Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (7 page)

It was all settled in a half-glass. Arcolin made sure the girl knew enough about nursing; her mother promised to come by once a day as well except in the worst weather. Arcolin insisted on the duke’s duty to pay for a veteran’s care. “Tomorrow I must visit the gnomes’ hall—an envoy from the Aldonfulk prince came today—and Duke’s West if I can. But I will be back the day after—or perhaps another day, but not more than three.”

He rode away, still worried about Kolya, but not as much—the girl, Caelin, seemed delighted to have her first job outside the home, and Kolya had plenty of supplies in the house. Still, when the roads cleared, he would send for a Kuakgan for her.

When he reached the stronghold, Arneson told him that they had lighted a fire in the cellar chamber before the gnome arrived, and the gnome seemed satisfied to be under stone. Arcolin went through into the inner courtyard, where he found a narrow, slightly crooked—but complete—path from the door to the well. One of the kitchen helpers hoisting a bucket grinned at him.

“Your lad begged us to leave the path as he’d dug it until you arrived, my lord. Says he’ll widen it this afternoon.”

“I think Calla will want him indoors this afternoon,” Arcolin said. “But I’m impressed. That’s quite a job for a lad his size.” He went on in, stripping off his cloak, scarf, and gloves. Jamis and Calla were in the dining room, near the fireplace; the boy turned quickly to look at him.

“Da?”

“A fine job you did,” Arcolin said.

“I can work more—” Jamis began; Calla gave Arcolin a look.

“No,” Arcolin said. “There’s others would like to get some exercise outside. I’m proud of you, working so hard, but there’s more than one kind of work, and the weather’s holding, so you can go out again tomorrow.”

Jamis nodded. “Yes, Da. Did you know there’s a gnome, Da? And not one of yours?”

“Yes. An envoy from the Aldonfulk prince. I must meet with him. I don’t know if he will eat with us or not—if he does, we must all be very careful not to stare or chatter.” He looked at Calla then. “Kolya Ministiera’s been sick during the storm and isn’t well yet. I’ve hired Fontaine’s daughter to stay with her for a few days. When the road’s clearer—”

“Of course I’ll go,” Calla said. “Sick and alone in the storm—and with only one arm—and of course she misses Stammel—”

“She told you?”

Calla smiled. “People do tell me things, you know. She hoped he’d settle down and retire here eventually. When he left so suddenly, she was afraid he’d never return. And then—he was gone.” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it is really spring where he was, and here we have snow drifted halfway up the north wall of the stronghold.”

Arcolin thought back to springs in Valdaire. “The dragon said so … he was far south of where I’ve ever been.” He sighed, thinking of Stammel’s death. “But I must go meet with the prince’s envoy.” He made his way down to the cellars, now bright with the decoration the gnomes had added during their stay.

Faksutterk answered to his knock on the door of the cellar chamber. He bowed, and Arcolin inclined his own head in return. In gnomish, he said, “It is my wish that the envoy of your prince be comfortable.”

“It is comfortable,” Faksutterk said. “Will the prince enter?”

“It is the guest’s choice, to go upstairs to my office or to speak here. This is guest space.” Arcolin’s tribe had all preferred to meet humans out of their own space once they were settled into it.

“The prince’s office,” Faksutterk said. He closed the door behind him, and Arcolin led the way upstairs.

In the office, Arcolin sat first, as gnome protocol demanded, and then waved Faksutterk to a chair. The gnome did not sit immediately but pulled out of his tunic a gray leather tube and handed it over, then climbed into a chair. “My prince has word beyond writing,” he said. “When the prince has read it.”

Unlike the stone-etched invitation he had received the previous summer, this was written on a cream-colored material—coated fabric,
he thought—in Common, not gnomish. The first section, in fact, was in Selfer’s familiar hand and revealed that the situation in Aarenis had worsened faster than he had imagined possible.

In another hand and less easy Common, Arcolin read the Aldonfulk prince’s assessment.

Arcolin had heard of none of those gnome tribes; the prince had included a map. Gnome tribes inhabited many hills he had not known about, both north and south of the Dwarfmounts, excepting the area of Lyonya labeled Sinyi.

The prince’s letter went on, giving information from other tribes and the latest information available on the whereabouts of the Duke of Immer and his resources.

“Extraordinary,” he said aloud, then looked up at the gnome sitting
patiently in a chair too large for it. Faksutterk nodded. “And your prince has more, by word?”

Faksutterk spoke in rapid gnomish, taxing Arcolin’s ability to follow. Time and again he held up his hand, asking Faksutterk to repeat something. The Aldonfulk prince, he understood finally, proposed a regular courier service between them, including carrying messages to and from Fox Company when Arcolin was not there. The gnomes were positive that the necklace—Arcolin could not help thinking of it as “Paks’s necklace”—was now in the Duke of Immer’s possession and that it posed a special threat. The prince also asked questions about the organization of Arcolin’s tribe “that their names may be written.”

“Is there then a single list of gnomes?” Arcolin asked. “All the gnomes in all the princedoms?” As far as he knew, only granges, in Tsaia, tried to keep count of everyone. Towns and nobles reported only certain categories to the king.

“Yes. Is most secret; only for prince to know.” Faksutterk stared at Arcolin without saying more.

The next morning, Dattur appeared at the front gate even as Arcolin and Faksutterk were emerging from the inner court on their way to Arcolinfulk stone-right. Arcolin greeted him in gnomish and introduced Faksutterk.

Dattur bowed; Faksutterk returned his bow. Dattur said nothing; his expression offered Arcolin no clue.

“Faksutterk brought news from the South,” Arcolin said. “And word from his prince.”

Still Dattur said nothing. Arcolin sensed a resistance to … something … a resistance like that of a mountain of rock. “You had a message for me?” he asked Dattur directly.

“It is invitation for
prince
—” The word was accented heavily, “—to visit and see what has been wrought since Midwinter.” He spoke in Common, not gnomish; his gaze held Arcolin’s, conveying more than the words themselves.

“I see,” Arcolin said, trying to decipher that message. Surely the gnome wanted a fellow gnome to come to the stone-right … or did he? What if he didn’t? Why wouldn’t he?

“It is Law to speak tongue of Law to speak Law! It is to speak kapristi!” Faksutterk said to Dattur in gnomish. “Human speak kapristinya—no need talk man-talk.”

“It is Law to speak as other understands best,” Dattur said, this time in gnomish and slowly. “It is to speak to one spoken to and not to one overhearing.”

Faksutterk turned a darker gray and said,
“Kteknik!”

“It is your prince gifted this Law-teacher correct attire,” Dattur said. His eyes glittered. “It is that you argue with your prince?”

This would not do; three recruits had turned to stare at the quarreling gnomes, and Arcolin was sure those on watch on the parapet were watching as well.

“It is not Law for kapristi to argue in front of all,” Arcolin said in gnomish. “If words must be said say them indoors: come to my office, both of you.”

Silence. Two pairs of shiny black gnome eyes stared at him.

“My prince speaks Law,” Dattur said, and threw himself down to kiss Arcolin’s boot. Faksutterk bowed very low, and the two gnomes followed Arcolin back through the courtyard. Cobin, one of the recruit sergeants, had already yelled at the curious recruits, and no one stared as they passed.

In his office, he sat down but did not offer either of them a seat. A gnome prince, he thought, might well have chewed them out, but he knew no gnomish curse-words, if they even had such things. He let the silence lengthen as he might for soldiers in trouble, but unlike soldiers, they did not fidget. Rockfolk. Silence and waiting would be no problem for them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts and his still shaky grasp of their language.

“Very well,” he said in slow gnomish. “Faksutterk, you are your prince’s envoy. I gave you welcome. I gave you place to stay. You said it was Lawful.”

“It is Lawful,” Faksutterk said.

“Dattur, you are my hesktak—” Faksutterk shifted as if about to speak; Arcolin stared him into immobility and then went on. “Is it Law that the envoy of another prince be granted guest-space?”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Is it Law that the envoy of another prince be granted food and drink?”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Is it Law that the envoy of another prince be granted all freedom of a stone-right, to go where he will?”

Dattur hesitated. “It is that some princes send same envoy to a prince once and again, and that prince grants them freedom of stone-right. But not all. It is not that Law requires. It is custom under Law.”

“Lord Prince Arcolin.” Faksutterk bowed again. His face had paled to its former level of gray.

“It is permitted to speak,” Arcolin said.

“It is Law Dattur speaks. It is that Lord Prince Aldon would have report of Arcolinfulk gnomes to know health. It is not that Lord Prince Aldon has no trust of Lord Prince Arcolin, but only …” He paused a moment, then went on. “Lord Prince Arcolin is not kapristi in birth and blood. Lord Prince Arcolin has … human knowledge and perhaps has not all knowledge to know … to judge … health of kapristin.”

“This says not about that,” Arcolin said, stumbling among the gnomish for a moment. Dattur opened his mouth, and Arcolin turned his command gaze on Dattur, who subsided.

“Is it that Lord Prince Aldon has said ‘Go see’ or that a report from hesktak is sufficient?”

“Lord Prince Aldon said, ‘Learn if it is that they prosper and if it is not, then if it is that Lord Prince Arcolin, as human, has need of service of instruction.’ It is not said how to learn.”

“Dattur,” Arcolin said in gnomish, “it is that you came to bring word from my kapristin?”

“Yes, my prince.” He glanced aside at the other gnome. “It is word should come to my prince first, but … then share as the prince wills.”

“Excellent.” Arcolin bowed to Faksutterk. “Honor to Lord Prince Aldon for concern for kapristin who should not suffer because a human prince knows too little. Will you wait while Dattur gives me his report?”

“I will.” Faksutterk bowed and withdrew to the hall.

Dattur took a scroll from under his jacket and handed it over. Sure enough, it was a list of the gnomes in the stone-right: age, sex, names. “Five more births since Midwinter,” he said, not waiting for Arcolin to read it.

“So soon?” Arcolin asked. The list was many more than he had expected.

“When kapristin few and work large, then … quicker.”

“All healthy?” Arcolin asked, scanning the document. His mind had difficulty wrapping itself around all the names. Why were some so short—like Lord Prince Aldon—and some so long and hard to say—or hear in the mind, reading silently?

“Very healthy,” Dattur said, dropping now into Common. “Once planted, the misiljit grows rapidly and so food is abundant, and more food makes more … but we do not talk about it.” He shook his head. “But you are my prince, and you need to know. When the kapristinya eat misiljit untainted and abundant, then they can … childer. Many.”

“It is in my heart that Law does not require me to know all about that,” Arcolin said. Arvid had told him one night, late over wine, that he had tried to unremember his one sight of Dattur naked. He would not explain it and the next day claimed not to remember the conversation at all. “But to know that my people gain in number and health pleases me greatly.”

Dattur bowed. “My prince will see that those who came here have a mark by their names. Those names may be known to Faksutterk and Lord Prince Aldon if my—if those once known as Karginfulk sent their report as they should. I had been gone, as my prince knows, for several winters.”

“Should I show this to him? Let him take it to Lord Prince Aldon?”

“Show it to him, yes. Allow him to make a copy—or ask your hesktak to make the copy and stamp it with your seal.” He nodded to the desk, where the seal of Arcolin’s gnome tribe lay, the first gift of his people, carved from stone of the hills.

“And should he see the Hall, or is it not ready for visitors?”

“We would prefer not, my prince. It is … the kapristinya are at work there, and also … childer … and it will be more fitting later.”

“Then so it will be. And should I write to Aldonfulk prince, as he wrote to me?”

“As my prince wishes. A prince may thank a prince, and ask help of a prince, where one kaprist may not. This list will make exchange for what he told you.”