The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  “Emmy can explain it,” Eliar told him. “Emmy can explain anything.”

  “What are you people doing?” Andine demanded crossly, coming into the light. “How am I supposed to sleep with all this noise going on out here?”

  “We were just getting to know our latest recruit, Andine,” Althalus replied.

  “This?” she said, looking disdainfully at Gher. “Is this the best we can do?”

  “All shall be revealed in time,” Bheid said with mock piety.

  “Go preach your sermons someplace else, Bheid,” she flared. She looked Gher up and down. “Did he crawl out from under a rock, perhaps? Or did he just come slithering out of the nearest cesspool?”

  “Do I have to take that from her, Master Althalus?” Gher demanded with a certain heat.

  Turn him loose, Althalus, Emmy’s voice whispered.

  Won’t that make the rest of the night a little noisy? he objected.

  Just do it, pet.

  Whatever you say, Em. Althalus looked at the boy. “Feel free to respond, Gher. Brace yourself, though. Our beloved Andine has an expressive—and penetrating—voice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Andine demanded, her voice going up several octaves.

  “We love your voice, your Highness,” he replied with a straight face. “You need to work on your crescendos just a bit, though. You might think about some deep-breathing exercises. Get some bottom under your voice so that you don’t have to move from a whisper to a shriek quite so fast. It’ll be much more impressive once you learn to control it.” He glanced at Gher. “Was there something you wanted to add, boy?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to tell her that I don’t much care for that nose-up-in-the-air way she talks,” Gher replied. He looked Andine in the face. “All right, lady, I’m woodsy. So what? If you don’t like the way I look, don’t look at me. I don’t have any parents, and I wear rags because that’s all I can find to wear. I don’t see where that’s any of your business, though. I’m too busy staying alive to worry about how I look, and if you don’t like it that way, well, that’s just too bad.”

  Move over Althalus, Emmy’s tone was brisk. I’m going to take care of something right now. He felt her roughly shouldering his consciousness out of her way.

  Andine was gaping at Gher. “People don’t talk to me that way!” she gasped.

  “Not to your face, maybe,” Gher shot back, “but I think if you’d close your mouth and listen to other people once in a while, you might find out what they really think of you. But you don’t want to know, do you? I wasn’t raised in a palace the way you were, lady. I grew up in a garbage heap, so I don’t have fancy manners.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this!”

  “Maybe you don’t have to, but you really should. I breathe in and out the same as you do, lady, and you don’t own the air, so it belongs to me as much as it does to you. Just back away, lady. You make me even sicker than I make you.”

  Andine fled.

  Did you do that? Althalus silently demanded.

  Of course, Emmy replied. I told you that I’d have to go through you to do these things. Gher’s going to work out just fine, Althalus. Emmy paused. I think you should clean him up just a bit, though, she added.

  They stayed in Nabjor’s old camp for several days introducing Gher to his new situation. The boy was quick, there was no question about that. In a different time and place, Althalus might have taken him under his wing as an apprentice, since he recognized an enormous potential. It took a while, however, to persuade Gher that regular bathing would keep the noise down. With Emmy’s help, Althalus conjured up some clothing for their recruit, and that made him look much less like the runoff from a passing rag cart.

  Andine avoided Gher almost religiously until the morning of the boy’s fourth day in the camp. Then she came to the fire with a determined look on her face and a comb and a pair of scissors in her hands. “You!” she said to him. She pointed at a stump. “Sit. There. Now.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’m going to fix your hair. You took like a haystack.”

  “I can smooth it down if it bothers you.”

  “Hush. Sit.”

  Gher looked quickly at Althalus. “Do I have to take orders from her?” he asked.

  “I would, if I were you. Let’s keep peace in the family, if we can.”

  “How can you even see through all of this?” Andine demanded, taking hold of the shock of hair that hung down over Gher’s forehead. Then she started combing and cutting, frowning in concentration. For some reason she seemed to be taking her task very seriously.

  Gher apparently wasn’t used to haircuts, so he squirmed a bit as Andine barbered at him for all she was worth. “Sit still!” she commanded. She combed and snipped for almost an hour, frequently stepping back to look critically at her handiwork. “Close,” she said finally, reaching out to snip off a stray hair. Then she looked at Althalus. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Very nice.”

  “You didn’t even look!” Her voice went up an octave or so.

  “All right, all right. I’ll took. Don’t get excited.”

  Gher’s shaggy hair was neatly trimmed and well combed now. Andine had cut his forelock into straight bangs, and the rest of his hair ended at his collar line in the fashion Althalus had seen in Osthos. “Really not bad at all, your Highness,” he said. “Where did you learn barbering?”

  “I used to trim my father’s hair for him,” she replied. “Shaggy hair makes my fingers start to itch.”

  “At least he doesn’t look quite so much like a sheepdog anymore,” Bheid noted.

  Andine took Gher firmly by the chin and looked him straight in the face. “You’re presentable now, Gher,” she told him. “You’re clean and you’ve got new clothes and a decent haircut. Don’t go out and play in the mud.”

  “I won’t, ma’am,” Gher promised. He looked at her almost bashfully. “You’re awfully pretty, ma’am,” he blurted, “and I didn’t really mean everything I said to you the other night.”

  “I knew that,” she said with a little toss of her head. Then she stroked his freshly trimmed hair and kissed his cheek. “Run along now, Gher,” she told him. “Go out and play, but don’t muss your hair or muddy up your clothes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he promised.

  Andine looked around, absently clicking her scissors. “Anybody else?” she asked.

  Emmy read the Knife that afternoon. “Kweron,” she advised Althalus. “We still have one more to pick up, and we’d better hurry.”

  They broke camp the next morning and rode northwesterly through the ancient forest of Hule. Andine, peculiarly, had insisted that Gher ride with her on her placid mare.

  “I didn’t really think they were getting off to a very good start right there at first,” Eliar said to Bheid and Althalus. “Did something happen that I didn’t know about?”

  “Gher said something to her that night that apparently cut a little close to the bone,” Bheid explained. “I’m sure that he’s the first commoner she’s ever actually encountered. She probably didn’t have any idea at all about how miserable the lives of most common people really are. Gher’s a bit quick with his tongue, and our little Princess was probably surprised that he even knows how to talk at all. The haircut and the ride on her horse are her way of apologizing to him for any past injustices.”

  “You’ve got some fairly radical opinions for a member of the priesthood, Bheid,” Althalus suggested.

  “The goal of mankind should be justice, Althalus. In their hearts, men really want to be just and kindly, but other things get in the way. It’s the duty of the priesthood to keep man on the right course.”

  “Isn’t it just a little early in the day for these dense philosophical discussions?” Althalus asked.

  “It’s never too early—or too late—to learn, my son,” Bheid proclaimed sententiously.

  “Now, that’s really offensiv
e.”

  Bheid gave him a mischievous little smirk. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said.

  It was early autumn in Kweron, and the leaves of birch and aspen were beginning to turn. Althalus hadn’t been into these particular mountains very often, largely because there’d been very few people in Kweron when he’d met Ghend and gone to the House at the End of the World. The villages here were small and crudely built, and the people who lived in them seemed fearful and withdrawn.

  “They aren’t very friendly here, are they?” Eliar asked as they rode along the muddy single street of another hamlet. “Back home, everybody comes out to gawk at strangers who come through, but these people all go hide.”

  “The Kwerons are reported to be a superstitious lot,” Bheid told him. “I’ve heard that they grow violent if somebody’s shadow happens to touch them. I think it might have something to do with how close Kweron is to Nekweros. Legends tell us that some fairly awful things come creeping out of Nekweros now and then.”

  “Has Emmy told you where we’re going yet?” Eliar asked Althalus.

  “I’m sure she’ll get around to it eventually,” Althalus replied.

  They rode steadily westward for the next week and came down out of the mountains to the jagged shoreline of the long, narrow inlet that marked the western edge of Kweron. The inlet, like the sea at the Edge of the World in Kagwher, was filled with ice.

  We’re getting closer, Althalus, Emmy’s voice murmured late one afternoon. Let’s pull back into the woods a ways. Set up a camp of sorts, and then you, Bheid, and I had better drift into a couple of those villages down by the edge of the inlet.

  What are we looking for, Em?

  A witch.

  You’re not serious!

  The local people call her a witch, but she isn’t really. We’ll want to talk with the priests in these little towns, and Bheid knows how to talk to other priests. Don’t throw the word “witch” around in front of the others. It’s one of those words that turns people’s heads off.

  They rode back into the forest, and Althalus spoke briefly with Bheid. Then he told Eliar, Andine, and Gher to wait. “Bheid and I are going to snoop around a bit,” he told them. “These Kwerons are sort of peculiar. I’d like to get the lay of the land before we all go trooping into these villages.”

  Then Althalus and the auburn-haired young priest rode back to the main trail. I need to talk to him, pet, Emmy said. Why don’t you take a little nap or something?

  Very funny, Em.

  Just step aside, Althalus. You can listen, if you want, but stay out of it. Then she sort of shouldered him out of the way again. “Bheid?” she said.

  Bheid looked sharply at Althalus. “Is that you, Emmy?” he asked in a startled tone.

  “Yes. Put on your priestly expression and brush up on your astrology just a bit. When we go into these villages, I want you to look up the local priest in each one. Introduce yourself and tell them that you’ve come here to verify something that you’ve read in the stars.”

  “I might need something a little more specific, Emmy,” he said.

  “Tell them that if you’re reading the stars right, there’s going to be a fairly big avalanche around here in the near future.”

  “Will there really be one?”

  “I can almost guarantee it, Bheid. I’ll have Althalus bring down a whole mountain if we really need one that big. I want you to act very concerned. You’ve traveled halfway across the world to warn the people. Make a big fuss. Get excited. Throw in the word ‘disaster’ every time you get the chance. Then, after Althalus has spilled a few acres of boulders down a mountainside, everybody around here’s going to believe that you’re a holy savior, and they’ll all trust you.”

  Bheid looked a bit puzzled. “Exactly what are we building up to here, Emmy?”

  “One of the villages around here has somebody chained up that they believe is a witch, and they’re planning a big celebration when they burn her at the stake. You’re going to persuade them to turn her over to you instead. Tell them that you’re going to take her back to Awes for interrogation.”

  “That might be a bit tricky, Emmy,” he said dubiously.

  “Not really. Just tell them that the priesthood in Awes needs to know what Daeva’s plans are so that they can take steps to counter those plans. Make dramatic noises about the fate of the world, eternal darkness, hordes of demons rushing up out of Hell, and assorted other foolishness. I’ll have Althalus punctuate your speeches with thunderclaps and earthquakes and maybe a few heavenly trumpets.”

  “Emmy!” he protested.

  “Yes? Was there some problem with that?”

  “What you’re talking about is pure fakery!”

  “So what?”

  “I’m a priest, Emmy, not a charlatan! We can’t just make things up this way.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m supposed to tell the truth.”

  “It is the truth, Bheid. All you’re going to do is simplify things so that simple people can understand.”

  “Is this woman we’re going to rescue really a witch?”

  “Of course not. She’s one of us—or she will be as soon as she reads the Knife. We have to have her, Bheid. We’ll fail if she’s not with us.”

  “You’re forcing me to violate one of my most sacred vows.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. We won’t do it that way then. We’ll just kill everybody in this part of Kweron instead. You’ll be standing waist-deep in blood, but your soul will be all nice and clean. Won’t that make you proud?”

  “Monstrous!”

  “It’s entirely up to you, Bheid. You can either be a swindler or a butcher. Take your pick.” She paused. “Quickly, quickly, Bheid. Choose which it’s to be so that we can get on with this. If we’re going to kill all these people, we’d better get to killing.”

  Aren’t you coming down on him a little hard, Em? Althalus murmured to her from the back corner of his mind.

  He is going to learn to do as he’s told, pet. The words each of you pick up from the Knife apply to all of us. You aren’t the only one who’s seeking, and Andine’s not the only one who must obey. We all seek, and we all obey. Then she spoke aloud to their very troubled young priest. “Well, Bheid, what’s it to be? Lies or blood?”

  “What choice do I have?” he said helplessly. “I’ll lie to them.”

  “That’s nice,” she approved.

  They rode down into a crude village that had probably been the home of fishermen before the coming of the ice. Althalus climbed down off his horse and approached one of the residents, a thickly bearded man leading a placid ox. “Excuse me,” Althalus said to the man, “do you happen to know where I might find the local priest?”

  “There’s the church right over there. He might not be awake yet, though.”

  “I’ll wake him,” Althalus said. “My Reverend Master here needs to talk to him.”

  “He doesn’t like to be roused out of his bed.”

  “He’ll like getting buried alive a lot less.”

  “Buried alive?” the bearded man exclaimed.

  “By the avalanche.”

  “What avalanche?”

  “The one that’s going to come rolling down the side of that mountain before long. Thanks for the information, friend. Have yourself a real fine day.”

  “You weren’t supposed to say that, Althalus,” Bheid hissed when the worried man with the ox was out of earshot.

  “Preparation, Bheid,” Althalus explained. “A few awful rumors are always useful in these situations.”

  The local priest was a tall, untidy man with melancholy eyes, and his name was Terkor. “I haven’t studied astrology as deeply as I probably should have, Brother,” he confessed to Bheid. “This is a remote place at the outer edge of civilization. I care for the sick, comfort the bereaved, and mediate local squabbles. That doesn’t leave me much time for study. What have you seen in the stars?”

  “The Dragon has moved into the seventh house,
” Bheid replied glibly, “and with the moon in the ascendancy, there’s a great potential for a natural disaster. I’m sure you recognize the signs.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it, Brother,” Terkor admitted. “That’s at a level of complexity far beyond my poor understanding.”

  “The Dragon is one of the three Earth signs,” Bheid explained, “and the moon carries strong hints of instability—earthquakes, avalanches, and the like. Anyway, as soon as I plotted the course of the Bear, I realized that the disaster was going to strike here in Kweron. I had an obligation to come here to warn you, so my servant and I immediately went to horse. Thank the Gods that we reached you in time.”

  “You’re a noble man, Brother. Most men I know wouldn’t have taken the trouble.”

  “It’s my duty, Brother. That’s why I read the stars—to warn my fellow men when these things are destined to occur. Most of my fellow priests in Awes concentrate on casting horoscopes for other men for pay. I watch the stars for hints of these disasters instead.”

  “Were you able to pick up any signs about what kind of disaster this is going to be?”

  “The position of the moon sort of hints that a mountainside’s going to give way.”

  “An avalanche? Dear Gods!”

  “That’s what I’m reading, yes. Some of my brothers in Awes believe that a comet’s going to strike the Earth, but I don’t agree with them. The Rooster’s in the wrong house for a comet.”

  “Comet or avalanche, it doesn’t matter much which one’s going to fall on us, Brother,” Terkor said. “Either one would kill a lot of my neighbors.”

  Bheid looked around as if to make sure that they were alone. “Has anything particularly unusual happened here lately, Brother Terkor?” he asked. “I’m reading the presence of some great evil in this vicinity. The stars seem to be combining to respond to that evil.”

  “Nekweros is over on the other side of the inlet, Brother Bheid,” Terkor said rather drily. “That’s about as evil as anything’s likely to get.”