by Andre Norton
"Not unlike Her Gracious Highness the Dowager Ysa," Cebastian commented dryly.
"Incidentally, she has been inquiring about you most specifically. I told her you were out hunting."
"Thank you. Do you believe she really was some part of a plot, if plot it was?"
"I don't think so, but with that one, you never can be sure. Oh—before I forget.
The Dowager has decreed that there is to be an enormous tourney, to be held at the next holiday, about two months from now. All the leaders of the Dowager's
Levy are to participate. The talk has been of little else."
"That is very interesting."
"Come now, or we'll be late. And one is never late for the Dowager's table, if one is smart."
They entered the Great Hall together. Cebastian had been correct; everywhere the young nobles were raising voices about the tourney. There was a great deal of discussion concerning the main prize—a suit of exceptionally fine armor.
Rohan took his accustomed place which Her Highness had assigned him, trying not to call attention to himself in any way. At the same time he tried to see any change in her which would suggest astonishment at his appearance. But there was nothing, or very little. Certainly not enough on which to form an opinion on such a weighty matter. He could not be sure at present that he could detect any awareness of anything of the untoward events that had occurred and so he decided that she most likely had had nothing to do with his abduction and near-murder.
"How very thoughtful of you to arrange such a splendid entertainment for us all," he said to Ysa. "The tourney, I mean."
"It used to be a Rendel custom, in times past, to mark holidays with such festivities. I know that training day after day can grow tiresome," she said.
"You deserve a respite, a reward. And also, our people deserve to see how the best youth of Rendel comport themselves, even in mock battle."
"Do you think that we are ready for such an exhibition?"
"Count Harous assures me that you are, or will be. And further, he tells me that you show great promise, young Rohan, far more than your heritage as a Sea-Rover might indicate. He says you are fully as able to command on land as, presumably, you are at sea."
"Count Harous is too kind."
Rohan was quickly growing bored with the stilted conversations one indulged in at Court, where words were used to conceal, not reveal. What, he wondered, did the Dowager mean by arranging this tourney? He resolved to do some investigation between now and the date of the event. Also, there was time, if he could get permission from Harous, to make a quick trip back to the Oaken-keep and confer with Gaurin. He would know about this sort of thing.
In the meantime, however, Rohan did nothing but pretend to enjoy himself, as his fellows did, and to engage in flirtation with the Dowager which, he perceived, she enjoyed very much. Later, perhaps, he could dance with Anamara.
The Magician, who seemed now to be a permanent member at Court, entertained them after dinner. Rohan watched closely but not even by so much as a raised eyebrow did the man—or woman, beneath the man's appearance—indicate that he had encountered Rohan earlier that day.
Unfortunately, he could not find Anamara when the entertainment was finished and the music begun. She was not in the Hall, nor did anybody know of her whereabouts. He knew, instinctively, that it would not be wise for him to openly search for her.
Another mystery to add to the growing number Rohan knew he must investigate. He chose another partner for the opening gal-liard, and, eventually, the Dowager arose. He would never find a better moment to end the boring surface chitchat and excuse himself and so the endless evening drew to a close.
Harous, deeply absorbed by his duties, was unavailable. Having chaffed at waiting for at least a six-day, Rohan started unbidden for the Oakenkeep. He thought about taking Cebastian with him but decided against it, knowing that he could go and make it back faster if he traveled alone.
He was pleased indeed at the time he made. After only a day and a half on the road he arrived at the Oakenkeep and without any hesitation made his way at once to Guarin's private office.
There he faced both his foster father and Ashen, giving his report as carefully and completely as he could.
Gaurin spoke first. "Tell me what the others think about this contest."
"It is causing some rivalry, of course. Some of their sponsors are said to be boasting their choices too warmly, even to the edge of real quarrels. Gattor of
Bilth, for example, has disputed heatedly with Lord Royance of Grattenbor. Made a large wager. But the worst, I think, is that company of lickspittles who once formed King Florian's band of intimates. They will not take up arms, but they are everywhere, pushing this one, whispering into that one's ear. They are encouraging factions to form, and they seem to take pleasure in setting one faction against another."
"That cannot bode well for peace in the Kingdom," Ashen commented.
"No, it doesn't. As to the little boy who is King, Peres, he is seen in public more often these days and it is said that a faction is even forming around him.
It makes being at Court a lot more interesting, but I cannot think that anything good can come of it."
"How does the young King?" Ashen asked. "And Rannore, his mother?"
"Well enough, though he seems a little on the frail side. As to the Young
Dowager, she is little more than a living ghost, creeping about when someone lets her out of her apartment, but kept hidden away much of the time."
Ashen frowned, and Rohan changed the subject, knowing of her fondness for
Rannore. "Anyway, all this talk about the tourney, and which side will win and who will back whom, was a blessing in one way. It took the attention off me, and my adventures with some would-be assassins—a part of one of the factions, I am convinced."
"Assassins?" Ashen was startled. "You never mentioned that."
"Oh," Rohan said, more than a little abashed. "I thought Gran-dam Zaz would have told you the story, when next you visited her."
"We have put off a return trip into the Bog," Gaurin said. "Perhaps that wasn't a good idea."
"Grandam Zaz is the one who saved me, you know. Turned herself into a Bog monster the likes of which you couldn't even imagine, and plucked me out of the assassins' hands as neat as you please. Then she slapped me for being a fool."
Both Gaurin and Ashen had to laugh. "She's slapped me for the same reason,"
Ashen said. "Or, sometimes, even less." She turned to Gaurin. "Would it be possible to go into the Bog?"
"Yes. We've had a break in the weather, and all is quiet at the moment. I think we need Madame Zazar's wisdom to help us decipher what may be going on at Court, and the best way to advise Rohan, when he has to deal with it."
Thoughtfully Ashen turned the heavy stone bracelet around on her wrist, but kept her own counsel.
The next day, with Rohan shouldering a large pack of food and warm clothing as gifts, the three of them made their way to Zazar's hut. Ashen cautiously called on her Bog upbringing to make sure they were not discovered on the way. Down in the village, not as many mud-plastered reed chimneys were smoking as might have been expected, indicating that the men, at least, were out and on the hunt. A spiral of smoke rising from Zazar's chimney signaled that she was at home.
"Good," Ashen observed. "I would not have liked for us to have stayed out here, waiting for her to return from what might be a long errand."
Without any sign of surprise, Zazar met them at the door. "Hot soup's on the fire," she said by way of greeting. "The broth is a little thin by now, because winter is pinching hard. However, it'll warm your bones."
"Here is dried meat and I will arrange to have a haunch of fresh fallowbeeste sent to our usual supply point," Gaurin promised. "Though I think it might freeze before you can retrieve it."
Zazar rummaged in a woven reed box, drew out an amulet, and handed it to him.
"Leave it there and I'll be glad to have it. This will k
eep away predators—or thieves." Then the Wysen-wyf set the newly brought supplies aside and dipped out bowls of soup made more filling by the addition of tart, edible grasses and thick noodles.
"I remember these noodles from my childhood," Ashen said. She sipped from her bowl with obvious pleasure. "I always liked them."
"Well, you didn't come all this way just to compliment my soup," Zazar said.
"What did bring you?"
Gaurin and Rohan told her of the oncoming tourney, and the fracturing of the political harmony in Rendelsham, and of the appearance of the mysterious
Magician and how the man—or woman—had tried to tempt Rohan. By the time they had finished, Zazar's lips were turned down in an expression of disgust mingled with contempt.
"The Dowager's a fool," she said. "But I knew that from long ago. I know of this
Magician. Sorceress, really. Her name is Flavielle. Calls herself Flavian, when she travels in a man's guise, but she's a woman, right enough. She is up to no good, you can safely wager on it. And you say you turned her down on her so-kind offer, Rohan?"
"I did. Something about her put the hair up on the back of my neck."
"Hmph. For once you used your head for something other than to perch your helmet on. Well, with this news I need to do a few things, and that means a trip to
Galinth. You three might as well come with me."
"I had been hoping to show Galinth to Gaurin on this trip," Ashen said, "and I want to see Weyse again as well."
"Don't count on much of her company. She'll be helping me. Now, take that pack of food and I'll prepare more, for we'll need it while we're there. No need for shin-armor—all the snakes are in deep sleep—but you can please hand me that new warm cloak you brought." Zazar wrapped the garment around herself, and her dour expression softened. "We don't find a great deal of fur in the Bog, and until lately, haven't needed it much. Thank you."
"I hoped you would like it," Gaurin said. He kissed her hand, and Zazar scowled once more.
"Come along, come along, and don't dally. The sooner we're there and back, the better. Rohan will be missed, if he isn't already, and this absence on top of the other—Well, it won't do his military career much good."
So saying, the Wysen-wyf led them out the back way to where several boats were pulled up out of the water, available. She selected one capable of holding the four of them and, presently, the two men, with Zazar guiding them, were poling their way through the brackish, cold waters of the Bog. More than once they had to break through a thin layer of ice to enter one of the channels leading away from the main waterways.
"At least the Boggins are lying deep," Zazar commented at one point. "They are too sluggish to hunt, when it's this cold."
"Cold of blood, like snakes. I'd like to see one of these monsters for myself,"
Rohan said. "I have heard enough about them from Ashen. Still, I can't help but be glad for it, that they're all asleep."
"I'll show you a stone one later," Zazar said. "And that should do for you, if you know what's good for you."
They made good time. Day had not yet drawn on toward evening when they passed a ruined wall of standing stones and entered the drowned gateway and pool leading to the city itself. Ashen uttered a gasp of recognition.
"There's been no change at all," she said. "Somehow, I thought the ruination would have progressed."
"No," said Zazar, "it is as it is, and will remain so until all changes in the world. Here's the landing-stone."
Zazar took the pole from Rohan and jammed it into a crevice between two of the rocks. Then she looped the rope attached to the bow tightly around the pole. The two men climbed out first, and helped the women, though Zazar leapt nimbly off onto the flat stone and was halfway up the slope before Ashen had found her footing.
"So this is Galinth," Gaurin said. "It must have once been a mighty city indeed."
"Rendel's capital, before they built the new city, and that frivolous excuse for a castle."
Ashen turned and stared at Zazar, and Rohan knew that this was a new revelation for her. "What happened?" she said.
"Much," Zazar replied shortly. She raised both her hands palm out and intoned something in a sonorous singsong. The words were unintelligible. Then her chant was answered by a song strange both in rhythm and tune.
"This is as it was before," Ashen whispered. "It is as if Zazar is announcing something of importance, or perhaps asking for refuge."
"Or asking permission to enter," Gaurin returned. "Whom is she asking?"
"I never knew, nor did I dare ask."
"Shush with your whispers," Zazar said, "and follow me."
She led them down the path, up stairs and down, over walls, past ruined buildings, until they came to one that was somewhat less ruined than most of the others. In the courtyard lay a figure, facedown, carved of stone and broken into thirds. Gaurin knelt and touched the pieces wonderingly. But then, at an impatient sound and a gesture from Zazar, he followed her through the open doorway. A curtain hung just inside the doorway, sheltering the interior from the gaze of any interlopers. Inside, they found a fire already lighted and, revealed in the light of the flames, a plump, furred creature that squeaked and trilled when it caught sight of them. It waddled toward them as fast as its girth would allow it to go.
"Weyse!" Ashen cried. She stooped to gather the creature into her arms. "Oh, how
I've missed you!"
Weyse began purring loudly enough that the sound filled the chamber where the travelers now found themselves. The little creature grasped Ashen's hand with her slender forepaws and began licking Ashen's fingers.
"Put your things down," Zazar said. "You'll be staying for a while."
"How long?" Rohan asked.
"As long as it takes." Then her features softened a little. "You'll be going back to Rendelsham from here so you won't have to retrace your steps from the
Oakenkeep."
"Thank you, Grandam Zaz. But my horse, my gear—"
"I'll arrange to have word sent so it will be waiting for you when you reach the edge of the Bog. Gaurin, I'll need you for that. Otherwise, it might cause alarm in the keep to receive such a message, from a source they know not."
Gaurin smiled, a bit wryly. "I think that Lathrom, who is now my second-in-command, is fairly used to some strange happenings. Still, it is well thought-of by you."
"While we're taking care of this matter, Ashen, you make beds from those mats, like you did before. Rohan, you put away the food and keep Weyse out of the dried grain and berries or she'll have it all eaten before you can blink your eyes. Gaurin, you fetch down a set of clay tablets I'll point out to you.
They're on yonder shelf."
They scarcely had time, Rohan thought, to reflect on the strangeness of their surroundings, what with Grandam Zaz putting them all to work so promptly. But then, Ashen had been here before so it wasn't all that new to her. Rohan stowed the packages of meat and dried trail-food out of Weyse's reach. However, he found himself giving in to the pleading eyes of the little furred creature who, in spite of her heft, was giving a good imitation of being on the brink of starvation. He took out a handful of sweet berries to give to her. To his wry amusement, Weyse tugged him to a seated position and then climbed into his lap to enjoy her treat, nibbling the mixture from the palm of his hand. Then she licked her lips, and as plainly as if she had used words, indicated that she would now like a drink of water.
Rohan found a basin set in the floor and, above it, protruding from the wall, a hollow tube of the same rock as the walls, from which trickled a steady stream of water. He wondered that Weyse didn't simply drink from this, but with a philosophical shrug he found a bowl—empty except for a few drops at the bottom—and filled it for her. While the little creature lapped contentedly,
Rohan sampled the water himself and found it good and sweet, and not as teeth-cracking cold as he expected.
"We're done," Zazar said. "Now, all of you, leave me alone for a whi
le. Rohan, you go look around outside but mind where you're going so you won't be lost. Not all Bog-creatures are presently in a torpor. Ashen, I think you had something to show to Gaurin. Weyse, you help me."
With a little trilling sound, Weyse waddled obediently over to the Wysen-wyf and stood up, clutching Zazar's skirts with her clever little paws. Zazar picked
Weyse up and cuddled her the way a woman would hold a nursing child. "Yes, I'm fond of you, too," she said, in an unaccustomed soft voice. "Now go," she said in her normal, irascible tone to the rest of them. "I'll let you know what I have learned when you return."
With Gaurin's strength to help her, lifting the stone slab set into the floor of the chamber was a trivial matter for Ashen. The two of them, Ashen in the lead, descended the stairway thus revealed and Gaurin pulled the slab down behind them. The light-rods she remembered from years before still burned, but, she also remembered, unless something had changed in this changeless place, the light would fail farther on. She touched the lantern she had brought, reassured by its presence.
