by Jack Vance
Duke Luhalcx said shortly: “I have heard your remarks and I will give them due attention. One final matter which preys on my mind: the safety of my spouse, the Lady Chraio.”
“I have no knowledge of her. If she were captured, I am sure that she has been treated no less courteously than you would deal with a captive Ulfish woman.”
Duke Luhalcx grimaced, bowed and, turning away, rejoined Duke Ankhalcx and Tatzel. For a few minutes they stood looking across the battlements, then turned and went off in the direction they had come.
During the late afternoon, a dense purple-gray overcast rose from the west to obscure the sun, and early twilight settled over Xounges. The night was totally dark and brought torrents of rain at irregular intervals, which dwindled as dawn tinted the sky with a wet glow the colour of eggplant.
Two hours into the morning, the rain had become a misty drizzle, and the sky showed signs of clearing for the coronation later in the day. Aillas came running up from the harbour: through the tunnel, along cobbled passages, across the market square, now deserted, and entered Jehaundel by the massive front portal.
In the foyer Aillas gave his wet cloak into the care of a footman, then set off down the main gallery. From the great hall came Tatzel, where she had been observing preparations for the coronation. She saw Aillas, hesitated, then came forward, looking neither right nor left. Aillas felt a pang of deja vu; once again he stood in the gallery at Castle Sank, with Tatzel marching toward him, unheeding of all save her private thoughts.
Tatzel approached, her eyes fixed on a point far down the gallery; clearly Aillas was not in her good graces. For a moment Aillas thought that she might pass him by without speaking, but at the last instant she came to a grudging halt, and swept him up and down with a quick cool glance. “Why do you look at me so oddly?”
“A peculiar mood came over me. I fancied myself back at Castle Sank. I still feel the chill.”
Tatzel’s drooping mouth twitched. “I am surprised that you are still here. Is not the ship’s captain anxious to put to sea?”
“He has decided to delay sailing for still a day or so, which allows me time to finish my business.”
Tatzel looked blank. “I thought that you came here to bring me to my father.”
“That, for a fact, was one of my purposes. Then, King Gax has graciously allowed my attendance at today’s ceremony, which will certainly be a historic occasion, and I would not care to miss it.”
Tatzel gave an indifferent shrug. “It does not seem all that important to me, but perhaps you are right. Now I must go and make my own preparations, though no one will be paying attention to me.”
“Perhaps I will watch you,” said Aillas. “The expressions of your face have always intrigued me.”
V
RAIN CONTINUED INTO THE AFTERNOON, sweeping down upon Xounges from a sky of black gloom: rattling on the tiles, hissing into the slategreen waters of the Skyre.
Within the great hall of Jehaundel, a dank half-light entered through high narrow windows. Four great fires cast a more cheerful glow, which which was augmented by a series of wall-sconces.
A dozen gonfalons, representing the glory of Old Ulfland, hung on the stone walls, their colours faded, the deeds they celebrated now forgotten; still, the sight of the ancient standards brought moisture to many eyes among those Ulfs who had come to witness the coronation of the new king-a transition which all felt must extinguish the last remaining sparks of ancient honour.
In addition to the lords of the great old houses, there were present a company of lesser nobility, as well as a party of eight Ska, standing austerely to the side, the ambassadors of Godelia and Dahaut, and a group from the Troice warship.
A pair of middle-aged heralds blew fanfares; Sir Pertane, the High Chancellor, called out: “I announce the imminent arrival of His Majesty, King Gax!”
Six footmen carried in a platform supporting a throne in which sat King Gax. By a ramp the footmen mounted to a low dais, lowered the platform and departed. King Gax, wearing a robe of red plush trimmed with black fur, and wearing the crown of North Ulfland over a red cap, raised a fragile hand to the company. “I bid you all welcome. Be seated, those who so desire; those who prefer the support of their feet to that of their haunches: let them stand.”
A shifting and a murmur stirred the company.
King Gax spoke again. “Death has come to knock at my door. I am loath to let him enter my house; he is said to be a pertinacious guest. Hark! I hear his knock even now! Can others hear this sound, or does it tap-tap-tap for my ears only? No matter, no matter; but still I must do a last deed before I receive my caller.
“Notice all! I wear the ancient crown! Once it spoke loud of glory and place! This was the crown of Ulfland, when ours loomed large among the states of the Elder Isles! Then there was no ‘North’ and no ‘South’ to our land; it united all the west of Hybras, from Godelia to Cape Farewell! Today I wear a symbol of helplessness and defeat. My realm extends only as far as the sound of my voice. The Ska have conquered our land, and made a wilderness where folk once tilled the soil of their farmsteads.”
King Gax gazed around the room. He pointed a white finger. “There stand the Ska. Duke Luhalcx advises me to abdicate in favor of Duke Ankhalcx. Duke Luhalcx knows our ancient laws and his candidate is at hand. Duke Luhalcx argues that by naming a Ska ruler I do no more than legitimize actuality.
“Luhalcx argues with a good voice, but others have argued with voices even better. They assert that if the crown passed not to the Ska but to the present King of South Ulfland, then once again the land would be joined under a rule which is committed to expulsion of the Ska and restoration of the old order. These arguments are compelling, as in South Ulfland there is already a new sense of pride and adequacy. South Ulfish forces have already dealt hard blows to the Ska, and are only just starting to bring their power to bear.
“Such arguments cannot be ignored. The same head that wears the crown of South Ulfland shall wear this crown which now graces my unworthy old head.”
Duke Luhalcx cried out in a passion: “The ceremony is void unless the South Ulfish king is on hand to receive the crown from your head, and by your hand! You have cited the law yourself!”
“Indeed I have done so. We will go through the form. Sir Pertane, utter your summons!”
The High Chancellor called out to the company: “Where is he whom Gax, King of North Ulfland, has commanded to appear before him? I refer in specific, to Aillas, King of Dascinet and Troicinet, Scola and South Ulfland. Let him announce himself if indeed he is present.”
Aillas stepped forward and approached the dais. “I am here.”
“Aillas, will you accept from me this crown of our mutual ancestors, and wear it with all possible honour?”
I will do so.”
“Aillas, will you defend this land against its enemies and meanwhile nurture the weak and succor the impoverished? Will you guard the lamb from the wolf, restore the waif to its parent, and give the same justice to high and low alike?”
“I will do all these, so far as I am able.”
“Aillas, will you conduct yourself in full kingly fashion, eschewing both gluttony and venery, and restraining the cruel display of your wrath, and ever let mercy temper your justice?”
“I will do all these, insofar as I am capable.”
“Aillas, come forward.” Gax kissed Aillas’ forehead and Aillas saw that tears were streaming down the haggard cheeks. “Aillas, my son, and I wish that you were my son indeed, you have made me a happy man! In joy I tender you this crown and place it on your head. You are now Aillas, King of Ulfland, and let none in all the world dispute my decree! Druids, where are you? Come forth and sanctify this deed to Cronus the Father, to Lug the Bright, and to Apollo the Wise.”
From the shadows came a gaunt man in a hooded brown robe. Around Aillas’ neck he hung a necklace of red holly berries, then crushing a berry in his fingers, he rubbed it on Aillas’ cheeks and forehead, meanw
hile chanting in a tongue incomprehensible to Aillas. Then, with no further ritual, he returned to the shadows.
Sir Pertane called out in a sonorous voice: “Let all know that, by the laws of this land, here stands the new King of Ulfland, and let none be at confusion in this regard! Heralds, go forth about the city and announce this great glad news!”
The footmen, at a signal from Gax, came forward and lifting the platform carried him from the room.
Aillas went to sit in a chair on the dais. “Gentlemen and ladies: for the moment I can tell you this. In South Ulfland we have already made life somewhat better for gentility and commoner alike. Our navy controls the Narrow Sea; where the Ska once sailed out like pirates, now they dare not leave port. On land we will continue our successful tactics; we shall inflict casualties upon the Ska while taking as few as possible ourselves. This is a kind of warfare which they cannot support, and sooner or later they must draw back to the Foreshore. Luhalcx, you have heard me; I make no secret of our strategy. You have never blenched at the sight of Ulfish blood; prepare yourself for the colour of your own Ska blood! Would you send a grand army south to take my town Doun Darric? Do so! You will find the town empty, with all the troops pillaging your Foreshore, so that not a single Ska house is left standing. Then we will turn south and meet you, and harass your army as hounds bait a bear, and very few of you will win back to Skaghane.”
“That is a grim prediction.”
“It is only the start. Troice warships now sail the Narrow Sea as easily as they do the Lir. Presently the raids on Skaghane will begin: smoke will rise from this town and that, and again and again, to your despair. Take my advice and end your rapacity!”
“I will convey your message to my peers.”
“Truly I hope that they will be swayed by my words. As for your stay here in Xounges, be at comfort. You came as guests; you may leave as guests, at your own best convenience. And when you describe these events to your fellows, I hope that you will stress my prediction: to the effect that, unless they renounce their ancient obsession, as I have renounced my revenge against you, they will know great grief.”
“King Aillas, we are accustomed to grief.”
Looking beyond Duke Luhalcx, Aillas took note of Tatzel standing somewhat apart. He looked into her pale face, and for a moment was urged to cross the room to speak to her. Certain of the Ska moved so as to cross his line of vision and block her from his view; he turned away, and went, rather, to Gax’s bedchamber, where he thought that he might sit in company with the old man.
Arriving at the royal suite he knocked at the door, which was opened by Rohan. Aillas spoke quietly: “I came to sit with King Gax, if he is not too tired after the ceremony.”
“Sire, you are not in time. King Gax will never tire again; he is dead.”
VI
AILLAS SPENT THREE BUSY DAYS in Xounges. He participated in ceremonies of gloomy pomp, to the braying of druid horns at the funeral of King Gax; he reorganized the system of guards and sentries, and tried to appoint Rohan as his viceroy, without success. “Appoint Sir Pertane to this post,” said Rohan. “He has been more than faithful to King Gax and is a great one for place and status. He is also indecisive and even a trifle dull; instruct him, therefore, that I will direct policy and that he must follow my instructions, which will trouble him not at all.”
“In short order I hope to base three or four companies of good troops here at Xounges. Since we can attack anywhere along the Skyre, the Ska will know great anguish and trouble in defending themselves. In this region they are obviously much over-extended; they must either commit two or three battalions to guard the Skyre and the river Solander, and perhaps even Lake Quyvern, or they must retreat from this entire area, and then the road to Poelitetz comes under our attack. If they send their battalions here, they weaken themselves elsewhere. No matter how valiant they are, they cannot defend so large a territory from an enemy who will not fight them in the manner they prefer.”
“I am convinced that you are right,” said Rohan. “For the first time in many years I see a glimmer of hope for us. Be assured that in your absence, Xounges will be guarded. Further, I suggest that you send a military commission here, to train our men so that they may take their place in your army. Our years of passivity are at an end.”
In the early morning Aillas sailed from Xounges. Rounding Tawny Head, the warship sailed south down the Narrow Sea, encountering only another Troice ship along the way, the Ska now making their passages by night.
Aillas left the ship at Oaldes and, taking horse, rode at speed to Doun Darric, where he received a great welcome from Sir Tristano, Sir Redyard, and others of his staff, who, after three weeks, had become much concerned by his absence.
“I assured them of your safety,” said Sir Tristano. “I have an instinct in this regard; it told me you were off on some remarkable adventure. Was my instinct correct?”
“Absolutely!” Aillas reported the events which had taken him so far afield, to the fascination of his audience.
“We can in no way match your tale,” said Sir Tristano. “Nothing of note has occurred since the taking of Suarach. We now range into North Ulfland at will, alert for cheap victories, but these are hard to come by, since the Ska no longer venture abroad in small parties.” He brought out a packet. “These are the despatches from Domreis, which, in your absence, I have taken the liberty to read. There is one which I find somewhat mysterious. It is signed ‘S-T’, which would seem to indicate Sion-Tansifer, but the words are not his.”
“That is how Yane keeps his invisibility. If the despatch is intercepted and something in it is discreditable or off-colour, then Sion-Tansifer gets the blame.” He read the despatch:
The cog Parsis, sailing from Lyonesse Town, has arrived at Domreis. The passengers include a certain Visbhume, who would appear to be a sorcerer of no great force, and also a spy in the service of King Casmir. Once before he came over on the Parsis, and put many sly questions regarding Dhrun and Gfyneth, to Ehirme and other members of her family, regarding which they have only recentily informed me. Visbhume now has taken himself to the village Wysk, near Watershade, where he roams the forest, purportedly in search of rare herbs. He is being kept under surveillance, but something bulks below the surface and the bodes are not good. Casmir of course is at his striving, but who stands behind Casmir? I am tempted to suggest that you come home, preferabfy in company with Shimrod. S-T
Aillas reread the despatch, frowning at every word. He looked to Sir Tristano: “Have you seen Shimrod?”
“Not recently. Were you expecting to find him here?”
“No. … It appears that I must return to Domreis at all speed. When terriers bark, one may ignore them. When the old hound bays, then one leaps for his weapons.”
VII
THE WARSHIP PANNUC arrived at Domreis harbour on the morning of a sunny summer day and tied up at a dock hard under the walls of Miraldra. Without waiting for the gangway, Aillas jumped ashore and ran up into the castle. He found the seneschal Sir Este dozing in the chamber off the great hall which he used for his office.
Sir Este jumped to his feet. “Your Highness, we had no word of your coming!”
“No matter. Where is the Prince Dhrun?”
“He has been gone three days, sir: out to Watershade for the summer.”
“And the Princess Glyneth?”
“At Watershade as well.”
“And Sir Yane?”
“He is somewhere about the castle, sir, or perhaps in the town, Or he might be at his estate. In truth, I have not seen him since yesterday.”
“Search him out, if you please, and send him to my chambers.”
Aillas bathed in hastily provided ewers of warm water and changed into fresh garments. When he came out into his parlour, he found Yane waiting for him. “At last!” said Yane. “The far-ranging king returns, preceded by startling rumor.”
Aillas laughed and threw his arms around Yane’s shoulders. “I have much to tell
you! Would you be surprised to learn that I am now King of all Ulfland, in full formality? And no doubt to a bitter griping of Casmir’s royal bowels. No? You are not surprised?”
“The news came two days ago by pigeon.”
“I have other surprises still! You remember Duke Luhalcx of Castle Sank?”
“I remember him well.”
“You will be pleased to learn that I twisted his nose in a most satisfying style! He now rues the day that he offended Cargus, Yane and Aillas!”
“Now there is fine news indeed! Tell me more!”
“I captured the Lady Tatzel and took her across the moors as my slave. Had I bedded her as she expected, she would have hated me as an insolent brute. I gave her back to her father untouched and now she hates me even more.”
“Such is the nature of the female race.”
“True. I expected effusive thanks and tears of joy and invitations from Tatzel, but I had none of these: only a surly ingratitude. More urgently, what of your bodes and premonitions which brought me home at such haste? Evidently they have come to nothing!”
“Not so! Nothing has changed, and I feel imminence as heavy as before.”
“All on account of the sorcerer Visbhume?”
“Exactly so. He excites my deepest suspicions. He is Casmir’s agent: so much is incontrovertible, even though the facts lead to more mysteries.”
“And what are the facts?”
“Three times he has visited Haidion, where he was favoured with immediate audiences. He came to Troicinet aboard the Parsis and made careful inquiries in regard to Dhrun and Glyneth, and took the news back to Casmir. Recently he came again aboard the Parsis and at this moment sojourns in a village not ten miles from Watershade. Now do you understand my suspicion?”
“Not only do I understnd it; I share it. He is still at Wysk?”
“He lodges at the Cat and Plough: needless to say, under surveillance. Sometimes he studies a book with leather covers; sometimes he rides in an absurd little pony cart; sometimes he walks out into the forest, searching for rare herbs. The village girls give him a wide berth; he is always after them to cut his hair or rub his back or sit on his lap and play a game he calls ‘Pouncing Ferrets’. When they will not go into the woods to hunt herbs with him, he becomes peevish.”
