A Child of Great Promise: An Altearth Tale

by Ellis L. Knox

  “No,” was all he said.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t go back.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does ‘ah’ mean?”

  “There is a difference between a thing you cannot do, and a thing you do not wish to do.”

  “You’re very profound.”

  “The difference is important.” Jehan rubbed at the leather. “I spent years in the companies because I could not walk away from them.”

  “You’re a mercenary.”

  “I was.”

  “How did you leave?”

  “I decided I was wrong. I had been staying not because I could not leave but because I would not.”

  “You just decided?”

  “I did.”

  “That’s very nice for you. But you’re a man. You have money, and you have your quest.”

  “You are a woman and you have a quest. Money can be found.”

  Talysse glared at him, but only because she could not think of a reply.

  “The question is,” Jehan continued, “what do you want?”

  “I want to find my parents.” It was true, but the answer felt less than sufficient.

  “How will you do this?”

  “I will see the king.”

  “He is not here. What will you do?”

  “I already said I will wait. Aren’t you listening?”

  “The king will not see you. Aren’t you listening?”

  “I hate you!”

  “That is neither here nor there. What will you do?”

  The question hung in the air like a hawk. She felt very much like a mouse.

  “I don’t know,” Talysse said in a whisper.

  “Will you go home?”

  “I can’t,” she said fiercely.

  Jehan smiled.

  “All right. I will not, then. You are very irritating, do you know that?”

  “I have heard this. So, you will not go to Saldemer, you will not go to the wizard Saveric. That leaves your patron, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jehan considered this. “You will have to find out. Learn where he is. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing.” Despair made her reply weak.

  “You know he is a wizard.”

  “Yes. A Syndic.”

  “So, that is something more than nothing. I have heard of these Syndics, but where are they? Are they court magicians? Do they have a chapterhouse? A tower? A magic castle?”

  Detta snorted, but Talysse only frowned.

  “I should know this. I should have asked.”

  “But you did not. That is done, as much in the past as Saldemer. Let us talk of what is yet to be done.”

  “I’m trying to, but—”

  “No. Stick to the trying part.”

  “Remigius is somewhere.” It was so little, she felt ridiculous.

  “That is a start,” Jehan said with no hint of sarcasm.

  She took it as encouragement.

  “I don’t think he’s in Arles,” she said tentatively, “because I believe he would have found me, somehow.”

  “That seems possible.”

  “I know he is not at Saldemer.”

  “Progress.”

  “That’s all I have.”

  “Where would you look to find out more about the Syndicat?”

  “I don’t know. Gods but I am tired of saying that! I don’t know anything at all. I’m just going to stay. I can ask these questions better in Arles than elsewhere.”

  Jehan nodded, but said nothing.

  “What?”

  “I had hoped to travel further with the karwan. I like Brasc.”

  “Why can’t you? And who is Brasc?”

  “I cannot travel with the karwan because I am staying with you.”

  “With me? Why?”

  “Mademoiselle Talysse, I have been lost since leaving the companies. I was lost when I met you.”

  She shifted uneasily. He was leading up to something. She waited.

  They sat in silence for so long, Talysse thought she might burst out weeping, or else laughing, just to break it. Then she noticed something very odd, a thing she was certain she had not seen before.

  The elf was smiling.

  It was a languid thing, appearing first just at the corners of his mouth. The thin lips slowly formed a small arc, but reaching up to his eyes, which sparkled more with satisfaction than with merriment. Talysse stared at him, but he neither spoke nor moved. He just sat there, smiling, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “What’s wrong, Lyssie?” Detta asked.

  “Look at him. What’s he doing?” Talysse shifted in her seat.

  “He’s just smiling, I think.”

  “Well, I wish he wouldn’t. It’s unnatural.”

  “Are you happy about something, chevalier?” Detta asked.

  “I am, madame,” he said, the smile somehow not moving.

  “You want to explain, or are you just going to grin like a puppet?” Talysse felt like she might break out in itching.

  “We might be pleased for him, Lyssie,” Detta chided. “He has been a hero today, after all.”

  “I smile about something else,” Jehan said, his attention finally shifting to take them both in. “Or, rather, something consequent upon it.”

  Talysse tried to puzzle out that remark, but decided simply to be irritated by it. Why couldn’t he talk like regular people?

  “I have found my quest.”

  “Truly? That is a fine thing,” Detta said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Are you going to tell us, or is it a guessing game?” Talysse knew she had no reason to be rude, which also irritated her.

  “You are,” he said, and Talysse’s internal monologue about annoying elves came to an abrupt stop.

  “I?”

  “You are my geas.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s an elvish word, or one we’ve borrowed. It means a burden.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.”

  “You did not let me finish. Geas also means a goal or purpose, or a challenge.”

  “Burden, goal, challenge.”

  “All those and more. It is what is laid upon an elf chevalier, and is what sets us apart from any other sort of chevalier.”

  “And I’m your geas?”

  “Yes. It is quite extraordinary.”

  “What is?”

  But he was not speaking to her. “I recover arms and honor, and now? Is it a sign? Can this be? Surely it must, can only be. The first, on the first day.”

  “If you’re going to talk to me, could you at least make sense?”

  “Pardon, mademoiselle. I am an elf chevalier.”

  “I know. A confused one, I must say.” She was the one confused, though.

  “Formerly,” Jehan said. “Do you know of the quest of a chevalier?”

  “They go about on quests in the stories.”

  “One quest, but twelve labors. Once the chevalier has performed twelve labors, he may serve as a Paladin at the Imperial Court.”

  “So?” Talysse was sweating, thirsty, and thoroughly done with elvish circumlocutions.

  “You are my geas. I shall help you find your parents.” The smile now moved over his entire face.

  Talysse’s eyes went wide. When she realized her mouth was open too, she shut it with a snap.

  Jehan stood up. He seemed taller.

  “Is anyone else in this room hungry?”

  “I am,” Detta said at once. Then she covered her mouth, surprised at her own boldness.

  “The food here is not excellent, but it is plentiful. It’s time I celebrated something.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Victory

  “Now I shall begin to reward you,” Jehan said, before they en
tered the tavern. “All you can eat tonight. Tomorrow I shall sell the ransom armor and you shall be well paid.” He was so obviously cheerful, Talysse could not help but smile. He nodded at the wide tavern door.

  “It will be noisy in there, raucous, but you need not worry. They are only honest warriors; there is no danger here.”

  Talysse thought she would be the better judge of danger—everywhere she went, men told her she was safe. They had yet to be correct.

  “Why do you bring your quarterstaff?” She nodded at the weapon strapped to his back.

  “Oh, that,” he said.

  “Did you just blush?” Talysse suppressed a smile, but Detta giggled.

  “Of course not,” Jehan rumbled, but he averted his face. “There is a certain interest… talk… my victory…” He looked at her fiercely. “I won the mêlée with only this weapon.”

  “You’re going to show off,” Talysse said, unable to keep the smile away.

  Jehan growled an inarticulate reply.

  “No, it’s fine,” Talysse said. “You deserve to show off. It was a grand feat of arms.” She meant it sincerely.

  “The other fighters will wish to see the weapon as well as the man who wielded it,” Detta said.

  “Hmph,” Jehan said. “Just so. Enough. Let’s go in.”

  Talysse and Detta followed, exchanging quick smiles.

  The leftward door opened onto stairs that led down—eight steps and through a wide, low-beamed portal beyond which lay a sea of sounds and smells. The air sagged under layers of scents: roasting meat, sweating men, applewood fires, tendrils of oregano and lavender and tarragon. Her appetite grumbled like a bear, for she had not eaten since morning.

  She stepped through the opening with Detta clutching her belt. Dozens of voices surged over her, most deeply male, the cadences of Occitan washing up next to Ligurian and Catalan and Gallic. Here and there ranged the higher tones of women. One was singing, the clear quaver of an elf.

  Jehan plunged directly into the crowd, pushing forward like a barge heading up river. He maneuvered them to a table that emptied even as they approached, the men grandly and in good humor yielding it “to the famous chevalier!”

  “You two stay here,” he commanded. “I’m off to find food.”

  Only then did the swirl of the place resolve into comprehensible images. She and Detta sat at a table against the outer wall, not so very far from the entrance—a table much like the one last night, though this inn was more crowded and raucous. The mood was celebratory rather than sullen. Every inch of the place held long, heavy tables with matching benches running their length, and every bench was crammed with people, mostly elves. From their manner and bearing, Talysse guessed many had fought in the arena, or had been gonfalonieri. Like myself, she added, wondering at this. Already her life seemed utterly transformed.

  Well across the room stretched a counter that functioned as both serving bar and barrier against the crowd. Humans bustled on the far side, busy with food and drink, and an orange-yellow glow spoke of kitchen and cook-fires beyond. Once in a while, a human woman rounded one end, burdened with trays.

  The place was more chaotic than the arena had been for the mêlée. Yet, within a mere minute, Jehan emerged from the throng.

  “They will bring you food, all you can eat.”

  “We can eat quite a lot,” Talysse said.

  “Good. Take your time. I have several friends here to greet. You stay put, yes?”

  Talysse nodded and Jehan rushed off.

  “The chevalier is actually cheerful,” Detta said.

  “I know,” Talysse said. “It seems strange, doesn’t it?”

  Detta agreed, and the two spent several minutes discussing whether all elves were usually morose, or only elf chevaliers, or only Jehan. They had to sit side-by-side to hear each other over the din of the crowd. There was a great deal of laughter and singing, all of it loud. Then the food arrived, and neither spoke much for quite a long time.

  They ate soup and bread, a plate of dried meats, hot vegetables in a cream sauce, and still the food kept coming, along with a light red wine that went down like water. Jehan was easy to see across the big room, for he remained standing, talking and laughing with a group of men. He waved at her once and she waved back.

  The two women were savoring small cakes sweetened with honey when a movement caught Talysse’s attention. The movement slipped through the crowd like a shadow blown by the wind, then Saveric eased onto the bench across the table. Talysse’s throat closed; she could not swallow. She felt her eyes go huge.

  “Be assured,” Saveric said, speaking fast and low, “I mean you no harm. I shall exercise no violence against you, I promise. Look.” He placed his hands on the table, palms up. His flesh was sallow and soft. “I have not my staff. Stay and hear me; do not rush away.”

  Talysse’s feet were lead, her blood ice, and her brain a useless rock. She sat unmoving.

  “I take your silence for assent,” the wizard said. He leaned back. His hands turned palms down.

  “First, I must apologize for my men. They should not have behaved like that.”

  “You chased us,” Detta said, her voice small but clear.

  Saveric grimaced. “Indeed. The blame is mine; I accept it.” He placed one hand over his chest. “At our interview I was… inept.”

  “You grabbed my arm,” Talysse said, having found her voice at last.

  “I did.” Saveric hung his head briefly. “To my regret. That was foolish. I wished to urge you but I only frightened you, a mere girl all alone.”

  Mere girl? Talysse straightened to make a reply, but the wizard continued, not quite looking at her.

  “You were afraid, so you fled. What could be more natural? And somehow you escaped all the way to this place.” He could not quite hide his mystification at this. “But you are an innocent, unfamiliar with the world, which is a violent and dangerous place. So I sent my men to search for you. I feared you had leapt to your death in despair.” He looked at her now. “How did you climb down from that tower?”

  “I didn’t climb. I flew.”

  Saveric rocked back. He put his fingertips together. “So it is true. Hm, hm.”

  Talysse tried to wish the words back. Anything she told him about herself was like ground yielded. The inn was beginning to feel like a trap. She stole a glance, but the crowd blocked her view. She could not see Jehan.

  “Well and well. I offer my apologies, at any rate. I do not even ask you accept them.”

  Talysse swore she could actually see him put on a mask of benevolence.

  “All I ask is a chance to make my offer more clearly.” A smile crawled onto his face.

  Again Talysse remained silent. She looked more openly for Jehan, listening for the deep boom of his voice, but songs had broken out in raucous competition. Men crowded at nearby tables, some still wearing armor. Saveric pressed on as if they were seated in a quiet study.

  “You are a girl of great promise: so Trumbert told me, so I see you to be. Promise, however, is not realization. I have known many a talented youngster who went astray, many a flower that failed to bloom, all for want of instruction and opportunity. This is what you need, child, instruction and opportunity. Paris offers these. I offer these.”

  He leaned forward again. Talysse leaned back the same distance. Detta’s hand found hers under the table.

  “You see,” the wizard continued, “how I am forthright with you. I could tell you sweet lies and put myself in a favorable light, but I shall not dissimulate. I respect you too much for that.”

  His eyes bore into her. He was too eager. Talysse wished he would stop talking. She wished Jehan would come back. She wished she were anywhere but here.

  “Therefore this: Had you been ordinary, I would have returned to Paris, where I have much to do. Yet here I am, still in the Kingdom of Arelat. That is a measure of my interest… no, of my hope in you.”

  The smell of the place was as thick as the noise. A man lea
ned against the wall in the near corner. Beside him was a black staff; how had she not seen that before? Where was Jehan?

  “Remigius,” she said, hardly able to think.

  “Ah, your so-called patron.” Saveric shook his head. “I must tell you hard news about Remigius. He is ambitious and vain; worse than wanting power, he wants fame. To gain it, he has labored in secret for years. I have watched him. He intends to rule the Syndicat. I have tried reason, warnings, threats, but all I have done is made him push forward his plans. Just how you fit into those plans is as yet unclear to me, but it clearly has something to do with your… unusual… powers. He has used you from the start, you poor thing.”

  I am not a poor thing!

  The wizard sighed and shook his head. “You see how I put every foot wrong, with you as well as with him. And with my own order. When I tried to warn them, they accused me of jealousy.

  “I am thwarted there, but let me at least protect the one—the two; your pardon, madame gnome—whom I have so recklessly endangered. I urge you again, come with me to Paris, for Remigius is searching. If he finds you, what do you suppose will happen?”

  Saveric leaned forward, pushing the question at her. Talysse saw herself in a room of stone, surrounded by herbs and vapors, bound by chains. She pounded her fist on the table and the image vanished.

  “No,” she said, as firmly as she could. “I will not.”

  Saveric looked disappointed, but she did not trust the look.

  “You think to find your parents,” he said, “but they are not what’s important now.”

  Talysse got to her feet so abruptly, Detta nearly tumbled as the bench rocked back.

  “Don’t tell me what’s important,” she shouted. She climbed onto the table, searching for Jehan. This wizard was nothing but another Trumbert, telling her what to think, what to feel.

  “Do not try to leave,” Saveric said, with just enough edge to his voice that she grew more alarmed.

  “I don’t want to go with you,” Talysse said as firmly as she could. “I want you to leave me alone.”

  It took only a moment to see it: three men there, and two there, all armed and all moving toward her. The face of one bore a gruesome scar.

  Seeing her on the table, a man called out, laughing, “A song! Chanson!”