The Wizard

Chapter 19. Toug’s Boon

Mani heard Uns’ breathing as he loosed Cloud’s cinch, and his muttered words of reassurance to Cloud, and hunkered lower in my right-hand saddlebag. The saddlebags would be taken off, Mani reminded himself, and thrown down somewhere. There would be a shock (he braced himself), but it would be merely uncomfortable, not dangerous.

The scraping near his ear was the sound of my bow being taken from the bowcase. Was Uns (the muttered words had certainly been Uns’) planning to shoot a cat?

No, because this new scrape was the bow being replaced, beyond question. That thump as the end of the bow struck the bottom of its hard leather case was unmistakable—unless it was really something else. Uns had not known what was in the case, and had taken it out to see if it was good to eat or play with. Finding it was not, he had sensibly put it back.

The thought suggested various occasions on which Mani himself had not put something back, and—Uns is lifting the saddlebags now. Here it comes!

But it did not come. The saddlebags settled into place Somewhere Else, where in place of Cloud’s slow, grazing steps there was a faint, faint swaying. Mani shut his eyes tight and counted until he lost count somewhere between twenty and the other one, then risked a peek from under the flap.

Uns had gone. I lay under a blanket by a fire. This was as good as conditions were ever apt to be.

Untying the thong that held the saddlebag closed had been the hard part of hiding in the bag. But Mani (who was not inexperienced in these matters) had labored with tooth and paw. Once inside, he had reached down to pass the thong loosely through its loop. Now it was not even necessary to pull it out. Raising the flap drew free the thong. Half in the bag and half out, he had a look around.

The bags hung on a limb near the ground. A larger limb held Cloud’s saddle and bridle. Cloud herself was rolling on her back in the manner of cats. Cloud, Mani reflected, was an unusually fine animal and might well have a dash of cat somewhere in her ancestry.

He leaped to the ground, flattened himself against it, and waited for any sign that he had been seen. All quiet, save for splashing some distance away. Fish jumping, quite possibly. Large fish, and even minnows were very good. Mani licked his lips.

More fires, and tents, on the other side of the tree. In this tent, a tree-sized woman sound asleep, her breath heavy with wine. Beside her, a snoring man with a blond mustache. Before the other, a shield tastefully ornamented with spotted cats; in it, a dozen men asleep. One stirred, and Mani left in haste. Black was surely the best of all colors. Assuredly, it was the best of all colors for cats. What, he wondered, did white cats do? How could they live, much less do their duty, when they were visible at night?

A sumptuous pavilion remained, which Mani felt certain was Idnn’s. He entered boldly, found her asleep (and the elderly maid at her feet also sleeping), and springing lightly onto her bosom offered the traditional gesture of love and respect until she woke.

“A thousand apologies, Your Majesty.” He lowered his eyes demurely. “I presume upon your affection, I know.”

“Mani! What are you doing here?”

“Reporting, Your Majesty. When you left, you charged me to observe everything, cautioning me that I’d have to give a full account of all I’d heard upon your return. I’ve heard a lot, and given an opportunity to make an interim report, I seized it. There’s much you should be apprised of.”

“How did you get here? You can’t possibly have walked this far.”

“Nor did I, Your Majesty.” Briefly, Mani considered the ethics of the situation. Ethics seldom concerned him, yet it seemed to him that this was one of those rare occasions when they had to be accorded weight. He cleared his throat. “My previous owner, the gallant knight for whom I still hold so much affection, carried me in a saddlebag, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Able?” Mani had been hoping that Idnn would pick him up and stroke him, and now she did. “Mani, Sir Able’s here—here in the mountains with us—not in Utgard. I spoke to him tonight.”

“It is nearly morning, Your Majesty.”

“All right, I spoke to him last night. Are you telling me he rode to Utgard and back in a night?”

“No, Your Majesty, for I do not know it.”

The old woman stirred, and Idnn whispered, “Go back to sleep, Gerda. It’s nothing.”

“Your Majesty not infrequently doubts my veracity,” Mani said stiffly “Your Majesty is prone to discount my sagacity as well. I am, however—”

“I don’t mean to insult you,” Idnn declared, “and I didn’t mean that you were nothing, only that Gerda should go back to sleep. But Sir Able—he simply cannot have gone to Utgard and returned with you as quick as that.”

“Doubtless Your Majesty is correct.” Mani’s tone was no longer unbending. “Nor did I say he had, only that I rode in his saddlebag. As I did, Your Majesty. So riding, I arrived not long ago, and since my arrival have been seeking you. Famished and exhausted from a trip you yourself call lengthy, but seeking you and not my own comfort.”

“There isn’t a lot of food here, but I’ll see that you have your choice of whatever we have.”

“In that case, I may be able to provide Your Majesty with a quail or a partridge, and I would account it an honor for Your Majesty to accept any such gift I may supply. But I should warn Your Majesty that Sir Able was unaware of my presence in his bag. It might be better not to speak of it.”

Idnn had not been listening. “How is my husband?”

“I am no physician—”

“But a shrewd judge of every matter brought before you.” Having smoothed Mani’s head sufficiently, Idnn tickled his chin. “How is he?”

“Your concern for him does you credit, Your Majesty. I am concerned myself. He has treated me with great civility, on the whole.”

Idnn sighed. “I don’t love him, Mani. I can’t. But I’m his wife. To be noble is to do one’s duty—”

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

“And to be royal is to do more. Knights serve their lord, and lords their king. But the king serves his people and his crown, or he is but a tyrant.”

“A queen, Your Majesty—”

“Is a woman, and a woman, having half the strength of a man, must bear twice the burden. How is he?”

“Weak, Your Majesty, but stronger than he was when you left him. He has lost a great deal of blood.”

“And endured a lot of pain. I know. Is he eating?”

“Soup, I think, Your Majesty. Broth.”

“Does he speak of me?”

“With the greatest affection, Your Majesty. My former master explained to him that you had sent him to His Majesty, and His Majesty praised you to the skies, if I may put it thus picturesquely.”

“He’s awake then, and speaking.”

“Happily so, Your Majesty.” Mani coughed delicately. “He spoke of your wisdom, Your Majesty. Not of your wisdom exclusively, of course, for he praised your beauty as well. But he spoke glowingly of it. He—Here I can’t help but be indelicate, Your Majesty yet I think the matter important.”

Idnn nodded encouragement, her nod just visible by the gray light filtering through the doorway.

“He compared your insight to that of his first minister, Lord Thiazi, Your Majesty.” Mani purred. “He judged yours to be superior.”

“I must thank His Majesty as soon as possible, Mani. He has paid me a great compliment.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. He likewise compared your acumen to your noble father’s, again judging in your favor. That, Your Majesty, has a certain bearing upon my errand.”

Idnn’s hands left Mani. “I hope you’re not about to tell me something to my father’s discredit.”

“Your Majesty is the best judge. Your noble father is eager that Sir Able enter your royal husband’s service.”

“I know it.”

“A most impressive prophecy having assured him that your throne shall stand secure if Sir Able is your royal husband’s vassal. Your husband wishes the same, for the same reason.”

“I know all that,” Idnn said brusquely. “Come to the point, Mani.”

He made her a small, seated bow. “I am making every effort to do so, Your Majesty. I considered my preliminaries necessary. Doubtless you are also aware that your noble father designs the death of Sir Svon’s squire.”

At these words Uns, who had been listening outside the pavilion for the past minute or two, edged a little closer.

Svon woke Toug, shaking his shoulder. “I wish I could let you sleep, but Lord Beel wants to talk to us together.”

Etela sat up. “And me. I’m going with.”

“You need a bath,” Svon told her.

“It’s just charcoal from our shop.” Etela tried to scrape her arm with a forefinger. “Smoke ‘n stuff.”

“You really do need a bath,” Toug confirmed. “Clean clothes, too. My sister...”

“Left with Sir Able,” Svon said brusquely.

Mute, Toug nodded.

“I wish we had her back. I wish we had Sir Able back, too. He won’t return until he brings the duke, so he said.”

“And my sister won’t return at all.” Toug got out of bed, found Sword Breaker, and looked around. “Where’s Mani?”

“If you don’t know, I certainly don’t.”

Etela said, “Put on more wood,” and Toug did.

“You’d better be sparing,” Svon told him. “There’s only so much, unless we can go out and get more.”

“Unless?” Toug looked around at him.

“I think something like that’s what His Lordship wants to talk about. We won’t know until we hear him, and we won’t hear him until you’re dressed.”

Nodding, Toug turned to Etela. “My sister’s gone, but Baki’s still around, or I think she is. I know Pouk is, and he knows all the women. Find someone and tell them I said to give you a bath and see that you wash your clothes.”

“I want—”

“Breakfast. I know. Say I said to feed you, too.”

“To go with.”

Toug took a deep breath. “When you’re clean and wearing a clean dress, and you’ve had breakfast, you can come with me anyplace I go.”

He and Svon left. As they climbed down the oversized stair, Svon said, “You’re not really going to take her, are you? Any foray outside the castle will be dangerous.”

Toug shrugged. “We may not be going anywhere, and if we are, we’ll be gone...”

A heavy tread on the steps above interrupted. Both stopped and moved to one side.

“Gud mornin’. Wud you want me to carry you?”

Svon smiled. “Good morning, Schildstarr. I know your offer is kindly meant, but these steps don’t really pose much of a problem for my squire and me.”

“As you will. I’m for the lordlin’. An’ you?”

“If you mean Lord Beel, the same.”

“Stir stump, then. I’ll not come for you.” Schildstarr paused, then chuckled. “You sma’ folk set us to work here. In our north country, we dinna fetch nor carry.”

Still laughing, he preceded them, and they followed him as quickly as they could.

“Here’s our dilemma,” Thiazi told Svon and Toug. “As you just heard, we’re sending Schildstarr and his men to buy the forge and tools, and to collect more of His Majesty’s loyal subjects if they can. Lord Beel,” he nodded toward him, “fears we cannot trust him. Perhaps I should not tell you that, since it may influence your own thinking. But I have no doubt you knew it before.”

Svon nodded.

Beel said, “You’re entitled to your own opinions, both of you, and I’d like to have them. Can we, Sir Svon?”

“I would not, Your Lordship. No more than we must.”

Beel nodded. “Squire Toug?”

“I don’t think he’d go against the king,” Toug said slowly. “Only we’re not the king.”

“We act for him,” Thiazi declared.

“But Schildstarr isn’t sure we’re honest about it. Or that’s how it seems to me, My Lord.”

“There you have it.” Beel laid a leather bag on the table. “That’s gold, a lot of it. I want you two—alone—to go into the town with it. Take no men-at-arms, and no archers. Just the two of you. Will you do it?”

Svon said, “Certainly, Your Lordship.”

“Squire?”

Toug took a deep breath. “If Sir Svon goes, I’ll go.”

“Good. We’ve been hiding in here. You may think that’s too harsh a word, but it’s the truth. Hiding, and hoping His Majesty would recover and save us. And then Her Majesty, my daughter...” Beel paused, rubbing his forehead. “She left—rode to fetch Sir Able. That made it worse, for me anyway.”

“To tell you the truth,” Svon said, “I’ve been hoping for something like this.”

Thiazi cleared his throat. That throat looked as long as Toug’s forearm, and the clearing of it was like the noise of barrels rolled on cobblestones. “We can’t hide, as Lord Beel calls it, much longer. There isn’t enough food. We’ve told Schildstarr to tell everyone he meets that His Majesty is recovering.”

Beel muttered, “They heard that.”

“Of course they did. I repeat it to emphasize it. We also told him to buy food, if he can.”

Svon nodded. So did Toug.

“Now I tell you the same things. If you speak to any of our sons of Angr, tell them His Majesty will be well soon. If you speak to slaves, as seems more likely, the same.”

“We will.” Svon nodded.

Beel added, “Buy food, if you can. Wagon loads of it. If Schildstarr brings more Angrborn we’ll need tons of it. And in fact we need tons of it already, for Thrym and his men and for ourselves. To say nothing of the slaves.”

“We’ll get what we can,” Svon said stoutly.

Toug added, “I think Schildstarr will, too. It’s food for him and his men, a lot of it.”

Beel nodded. “So far we’ve only asked you to do some of the things Schildstarr will be doing. But there’s much more. No doubt you guessed.”

Svon nodded.

“First, we need to test the waters. If we sent Sir Garvaon and his men-at-arms with you, the Angrborn would feel threatened. I have no doubt they would attack you.”

“I agree,” Thiazi declared.

“But one knight and one squire—don’t take your lance, by the way. I want you to leave that here.”

“I will, Your Lordship.”

“Are clearly no threat. They’ve had ample time to grow used to the idea that there are humans in Utgard, friends of their king who are neither slaves nor foes. If I’m right, they should let you alone. I think you’ll find I am.”

Thiazi favored Svon with a cruel smile. “If Lord Beel’s misjudged, you’ll find yourself in a fight that will make you famous even if you lose. As you will. Will you still go?”

“Certainly, My Lord.”

Beel spoke to Thiazi. “I told you.”

“I know you did. I didn’t believe you.” He shrugged.

Svon rose, sliding from the seat of his chair to the floor. “Is that all, Your Lordship?”

“You’re anxious to be away.”

“Yes, Your Lordship. I am.”

“There is one more item.” Beel looked from Svon to Toug and back again. “Lord Thiazi tells me that under the laws of Jotunland the king can commandeer the slaves of his subjects if he has need of them. The slaves of this smith—Logi?”

Toug said, “Yes, Your Lordship.”

“Assisted him in making the tools Toug saw. You are to sequester them, if you can, in the king’s name, and bring them here.”

Thiazi added, “Or kill them if you cannot.”

Toug started to speak, then closed his mouth and waited for Svon; but all Svon said was “I will, My Lord.”

Toug cleared his throat. “I ask a boon, My Lord.”

Thiazi smiled as before. “To which you think yourself entitled, I’m sure.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. You just gave me one, I know. You gave me my sister. That was really very nice of you, and I haven’t forgotten.”

“Yet you believe that you’re owed another.”

Beel said, “I will grant it myself, Squire, if I can.”

“You can’t, Your Lordship. Or anyhow I don’t think so.”

Thiazi leaned forward, both huge hands on the polished black wood of the huge table. “This is becoming interesting. Tell me why you deserve this boon, and I may grant it.”

Toug filled his lungs. “When you gave me my sister, My Lord—and I’ll never forget it—it was for going outside alone at night and finding Logi’s forge, and killing him. Now I’m going out again, only in daylight. We’ll probably be killed. Everybody here knows that.”

Svon nodded and said, “I must speak to you privately.”

“So I’d like the reward first, and because it may make it easier for me to do what you want us to do. I mean, get Logi’s slaves, and bring them here.”

“Go on,” Thiazi told him.

“What I want is for you to promise that if we do, you’ll set them free. All of them who come here and help the king. If you promise, we can tell them that you did and they’ll do everything they can to help, and that may do it.”

“Bravo,” Beel muttered; and then, more loudly, “Bravo!”

“It’s not a bad thought, Squire.” Thiazi relaxed, with an amused smile at Beel. “I’d be disposed to grant it, if I could. Unfortunately, our law forbids the freeing of slaves for any reason.”

“You tried,” Svon whispered to Toug.

“However, I can offer another. One you may like as well or better. The slaves you bring here will be divided between Sir Svon and yourself. Sir Svon will have first choice, you second, Sir Svon third, and so on. Thus you shall each receive the same if the total is even, and Sir Svon one more if the total is odd.”

“That won’t make them help us,” Toug muttered. “They don’t want to belong to us.”

“Oh, but it will. In time you and Sir Svon will return to Celidon, and they’ll be free.” Thiazi paused, and the cruel smile returned, “Unless, of course, you choose to sell them before you go. But you need not tell them that.”

I sat up; and seeing Uns crouched by the fire to spread my shirt to the warmth of the flames, I said, “I’ve had the strangest dream.”

“I got sumpin’ I gotta tell ya, sar.”

“In a moment, Uns. I want to tell somebody about this before I forget. We never dreamed in Skai. Did I tell you?”

Uns shook his head.

“We never did,and it never seemed odd to us that we didn’t. At least, it never seemed odd to me.” I found Parka’s bowstring among my blankets and showed it to Uns. “I was listening to this before I slept. That might have had something to do with it.”

“Wid not dreamin’ in Skai, sar?”

“With my dream. I don’t know why I didn’t dream there. Perhaps the others did, though I never heard anybody mention it. The Valkyrie’s kiss brings forgetfulness so deep that I never thought of Disiri. It seems impossible, but I didn’t.”

“Yessar.”

“I was conscious of something wrong, you understand.” I fell silent, lost in thought. “Exactly as I was conscious of something wrong in my dream. Years passed before I could put a name to it—before I remembered her face. That was when I went to the Valfather.”

“Jist like me comin’ ter ya, sar.”

“My Valkyrie was Alvit, Uns. She’d been a princess and died a virgin, facing death with dauntless courage. I should have held her dearer than Disiri. I wanted to but couldn’t.”

“Yessar. Like ter see ‘un someday, sar.”

“Maybe you will. It isn’t at all likely, but it’s not impossible. What was I talking about?”

“‘Bout ya bowstring, sar, ‘n ya dream.”

“You’re right.” I lay down again and laid the bowstring on my chest. “My bowstring is spun of severed lives, Uns.”

“Fer real, sar?”

“Yes. Of lives that are ended, and I think lives cut short. It may be only because most lives are.”

“Guess so, sar.”

“So do I, Uns. It’s all either of us can do. Of lives cut short, whether for that reason or another. Maybe only because a woman cut them with her teeth for me. She may have ended the lives by that act. I can’t remember her name.”

“Don’t matter, sar.”

“She will remind me of it eventually, I feel sure. What I was going to say, Uns, was that whenever I let an arrow fly from this string, I hear them in its singing—hear their voices as they spoke in life. When I draw Eterne, all the knights who have held her unworthily appear.”

“Yessar. I seen ’em, sar.”

“Whether to affright my foes or encourage me, I can’t say. Sometimes they fight at my side. Sometimes—judging, I suppose, that I have no need of their aid—they don’t. Disiri saw to it that I gained Eterne. That I would have a chance to gain her, at least.”

“Yessar.” Uns had returned to his laundry, turning my drawers where they hung upon a bush, and feeding sticks and winter grass to the fire that dried them.

“She wanted me to win Eterne because she loves me.”

“Yessar.”

I sat up again, running my fingers along Parka’s string. “Have you heard this, Uns? Have you, Gylf?”

Both nodded, Gylf more circumspectly.

“You have?”

Uns nodded again. “Kin I tell my news now, sar? Won’t take mor’n a minute.”

“And you’ll bust unless you do. I understand. Okay, I’ll listen. But you must answer a question afterward, or try to. Is the king dead? King Gilling?”

“Nosar. Gettin’ better’s wot he sez.”

“King Gilling said that he was getting better?”

“Nosar. I mean, most like he done, sar, on’y ‘twarn’t him I heered. ‘Twar that cat, sar. Ya cat, on’y if’n he’s yorn, why ain’t he here ter tell ya hisself ?”

“He is,” Mani announced with a fine flare for the dramatic. With head and tail high, he emerged from the shadows and bowed. “Your servant, most noble of knights.”

“My friend, rather.” Ignoring a low growl from Gylf, I opened my arms.

Mani sprang into my lap. “Your yokel spied upon me, Sir Able, and I have no doubt you would cut his throat for it if I asked. Certainly my royal master would hang him in chains, did I so much as raise my paw.” Mani raised it, claws out, by way of illustration. “Would you prefer I forgive him?”

“Greatly,” I told him.

“In that case I do.” Mani’s claws vanished. “You are forgiven, fellow.”

“Tanks, sar!” Uns pulled his forelock.

I said, “A talking cat does not astound you, Uns?”

“Hit’s a magic cat, I reckon.”

“And you’ve seen a magic sword. Perhaps other things.”

“That’s so, sar, ‘n hit come ter tell da queen lady I been workin’ fer ‘bout how her pa’s tryin’ ter git Toug kilt, sar. ‘N I likes Toug ‘n hope ya kin make him stop.”

“I addressed Her Majesty before yourself because you had given me to her,” Mani explained. “I felt you’d approve for that reason. She has influence with her father, and it would better for him to spare Toug voluntarily. If he’s prevented by force—well, dear owner, he’s King Arnthor’s ambassador. There’s no getting around that.”

I rubbed my jaw. “Is he trying to kill Toug? Or have him killed?”

Mani, who had decided his paw needed smoothing, smoothed it. “He is not. Your opinion of my judgment must be high, I know. We have known each other for some while.”

“It is.”

“In which case you will give weight to my opinion, which is that Lord Beel won’t sully his honor with murder, whether by his own hand or another’s. He thrusts Toug into positions of danger. The stratagem is not unknown.”

“Why?” I lay down once more.

“He wishes you in his son-in-law’s service because he believes he will keep the crown with you to guard it.”

Mani waited for me to speak, but I did not.

“He believes this because my mistress, by which I mean by first mistress, has told him so. To be precise, because she told that long fellow Thiazi. You recall him, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I do. Why did she say it?”

“She no longer confides in me as she used to,” Mani said pensively. “Not that we are estranged. When one is dead...”

“I understand.”

Mani condescended to address Uns. “I myself have been dead on several occasions. We are permitted nine demises, of which the ninth is permanent. Doubtless you know.”

“Nosar, I dint. On’y I do now, Master Cat.”

“You may refer to me as Master Mani, fellow. Though I am a cat, cat is not my name.” Master Mani redirected his attention to me. “You asked why she prophesied as she did. May I hazard a conjecture?”

“Because it’s true?”

“Certainly not. I would guess she feared that my master—by which term I designate His Royal Majesty King Gilling of Jotunland, to whom my royal mistress Queen Idnn, his wife, has given me—might do you violence otherwise. Thanks to her foresight, he is instead solicitous of your life.”

“More so than I.” I shut my eyes. “You can hear my bowstring, can’t you, Mani? Even now?”

For once Mani was silent.

“I can, there’s one voice that cries out to me again and again. After I got this bowstring, I tried not to hear it. To tell the truth, I tried not to hear any of them. Now I have been listening, for that one especially. I hear it now, and I can make out a few words, and sobbing.”

“Mebbe that queen ya like, sar? Could she be, like, passed across?”

“Disiri? No. Disiri is not dead.”

For a half minute or more there was silence save for the crackling of the fire Uns fed and stirred; at last Mani said, “There is a room in Utgard, the Room of Lost Love.”

I opened my eyes and sat up. “Have you been in there?”

Mani shook his head. “I’ve merely seen the door.”

“You know where it is?”

“Lord Thiazi has a study. Very capacious, and nicely situated, in which he pursues the art. Other rooms open off it. I have been through all the doors but one, and that one is kept locked. I have climbed the ivy outside, but that room has no window.”

“You’d like to get in.”

“Perhaps.” Mani’s emerald eyes, which had been half shut, opened wide. “Certainly I’d like to look inside.”

“Have you lost love, Mani?”

He sprang from my lap and vanished in the night.

“What about you, Uns?”

“Don’ know a’ none, sar, on’y I likes Squire Toug.”

“So do I.” I stretched. “I don’t want him killed or maimed any more than you do.”

“Then you’ll stop it, sar? Tomorrer, like?”

“No. Mani told Her Majesty of Jotunland, while you eavesdropped. Is that right?”

“I never calt it right, sar.”

“Naturally not. But you did. She may stop it. Or not. Surely she’ll try. As for me...” I yawned. “Toug wants to be a knight.” The song of the string had begun, and although Gylf laid a gentle paw upon my hand, I said no more.

Svon motioned to Toug, who shut Thiazi’s door behind them. The vast hallway, always dark, seemed darker than ever; bats chittered high overhead. “That’s a bad man,” Toug said under his breath.

“That isn’t a real man at all,” Svon told him. “If you haven’t learned it yet, learn it now.”

“I know.”

“Then act like it and speak like it. Their whole race is evil, though some are better than others. The worst are monsters far worse than beasts.”

“Logi had three arms,” Toug said pensively. “I haven’t told anybody about it, but he did.”

“There was once a knight named Sir Ravd,” Svon said. He had begun to walk so fast that Toug had to trot to keep up. “Sir Ravd was sent to suppress outlaws in the northern forest from which you hail, the forest south of the mountains.”

“I remember,” Toug said.

“He was killed. I think Duke Marder thought the outlaws—the free companies, as they called themselves—would not attack a great and famous knight, though he had no comrade save his squire. If that’s what Duke Marder thought, Duke Marder was wrong.”

“I won’t tell anybody you said that,” Toug declared.

“I would say it to his face. I already have.”

Svon took a dozen strides before he spoke again. “Sir Ravd died. His squire lived, though he had been left for dead. He returned to Sheerwall, eager to tell everyone how his master had charged foes so numerous they could not be counted, how resolutely and how skillfully his master had fought, sending scores to the wolves. How he, Sir Ravd’s squire, alone and wounded, had buried Sir Ravd by moonlight, digging the grave with a broken ax, and heaping it with the weapons of the slain.”

Not knowing what else to say, Toug said, “Yes, sir.” He glanced behind him, for he felt unseen eyes on his back.

“They heard him in Sheerwall,” Svon continued, “and they slandered him. Not to his face—they were not as brave as the outlaws, who had faced Sir Ravd and his squire too, and never flinched. But he found, this squire, that he had an enemy no sword could touch, rumors that dogged his steps.”

Abruptly, Svon stopped and turned to face Toug. “I have tried to teach you in the short time we have been together.”

“Yes, Sir Svon. I know you have, and I’ve learned a lot. From you and from Sir Able, too.”

“This is my most important lesson. It took me years to learn it, but I throw it to you like a crust.”

“Yes, Sir Svon,” Toug repeated.

“We go into danger. You fought a Frost Giant and won. We may be fighting a score before noon. When we do, you may live and I may die.”

“I hope not, Sir Svon.”

“I’ve no wish to die. None at all. If we fight, I hope for victory. I’ll do all I can to see that we’re victorious. You have that mace.”

“Yes, Sir Svon. Sword Breaker.” Toug held her up.

“Where is the dagger you took from the Angrborn smith? You showed it to me—a dagger as big as a war sword. Have you still got it?”

“It’s back in my room unless somebody took it.”

“Bring that too. Bring them both.”

“I will, Sir Svon.”

“If I die and you live, Toug, you’ll have to face a foe more terrible than the Angrborn, and more subtle. Whispers, sly smiles, sidelong looks. Do you understand me?”

“I think so, Sir Svon.”

“You’ll have to fight them, and you fight them by finding a battle to die in, and not dying. By doing that over and over, Toug.”

“Yes, Sir Svon.”

“You’re a peasant boy? As Sir Able was?”

“We’re not as bad as you think, Sir Svon.”

“I don’t think it.” Svon sighed, and it came to Toug that Svon’s sigh was the loneliest sound he had ever heard, a sigh like a ghost’s, a sound that would haunt the cavernous halls of Utgard longer than the bats. “I was brought up by my father’s servants, Toug. Mostly Nolaa and her husband. They were proud of me, and taught me to be proud of myself. It helped, and for years it was the only help I had. Has anyone been proud of you? Besides me?”

Toug gulped. “I wouldn’t have been able to kill Logi if it hadn’t been for Org, Sir Svon. He was fighting him first to protect us, and he did more than I did. Only you said I wasn’t supposed to tell about him.”

Svon smiled; it was not a warm smile, but it made him handsome. “I’m proud of you just the same. More proud, because you told the truth when the temptation to lie must have been great. I’ve lied often and know that temptation. Who besides me?”

“My sister, Sir Svon. Ulfa, when she found out I was a squire, and might be a knight someday.”

“That’s good, and Ulfa and I may be enough. Sir Ravd was never proud of me, and I was never as proud of him as I should have been. Here I feel I should order you to remember him, but you never knew him.”

“I saw him, Sir Svon, when he came to our village and talked to people.”

“Then remember that, and remember what I’ve told you about him.”

They separated; but Toug, instead of going to the turret he shared with Mani and Etela, stood and watched Svon’s back as Svon strode away down that lofty hall, a hall empty of all beauty and comfort, ill-lit by such daylight as found its way through the high windows on one side.

And it seemed to Toug that at its termination he saw a knight with a golden lion rampant on his helm and a golden lion on his shield—and that Svon did not see him, though Svon was so much nearer. Toug turned away muttering, “This whole keep’s haunted.”

Later, as he was starting up one of the endless flights of stairs, he said, “Well, I hope we don’t have to fight at all. That we just get the slaves, and that’s all there is.”

Still later he added, “I wish Mani was here.”