The White Hart

by Nancy Springer

  “I regret many things in my life,” he told his son, meeting his eyes, “and some of those you know, Trev.… But this is not one of them. Farewell, Megan; keep him in charge. Come, Love, let us go.” Alan put an arm around his Elf-Queen, and together they boarded the waiting ship.

  “Go with all blessing,” whispered Meg.

  Trevyn lifted the plank. The quickening ship swam away from the shore. Lysse and Alan settled themselves on the deck, waving in farewell. Trevyn returned the gesture with desolation in his heart. The elf-boat carried away his only kindred in Isle except for the son that stood, four-legged, at his feet.… Trevyn watched the lovely boat until it rounded the headland, then turned to Meg, laid his face in her hair, and wept. His love of this woman was part of the pattern; it was very good. But in spite of her love, hers and others’, Trevyn knew himself to be alone at his core, a naked thing joining earth and sky. Perhaps all men were so at the core. Being so alone, he had no way of knowing.

  “Even that weird white horse,” he muttered.

  The moon-marked steed had left him without a backward glance, once the journey was done, leaping craggy rocks and skimming the grass between, ineffably alone, like a swift spirit blown from the far, dark places between the stars. Trevyn shook his head ruefully at the memory, and Dair sprang up, placed massive forepaws on his chest. Trevyn caressed the smooth hollow between his eyes.

  “Very true, you’re still here,” he said. “And you’ll yet be yourself in human form, Dair; mark it.” He had seen that truth on an ancient woman’s loom in a valley above Celydon. A startling, regal face had looked back at him from Ylim’s web, a face with wide-set, feral, amethyst eyes, brows that met, nostrils that faintly pulsed—yet unmistakably the face of Dair, his son. But how would that youth come to him? When?

  “Trust the tides,” answered Meg, sensing his thoughts.

  Trevyn and his bride spent the night on the shore, clinging together for warmth of more than body. In the morning they started back toward Laueroc, where liegemen and vassals awaited their King. Glancing behind him for one last look at the Bay, Trevyn noted a shimmer of white beneath the deepest green shadows of the firs. A unicorn stood there, watching him go.

  I am the son.

  I am the steadfast son,

  I am the son of earth.

  I am hazel roots,

  I am red dragons,

  I am robin and wren,

  I am strong magic.

  I am the eagle,

  I am the soaring son,

  I am the son of sky.

  I am wings of wind,

  I am a golden wheel,

  I am a warrior,

  I am the circle dance,

  I am the song.

  I am the swan,

  I am the wandering son,

  I am the son of sea.

  I am changing eyes,

  I am green shadow,

  I am between the stars,

  I am the stars.

  I am the star-son.

  I am the son.

  I am a crescent moon.

  I am a rustle of padded paws,

  I am a seed in the earth,

  I am a dewdrop.

  I am a hidden jewel,

  I am a dream,

  I am a silver harp.

  I am a fruit on the Tree,

  I am a beast of curving horn,

  I am a swollen breast,

  I am the argent moon,

  I am soft rain,

  I am rivers of thought,

  I am sea tides,

  I am a turning wheel.

  I am the waning moon.

  I am the mare who rides men mad,

  I am the sable moon.

  I am the howl of the wolf,

  I am the hag,

  I am the flood of destruction.

  I am the ship that rides the flood,

  I am the crescent moon.

  I am the dark, bright, changing moon.

  Festivals

  Old Style—Feasts of Fires

  1 November—for repose of dead

  2 February—in honor of the Mothers

  1 May—for purification

  2 August—for harvest

  New Style—Festivals of the Sun (Eastern reckoning)

  21 December—Winterfest, a gifting time in honor of the Sacred Son

  22 March—Glainfest, a vernal observance

  24 June—Bowerfest, for the Oak King

  22 September—Cornfest, for threshing

  Eastern Kings

  Herne

  Hervyn

  Heinin

  Hent

  Iuchar

  Idno

  Iscovar

  Iscovar’s supposed son, Hervoyel,

  later reigned as Hal of Laueroc

  Glossary of Names

  ADAOUN: father of all the elves, creation of the First Song of Aene.

  AENE: not, strictly speaking, a name, but the elfin term translatable as “the One”: a power neither good nor evil, female nor male, but all of each.

  ALAN: Sunrise King, Hal’s brother and longtime companion, Trevyn’s father.

  ALBERIC: Trevyn’s true-name or elfin name, meaning “a ruler of elfin blood,” but comprising many opposites.

  ALYS: the most inclusive name of the Goddess of Many Names, the earth-mother, moon-mother, maiden, and hag.

  ARUNDEL: Hal’s horse, who harked from the Eagle Valley of the elves.

  BAY OF THE BLESSED: the estuary of the Gleaming River, where Bevan set sail for Elwestrand and Veran landed; where the elves took ship, and Hal, the last of Veran’s line.

  BEVAN: son of Celonwy, the moon goddess, and Byve, High King in Eburacon before the sack of that city. A star-son.

  CELONWY: the moon-mother or Argent Moon, one phase of the great goddess. Within the history of Isle, Bevan’s mother.

  CELYDON: the Forest Island of Many Trees. Rosemary’s home.

  CORIN: in the wandering days, Alan’s comrade. Later, lord of Nemeton.

  CRAIG THE GRIM: onetime outlaw, later lord of Whitewater.

  CREBLA: Wael’s true-name, an anagram of Trevyn’s own.

  CUERT: Prince of Laueroc who fled with Veran to Welas.

  CUIN: Alan’s distant ancestor, Bevan’s comrade, first High King of Laueroc.

  CULEAN: the last High King of Laueroc. Killed himself with Hau Ferddas at the time of the Eastern invasion.

  DAIR: an elfin name referring to the oak, for strength. Trevyn’s son.

  DEONA: Alan’s great-great-grandmother, reared in Welden, through whom the blood of the. Cuin found its way back to Laueroc. Cuert’s granddaughter.

  DOL SOLDEN: elfin for The Book of Suns, Veran’s account of the prophecies of Aene.

  Duv: an ancient name of the great mother, the goddess.

  EAGLE VALLEY: inaccessible valley where Hal and Alan found the elves, on Veran’s Mountain.

  EBURACON: the ruined city of Bevan and Byve, surrounded by Forest and haunt.

  ELUNDELEI: moon mountain, mountain of eagle vision, Mount Sooth. On Elwestrand.

  ELWESTRAND: the elves’ strand or the western land, a magical island beyond the sunset.

  ELWYNDAS: Alan’s elfin name, meaning elf brother, spirit brother, Elf-Friend.

  EMRIST: a Tokarian magician.

  FRECA: the name Trevyn was given in Tokar, elfin for “Brave One.”

  GWERN: alder-son and son of earth; Trevyn’s wyrd.

  HAL: Sunset King, Very King, healer, bard and seer, Alan’s brother and fellow ruler at Laueroc.

  HAU FERDDAS: elfin for Mighty Protector, Peace-Friend. The magical sword of Lyrdion, dangerous in its own right and darkened through the ages by the deeds of the men who used it.

  HERNE: first of the Eastern Kings; invader of Isle.

  ISCOVAR: Hal’s purported father, the last of the hated Eastern kings who ruled at Nemeton.

  ISLE: a water-ringed land that stands as a rampart between Elwestrand and the shadowed east.

  KET THE RED: onetime outlaw, l
ater seneschal of Laueroc.

  LAUEROC: originally, Laveroc—that is to say, City of Meadowlarks. Founded by Cuin; longtime home of the High Kings. Later, court city of the Sun Kings.

  LEUIN: seventh lord of Laueroc under the Eastern kings. Alan’s father; Hal’s actual father.

  LYRDION: an isolated ruin along the northwest coast of Isle, once home of a dragon-king and his dragon-lords.

  LYSSE: Alan’s wife, Trevyn’s mother. An elf and a seeress.

  MAEVE: Emrist’s sister; also an aspect of the goddess.

  MARROK: Herne’s sorcerer.

  MEGAN: Trevyn’s beloved; also, the maidenly aspect of the goddess.

  MELIDWEN: a name for the Goddess of Many Names, applied to her aspect as maiden and crescent moon.

  MENWY: Goddess of the Sable Moon, better known as the Black Virgin of the Gypsies.

  MIRELDEYN: Hal’s elfin name, meaning “Elf-Man, Elf-Master.”

  NEMETON: a city near the mouth of the Black River where the Eastern Kings, the invaders, ruled.

  PEL BLAGDEN: the Mantled God, Lord of the Dead, whom Bevan vanquished.

  RAFE: Hal’s friend and captain, later lord of Lee.

  RHEGED: king of Tokar.

  ROBIN: Hal’s companion and Corin’s foster brother, later lord of Firth.

  ROSEMARY: Hal’s wife, the Lady of Celydon.

  TOKAR: a country to the eastward of Isle, separated from it by the southern sea.

  TREVYN: Alan’s son, Prince of Isle and Welas, heir of the Sun Kings.

  VERAN: a scion of Bevan, called back to Isle from Elwestrand; the first of the Blessed Kings of Welas.

  VERAN’S MOUNTAIN: the tallest mountain in Welas, on top of which nestles the Eagle Valley, where the elves lived.

  WAEL: a sorcerer, high priest of the Wolf cult, enemy of Isle. Formerly Waverly.

  WAVERLY: Iscovar’s sorcerer and chamberlain.

  WELAS: the western portion of Isle, beyond the Gleaming River, where a different language is spoken.

  WELDEN: the Elde Castle, founded by Veran upon the Gleaming River; court city of the Blessed Kings.

  WYNNDA: the immortal white winged horse that served Adaoun.

  YUM: an immortal weaving seeress.

  Glossary of Terms

  Amaranth: a reddish-purple flower that never dies.

  Asphodel: a white, lilylike flower that grows only in magical climes.

  Athane: the black-handled sword used by sorcerers for sacrifice and for tracing the mystic circle.

  Elf-ship: a graceful, gray, sailless boat made of living wood, moving swiftly and of its own volition, homing to Elwestrand. Attributed to elves, but actually first created and ridden by Bevan.

  Elwedeyn: an adjective describing something of the old order—loosely, elfin.

  Hollow hills: the raths where the gods lived after they gave up the sunlit lands to the Mothers of men and before they followed Bevan to the Blessed Bay, where they became shades.

  Laifrita thae: elfin for “sweet peace to thee”; a greeting.

  Mandorla: the mystic almond, the shape where two circles overlap. An emblem of the union of opposites.

  Mothers: the mortal women who succeeded the Mother Goddess Duv and her children, the gods.

  Plinset: a Welandais stringed musical instrument.

  Sister-son: in the old style of reckoning descent through the woman, a man’s heir.

  Star-son: a wanderer from Otherness; a stranger in the midst of men who later leaves them.

  Veran’s crown: a healing flower, very rare after the Eastern invasion. Also called Elfin Gold, Veran’s Balm.

  Wyrd: the fate within, the dark twin, the rival.

  The Black Beast

  Prologue

  I am Daymon Cein, the ancient seer. Now I am only a voice from the beyond, a twittering, formless thing, but once, long ago, when I was a man, I slept under the White Rock of Eala and gained vision where other men might have gained death. It was a foolhardy venture and without real reward, for I soon found fame worthless. But that is an old fool’s talk.… Later, my daughter Suevi married Abas, the Sacred King in Melior. She bore him a son, Tirell. I watched from afar, with the inner eye, as I watched all whom I loved—all of Vale, in fact. And one chilly autumn night I saw a strange thing.

  Little Prince Tirell was only five years old at the time. His nursemaid had checked his bed and seen him safe under the wolfskin coverings. But later he got up and wandered through the corridors between lifeless guards that stood ranked at every turn, remains of kings and queens, generations and generations of them, slain at the high altar of the goddess. The dead kept watch constantly at Melior castle, in erect stone coffins with carved faces, clenched hands, and white, staring eyes. Not many people cared to roam that place alone after dark. But Tirell was fearless, even then, and a fire burned in him that would not let him rest. His bare fingers and toes served him for guidance where there was no light. He was seldom caught, for he was clever and knew every turning of the ancient walls.

  On that night he found his way easily, because the moon was bloated and orange as barley. Orange light fell from the high window slots to the cold floors. Tirell shivered along, not knowing what he was looking for any more than the rest of us.… Then more light appeared, orange torchlight! Tirell approached with interest and caution like a cat’s. He knew that everyone but the sentries should have been asleep, but two cloaked figures flitted toward his mother’s chamber.

  Now for half a year past Suevi the queen, my daughter, had kept to her rooms, seeing almost no one. Of course, Tirell was allowed to come to her. There would be a baby, she told him. He knew as well as I did that the lump under her gowns was a pillow. He sat on her lap and he could tell. But perhaps others were fooled. Tirell kept his peace; what did he know of the royal way of getting babies? And on that autumn night he heard the baby whimpering. One of the cloaked figures carried it tenderly. The other held a torch and knocked softly at the queen’s door.

  Somebody let them in; Tirell could not see who. As soon as the heavy door swung closed he scampered to the timbers to listen. He could hear his mother’s voice. “He’s in good health? Very well, then, here is gold for your silence. There will be more. See the King …” Then the door creaked and Tirell slipped away into the shadow of the next sarcophagus. From behind it he peeped and watched the visitors depart. They were Fabron, the King’s smith, and his wife; Tirell saw them as plainly as I. The woman was silently weeping and twisting her long red hair.

  Tirell went back to his bed and lay puzzling. The next morning his nurse woke him with a face wreathed in smiles. “Come, my young lord, and see! Your lady mother has something to show you!” The lad pulled on his clothes and silently followed her to the queen’s chamber, but he was not much surprised by what he found there. Suevi lay on her couch with her red-black hair pulled back from her pale, passionate face—she was always a hilltop creature, she! Beside her in a velvet basket lay a ruddy, hairless mite. Tirell stared without speaking at the tiny, frowning face.

  “Your new brother,” Suevi told him. “Are you not glad?”

  “Yes,” Tirell answered softly, “glad enough,” and he gave the baby a friendly poke. His new brother was called Frain, and Tirell stood by at the naming ceremony when the priestesses touched the baby with their long knives. Never a word did he say, to his mother or to anyone else, of what he had seen in the night.

  Book One

  FRAIN

  Chapter One

  I am Frain. I was only fifteen years old when I first heard of Mylitta, and within a few days the doom of Melior had begun. All has changed now; Melior is a memory and I am a swan on the rivers of Ogygia. But I think I am not much wiser.

  Tirell was in the habit of wandering in the night, then as always. We shared a tower chamber, and sometimes when I did not feel too sleepy I joined him. I liked to hear him talk. It was better than dreaming.

  One night, though, I woke up out of a sound sleep to see him on his way out of the window. H
e was hoisting himself up to the high stone sill by his hands, his feet dangling. I jumped out of bed, naked as a rabbit, and grabbed him by the knees.

  “Are you mad?” I yelled.

  “It runs in the family, does it not?” he snapped as he fell. “Let me up, you great oaf!” I had sat on top of him.

  “Not if you are planning to climb down there,” I told him. “Have some sense, Tirell! It must be a hundred feet to the cobbles, and the ivy is old and sparse.”

  “So what am I to do?” he shouted passionately. “Ride out by the main gates and take the guards to my wooing?”

  “By our great lord Aftalun,” I sighed, “are there not enough maids within the walls that you must woo one without? I think—” But he did not wait to hear what I thought. He threw me off. Tirell was slender, not much heavier than I even though he was five years older, but when he was truly angry I believe no one could stand against him. We grappled for a moment, and then I went flying and hit my head against the wall.

  He could have gone to his wooing then. I heard him pacing around, but I couldn’t move or see. He lit a rushlight, got a soggy cloth, and started dabbing at some blood behind my ear. “Go to,” I muttered, shoving his hand away, and I managed to sit up.

  “If you are all right,” Tirell said quietly, “I will be off.”

  “Then I will be off too, by way of the gates, and you will have me and a troop of guards for company.” I can be angry too, and Tirell knew he was beaten for the time. He cursed and flopped down on the floor where he was.

  “I was going to say, before I was interrupted,” I told him after a while, “that we could get a rope.”

  “If I could get a rope in the middle of the night,” Tirell responded sourly, “I would have tied you up long ago. They’re all over at the armory with the scaling ladders and things.”

  “So we’ll get one tomorrow, and you can go tomorrow night. Surely the girl will last till then?” I looked at his lean, unhappy face and felt my anger melt, as always. “She must be a marvel,” I added softly. “What is her name?”

  Tirell sighed and gave in to peace. “Mylitta is her name,” he answered quietly.