One difference did the news brought to my uncle from Ulmsdale
make in my own plans for the future. It was decided that I would
not be going there to join my lord this season as had been
heretofore thought, but I must wait upon a more settled time. For
if spies had been sent into Ulmsdale with such boldness, the
enemies' forethrust might soon be delivered. My uncle sent such a
message with Jago. There came no protest from Lord Ulric or Lord
Kerovan in return, so he deemed they agreed. Thereafter he sat
sober-faced, talking with his armsmen and with messengers he sent
in turn to Trevamper and those dales where he had kinship or old
friendship.
It was a time of spreading uneasiness. We harvested more closely
that year than any time I could remember, plundering all the wild
berries from the field bushes, taking nuts from the woods trees,
laying up what manner of stores we could. It was as if some
foreshadowing of the starving years to come already lay across the
land.
And in the next summer my uncle ordered the planting increased,
with more fields cleared and sown. The weather was as uncertain as
the threatening future, for there were a number of storms of great
severity. Twice the roads were washed out, and we were isolated
until men could rebuild them.
We had only ragged scraps of news when some lord's messenger
found his way to us. No more spies had come into Ulmsport. From the
south there were rumors of strange ships that did not anchor openly
in any dale port, but patroled the coast. Then these were seen no
more for a space, and we took a little comfort in that.
It appeared that my uncle feared the worst, for he sent his
marshal to Trevamper, to return with two loads of the strange metal
from the Waste and a smith who straightway set about fashioning
arms and repairing the old. Much to my astonishment, my uncle had
him take my measurements and prepare for me a coat of mail. When
Dame Math protested, he stared at her moodily, for his good humor
was long since fled.
"Peace, sister. I would give the same to you, save that I know
you would not wear it. But listen well, both of you. I believe that
we face darker days than we have ever known. If word comes that
these invaders come in force, we may find ourselves beaten from
dale to dale. Thus—"
Dame Math had drawn a deep breath then, her indignation fading,
another emotion on her face, an expression I could not read.
"Cyart—have—have you had then—?" She did not finish, but her
apprehension was such that fear uncoiled within me.
"Have I dreamed? Yes, Math—once."
"Spirit of Flame shelter us!" Her hands went to the set of
silver hoops slung together at her girdle. She turned them swiftly
in her fingers, her lips shaping those formal prayers that were the
support of those in the House of Dames.
"As it was promised" — he looked at her — "so have I
dreamed—once."
"Twice more then to come." Her coifed head came up, her lips
firm. "It is a pity that the Warning does not measure time."
"We are lucky, or perhaps cursed, to have it at all," he
returned. "Is it better to know there is blackness ahead and so
live in foreshadow? Or be ignorant and meet it unwarned? Of the two
I choose the warning. We can hold Ithkrypt if they come by river or
over the hill ways—perhaps." He shrugged. "You must be prepared at
the worst to ride — not to the coast or southward — but to
Norsdale, or even the Waste."
"Yet no one has yet come save spies."
"They will, Math. Have no doubt of that. They will come!"
When we were back in our own quarters I dared to ask a question.
"What is this dream of which my lord speaks?"
She was standing by the window, gazing out in that blind way one
does when one regards thoughts and not what lies beyond. At my
words she turned her head.
"Dream — ?" For a moment I thought she was not going to answer.
Then she came away from the window, her fingers busy with her
prayer hoops as if she drew comfort from them.
"It is our warning." Obviously she spoke reluctantly. "To those
vowed to the Flame such things are — ah, well, I cannot gainsay
that it happens, and it is not of our doing. A generation ago Lord
Randor, our father, took under his protection a Wisewoman who had
been accused of dealing with the Old Ones. She was a quiet woman
who lived alone, seeking out none. But she had a gift of tending
animals, and her sheep were the finest in the dale. There were
those who envied her. And as my lord has said concerning ugly
stories, malice can be spread by tongue and lip alone.
"After the way of her calling she went alone into the wild
places seeking herbs and strange knowledge. But if she knew much
others did not, she made no parade of it, or used it to the hurt of
any. Only the poisoned talk turned the dale against her. They arose
one night to take her flock and drive her forth.
"Lord Randor had been in Trevamper, and they thought him still
there, or they would not have dared. As they set torch to her roof
place, he and his men came riding. He used his own whip on those
who meant her harm; set her under his shield for all men to
see.
"She said then that she could not stay, for her peace, so
broken, could not be reclaimed. But she asked to see our mother,
who was heavy with child. And she laid her hands upon the Lady
Alys' full belly, saying that she would have ease in the birthing —
which was thankful hearing, for the lady had had one ill birth and
a child dead of it, to her great sorrow.
"Then the Wisewoman said also that it would be a son, and he
would have a gift. In times of great danger he would farsee by the
means of dreaming. That with two such dreams he could take measures
and escape whatever fate they foretold, but the third time would be
ill.
"She went then from Ithkrypt and from the dale, and no man saw
her go. But what she foretold came true, for our mother was safely
delivered within a month of your uncle, the Lord Cyart. And your
uncle did dream. The last time he dreamed, it was of the death of
his lady, which happened when he was in the south and unable to
come to her, though he killed a horse trying. So — if he dreams —
we can believe."
Thus I learned to wear mail because my uncle dreamed, And he
taught me also how to use a light sword that had been his as a boy.
Though I was not too apt a pupil with that, I proved myself apt
with the bow and won the title of marksman. In days to come I was
to thank my uncle for such skills many times over — when it was too
late for him to know that he had truly given me life by his
forethought.
So passed the Year of the Moss Wife, which should have seen me
with my Lord Kerovan in Ulmsdale. Sometimes I took into my hands the gryphon
and held it, thinking of my lord and wondering what manner of man
he was. In spite of all my hopes, no messenger riding between
Ulmsdale and Ithkrypt brought me the picture that I desired. At
first that angered me a little; then I made excuses, thinking that
perhaps they had no one in Ulmsdale with the art of limning out a
face, for such talent is not widely given. And in the present
chancy times he could not seek afar for something of such small
importance.
Though we had stores in plenty, we used them sparingly that
winter, scanting even on the Yule feast as had never been done in
the past, for my uncle was ever on guard. He had his own scouts
riding the frontiers of our dale and awaited all messengers
impatiently.
The Month of the Ice Dragon passed, and that of the Snow Bird in
the new year was well begun when the news we had awaited came from
the lips of a man who had battled through drifts to come to us, so
stiff with cold he had to be lifted from a horse that thereafter
fell and did not rise again.
Southward was war. The invasion had begun, and it was of such a
sort as to startle even those lords who had tried to foresee and
prepare. These devils from overseas did not fight with sword and
bow after the manner of the dales. They brought ashore from their
ships great piles of metal in which men hid, as if in monsters'
bellies. And these manmade monsters crawled ahead, shooting flames
in great sweeps from their noses.
Men died in those flames or were crushed under the lumbering
weight of the monsters. When the dalesmen retreated into their
keeps, the monsters bore inward with their weight against the
walls, bringing them down. Such a way of war was unknown, and flesh
and blood could not stand against it.
Now that it was too late, the rallying call went forth. Those
who lingered in their keeps to be eaten up one by one were the
thick-headed and foolish ones. Others gathered into an army under
the leadership of four of the southern lords. They had already cut
off three of the monsters, which needed certain supplies to keep
them running, and destroyed them. But our people had lost the
coastline. So the invaders were pouring in more and more men,
though their creeping monsters, happily, appeared not so
numerous.
The summons came to the northern dales for men to build up a
force to contain the invaders, to harass them and restrain them
from picking off each dale in turn as one picks ripe plums from a
tree.
Hard on the heels of that messenger came the first of the
refugees, ones who had blood-claim on us. A party of armsmen
escorted a litter and two women who rode, guided through the pass
by one of my uncle's scouts — the Lady Islaugha, Yngilda, and, in
the litter, delirious with the fever of a wound, Toross, all now
landless and homeless, with naught but what they could carry on
their persons.
Yngilda, wed and widowed within two years, stared at me almost
witlessly, and had to be led by the hand to the fire, have a cup
placed in her fingers, and ordered firmly to drink. She did not
seem to know where she was or what had happened to her, save that
she was engulfed by an unending nightmare. Nor could we thereafter
over get any coherent story from her as to how she had managed to
escape her husband's keep, which was one of those the monsters had
battered down.
Somehow, led by one of her lord's archers, she had made her way
to the dale's camp and there met the Lady Islaugha, come to tend
her son, who had been hurt in one of the attacks against the
monsters.
Cut off from any safety in the south, they had turned for
shelter to us. Dame Math speedily took over the nursing of Toross,
while his mother never left him day or night if she could help.
My uncle was plainly caught between two demands — that of the
army battering the invaders and his inborn wish to protect his own,
which was the dalesman's heritage. But, because he had from the
first argued that combination against the foe was our only hope, he
chose the army.
He marshaled what forces he could without totally stripping the
dale, leaving a small but well-trained troop to the command of
Marshal Dagale. There was a thaw at the beginning of the Month of
the Hawk and, taking advantage of that, he left.
I watched him alone from the gatetower (for Dame Math had been
summoned to Toross, who had taken a turn for the worse), just as I
had stood in the courtyard minutes earlier pouring the spiced
journey drink from the war ewer into the horns of the men to wish
them fair fortune. That ewer I still held. It was cunningly wrought
in the form of a mounted warrior, the liquid pouring through the
mouth of his horse. There was a slight drip from it into the snow.
Red it was, like blood. Seeing it, I shivered and quickly smeared
over the spot so that I might not see what could be a dark
omen.
We kept Ithkrypt ever-prepared, not knowing — for no messengers
came now — how went the war, only believing that it might come to
us without warning. I wondered if my uncle had dreamed again, and
what dire fortellings those dreams had brought him. That we might
never know.
There was one more heavy snow, closing the pass, which gave us
an illusion of safety while it lasted. But spring came early that
year. And with the second thaw a messenger from my uncle arrived,
mainly concerned with the necessity for keeping the dale as much a
fortress as we could. He said little of what the army in the south
had done, and his messenger had only gloom to spread. There were no
real battles. Our men had to turn to the tactics of Waste outlaws,
making quick raids on enemy supply lines and camps, to do all the
damage they could.
He had one bit of news: that Lord Ulric of Ulmsdale had sent a
party south under the command of Lord Kerovan, but he himself had
been ill. It was now thought that Lord Kerovan might return to take
control at Ulmsdale if the invading army forced a landing at
Ulmsport as they had at Jorby and other points along the coast.
That night, when I was free of the many duties that now were
mine, I took up the gryphon, as I had not for a long time. I thought on him who
had sent it to me. Where did he lie this night? Under the stars
with his sword to hand, not knowing when the battle-horn might blow
to arms? I wished him well with all my heart, though I knew so
little of him.
There was warmth against my palm, and the globe glowed in the
dusky room. It did not in that moment seem strange to me; rather it
was comforting, easing for a moment my burdens.
The globe was no longer clear. I could not see the gryphon.
Rather there was a swirling mist within it, forming shadows —
shadows that were struggling men. One was ringed about, and they
bore in upon him. I cried out at the sight, though none of it was
clear. And I was afraid that this talisman from my lord had now
shown me his death. I would have torn the chain from my neck and
thrown the thing away; yet that I could not do. The globe cleared,
and the gryphon watched me with its red eyes. Surely my imagination
alone had worked that.
"There you are!" Yngilda's voice accused me. "Toross is very
uneasy. They wish you to come."
She watched me, I thought, jealously. Since she had come from
behind the curtain of shock that had hidden her on her arrival, she
was once again the Yngilda of Trevamper. Sometimes I needed all my
control not to allow my tongue sharpness in return when she spoke
so, as if she were mistress here and I a lazy serving maid.
Toross mended slowly. His fever had yielded to Dame Math's
knowledge, but it left him very weak. We had discovered that
sometimes I was able to coax him to eat or to keep him quiet when
the need arose. For his sake I was willing to serve so. Yet lately
I had come to dislike the way his hand clung to mine when I sat
beside him and the strange way he looked at me and smiled, as if he
had some claim on me that no one could deny.
This night I was impatient at such a summons, though I obeyed
it, for I was still shaken by what I had seen, or imagined I had
seen, in the globe. I willed myself not to believe that this had
been a true farseeing. Though with men at desperate war, and my
lord with them, I could well accept he was so struck down. At that
moment I wished that I did have the farsight, or else that we had a
Wisewoman with such skill. But Dame Math did not countenance the
uses of that power.
That party of kinsmen had been only the first of the refugees to
find their way hither. If my uncle had farseen that we might have
to open our doors and supplies to such, he had not mentioned it. I
wondered, marking each morn as I measured out the food for the day
(which had become one of my more serious duties since Dame Math had
the overseeing of the sick and wounded) whether we could eat even
sparingly until harvest, if this continued.
For the most part the newcomers were lands-people, women and
children, with a sprinkling of old or wounded men, few of them able
to help us man any defense that might be needed. I had spoken with
Dame Math and the marshal only the evening before, the three of us
deciding that as soon as the weather lightened sufficiently, they
would be sent on to the west, where there were dales untouched by
war, even to the House of Dames at Norstead. We dared not keep the
burden of useless hands here.
Now as I came into the chamber where Toross lay, I was trying to
occupy my mind with plans for such an exodus, rather than allow
myself to think of the shadows in the globe. About that I could do
nothing. I must consider what I could do.
He was braced up by pillows, and it seemed to me that he looked
better than he had since they brought him here. If this was so, why
had they sent for me? Such a question was actually on my lips when
the Lady Islaugha arose from a stool by the bed and moved away, he
holding out his hand in welcome to me.
She did not glance in my direction, but took up a tray, and with
a hasty murmur left the room.
"Joisan, come here where I may truly look upon you!" His voice
was stronger also. "There are shadows beneath your eyes; you drive
yourself too hard, dear heart!"
I had come to the stool, but I did not sit. Instead I studied
his face closely. It was thin and white, with lines set by
suffering. But there was reason in his eyes, not the cloudiness of
a fevered mind. And that uneasiness I had felt with him filled
me.
"We all have duties in plenty here, Toross. I do no more or less
than my share."
I spoke shortly, not knowing whether to comment on his using an
endearment he had no right to give to me who was a wedded wife.
"Soon it will all be over," he said. "In Norstead the war and
its ugliness cannot touch you — "
"Norstead? What mean you, Toross? Those who go to Norstead are
the refugees. We cannot keep them here, our supplies will not allow
it. But our own people do not go. Perhaps you will ride with them —
"
As soon as I said that, I felt again a slight lightening of
burden. Life in Ithkrypt would be easier without these kinsfolk
ever at my side.
"But you shall go also." He said that as calmly as if there
could be no question. "A maid has no place in a keep as good as
besieged — "
Dame Math — surely she had not planned so behind my back? No, I
knew her better. Then I lost that touch of panic — Toross had not
the least authority over me. At my uncle's orders, or at Kerovan's,
would I leave, but for no other.
"You forget, I am not a maid. My lord knows I am at Ithkrypt. He
will come for me here. So I stay until that hour."
Toross' face flushed. "Joisan, do you not see? Why do you cling
loyally to that one? He has not claimed you within the marriage
term; that is already two months gone, is that not so? You can now
give bride-refusal without any breaking of oaths. If he wanted you,
would he not have come before this?"
"Through the ranks of the enemy, no doubt?" I countered. "Lord
Kerovan leads his father's armsmen in the south. This is no time to
say that the days of agreement be strictly kept. Nor do I break
bond unless my lord himself says he does not want me!" Perhaps that
was not quite so, for I had as much pride as any woman. But I
wished Toross to understand, not to put into blunt words what could
not be unsaid. If he went farther, it would end all friendship
between us, and I had liked him.
"You are free if you wish it," he repeated stubbornly. "And if
you are truthful, Joisan, you know that this is your wish. Surely
that I — what I feel for you and have since first I saw you is
plain. And you feel the same, if you will allow yourself to — "
"Untrue, Toross. What I tell you now is as strong as if I took
Flame Oath — as I shall if you need that to make you understand. I
am Lord Kerovan's wife and so I will remain as long as we live and
he does not deny it. As a wife it is honor-breaking and unfitting
that I listen to such words as you have just said. I cannot come to
you again!"
I turned and ran, though I heard him stir and give a gasp of
pain, then cry out my name. I did not look back, but came into the
great hall. There was the Lady Islaugha ladling broth from a pot
into a bowl, and I went to her swiftly.
"Your son needs you," I told her. "Do not ask me to go to him
again."
She looked up at me, and I could see in her face that she knew
what had happened and that she hated me furiously because I had
turned from him. To her he was her heart's core, to which all must
be allowed and given.
"You fool!" she spat at me.
"Not such a fool as I would be if I listened." That much of a
retort I allowed myself, and then stood aside as, with the slopping
bowl still in her hands, she hurried towards Toross' room.
I remained by the fire, stretching out my chilled hands to it.
Was I a fool? What had I of Lord Kerovan to keep with me? A bauble
of crystal — after eight years of marriage which was no marriage.
Yet for me there had been no choice, and I did not regret what I
had just done.
One difference did the news brought to my uncle from Ulmsdale
make in my own plans for the future. It was decided that I would
not be going there to join my lord this season as had been
heretofore thought, but I must wait upon a more settled time. For
if spies had been sent into Ulmsdale with such boldness, the
enemies' forethrust might soon be delivered. My uncle sent such a
message with Jago. There came no protest from Lord Ulric or Lord
Kerovan in return, so he deemed they agreed. Thereafter he sat
sober-faced, talking with his armsmen and with messengers he sent
in turn to Trevamper and those dales where he had kinship or old
friendship.
It was a time of spreading uneasiness. We harvested more closely
that year than any time I could remember, plundering all the wild
berries from the field bushes, taking nuts from the woods trees,
laying up what manner of stores we could. It was as if some
foreshadowing of the starving years to come already lay across the
land.
And in the next summer my uncle ordered the planting increased,
with more fields cleared and sown. The weather was as uncertain as
the threatening future, for there were a number of storms of great
severity. Twice the roads were washed out, and we were isolated
until men could rebuild them.
We had only ragged scraps of news when some lord's messenger
found his way to us. No more spies had come into Ulmsport. From the
south there were rumors of strange ships that did not anchor openly
in any dale port, but patroled the coast. Then these were seen no
more for a space, and we took a little comfort in that.
It appeared that my uncle feared the worst, for he sent his
marshal to Trevamper, to return with two loads of the strange metal
from the Waste and a smith who straightway set about fashioning
arms and repairing the old. Much to my astonishment, my uncle had
him take my measurements and prepare for me a coat of mail. When
Dame Math protested, he stared at her moodily, for his good humor
was long since fled.
"Peace, sister. I would give the same to you, save that I know
you would not wear it. But listen well, both of you. I believe that
we face darker days than we have ever known. If word comes that
these invaders come in force, we may find ourselves beaten from
dale to dale. Thus—"
Dame Math had drawn a deep breath then, her indignation fading,
another emotion on her face, an expression I could not read.
"Cyart—have—have you had then—?" She did not finish, but her
apprehension was such that fear uncoiled within me.
"Have I dreamed? Yes, Math—once."
"Spirit of Flame shelter us!" Her hands went to the set of
silver hoops slung together at her girdle. She turned them swiftly
in her fingers, her lips shaping those formal prayers that were the
support of those in the House of Dames.
"As it was promised" — he looked at her — "so have I
dreamed—once."
"Twice more then to come." Her coifed head came up, her lips
firm. "It is a pity that the Warning does not measure time."
"We are lucky, or perhaps cursed, to have it at all," he
returned. "Is it better to know there is blackness ahead and so
live in foreshadow? Or be ignorant and meet it unwarned? Of the two
I choose the warning. We can hold Ithkrypt if they come by river or
over the hill ways—perhaps." He shrugged. "You must be prepared at
the worst to ride — not to the coast or southward — but to
Norsdale, or even the Waste."
"Yet no one has yet come save spies."
"They will, Math. Have no doubt of that. They will come!"
When we were back in our own quarters I dared to ask a question.
"What is this dream of which my lord speaks?"
She was standing by the window, gazing out in that blind way one
does when one regards thoughts and not what lies beyond. At my
words she turned her head.
"Dream — ?" For a moment I thought she was not going to answer.
Then she came away from the window, her fingers busy with her
prayer hoops as if she drew comfort from them.
"It is our warning." Obviously she spoke reluctantly. "To those
vowed to the Flame such things are — ah, well, I cannot gainsay
that it happens, and it is not of our doing. A generation ago Lord
Randor, our father, took under his protection a Wisewoman who had
been accused of dealing with the Old Ones. She was a quiet woman
who lived alone, seeking out none. But she had a gift of tending
animals, and her sheep were the finest in the dale. There were
those who envied her. And as my lord has said concerning ugly
stories, malice can be spread by tongue and lip alone.
"After the way of her calling she went alone into the wild
places seeking herbs and strange knowledge. But if she knew much
others did not, she made no parade of it, or used it to the hurt of
any. Only the poisoned talk turned the dale against her. They arose
one night to take her flock and drive her forth.
"Lord Randor had been in Trevamper, and they thought him still
there, or they would not have dared. As they set torch to her roof
place, he and his men came riding. He used his own whip on those
who meant her harm; set her under his shield for all men to
see.
"She said then that she could not stay, for her peace, so
broken, could not be reclaimed. But she asked to see our mother,
who was heavy with child. And she laid her hands upon the Lady
Alys' full belly, saying that she would have ease in the birthing —
which was thankful hearing, for the lady had had one ill birth and
a child dead of it, to her great sorrow.
"Then the Wisewoman said also that it would be a son, and he
would have a gift. In times of great danger he would farsee by the
means of dreaming. That with two such dreams he could take measures
and escape whatever fate they foretold, but the third time would be
ill.
"She went then from Ithkrypt and from the dale, and no man saw
her go. But what she foretold came true, for our mother was safely
delivered within a month of your uncle, the Lord Cyart. And your
uncle did dream. The last time he dreamed, it was of the death of
his lady, which happened when he was in the south and unable to
come to her, though he killed a horse trying. So — if he dreams —
we can believe."
Thus I learned to wear mail because my uncle dreamed, And he
taught me also how to use a light sword that had been his as a boy.
Though I was not too apt a pupil with that, I proved myself apt
with the bow and won the title of marksman. In days to come I was
to thank my uncle for such skills many times over — when it was too
late for him to know that he had truly given me life by his
forethought.
So passed the Year of the Moss Wife, which should have seen me
with my Lord Kerovan in Ulmsdale. Sometimes I took into my hands the gryphon
and held it, thinking of my lord and wondering what manner of man
he was. In spite of all my hopes, no messenger riding between
Ulmsdale and Ithkrypt brought me the picture that I desired. At
first that angered me a little; then I made excuses, thinking that
perhaps they had no one in Ulmsdale with the art of limning out a
face, for such talent is not widely given. And in the present
chancy times he could not seek afar for something of such small
importance.
Though we had stores in plenty, we used them sparingly that
winter, scanting even on the Yule feast as had never been done in
the past, for my uncle was ever on guard. He had his own scouts
riding the frontiers of our dale and awaited all messengers
impatiently.
The Month of the Ice Dragon passed, and that of the Snow Bird in
the new year was well begun when the news we had awaited came from
the lips of a man who had battled through drifts to come to us, so
stiff with cold he had to be lifted from a horse that thereafter
fell and did not rise again.
Southward was war. The invasion had begun, and it was of such a
sort as to startle even those lords who had tried to foresee and
prepare. These devils from overseas did not fight with sword and
bow after the manner of the dales. They brought ashore from their
ships great piles of metal in which men hid, as if in monsters'
bellies. And these manmade monsters crawled ahead, shooting flames
in great sweeps from their noses.
Men died in those flames or were crushed under the lumbering
weight of the monsters. When the dalesmen retreated into their
keeps, the monsters bore inward with their weight against the
walls, bringing them down. Such a way of war was unknown, and flesh
and blood could not stand against it.
Now that it was too late, the rallying call went forth. Those
who lingered in their keeps to be eaten up one by one were the
thick-headed and foolish ones. Others gathered into an army under
the leadership of four of the southern lords. They had already cut
off three of the monsters, which needed certain supplies to keep
them running, and destroyed them. But our people had lost the
coastline. So the invaders were pouring in more and more men,
though their creeping monsters, happily, appeared not so
numerous.
The summons came to the northern dales for men to build up a
force to contain the invaders, to harass them and restrain them
from picking off each dale in turn as one picks ripe plums from a
tree.
Hard on the heels of that messenger came the first of the
refugees, ones who had blood-claim on us. A party of armsmen
escorted a litter and two women who rode, guided through the pass
by one of my uncle's scouts — the Lady Islaugha, Yngilda, and, in
the litter, delirious with the fever of a wound, Toross, all now
landless and homeless, with naught but what they could carry on
their persons.
Yngilda, wed and widowed within two years, stared at me almost
witlessly, and had to be led by the hand to the fire, have a cup
placed in her fingers, and ordered firmly to drink. She did not
seem to know where she was or what had happened to her, save that
she was engulfed by an unending nightmare. Nor could we thereafter
over get any coherent story from her as to how she had managed to
escape her husband's keep, which was one of those the monsters had
battered down.
Somehow, led by one of her lord's archers, she had made her way
to the dale's camp and there met the Lady Islaugha, come to tend
her son, who had been hurt in one of the attacks against the
monsters.
Cut off from any safety in the south, they had turned for
shelter to us. Dame Math speedily took over the nursing of Toross,
while his mother never left him day or night if she could help.
My uncle was plainly caught between two demands — that of the
army battering the invaders and his inborn wish to protect his own,
which was the dalesman's heritage. But, because he had from the
first argued that combination against the foe was our only hope, he
chose the army.
He marshaled what forces he could without totally stripping the
dale, leaving a small but well-trained troop to the command of
Marshal Dagale. There was a thaw at the beginning of the Month of
the Hawk and, taking advantage of that, he left.
I watched him alone from the gatetower (for Dame Math had been
summoned to Toross, who had taken a turn for the worse), just as I
had stood in the courtyard minutes earlier pouring the spiced
journey drink from the war ewer into the horns of the men to wish
them fair fortune. That ewer I still held. It was cunningly wrought
in the form of a mounted warrior, the liquid pouring through the
mouth of his horse. There was a slight drip from it into the snow.
Red it was, like blood. Seeing it, I shivered and quickly smeared
over the spot so that I might not see what could be a dark
omen.
We kept Ithkrypt ever-prepared, not knowing — for no messengers
came now — how went the war, only believing that it might come to
us without warning. I wondered if my uncle had dreamed again, and
what dire fortellings those dreams had brought him. That we might
never know.
There was one more heavy snow, closing the pass, which gave us
an illusion of safety while it lasted. But spring came early that
year. And with the second thaw a messenger from my uncle arrived,
mainly concerned with the necessity for keeping the dale as much a
fortress as we could. He said little of what the army in the south
had done, and his messenger had only gloom to spread. There were no
real battles. Our men had to turn to the tactics of Waste outlaws,
making quick raids on enemy supply lines and camps, to do all the
damage they could.
He had one bit of news: that Lord Ulric of Ulmsdale had sent a
party south under the command of Lord Kerovan, but he himself had
been ill. It was now thought that Lord Kerovan might return to take
control at Ulmsdale if the invading army forced a landing at
Ulmsport as they had at Jorby and other points along the coast.
That night, when I was free of the many duties that now were
mine, I took up the gryphon, as I had not for a long time. I thought on him who
had sent it to me. Where did he lie this night? Under the stars
with his sword to hand, not knowing when the battle-horn might blow
to arms? I wished him well with all my heart, though I knew so
little of him.
There was warmth against my palm, and the globe glowed in the
dusky room. It did not in that moment seem strange to me; rather it
was comforting, easing for a moment my burdens.
The globe was no longer clear. I could not see the gryphon.
Rather there was a swirling mist within it, forming shadows —
shadows that were struggling men. One was ringed about, and they
bore in upon him. I cried out at the sight, though none of it was
clear. And I was afraid that this talisman from my lord had now
shown me his death. I would have torn the chain from my neck and
thrown the thing away; yet that I could not do. The globe cleared,
and the gryphon watched me with its red eyes. Surely my imagination
alone had worked that.
"There you are!" Yngilda's voice accused me. "Toross is very
uneasy. They wish you to come."
She watched me, I thought, jealously. Since she had come from
behind the curtain of shock that had hidden her on her arrival, she
was once again the Yngilda of Trevamper. Sometimes I needed all my
control not to allow my tongue sharpness in return when she spoke
so, as if she were mistress here and I a lazy serving maid.
Toross mended slowly. His fever had yielded to Dame Math's
knowledge, but it left him very weak. We had discovered that
sometimes I was able to coax him to eat or to keep him quiet when
the need arose. For his sake I was willing to serve so. Yet lately
I had come to dislike the way his hand clung to mine when I sat
beside him and the strange way he looked at me and smiled, as if he
had some claim on me that no one could deny.
This night I was impatient at such a summons, though I obeyed
it, for I was still shaken by what I had seen, or imagined I had
seen, in the globe. I willed myself not to believe that this had
been a true farseeing. Though with men at desperate war, and my
lord with them, I could well accept he was so struck down. At that
moment I wished that I did have the farsight, or else that we had a
Wisewoman with such skill. But Dame Math did not countenance the
uses of that power.
That party of kinsmen had been only the first of the refugees to
find their way hither. If my uncle had farseen that we might have
to open our doors and supplies to such, he had not mentioned it. I
wondered, marking each morn as I measured out the food for the day
(which had become one of my more serious duties since Dame Math had
the overseeing of the sick and wounded) whether we could eat even
sparingly until harvest, if this continued.
For the most part the newcomers were lands-people, women and
children, with a sprinkling of old or wounded men, few of them able
to help us man any defense that might be needed. I had spoken with
Dame Math and the marshal only the evening before, the three of us
deciding that as soon as the weather lightened sufficiently, they
would be sent on to the west, where there were dales untouched by
war, even to the House of Dames at Norstead. We dared not keep the
burden of useless hands here.
Now as I came into the chamber where Toross lay, I was trying to
occupy my mind with plans for such an exodus, rather than allow
myself to think of the shadows in the globe. About that I could do
nothing. I must consider what I could do.
He was braced up by pillows, and it seemed to me that he looked
better than he had since they brought him here. If this was so, why
had they sent for me? Such a question was actually on my lips when
the Lady Islaugha arose from a stool by the bed and moved away, he
holding out his hand in welcome to me.
She did not glance in my direction, but took up a tray, and with
a hasty murmur left the room.
"Joisan, come here where I may truly look upon you!" His voice
was stronger also. "There are shadows beneath your eyes; you drive
yourself too hard, dear heart!"
I had come to the stool, but I did not sit. Instead I studied
his face closely. It was thin and white, with lines set by
suffering. But there was reason in his eyes, not the cloudiness of
a fevered mind. And that uneasiness I had felt with him filled
me.
"We all have duties in plenty here, Toross. I do no more or less
than my share."
I spoke shortly, not knowing whether to comment on his using an
endearment he had no right to give to me who was a wedded wife.
"Soon it will all be over," he said. "In Norstead the war and
its ugliness cannot touch you — "
"Norstead? What mean you, Toross? Those who go to Norstead are
the refugees. We cannot keep them here, our supplies will not allow
it. But our own people do not go. Perhaps you will ride with them —
"
As soon as I said that, I felt again a slight lightening of
burden. Life in Ithkrypt would be easier without these kinsfolk
ever at my side.
"But you shall go also." He said that as calmly as if there
could be no question. "A maid has no place in a keep as good as
besieged — "
Dame Math — surely she had not planned so behind my back? No, I
knew her better. Then I lost that touch of panic — Toross had not
the least authority over me. At my uncle's orders, or at Kerovan's,
would I leave, but for no other.
"You forget, I am not a maid. My lord knows I am at Ithkrypt. He
will come for me here. So I stay until that hour."
Toross' face flushed. "Joisan, do you not see? Why do you cling
loyally to that one? He has not claimed you within the marriage
term; that is already two months gone, is that not so? You can now
give bride-refusal without any breaking of oaths. If he wanted you,
would he not have come before this?"
"Through the ranks of the enemy, no doubt?" I countered. "Lord
Kerovan leads his father's armsmen in the south. This is no time to
say that the days of agreement be strictly kept. Nor do I break
bond unless my lord himself says he does not want me!" Perhaps that
was not quite so, for I had as much pride as any woman. But I
wished Toross to understand, not to put into blunt words what could
not be unsaid. If he went farther, it would end all friendship
between us, and I had liked him.
"You are free if you wish it," he repeated stubbornly. "And if
you are truthful, Joisan, you know that this is your wish. Surely
that I — what I feel for you and have since first I saw you is
plain. And you feel the same, if you will allow yourself to — "
"Untrue, Toross. What I tell you now is as strong as if I took
Flame Oath — as I shall if you need that to make you understand. I
am Lord Kerovan's wife and so I will remain as long as we live and
he does not deny it. As a wife it is honor-breaking and unfitting
that I listen to such words as you have just said. I cannot come to
you again!"
I turned and ran, though I heard him stir and give a gasp of
pain, then cry out my name. I did not look back, but came into the
great hall. There was the Lady Islaugha ladling broth from a pot
into a bowl, and I went to her swiftly.
"Your son needs you," I told her. "Do not ask me to go to him
again."
She looked up at me, and I could see in her face that she knew
what had happened and that she hated me furiously because I had
turned from him. To her he was her heart's core, to which all must
be allowed and given.
"You fool!" she spat at me.
"Not such a fool as I would be if I listened." That much of a
retort I allowed myself, and then stood aside as, with the slopping
bowl still in her hands, she hurried towards Toross' room.
I remained by the fire, stretching out my chilled hands to it.
Was I a fool? What had I of Lord Kerovan to keep with me? A bauble
of crystal — after eight years of marriage which was no marriage.
Yet for me there had been no choice, and I did not regret what I
had just done.