The Warding of Witch World

Interlude: Es Port, Es City, Estcarp

It was a fair enough day, and the sea wind which poked intrusively into the tower lookout was fresh rather than chilling. But the Lady Loyse drew her double woolen scarf more tightly around her shoulders, even though she was well aware that the chill she felt lay within her and was not an assault from without.

She tried not to count the days she had stood here, looking out over the great harbor, past the evil black blot that was Gorm, the cursed. There were ships aplenty. It was a good summer for traders, and the Sulcars were making the best of brisk winds and stormless seas. She could count five ships at anchor now—but not the one which meant the most.

The sea she knew—the worst of it. Verlaine, where she had been born, had been one of the old menaces. They had not been pirates, those of that hold—but equally as evil, for they had thrived on wrecks, and nature aided them in the worst storms by driving ships full on the fang teeth which lay beneath the water not far offshore. Verlaine could not have been the only one of its kind. What wrecker lords ruled in the north, in Alizon, overseas in the lands unknown?

There were there pirates also. However, a nest of them had been efficiently cleaned out near Seakeep in the northernmost Dales.

The Dark was abroad and where it might manifest itself next, or in what fashion, who could say? They had some communication with the Eyrie in Arvon, but that was far from the coast and those laboring there knew nothing of the perils of the sea.

“What spell would you set upon the waters, dear heart?”

Though he wore heavy boots with his half armor, he had not made enough sound to distract her from her concentration, so she was startled as he moved up beside her, his strong arm, well muscled from axe-swinging, closing about her waist. She turned her head and looked directly into his eyes.

Koris, now Defender and War Marshal, virtual ruler of Estcarp, was no taller than she, but she had seen him deal so well in battle that no foe dared come at last to face his wide-shouldered frame.

Loyse forced a laugh. “I am like a green maid waiting for…” She hesitated and was lost, but she would not let him see tears—never that.

“You are a very great lady”—he was speaking directly against her cheek now, his breath warm—“and you have a son gone from your hearth.”

“News?” she asked that, even though she knew that if there had been and, he would have told her at once.

“The Tall Sails is in from Seakeep. Their master took barge before they came to direct anchorage. He has only rumors and some knowledge—that the bergs are unusually numerous and faring farther south this season.

“Also”—and now he had drawn a little away from her—“Vixen has asked for a meeting.” Lightness was gone from both his voice and his face. Loyse pursed her mouth as if he had offered her something sour to taste.

“Let us go, then.” She turned toward the winding stair. “Koris, you dealt so many years with those of Vixen’s kind. How did you keep your tongue ever civil? I had thought that the new gathering of witches were of a more calm and peaceful nature—until she was wished upon us for our contact.”

“Dear heart, Vixen is as nothing to some of the High Ones in the old days. They armored me well. Nor is she like her sisters now—except there may be one or two lingering on. But the strongest died or were burned out with the Turning and the new ones are more tolerant of us.”

They came down to the barge which would take them upriver to the city, and the rowers set their oars to a sharpened drumbeat which not only kept their swing of arms to a rapid pull but warned any craft ahead of them to give right of way.

Loyse did not settle back into the cushions at the stern but sat bolt upright. Could there have been news from one of the gate-seeking parties which was important enough to force Vixen to call them? Had there come some discovery from Lormt? She had a small regretful thought at how little Lormt had yet aided them. The Sulcar records uncovered there were all of a later date when the sea people had made strong contact with Estcarp and the Dales. So little as a guide—a legend! But then, legends sometimes yielded up their cores of truth. At least Estcarp and Escore were cleansed of any of the unfortunate and threatening openings into other times and places. And they had been well able to follow the southern seekers.

With Arvon… who knew unless Hilarion had once more opened his spellway with the Gryphon’s stock?

“They have only a limited season.” She spoke one of her fears aloud. “These in the south, in Arvon, need not fear an early winter.

“True.” Koris did not try to belittle her word-concealed fear. “But Captain Stymir has traded north and gone farther than any of his people for generations. He knows well what is to be feared.”

She knew that as well as he, and she was ashamed to be so on edge. Their son Simond was battle-tested. And he had Trusla by his side. No one yet knew just what powers she had—she refused to be tested by the witches—but that she possessed such was very visible to anyone also talented.

At least Vixen had not been foisted on Simond and Trusla. Frost, their selected witch, was of the new blood: very well trained and yet amiable with those outside her own small calling.

Ancient Es loomed over them and then the citadel engulfed them. Loyse, though Verlaine had been old and had much of a dark history, had never felt at ease in these halls. All was too old—seeming to reach back before people were people and other presences dwelt here.

Koris kept his office in the lower room of one tower and it was there that the most private business was conducted. They had no sooner entered than Vixen was upon them. Loyse resented bitterly—for Koris’s sake—that this witch, chosen to be their contact with her kind and Lormt, loomed well above both of them. Nor was she beanpole-thin as might have seemed in keeping with their austerity, but as broad-shouldered and hulking as a man at arms.

As usual all her face except for her eyes was impassive. Those two points of light half hidden by the puff of her cheeks were never pleasant to face. Loyse had her share of highborn pride and she had nothing to be ashamed of in her past, yet when Vixen cast one of her cutting glances in her direction she felt as if she were still back under her father’s cruel rule.

Koris had seated his lady with all the formal courtesy of the court (that, too, was a small reminder of his rule here) and had waved Vixen to a seat across the small table piled high with maps and reports.

“You have news, Lady?” He came directly to the point.

“Of a kind.” Her thick tongue swept across her lips as if she savored what she had to say. Which meant, Loyse knew, it was trouble. “Our watch sister near Korinth has sent a warning.”

“Korinth.” Koris was already reaching for a map. “Yes, the secondary new settlement of the Sulcar, north of the Alizon Border.”

Loyse wanted to smile but kept any signs of levity under strict control. Did Vixen think that she could for a moment know more of his duties than Koris?

If she was irritated by the fact that a meant barb had not gone home, the witch did not show it.

“They have given refuse to strangers,” she continued. “People not of their kind, nor Alizonderns, nor of the Old Race. These are fleeing from the north and their shaman”—she used the word with a tone of disgust—“babbles of trouble building. They dream, do these strangers, and take a nightmare born of lack of food—or too much of it—for some revelation from the Great Power.”

Koris’s attention seemed fully for the map. “If the winds continued fair, the Wave Cleaver should be at anchorage there. Stymir has kin in Korinth and so access to the latest rumors out of the Great Cold. Their wisewoman accepts these refugees as such in truth?”

Vixen gave a curt nod. Loyse thought it was plain she would like to express an opposite opinion.

“Well enough. With the storm of the Magestone’s passing, raw power doubtless passed around the world. Who knows what balance it may have upset in these lands we know nothing of?”

Loyse’s fingers tightened in a hard clasp where her hands lay on her lap.

“What is the news from Lormt?” Koris asked with the same tone in which he would have required a report from one of his menie.

“They dig and they delve, and that adept urges them on. But as yet he has no answers and he has no touch with Arvon.”

“And it is southward these refugees flee.” Koris was busy with the map again. “Of your favor, Lady, call upon this outland sister of yours and ask for all she can tell us—even to the smallest detail. It may even be necessary for her to leave her post and go to Korinth to learn all we should know.”

Now there was a shadow of expression on Vixen’s face—a none too pleasant one. “The sisters are assigned by the Council in the Place of Wisdom. Only those selected to protect these expeditions move about.”

“I do not think that the council will refuse any request which has a bearing on the safety of this world,” Koris returned. “Now—what news has come from the Lady Frost?”

“None, save that which was beamed last night. The captain comments on the unusual number of icebergs. Frost is to speak with the shaman in Korinth today.”

“Then”—Koris leaned back a little in his chair—“we should have a good reporting, so your watcher will not have to fare north from her post to give us one.”

Loyse saw how hard Vixen’s hands were gripping her jewel. There was not always a smooth joining of the generations of witches. And those chosen to go with the searchers were of the younger. Luckily Frost had impressed all of those at the choosing with her quiet strength and goodwill.

Vixen arose with a swirl of her gray robe. “What is sent you will have in good time, Lord Marshal.” Without any further adieu she strode out of the room.

“Trouble in the north.” Loyse allowed herself enough relaxation to repeat that. “My heart, when have we not faced trouble in one quarter of the world or another?” A weariness had settled on Koris.

“True. But it is easier to fight in person than to wait on this shuttling back and forth of news!”

Now he reached out and put his hand on that map, and impulsively she laid hers on it.

“He is of your blood and mine, Loyse. And neither of us ever accepted defeat, nor were we disappointed by having it forced upon us. He is also man grown. He has taken a mate of his choice—one we can respect. And the jewel selected the two of them. It is always the harder for the watcher than the doer. I send to Simon tonight—he prowls the north Border, since we still are not sure what boils in Alizon. Though it seems by rumor that that young lordling Lady Mereth tamed is very busy. If his actions can keep his countrymen within their own Borders, baying for each other’s throats, he serves us well. Loyse”—his grip on her hand was tight now—“it seems our destiny to be ever on the alert. I think that peace is not to be our portion, so let us bear that as we can. This much have I gained from war—my dear lady, without whom my life would be a barren thing.”

“As I have gained you, my dearest of lords. In the end good comes out of evil—or else of what value is life itself? I made my choice long ago,” Loyse said slowly. “Never have I regretted it. Now I shall teach myself not to regret that Simond has made his also—or else it has been made for him—as perhaps it was for me. We have been blessed, my heart.”

“As we shall be again.” Koris took her into his arms and they were one—as it had been for so long and would continue always to be.