?A hhhh,? Rudi Mackenzie said, and let himself slide blissfully deeper into one of the tubs to which the Readstowners had shown their guests. ?Ahhh, indeed,? Odard said happily, sitting up in his own bath and scrubbing at his nails with a small brush.? Warm hospitality.?
Rudi nodded, with his hair floating around his neck and shoulders. ?Now this, my friends, is an improvement over squatting in a cold creek with your ballocks crawling up, that it is,? he said.?Or a cloth and a pan of hot water by a fire with your backside freezing.? ?Or just plain dirt and smell,? Fred Thurston said. With a wide white grin:?I remember the first time I came back from a three-week field exercise with my Junior ROTC class. My mother said: How are you? And I just said: Mom, I stink.?
The smile faded; Rudi judged that he was thinking of his father again, or perhaps his mother and sisters, trapped in Boise with an elder brother who?d turned to parricide to make the position of President hereditary. Lawrence Thurston had been about to call real elections. That and the birth of a son to Martin?s wife had sealed his fate.
If his mother suspects that Martin killed his father that will be a grim thing indeed, the Mackenzie thought. Having to treat her son as before, knowing herself watched and every word and glance weighed to see if she suspects.
He didn?t suppose Martin would hurt his own kin without need… but he?d shown himself to be a pellucidly ruthless man. By killing his father, and by allying with the Church Universal and Triumphant.
Though that may simply be the arrogance of a young man who thinks he can ride the tiger without ending up inside it.
The thoughts ran on as he lay watching the younger man?s misery fade, or at least burrow deeper:
Or does Fred wonder if they believe Martin?s tale that he was responsible? That would be an extra twist of the knife in his chest, surely it would. Not likely though, I would say. His mother struck me as a very clever lady indeed. And none too friendly with Martin?s wife, who I think has been whispering ambition into his receptive ear for years now. ?This rather reminds me of the baths at Mt. Angel,? Ignatius said, after a swift glance at the younger Thurston?s face.?The layout is similar.?
He?s a kindly man, the good Father, Rudi thought. A gentle one, even. Except when there?s a sword in his hand, the which you would not think unless you?d seen him fight. And then he is a thing of terror to anyone on the sharp and pointy end. ?That it is,? he said aloud.?Though not as prayerful, to be sure. It was an interesting thing, the first time I scrubbed my hide with a brother reading Scripture from the lectern.?
The Mackenzie heir was a frequent guest at the great fortress-monastery, and had studied there in its famed university and libraries, and its equally famous combat schools. The Clan and the Order were old allies, from the days after the Change, and from the wars against the Association. ?It?s not much like Castle Todenangst,? Odard grinned.?I hear the Silver Tower?-where Sandra Arminger had her private quarters amid the castle-cum-palace-?has baths carved out of whole pink marble blocks, and gold taps.? ?Sure, and Mathilda has told me the same,? Rudi said, and then had a sudden vision of her naked in such a setting, rising out of the suds
… ?Even the guest quarters for humble vassals from Gervais had sunken tubs with silver fittings,? Odard went on, looking slightly dreamy at the thought.?The Lord Protector and Lady Sandra didn?t steal anything but the best when they were looting the decorative features for Todenangst. This is comfortable, though.?
Albeit a little different from the way Mackenzies would have handled it. For one thing, the womenfolk were in a separate section, but Rudi was used to that; there were plenty of folk back in the western lands who had such taboos. And the bulk of their party of both sexes were elsewhere, this apparently being the gentlefolk?s part of the manor. The tubs were of the old world, enameled cast iron on claw feet and meant for single bathers, but amply sized for his six-foot-two, and the water was gratefully hot and smelled slightly of herbs, aromatic steam rising from the surface and misting on the room?s tile floors and walls. There was plenty of it, too, from a big sheet-metal tank with its own wood-fired furnace that also served to keep the room comfortably warm. ?This was part of the fire department, in the old days,? Ingolf said, scratching his hairy muscular chest.?Dad started joining the buildings together that first year and moving?em around. Everyone had to live close. It was still damned cold here in March when the Change came, that?s the tag end of winter here. We knew it would be worse come next winter and all the old-style furnaces were kaput, and we could only make so many new ones, what with everything else that had to be done. I remember thinking how cool it was to be able to go from place to place inside, you know how kids are. Convenient for playing hide-and-seek in a blizzard, too!?
They all nodded. In the new world that had grown up with them there were few places where a single family could live off by itself, for reasons ranging from defense to the sheer difficulty of heating water, if you wanted something better than hanging a bucket over an open fire. With the aches and stiffness soothed out of him, Rudi?s thoughts turned to the next necessity. ?I take it your sister-in-law Wanda is a cook of note?? he said respectfully; that was an occupation honored among Mackenzies, who admired skilled makers of all sorts.?She seemed to be putting her own hand to it, as well.?
The which I approve of, he thought.
His mother had always done her share of the chores in Dun Juniper?s hall, and seen he?d had experience of scrubbing dishes as well.
Otherwise I might have gotten above myself, with all the time I spent among Association nobles, and they looking down their noses at such. ?Yah. Wanda was a refugee herself-one of the first ones to get here,? he said.?Her family were brewers in Madison; she was their only kid. They called it a microbrewery then-God knows why, from the way she talks it was a hell of a lot bigger than the one here.? ?Which isn?t small,? Edain said. ?They were in a city, and lived?? Odard said, slightly surprised; that was a bit unusual, and much more unusual for such to end up with rank and position. ?They left Madison about three days after the Change-they had a big wagon and some horses, some sort of show-off thing brewers did back then. Turned up here… I can just remember it, mainly how excited I was… about ten days after that. With all the equipment they needed to make first-rate beer, sacks of good hop and malting barley seed, some of their workers, and six big draught horses, Clydesdales. You can imagine how popular they were!? ?I find it equally impressive that they arrived here without being robbed,? Ignatius observed. ?Just so,? Rudi said.?And then she married the heir of Readstown?? ?It was a bit more complicated than that, but yah hey, she did, six years later. She already ran our food supplies when I left besides the brewery, under Mom-not just cooking, you know, the storing and curing and smoking and salting and preserving side of things too.?
Rudi nodded gravely; that was a heavy responsibility, when sloppiness or lack of skill could ruin a year?s sweating-hard work and condemn an entire settlement to hunger, or at least a diet dull and unhealthful until the new crops came in.
More important still in this land of iron winters, he thought. ?You guys smell a lot better now,? a youngster?s voice said at the door.
Mark Vogeler came in quickly and closed it against draughts, leaning against the jamb with his hands in his pockets, elaborately casual but with a barely suppressed excitement. He seemed to have fond memories of Ingolf, and doubtless this was the biggest interruption of the round of seasons and lessons and chores he could remember. ?Hi, Mark,? Ingolf replied, and heaved himself out of the tub. ?Dinner?s on?? ?Pretty soon, Unc? Ingolf, und Mom?s chust looking after Jenny a bit before we start.?
He has that way of speech his father does, only stronger still, Rudi noticed. Mother would be interested; she always did like to place a man?s accent.
At Ingolf?s look of enquiry the nephew went on:?The youngest. There?s… well, you know about me, and Dave and Melly-only she wants to be called Melinda-in-full these days. There?s um, Ingolf.. . and Sue, and Jenny now too. Jenny?s not on solid food yet.? ?Ed?s been busy,? Ingolf said, and the boy blushed a little.? And Wanda.?
A hesitation, and then the youngster went on:?You really going to marry the pretty lady with the eye patch?? ?Yah, I am.? ?Cool!?
Ingolf?s grin was rare, but the warmer when it came.?You know, Mark, that?s exactly the way I feel about it too!? ?I mean, she?s gorgeous and she?s got a twin and wears that great stuff und talks dat strange language… and I bet she?s done all sorts of great things! Real adventures, like you have, Unc?, we heard a little about that. Not just hung around home, like… well.? ?Oh, Christ, don?t you start getting ideas about running off and having adventures, Mark!? Ingolf said.?I did that and ended up in the stupidest damn war since the Change, bar none, for years. Sheer dumb luck I didn?t get killed for damn-all nothing, like poor Bert Kuykendall. And he wasn?t more than a couple of years older than you are now when he came running out of his tent and caught an arrow with his eyeball.?
The boy flushed and looked a little mutinous; Rudi judged he was at the age when a youngster dreamed of doing the wild deeds for the deeds? own sake, and never considered the price of them, or the desperate need that made men willing to pay it. A chill took him despite the heat of the water.
And how many glad boys like him-on all sides-will lie sightless as a feast for the Dark Mother?s scald crows, before this is done? he thought. How many friendly garths like this will be roofless and burnt, their folk knowing exile and hunger even if they live? The necessity doesn?t change the black wickedness of it.
He rose and took one of the towels that heated on racks beside the boiler, hoarded pre-Change cotton kept for honored guests. The boy looked at him, then did an almost comical double take, looking in a way that took in the scars. The expression of awed respect went deeper, as he glanced at all of them in the same light, lingering on the purple weal that marked Odard?s left forearm. Now that Rudi thought about it, this was a collection of tried fighting men that would impress many a lad.
The more so, I judge, because we?re none of us impossibly older than he; Fred and Edain have only four years on him. Mark?s on the brink of manhood, and eager for it past bearing. It?s well I remember that feeling!
The Mackenzie spoke in a cheerful tone:?My sister Mary has indeed done much, things wild and deadly, but from duty and necessity, not from choice, my young friend,? he said.
Then he smiled:?She and Ritva are of the Dunedain, the Rangers who?re sworn to protect the weak and oppressed, and who travel and explore and fight their whole lives long. Which tends not to be all that much of a longness, as it were.?
Mark?s eyes went wider, and Rudi continued:?It?s their trade, a hard and difficult one; that and guarding travelers and hunting bandits and scouting in war. Now, at your age, I also wanted adventures, and I will admit it. Remember though, an adventure is someone else neck-deep in a dung heap, and that far, far away! Until the bards get to work on it.? ?Bards?? the youngster said, frowning in puzzlement. ?The songsmiths, the storytellers, you?d say. They can take anything and put a polish on it like hammered gold.? ?Says the man who laughed as he rode mad buffalo, jumping from beast to beast, one to the next, with enemies shooting arrows at him the while?? Edain snorted, rubbing his oak-colored curls vigorously with a towel of his own.?And it?s a wonder I don?t have white hair now, from the watching of it: what would I say to Da if I came back without you?? ?That was necessary. They were chasing us,? Rudi said quellingly. ?The buffalo were the best way to shake the pursuit.?
The younger Mackenzie winked at the Readstown boy.?But the Chief, he grinned amidst the million of them while he rode the wild bulls, that he did, while one slip would have meant being hammered to paste.? ?Afterwards I remember mostly snorting water out through my nose, and it half mud from the dust I?d breathed,? Rudi said, and threw the wet towel at Edain, who dodged with a laugh of his own. ?And you?re all too likely to have a war coming to you,? he went on to the boy.
Ingolf nodded soberly, but his nephew seemed to feel nothing but excitement at the thought. Rudi shook his head, sighed, and dressed. The two clansmen drew on clean drawers and then pulled their best saffron-dyed linen shirts over their heads, wrapped their kilts and pinned the garments and their plaids with the brooches kept for social occasions, silver wrought in knotwork or intricate running designs of elongated gripping beasts and geometric shapes, studded with turquoise and carnelian. ?Is that the way people dress in… in…? Mark asked. ?Montival,? Rudi supplied.?The some of us do-we of the Clan Mackenzie. It?s the style of our ancestors, so, from long before the Change, which our folk remembered after it.?
He remembered things his mother and his stepfather Nigel Loring had said, and amended it to: ?More or less the style of some of our ancestors.? ?Absurd barbarian fashion,? Odard put in as he donned his parti-colored court-style Portlander hose.
That required perching on a stool and gathering it up to the toe and considerable care and effort; Juniper Mackenzie had once told him that the effect had a strong resemblance to what she?d known as panty hose, but with even fine bias-cut linen a lot less stretchy and convenient than nylon. The carefully preserved jupon and tunic came out to follow, donned with foppish care.
As the baron of Gervais added a ring and admired the effect on one hand Rudi reflected that Odard really enjoyed dressing up in what Associates insisted on calling garb, no matter how uncomfortable, so long as it was rich and sightly. Not being able to do so every day was a real hardship to him, albeit one he bore without too much complaint.
Mathilda was probably putting on her set of the same; she?d left the cotte-hardi in Iowa, observing that once past Wisconsin most of the people they?d be meeting would be either Cutters or cannibals, unable to appreciate a lady?s formal dress and all too likely to put her in situations where skirts would be a handicap. ?But I?d guess she?s not putting it on just yet,? Rudi said aloud. ?Have you ever observed, my friends, that a woman may have no more surface area than a man-? ?Distributed differently,? Fred Thurston said; he was donning something very close to the green dress uniform of the old American army, with a dark beret on his short wiry hair.?Different in a good way.? ?Granted, by the Foam-Born! But the same area of skin, do you see? Yet why cannot she wash in the amount of time a man finds ample, unless the water is freezing, or has things with fangs in it, so?? ?Or put on a kilt as fast as we do,? Edain observed, tucking the little sgian dubh, the black knife, into its sheath in his sock-hose. ?It?s a mystery of the Mother-of-All, that it is.? ?Christ, this still fits,? Ingolf said, donning his own clothing.
It was a set of blue linen pants with copper rivets, a light roll-necked sweater and a denim jacket dyed with wild indigo. He?d left it all behind when he rode off to the Sioux War, and it had been carefully preserved by his sister-in-law. More of the fittings were pre-Change salvage than his relatives wore now.
Then he worked his shoulders.?Well… the jacket?s a bit tight here. I hadn?t quite gotten my full growth then. It?ll do, though. I?ve got enough range of arm for getting the beer to mouth-height!?
A soprano voice came from the other side of the door, a mutter of Sindarin and then: ?Aren?t you people ready yet? I?m starving!? ?Harry, I got you those sixty-four acres because you?re my sister?s cousin-in-law. People understand that. Now it?s up to you to make what you can of it before you start asking for more favors. People will understand that, too.?
Rudi halted, and the others did perforce behind him; the half-closed door leading to the vestibule let the conversation through only because one side of it was being conducted at the level of a bad-tempered bellow on Edward Vogeler?s part. There was a murmur from the other man… ?No, I?m not going to give you anymore County land,? Edward Vogeler said.? Or more woodlot rights or fishing quotas.?
Another murmur, and:?Because you can?t work more than a tenth-section by yourself!? the Sheriff went on.?It?ll take you years to get that much going, the way it?s grown up in scrub.?
Another murmur, and the reply was even louder: ?No! This isn?t goddamned Iowa, or Marshall, or even Ellsworth-I?m not going to tell someone they have to work for you just because their folks were refugees. Pay someone if you can, though with what God only knows. Hell, you borrowed all the equipment you?ve got-mostly from me! Und only one of your kids is old enough yet to do much fieldwork-Mary Mother alone knows how Janet?s going to make do there on her own without a grown woman to help. Now buckle to und get dat land cleared and be happy I?m letting you off the land tax for four years! If you had any sense, you?d stay and work with your father-in-law and do it bit by bit.?
Edward Vogeler was still scowling when Rudi coughed diplomatically and came through the entranceway, but his face relaxed. ?Sorry. Business. Right this way, gentlemen, ladies,? he said. ?Let?s get you all a brew. Unless you?d like wine? We keep some for company.? ?Ah… no, your beer is of a surpassing excellence, Sheriff,? Rudi said.?I?ll stick with that.?
That has the merit of being true; and it means I need not say that I haven?t had a decent glass of wine since we crossed the Rockies, he thought, as everyone else murmured agreement. Most of them taste as if a fox had peed in the vat with the grapes. ?Beer we got. Also cider, applejack, cherry brandy, peach brandy, whiskey, and vodka.?
The cavernous banquet hall had a floor of polished concrete, and the ceiling above was a simple V of steel rafters and corrugated metal sheets supported by iron pillars, all obviously built before the Change. Their host escorted them through into the great room and jerked his thumb at the row of barrels resting along one wall on X-shaped stands of fragrant pine boards. ?Help yourselves. Gotta run, get some things done first. Mark will show you?round.?
The mugs were old cast glass this time, and sitting in beds of crushed ice. Rudi decided on a lighter wheat beer, instead of the dark bock he?d had when Wanda greeted them. There were half a dozen types.
And each better than the last, he thought respectfully after his first sip. ?Ice at the end of summer!? Mathilda said, impressed.?We had that at the Palace of course, but-?
Mark Vogeler looked at her oddly, and Rudi didn?t think it was just for the Lidless Eye in the heraldic shield on her chest. ?Doesn?t it freeze out west in… in Montival?? he said. ?Several times a year. And we get snow, even down in the valleys sometimes,? she said. ?For variety in the endless winter rainfall,? Odard said whimsically.?I understand that at least the sun comes out here between October and May. Sometimes. We call that period the Black Months, back home.? ?You mean… the snow doesn?t stay all winter where you come from??
Ingolf chuckled.?Mark?s looking at you funny for a reason, Matti. Believe me, getting enough ice laid down to last out the summer is not a problem here. Wait until you?ve seen one of our winters.? ?We?ve been known to have some cold weather in the Powder River country,? Virginia Kane said, prickly about her homeland on the High Plains. ?Idaho too,? Fred Thurston added.?Granted Boise?s not as bad as the up-country, or Wyoming.?
Ingolf made a gesture that was half acknowledgment, half disagreement. ?You don?t get blizzards like ours. It?s a lot wetter here than most places out west that aren?t on a mountainside, and it?s just as damned cold as it gets in Wyoming, Virginia. Blizzards here can bury a barn, and they could start any time now, too; Indian Summer?s unpredictable.?
He drew them both a mug, expertly tapering off the tail of foam, and looked around the hall. ?Ah, bratwash and all the fixings!? he said, with Mary smiling and looping her arm around his waist and enjoying his pleasure.?Damn, this takes me back. I remember the first time we could afford it, when I was about ten. Dad had a big party like this, to celebrate us finally really getting on our feet.?
Folk were setting out trestle tables and benches, hauling bright lanterns up to the cross-girders, and wheeling in great wicker bins woven of split oak and full of fragrant warm loaves. The center space held four large hearths made from metal barrels cut lengthwise and full of glowing hardwood coals topped by mesh grills, beneath a broad dismountable smoke hood and metal pipe chimney. Right now big shallow pans were simmering there, with an intense smell of onions and… ?Beer?? Father Ignatius said with interest.?Some sort of marinade??
He sipped at the mug in his fist with evident pleasure; he was a man of studied self-control and moderation, but saw no reason to pretend he wasn?t enjoying a beer if he was going to drink it at all.
One reason I like him, Rudi thought. He?s not like some Christian clerics I?ve met, who act as if they thought the world and all its pleasures were an evil produced by that bad spirit of theirs, rather than the Maker of Stars. ?Yah,? Mark said, obviously happy to enlighten the foreigners. ?You simmer the brats… that?s a sausage-? ?My baptismal name was Bergfried, my son,? the priest said gently, his slightly tilted dark eyes crinkling in amusement.?I?ve heard of bratwurst. My mother and sisters make very good ones, in fact.? ?Oh, sorry, Father. Well, you simmer the brats in beer broth with onions, and then you grill?em. We?ll be starting with that, though.?
He nodded to a much larger pot, which Wanda Vogeler was stirring, occasionally taking a sip from the ladle. ?Onion, cheese and beer soup,? Ingolf said reverently.?God, that smells just like the recipe Mom used, the one she?d never let anyone write down.? ?Yah, Grandma taught Mom, all right. Said she was getting too old to do it herself.?
Ingolf nodded, his face somber again for a moment; the news of his mother?s death was fresh for him, but his nephew was too young to sustain grief for years. Rudi took a deep sniff: under the cooking smells were others that made him suspect the feasting hall doubled as storage most of the time; he could detect strong hints of something sweet. ?Maple sugar,? Ingolf said in reply to his question, as they stood waiting for the trestles to be set up.?We get a lot of that and we used to put the barrels and tubs here. That and beer, usually, or that?s what we used it for when I was a kid.? ?Ingolf,? Fred asked thoughtfully as he watched the crowd trickle in; his father had been a general, after all, and besides formal training as an officer he?d grown up around recruitment and logistics. ?Just how many people are there in Readstown??
Ingolf looked at him in mild surprise.?When I left? A bit more than a hundred farms that came through; call it, oh, twenty-five hundred people, Farmers and refugees together. That?s in the whole Sheriffry of Readstown, not just?-his gesture took in the settlement-?the homeplace here; say a hundred-odd here counting kids. Probably more now all up.? ?Three thousand six hundred in the Sheriffry,? Mark Vogeler said. ?We took a count last year. The Bossman wanted to know.? ?Is that typical?? the Boisean continued. ?Oh, some are a bit bigger, some a bit smaller,? Mark put in, obviously proud of his knowledge-and his country.?We don?t have big cities like Iowa, but there are some pretty large towns-Richland Center has three thousand people all by itself. I?ve been there. God, it?s more crowded than I thought any place could be. Half a million in the whole of the Free Republic, if you can imagine that many people.? ?Hmmmm,? Fred said.
Mathilda shaped a soundless whistle. Rudi was impressed himself. Not nearly as many inhabitants as great Iowa, but it was still as many as the PPA had, and half what the United States of Boise or the Cutters could boast; seven or eight times as many as the Clan Mackenzie. And Richland wasn?t even the only such bossmandom in what had been Wisconsin; there was Ellsworth, to the north, and a spattering of independent little villages and counties farther northeast. ?And it seems this land breeds many strong young men,? Rudi said thoughtfully.?No doubt it?s formidable they would be, should foemen or reivers come this way.? ?Right!? Mark said, his chest puffing out slightly.?We Readstowners can muster a battalion of three hundred now for the Free Republic?s National Guard.?
Or should their Sheriff have a quarrel with the neighbors, Rudi thought. From what Ingolf says there was a fair bit of that, at least in his father?s time, before things found their balance here.
Mark went on:?A quarter of them are cavalry. A lot of our guys fought in the Sioux War, or in the trouble we had with Ellsworth, or against outlaws and stuff. Our team won third place in the Guard muster competition at Richland Center this June.?
The tables were set up now, and covered with checked cloths; a group with drums and instruments-he recognized a tuba and an accordion-began playing cheerful music with an oom-pah, oom-pah beat for a minute or two. That was apparently a signal for everyone to seek their seats; the farm workers and laborers at the lower tables had a guest or two to each family group, and Mark and those of his siblings old enough led Rudi and his immediate followers to the master?s table.
The hall was filled with chatter and smiles; even the Southsiders were only mildly nervous despite the strangeness of place, folk and even food-many of them still thought of buttered bread as an exotic treat. The Mackenzie judged the Readstown folk were showing the pleasure to be expected at a break in routine, plus anticipation of the feast and the happiness anyone who lived close to the land felt when the main harvest was in and safely stored.
And local pride that they can afford to guest so many strangers so well, he thought.
Which was pardonable. It did show that this was a prosperous community and well run. ?I?m glad it?s not Samhain itself,? Edain murmured to him as they took their chairs.
Those seemed to be something of a luxury; most of the seating lower down was benches. More benches ran around the outer walls. On them were hollowed pumpkins with candlelight flickering through carved gap-toothed faces, between cooling rows of pies, some pumpkin, others apple, peach, cherry or rhubarb, all grouped around bowls of thick whipped cream sweetened with maple sugar or honey.
A Clan dun might show exactly the same jack-o?-lantern display around this mark on the Wheel of the Year… but they both suspected that Readstown didn?t take them nearly as seriously as their own folk. ?So am I also glad it?s not quite Samhain yet,? Rudi said dryly. ?Inauspicious it would be, sure and it would.?
Every Mackenzie household set an empty place at the Samhain feasts, but that was a symbol of the welcome they extended to the beloved dead who might visit on the day when the Veil was thinnest. The problem was that other things might stray into the world of men on such a day; if someone actually came through the door and seated himself he had to be fed and entertained with everything of the best, but matters could get very tense indeed. Such an outsider might be anything-or possessed of such. The world held many beings who were not of humankind, some friendly, some playful in ways heedless of men and their lives and loves and needs, some not friendly at all.
Ingolf Vogeler had come into Sutterdown as just such a stranger on Samhain eve, and deeds bloody and terrible had followed; they were here now because of them.
The head table held the Sheriff and his immediate family, and his chief officers and their families-they included the head of his deputies, the field boss and stock boss who managed the Sheriff?s own farmland and beasts, the old Ojibwa Indian-Pierre Walks Quiet-who was chief forester and game warden, the fair-haired woman named Samantha who was housekeeper under the Sheriff?s wife, and a few others. Wanda Vogeler hung her apron over the back of her chair and wiped her hands on it before she sat down and beamed at them. ?Everything ready-at last!? she said.?Und Jenny sleeping-at last. Woof! Children! No wonder people get old!? ?There?s nothing you ever enjoyed more than laying on a big feed, Wanda,? Ingolf said teasingly.?Unless you?ve changed more than I think.? ?Nothing I enjoy more except eating it myself,? she said.?And talking while I eat. And dancing afterwards. Both with people who aren?t the same ones I see every day, and I know everything they?re going to say before they say it.?
Her husband cleared his throat and rose. The noise in the hall fell off and then vanished; faces turned towards them, some already chewing on rolls or pieces of cheese from the rounds and blocks and wedges that were set out on cutting boards down the tables, alternating with tubs of butter and jugs of milk, beer and cider. ?Well, folks, you all know my brother Ingolf is back for a visit.?
There was a cheer and a ripple of raised mugs; Edward Vogeler looked surprised, and so did Ingolf. ?We all heard how well Ingolf did in the Sioux War,? Ed went on. ?How the Bossman of Marshall gave him that medal and offered to make him a general.?
Rudi and his party looked at Ingolf in surprise; the only tales he?d told them about his part in that conflict had been things comical or tragic, mostly reflecting badly on himself. ?And how his salvage team got all the way to the East Coast after that, chosen by the Bossman of Iowa because he was the best. First people from the Midwest to do dat since the Change!?
Family pride rang in his voice as the folk of the steading cheered again. Then he went on: ?With him is his intended and her brother Rudi Mackenzie, the guy he?s ramrod for now, who comes all the way from the west coast-that?s a first, too! They?re our guests here, and so are their people. Let?s show them hospitality, and how the Free Republic of Richland, and we Readstowners, treat guests. They?ve got a priest with them, good Father Ignatius, and I?d like him to lead us in saying grace.?
He bowed his head, and Ignatius rose: ?O Christ our God, bless?-he signed himself-?the food and drink of Your servants for You are holy always, now and ever, and forever. As Jacob greeted Esau his brother, may we all be as brothers to one another, in Your love. Amen.?
There was a murmur of Amen from up and down the tables. Rudi and the others of the Old Religion waited in respectful silence with their heads bowed-courtesy, and also duty to their host-and then signed their plates with the Invoking Pentagram and quietly murmured: ?Harvest Lord who dies for the ripened corn Corn Mother who births the fertile field Blessed be those who share this bounty;
And Blessed the mortals who toiled with You
Their hands helping Earth to bring forth life.?
He didn?t think Edward Vogeler noticed what they were about, or perhaps he very thoroughly chose not to. Several others-the housekeeper among them-did, he thought.
A girl carried around a tureen of the soup; Wanda Vogeler wielded the ladle for the table, and Rudi accepted his gratefully. Baskets held half a dozen types of bread-fine white loaves with a crackling glaze, black rye, rich coarse-textured pumpernickel, round rolls with crosses cut in their surface, squares of slightly sweet cornbread. He cut a slice of the rye because it was rare at home and wielded the spoon with gratitude. The soup had a deep savory smoky richness that was just what you needed after a day?s hard work in brisk fall weather.
The bratwurst were sizzling on the grills, and a team split crusty rolls, buttered them and set out mustard and sauerkraut and sauteed onions to go with them. Rudi took several when they were borne around. His brows went up a little as others pulled back the cloths on tubs of honey-glazed chicken breasts and steaks kissed with garlic, pork chops, racks of ribs and skewers of venison and lamb and onions ready to go on the coals, and it became apparent that the brats were merely the introduction.
My Southsiders will be happy, he thought; they had a carnivore?s idea of food.
Then the vegetable dishes came in, on wheeled trolleys. ?Yah hey, scalloped potatoes with bacon,? Ingolf said, rubbing his hands as a heavy ceramic pot was lifted to the table and plopped on an oakwood coaster; it bubbled under its brown-gold topping of grated cheddar.?My favorite!? ?Topped with cheese,? Mary Havel said.?It?s good cheese, all of it… but… don?t you ever get tired of cheese here??
Ingolf grinned at her.?Tired of food?? he said.
Edward Vogeler called this his study. They seated themselves in big comfortable chairs around a table of polished dark wood; a desk stood in the shadows of a corner, and books lined the walls. Rudi had a chance for a quick glance at them. You could tell a good deal about a man by what he chose to read. These seemed mainly practical-tomes on agriculture and stockbreeding, war and building and metalworking, along with rows of account books.
A few were recent titles, their printing and binding less machine-perfect-one read Salvaging Gears For Millwork, and another Modern Body Armor.
And up in a corner were a few tales he recognized, well read but looking dusty and neglected now: Joris of the Rock, one of Mathilda?s favorites and her mother?s before her, and Sir Guillame, by Donan Coyle, one of his own beloved since boyhood that he?d been given by Sir Nigel. He suspected those had been Ingolf?s, along with the Tarzan and the Wizard of Oz series.
Wanda bustled in behind them and set out a tray with a pot of hot comfrey-chicory so-called coffee and oatmeal cookies rich with walnuts and raisins. Then, a little to Rudi?s surprise, she seated herself near her husband, taking up a half-finished sweater from a basket and setting to work. A white-bibbed black cat took up station beneath her chair, occasionally darting a paw at the skein of wool as it jerked upward to the click of the knitting needles. ?Drink?? the Sheriff asked.?We do a good applejack, if I say so myself. Und I do.?
Rudi accepted his with a murmur of thanks. It was a comfortable room, smelling of polish, old tobacco smoke and leather and lit by good alcohol lanterns, with a couple of comely if worn rugs on the floor. A brick fireplace held a pleasant crackle of burning oak. On the mantelpiece above it were two black-bordered photographs: one of a thin hard-faced woman in late middle age, and another of a man who looked enough like the Vogeler brothers to be their father and probably was. Unlike the woman?s it was a pre-Change piece, with sharp edges and bright colors; he wore dark glasses, a khaki shirt and an odd peaked cap, with a metal star on his breast that Rudi recognized.
The master of Readstown stuffed a briar pipe as his guests settled in, and Ingolf did likewise. They grew tobacco here and were proud of the product.
A habit I do not admire, Rudi thought, coughing a little.
Smoking was rare in the far west, and he wasn?t sorry for it; he?d never used the weed himself, save as an aid to ceremony among folk to whom it was sacred. But it would be tactless to protest a man?s diversions under his own roof, and impious as well. After all, every home was a little world in itself, with its own customs and guardian spirits, whether it was a crofter?s cot or a manor like this.
Instead he sipped at the excellent apple brandy and tried not to feel too bloated. Those had been the best sausages he?d ever eaten, but even an hour of vigorous square dancing and polkas afterwards hadn?t worked most of the feast off.
The others here to talk business were Father Ignatius and Mathilda. Rudi thought the Sheriff had been a little surprised when they?d automatically included her.
And I am somewhat surprised that the Sheriff brought Pierre Walks Quiet in on things right away, he mused, nodding to the old Indian. Even if he does manage the Sheriffry?s forests and game, the which is a position of importance and honor. ?They aren?t kidding when they say Princess, Ed,? Ingolf said, with an inclination of his head towards Mathilda.?Her family runs half the country out there beyond the Rockies-most of what used to be Washington and part of Oregon too. She stands to inherit it. Only child.?
Mathilda nodded with regal courtesy.?And parts of British Columbia, my l-Sheriff. None of it?s nearly as densely populated as your country here in the Midwest, of course.? ?And Rudi?s relatives run most of the rest, one way or another.?
The older Vogeler nodded.?I?ve heard a little,? he said.?That there was a bunch of King Arthur stuff out there, at least.? ?That would be Rudi,? Mathilda said; her smile was half rueful and all charming.?His… other… name is Artos. It?s quite famous, in the west.? ?Yah. News travels so slow these days, und it gets twisted. All sorts of wild stories.? ?And Fred?s the son of the President of Boise.? ?The black kid?? Ed asked, surprise in his tone. ?Yah, yah. Though his elder brother is running it now. They?re.. . not friends. He?s OK. The brother isn?t.?
Ed?s face twisted a little for an instant, and Ingolf cleared his throat and explained the others, starting with Virginia and the twins. His brother?s eyebrows went up, turning his high forehead into a mass of corrugations. ?You?ve gotten quite a collection together, Mr. Mackenzie,? he said.?And you?re all heading east?? he said.
Rudi nodded.?To Nantucket itself. Ingolf has been there-?
The Sheriff?s eyes went wide and he stared at his brother with the pipe halfway to his mouth for a full fifteen seconds, before puffing it to a moment?s glow and then trickling smoke out his nose. ?I always thought you were crazy as much as you were brave,? he said bluntly.?I knew you?d gotten to the Atlantic, to Boston… but Nantucket? That?s where the Change started. Remember? Dad was watching TV right then and I was with him. That TV, right there.?
He pointed the stem of the pipe at a glass-fronted box; Rudi blinked at it, recognizing it from ones he?d seen, though mostly in abandoned ruins. He shook his head a little; his host had seemed so at home that it was a bit of a shock to realize he?d been a man grown at the Change, or nearly. Enough so that he kept this bit of junk around. ?Nah, I was asleep, remember?? Ingolf said. ?You came down crying.? ?I did?? Ingolf asked, shaking his head.?Damn, you know, that?s completely gone. But Nantucket… yah, I remember that damn well. Even if I was off my head a lot while I was there. Spookiest damn place I?ve ever seen, and that includes Corwin.?
The elder Vogeler brother crossed himself.?God might not like people sticking their noses in there. You know… like poking around Noah?s Ark.? ?My son,? Father Ignatius said,?God works through human beings. Even miracles only open possibilities to us, to act as human beings in this world. We have excellent evidence that something of overwhelming importance awaits us on Nantucket. Holy Mother Church has given Her blessing to this expedition. And the Cutter cult-the Church Universal and Triumphant-?
Ed crossed himself again.?Yah, I know about them, a little,? he said.?We?ve had a few of them through, these last couple of years, preaching. I always told them to keep moving, with a boot to the butt when I had to.?
Pierre Walks Quiet spoke.?More of them north of here; I hear stuff from my relatives. They?re bad news, bad manitou. Wendigo.?
Rudi bit back an exclamation that was mostly sheer irritation.
Is there anyplace they?re not making themselves a nuisance, to be sure? he thought.
Beneath the annoyance came a small cold crawling sensation down his spine at the word the old man used. His blood-father Mike Havel had been a quarter Anishinabe-his mother?s mother had been of the Ojibwa people-and Rudi had heard more than one tale of those sprits of cold and eternal hunger, and how they could possess a man. He remembered dead hands squeezing his throat, and eyes that were like a window into nothingness. ?Yes,? he said softly.?Yes, Wendigo would be as good a name as any for them. For their adepts, at least, and for the things with which they traffic.?
Ignatius continued to the Sheriff:?Then you will know how they are heretics and misleaders of innocent folk. Far worse, we have substantial evidence that they, their inner circle, are diabolists as well. Actual agents of the Adversary.?
Ed Vogeler grunted and crossed himself again.?Yah, from what Pete tells me, I?m not completely surprised. He?s got a steady head, Pete. Richland gave me a rap on the knuckles… hell, young Bill Clements had the nerve to give me a lecture on religious toleration, the damn pup.? ?I heard Bill was Bossman now,? Ingolf said. ?Yah hey, by the time everyone stopped talking after Al Clements died, it was a done deal. I?ve got no objection; that seems to be the way things are done nowadays and you have to keep up with progress. He?s a smart guy even if he really likes to hear himself talk.? ?So did Al,? Ingolf said.?I remember what he had to say about that stump.?
Edward Vogeler grinned for a second.?So do I. Why do you think I kept it around??
Then he sobered and continued:?It?s not that he likes these Cutter types-nobody much does, in the Free Republic, no Farmers or Sheriffs at least, nobody who counts. But he doesn?t realize… Hell, they?re not a religion, they?re a disease. I put up with all kinds here, we got some strange people settling in after the Change, but not them, and if the Bossman doesn?t like it he can come up from Richland Center and kiss my hairy Readstown ass. I?ve got plenty of other Sheriffs would back me up, on general principle. This isn?t goddamned Iowa where you need a permit from the Bossman?s clerks to visit the outhouse on your own land.?
Walks Quiet rolled himself a cigarette and added its tendrils to the haze beneath the rafters. ?Lots of people up north turned Wendigo in the bad time,? he said quietly; his eyes looked through the smoke as if he was peering through the veil of years.
Ingolf leaned over under the guise of reaching for a cookie and murmured in Rudi?s ear:?That?s how Pete lost his family. And why he headed south.?
The Indian continued:?Not everyone-there were plenty of people who knew how to hunt, fish, find wild rice, grow stuff like spuds-but plenty, yeah. The land couldn?t carry all the people there with nothing coming in,?specially after we got us some refugees turning up looking for a meal. It?s not like down here in the warm places where there was lots of grain and cattle once you got far enough from the cities.?
So there were Eaters, Rudi thought. But not quite so mad and desperate, and with plenty of what my Southsiders would call clean settlements in the same territory. That was sparsely peopled land even before the Change, but it?s bleak, from what I?ve read and heard, and what little Mike Havel told.
The Indian went on:?Nowadays they do pretty good up north, most years, but people remember just exactly how it was the neighbors pulled through. Lots of fights since over that. Preachers telling you it?s the way all the big Manitou wanted things to happen, that you?re not so bad; they get a hearing up there from some people.?
Ed Vogeler stirred his pipe?s bowl with a twig.?You planning on taking the northern route down the Lakes and out the St. Lawrence?? he said.?It?s been done now and then, but… rough way to go. You haven?t got all that much time before freeze-up.? ?After freeze-up, we thought,? Rudi said.?Ingolf says it can be done.? ?I always said Ingolf had more balls than sense,? the Sheriff said.?Never was a Vogeler didn?t have guts, but brains, now…?
Ingolf stiffened and flushed a little, then made himself relax with an effort that only an expert eye could see. Rudi thought that Wanda Vogeler did detect it; her eyes rolled slightly ceilingward, and she sighed.
But her husband did not, despite being the man?s brother, he thought. The tact of a bull buffalo, to be sure.
Instead of barking a reply, Ingolf tossed back half his applejack and followed it with a sip of the coffee of roasted roots. ?Ed,? he said mildly, and set the cup down with careful gentleness.?There?s something you?re missing.? ?What?? the older man said impatiently. ?Yah, yah, when I left Readstown I did have more balls than brains. But that was ten… no, more… years ago. I fought through the whole damn Sioux War as a paid soldier, and other places too, and then I went into salvage work. When I say salvage I?m not talking about a trip to Madison for some rebar or leaf springs, either. I?ve been all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back.? ?Yah, we heard, so?? ?And I?m still alive, Ed. When hundreds of poor brave dumb fucks I crossed paths with are well and truly dead. Pardon my French, Wanda.? ?I?ve heard the word, Ingolf.?
He inclined his head to her and went on to his brother:?I saw them die, and I lived. My balls are doing fine, but my brains took over the thinking job a while ago. Or I would?ve taken my last trip through an Eater?s guts.?
After a moment the Sheriff?s head moved in a slow nod, and he studied his brother for a full minute, stroking his gray-streaked beard before he spoke. ?Point. But… yah hey, it?s easier to move on sleds over snow than on the roads the rest of the year, the way they?ve gotten wrecked. You can haul a lot more weight that way with the same horsepower-that?s why we move freight in the winter and do our lumbering then. And yah, yah, da lakes freeze-or at least enough of them does. But man… supplies!? ?It?s possible,? Ingolf said.?Going the southern route in winter, there?s too much mud and wet snow, most of the time-and we?re not going to wait until spring. Plus the Cutters had a river-galley waiting for us south of the Iowa border, if we tried to go up the Ohio. There are still just under a hundred of them at least, hard men, and they?ll jump us when they can.? ?Easier to move the supplies too, it would be,? Rudi said.?And the folk, on skis. From what Ingolf tells me, men on skis can travel three or four times as fast as those on foot-faster than men on horseback, unless they had a string of remounts each and left a trail of dead horses.? ?Yah,? Ed Vogeler said.?As long as you didn?t get caught in a storm for three weeks. Or run out of fodder for the horses pulling your sleighs. You can?t exactly buy hay and oats up there, most places.? ?Some places, if you know who to ask. I?ll go part way with them,? Pete said, and the Sheriff gave him a surprised look. ?Not all the way,? the Indian went on.?Got my woman and kids here to think about. And I?m getting too old, not much good in a fight anymore. This is my home, now. But far enough to get?em started.? ?It?s your life, Pete,? his overlord said.?Hmmm… youse could get big sleds built around here, convert your wagons maybe, and enough provender…?
He looked over at Wanda. Her square middle-aged face was tight with concern for her brother-in-law.
For him at least, Rudi thought. And the rest of us too, I think, even on short acquaintance. Mother would like her, I think, even if she talks a good deal. And I notice she?s been quiet here. ?Yah,? she said, slowly and unwillingly.?We could spare a lot.? To Rudi:?We keep a three-year rotating stockpile.? ?It was two, when I left,? Ingolf said. ?Ed?s a careful man,? his sister-in-law said.?Und it?s easier since we?ve got the stuff for canning and pickling as much as we want now-lots of mason jars and good tight barrels and such. So we?re always running down the older part anyway, as we add new. And the out-farms do the same.? ?Enough, with some hunting,? Pete said.?As far as the midlakes. I don?t know much of what comes after, say, Duluth. Just that things get worse the farther east.?
Mathilda broke away from the long kiss.?Spare my healing ribs, Rudi! And my reputation.?
Rudi ground his teeth silently; she hadn?t objected to his hands for quite some time, and the taste of her was upon his lips, along with that of the Sheriff?s excellent apple brandy, of which he?d had more than she in the long discussion. It was silent now in the guest quarters, past midnight and all others asleep. Mathilda saw the look despite the dim light of the passageway and smiled a little sadly, patting him on the cheek: ?Waiting like this isn?t easy for you, is it, poor lamb? Just you wait until we?re married, and you?ll never regret the witch-girls again!? ?That I won?t!? he said, catching his breath.
Then he drew back a little, his hands on her shoulders.?Matti.. . anamchara mine… are we betrothed? We haven?t said the words.?
Her smile died.?Yes. Or at least I want us to be.? ?And myself also!?
The next kiss was long. He pulled away with difficulty, and remembered Associate custom. From one knee he spoke: ?But some things it?s better to say aloud. Mathilda… will you marry me, pagan clansman that I am?? ?Yes!?
She caught his head to her, and after a moment he felt a warm drop on it. When he rose, he touched a finger to the track of a tear. ?Why are you weeping, my heart?? ?Because I?m happy, you great gangling idiot! Because I can just be Mathilda and happy for an instant, not the Princess.?
Then she wrinkled her nose at him.?And yes, I?ve thought about it carefully-the politics as well. If you weren?t going to be High King, it would be… harder. But I think Mother will approve. And I think the Cardinal-Archbishop will give us a dispensation. That?s just bargaining, though. I want you.? ?And me likewise. Now, when? Tomorrow? Perhaps a week? We?ve good Father Ignatius here, after all-and my folk have no problem accepting a Christian marriage as valid. We can have a grand celebration when we?re home, when the war allows… but there?s no reason we should be apart the now.?
Her hands fell away from him, and the joy in her face faltered-as if the shadows that lay across them in the dim hallway had entered there. ?Rudi… we can?t get married here and now.? ?Why not?? he said, and grinned.?Besides the delightful prospects it raises, it would be better if you were my heir in law. Someone must lead our folk in Montival; and modesty aside, you?re the next best choice after me. For some of it, you?re better. I?m not immortal, and we?re in just a wee bit of danger, you might say.?
Her eyes fell.?I… I can?t marry without Mother?s permission, Rudi.? He felt a chill pass over his own happiness.?As you said, she?ll be happy enough. For one thing, she cares little for the matter of our different faiths-?
Then he cursed himself as she winced; that was not something that Mathilda Arminger liked to remember about her mother. ?-and for another, the kingcraft of the thing will delight her. I wouldn?t be surprised if she hadn?t had something of the sort in mind!?
Mathilda nodded.?She?s mentioned a dynastic marriage before. But
… I may think I?ll get her permission, but I?m not sure…? ?Matti!? He wagged a finger at her.?It?s all our lives we?ve known each other, or nearly. Do you think I can?t tell when you?re making an excuse? And the same for Cardinal Maxwell!? ?Rudi-? Her voice was half desperate.?Rudi, if I?m your wife, we?ll have to sleep together.? ?And much else!? Rudi said happily. ?I mean… it?s not really a marriage unless it?s consummated!? ? Acushla, my thought exactly!? ?You… you man!? she said, and punched him on the chest; then winced when it jarred her healing arm.?You single-minded tomcat! You-?
He took a step back and raised his hands; it wasn?t the first time a woman had said something of the same order to him, but it was a blunt surprise now. ?Matti, darlin? girl, what?s the matter?? ?What happens, you idiot, when a man and a woman are together? Babies! Why do you call your goddess the Mother, Rudi? It?s not because she spanks you!?
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Yes, there?s that geasa, he thought unhappily. They think it?s wicked to prevent conception. And it?s a strong custom. Matti wouldn?t break it.
It was also a real impediment. They were just about to start a journey through some of the deadliest wilderness in the world, and in midwinter at that. They would certainly have to fight at times. Matti was a warrior of considerable skill-no great champion, but well above average for an Associate of her age and easily as good as, say, Odard. But she couldn?t swing a sword from behind a yard of pregnant belly.
Or ride quickly, or run and hide, or…
She saw his hesitation, and followed the blow with a prodding finger.?And don?t tell me about the rhythm method. It?s good enough for home, but it doesn?t work all the time.?
To be sure not all methods of sharing pleasure lead to babies. But that would require a great deal of willpower. And that particular method is the crux of a marriage, to one of her faith; without it, there?s no true handfasting, no matter what the rites and ceremonies. It?s the thing that cannot be undone, to them. ?Do you think you?re the only one who?s tempted?? she said angrily, her voice rising.
She shrugged off his hand as she turned her face to the wall. ?Don?t tempt me, Rudi. It?s so… it?s so hard to keep saying no! I don?t want to! But I have to do what?s right.? ?It?s truly sorry I am,? Rudi said soberly.
Truly sorry, and very bewildered. And wishing you were a follower of the Old Religion, much more so than I ever have before.
She turned back to him and went on more softly:?Rudi, I can?t chance being pregnant in the wilderness. I just can?t. I?m… scared of it. And what if… Mother had a very hard time with me. They had to cut! We nearly both died, and that was with all the doctors in the Protectorate on hand, and Mother couldn?t have more children.?
He winced.?Matti, all that is as true as gold. But we?re going to be on this road a long time,? he said unhappily.?We?ve been a year and some months already, and we?re only three-quarters of the way! Matti, having the beauty of you there is going to be a torment, that it is. We?re betrothed now, not fancy-free.?
And it?s extremely awkward I would feel trying to take back the words. It?s?yes? I expected, or perhaps even?no,? but not?yes, in two years!? ?I know,? she said, and kissed him again.?It?s hard for me too. We?ll make an offering of the pain, and when we?re married, it will be all the sweeter for the memory.?
He stared at her.?Ah… Matti, I know that makes perfect sense to you, and as the Gods of my people witness, I respect it. There are many paths to the divine and they have their own rules; you can see it shining from Father Ignatius, and he?s not the only Christian I?ve met who was a holy man for all but the blind to see. But I?m not a Christian, you know, anamchara. My geasa are different. Sometimes I don?t think you realize quite how different, for all your time on the Clan?s land. And also a man and a woman are different in that way-?
This time she hit him in the pit of the stomach, where even a very strong man had no protection. The breath came out of him in an ooof; he wasn?t really winded enough to be helpless, but he did have to struggle with his half-paralyzed diaphragm for a moment. ?Rudi, I love you dearly, but sometimes you drive me crazy!? she said in a rush.?We?ll be married in Portland! When we get there! Now go away and come back when you?re… you?re civilized! Tomorrow! When you haven?t had so much to drink!?
The door closed; it almost slammed. Rudi clenched one big shapely hand into a fist and cocked it back as if he were going to punch it through the plaster-covered planks of the hallway?s wall. ?I drive you crazy, woman!? he snarled-softly.?Said the crow to the raven, what an exceeding blackness your feathers have!?
There were times when it was best to just walk away from a quarrel, even if you had just the telling word on your tongue-for example, the fact that her father had notoriously leapt on anything female that moved, and shaken most that weren?t to see if they were really shamming death, which was where he?d drawn the line. For that matter, Aunt Judy had told him the reason Sandra?s delivery of her daughter had been so hard had probably been that Norman Arminger had contracted a case of Aphrodite?s Measles from one of his numberless concubines.
Now that I can never say to her. It would be cruel. And perhaps she does know it, and it accounts for some of all this. I?m still angry enough to chew on nails, that I am!
At the end of the corridor he did kick the door; luckily it was a heavy thing of beveled oak planks. The pain in his toe made him want to punch the wall again. He stopped the motion with a slight snort of laughter at himself, and looked at the fingers of his right hand, wiggled them and sighed before making as if to kiss them. ?Not so fair and sweet as Mathilda are you,? he murmured.?Nor as dear to my heart, nor does the thought of you torment me with fair longings and warm dreams. But darlings, you?ve never said me no, have you the now??
He was still trying to curb his thoughts as he took the staircase to his own room three steps at a time, sure-footed as a cat in the darkness.
Discipline your mind, Master Hao said. Easier to do when faced with a deathmongering evil magus than close to the sweet-scented curved warm pleasantness of my Matti! he thought. And I am not a Christian. To me this makes no sense at all!
He wasn?t a sworn virgin either, and hadn?t been a virgin of any sort since that pleasant night in Dun Meillin when he was thirteen; nor had he and Mathilda ever been formally betrothed… Until recently, when it just seemed to have sort of happened without any particular day at which you could point, and now he?d gone and made it explicit.
Still, with her eyes upon him twenty-four hours a mortal day, this trip had involved more imitation of monkish chastity than he?d ever desired or practiced. When you were the Chief?s son and tall and handsome and had a way with words, he hadn?t needed to, given Mackenzie belief and custom. For that matter, according to the Clan?s way of looking at things, if she didn?t want to lie with him she had no grounds for objecting if he lay with another.
From now on it was going to be far worse, because she would object, and most mightily, and by her lights with reason. If they were to be handfasted, he couldn?t just disregard any part of her beliefs he didn?t happen to like.
I don?t know how poor Father Ignatius does it. Or doesn?t do it, so to say. With fidelity after we?re handfasted I have no problem whatsoever; Mathilda?s all the woman a man could need, and more. With years of waiting, a great many problems… do arise, and arise, and arise, to coin a phrase! And from my time in the Association lands, I know a great many Catholic ladies aren?t as stiff-necked about such matters as Mathilda, either. She wouldn?t be the darling she is if she weren?t sincere, but oh, how I could wish it were otherwise!
The guest quarters of the Sheriff?s house were in a part that was all built post-Change, of honest brick and stone and timber; there were plenty of rooms, since a wealthy landholder and leader had to be able to extend hospitality to many. All the travelers who weren?t paired had one to themselves, with empty space besides in between for their gear; his was a story up and around a ninety-degree turn that put him in a different wing. They were all grateful, good friends as they mostly were, privacy and quiet had been in short supply for most of their trip.
He stopped suddenly as he came close; there was a leak of candlelight under the door, and he certainly hadn?t left one lit when he went down to dinner-nobody played carelessly with naked flame, if they had any sense at all.
So someone is waiting for me, he thought. Now, isn?t that interesting?
Right now he?d almost welcome a fight. There was no sword at his belt, but he did have his dirk; the ten inches of double-edged killing steel slid into his hand, and he approached with a lightness that most found surprising in a man his size. Some had found it a fatal surprise, and not a floorboard creaked as he ghosted along the edge of the wall where that was least likely. He extended one hand to the knob and then paused.
Assassins didn?t usually start to sing as they lay in wait for you, not even very faint and sweet. Like a wisp of melody heard beneath the trees on a spring night that you could scarcely hear and might have imagined. It was a song he recognized too: not precisely a hymn, not quite, but a favorite of his people from their beginnings, and among the witch-folk before. ?So we?ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.?
Almost without his own will he answered, as quietly: ?For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself must rest!?
Their voices joined as he opened the door: ?For the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon;
Yet we?ll go no more a-roving,
By the light of the moon!?
The figure lying on his bed didn?t seem to be a threat; she didn?t look in a mood to fight at all, and the complete lack of clothing was only the first indication. The smile was another; it was Samantha Steward, the housekeeper. He?d thought her a handsome figure of a woman before, lush but taut, with large gray eyes, straight features and long hair so pale it looked white in the candlelight; now he swallowed abruptly to see that mane flung across the brown linen of the sheet and pillowcase.
She made a sign with her fingers; he answered it automatically. Then his own eyes went wider than they?d been already. ?And you?re of the Old Religion too?? he said. ?Yah,? she replied.?My mom was, in Madison before the Change, and I was only two when she came here at the Change. There?s some of us around here, a couple of dozen within a day?s ride. We?ve heard of the Witch-Queen of the West… and you?re her son!?
Well, and I wasn?t expecting it to be that sort of an advantage, not this far from home! he thought, dazed.
The dirk suddenly embarrassed him, and he sheathed it.?Ah… you?ve not come to discuss religion, I?d surmise, so??
Her smile grew broader.?What?s more reverent than this?? she said, extending her arms.?All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals.?
Rudi laughed over the blood pounding in his ears.?Oh, now the Powers will have their little jokes with us, lady.?
He bowed elaborately.?You are most fair, priestess of Her who blesses us with the joining of spear and cauldron, and my blood leaps at the sight of you, that it does. Nor would I decline the offer to worship Her with you lightly. But of my own will I have taken upon myself a geasa that will not allow it, so.?
She looked at him, and the smile died. His own grew rueful and he spread his hands, bowing again. ?By Raven who chose me in the nemed, I swear it; may She forsake me if I lie.? ?Hmmpf!? she said, rolling off the bed and dressing in a long shift, with movements brisk rather than languorous.
Then, when she was clothed, she shrugged. He could see her let anger go as she spoke. ?I?m sorry. That was… well, I should have checked, first. The Catholic girl, I suppose? Some of my best friends are Christians, but-? ?We?re betrothed,? Rudi said. As of five minutes ago, curse the luck! ?Oh, I am sorry!? she said, obviously embarrassed. ?No apology needed! As I said, were things otherwise… I appreciate the compliment, that I do, most sincerely.? ?Well, if we can?t worship the Goddess together that way, there?s a favor I would like.? ?Ask and you shall receive, fair one!? he said. ?You?re an Initiate, of course?? ?Of the third degree; red, white and black are the cords.? ?Good! We?re having a Sabbat, and I wondered-?
The discussion grew technical. At the last he nodded. ?That will be a fine rite. Not exactly as my folk would conduct it-? ?Nor exactly as our coven does,? Samantha said.?I like some of the things you tell me about Lady Juniper?s way.? ?But it feels right to combine them, so.? Rudi grinned.?My mother is wont to say that she?s not the Pope-ess of the Pagans, when others take her word too easily. For Gospel, so to speak!?
Samantha chuckled, and then her voice grew wistful: ?I wish I could meet her. It must be wonderful, where the Old Religion can be so… so open.? ?That it is; but it?s like the air-you have to do without for a while to see the value of the thing!?
She laughed, a long uninhibited peal, and he joined her. ?I?ll be happy to run a Moon School for your… Southsiders, they?re called? Sheriff Vogeler won?t mind, as long as we?re… discreet. He?s known about us for all my life, after all, and about mother. He?s really a gruff old bear, but he?s not a bad man. Not a busybody either, not like some I could name.? ?My thanks for that, too. It?s needful, but I have no time for it. They?re a rough tribe, untutored, but good-hearted for the most part. Yet they?re barren of things of the Otherworld to a degree I?d not have believed. And where a void exists-? ? Something will come to fill it,? she said, making a protective sign.?I?ll leave you to your sleep then.?
Rudi nodded. Precious little sleep I?ll be getting, he thought.
He showed her to the door, and bowed gracefully over her hand. ?A fond farewell-and skyclad, lady priestess, you are even fairer than one would guess from the comely sight of you clad.?
She tweaked his nose with a chuckle and blew out the candle as she turned to go. ?I don?t believe it!? Mathilda Arminger hissed to herself, her head only a handspan above the top tread of the stairs.
She?d heard the voices and the laughter, but?I don?t-I won?t-?
Her voice choked on tears as she fled for the safety of her room.
TheSwordoftheLady