I saw the shrinking in her eyes and knew that there could I
naught between us. But it was only in my losing that I came to
learn how much I had held in my heart the thought to at least one,
I would be no monster but a man. How right had been that instinct
that had kept me from obeying her wish and sending her my portrait.
For she would never know now that I was Kerovan.
That Joisan took me to be one of the Old Ones was a two-way
matter. On the one hand it kept her from asking questions that I
must either struggle to evade or to which I must give answers. On
the other hand she would expect from me some evidences of the
"Power." For that lack, I would also need to find excuses. But for
a few days I could set actions before words.
The poor camp was a refuge for a pitiful band. There were but
four who might be termed — very loosely indeed — fighting men. Two
were past middle age, one lacked a hand, the other an eye. There
was a green boy who I suspected had never drawn steel, and a hill
shepherd who was wounded. The rest were women and children, though
of that number there were some who could stand shoulder to shoulder
with any armsman if there be need.
Mostly they were villagers, but there were two other ladies —
one old, one young. The older was in a state of shock and had to be
watched lest she wander off. Joisan confided in me that her son had
been slain and that she now refused to accept that, but wished to
search for him.
Of Ithdale itself she had a strange tale, almost as strange as
the blasting of Ulmskeep. It seemed that one of her own House had
called down some manifestation of the Power on the keep, catching
thereby a goodly number of the Hounds. But before that there had
been some warning, and she hoped many of her people had managed to
flee westward. Their goal was Norsdale, but now they had no guide.
Also there was one of the women who had recently given birth and
could not travel long or hard.
It was then I thought of that fortress in the lake and how it
could be a shelter for this band until they recovered strength.
That much I could do for my lady, bring her and hers to a roof over
their heads and a small measure of safety.
That she wore my gift was no matter of pride for me, for I was
certain she did not wear it because of any attachment for its
giver, but rather because she delighted in it for itself. Now and
then I saw her hand seek and caress it, almost as if from such
fondling she received strength.
The younger of the two ladies, Yngilda, who was kinsman to
Joisan, I did not like. She watched my lady from under downcast
lids with a sly hatred, though Joisan showed no ill will toward
her. What lay between them in the past I had no inkling, but this
Yngilda I would noways trust.
Of Joisan herself — but those thoughts I battled, summoning
always in answer to them the memory of her expression when she had
seen my unbooted feet. How wise I had been in my choice to bare
that deformity to the world. Had I continued to hide it, made
myself known to Joisan, found her welcoming and then — No, it was
far better to eat bitterness early than to have it twist one doubly
by following on the sweet.
That Joisan was such a lady as one might treasure, that I
learned in those few days when, under my guidance, they made their
way to the keep in the lake. Though many times she must have been
weary and downhearted, yet she was ready to shoulder duty's burdens
without complaint. And her courage was as great as her heart. Had I
only been as other men —
Now I chewed upon the sourness of that memory-vision in which
she had supported a dying man in grief. Did that lie in the past or
the future? I had no right to question her, for I had surrendered
that with my claim upon her.
Somehow, if it was in my power, I would get them to what safety
Norsdale promised. Then — well, I was now a landless man. It would
be easy to drop out of reckoning. I could join some lord's menie.
Or I could go into the Waste, where those who were outcast from the
dales carried their shame or despair. However, I would see Joisan
safe before I said farewell.
When those from Ithdale had settled into the keep and had
mastered the defensive use of the sliding bridge, I sought Joisan
and told her that I must scout for the invaders. That was in part
the truth, but with that need there was another, that I go forth
and do battle with myself, for there were times when she seemed to
reach to me. Not with hand, or invitation of voice. But she would
look at me when she thought my attention elsewhere, and there was a
vague questioning in her face, as if she sensed that there was a
bond between us.
Because there was a weakness in me that yearned toward making
myself known, trading on any familiarity that had grown, I was
determined that I must get away until I could build such an inner
control as would never yield. In her eyes at first sighting I had
been a monster. Because she now believed me an Old One with whom
the human standards of form did not hold, she accepted me fully.
But as a man — I was flawed.
On leaving the lake keep, I circled out to the north and west.
This was wild country, though it did not have the desolation of the
Waste. Nor did I come upon any other Old Ones' ruins, as I expected
to with the impressive lake structure so near.
Three days I quested in the direction I thought we must follow
to Norsdale. Though I did not know any trail, I had a good idea of
the general direction. The way was rough; the wider dalelands of
the east changed here to a series of knife-narrow valleys walled by
sharp ridges, weary path for foot travelers. Also they would not be
able to go fast. And I began to wonder as I struck more westerly
whether they would not be better placed to wait within the lake
keep for spring.
On the fourth day I cut across a fresh trail. It was of a small
party, not more than four. They were mounted, but their animals
were plainly not the heavier beasts the Hounds favored, the tracks
being those of unshod hill ponies. More fugitives? Perhaps — but in
times of war no man accepts an untested assumption.
Joisan had told me her people had been widely scattered when
they fled. These could be more from Ithdale. I had a duty to make
sure, to guide them if they were.
Yet I took no chances and followed with a scout's wiles. The
trail was, I believed, several days old. Twice I came to where they
had camped, or rather sheltered, for there were no signs of fires.
Also — their going spoke of more than flight — it was as if they
knew exactly where they were going, driven more by purpose than
fear.
Their direction, making allowances for natural obstacles, led
directly to the lake keep. Noting that, I was more than a little
uneasy. Four men did not make a formidable force, but four men,
armed and ready, could take Joisan's people by surprise. And these
might be outlaws drawn out of the Waste by the bait of loot.
I might have held their trail had it not been for the storm. It
came with the evening of the same day. Though it was a summer
shower compared to the fury I had seen unleashed in Ulmsdale, yet
it was not an easy torrent of rain or force of wind to face. With
darkness added, I was made to seek cover and wait it out.
As I waited, my mind fastened on one evil chance after another.
I could not rid myself of the belief that these I followed were
unfriends. And I had lived on the edge of the Waste too many years
not to know what outlaws would do to the helpless. Now I could only
hold to self-control, try to believe that Joisan had followed my
last orders and taken up the bridge section and that they would not
admit strangers to the keep. Ithkrypt had not known such raiders.
They could accept any dalesman as friend.
By morning the storm had cleared, but it had washed away the
trail. I was too concerned to cast about hunting it. The need to
return to the lake, discover what chanced there, rode me
strong.
But I had two days yet on the way, even though I pushed myself
and Hiku to the limit of endurance. When I came into the lake
valley and saw the keep, I had worked myself into such a state of
foreboding as prepared me to find a bloody massacre.
There was a hail from one of the largely overgrown fields that
brought me up short. Nalda and two of the other women waved from a
peaceful scene. They were engaged in harvesting the thin stand of
stunted grain, gleaning every stalk and heaping it on two outspread
cloaks.
"Fair news, my Lord!" Nalda's voice rang loud in my ears as she
crossed the field to reach me. "My lady's lord has come at last! He
heard of her distress and rode to her service!"
I stared at her unbelieving. Then common sense made it all clear
— she did not mean Joisan, of course. She spoke of the lord wed to
Yngilda—though I had thought he was supposed to have died when his
keep was overrun in the south.
"The Lady Yngilda must be giving praise to Gunnora at this
hour," I had wit enough to answer.
Nalda stared at me as strangely as perhaps I had at her a moment
earlier.
"That one—she is widowed, not wed! No, it is the Lord Kerovan,
he who has been so long wed to our dear lady! He rode in three days
since — to rejoice our hearts. Lord, my lady has asked all to watch
for you, to urge you to hasten to the keep — "
"Be sure that I shall!" I said between set teeth. Who this false
Kerovan was, I had no idea, but that I must see him, must save
Joisan from any danger. Someone who knew of our marriage, who
perhaps thought me dead, was taking advantage of the situation. And
the thought that he could be with Joisan now was like a sword
through me. That she might in time turn to another I had tried to
endure, but that another had come to her in false guise — that I
would not countenance.
For now I could call on my repute as an Old One of unknown but
awesome powers. I could proclaim Kerovan dead, unmask this
intruder, and she would believe me. Thus I had only to reach the
keep, confront the impostor.
I urged my weary Hiku to a trot, though I longed to fling myself
from his back, go pounding ahead into the keep, to call out this
thief of another man's name and slay him out of hand — not because
he had taken my name, but because he had boldly used it as a cloak
to reach Joisan. In that moment how I wished I was truly what she
thought me, one who could summon forces beyond the understanding of
men.
Angarl, the one-handed, was on sentry duty and gave me a
greeting I forced myself to answer. Very shortly I was in the
courtyard. The deserted emptiness which had restrained me on my
first visit here from too-detailed exploration was gone. Life had
returned to the hold, and it was now a place for humans.
Two men loitered by the water-trough, chaffing with one of the
village girls, their deeper laughter banishing even more the
atmosphere of the alien. They wore House badges adorned with my
gryphon on their over-jerkins.
Before they looked up, I studied them. Neither was familiar. I
had begun to wonder if survivors from Ulmsdale might have been
drawn into this. However, the fact I did not recognize them meant
little, for I had been away from Ulmskeep for months before my
father's death, and he might have hired newcomers to augment his
forces, taking the places of those who rode south with me.
That they wore such badges meant this was no hastily improvised
scheme on the part of someone who had heard a rumor or two. Here
was careful preparation — but why? Had Joisan still had Ithkrypt
with men and arms, then I could have understood such a move. The
false Kerovan would have ruled in Ithdale. But she was a landless,
homeless fugitive. Why then?
One of the men glanced up, saw me, and nudged his fellow. Their
laughter was gone; they eyed me warily. But I did not approach
them. Rather I slid from Hiku's back and walked, stiff with the
weariness of the trail, toward that tower room Joisan had made her
own.
"You — !" The call was harsh, arrogant.
I swung around to see the two armsmen striding toward me. It was
not until they fronted me that they seemed to realize I differed
from their kind. I faced them calmly, bringing into my bearing the
stiffness of one who has been approached by those beneath him in
rank in a manner highly unbecoming.
"You — " the leader began again, but he was now uncertain. I saw
his comrade nudge him in the ribs. It was the second man who now
pushed a little to the fore.
"Your pardon, Lord," he said, his eyes searching me up and down.
"Whom do you seek?"
His assumption of a steward's duties here fed my anger.
"Not you, fellow." I turned away.
Perhaps they would have liked to have intercepted me, but they
did not quite dare. And I did not look to them again as I came to
the tower doorway, now curtained with a horse blanket.
"Good fortune to the house!" I raised my voice.
"Lord Amber!" The blanket was thrust aside and Joisan stood
before me.
There was that in her face at that moment which hurt. So he had
won this already, this radiance! So ill had I played my part I had
thrown away all. All? Another part of me questioned it. I had
already decided that this was not for me. How could I then question
her happiness if one she believed to be her lord had come to serve
her in the depths of her need? That he was an impostor was all I
must think on, that she must not be deceived.
"Lord Amber, you have come!" She put forth her hand, but did not
quite touch mine, which I had raised against my will. Having spoken
so, she stood looking at me. I could not understand.
"Who comes, my fair one?"
I knew that voice from the dusk of the room behind her. Knowing
it, my hate near broke bounds so that I thirsted to draw steel and
press into combat. Rogear here — but why? "Lord Amber, have you
heard? My lord has come — hearing of our troubles he has come —
"
She spoke hurriedly and there was that in her voice which made
me watch her closely. I had seen Joisan afraid. I had seen her rise
above fear and pain of heart and mind, be strong for others to lean
upon. But at this moment I thought that it was not joy that colored
her tone. Outwardly she might present this smiling face, inwardly —
no —
Her lord had not brought her happiness! Excitement stirred in me
at that which I thought no guess but honest truth. She had not
found in Rogear what she sought.
She retreated a step or two, though she had not answered his
question. I followed, to stand facing my mother's kin. He wore a
war tabard over his mail, with that gryphon to which he had no
right worked on it. Above that his face was handsome, his mouth
curved in that small secret smile, until he saw me —
In that instant the smile was wiped from his lips. His eyes
narrowed, and there was about him watchfulness as if we both held
swords in hand and were set against one another. "My Lord." Joisan
spoke hurriedly, as if she sensed what lay between us and wished to
avoid battle. But she addressed me first as the higher in rank.
"This is my promised Lord, Kerovan who is heir to Ulmsdale."
"Lord Kerovan?" I made a question of that. I could denounce
Rogear at once. But so could he me. Or could he? That which had
been my bane, my deformity — would not Joisan continue to think it
proved me alien? At any rate, Rogear must not be allowed to play
any dark game here — whether it meant Joisan turning from me in
disgust or not
"I think not!" My words fell into the silence like blows. In
that moment Rogear's hand came up, something flashing in it.
From it struck a ray of light straight at my head. Pain burst
behind my eyes, I was both blind and in such agony that I could not
think, only feel I staggered back against the wall, fighting to
keep my feet. My arm was upflung in a futile effort to counter this
stroke I was unprepared to face. I heard Joisan scream, and hard
upon that cry another of rage and pain. Still blind, I was thrust
aside and fell to the floor. Joisan screamed again, and I heard
sounds of a struggle.
But I could not see! Not trying to rise, I threw myself toward
the sounds.
"No! No!" Joisan's voice. "Loose me!" Rogear had Joisan! A foot
stamped upon my hand, giving me a second thrust of agony so great I
could not stand it, yet I must! If he had Joisan, could drag her
out —
I flung out my sound arm, touched a body, embraced kicking legs,
and threw the weight of my shoulder against him, bearing him under
me to the floor.
"Joisan — run!" I cried. I could not fight when I could not see;
I could only hold on, taking his blows, trying to keep him so she
could escape.
"No!" Her voice again, and with a cold note in it that I had
never heard before. "Lie you very still, my Lord."
"Lord Amber," she said now, "I hold a knife blade to his throat.
You may loose him."
He did indeed lie as one who would offer no more fight. I backed
away a little.
"You say," she continued in that same tone, "this is not
Kerovan. Why, my Lord?"
I made my choice. "Kerovan is dead, my Lady. Dead in an ambush
laid by this Rogear above his father's keep. This Rogear has
knowledge of the Old Ones — from the Dark Path — "
I heard a quickly drawn breath. "Dead? And this one dares to
wear my lord's name to deceive me?"
Rogear spoke up then. "Tell her your name—"
"As you know, we do not give our names to mankind," I
improvised.
"Mankind? And what are — "
"Lord Kerovan." My head jerked toward that new voice. "What do
you — " It was one of the armsmen from the courtyard.
"Lord Kerovan does nothing," Joisan answered. "As for this one,
take him and ride."
"Shall we take her, Lord?" asked the armsman.
I had gotten to my feet, faced toward that voice, though I could
not see.
"Let the wench go. She is of no importance now." By his tone
Rogear had regained his full confidence.
"And him, Lord?" Someone was moving toward me. My crushed hand
hung useless. In any event I could not see him.
"No!" Rogear's answer was the exact opposite of what I expected
to hear. In that moment a single thrust from a sword would have
finished it all in his favor, and he could have had his will of
Joisan. 'Touch him on your perill"
"We ride," he added. "I have what I came for — "
"No! Not that! Give me the gryphon!" Joisan's cry ended in the
thud of a blow, and her slight body struck against mine. She would
have slipped to the floor, but I flung my arm about her. They were
gone, though I cried out for any in the courtyard to stop them.
"Joisan!" I held her close against me. She was a slack weight—if
I could only see! What had that devil done to her? "Joisan!" Had he
killed her?
But Joisan was not dead, only struck senseless, as those who
came running told me. As for Rogear and his men, they were away. I
sat by Joisan's bed, holding her hand in mine. About my useless
eyes was bound a cloth wet in water in which herbs had been
steeped. Only in that hour did I begin to face the fact that
perhaps my sight was gone from me. Just as I had not been able to
save Joisan from that last blow, so I would never again be able to
step between her and any other harm. That was the black hour in
which I learned how much she had come to be a part of me. The pain
I had known earlier as I stood aside from making myself known was
as nothing to what I now felt.
"Lord — " Joisan's voice, weak and thin, but still her
voice.
"Joisan!"
"He took — he took my lord's gift — the gryphon." She was
sobbing now.
Fumbling, I drew her into my arms, so she wept upon my
shoulder.
"It was the truth you spoke; he is not Kerovan?"
"The truth. It is as I said, Kerovan died in ambush at Ulmsdale.
Rogear is betrothed to Kerovan's sister."
"And I never saw my lord. But his gift — that one shall not have
it! By the Nine Words of Min, he shall not! It is a wondrous thing,
and his hands besmirch it. And he used it as a weapon, Lord — he
used it to burn your eyes!"
That flash from the globe —
"But also, Lord, your own power answered, from this band on your
wrist. If you had only held that sooner as a shield." Her fingers
were feather-light on my arm above the armlet "Lord, they say
those of you people are mighty in healcraft. If you have not that
talent yourself, can we not take you to them? It is in my service
this grievous hurt came to you. I owe you a blood-debt—"
"No. There is no debt between us," I denied quickly. "This
Rogear has always been my unfriend. Had we met anywhere he would
have sought to kill me." And, I thought bleakly then, perhaps I
would be better dead now of a wound, than alive with this cloth
about my head marking my loss.
"I have something of healcraft, and so has Nalda. Perhaps the
sight will come again. Oh, my Lord, I do not know why he sought me
here. I have no longer lands or fortune — save that which he took
with him. Know you of this gryphon? It was sent me by my lord. Was
it then such a great treasure of his House that this Rogear would
risk so much to get it into his hands?"
Her query drew my thoughts away from my own darkness to consider
why Rogear had come. The crystal gryphon — that it had strange powers was entirely
possible. He was learned in the lore of the Old Ones — the Dark Old
Ones. I had heard enough from Riwal to know that when one went some
distance down the path of alien knowledge, things of power, both
light and dark, could make themselves known to the initiate.
I had been with Riwal when I first found it. Neevor had said
Riwal was dead, but he had evaded giving a description of how my
friend had died. Supposing Rogear, already practiced in the Old
Ones' learning, had somehow ferreted out Riwal, learned from him
about the gryphon, traced it thereafter to my lady? That would mean
it was such a talisman as could cause great troubles. In Rogear's
hand its use would be a danger to the world I knew. Joisan was
right, we must strive to get it back. But how — ? I put my hand to
my bandaged eyes with a sigh. Could it ever be done?
I saw the shrinking in her eyes and knew that there could I
naught between us. But it was only in my losing that I came to
learn how much I had held in my heart the thought to at least one,
I would be no monster but a man. How right had been that instinct
that had kept me from obeying her wish and sending her my portrait.
For she would never know now that I was Kerovan.
That Joisan took me to be one of the Old Ones was a two-way
matter. On the one hand it kept her from asking questions that I
must either struggle to evade or to which I must give answers. On
the other hand she would expect from me some evidences of the
"Power." For that lack, I would also need to find excuses. But for
a few days I could set actions before words.
The poor camp was a refuge for a pitiful band. There were but
four who might be termed — very loosely indeed — fighting men. Two
were past middle age, one lacked a hand, the other an eye. There
was a green boy who I suspected had never drawn steel, and a hill
shepherd who was wounded. The rest were women and children, though
of that number there were some who could stand shoulder to shoulder
with any armsman if there be need.
Mostly they were villagers, but there were two other ladies —
one old, one young. The older was in a state of shock and had to be
watched lest she wander off. Joisan confided in me that her son had
been slain and that she now refused to accept that, but wished to
search for him.
Of Ithdale itself she had a strange tale, almost as strange as
the blasting of Ulmskeep. It seemed that one of her own House had
called down some manifestation of the Power on the keep, catching
thereby a goodly number of the Hounds. But before that there had
been some warning, and she hoped many of her people had managed to
flee westward. Their goal was Norsdale, but now they had no guide.
Also there was one of the women who had recently given birth and
could not travel long or hard.
It was then I thought of that fortress in the lake and how it
could be a shelter for this band until they recovered strength.
That much I could do for my lady, bring her and hers to a roof over
their heads and a small measure of safety.
That she wore my gift was no matter of pride for me, for I was
certain she did not wear it because of any attachment for its
giver, but rather because she delighted in it for itself. Now and
then I saw her hand seek and caress it, almost as if from such
fondling she received strength.
The younger of the two ladies, Yngilda, who was kinsman to
Joisan, I did not like. She watched my lady from under downcast
lids with a sly hatred, though Joisan showed no ill will toward
her. What lay between them in the past I had no inkling, but this
Yngilda I would noways trust.
Of Joisan herself — but those thoughts I battled, summoning
always in answer to them the memory of her expression when she had
seen my unbooted feet. How wise I had been in my choice to bare
that deformity to the world. Had I continued to hide it, made
myself known to Joisan, found her welcoming and then — No, it was
far better to eat bitterness early than to have it twist one doubly
by following on the sweet.
That Joisan was such a lady as one might treasure, that I
learned in those few days when, under my guidance, they made their
way to the keep in the lake. Though many times she must have been
weary and downhearted, yet she was ready to shoulder duty's burdens
without complaint. And her courage was as great as her heart. Had I
only been as other men —
Now I chewed upon the sourness of that memory-vision in which
she had supported a dying man in grief. Did that lie in the past or
the future? I had no right to question her, for I had surrendered
that with my claim upon her.
Somehow, if it was in my power, I would get them to what safety
Norsdale promised. Then — well, I was now a landless man. It would
be easy to drop out of reckoning. I could join some lord's menie.
Or I could go into the Waste, where those who were outcast from the
dales carried their shame or despair. However, I would see Joisan
safe before I said farewell.
When those from Ithdale had settled into the keep and had
mastered the defensive use of the sliding bridge, I sought Joisan
and told her that I must scout for the invaders. That was in part
the truth, but with that need there was another, that I go forth
and do battle with myself, for there were times when she seemed to
reach to me. Not with hand, or invitation of voice. But she would
look at me when she thought my attention elsewhere, and there was a
vague questioning in her face, as if she sensed that there was a
bond between us.
Because there was a weakness in me that yearned toward making
myself known, trading on any familiarity that had grown, I was
determined that I must get away until I could build such an inner
control as would never yield. In her eyes at first sighting I had
been a monster. Because she now believed me an Old One with whom
the human standards of form did not hold, she accepted me fully.
But as a man — I was flawed.
On leaving the lake keep, I circled out to the north and west.
This was wild country, though it did not have the desolation of the
Waste. Nor did I come upon any other Old Ones' ruins, as I expected
to with the impressive lake structure so near.
Three days I quested in the direction I thought we must follow
to Norsdale. Though I did not know any trail, I had a good idea of
the general direction. The way was rough; the wider dalelands of
the east changed here to a series of knife-narrow valleys walled by
sharp ridges, weary path for foot travelers. Also they would not be
able to go fast. And I began to wonder as I struck more westerly
whether they would not be better placed to wait within the lake
keep for spring.
On the fourth day I cut across a fresh trail. It was of a small
party, not more than four. They were mounted, but their animals
were plainly not the heavier beasts the Hounds favored, the tracks
being those of unshod hill ponies. More fugitives? Perhaps — but in
times of war no man accepts an untested assumption.
Joisan had told me her people had been widely scattered when
they fled. These could be more from Ithdale. I had a duty to make
sure, to guide them if they were.
Yet I took no chances and followed with a scout's wiles. The
trail was, I believed, several days old. Twice I came to where they
had camped, or rather sheltered, for there were no signs of fires.
Also — their going spoke of more than flight — it was as if they
knew exactly where they were going, driven more by purpose than
fear.
Their direction, making allowances for natural obstacles, led
directly to the lake keep. Noting that, I was more than a little
uneasy. Four men did not make a formidable force, but four men,
armed and ready, could take Joisan's people by surprise. And these
might be outlaws drawn out of the Waste by the bait of loot.
I might have held their trail had it not been for the storm. It
came with the evening of the same day. Though it was a summer
shower compared to the fury I had seen unleashed in Ulmsdale, yet
it was not an easy torrent of rain or force of wind to face. With
darkness added, I was made to seek cover and wait it out.
As I waited, my mind fastened on one evil chance after another.
I could not rid myself of the belief that these I followed were
unfriends. And I had lived on the edge of the Waste too many years
not to know what outlaws would do to the helpless. Now I could only
hold to self-control, try to believe that Joisan had followed my
last orders and taken up the bridge section and that they would not
admit strangers to the keep. Ithkrypt had not known such raiders.
They could accept any dalesman as friend.
By morning the storm had cleared, but it had washed away the
trail. I was too concerned to cast about hunting it. The need to
return to the lake, discover what chanced there, rode me
strong.
But I had two days yet on the way, even though I pushed myself
and Hiku to the limit of endurance. When I came into the lake
valley and saw the keep, I had worked myself into such a state of
foreboding as prepared me to find a bloody massacre.
There was a hail from one of the largely overgrown fields that
brought me up short. Nalda and two of the other women waved from a
peaceful scene. They were engaged in harvesting the thin stand of
stunted grain, gleaning every stalk and heaping it on two outspread
cloaks.
"Fair news, my Lord!" Nalda's voice rang loud in my ears as she
crossed the field to reach me. "My lady's lord has come at last! He
heard of her distress and rode to her service!"
I stared at her unbelieving. Then common sense made it all clear
— she did not mean Joisan, of course. She spoke of the lord wed to
Yngilda—though I had thought he was supposed to have died when his
keep was overrun in the south.
"The Lady Yngilda must be giving praise to Gunnora at this
hour," I had wit enough to answer.
Nalda stared at me as strangely as perhaps I had at her a moment
earlier.
"That one—she is widowed, not wed! No, it is the Lord Kerovan,
he who has been so long wed to our dear lady! He rode in three days
since — to rejoice our hearts. Lord, my lady has asked all to watch
for you, to urge you to hasten to the keep — "
"Be sure that I shall!" I said between set teeth. Who this false
Kerovan was, I had no idea, but that I must see him, must save
Joisan from any danger. Someone who knew of our marriage, who
perhaps thought me dead, was taking advantage of the situation. And
the thought that he could be with Joisan now was like a sword
through me. That she might in time turn to another I had tried to
endure, but that another had come to her in false guise — that I
would not countenance.
For now I could call on my repute as an Old One of unknown but
awesome powers. I could proclaim Kerovan dead, unmask this
intruder, and she would believe me. Thus I had only to reach the
keep, confront the impostor.
I urged my weary Hiku to a trot, though I longed to fling myself
from his back, go pounding ahead into the keep, to call out this
thief of another man's name and slay him out of hand — not because
he had taken my name, but because he had boldly used it as a cloak
to reach Joisan. In that moment how I wished I was truly what she
thought me, one who could summon forces beyond the understanding of
men.
Angarl, the one-handed, was on sentry duty and gave me a
greeting I forced myself to answer. Very shortly I was in the
courtyard. The deserted emptiness which had restrained me on my
first visit here from too-detailed exploration was gone. Life had
returned to the hold, and it was now a place for humans.
Two men loitered by the water-trough, chaffing with one of the
village girls, their deeper laughter banishing even more the
atmosphere of the alien. They wore House badges adorned with my
gryphon on their over-jerkins.
Before they looked up, I studied them. Neither was familiar. I
had begun to wonder if survivors from Ulmsdale might have been
drawn into this. However, the fact I did not recognize them meant
little, for I had been away from Ulmskeep for months before my
father's death, and he might have hired newcomers to augment his
forces, taking the places of those who rode south with me.
That they wore such badges meant this was no hastily improvised
scheme on the part of someone who had heard a rumor or two. Here
was careful preparation — but why? Had Joisan still had Ithkrypt
with men and arms, then I could have understood such a move. The
false Kerovan would have ruled in Ithdale. But she was a landless,
homeless fugitive. Why then?
One of the men glanced up, saw me, and nudged his fellow. Their
laughter was gone; they eyed me warily. But I did not approach
them. Rather I slid from Hiku's back and walked, stiff with the
weariness of the trail, toward that tower room Joisan had made her
own.
"You — !" The call was harsh, arrogant.
I swung around to see the two armsmen striding toward me. It was
not until they fronted me that they seemed to realize I differed
from their kind. I faced them calmly, bringing into my bearing the
stiffness of one who has been approached by those beneath him in
rank in a manner highly unbecoming.
"You — " the leader began again, but he was now uncertain. I saw
his comrade nudge him in the ribs. It was the second man who now
pushed a little to the fore.
"Your pardon, Lord," he said, his eyes searching me up and down.
"Whom do you seek?"
His assumption of a steward's duties here fed my anger.
"Not you, fellow." I turned away.
Perhaps they would have liked to have intercepted me, but they
did not quite dare. And I did not look to them again as I came to
the tower doorway, now curtained with a horse blanket.
"Good fortune to the house!" I raised my voice.
"Lord Amber!" The blanket was thrust aside and Joisan stood
before me.
There was that in her face at that moment which hurt. So he had
won this already, this radiance! So ill had I played my part I had
thrown away all. All? Another part of me questioned it. I had
already decided that this was not for me. How could I then question
her happiness if one she believed to be her lord had come to serve
her in the depths of her need? That he was an impostor was all I
must think on, that she must not be deceived.
"Lord Amber, you have come!" She put forth her hand, but did not
quite touch mine, which I had raised against my will. Having spoken
so, she stood looking at me. I could not understand.
"Who comes, my fair one?"
I knew that voice from the dusk of the room behind her. Knowing
it, my hate near broke bounds so that I thirsted to draw steel and
press into combat. Rogear here — but why? "Lord Amber, have you
heard? My lord has come — hearing of our troubles he has come —
"
She spoke hurriedly and there was that in her voice which made
me watch her closely. I had seen Joisan afraid. I had seen her rise
above fear and pain of heart and mind, be strong for others to lean
upon. But at this moment I thought that it was not joy that colored
her tone. Outwardly she might present this smiling face, inwardly —
no —
Her lord had not brought her happiness! Excitement stirred in me
at that which I thought no guess but honest truth. She had not
found in Rogear what she sought.
She retreated a step or two, though she had not answered his
question. I followed, to stand facing my mother's kin. He wore a
war tabard over his mail, with that gryphon to which he had no
right worked on it. Above that his face was handsome, his mouth
curved in that small secret smile, until he saw me —
In that instant the smile was wiped from his lips. His eyes
narrowed, and there was about him watchfulness as if we both held
swords in hand and were set against one another. "My Lord." Joisan
spoke hurriedly, as if she sensed what lay between us and wished to
avoid battle. But she addressed me first as the higher in rank.
"This is my promised Lord, Kerovan who is heir to Ulmsdale."
"Lord Kerovan?" I made a question of that. I could denounce
Rogear at once. But so could he me. Or could he? That which had
been my bane, my deformity — would not Joisan continue to think it
proved me alien? At any rate, Rogear must not be allowed to play
any dark game here — whether it meant Joisan turning from me in
disgust or not
"I think not!" My words fell into the silence like blows. In
that moment Rogear's hand came up, something flashing in it.
From it struck a ray of light straight at my head. Pain burst
behind my eyes, I was both blind and in such agony that I could not
think, only feel I staggered back against the wall, fighting to
keep my feet. My arm was upflung in a futile effort to counter this
stroke I was unprepared to face. I heard Joisan scream, and hard
upon that cry another of rage and pain. Still blind, I was thrust
aside and fell to the floor. Joisan screamed again, and I heard
sounds of a struggle.
But I could not see! Not trying to rise, I threw myself toward
the sounds.
"No! No!" Joisan's voice. "Loose me!" Rogear had Joisan! A foot
stamped upon my hand, giving me a second thrust of agony so great I
could not stand it, yet I must! If he had Joisan, could drag her
out —
I flung out my sound arm, touched a body, embraced kicking legs,
and threw the weight of my shoulder against him, bearing him under
me to the floor.
"Joisan — run!" I cried. I could not fight when I could not see;
I could only hold on, taking his blows, trying to keep him so she
could escape.
"No!" Her voice again, and with a cold note in it that I had
never heard before. "Lie you very still, my Lord."
"Lord Amber," she said now, "I hold a knife blade to his throat.
You may loose him."
He did indeed lie as one who would offer no more fight. I backed
away a little.
"You say," she continued in that same tone, "this is not
Kerovan. Why, my Lord?"
I made my choice. "Kerovan is dead, my Lady. Dead in an ambush
laid by this Rogear above his father's keep. This Rogear has
knowledge of the Old Ones — from the Dark Path — "
I heard a quickly drawn breath. "Dead? And this one dares to
wear my lord's name to deceive me?"
Rogear spoke up then. "Tell her your name—"
"As you know, we do not give our names to mankind," I
improvised.
"Mankind? And what are — "
"Lord Kerovan." My head jerked toward that new voice. "What do
you — " It was one of the armsmen from the courtyard.
"Lord Kerovan does nothing," Joisan answered. "As for this one,
take him and ride."
"Shall we take her, Lord?" asked the armsman.
I had gotten to my feet, faced toward that voice, though I could
not see.
"Let the wench go. She is of no importance now." By his tone
Rogear had regained his full confidence.
"And him, Lord?" Someone was moving toward me. My crushed hand
hung useless. In any event I could not see him.
"No!" Rogear's answer was the exact opposite of what I expected
to hear. In that moment a single thrust from a sword would have
finished it all in his favor, and he could have had his will of
Joisan. 'Touch him on your perill"
"We ride," he added. "I have what I came for — "
"No! Not that! Give me the gryphon!" Joisan's cry ended in the
thud of a blow, and her slight body struck against mine. She would
have slipped to the floor, but I flung my arm about her. They were
gone, though I cried out for any in the courtyard to stop them.
"Joisan!" I held her close against me. She was a slack weight—if
I could only see! What had that devil done to her? "Joisan!" Had he
killed her?
But Joisan was not dead, only struck senseless, as those who
came running told me. As for Rogear and his men, they were away. I
sat by Joisan's bed, holding her hand in mine. About my useless
eyes was bound a cloth wet in water in which herbs had been
steeped. Only in that hour did I begin to face the fact that
perhaps my sight was gone from me. Just as I had not been able to
save Joisan from that last blow, so I would never again be able to
step between her and any other harm. That was the black hour in
which I learned how much she had come to be a part of me. The pain
I had known earlier as I stood aside from making myself known was
as nothing to what I now felt.
"Lord — " Joisan's voice, weak and thin, but still her
voice.
"Joisan!"
"He took — he took my lord's gift — the gryphon." She was
sobbing now.
Fumbling, I drew her into my arms, so she wept upon my
shoulder.
"It was the truth you spoke; he is not Kerovan?"
"The truth. It is as I said, Kerovan died in ambush at Ulmsdale.
Rogear is betrothed to Kerovan's sister."
"And I never saw my lord. But his gift — that one shall not have
it! By the Nine Words of Min, he shall not! It is a wondrous thing,
and his hands besmirch it. And he used it as a weapon, Lord — he
used it to burn your eyes!"
That flash from the globe —
"But also, Lord, your own power answered, from this band on your
wrist. If you had only held that sooner as a shield." Her fingers
were feather-light on my arm above the armlet "Lord, they say
those of you people are mighty in healcraft. If you have not that
talent yourself, can we not take you to them? It is in my service
this grievous hurt came to you. I owe you a blood-debt—"
"No. There is no debt between us," I denied quickly. "This
Rogear has always been my unfriend. Had we met anywhere he would
have sought to kill me." And, I thought bleakly then, perhaps I
would be better dead now of a wound, than alive with this cloth
about my head marking my loss.
"I have something of healcraft, and so has Nalda. Perhaps the
sight will come again. Oh, my Lord, I do not know why he sought me
here. I have no longer lands or fortune — save that which he took
with him. Know you of this gryphon? It was sent me by my lord. Was
it then such a great treasure of his House that this Rogear would
risk so much to get it into his hands?"
Her query drew my thoughts away from my own darkness to consider
why Rogear had come. The crystal gryphon — that it had strange powers was entirely
possible. He was learned in the lore of the Old Ones — the Dark Old
Ones. I had heard enough from Riwal to know that when one went some
distance down the path of alien knowledge, things of power, both
light and dark, could make themselves known to the initiate.
I had been with Riwal when I first found it. Neevor had said
Riwal was dead, but he had evaded giving a description of how my
friend had died. Supposing Rogear, already practiced in the Old
Ones' learning, had somehow ferreted out Riwal, learned from him
about the gryphon, traced it thereafter to my lady? That would mean
it was such a talisman as could cause great troubles. In Rogear's
hand its use would be a danger to the world I knew. Joisan was
right, we must strive to get it back. But how — ? I put my hand to
my bandaged eyes with a sigh. Could it ever be done?