is to be done to hold Ulmsdale. And I see little
chance of that where the great lords have failed. Ulmsport is open
— they need only to bring up a goodly force and land. The keep can
hold out for a day, mayhap two — but — " He shrugged. "You have
heard all the tales; we shall end like the rest."
"I wonder." Rogear had lost that shadow-smile. He glanced from
Lady Tephana to Lisana and back again. "What if they cannot land?
Wind and wave, wind and wave — "
Lady Tephana was intent, regarding him in the same searching way
he had earlier looked upon Lisana. "That takes the Power."
"Which you have in part, and my sweeting" — he nodded to the
girl — "has in part, and to which I can add. Wind and wave have
this advantage also. It will seem a natural catastrophe and one
they will not fault us for. We shall be blameless. Follow in part
your suggestion, my dear lady, but do not treat, only seem to
treat. Then wind and wave—"
She moistened her lips with tongue tip. "It is a mighty
summoning."
"Perhaps one beyond your powers?"
"Not so!" She was quick to answer. "But it will take the three
of us truly united to do such a thing, and we must have life force
to draw upon."
He shrugged. "It is a pity that we cleared the path so well of
your lord's devoted followers. Hate can feed such a force, and we
could have used their hatred. That grumbler Jago, for example."
"He drew steel on me!" Hlymer shrilled. "As if a broken man
could touch me!"
"A broken man, no," Rogear agreed. "Had he been the man he once
was — well, I do not know, brother-to-be. At any rate there are
others to lend us life force. If we decide — "
Lisana had lost her cool withdrawal. I saw her eyes shine with
an avid hunger.
"We will!" she cried out. "Oh, we will!" For the first time
Rogear showed a faint shadow of uneasiness, and he spoke to the
Lady Tephana rather than to her daughter.
"Best curb your witchling, my dear lady. Some rush where
prudence walks with double care."
Lisana was on her feet so suddenly, her stool spun away as her
skirts caught it.
"Do not lesson me, Rogear! Look to your own Power, if you have
as much as you claim!"
"We shall all look to our Power," Lady Tephana replied. "But
such a plan takes preparation, and that we must turn to now." She
arose, and Hlymer went quickly to her side, offering his arm in
clumsy courtesy. It was almost, I thought, as if he would rather be
in her company than Rogear's. Lisana followed, and Rogear was left
alone.
My hand went to my sword hilt. What I had heard here filled me
with horror, though it explained much. That these were working with
Dark Power was plain, and they were not fresh come to such dealings
either. That they — or at least the Lady Tephana (for never again
in my mind did I think of her as my mother) — were old in such
work, they had admitted. If my father had been ensorcelled, as
Rogear had hinted, that explained much, and I could now forgive him
all. The wall was broken — too late for me to tell him so.
What they would enter upon now was some great summoning of the
Power. Perhaps it could save Ulmsdale — for their own purposes. But
dared I set my own love of country against them? If they aroused
some of the ancient forces of this brooding land against the enemy
successfully, then, even though I hated them, still I must count
them allies at this moment. So I watched Rogear go out from that
chamber, and I did not challenge him.
There was one thought only in my mind. I had no idea what might
be the consequences of the act they spoke of. In spite of the signs
set on me at birth, I had none of the talent those three appeared
to possess. There was only one in this land now from whom I could
seek enlightenment, to learn whether I must let them do this to
keep the dale free, or else turn what I could set against them to
ensure that they fail. Which was the greater danger — the summoning
of the Power or allowing the invaders foothold here? I could not
judge, but perhaps Riwal, with his learning in those matters,
might. There was nothing in my father's keep now but a trap, and
the sooner I was out of it the better, not only for my own safety,
but perhaps for the future safety of the dale itself. However, as I
went, I cherished in my mind those words concerning Jago. That
Hlymer had forced him to a fight I did not doubt. And someday he
would account to me for that.
By the time I reached the gryphon-marked stone on the hillside,
the night was far-advanced. Weariness added to the pain of bruises
and of my aching head, yet I was driven by time. The sooner I
reached Riwal the better. To do so on foot would be a lengthy
journey, and hunger gnawed at me.
How I might have fared had I not met the trader, I do not know.
But as I skulked along the dale rim, I came upon one of those
traces, not really a road, but in the summer seasons were used by
hunters and traders — especially those bound for the Waste.
I had taken to cover when I heard the clip-clop of hoofs on the
stone outcrop that comprised part of the trail, since I was fairly
sure that, even if he who came were not an enemy, he might report
me where it would do the least good. Only when I saw the manner of
man, who rode one rough-coated pony and led another, was I a little
easier.
He did not pass, but halted directly opposite the thicket
wherein I had taken cover and raised a peeled branch he carried in
his hand. Not quite a staff, nor yet a whip, for it was too thick
for that.
"Lord Kerovan — " He did not raise his voice. In fact he spoke
in a low tone, yet the words carried clearly to where I lay.
He wore the leather and rough wool of a poor traveler. Now he
pushed back his hood as if in revealing himself fully he would make
himself known to me. Yet I did not recall seeing his face
before.
Unlike most of the traders he was clean-jawed, his skin showing
little beard-marking. And his features had a slightly strange cast,
not quite those of a dalesman. His hair was clipped short and stood
out from his skull very thickly, more like the fur of an animal
pelt than any hair I had ever seen. Also it was brindled in color,
neither gray nor brown nor black, but a mixture of those
colors.
"Lord Kerovan!" He repeated my name and this time he beckoned
with his wand.
I could not resist that gesture. Whether I would or no, I had to
go to him, rising to my feet and pushing through the bushes that I
might show myself to one who might be a deadly enemy.
So my father was dead, and I had been left for dead. Who now
ruled in Ulmskeep? Jago — my mind fastened on the only friend I
might now find within those walls ahead. During the months I had
spent here as my father's deputy, I had acceptance but no following
to which I might look now for backing. But I must somehow learn
what had happened.
I drew into a screen of brush at the fence corner. The night
wind was chill, and I shivered, being unable to stop that trembling
of my body any effort produced. The keep would be closed at this
hour except for —
Now I could think more clearly. Perhaps the shock of seeing the
tattered banner had cleared my head. There was the Escape Way —
I do not know what brought our forefathers up from the south.
They left no records, only a curious silence concerning the reason
for their migration. But the fortifications they built here, their
way of life, hinted that they had lived in a state of peril. For
the petty warrings they engaged in here after their coming could
never have been so severe as to necessitate the precautions they
used.
They did not have to fight against the Old Ones for the dales.
Why then the keeps — one strong one built in each dale — with those
secret exit points known only to each lord and his direct heir? As
if each need look forward to some time of special danger when such
a bolt-hole would be in need.
Therefore, Ulmskeep had an entrance open to me, my father having
shown it to me secretly late one night. I had a way into the heart
of what might now be enemy territory and, if I were to learn
anything, that I must take. There was this also — I licked my lips
tasting blood, a sorry drink for me — there was this: perhaps the
last place they would search for me would be within that grim
building with its tattered, drooping banner.
I took my bearings from the keep and began to move with more
surety now that I had a goal in mind, though I did not relinquish
any of my care not to be seen. It was some distance I must go,
working my way carefully from wall to wall, from one bit of cover
to the next. There were lights in the keep windows and in those of
the village. One by one those winked out as I kept on at a snail's
pace, for I had schooled myself to patience, knowing that haste
might betray me.
A barking dog at a farmhouse, well up-slope, kept me frozen with
a pounding heart until a man shouted angrily and the brute was
still. So it took me some time to reach the place I hunted.
Ulmsdale was freer of those relics of the Old Ones than most of
the northern dales. In fact it was only here, in the shadow of the
Giant's Fist, that there were signs any had found their way into
this valley before the coming of my own race. And the monument to
the past was not an impressive one — merely a platform leveled
among the stones of these heights, for what purpose no man might
say.
The only remarkable thing about this smoothed stretch of stone
was that deep-carven in it was that creature from which the first
lord of Ulmsdale had taken his symbol — a gryphon. Even in this
uncertain light the lines of the creature's body were clear enough
to give me the bearings I needed.
So guided, I scrambled up the slope a little farther, my
bruised, stiff body protesting every action, until I found that
place in the wall of the valley where care had been taken
generations ago to set stones about a cunningly concealed
break.
I edged past those into a dark pocket. Until that moment I had
not realized the difficulties of this path without a light. Drawing
my sword, I used it to sound out walls and footing, trying to
remember as clearly as I could what lay before me now.
All too soon the sword met empty space, and I had found my
destination. I sheathed my blade and crouched to feel about with my
bare hands. Yes, this was the lip of the vent down which I must go.
I considered the descent. In the first place the boots fashioned to
hide my feet were built only for ordinary service. I distrusted
them when I had to use toe holds in the dark. In fact I was not
even sure my hoofed feet would serve there, but at least they would
be better free. So I wrested off my boots and fastened them to my
belt.
The substance of my hoofs was not affected by the chill of the
stone, seeming not to have the sensitivity of flesh, and somehow
with my feet free I felt secure enough to swing over and test
beneath me for footholds. I need not have worried; my hoofs settled
well into each and, heartened, I began the descent. I could not
recall how deep I must go. In fact when my father had brought me
hither we had not climbed this; he had only shown it to me from
below.
Thus I went down into the dark, and the space seemed to be
endless. It was not. A reaching hoof touched solid surface, and
very cautiously I placed the other hoof beside it. Now — a light
—
Fumbling in my pouch, I brought out my strike-light, keeping it
ready in one hand while I felt along the wall with the other. My
fingers caught at a knob of wood. I snapped the light, and the
torch flared, dazzling me with sudden illumination.
Not stopping to put on my boots, for I relished more and more
the freedom of my hooves, hitherto so cramped by concealment, I
started along a downward-sloping way which would bring me under the
dale-floor to the keep. It was a long way and, I think, more than
half of it was a natural fault, perhaps the bed of some stream
diverted by nature or man. The roof was low, and in several places
I went to hands and knees to pass.
But here I did not have to fear discovery, and I made the
fastest pace I could over the sand and gravel. The slope went
sharply downward for a space; then it leveled out, and I knew that
I was now in the valley. The keep could not be too far ahead.
My torch shone on a break in the wall of the passage, crude
steps going up at a steep angle — though the passage kept on — into
a sea-cave of which my father had told me. I thus had two ways of
escape.
I began to climb, knowing this stair was a long one. It went up
not only through the crag on which the keep was built, but within
the wall of that to my father's own chamber. Halfway up I paused
and rubbed out the torch on the wall. Now I needed both hands for
the holds here, and there were peepholes along the way where light
might betray me.
The first of these was in the barracks. A cresset burned low
against the far wall, leaving the room much-shadowed. There were
some men asleep here, but only a handful.
I climbed again and looked now into the great hall from a
position somewhere behind my father's high seat. There was a fire
on the hearth which was never allowed to go out. A serving-man
nodded on a bench near it and two hounds were curled up there —
nothing else. This was normal enough at this hour.
The end of the passage was before me, and I could no longer put
off reaching it — though I dreaded what might lie ahead.
Men freely use the word "love" to cover both light emotions,
such as affection and liking, and viler ones such as lust, or
strong attachments that last through life. I had never been one to
use it at all — for my life in youth had been devoid of much
emotion — fear, awe, respect were more real to me than "love." I
did not "love" my father. In the days that I had spent with him
after he had given me public acknowledgment, I respected him and
was loyally attached to his service.
Yet there always stood between us the manner of my upbringing;
that I had been hidden away. Though he had come to see me during
those years, had brought me small gifts such as boys delight in,
had provided well for me, yet I had always sensed in him an
uneasiness when we were together. I could not tell if that came
from his reaction to my deformity, or whether he reproached himself
for his treatment of me and yet could not bring himself to defy my
mother's feelings to name me openly son. I knew only, from very
early years, that our relationship was not akin to that of other
fathers and sons. And for a long time I thought that the fault was
mine, so I was ashamed and guilty in his presence.
Thus we built a wall stone by stone, each adding to it, and we
could not break it down. Which was a great loss, I know, for Ulric
of Ulmsdale was such a man as I could have "loved," had that
emotion ever been allowed to grow in me. Now as I went to his
chamber through the dark of this hidden way, I felt a sense of loss
such as had never emptied me before. As if I had once stood at the
door of a room filled with all the good things of this world and
yet had been prevented from entering in.
My hand was on the latch of the panel that opened inward,
concealed by the back of the huge, curtained bed. I inched this
open, listening. Almost I swung it shut again, for I heard voices
and saw the gleam of lamplight. But I remembered that so well-concealed was this way, that unless I crawled around the bed to
boldly confront the speakers, they would not know of my presence.
And certainly this was a chance to learn exactly what might be
going on. Thus I squeezed through the door and edged around the
head of the bed, the stiff, embroidered folds of the curtains
providing excellent cover, until I found a slit to let me see as
well as hear.
There were four in the room, two using for a seat the long chest
against the wall; one on a stool; and the last in the high-backed
chair in which my father had sat when I bid him farewell.
Hlymer and Rogear. On the stool a girl. I caught my breath, for
her face — leaving out those points of difference that were due to
her sex — could have been my own! And on the chair — I had no doubt
that for the first time in my life I was looking upon the Lady
Tephana.
She wore the ashen gray robes of a widow, but she had thrown
back the concealing veil, though the folds of it still covered her
hair. Her face was so youthful she could have been her daughter's
elder sister by only a year or two. There was nothing in her
features of Hlymer. By her cast of countenance I was indeed her
son.
I felt no emotion, only curiosity, as I looked at her. Since I
had reached the age of understanding, I had been aware that for all
purposes of living, I was motherless, and I had accepted that fact.
She had not even kin-tie to me as I watched her now.
She was speaking swiftly. Her hands, long-fingered, and with a
beauty that drew the eyes, flashed in and out in quick gestures as
she spoke. But what I saw and resented, was that on her thumb was
the gleam of my father's signet, which only the ruler in Ulmsdale
had the right to wear and which should have weighted my own
forefinger at this moment.
"They are fools! And because they are fools, should we be also?
When the news comes that Kerovan has been killed in the south, then
Lisana will be heir, and her lord" — she nodded to Rogear — "will
command here in her name. I tell you that these invaders offer good
terms. They need Ulmsport, but they do not want to fight for it. A
fight will gain nothing for us, for we cannot hold long against
what they can land. Who gains by death and destruction? The terms
are generous; we save this valley by such bargaining — "
"Willingly will I be Lisana's lord and Ulmsdale's," Rogear
answered, as she paused for breath. "As to the rest — " He shook
his head. "That is another matter. It is easy to make a bargain. To
keep it does not always suit the one in power. We can open gates
but not close them again thereafter. They know just how weak we
are."
"Weak? Are we? Say you that, Rogear?" Lady Tephana gazed at him
directly. "Foolish boy, do you then discount the inherited might of
our kin? I do not believe that these invaders have met their like
before."
He was still smiling, that small, secret smile which had always
led me to think that he carried within him some belief in himself
that far outreached what others saw in him. It was as if he could
draw upon some secret weapon as devastating in its way as those the
invaders had earlier sent against us.
"So, my dear lady, you think to invoke those? But take second
thoughts or even third upon that subject. What may answer comes at
its own whim and may not easily be controlled if it takes its own
road. We are kinsmen, but we are not truly of the blood."
I saw her face flush, and she pointed her finger at him. "Do you
dare to speak so to me, Rogear!" Her voice rose higher.
"I am not your late lord, my dear lady." If she threatened him
with that gesture, he did not show it. "His line was already
cursed, remember, thus making him easily malleable to anything
pertaining to them. I have the same counter-measures bred in me
that you have. I cannot be so easily shaped and ordered. Though
even your lord escaped you in the end, did he not? He named his
body-heir in spite of your spells and potions — "
Her face changed in a subtle way that made me suddenly queasy,
as if something had sickened my inner spirit. There was evil in
this room. I could smell it; see it sweep in to fill that vessel
waiting to hold it — that form of woman I refused to believe had
ever given me life.
"What did you deal with, my dear lady, in that shrine when you
bore my so-detested cousin, I wonder?" Rogear continued, still
smiling, though Hlymer drew away along the bench as if he expected
his mother to loose some blast in which he did not want to be
caught. "What bargain did you make — or was it made before my
cousin's birth? Did you cast a spell to bring Ulmsdale's lord to
your bed as your husband? For you have had long dealings with them,
and not with those on the White Path either. No, do not try that on
me. Do you think I ever come here unprotected?"
Her pointing finger had been drawing swift lines. Just as Riwal,
when he bade me farewell, had gestured in the air, and as I had
seen thereafter a faint gleam of light marking the symbol he had
traced in blessing, so did her finger leave behind a marking, or
pattern. The marking was smoky-dark. Still it could be seen in the
subdued light of the chamber, as if its darkness had the evil,
black quality.
Rogear's hand was up before his face. He held it palm-out, and
all those hand lines that we bear from birth and that are said by
the Wisewomen to foretell our futures stood out on his flesh as if
they had been traced in red. Behind that hand he still smiled
faintly.
I heard a short, bitten-off cry from the Lady Tephana, and her
hand dropped back into her lap. On her thumb the ring looked dull,
as if its honest fire had been eaten out by what she had done
moments earlier. I longed to free it from her flesh.
"Yes," Rogear continued, "you are not the only one, my dear
lady, to go seeking strong allies in hidden places. It is born into
us to have a taste for such matters. Now, having made sure that we
are equally matched, let us return to the matter at hand. Your
amiable son — " He paused and nodded slightly at Hlymer, though
Hlymer looked anything but amiable. He sat hunched-over, darting
glances first at his mother and then at Rogear, as if he feared one
and had begun to hate the other.
"Since your amiable son has rid us of the other barrier standing
in the way of possession of Ulmsdale, we must indeed make our
plans. But I do not altogether agree that we should deal with the
invaders."
"And why not?" she demanded. "Do you fear them? You, who have
that" — she nodded to his hand — "to stand to your defense?"
"No, I do not fear them personally. But neither do I intend to
give tamely into their hands any advantage. I believe, my dear
lady, that you can indeed summon thunder from the hills to
counteract any treachery that they might plan. But that which can
be so summoned will not take note of selective destruction, and I
do not propose to lose Ulmsdale in defending it."
"You will lose it anyway then." For the first time Lisana broke
silence. "Also, dear Rogear" — there was little liking in her voice
as she named him so — "we are not yet hand-fasted. Are you not a
little beforehand in naming yourself lord here?"
She spoke coolly, and regarded him straight-eyed, measuringly,
as if they were not betrothed but, rather, opponents at a
gamingboard.
"True spoken, my sweeting," he agreed amiably. Had I been Lisana
I would not have found that amiability pleasing, though. "Do you
intend to be lord as well as lady here?"
"I intend not to be any piece in your gaming, Rogear," she
returned swiftly, and there was no sign of uneasiness in her. He
stared at her as one who studied some new and perhaps unaccountable
thing. I thought I saw his eyes narrow a fraction. And then he
looked not to her but to her mother.
"Congratulations, my dear lady. So you have made sure of your
power this way also."
"Naturally. Did you expect any less?" She laughed. Then he
echoed that laughter.
"Indeed not, my dear lady. Ah, what a happy household we shall
be. I can see many amusing evenings before us, trying this spell
and that, testing each other's defenses."
"There will be no evenings at all," growled Hlymer, "unless we
unite upon what is to be done to hold Ulmsdale. And I see little
chance of that where the great lords have failed. Ulmsport is open
— they need only to bring up a goodly force and land. The keep can
hold out for a day, mayhap two — but — " He shrugged. "You have
heard all the tales; we shall end like the rest."
"I wonder." Rogear had lost that shadow-smile. He glanced from
Lady Tephana to Lisana and back again. "What if they cannot land?
Wind and wave, wind and wave — "
Lady Tephana was intent, regarding him in the same searching way
he had earlier looked upon Lisana. "That takes the Power."
"Which you have in part, and my sweeting" — he nodded to the
girl — "has in part, and to which I can add. Wind and wave have
this advantage also. It will seem a natural catastrophe and one
they will not fault us for. We shall be blameless. Follow in part
your suggestion, my dear lady, but do not treat, only seem to
treat. Then wind and wave—"
She moistened her lips with tongue tip. "It is a mighty
summoning."
"Perhaps one beyond your powers?"
"Not so!" She was quick to answer. "But it will take the three
of us truly united to do such a thing, and we must have life force
to draw upon."
He shrugged. "It is a pity that we cleared the path so well of
your lord's devoted followers. Hate can feed such a force, and we
could have used their hatred. That grumbler Jago, for example."
"He drew steel on me!" Hlymer shrilled. "As if a broken man
could touch me!"
"A broken man, no," Rogear agreed. "Had he been the man he once
was — well, I do not know, brother-to-be. At any rate there are
others to lend us life force. If we decide — "
Lisana had lost her cool withdrawal. I saw her eyes shine with
an avid hunger.
"We will!" she cried out. "Oh, we will!" For the first time
Rogear showed a faint shadow of uneasiness, and he spoke to the
Lady Tephana rather than to her daughter.
"Best curb your witchling, my dear lady. Some rush where
prudence walks with double care."
Lisana was on her feet so suddenly, her stool spun away as her
skirts caught it.
"Do not lesson me, Rogear! Look to your own Power, if you have
as much as you claim!"
"We shall all look to our Power," Lady Tephana replied. "But
such a plan takes preparation, and that we must turn to now." She
arose, and Hlymer went quickly to her side, offering his arm in
clumsy courtesy. It was almost, I thought, as if he would rather be
in her company than Rogear's. Lisana followed, and Rogear was left
alone.
My hand went to my sword hilt. What I had heard here filled me
with horror, though it explained much. That these were working with
Dark Power was plain, and they were not fresh come to such dealings
either. That they — or at least the Lady Tephana (for never again
in my mind did I think of her as my mother) — were old in such
work, they had admitted. If my father had been ensorcelled, as
Rogear had hinted, that explained much, and I could now forgive him
all. The wall was broken — too late for me to tell him so.
What they would enter upon now was some great summoning of the
Power. Perhaps it could save Ulmsdale — for their own purposes. But
dared I set my own love of country against them? If they aroused
some of the ancient forces of this brooding land against the enemy
successfully, then, even though I hated them, still I must count
them allies at this moment. So I watched Rogear go out from that
chamber, and I did not challenge him.
There was one thought only in my mind. I had no idea what might
be the consequences of the act they spoke of. In spite of the signs
set on me at birth, I had none of the talent those three appeared
to possess. There was only one in this land now from whom I could
seek enlightenment, to learn whether I must let them do this to
keep the dale free, or else turn what I could set against them to
ensure that they fail. Which was the greater danger — the summoning
of the Power or allowing the invaders foothold here? I could not
judge, but perhaps Riwal, with his learning in those matters,
might. There was nothing in my father's keep now but a trap, and
the sooner I was out of it the better, not only for my own safety,
but perhaps for the future safety of the dale itself. However, as I
went, I cherished in my mind those words concerning Jago. That
Hlymer had forced him to a fight I did not doubt. And someday he
would account to me for that.
By the time I reached the gryphon-marked stone on the hillside,
the night was far-advanced. Weariness added to the pain of bruises
and of my aching head, yet I was driven by time. The sooner I
reached Riwal the better. To do so on foot would be a lengthy
journey, and hunger gnawed at me.
How I might have fared had I not met the trader, I do not know.
But as I skulked along the dale rim, I came upon one of those
traces, not really a road, but in the summer seasons were used by
hunters and traders — especially those bound for the Waste.
I had taken to cover when I heard the clip-clop of hoofs on the
stone outcrop that comprised part of the trail, since I was fairly
sure that, even if he who came were not an enemy, he might report
me where it would do the least good. Only when I saw the manner of
man, who rode one rough-coated pony and led another, was I a little
easier.
He did not pass, but halted directly opposite the thicket
wherein I had taken cover and raised a peeled branch he carried in
his hand. Not quite a staff, nor yet a whip, for it was too thick
for that.
"Lord Kerovan — " He did not raise his voice. In fact he spoke
in a low tone, yet the words carried clearly to where I lay.
He wore the leather and rough wool of a poor traveler. Now he
pushed back his hood as if in revealing himself fully he would make
himself known to me. Yet I did not recall seeing his face
before.
Unlike most of the traders he was clean-jawed, his skin showing
little beard-marking. And his features had a slightly strange cast,
not quite those of a dalesman. His hair was clipped short and stood
out from his skull very thickly, more like the fur of an animal
pelt than any hair I had ever seen. Also it was brindled in color,
neither gray nor brown nor black, but a mixture of those
colors.
"Lord Kerovan!" He repeated my name and this time he beckoned
with his wand.
I could not resist that gesture. Whether I would or no, I had to
go to him, rising to my feet and pushing through the bushes that I
might show myself to one who might be a deadly enemy.