″Lots of people up north turned Wendigo in the bad time,″ he said quietly; his eyes looked through the smoke as if he was peering through the veil of years.
Ingolf leaned over under the guise of reaching for a cookie and murmured in Rudi′s ear: ″That′s how Pete lost his family. And why he headed south.″
The Indian continued: ″Not everyone—there were plenty of people who knew how to hunt, fish, find wild rice, grow stuff like spuds—but plenty, yeah. The land couldn′t carry all the people there with nothing coming in, ′specially after we got us some refugees turning up looking for a meal. It′s not like down here in the warm places where there was lots of grain and cattle once you got far enough from the cities.″
So there were Eaters, Rudi thought. But not quite so mad and desperate, and with plenty of what my Southsiders would call clean settlements in the same territory. That was sparsely peopled land even before the Change, but it′s bleak, from what I′ve read and heard, and what little Mike Havel told.
The Indian went on: ″Nowadays they do pretty good up north, most years, but people remember just exactly how it was the neighbors pulled through. Lots of fights since over that. Preachers telling you it′s the way all the big Manitou wanted things to happen, that you′re not so bad; they get a hearing up there from some people.″
Ed Vogeler stirred his pipe′s bowl with a twig. ″You planning on taking the northern route down the Lakes and out the St. Lawrence?″ he said. ″It′s been done now and then, but . . . rough way to go. You haven′t got all that much time before freeze-up.″
″After freeze-up, we thought,″ Rudi said. ″Ingolf says it can be done.″
″I always said Ingolf had more balls than sense,″ the Sheriff said. ″Never was a Vogeler didn′t have guts, but brains, now . . .″
Ingolf stiffened and flushed a little, then made himself relax with an effort that only an expert eye could see. Rudi thought that Wanda Vogeler did detect it; her eyes rolled slightly ceilingward, and she sighed.
But her husband did not, despite being the man′s brother, he thought. The tact of a bull buffalo, to be sure.
Instead of barking a reply, Ingolf tossed back half his applejack and followed it with a sip of the coffee of roasted roots.
″Ed,″ he said mildly, and set the cup down with careful gentleness. ″There′s something you′re missing.″
″What?″ the older man said impatiently.
″Yah, yah, when I left Readstown I did have more balls than brains. But that was ten . . . no, more . . . years ago. I fought through the whole damn Sioux War as a paid soldier, and other places too, and then I went into salvage work. When I say salvage I′m not talking about a trip to Madison for some rebar or leaf springs, either. I′ve been all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back.″
″Yah, we heard, so?″
″And I′m still alive, Ed. When hundreds of poor brave dumb fucks I crossed paths with are well and truly dead. Pardon my French, Wanda.″
″I′ve heard the word, Ingolf.″
He inclined his head to her and went on to his brother: ″I saw them die, and I lived. My balls are doing fine, but my brains took over the thinking job a while ago. Or I would′ve taken my last trip through an Eater′s guts.″
After a moment the Sheriff′s head moved in a slow nod, and he studied his brother for a full minute, stroking his gray-streaked beard before he spoke.
″Point. But . . . yah hey, it′s easier to move on sleds over snow than on the roads the rest of the year, the way they′ve gotten wrecked. You can haul a lot more weight that way with the same horsepower—that′s why we move freight in the winter and do our lumbering then. And yah, yah, da lakes freeze—or at least enough of them does. But man . . . supplies!″
″It′s possible,″ Ingolf said. ″Going the southern route in winter, there′s too much mud and wet snow, most of the time—and we′re not going to wait until spring. Plus the Cutters had a river-galley waiting for us south of the Iowa border, if we tried to go up the Ohio. There are still just under a hundred of them at least, hard men, and they′ll jump us when they can.″
″Easier to move the supplies too, it would be,″ Rudi said. ″And the folk, on skis. From what Ingolf tells me, men on skis can travel three or four times as fast as those on foot—faster than men on horseback, unless they had a string of remounts each and left a trail of dead horses.″
″Yah,″ Ed Vogeler said. ″As long as you didn′t get caught in a storm for three weeks. Or run out of fodder for the horses pulling your sleighs. You can′t exactly buy hay and oats up there, most places.″
″Some places, if you know who to ask. I′ll go part way with them,″ Pete said, and the Sheriff gave him a surprised look.
″Not all the way,″ the Indian went on. ″Got my woman and kids here to think about. And I′m getting too old, not much good in a fight anymore. This is my home, now. But far enough to get ′em started.″
″It′s your life, Pete,″ his overlord said. ″Hmmm . . . youse could get big sleds built around here, convert your wagons maybe, and enough provender . . .″
He looked over at Wanda. Her square middle-aged face was tight with concern for her brother-in-law.
For him at least, Rudi thought. And the rest of us too, I think, even on short acquaintance. Mother would like her, I think, even if she talks a good deal. And I notice she′s been quiet here.
″Yah,″ she said, slowly and unwillingly. ″We could spare a lot.″ To Rudi: ″We keep a three-year rotating stockpile.″
″It was two, when I left,″ Ingolf said.
″Ed′s a careful man,″ his sister-in-law said. ″Und it′s easier since we′ve got the stuff for canning and pickling as much as we want now—lots of mason jars and good tight barrels and such. So we′re always running down the older part anyway, as we add new. And the out-farms do the same.″
″Enough, with some hunting,″ Pete said. ″As far as the midlakes. I don′t know much of what comes after, say, Duluth. Just that things get worse the farther east.″
Mathilda broke away from the long kiss. ″Spare my healing ribs, Rudi! And my reputation.″
Rudi ground his teeth silently; she hadn′t objected to his hands for quite some time, and the taste of her was upon his lips, along with that of the Sheriff′s excellent apple brandy, of which he′d had more than she in the long discussion. It was silent now in the guest quarters, past midnight and all others asleep. Mathilda saw the look despite the dim light of the passageway and smiled a little sadly, patting him on the cheek:
″Waiting like this isn′t easy for you, is it, poor lamb? Just you wait until we′re married, and you′ll never regret the witch-girls again!″
″That I won′t!″ he said, catching his breath.
Then he drew back a little, his hands on her shoulders. ″Matti . . . anamchara mine . . . are we betrothed? We haven′t said the words.″
Her smile died. ″Yes. Or at least I want us to be.″
″And myself also!″
The next kiss was long. He pulled away with difficulty, and remembered Associate custom. From one knee he spoke:
″But some things it′s better to say aloud. Mathilda . . . will you marry me, pagan clansman that I am?″
″Yes!″
She caught his head to her, and after a moment he felt a warm drop on it. When he rose, he touched a finger to the track of a tear.
″Why are you weeping, my heart?″
″Because I′m happy, you great gangling idiot! Because I can just be Mathilda and happy for an instant, not the Princess.″
Then she wrinkled her nose at him. ″And yes, I′ve thought about it carefully—the politics as well. If you weren′t going to be High King, it would be . . . harder. But I think Mother will approve. And I think the Cardinal-Archbishop will give us a dispensation. That′s just bargaining, though. I want you.″
″And me likewise. Now, when? Tomorrow? Perhaps a week? We′ve good Father Ignatius here, after all
—and my folk have no problem accepting a Christian marriage as valid. We can have a grand celebration when we′re home, when the war allows . . . but there′s no reason we should be apart the now.″
Her hands fell away from him, and the joy in her face faltered—as if the shadows that lay across them in the dim hallway had entered there.
″Rudi . . . we can′t get married here and now.″
″Why not?″ he said, and grinned. ″Besides the delightful prospects it raises, it would be better if you were my heir in law. Someone must lead our folk in Montival; and modesty aside, you′re the next best choice after me. For some of it, you′re better. I′m not immortal, and we′re in just a wee bit of danger, you might say.″
Her eyes fell. ″I . . . I can′t marry without Mother′s permission, Rudi.″ He felt a chill pass over his own happiness. ″As you said, she′ll be happy enough. For one thing, she cares little for the matter of our different faiths—″
Then he cursed himself as she winced; that was not something that Mathilda Arminger liked to remember about her mother.
″—and for another, the kingcraft of the thing will delight her. I wouldn′t be surprised if she hadn′t had something of the sort in mind!″
Mathilda nodded. ″She′s mentioned a dynastic marriage before. But . . . I may think I′ll get her permission, but I′m not sure . . .″
″Matti!″ He wagged a finger at her. ″It′s all our lives we′ve known each other, or nearly. Do you think I can′t tell when you′re making an excuse? And the same for Cardinal Maxwell!″
″Rudi—″ Her voice was half desperate. ″Rudi, if I′m your wife, we′ll have to sleep together.″
″And much else!″ Rudi said happily.
″I mean . . . it′s not really a marriage unless it′s consummated!″
″Acushla, my thought exactly!″
″You . . . you man!″ she said, and punched him on the chest; then winced when it jarred her healing arm. ″You single-minded tomcat! You—″
He took a step back and raised his hands; it wasn′t the first time a woman had said something of the same order to him, but it was a blunt surprise now.
″Matti, darlin′ girl, what′s the matter?″
″What happens, you idiot, when a man and a woman are together? Babies! Why do you call your goddess the Mother, Rudi? It′s not because she spanks you!″
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Yes, there′s that geasa, he thought unhappily. They think it′s wicked to prevent conception. And it′s a strong custom. Matti wouldn′t break it.
It was also a real impediment. They were just about to start a journey through some of the deadliest wilderness in the world, and in midwinter at that. They would certainly have to fight at times. Matti was a warrior of considerable skill—no great champion, but well above average for an Associate of her age and easily as good as, say, Odard. But she couldn′t swing a sword from behind a yard of pregnant belly.
Or ride quickly, or run and hide, or . . .
She saw his hesitation, and followed the blow with a prodding finger. ″And don′t tell me about the rhythm method. It′s good enough for home, but it doesn′t work all the time.″
To be sure not all methods of sharing pleasure lead to babies. But that would require a great deal of willpower. And that particular method is the crux of a marriage, to one of her faith; without it, there′s no true handfasting, no matter what the rites and ceremonies. It′s the thing that cannot be undone, to them.
″Do you think you′re the only one who′s tempted?″ she said angrily, her voice rising.
She shrugged off his hand as she turned her face to the wall. ″Don′t tempt me, Rudi. It′s so . . . it′s so hard to keep saying no! I don′t want to! But I have to do what′s right.″
″It′s truly sorry I am,″ Rudi said soberly.
Truly sorry, and very bewildered. And wishing you were a follower of the Old Religion, much more so than I ever have before.
She turned back to him and went on more softly: ″Rudi, I can′t chance being pregnant in the wilderness. I just can′t. I′m . . . scared of it. And what if . . . Mother had a very hard time with me. They had to cut! We nearly both died, and that was with all the doctors in the Protectorate on hand, and Mother couldn′t have more children.″
He winced. ″Matti, all that is as true as gold. But we′re going to be on this road a long time,″ he said unhappily. ″We′ve been a year and some months already, and we′re only three-quarters of the way! Matti, having the beauty of you there is going to be a torment, that it is. We′re betrothed now, not fancy-free.″
And it′s extremely awkward I would feel trying to take back the words. It′s ″yes″ I expected, or perhaps even ″no,″ but not ″yes, in two years!″
″I know,″ she said, and kissed him again. ″It′s hard for me too. We′ll make an offering of the pain, and when we′re married, it will be all the sweeter for the memory.″
He stared at her. ″Ah . . . Matti, I know that makes perfect sense to you, and as the Gods of my people witness, I respect it. There are many paths to the divine and they have their own rules; you can see it shining from Father Ignatius, and he′s not the only Christian I′ve met who was a holy man for all but the blind to see. But I′m not a Christian, you know, anamchara . My geasa are different. Sometimes I don′t think you realize quite how different, for all your time on the Clan′s land. And also a man and a woman are different in that way—″
This time she hit him in the pit of the stomach, where even a very strong man had no protection. The breath came out of him in an ooof; he wasn′t really winded enough to be helpless, but he did have to struggle with his half-paralyzed diaphragm for a moment.
″Rudi, I love you dearly, but sometimes you drive me crazy!″ she said in a rush. ″We′ll be married in Portland! When we get there! Now go away and come back when you′re . . . you′re civilized! Tomorrow! When you haven′t had so much to drink!″
The door closed; it almost slammed. Rudi clenched one big shapely hand into a fist and cocked it back as if he were going to punch it through the plaster-covered planks of the hallway′s wall.
″I drive you crazy, woman!″ he snarled—softly. ″Said the crow to the raven, what an exceeding blackness your feathers have!″
There were times when it was best to just walk away from a quarrel, even if you had just the telling word on your tongue—for example, the fact that her father had notoriously leapt on anything female that moved, and shaken most that weren′t to see if they were really shamming death, which was where he′d drawn the line. For that matter, Aunt Judy had told him the reason Sandra′s delivery of her daughter had been so hard had probably been that Norman Arminger had contracted a case of Aphrodite′s Measles from one of his numberless concubines.
Now that I can never say to her. It would be cruel. And perhaps she does know it, and it accounts for some of all this. I′m still angry enough to chew on nails, that I am!
At the end of the corridor he did kick the door; luckily it was a heavy thing of beveled oak planks. The pain in his toe made him want to punch the wall again. He stopped the motion with a slight snort of laughter at himself, and looked at the fingers of his right hand, wiggled them and sighed before making as if to kiss them.
″Not so fair and sweet as Mathilda are you,″ he murmured. ″Nor as dear to my heart, nor does the thought of you torment me with fair longings and warm dreams. But darlings, you′ve never said me no, have you the now?″
He was still trying to curb his thoughts as he took the staircase to his own room three steps at a time, sure-footed as a cat in the darkness.
Discipline your mind, Master Hao said. Easier to do when faced with a deathmongering evil magus than close to the sweet-scented curved warm pleasantness of my Matti! he thought. And I am not a Christian. To me this makes no sense at all!
He wasn′t a sworn virgin either, and hadn′t been a virgin of any sort since that pleasant night in Dun Meillin when h
e was thirteen; nor had he and Mathilda ever been formally betrothed . . . Until recently, when it just seemed to have sort of happened without any particular day at which you could point, and now he′d gone and made it explicit.
Still, with her eyes upon him twenty-four hours a mortal day, this trip had involved more imitation of monkish chastity than he′d ever desired or practiced. When you were the Chief′s son and tall and handsome and had a way with words, he hadn′t needed to, given Mackenzie belief and custom. For that matter, according to the Clan′s way of looking at things, if she didn′t want to lie with him she had no grounds for objecting if he lay with another.
From now on it was going to be far worse, because she would object, and most mightily, and by her lights with reason. If they were to be handfasted, he couldn′t just disregard any part of her beliefs he didn′t happen to like.
I don′t know how poor Father Ignatius does it. Or doesn′t do it, so to say. With fidelity after we′re handfasted I have no problem whatsoever; Mathilda′s all the woman a man could need, and more. With years of waiting, a great many problems . . . do arise, and arise, and arise, to coin a phrase! And from my time in the Association lands, I know a great many Catholic ladies aren′t as stiff-necked about such matters as Mathilda, either. She wouldn′t be the darling she is if she weren′t sincere, but oh, how I could wish it were otherwise!
The guest quarters of the Sheriff′s house were in a part that was all built post-Change, of honest brick and stone and timber; there were plenty of rooms, since a wealthy landholder and leader had to be able to extend hospitality to many. All the travelers who weren′t paired had one to themselves, with empty space besides in between for their gear; his was a story up and around a ninety-degree turn that put him in a different wing. They were all grateful, good friends as they mostly were, privacy and quiet had been in short supply for most of their trip.
He stopped suddenly as he came close; there was a leak of candlelight under the door, and he certainly hadn′t left one lit when he went down to dinner—nobody played carelessly with naked flame, if they had any sense at all.
The Sword of the Lady Page 33
