Fortress of Ice

by C. J. Cherryh

  “I don’t truly know what the Bryaltines believe, Your Highness. I never had the catechism.”

  “Indeed. Does the Quinalt service frighten you?”

  “I heard— I heard somewhere, Your Highness, that they curse the Bryaltines. That scares me.”

  A sigh. “An obscure part of the service. A nuisanceful point we oppose, but—” A shrug and a shake of his head. “Be patient with us Guelenfolk. The 7 7

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  queen herself endures it. The liturgy is under review . . . under close review, considering the succession.”

  Considering the succession. What did that possibly mean?

  Then he thought of Aewyn and Aemaryen, whose mother was Bryaltine, and one of whom would grow up Bryaltine.

  “Your quiet acceptance, like the queen’s, will be noted. Your presence with the family will disturb some folk, but, more important, it will reassure others that you can enter under that roof without fear. Your quiet, respectful attendance, your observance of Quinalt forms, will answer important questions and provide your father with answers to questions.”

  “Questions, Your Highness?”

  “About your mother’s infl uence.”

  His cheeks fl amed hot.

  “Take no shame in my saying so,” Efanor added gently. “That infl uence may pose critical questions in certain minds, but not among us who understand the circumstances. Certainly your birth was none of your choosing.

  We hope to have a quiet, a decorous service. Servants do gossip. Be scrupu-lously observant. I see you are stocking up on food.”

  The blush surely grew worse.

  “You know you must consume all this food tonight,” Efanor said, “or cast it out before sunrise, to have no sustenance nor drink in your room . . .

  if you are observant.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Rise before dawn. Dress in the clothes provided you. I trust they do fi t.”

  “I’m sure, sir.” He was no such thing. He had had no time to try them.

  And he was too distressed to ask if what was provided him was proper. The very last thing he wanted was His Highness inspecting them in his room and finding Paisi gone.

  “Join us in the lower hall just before dawn,” Efanor said. “Join the processional with the family. Sit with us, walk and sit in order just behind me, not next to Aewyn, and do not exchange glances with anyone. Have a pleasant look, however. A smile is not in order during the processional into the sanctuary, but you are permitted to smile after services, when you walk out in view of the city. Do you think you can observe all that?”

  He attempted a smile, uncertainly, obediently, and, he feared, unsuccessfully. “I can, Your Highness.”

  “Leaving the Quinaltine by daylight, one may smile. Smile, and never frown; but laughter— laughter should occur only when you are back well 7 8

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  within the Guelesfort gates, no matter what your half brother provokes. This is a very grave matter: I cannot say that strongly enough. Mind, if any priest or His Holiness speaks to you directly within the sanctuary, look down when spoken to and answer him modestly and clearly. Especially try not to frown at any particular people. One notes you do this at times.”

  “I never intended so, Your Highness.”

  “Thinking, perhaps? A lad of deep thoughts?”

  Another blush. “I never meant to offend anyone.”

  “Well, let me see your cheerful face again.”

  He tried. He tried with all his heart, then he thought it was the third lie, and the smile died a sudden death.

  “Good lad,” Efanor said somberly, and gave him back his basket, a dismissal. “Don’t take this meeting as a rebuke. Take it for concern. I am concerned, young Otter, as a close kinsman.”

  He felt a sudden urge to confess everything, to pour out all his sins to this man— it seemed for that one moment that he might make Efanor understand everything that had happened. But he hardly knew this priestly elder prince. He had always found Efanor a cipher, a stiff and formal sort servants skipped to obey and facing whom soldiers snapped to attention, even if he was notoriously holy and very scholarly.

  “Your Highness,” he said instead, and stood up, with the silly basket in his hands.

  “I’m told you read quite well.”

  “Yes, Your Highness, I hope I do.”

  Efanor handed him a little roll of parchment, tied up with brown cord.

  “This will explain in some detail the days of the Festival, what you should do on each particular day, and when you should rise and sit and expect to depart services.”

  He took the little scroll and tucked it, along with the charm, into his bosom. “Thank you. Thank you very much, Your Highness.”

  “And you won’t really need all that bread,” Efanor said. “My royal brother is hosting the family tonight in his chambers. It’s a custom we have.

  Your man will dine with the royal servants, where one trusts he will remain sober. Wear your second - best for the occasion. And appear at sunset.”

  “Your Highness.” He hardly had breath left in him. And Efanor clearly had no idea Paisi was gone.

  He bowed. Efanor favored him with a small smile, and stood up, and offered him the door.

  He bowed again. He went out into the hall, on his own with the basket, 7 9

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  and with the instructions, and with his charm, and his lengthening chain of fabrications, and went back toward the stairs.

  He had lied the third time. Everything had, on the surface, gone well and smoothly. He had only to wear his second - best clothes and have supper with his father, and smile at the right times and not the wrong ones when they went in public. But his heart kicked like a hare in a trap. Was it tonight, not tomorrow, that he should tell his father the truth?

  It had no certain feeling, the way his luck ran now.

  Paisi, oh, Paisi, he thought. Be careful. Be ever so careful.

  It might still be my mother’s working.

  viii

  if paisi had been with him as sundown came, he would have laid out all the right clothes for the dinner. He would have called for a bath well in advance and had the house servants carry the water up, and Otter and Paisi would have dressed in good order. But Paisi was somewhere on the road south now, perhaps approaching some village, or at very least one of the windbreak shelters they had used on their way, with a good stone wall for protection and a place for lawful fi res.

  So as the day dimmed in the windows, Otter did as Paisi would have done and laid his second - best out on the bed. He had no idea how to get a bath, which required informing someone: he had no idea who that person was.

  He did know the source of drinking water, however, down by the inner well, where the whole Guelesfort got its water from a spring unstoppable by drought or hostile attack. It was cold as old sin when it came out, that was what Paisi had said, and miserable for washing, but it would serve in present circumstances. Otter carried it upstairs in the drinking pitcher, and none of the servants, lowest of the low, asked him his business.

  He warmed a little water in the fireplace, for which wood was running somewhat low, and he used the washing basin for a bath, there on the warm hearthstones. He took pains with his appearance as he dressed, and found himself, as far as he could tell, acceptable. He had put the basket of food by the hearthside, to burn before morning, as Efanor’s little scroll informed him he should do. He had put the amulet in the clothespress in one of his gloves, where it would rest, safe from prying servants and accidents.

  And he had on his fine dark brown, modest and plain, but very, very kind to clean skin. He thought he must look very fine, not as showy as he was 8 0

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  sure Aewyn would appear tonight, let alone their father and the queen. But he was ready. His hair was combed. His linen was spotless. He hoped he would find the courage he needed. He hoped Aewyn was speaking to him and that he could signal the need to talk
to him in private, when he could make peace.

  He had been alone since dawn, and trembled at the thought of trying to confess his sins tonight, at least to Aewyn, as quietly as he could, and maybe, if he could possibly catch the king in private and without servants or guards— maybe he should just take the chance instead of waiting until tomorrow.

  Tonight was sure— well, almost sure. Tomorrow— he had no notion whether he would have a chance then, either: it was only Aewyn and his mother, so far as he knew, who could get to him completely in private.

  But there was still Aewyn to face. And that came fi rst.

  He left his rooms at the very edge of dusk and went down the hall and across the landing of the grand stairs, a long walk to the opposite wing that the royal apartments occupied. The guards here all knew him, and ignored him as someone who had leave to come and go, and the fact that the guards were still at Aewyn’s door informed him that Aewyn had not yet gone to his father’s chambers. He saw that with a sudden rush of hope.

  The guards had to announce him: they did that when he simply appeared at the door and waited, and it was no delay at all before they let him in.

  “There you are!” Aewyn said with a frown. “Where have you been?”

  “I—” he began, then lost the thread of everything.

  “I tried to find you early this morning, and I couldn’t, so I took a sack of apples from the kitchen storeroom, and I took them down and paid the stableboy to lay them out tomorrow. Then the tailor showed up, and Master Armorer, and that was hours of standing.” Aewyn’s face grew worried, then, reflecting his. “Is something wrong? Where have you been all day?”

  Otter lowered his voice to its faintest. “In my rooms. I had to send Paisi home, on my horse.”

  “Why?” Aewyn asked, hardly lowering his voice at all, then seized him by the arm and led him over near the tall diamond windows where there was a modicum of privacy from the servants. “Why? What happened?”

  How did he know about Gran? That was the burning question. And he chose not to lie— but not to tell everything until Aewyn thought to ask him.

  “Gran’s taken ill. And we didn’t count on the storms being so bad and there might not be enough wood small enough for her to carry, and some-8 1

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  times the shed door freezes up with ice, so you have to take an axe to get the ice clear.”

  “So Paisi left, and you helped him?” Aewyn’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t see you down at the stable when I was there.”

  “We were out before it was more than half - light, and I rode and Paisi walked as far as the gate. We found merchants for him to travel with, so he’s safe. But I had to lie to the gate wardens up and down, and then the stablemaster’s boy, and then to your uncle . . .”

  “To Uncle Efanor? How did he get into it?”

  “He stopped me in the hall to tell me how to behave in Festival, and to tell me to come to dinner tonight.”

  “But you’re completely by yourself now! Who helped you?”

  “I had a bath, and I always dressed myself. And I had already gotten food for supper, except His Highness said I was to come to dinner.”

  “Well, but you’re all alone! You can’t be by yourself. Come stay with me tonight!”

  “I can’t. They’ll know, and they could still catch Paisi if they know too soon.” He hadn’t made up his mind, but all of a sudden what he told Paisi he would do seemed the best course. “I have to pretend he’s still here at least until tomorrow; then they won’t bother to chase him.”

  “You think they would chase him?”

  There was the hardest part, the part he hoped would get by. “We aren’t supposed to know about Gran, and we do, by a way that we’re not supposed to, and if we weren’t supposed to know, then we weren’t supposed to go, either, were we?”

  “How did you know?” Aewyn asked, and Otter took a deep breath and told the truth:

  “Dreams. We both had the same dream, and Gran can Send a dream if she has to. She needs us. And Paisi had to go, and we can’t take a chance of Paisi getting caught. He has to get through.”

  “But he is coming back, isn’t he?”

  “He will, as soon as he can. It’s three days to get there. Longer, with the weather. And he won’t try to come back until it’s safe on the roads. I told him not to try. But I’ll tell His Majesty tomorrow, after Fast Day, after Paisi’s had time enough to get clear away. And I’ll do my best to explain everything.

  I hope His Majesty may forgive me.”

  “He won’t be angry.”

  “I hope he won’t be. I was so scared your uncle knew—”

  “Well, but he doesn’t, then, does he?” Aewyn loved plots above all things: 8 2

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  his eyes sparkled. “And if you don’t have anybody to do for you, well, I can send you gifts, can’t I?”

  “Can you send a whole bath?”

  Aewyn laughed. “I can! I shall! And with the family dinner tonight, you won’t starve.”

  “So. See?” He feigned complete confidence. “It’s all perfectly fi ne. And I’ll confess what I did, when I have to. But maybe nobody will ever notice Paisi isn’t here!”

  Aewyn’s eyes fairly danced. “How did you get away with the horse?”

  “I asked the stableboy to saddle him.”

  “And just took him out?”

  “Paisi got breakfast from the kitchen, and I got Feiny out. We rode down to the gate before anybody was much on the streets, found some merchants who wanted a guard, and there we were. They promised to feed Paisi and Feiny both until they reach the crossing. And I sent Feiny out in all his gear, so he’ll be warm enough, especially with the traders’ mules and enough to eat.”

  “That’s clever!”

  “And I still have Paisi’s horse, if I need him.”

  “He’s a piebald.”

  “He has all his legs, last I saw.”

  Aewyn laughed. “Well, he can’t keep up with mine. We’ll tell Papa what’s happened and get you another horse.”

  “I can’t feed the one I have!”

  Aewyn took on a quizzical expression. “The boy will feed him. He always does.”

  “But at Gran’s . . . Gran can’t feed a horse. We’ll have to give Feiny and Tammis back when I go home for good and all.”

  “You’re not going home!”

  “I don’t know. I suppose that depends on whether your father sends me home for stealing Feiny.”

  “He won’t! You’ll be here forever.”

  Aewyn clearly had his mind made up on the point, and it was good to hear, but equally clearly, it was only Aewyn’s opinion, not the king’s.

  “I hope to be here,” Otter said. He wasn’t sure about wanting it through spring planting, when Gran needed him, and once he’d said it the very ground under him felt shaky, as if nothing before him was the same as before. “I don’t know where I’ll be once the king fi nds out.”

  “I’ll go with you to tell him.”

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  “After Fast Day. To give Paisi time enough. If soldiers came after him, I don’t know what he might do.”

  “After Fast Day,” Aewyn said. “So we should go to dinner now. And we’ll have our secret.”

  ix

  otter had only once stood in the king’s private chambers, and had no idea where he was to go, beyond the little room he knew, but Aewyn knew the way to the inner halls, quite confidently. He marched them past all the guards, all the servants, arm in arm, at the last, a terrifying lack of manners, right into the room set for family dining.

  The king was there, and they disentangled themselves and bowed respectfully and properly— bowed, likewise to the queen, Ninévrisë. Aewyn came to her for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Mama,” he said, and returned her embrace.

  Then Ninévrisë reached out a hand toward Otter, too, beckoning insistently. “Come,” she said, “come here, young man.”

/>   Otter advanced ever so cautiously, his heart thumping. His vision was all of white and gold, beautiful furnishings, beautiful table, beautiful pale blue gown and a nearer and nearer vision of dark hair and a golden circlet, with the most luminous violet eyes gazing right at his. He was caught, snared, drawn forward, constrained to offer a hand, and to touch and be touched.

  “Welcome,” the queen said, when he bowed and looked up. “Welcome, Otter.”

  They said the queen had been with his mother the hour he was born.

  They said the queen had held him in her arms. He had never been able to grasp it for the truth— that she could be so kind to her husband’s bastard.

  He was utterly dismayed when she drew him forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, in the way gentlefolk kinsmen did.

  “Your Majesty,” he murmured. She was that. She was a reigning queen in all but name, in her own kingdom of Elwynor. And wizardry and witchery were not at all dead in Elwynor: her title, Regent of Elwynor, held place for the return of a Sihhë king. The Gift, Gran had told him, ran as strong in that line as it did through the Aswydds. He felt it tingle through her fi ngers, through the touch of her lips, so potent for the instant that it sparked through his bones and left him addle - witted and dazed, staring at her.

  “Come, oh, come,” Aewyn said impatiently, dragging him by the arm, 8 4

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  past Prince Efanor, and past the king himself, to claim a seat beside him at table, standing. They were only Aewyn, and Efanor, and the king and queen, and it was impossible to think only five people could eat at that great table, with all those plates and cups. There was holiday greenery, just as Aewyn had said, and birds served under their feathers, and pies, stacks of pies. It hardly seemed so grim, the Quinalt holy day, as it had sounded in Efanor’s little list of instructions.

  King Cefwyn pronounced the prayer: “Gods grant us peace, prosperity, and our heart’s desire. The gods look down on us and bless us all.”

  “So be it,” Efanor said quietly, “and bless them that serve and them that guard.”

  “So be it,” the queen said.

  “So be it,” Aewyn said, and dug his elbows into Otter’s ribs.