Knight Or Knave

by Andre Norton

  "We have Rohan to thank for that," Gaurin said.

  "Oh, yes, Rohan."

  "He has indeed come to a man's estate. His father Obern would be proud of him."

  To Ashen's astonishment, Ysa started, and turned deathly pale beneath the rouge on her face. "A—a man's estate," she repeated. She swayed, seeming to be almost on the verge of swooning. Gaurin reached out a hand to steady her, but she waved him away. "It is nothing. A momentary dizziness. Yes, yes, Rohan is a very special young man." Another blast of trumpets sounded, giving her a chance to recover her composure fully. "Ah," the Dowager said, turning toward the door.

  "That would be the King."

  She moved away, and Ashen, relieved that this interview was over, began to search for their places at the high table. As before, she and Gaurin would be seated beside Rannore. The King occupied the center of the table, with Ysa to his right, and the bridal couple was placed on her other side, to honor them.

  Ashen observed Gaurin's easy manner with Harous as they greeted each other.

  Though the men were peers, still Harous held the title of Lord High Marshal and, as a result, could be thought of as Gaurin's commanding officer.

  Harous bent over Ashen's hand. "Greetings, my happy Ashen," he said. "Will you congratulate me in my own happiness?"

  "With all my heart," she said, "and your bride as well."

  "Thank you," Marcala said, and the two touched cheeks, as women will who are not fond of each other, but who are determined to be cordial.

  Marcala's neck and ears glittered with amethysts that matched the gown she wore, and her scent of vaux lilies hung in the air. Ashen thought about the days when her sole ornament had been that pierced stone amulet with the strange power of concealment. How far she had progressed on her path to civilization.

  Ashen and Rannore embraced with much greater warmth. "Oh, how glad I am that you are back so soon," Rannore said. "I find that I missed you, even though we have not been separated long. Perhaps someday I can come to the Oakenkeep for a visit."

  "That would be wonderful!" Ashen exclaimed. "Nothing would please me more. But would it be permitted?"

  "The King scarcely sees me these days. He is no longer a child, though not yet a man, and his grandmother and the Council have more influence over him than I ever will."

  "You know you are greatly welcome," Ashen said. "In fact, why don't you come with us when we return?"

  Rannore looked at her intently, and Ashen realized that Ran-nore's suggestion, hardly more than a wish when she uttered it, was becoming a reality in her friend's mind. Also, by the time they returned, Anamara would no longer be there and, Ashen realized, she would miss even that unwelcome visitor's company. It had given her something with which to occupy herself other than worrying about

  Gaurin.

  Rannore nodded. "I accept," she said firmly. "I will go with you to the

  Oakenkeep."

  "Good. Just be aware that we are country folk and the keep is no Rendelsham

  Castle. We lead a much more simple life there than here."

  "It sounds wonderful."

  Some of Gaurin's retainers had been bidden to the Hall as well, and had been given places at the trestles below the dais. Ashen caught sight of Rohan, seated with Lathrom, and both men saluted her with some pleasure. Then Lathrom saluted

  Rannore, who nodded in acknowledgment.

  "Who is that man?" she asked. "I think I have seen him somewhere before."

  "He is our Captain of the Guard. He was once a sergeant in the late King's company, and was, in fact, in charge of the men who— who spirited me away when

  Obern came to my rescue. Later, he repented of this action and swore fealty to

  Obern and then, when he died, to me and my household. He is a good man, both loyal and very able."

  "And very attractive. Yes, I remember him now."

  Then Rannore turned the talk to lighter matters, more suitable to dinner conversation, leaving Ashen to glance curiously at Lathrom and then at her friend, wondering if some spark had, perchance, passed between them.

  And what, she wondered, as the feast progressed, had caused Ysa to be so disconcerted when Gaurin but remarked on Rohan's now being a man full-grown?

  Ysa fled the wedding eve feast as quickly as decency would allow. All through the meal, the words of Kasai, the Spirit Drummer who had accompanied Snolli of the Sea-Rovers to Rendelsham on the occasion of King Florian's wedding, so many years before, had rolled through her head like ominous thunder. "Perhaps a year, perhaps not until the son of the Chieftain's son is a man full-grown. And yet they will come."

  How could Ysa have overlooked that it was Rohan, Obern's firstborn, whom Kasai had been speaking of, as the Spirit Drum whispered through the Council chamber, and not that child of Ob-em's that Ashen had miscarried!

  Coldness not born of the chill weather seeped through her bones as she climbed the stairs to her tower so swiftly that she had to sit and rest, nursing a stitch in her side. It had to have been the Sorceress's baleful influence, and it was still working against heri Ysa had never been so careless as to forget such a vital piece of information concerning the danger that, she now knew, had never abated, even once. Gaurin's words had acted like a veil lifting over her memory, erasing the shadow the Sorceress had put there. To think that when Ashen had miscarried, she had even entertained the thought that the danger from the

  North had abated, perhaps vanished entirely!

  What a fool she had been—complacent, unheeding. Now she had to work swiftly, if she had any hopes of avoiding the effects of this unthinkable folly. She took the flyer out of its nest and carried it to the window. "Go and seek," she told it, "but this time go northward and do not return until you find out what is afoot."

  Once she had ascertained that it was flying straight and true toward the north, she returned to the carved red-wood chair, where she sat, straining forward, as if to hurry the little creature on its way. Without noticing what she was doing, she clasped her hands together, rubbing the Great Rings over and over, as if for solace and comfort.

  The Young Dowager Queen Rannore looked about the apartment she had been given at the Oakenkeep, nodding appreciatively. "I thought you said this was a kind of rough frontier castle," she said to Ashen. "If once it was, you have made of it a real home, and a remarkably comfortable one at that. I was expecting something little better than cold stone walls!"

  Ashen smiled, knowing that she was blushing. "What we have to offer, we do so with a full heart," she told her friend.

  "I didn't realize how unhappy I truly was in Rendelsham," Rannore said. "Not until I had left the city well behind did it seem that I could take a deep, clean breath."

  "It has not been easy for you, these last few years."

  Ayfare entered the room with a tray bearing two cups and a flagon of the hot spiced juice that was Ashen's preferred beverage. She set it on a table close by the fireplace. "Is there anything else you will be needing, Madame?" she said to

  Rannore. "I couldn't help but notice that you came alone, with naught but the guard around you. I have a young woman, Dayna, working here and she is not badly trained. I will be glad to assign her to you during your stay. And if you require my personal services, you have but to ring." She indicated a bellpull by the door.

  "Thank you—Ayfare, isn't it?" Rannore smiled again. "I will gladly accept Dayna as my maid while I am in residence here, and I will surely call, if there is anything I need."

  Then Ayfare curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her, and both ladies sat down to enjoy the hot drink. Rannore sighed deeply. "I couldn't tell her or, for that matter, anyone but you, that I don't trust any of my staff of women. They were all in Ysa's hire once, and might still be, for all I know. I want to enjoy myself without fear that my least word or deed will be reported to that one!"

  "We must give the Dowager Queen Ysa our dutiful love and regard," Ashen said carefully.

  At that, Rannore chucked. "No o
ne that I know of in Rendel-sham feels anything close to 'dutiful love' for her."

  "Rannore!" Ashen said, trying to put reproof in her voice, but she couldn't maintain it. Between them, and in private, they could be open about their lack of respect toward Rendel's true ruler. Both ladies dissolved into laughter, and it seemed that a great weight had lifted off each.

  "What do you want to do while you are here?" Ashen asked, when their decorum had been restored once more. "Shall we arrange for a hunt? How shall we entertain you? There is often music and dancing, but our ways must seem simple beside what you are accustomed to."

  "Most of all, I want peace and quiet, and rest. I am content to be alone with friends, with perhaps some embroidery or other sewing for a pastime," Rannore replied. "And free, unbridled talk. You have no idea—well, perhaps you do—how tedious it is at Court to always have to be watching what you say, lest it be reported and misinterpreted."

  "If companionship is what you seek, it is here for you. If you require solitude, then you have come to the right place for it. As for sewing, my mending basket is never empty. However, this evening, I propose to show off my highborn guest for all to admire, at dinner in the Hall. Our chef has been worrying about his cooking ever since I sent word that you were returning with us, and he is exceptionally nervous that you will think we are only one cut above Bog savages when it comes to how we live, and how well we eat."

  "I'm sure everything will be wonderful," Rannore said. "Do you think that

  Lathrom will be among the ones at table?"

  "As Captain of the Guard, it is his duty to attend when he is not out on patrol or otherwise occupied," Ashen said. "And even if it weren't, I'm sure he would not miss the chance to be in your company. I saw the looks that passed between you, in Rendelsham."

  This time it was Rannore's turn to blush. "Do you think me wicked, Ashen?" she asked. "Wicked to think about him the way a woman thinks about a man?"

  Ashen leaned forward and clasped her friend's hand. "No, I don't think you are wicked. Remember, I knew your late husband, my half-brother, the King. I had no love for him, and I think that you must have married him out of a sense of duty.

  I can think of no other reason for you to have done so."

  Rannore stared into the fire. "When you are carrying a man's child, it is easy to convince yourself that you love him—or, at least, can honor him enough to make a life together." She seemed to be talking primarily to herself.

  Ashen nodded, remembering her feelings toward Obern, which, uncertain though they were, must still have been stronger and more durable than anything Rannore and Florian had ever had between them. "And especially when that man is the

  King, and you carry the heir," Ashen said.

  "Especially then. Well, I paid for my folly in allowing him to take liberties. I should have thought about my poor cousin, Laherne, and how badly she fared at his hands. But when he threatened to have my grandfather—" Rannore clamped her lips together firmly.

  She didn't need to elaborate. With those words the entire sorry tale unfolded for Ashen, and she had to keep herself from recoiling at the perfidy shown by someone to whom she was—had been—so closely allied by blood. "It is over and done with," she told Rannore, "and you can thank the Powers that you lived. Yes, you have paid for whatever folly you committed—paid in full, and overflowing— and that debt is now canceled. The young King, Peres, is still a stripling, but he seems fair to be a good-enough ruler when his time truly comes. And if he can pry the Kingdom out of Ysa's hands. My guess is that Ysa has been the one reminding you of your 'indiscre-tion,' whenever she thought you needed putting in your place."

  "That was the very word she used. Among others." Rannore swallowed the rest of her spiced juice.

  "It is difficult to go against that woman in the best of circumstances," Ashen said, "and yours were far from good."

  "Tell me how you managed to come out against her as well as you did," Rannore said.

  And so, obligingly, Ashen began relating the story of how she had come to the

  Court, and Harous's role in training her to be a lady instead of a Bog-brat. She told of how Marcala had been assigned to this task, and how Ysa had reacted when she learned that her husband's illegitimate daughter was alive and possibly representing a threat to her iron rule of Rendel.

  The two ladies were still in conversation when Ayfare returned to the guest chamber, to let them know that dinner was ready, and their presence requested in the Hall by Count Gaurin, and by Captain Lathrom as well. Hand in hand, they descended the stairs. Ashen thought she had never seen Rannore's cheeks so pink, nor her eyes so bright as when Lathrom offered her his arm, so he could escort her to her place at the high table.

  Anamara awoke while the stars were still bright. Ever since they had left the big stone place, she had kept on all her clothes even when she went to bed, hoping that this chance would come. Last night, she had willed the men to sleep, all of them, and willed herself to wake up when they were all deep in slumber.

  Stealthily she slipped out of the makeshift tent the soldiers had erected for her, and made for the place where the large animals—they were called

  "horses"—were tethered. She selected the one she had ridden the previous day and led it away from the camp as quietly as possible, pausing from time to time to listen for any sounds indicating that she was being followed. But she heard nothing and, by the time she was far enough away that the light from the campfire could no longer be seen, she judged that she had successfully escaped.

  Then, and only then, she clambered onto the horse's back and dug her heels into its sides, urging it to retrace their steps toward the north and west, back along the way they had come. Only this time, she would avoid the big stone place where the rivers met.

  The nice lady with the pale hair who was sometimes cross, back there, had said

  Anamara was going to be sent home. But Anamara, still with many of the instincts of a bird, knew that they were going in the opposite direction of home. The other lady, the stern one who flew and who had held her face in her strong fingers and told her who she was, had told her also where home was. Therefore, if she had to return home, it must be to that place, damp and dismal arid unfriendly, but home nonetheless.

  Perhaps she would see Rohan there again. Or, if not him, then the old woman who had tended her in a little house, and later, after they had all arrived at the big stone place. She wondered if the furry one, Weyse, would also be there. She had liked Weyse. Weyse crooned to her and purred when she stroked her, and patted Ana-mara's face with clever little paws and coaxed her to share her food.

  Yes, Weyse was probably already home, and Anamara could scarcely abide the time it took to get there so she could go and find Weyse.

  There would be a river—not the one where the big stone place crouched guarding the waters. She remembered that, and the boat. It was different from the streams she had had to cross to get there. They had ridden in a boat. Now, the horse would carry her across. When she got to the river, she would be nearly home.

  When she judged she was close to the big stone place she left the road and traveled cross-country, in more of a straight line, and so arrived at the river in only a couple of days' journeying. Though he had broken through crusts of ice and forded the streams easily enough, the horse refused to go near this river.

  She had to leave him and search for a place where the ice was thick enough that she could cross, or where she could wade. Eventually, downstream, she came to such a spot, where the water babbled over a stony crossing that must have been made by men. Here the stream was swift enough that ice did not form. Without taking off her shoes or giving any thought to the chill of the waters, she walked straight into the stream and across the shadowy borders of the Bog.

  The message came to the Oakenkeep while the residents were still at dinner, welcoming their royal guest. One of the soldiers entered, still in traveling clothes and not having paused long enough to wash the road-grime off. Be
nding low, he whispered in Gaurin's ear. He glanced at Ashen, then at Lathrom. "Come with me so we can talk in private," he said "It cannot wait."

  "I will make our excuses," she said.

  Leaving Rannore a little puzzled but graciously taking up the duty as temporary hostess to the feast, Ashen, Gaurin, Lathrom, and the soldier left the Hall for the small upstairs room Gaurin used as a study. There, mincing no words, the soldier related the news that Anamara was missing and all their efforts had not been sufficient to locate her.

  "How can that be'" Lathrom exclaimed. "Didn't you set a guard? Do you have no trackers, that you can't pick up the trail of a single girl who is a little addled in her wits?" He glanced at Ashen. "No offense, my lady."

  "None taken. Her mind is, truly, befogged. Is there any indication of where she might have gone?"