Silver May Tarnish

by Andre Norton

  “It looks to be so.”

  “How many rode from here to fight beside Imgry?”

  “Aran said they stripped the dale. Even Lord Salden’s father, Salas, rode with us a while, and Salden was of middle-age.”

  “And of those who rode only Aran, Lord Salas, and two others lived? What of the lord’s family? Were there other sons?”

  “Aran told me there were none. Salden was the son still living. Of daughters there were two, both long-since wed. But both lived in dales which were laid waste by the invader. It was for their deaths that Salden and his father chose to ride with Imgry.”

  Beyond us the folk drew together, women holding pitchforks in a way which said they would fight at need. I saw a boy running towards the keep. I halted, dismounting in courtesy to wait. Meive stayed on her horse, ready to flee. The workers moved in until they stood some short arrow-flight away in a half-circle. I had tossed back the chain coif so my face might be seen, which was as well. Lord Salden’s father came riding quickly, but as he recognized me he slowed his mount.

  “Farris of Eldale, well met man. Do you come to take up the service I once offered or to visit friends?”

  As he spoke he was dismounting and advancing to hold out his hand. His hard palm met mine in a strong grip which I returned happily. I had always liked the old man. He had ridden to war, even as his son, but had been too old to match the hard riding of our band. Still, his desire for vengeance had been greater than lordly pride. He had remained acting as clerk and sutler for his son, and a very fair job of it he had made. I had a goodly amount to do with him over the time I rode with his son, and when I returned after the battle at Hagar Pass the old man had offered me a place in Tildale.

  “No, Lord. I come as a friend to see friends. Is Aran here?”

  His face clouded as he shook his head. “No, and there is a sad tale to tell you there, Farris. Would I did not have it to tell. But let that bide. You must be weary, you and your comrade. Come to the keep, wash, share food, fire, and wine. We’ll trade stories of what has happened since I saw you last.”

  “May I speak privately with you, Lord?” I knew Salas well. Lay oath on him and he would see everyone he knew dead at his feet and himself added before he opened his lips. He waved back his people and they obeyed. I nodded thanks.

  “Lord Salas, I present my lady.” I gave that the twist in tone which meant leige. “Meive, Wise Woman of Landale, to whom I owe sword-debt.” I signaled to her so that with her back to those others, she raised her helm’s visor to smile on the old man. “Who we truly are must be secret. I ask only your word on it.”

  His back stiffened. “My word is as good as my oath, Farris. That you know. Yet you shall have both. None shall know your secrets from me. But you say who the both of you are in truth? Therefore I must guess that you, too, are not as you seem.”

  “No harm to you or yours from me or mine,” I said quickly. “With your House I have neither feud nor grudge. But I have enemies. I would they did not hear of me or my lady until I can coax them from hiding or get word of their deaths.” In which things I was hardly alone in the dales. Salas smiled.

  “Be welcome under my roof, the two of you. Guest-rights I offer.”

  “Guest-rights we accept,” I said for us both.

  So we entered the keep of Tildale, and that night as we three sat alone to eat and drink I heard of my friend Aran. And it was a grim tale I heard.

  X

  Meive

  I had listened carefully to Lorcan’s initial plans for my dale. They were of good common sense and that was no mean thing. For what they call “common” sense is none too common. I lay in my bedding and smiled upwards to the dark. I knew above me my warriors had swarmed and now hung from a branch of the tree underneath which we lay. This they had done any night there was a suitable campsite. At other times they found a rock crevice or some such place. They had been valiant scouts during our journey. I opened my mind and basked in dim, sleepy thoughts of nectar and queens.

  I enjoyed our ride down into the market. My wing-friends took to the air and left. They would return when I called to them, which I would not do until we had a safe place to lie for the night. In a market stall Lorcan found for me a good bow which I liked. There were blue and green beads on the grip and the black wood tapered smoothly. I thought it foreign work perhaps, but none the less good for that.

  “Will you risk the inn, Meive? We could have hot baths and eat well, we could sleep soft for once if you wished?”

  A foolish question and I was no fool. I yearned for a hot bath and soap as a lost lamb yearns for the ewe. I told him so and watched as he laughed, the amusement on his face making him look no more than the boy he yet was. It pleased me that I could bring him laughter. Little enough of it had been his portion, poor lad. To lose his mother young, then the baby sister he loved, his father, brothers. To leave behind a home tumbled to ruin, losing all the familiar things in his life. None was well for a child.

  He had loved the master-at-arms, I thought, or perhaps it had only been that Berond was the one thing left to him. Faslane had been a friend but he, too, lay dead. It must seem to Lorcan as if anything for which he came to care was taken by death. Well, I did not plan to die just yet. Let him care for me. I stole a look at his face as we walked the market He had not the arrogance which I had heard of some daleslords. Best he did not show it to me were it there. A wise woman is equal in status to a lord if she has true power.

  “Meive?” Lorcan’s low voice recalled my attention to him as we finished eating. “Is there anything here you wish to purchase?”

  We had been strolling as we ate lightly. I took the lead searching the stalls with hand and glance. I added needles and thread to my pouch, then dried herbs. Lorcan dyed his hair the better not to be known if seen by his enemies. I made sure we had packets of the dye before we turned back to the inn.

  We talked as we ate the good food our innkeeper brought us. The ale was a fair new brew which both of us relished, though we drank only a small amount At last we were done with talk and food. Outside it darkened though it was not yet late. I peered from the window to see clouds covering the sky. I hoped that it would not rain. With all my heart I dislike riding wet.

  “Best we sleep now,” Lorcan told me. “Early to bed and we wake early.” I agreed. It was pleasant riding in the clean quiet time when none save we two were awake and small birds sang. I retired, stripped to my under-garments, and opened the window silently. A flat plate I laid on the sill contained honey-water. I called. The winged-ones hummed in to join me. They drank, then found the warmth of our rooms pleasing, choosing to sleep on a ceiling beam above me so that I laid down in good company. I slept, knowing I was twice safe.

  I woke to a hand over my mouth and Lorcan’s voice whispering my name. I nodded to let him know I was awake, then listened. It was not well but could be worse. Let Lorcan fight: he was a warrior trained. But I, I was Meive of Honeycoombe and I, too, could fight. I heard Lorcan’s outer door flung open. Heard the struggle as I armed myself and warned my warriors. Then I flung open my own door at Lorcan’s shout.

  I saw all in one swift look. Two men down, dead or dying, another half-stunned, sprawled in a corner. And pounding footsteps approaching up the stairs. I spared Lorcan a glance. He needed no aid, being unhurt, and best the innkeeper saw me not. Let him think me a slugabed who slept through any sound. I retired again hastily, sending reassurance to my bees, to come forth later once all the inn staff and others were gone again. And Gods know that took time enough, for those who came would have the story again and again. I held the door somewhat ajar and listened to all that was spoken. At last I was able to rejoin Lorcan.

  “So, we stay another day and night?”

  “I thought you would wish it.” He looked a little anxious. “It would mean another hot bath and a soft bed. I believed you would like that?”

  He meant he, too, would find pleasure as well as I, in which he was very right. I said so, watchi
ng his gaze lighten. The next day was like a fair day. We walked the markets, buying small items and watching the sights. At midday there was a commotion as people pushed away to the gallows-ground to watch the man Lorcan had taken be hanged. I did not wish to see and was pleased to find Lorcan also had no desire to watch the man die.

  On the morrow we rode out We followed a rough trail until we could swing back to the dales again from the fringes of the great Waste. But at last we came to Tildale where I looked for a welcome from Lorcan’s friends. My first sight of the dale was not encouraging. It was poorly farmed, the soil stony and thin. The beasts looked hungry and the people gaunt. Since it was Summer, and they should have had Spring to recover from a hard Winter, it suggested all was not well. I said something of this to Lorcan, who agreed.

  Most of those in the fields appeared to be women and children, so that I wondered, where were the men who should have been there to aid? A question or two and I understood. Lord Salden had taken most to Imgry’s army. Very few had returned. This was a dale of old men or cripples, women and children, until the children should grow. Tildale was an old dale, the fertility of the soil almost worked out. It seemed as if it had never been a large or rich dale. A thought came to my mind then, though I said nothing. The idea might be good, it might not. Let it wait until I saw what manner of lord ruled here, what manner of people he ruled.

  That I saw. Once Lord Salas arrived it was clear he both held Lorcan in high regard and was in turn honored and respected. We bathed again, drank light and ate full before Lord Salas turned to speak of Lorcan’s friend, Aran of Tildale. I had heard much of that rogue. Lorcan had ridden with him more than a year, and they had been good friends, in the manner of men, which is different from that of women.

  Back to back they had stood against the invaders before Aran returned to Tildale. His friend had planned to settle and wed, Lorcan had told me. But it was not to be. Instead Aran had been slain, by men it appeared, in a manner most foul and without cause so far as any knew. The dalesfolk had hunted, Lord Salas told us. Hunted out from Tildale seeking any who might be responsible, but they found no one and nothing.

  “It was a poor death, lad.” Salas bowed his head. “They tortured him; we found him half-naked, dying, the marks of whip and fire upon him. What could Aran have done or known worthy of that?”

  “I cannot think. True, he was not always honest, but he did nothing which would draw such a death.” Lorcan, too, was grieved. “He fought well. No battle-comrade could say Aran did not do his share when the fighting was hard. You say he was dying when you found him, did he say nothing?”

  Lord Salas shook his head. “He raved. Speaking of a man with an eagle’s eyes and antlers. He died before we could bring him home.” I saw this meant something to Lorcan. He said nothing of what that might be but asked another question.

  “How long after you returned to Tildale did this occur?”

  “It was late Summer when we returned.” Salas was reckoning it up. “We worked hard until Winter, digging over and weeding much of the land, which had lain fallow while we were at war, then it was the Spring sowing, and Summer harvest again. Aye. It was on the edge of the next Winter. Somewhat over a year. Does that have meaning to you?”

  “Only this,” Lorcan said thoughtfully. “It is such a time as it might take a man to find another if he knew only a little of where to search.”

  “You think then that those who killed Aran hunted him?”

  “It is possible.” I knew he did not tell all he thought—or knew. We drank little more before retiring, but once Lord Salas was away to his bed I sought out Lorcan’s chamber.

  “You should not be here.”

  I eyed him stubbornly. “I am no lord’s daughter to care. Tell me, Lorcan. When Salas spoke how Aran babbled of eagle’s eyes and antlers you guessed who might have slain Aran, did you not? Will you withhold that from me? What if this man seeks me also and I am taken unawares?” I watched as Lorcan thought that over. I could see his decision when he turned to me, waving that I should sit. His voice was grim.

  “If it is the one I fear then you know him. I have described him well to you before-times.”

  My mind flew to that time we camped and he spoke of an enemy. I gasped. “Hogeth. You believe it was Hogeth. Why?”

  “Why he should do this thing, I know not. But whyfor I believe it to have been him? His eyes, Meive. Of what color are mine; what hue are your own eyes?”

  “Your eyes are hazel,” I said slowly. “Mine are more green, though I am told they, too, are hazel in some light. What of Hogeth then?”

  “Yellow. Like an eagle or hawk. Wicked and without mercy, as I guess Aran to have seen them. As for the antlers, what of Paltendale’s House badge? What is that but a deer with one antler broken? Hogeth is Lord of Paltendale, he would not lightly discard his House badge and name. I think he came seeking me here, perhaps without knowing I went under another name. Aran might not have recognized a description given and denied my own name. Therefore Hogeth questioned him more stringently. Though why he should be so insistent, I know not.” He shook his head sadly but I, too, was thinking hard.

  “What does this Hogeth care about? Women, wealth, his own dale?”

  “As to such things, aye. Women he likes well enough, though he considers them there to be used at his whim. Wealth I think he would like. More to make a show before others than because he would gloat over the coin itself. But Paltendale, yes. There he does care. Faslane believed Hogeth cared enough for Paltendale that he slew his elder brother to inherit dale and heir-right.”

  “Paltendale fell. Could he return?”

  Lorcan shrugged as he looked at me. “He could return. Now that the invader is driven out nothing bars him from the high seat of Paltendale. His father and brothers are dead …” He paused and I knew he remembered his own family. “Faslane, who might have spoken, is dead along with all who rode out with Hogar. With all others of his line dead, Hogeth could return unopposed to rule. But the keep wall, the great door, both were broken in. The dale was ridden with fire and sword so that many cots burned. Those scavengers who came later would have swept up straying beasts. It would need hard coin and a goodly amount to bring the land back, to restock it and to repair the keep.”

  “Even so,” I said quietly, looking at him with meaning. His face changed as he saw it then.

  “Coin I have knowledge of. But how—” He swore savagely, bitterly. “I killed Aran. I with my folly. Well did Faslane chide me after I renounced service to Hogar. Did Berond not teach you to keep tight purse-strings and tighter lips? he said. But in my pride I fumbled what I did and flung gold instead of silver at my lord to pay the price he demanded for the clothing he had given me over the years. And what occurred about his father that Hogeth did not come to know? Or mayhap the old man told him in anger. So now when Hogeth must have coin to rebuild his dale he remembers that gold coin and comes seeking me.” He bowed his head on crossed arms. “Hogeth was my enemy, I knew that. I never thought to warn Tildale or my friend. Now Aran lies dead, tortured to buy Paltendale’s rebuilding.”

  I grieved for his sorrow and the guilt I knew he suffered. But now was not the time to weep. Better to take up sword that others weep. I said so and saw him lift his head to stare at me. His eyes glinted fire through the tears.

  “Well said, my leige-lady. I knew Aran. I would guess at first he knew not for whom they asked. Once he understood—if so be it he ever did—he would set fast his mouth. He was no hero but he could be very stubborn. He would know they could not leave him alive to talk. It would please him to know he died and they got nothing from him.”

  “What could he have said?”

  “Very little, in truth. I had no plans when we parted. I rode a time with those who patrolled seeking out invaders who might be in hiding. It was after that I chose to ride South. I think I had said to him, once, that was in my mind. But ‘South’ is a great area. What does Hogeth know, after all? That I once had one gold coin.
That my own dale is so ruined I can never rebuild my estate there again and hope to prosper.”

  “Maybe so. But what does he wish to believe?” I queried. “Will he not wish that where there is one coin there may be many more? That if you have no dale you will go seeking another to take, as would he? He will return to your dale to see if anyone had camped there. Then he will seek out those with whom you rode to ask questions. Are not many of the dales, much of the lands in the South and East, unharmed? Where else should a lord seek a place to raise his house and his bloodline again?”

  I had not learned from Ithia for nothing. She had taught me to lay one fact upon another and learn a direction. In her own young days, after a great loss, she had wandered far, learning from the good Dames and from others in far stranger places, before she came home to Honeycoombe to build hives and tend her bees. She had taught me of the world beyond Honeycoombe and of the hearts and desires of dalesfolk. It made sense to me that Hogeth would hunt a man who might have gold. Where else would he find the price to rebuild? No lord could spare it. The dales lay poverty-stricken after the war and lords hoarded every coin to themselves, spending only upon their family and essential supplies or repairs.

  Hogeth would get no coin from them who were not kin or clan to him. So he must find any coin he needed elsewhere, and where else but from a man who had once shown he had coin? Gold which would be the sweeter if taken from one Hogeth disliked. So he would hunt a trail. What of the ruined dale, what of those with whom Lorcan had last ridden? I asked.

  “Aye,” he answered me slowly. “I rode home. If he found my camp site he would know at least one rider had been there of recent times, though our treasure is so hid he would find nothing even if he brought a dozen men and hunted all year. No, if he believes there is more gold where that coin came from, then he knows he has to find me. As for the men with whom I rode, I said nothing worth hearing to them, since I had no plans. But I did say as I left them that I would ride South. That much they would know and could tell. But that was all Aran could tell.” He nodded to himself.