Silver May Tarnish

by Andre Norton

  I dropped into cover and swallowed the desire to spit like a cat. I had hoped that beyond the shrine the land healed. Mayhap it did, but there were still predators who hunted. I spied now on a group like Garlen’s band. There were fewer of them and they looked both more hungry and more desperate. More evil also. Their leader was a burly middle-aged man wearing the remnants of what may have once been a uniform.

  But soldier or not, he had no more control over his men than Garlen had owned over his band. From where I crouched I could hear the grumbling.

  “’Sa waste’a time. Who’s gonna ransom this one? I say we finish him then make fer the coast. Mebbe we could wave down some Sulcar ship.”

  There was a guffaw from the leader. “Take a ship from the Sulcar? You’re crazy, Malen. No. There’ll be a ransom for this one. We have only to wait a bit longer.” His grin broadened. “If he’s bin lying to us then you can do what you will. But until then he stays in one piece, understand. We can take a toy to play with anytime. One who’s worth gold is far rarer.” There was a growl of agreement from those about him as the men settled back to dicing.

  I craned to see as they moved a little. I looked for the face but it was the tabbard I saw first. On it I saw the signs of noble rank. I stared, sitting back on my heels, mouth agape. Into my hands, oh Lords of Vengeance, was the enemy of my house delivered. The sigils were those of the House whose son had ravished my gifts into my great-grandmother’s line. My anger burned as I studied the figure of the deer with only one branch of his antlers remaining. That was supposed to show that the House held to peace but would fight at need.

  Truer was the other sign, a dagger thrust into a heart. I sneered, then felt Welwyn’s queen shift, her wing brushing my cheek as if to remind me of something. I remembered my Lady’s words and looked again at the prisoner himself where he huddled.

  With my eyes clearer, I saw one who was barely yet a man. Why, he could not be more than two years older than myself. And when he turned his face from his captors I saw the fear he hid from them. I could understand fear, but not the terror he showed me. Why would he fear so greatly unless—unless he had held them off with tales of a ransom which would not come. If that was so then well might he fear.

  He was wiry rather than heavy-set. His hair was a fall of dark honey, a little too long, but I supposed as a bandit’s prisoner he had little chance to cut it. He had hazel eyes set in an oval face and cheekbones which etched his face into strong lines beneath the wings of hair. There was no evil in that face. No viciousness in the eyes. None of the wet lips in lustful pout I had seen in Garlen’s band, and that I saw in the faces of those about this boy. I saw no evil in him and again my lady’s words came into my mind.

  “Do not reject good honey though bees from that hive have stung in the past,” she had said. Well then. I would not. All that day I watched and listened. Evening came chill. It was early Spring and in the South that could yet be freezing at night. I was warm enough in my heavy cloak but I saw how the boy shivered. The leader came to stand over him, wearing a cloak of his own.

  “Aye, shiver, Lorcan. If your ransom is not here by morning you’ll have better cause to shiver then. We’ve waited long enough and I owe your noble father an ill deed or two. He had me whipped for stealing and I do not forget.”

  “Would you waste the gold my kin will pay?” I liked this Lorcan’s voice. It was quiet but there was a man’s note in it. Nor did he grovel or whine for mercy. I listened to the bandit’s reply with interest.

  “What gold? My men have been gone for months. I think your kin may have taken them. Maybe you are not required. Two older brothers, wasn’t it? Nay. I think you are now a waste of our time. If Belo and Todon are not back by the morrow you shall be ours. My men grow restless, and a good leader knows when to deal with that.” He walked back towards the camp-fire after casually kicking the bound boy.

  Lorcan turned his face away and I saw in his eyes a black despair. His lips moved in what I was sure were prayers. I slid back silently. I was sure now I was right. Perhaps his cadet branch of the House of Paltendale was impoverished, or gone in the war with all his kin dead. I believed there would be no ransom for the boy, as their leader had half-guessed. What would come to Lorcan in the dawn would not be pleasant. I found I had made up my mind. Enemy of my House or not, I would save this boy if I could.

  As I decided, I felt in the back of my mind a sweet approval. It was right I do this. On my shoulders the three queens hummed. I consulted them. Myself, I could think of no better plan than to do to this group of evil men as we had once done to Garlen’s band. They were no greater in numbers. But I considered. The boy, Lorcan. I knew this kind of bandit now. If any survived our first attack they would blame the boy and try to slay him before he could be saved. I must see if I could free him first.

  “Why not both plans together, daughter of my Hive?” came my lady’s voice through Welwyn’s Queen. “Do not forget the warriors about you.”

  My thoughts leaped to catch that. I recalled how Neeco had died. Then, too, there was Lorcan. He must be warrior-trained, and in these days it was likely he was well blooded. That he was desperate I knew. He was not likely to throw away any chance given him. I had the sword I’d taken from Lord Lanson’s house. True, it seemed to have been made for a boy, but it was of fine forging. And the lighter weight should only make it easier for Lorcan to use. After being tied so long he would find it hard to move.

  I studied the clearing. There would be no way I could get poison into their cooking pot or wine. But my warriors were deadly. I laid careful plans with the queens. Hopefully, they would hatch into a lethal outcome. Then I waited and watched. It was almost dawn by the time I was ready. But what wolfshead rises with the sun? In the clearing the outlaws slept soundly; their single guard was dozing. My warriors moved at my signal, flowing in a small black cloud towards the guard. I followed silently. They struck.

  The guard’s struggle was as silent as my steps had been. Men stung in the throat by such a poison as my warriors brewed cannot cry out. In seconds I had reached him and my dagger went home. Although with so many stings I think it went to the hilt in a man already dead. I leaned him against the tree. There was a branch there and over it I hooked his belt, leaning his upper body back in balance against the trunk. It looked as if he merely drowsed. Hopefully, if any woke before I was done, they would not see any reason to give an alarm. Then I circled the camp.

  Lorcan’s eyes opened as I hissed softly from the nearest bush. He stared, his gaze focusing on me. I held up my dagger and mimed sawing free his bonds. He nodded, his eyes checking the guard before he looked back to me. Then, very slowly, he began to move, wriggling across the hard ground. At last he was able to thrust his hands backwards to where I could reach them without being seen by any who might wake. I cut hastily and the leather strips fell away.

  My voice was a thread of sound only he could hear. “Can you walk?”

  His voice was no louder. “Not yet. They’ve had me tied too long.”

  “Tell me when you can move again, then.” I sat in my concealment. My warriors were ready but I did not wish to waste their lives. Better to hold off until we could run rather than fight if needs must be. Lorcan had rolled back a little way and lay with his back to his captors. I saw the tiny movements as he massaged his hands and ankles, his face twisted in pain. Overhead the sky was brighter as the sun rose. We must act very soon.

  “Lorcan? Can you walk yet?”

  “How did you know—never mind. I think maybe so.” I slid the sword with belt and scabbard across the beaten earth.

  “Then you can use this?”

  His voice was no louder than mine but the exultant note rang clear. “Indeed I can, Lady. Live or die I shall not forget that you gave me freedom and a means to die fighting.” I choked back my retort that if he died he’d remember nothing. Now was not the time to discuss warrior honor.

  “Then do not move until you must. Better to live and see them die.” I
could see by the sudden snarl that twisted his mouth he was in full agreement with the comment. I moved to where I could see over the whole camp. The sun was almost up but still none stirred. Best I make my move. If I delayed too long some would surely wake, if only to relieve themselves. In my mind I gathered the minds of all those winged-ones who waited the command. Then—

  *Now, brothers!* My order was an arrow released from the bow. During the time we waited, my warriors had moved in twos and threes, crawling unnoticed within the clothing of the sleeping outlaws. One warrior to each side of the throat of any man where they could gain access. Some could not, but they had all found bare flesh. A man fell swiftly to the stings of more than a dozen. The stings of two or three would not kill immediately but they slowed movement and reactions. They would probably kill in the end, it would merely take longer.

  With their strike delivered, my warriors freed themselves from the clothing. Some failed and died; I mourned each death. But this was war. And in war deaths are inevitable. It does not take two to make death in war. If one side chooses to lie down in surrender then it is they who die. But there is still death. I did not so choose and nor did the bees who were valiant fighters for their hive and queen.

  Across the clearing the leader had struggled to his feet. About him his men staggered, crying out in panic and pain. The leader, too, had been stung but only once and I think the pain maddened him. He could have had no idea what had happened but he blamed his captive. He charged towards the boy and then I saw what mettle I had aided.

  Lorcan made no attempt to escape. Instead he seemed to settle, planting his feet and balancing to meet the attack. The larger, heavier man would already be suffering the effects of the sting. But he was still a formidable fighter. Yet it was as if he fought one of the wing-friends.

  Lorcan sword-danced. The blows aimed at him were deflected or parried with cool skill. In the camp clearing, men would have come to their leader’s aid, perhaps, but my warriors hovered. If any man moved that way he found himself faced with angrily buzzing bees. Outlaws they might have been, but not fools. My warriors were ten times the size of the normal dales bees and the men stayed back.

  They saw swiftly enough that their leader was doomed. The poison in their own veins would be working. Already they would feel weakness stealing over them. They may have feared that whatever had freed their captive and attacked them could move further against them at any time. They began to catch up their belongings and slide away to saddle their mounts. I let them go.

  These men were not the band that had murdered my dale, yet I guessed from some of the plunder I had seen in their camp that they had murdered others. My heart cried for vengeance upon these bandits on behalf of other innocents dead at their hands. I had seen women’s jewelry on their wrists and about their necks. Their leader had worn a woman’s fur-lined cloak against the chill of the previous evening.

  I turned back to the fight in time to see the final actions. With a burst of rage the leader had swung a mighty blow. His blade, neatly deflected, after so great an effort dragged his body to one side. Lorcan made a long low lunge with his own blade crossing the other’s steel, sliding in and up. He stepped back as the older man crumpled. My queens lifted into the air as I approached him. They buzzed in anger, demanding the other members of the band be pursued, but I was weary of death. Sickness rose in my throat as I looked at the leader’s body. I refused the queens’ demand, but warriors rose at their orders despite my decision. I was a hiveless queen, I could not command warriors.

  Lorcan stood panting, his sword pointing downward, his gaze meeting mine. I had seen too many deaths of late, but he had fought well, so I flung up one hand in the fighter’s acknowledgement of a fair win.

  His blade lifted in salute. “Lady!” he smiled and lost the hard dangerous look with which he had fought. “How shall I name my rescuer?”

  “I am Meive. Meive of—” I would not use the common name. It was not fitting here and now. “Landale,” I said. “Save that Landale is no more.” I glanced at the body by our feet. “One such as this led men there. I was away and I alone survived.”

  “What of those who slew your date?”

  I felt my mouth pull into a smile such as I do not think was good to see. “They also did not survive—long.”

  “Mistress of Power.” His sword was offered across one arm. “Take back the weapon you lent me.”

  I shook my head. “I cannot use it. Let it remain with one who can.” He nodded. I met his gaze and spoke. “And you? I watched and I think your tales to them of a ransom were—” I paused and he finished my question.

  “Lies? Yes, lady. My House was overrun early while the invaders from the land of Alizon still had their machines. They used them to lay waste to Erondale; it is gone. I was only a child. My father, and those of us who could, withdrew. They pursued. In the fighting my father fell together with both my brothers. I was injured. Our master-at-arms escaped with me before him on his horse. We went to my kin at Paltendale, where I was trained to the sword, but later that dale also fell. I liked not my kin so I left them, taking sword-service with a man I trusted.”

  I felt pleasure at his words. So, from what he said, his had been a cadet House. Not truly of my enemy. And—he had not liked his kin of Paltendale. Lorcan was still speaking.

  “I fought at the battle of Hagar Pass where died the lord I had chosen to serve. After that I fought for a year as one in the patrols which cleaned the land of the few remnants remaining of the invaders. Once that was done I rode away alone. I had no direction, but I found the South pulled me and I answered that call.”

  “So you have no home, no kin left?” His face was suddenly older, bitter with grief, as he spoke softly.

  “Lady, I have no one and nothing.” He seemed to drag his mood back from remembering that loss. His face lightened. “Yet you have given me my freedom and a sword. How shall I say I have nothing? May I aid you in your own plans if you have them?”

  I had seen him fight. Young though he was, he was a fine swordsman and one whom men would follow. But how had he come into the hands of the outlaws, I asked.

  “Through my own folly. I knew Devol as one who had once been of our dale. I was a child then. I did not know he had been cast out as a thief. I remembered only a familiar face whom I rejoiced to see. It was wonderful that someone of my dale was still living. I drank with him, drugged wine, although I did not know that until I woke captive in his hands. I swore my kin would pay high for my return undamaged. I hoped to escape before Devol’s men returned with word that both Paltendale and my House were no more. I failed. Had it not been for you—” He shivered.

  “And if you had freed yourself? What plans had you?”

  Lorcan looked out across the land. “After all that has happened there are many dales left without a lord. I planned to find one such and build a new House to shelter my line. I might have to convince those already there that I was a proper lord, but that I could do, I believe. After that, I would find a lady. With so many men dead there are many girls without living kin to make marriage contracts for them and few have a dowry to give.”

  “And now?”

  He turned those quiet hazel eyes upon me. “Now, Lady? I have taken my life and a sword from your hands. I am your liege-man. Your plans are mine. What do you wish us to do? Though,” he gazed about, “if we take what horses and gear we can from here it is in my mind we could find men to use them. There are good soldiers who wish no more than to follow one who gives sensible orders.”

  He considered that, adding, “I think that there will be husbandless and fatherless women and children, too, who would follow us if we can offer them land and refuge.” His gaze was warmer than any man who merely swore to sword-liege. And I had noted that word: not “you” but “us.”

  I smiled. Honey blended is the sweetest. I would take his plans and blend them with Honeycoombe. He should have a dowry of me. My dale and everything within it. Once we had taken back my home he shou
ld go forth. Beyond Honeycoombe there were many without home or hope. They should return with him to find both. My queens flew about us and I could feel their delight. The hive would prosper again, it was well. And faintly in the back of my head I heard the Bee-Goddess’s voice through Welwyn’s queen on my shoulder.

  “Do not forget me, daughter of my Hive, as you have remembered my words.”

  I grinned, cheerfully watching as Welwyn’s queen lifted to return to the shrine. My brother’s spirit could be proud. He had wrought better than he knew. I would sew a memory quilt as soon as I had leisure. I had taken cloth from the bodies of all I had buried. I would hang the finished quilt upon the walls of the house, behind the High Seats which Lorcan and I would fill. Once my great-grandmother had been stung by Lorcan’s hive. But I suspected the honey I was offered would still be very sweet.

  Nor would I forget the shrine. In the years to come I would teach apprentices to remember. Each Spring I would return to walk and talk with she who dwelled there, as Ithia had done. And when at last my time was come, like Ithia, I, too, should fly free, perhaps to stay with my lady forever. I turned to Lorcan. One day I should tell him of my lineage. That he was not completely kinless. For now it would be enough that we were liege-man and lady.

  “We shall find those outlaws who fell to the bees and plunder them in turn.” I said slowly. “After that, let you follow me, I have an empty dale for which we might find settlers.” My tone became warning. “Yet it is mine. I am willing to share, but not to lose what I hold.” The bees rose to fly in circles about us.

  His hand took mine and lifted it to a kiss. “Lady, lead on. For I think that where you go I shall always be ready to follow. So long as,” he added wryly looking up at those who circled about us, “your friends do not object to my company.”