Well of the Unicorn

by Fletcher Pratt

  Wigrak raised a paper-white hand.

  "Patience," said he. "This is blood and treasure and more than we own and it is well to think each step. But here it is briefly—this day one month Mariupol city throws off the allegiance of Count Vulk and rises in arms. To you of the Iron Ring, we say—join us; this is the acceptable hour of the sword."

  Now there was tumult of a kind to make dim that over Airar's message, half the room on their feet and some of them shouting, so the girl stuck her head from the pantry, but when they took their places again, the prickle-beard man did not sit and he addressed the syndic:

  "That is the best of news to all who would see the Mountain cut down, but our guest has said somewhat of rules and rulers. Before we pledge heart and sword, I would know to whom."

  "Ha!" growled black Gallil, half under his breath. "A rat and a Whiteriverdalesman will never cross a bridge till it is paved with cheese," and Prickle-beard flushed, but Wigrak the syndic signed for the word:

  "That is a most fair question, frankly put, and will be answered in the same spirit. Mark you: has Dalarna a leader fit to stand in battle before the Vulking captains— Bordvin Wildfang or even the bloody Red Baron of Naaros? It was our failure at the Red Hills long ago that we had none; and since this matter will come to battle soon or late, the Mariupol guilds have sought champions where they might be found; to it, we have waged the Star-Captains out of Carrhoene to be our leaders, with sundry of their spears."

  Airar had heard of those five Star-Captains, each glorious as a trumpet-blast, and had any risen to shout at that word, he too over the thought they fought for Dalarna. But round the table only one or two stirred, looks were less joyous than those of lovers, Sir Ludomir tapped with his fingers, and Gallil scowled darkly, while the Korsor man cried, "What's the wage and who pays?" as he drank from his mug. But Wigrak rushed on like a man used to these checks:

  "All's not perfect; that I grant. I have consulted them myself. They're not our blood, something more than a little sly and greasy about them, and they'll want lordships in the land for their price besides driving so close a bargain for ready money that it made some of our guildsmen think twice. Moreover they sit not well with the Emperor himself; may give us trouble there as Vulk pipes the tune of loyal vassal. I grant all this, gentles, and much besides. But does a man cast adrift at sea bemoan the lack of pepper for the fish he catches? The devil of Briella's all too glad to have us meet him polite, reasonable, according to form. We shall lose nothing but our lives if we do. The worst that can be said for these Star-Captains is also the best—that in matters of war and cunning, 'tis they who have bepissed all the trees the Vulking dogs sniff at."

  A thrill of laughter went round the board and dark Gallil spoke out of it: "For the Dalecarles of Vastmanstad I say that I like this none too well. But here's no boy's game to run home from if the rules seem counter. Why else do we plot against Count Vulk in the long run, but to war? So I say, haro! Up with the banner of the Winged Wolf and out weapons, even behind the scrubbed pigs of Carrhoene. Who follows?"

  "I," cried one, "I for Hestinga!" The man from there, and Mountain-Rogai, looked round proudly, but Airar noted the voice failed to circle the table. As it weakened a man pretty well fed but with no definite mark of origin in dress or accent spoke out:

  "Gallil, all men know you for a generous heart, and you, Sir Syndic, are most urgent, but for me, I am not much taken by that word 'plot.' We of Shalland joined the Iron Ring to keep under the Empire old liberties hard won by our fathers behind King Argimenes in battle. How shall we do that if we revolt against the Emperor's Count under the Emperor's outlaw? For what shield have we against the heathen but the Empire and the Well?"

  Old Wigrak raised a finger as though to answer, but another was before him—merchant by his look and gold chain. "You are far from wrong there," said he, "and there's another leg to't as well. Mariupol lies on the very border, in some sense under the arm of the great Duke of Salmonessa, who will never see her down. But who's to protect us of Stavorna, pinched between Vulk's own hold of Briella and the pirates of the north? Nay, let's keep this Count for fear of a worser thing; but make him mend his manners. That's what our Iron Ring stands for."

  "Matters are somewhat far for that in Naaros city, where we slay archers," cried one, with a hard laugh at the end of it, and Wigrak looked up startled as though to ask a question, but once again another spoke first, a man as young as Rogai or Airar himself with long curled hair:

  "If I may be excused who come from Norby, where we have not all your southern tidings, here's a matter not altogether easy to understand. I was not there at the time of the Red Hills, but as my father has made the tale it was Mariupol city and her guilds in those days that first opened gates to the Vulkings, and not a blade lifted. How comes she so hot for battle and bloodshed now?"

  "Because," said the Korsor man, "it's bloodshed or beggary for them. Have you not heard my Lord Chancellor Lannoy's latest inspiration? He is setting up factories with Micton slaves at labor to match the Mariupol guilds in the wool staple of their own town."

  Eyes swung to Wigrak. "I will deny it," said .he. "Nor will you, if you look on the matter closely, deny either that what comes to Mariupol today is for Naaros—and aye, for Stavorna and all other cities tomorrow. For it is this Count's evident purpose to pass us through the iron ring of his making by one way or another. Why else all these taxes and sales in the countryside and men turned out of their fathers' steads, that are then grazed under gangs of slaves for owners who sir in the castle?"

  He swung to Gallil. "You, sir, are old enough to remember the first days of Vulking rule. How many free farmers in Vastmanstad now to what there were then? As for the admission of the Vulkings to the cities, there were some who thought then that it was ill done, I one of them. But we will not hide behind that, only ask if none of you have ever made a fault and been forgiven. For here is the hour when we must forgive all friends against the enemies of us all."

  Airar heard the murmur go round the board and thought the syndic had won them, but there was still the man in the fisher-jerkin, who stood up, wheezing in an accent that turned all his s's to z's.

  "I can't talk slick," he said, "to make it sound like I kiss your foot when I mean you kiss my behind. (Wuff, wuff.) So with vour presence, I'll just hit straight out like us free-fishers always do. It's just grand for a free-fisher to hear that the big men in the Mariupol guilds are friends of ours (puff)-, they never were till now, when they want somewhat. But old Count un sends us Doctor Meliboe to help when we got troubles with the sea-demons. (Whuff, puff.) But Count wants somewhat, too, un takes taxes from us, no lighter as he goes, so a man can hardly live. We'd help drown him in Naarmouth if we could get better, we would. But what this syndic wants (whoof) I just say is down with one Count, and give us five more, all stinking with Carrhoene perfume, and we just say no, we'll have none."

  He sat down. The fat man said, "Shalland will not rise. I could not persuade them."

  "Nor Korsor."

  "Nor the Whiteriverdales either, I fear."

  Rogai the hunter threw up a hand and let it slowly fall. "The old tale," said he. "Five Dalecarles in a room— on what will they agree? On how to cheat each other with the help of a Vulking who comes by the window." He turned to Wigrak. "Sir, there's your answer, and if 'twere better, I'd be a happier man."

  The syndic drew his furs round him with a delicate hand, touched his lips to his mug, and in that clear, penetrating voice, said: "Then there is nothing for us of Mariupol to do but draw out of all union with our own blood of Dalarna and submit ourselves to the great Duke Roger. You have heard me most courteously."

  He made to rise, but Sir Ludomir laid a hand on his arm. "No!" he cried, striking the table. "No! I, who am of more rank than any here, have kept silent so that all might fully expose their minds without hindrance, but now no more, since you are fallen at variance on a matter of mere words. Look, now; I'm of Gallil's advisement; would have chosen another ti
me and another leader, even another method, for I hold that the path this Count Vulk is following must one day bring him to the crossroads with the Empire. Yet that day may be late; and while we wait, he rots Dalarna with his taxes and his slaves. We must strike before the old edge rusts, nor shall there come again soon so fair a chance, with the money of these Mariupol men and the mercenary spears of Carrhoene to be of our service.

  "But you, Sir Syndic, I ask you to mark which delegates have said nay to your way—they're from the Whiteriverdales, Shalland, Norby, Stavorna city, Korsor —all the north. Suppose the war-arrow gone round and the bands risen— think, man, and tell me what your Star-Captains down at Mariupol could do if Vulk or his Marshal Bordvin sealed the passes of the Hogsback and threw their full strength on the raw levies just risen beyond the Naar? Yet, were Vastmanstad and Mariola in our hands and an army under a good captain marching up the stream, our campaign wears a fairer aspect. Does it not, Vard?"

  "I will not deny it," said the man from Shalland.

  "In God's name, Sir Wigrak, be not so hasty to leave us. The Iron Ring has given you all you could ask— save Rudr here and his free-fishers, and to him I say that this Doctor Meliboe on whose help he so much attaches is a confessed traitor to his own master by the mouth of his messenger here, so that he is like to have a plague of these sea-demons if he stands by the Mountain. Not that it should keep us from using him—any spade to dig a grave for Vulkings, say I—and I engage you, Gallil, to wait on this enchanter and know his full mind. But most of all I say war; rise; strike now, in the south and along the shore; but let even Hestinga withhold till we are sure of backing her. Is that the sense of all?"

  He looked round, gripped his mug:

  "The Ring!" he cried, lifting it, and they all stood with him, shouting, "The Iron Ring!" before they drank. There was now a general movement about and toward the door, with tongues clacking and no more notice taken of Airar, who presented himself to this Sir Ludomir, where he was talking with the fisher, and said, "Sir, all my life I have desired to bear a blade against Vulkings, that have been less than easy on my land and kindred. Will there be a place for me in this affray?"

  The knight looked him along. "I presume one might be found. Have you a skill?"

  "I am thought to be somewhat of a clerk."

  "The latter will be needed in Mariola if Bordvin Wild-fang takes the field against us—a rare man for enchantments and supersticerie. Go with Rogai."

  5 The Road: Change and Unchange

  THEY spent that night at the fur-market, where Rogai had business as a reason for being in Naaros. Airar Alvarson found his companion an easy and a friendly man, with a streak of masterful self-will cutting across underneath like a vein in marble—as when the son of Alvar mentioned his pack where he had left it, the dag and grimoire he had admired. For the pack Rogai would do nothing; the archers of the guard might have traced it down by then, he said, especially since Pertuit rejoined them not. Dag and grimoire he swore Airar should have and took one of his goldpieces, telling him to keep close in the lodging for fear of the Red Baron's searchers.

  A boresome day for Airar, therefore; a dozen times he counted the brass studs on the door, trying to make them fall into a pattern they would not, then fell to recalling the spell to put down sea-demons, but that made his head ache, so at last he gave it up and fell asleep on the bed in all his clothes. He dreamed troublously of a pool in a wood where white unicorns came down through a yellow twilight to water and it seemed to him that he never in his life before had known anything so precious as those unicorns; but someone shot a shaft into one. It fell kicking with an animal's wild scream and he woke through a wave of heartbreak to find Rogai shaking him.

  The man of Mariola had both book and dag, with food, as bread, wine, onions. There was an uneasy air in the town, he said, and talk of closing the gates for a day— not that anyone missed the archer Pertuit, who might have run from his service, but because of the rumors of uproar. Some said there was word of heathen raiders on the sea, and others spoke of movements among the forces disbanded at the composition of the war between Barbixana and Carrhoene among the Twelve Cities.

  "But that's moon-baying," Rogai went on, "and here's the truth: our friend, the Red Baron, has caught some inkling of the Iron Ring and puts out both tales himself the better to trace us down. That's not one born with his head in a blanket."

  Airar marvelled how one no longer in years than he could see a way though such complexities; himself would have believed either tale that came last or have been confused altogether, for among the plain farmers round Trangsted it had been accounted mean to bear tidings that were not true and few who did it were guested twice. "Will they not come searching in places of resort like this?" he asked.

  "Like enough, if Vanette-Millepigue chances on aught to make him think the trail's warm. . . ." He looked at Alvar. "You are clerk; could you not put a variance on our seeming?"

  Airar gazed at him, a little dull with sleep, wondering how to make clear for this young man to whom all enchantments were obviously one. True, he had a book now, but lacked all furniture; and the form-change magic always left him weak as a newborn lamb for two days after. "What's the purpose?" he said at last. "Do they look for you and men in special, or any that hold not by the Count? And if the second, what does the aspect matter?"

  "This—that if the Baron gets anything at all, it will be the whole tale. Too many know it; Bland of Skogalang's not altogether to be trusted, neither Siccald of Korsor— he drinks too much, loses his temper, and is like to fly off. A sharp catechizer could make him betray his hope of bliss to give law to a toss-pot senate. And I'm the Vulkings' daintiest morsel now, being of Mariola, the heart of this whole matter. Ha!"

  He stood up, unbelted, and threw his knife with a clatter in the corner. "Keep free of plots and politics, son of Alvar. It's try all and trust none and forever weariness of spirit. I could not believe less in men or more in the Devil if I were ninety."

  It came to Airar that perhaps he also rode the ridge of distrust and he said as much.

  "Since you drag that worm to daylight, what have we from you? Your story of dag and book is true enough; here they are to prove it, and all else you've said on your movements in Naaros will now stand, for 'tis on the unimportant details that liars fail. I've also seen those two sons of your grandfather with Leonce Fabrizius. But as to knowing gramary, there's only the bauble you wear on your finger and you yourself say the spell was put on it by another. So come, give me proof and set us free to travel, two things at one stroke as the hunter slew bear and bird."

  There was no resource but that Airar must then and there make his enchantment of shaping, though he warned it would not last beyond the twenty-fourth hour. He had to draw his pentagram with dust from behind the bed; when they clasped hands and the blue fires started, he was surprised to find Rogai shaking like a cat half-drowned so that he had to brace the book between the chests of the two of them and even then could barely read it to pronounce the dismissal spell. As Airar was no practised strong magician in any case, he had thought it well to call for the shape of an old woman for himself, and for his companion that of a grizzled peasant; and that was well as might be, since (so inexperienced Rogai) they both fell across the figure at the end and lay prone on the floor when there came a beating at the door.

  Airar did not have strength to do more for his life than reach out an arm partly to scuffle the pentagram. Rogai heaved himself up, but stumbled across his companion again as door came inward followed by an archer with a brutal red face and a bare shortsword in his hand; behind him the monitor of the fur-market guest house, wringing his hands.

  "Arrgh," said the first intruder. "Fool, why didn't you say you had nothing here but an old couple swiving it past their age?" and fetching the monitor a clout, banged the door to again with a final glance of disgust at Airar in his woman's form.

  "I cry your grace," said Airar, as Rogai gathered strength enough to help him to the bed. "I h
ad truly not thought the urgency of a search so close."

  "Nor I neither." The honest, grizzled peasant face was set with a frown. "There must be famous tidings to make the Red Baron do this. The merchants from the Twelve Cities will not like it—nor hesitate to say so, neither. It speaks sharp danger to our enterprise." He looked down. "Nor can I in this guise go forth for tidings."

  Still there was now no question but they must leave Naaros with the day, and after they had talked a little on this and that, Rogai praising his companion for the prince of clerks and wizards, they went to bed, Airar too weary for real sleep. They took the road at dawn as intentioned, Rogai mounting Airar on a donkey while he kept the horse on which he had come, riding somewhat awkwardly as he found muscle would not obey thought with a young man's speed.

  At the city gate the guard was double but gave them not a second glance, and Rogai laughed as the donkey stamped across the bridge, pulling rein to say to the seeming beldam beside him that the Vulkings, wondrous race! thought none but themselves could make a millstone look like a circle-cheese. But Airar, still muzzy with the backlash of his spell-working, only grunted as they took the coast road round the foot of Spanhavid mountain into the early sunlight, both chilly and Rogai a little impatient.

  It was neither market day nor market season, so they could have expected to meet few; and as a fact encountered almost none, only a shaggy highland farmer with a cart full of beechnuts for the nutbutter that makes Naaros famous. Of outgoers there was a South Mariolan shepherd in his long coat and curled cap, who rode past with his dog behind him, giving them the somewhat surly good-day of those people, who like to keep to themselves. A rabbit came out to look at them, but it scuttled away when the horse kicked a pebble; and that was the only sign of life by land save for the two passengers. It was almost as though some inkling of the Naaros governor's anger or coming disturbances had run surreptitious through the land to keep men and mice alike home-abiding; there was no sound but the beat of the cold blue sea, rimmed with white along the tumbling rocks below and to right, with the scream of an occasional gull—no sight but that and the trees, mixed beech and pine climbing the fronts and draws of Spanhavid to the left, outlining against the sky on some shoulder.