The Bitterbynde Trilogy (124 page)

‘It seems immortals shall never understand why,' said Pryderi bitterly.

‘Immortals we be, yes,' returned Easgathair, ‘but filled with passion; swift to laugh and love, swift to anger, slow to weep. We can, like you, be bowed by grief.'

‘No, never like us,' replied Pryderi. There was a harsh edge to his tone. ‘Never like us, since you cannot know death.'

‘An immeasurable gulf,' acknowledged the Lady Rithindel, after a pause, ‘sunders our races, one from the other.'

‘Nonetheless,' said Meganwy, ‘we must let grudges shrivel and be blown away like the leaves of past seasons, for now we are come to ask for your help. Knowing the Fair Ones to be an equitable and just people, we are certain you will not deny us.'

‘Indeed, we will not deny that we are equitable and just!' said Easgathair. ‘Seat yourselves before us now. We wait to hear what you shall say, although perhaps we have guessed already.'

‘We wish to speak of the Langothe,' said Ashalind, guardedly taking a seat beside Pryderi on a mossy stone.

Easgathair nodded.

‘We cannot abide with it,' she continued, ‘and we beg you to let the children return to the Fair Realm with their families, there to remain. We ask that they may receive protection against unseelie wights such as mingle with the retinue of the Fithiach of Carnconnor, and that they should dwell far from his halls.'

‘Far and near do not mean the same in the Realm as they do here,' said Cierndanel lightly. ‘Thou mightst cross from one end of Faêrie to the other and still be close to the place from whence thou proceeded. Indeed, there are no ends or beginnings as thou know'st them.'

The Lady Rithindel said, ‘Angavar our High King has always welcomed the gold-haired Talith whenever they have entered our country. You people of the gold have often been a source of delight, aye, and help to us, and this occasion, I wot, would be no exception—despite that he is grievously burdened at this time.'

Ashalind saw Easgathair's fist clench as he gripped his staff. Raising his silver-white head, he directed a calm gaze at the mortals.

‘Ashalind,' he said, ‘for seven years thou didst wander in the hills and those eringl woodlands where the Faêran take delight in riding and hunting. Thy kindness and loyalty of spirit were marked by those who saw thee pass and that is why I helped thee when thou first asked. For that same reason I will help thee a second time, for it is the way of my people to reward goodness. Also, there are some among us who would perhaps opine that at this time we need, more than ever, a quota of humankind to abide among us. As Gatekeeper to the Realm, I will grant your request. You and your friends and families shall have your admittance, as well as protection against wights. Against Prince Morragan I cannot shield you, but I think he will not harm you.'

The mortal folk jumped up and embraced each other, smiling, bowing deeply to the three Faêran. ‘Lord Easgathair, Lady Rithindel, Lord Cierndanel—we greet your generous words with joy!' they cried, mindful, even in the midst of their exultation, to refrain from thanking them, as custom decreed.

A meteor arced down the glistering sky, scoring a trail as fine as diamond-dust. Chaste breezes raced across open spaces, lifting the white silk strands of the Gatekeeper's hair. His proud face, with the erudition of eternity engraved into it, hardened to an uncharacteristic severity.

‘It delights us to behold your happiness,' he said, ‘but many things you must now learn—for a dire event has come to pass in Aia, and a more disastrous one shall yet befall. Sit yourselves down once more. I must relate to you now a history of Three Contests.'

Perplexed and intrigued, Ashalind and her friends did as he had bid. When they were comfortably settled, the sage began. ‘Know first that I, Easgathair White Owl, am the Gatekeeper, the overseer of all the Ways between the Realm and Erith. Some while ago—time runs out of kilter in your country, but it was about the season when Angavar High King traded places with one of your kings for a year and a day, and the two of them became friends—some while ago, I was challenged to a game of Kings-and-Queens, or Battle Royal, as it is sometimes known. The Talith entitle the game “chess”. My challenger was the younger brother of the High King—Prince Morragan, the Raven Prince, who is called the Fithiach. Morragan has long been my friend, and such a challenge was not unprecedented. We often vied with one another in amiable gaming.'

‘Indeed,' interjected Cierndanel as the whitebeard paused, ‘and the prince's bard Ergaiorn follows his lead, for it was then that he won from me in a wager the Pipes Leantainn, the Follow Pipes as mortals might name them, and the very instruments with which thou wouldst have quarrel, sweet maid.'

‘Then sir, I would venture to say that you are well rid of them,' rejoined Ashalind with feeling. ‘But prithee, Lord Easgathair, do not halt the tale.'

‘Alas,' continued the Gatekeeper grimly, ‘I did not see then the dark current that ran deep, far below the surface of the charm and wit and mirthfulness of Prince Morragan. I did not suspect the iron acrimony that had become lodged in his once-blithe heart, hardening it over the years, feeding the fires of his pride and arrogance.

‘He gifted me with a beautiful Kings-and-Queens set made of gold and jewels, beautifully wrought by Liriel, jewelsmith of Faêrie, and challenged me to find anywhere in the Realm a fairer or cleverer assemblage of pieces for the board. We played the game and, as was our wont, we bet on the outcome.

‘Lately the Fithiach had been lamenting the fact that always I must abide near to my post in the Watchtower, from which I can oversee all the rights-of-way, and if I step into Erith I must not stray too far lest I am needed. Until he spoke of this, I had not resented my duties, but when he conjured these ideas I became persuaded that perhaps they were, at whiles, a trifle irksome, and I would fain enjoy a brief respite, if only for a change.

‘“If thou shouldst win the contest,” said Morragan, “I shall take thy place in the Watchtower for a space of a year and a day, while thou sojourn'st as thou wishest.”

‘“But sir,” said I, “what stake may I offer thee? Thou dost already possess all thou couldst desire.”

‘“Wilt thou grant me a boon?” said he, and I made answer—“Provided it is within my scope.”

‘Eventually we settled that if I should lose I would grant him a boon as yet unasked; that I would pay him whatever he should desire, were it within my power. We played and I defeated him. He assumed my role at the Watchtower for a year and a day.

‘Some time later, I in my turn gifted the prince with an equipage of Kings-and-Queens, the pieces being the size of siofra, those diminutive wights who love to mimic our forms and customs.

‘“Skilfully is this wrought, I'll allow, my friend,” said he, “and 'tis larger than the Golden Set I bestowed on thee, yet 'tis no prettier or more artful.”

‘Then I showed him how at the touch of a golden wand the pieces moved by themselves, by internal clockworks, and walked to their positions as bid.

‘Thus, with the Mechanical Set a second game was played. On this occasion we both wagered the same stake: “The loser shall pay whatever the winner desires,” and Prince Morragan ended up the victor.

‘“One victory to each of us! This time I have defeated thee, Easgathair,” he said, laughing, “but I must beg for time to consider before I ask for what I desire.”

‘“Sir, thou mightst enjoy as much time as thou wishest,” I boasted. “And whilst thou art at it, thou mayst take time also to search high and low for a cleverer or more beautiful set than this, which I'll warrant thou shalt never find in the Realm.”

At that the brother of the High King smiled and agreed, but added, “Yet, I will bring thee a more marvelous collection and there shall be a third trial. Two out of three. This shall decide the champion.”

‘Fool that I was to play for unspecified boons,' said Easgathair bitterly. ‘And yet how could I suspect? I believed him free of jealous thought. One day, not long—in our reckoning—after thou, Ashalind, hadst taken away the children, he brought me to a glade wherein was raised a platform. It was inlaid with squares of ivory and ebony and upon it stood sixteen dwarrows in mail, armed, and twelve lords and ladies of Erith including four mounted knights, also a quartet of stone-trolls, all enchanted, all alive. At the player's spoken command they obeyed!'

‘But how cruel,' protested Meganwy, ‘to enslave living creatures in that way!'

‘They were trespassers in the Realm,' explained Cierndanel the Faêran bard with a shrug. ‘Those who trespass may, by rights, be taken.'

The mortals looked askance, but held their tongues.

‘With this Living Set we played a game,' said the Gatekeeper, ‘and once more the Fithiach defeated me. He is an adept player and I began to wonder whether he had allowed me to win the first time. As before, we agreed that the loser must pay what the winner should desire—but this time, having won, he immediately asked for what he wanted. He asked, did the Raven Prince, and I was bound to honour my word. I did not guess it had already become a bitterbynde.'

Easgathair rose and paced around the circle. His feet crushed no blade nor pressed any flower.

‘It was then that I discovered the thoughts he harboured. For he made a terrible demand, which was truly anathema to my expectation. I alone am in charge of the Keys to each Gate. If the Ways and the Gates are invisible to you it is because they are merely closed. Rarely are they locked. Once locked, they remain shut forever, according to our Law, as happened to one Gateway after the theft from Lake Coumluch on White-flower's Day.' The Gatekeeper shook his silver-maned head. ‘I recall precisely the words the Fithiach used when he described the boon he would ask of me. He proclaimed:

‘“
Upon thy word, Easgathair White Owl, thou shalt grant me this deed. Thou shalt lock the Gates to the Ways between the Realm and Erith, barring the passage of Faêran, eldritch wights both seelie and unseelie, unspeaking creatures, and all mortal Men. No more shall traffic pass to and from the Realm, which shall remain properly for the Faêran and not be sullied by humankind. At the instant when the Gates finally close, those who bide within the Realm shall remain within and those who bide without shall remain without. After the locking, all the Keys shall be placed in the Green Casket, whose lid shall be sealed by my Password.”'

Pryderi jumped up in a panic.

‘Are the Ways to be closed forever? Then we must hasten!'

‘I asked him,' said Easgathair, for grace of a year and a day. For friendship's sake he granted it.'

‘“
Thou might'st enjoy grace of a year and a day
,” he said, “
but do not conjecture that the passage of time shall change my heart. Never shall I retract this demand.”'

‘Why should the prince wish to cut Aia in twain, to sunder Erith from the Fair Realm?' asked Meganwy. ‘Why does he so despise mingling with mortals?'

‘Prince Morragan has no love for your race. There are deeds done by mortals which have aroused his ire, and also stirred the anger of others of our kind—deeds such as spying and stealing, the breaking of promises, slovenly habits, lying, greed, captiousness, the snaring of a Faêran bride by a mortal man. Morragan loves only the Faêran, but traffics also with eldritch wights. His hatred of mortals is not like the bloodthirsty savagery of unseelie wights but rather a desire to shun your kind, to shut them away from his sight.'

‘So,' Pryderi summarized, ‘it is purely out of contempt for mortal folk that he would lock the Gates to Faerie.'

‘That, and more,' said Easgathair. ‘Know that Morragan is the younger brother of Angavar, called Iolaire, High King of the Realm, who is friend to mortals. Your own King-Emperor William once helped Angavar to bring about the fall of the Waelghast, the Chieftain of the Unseelie Hosts, who was a supporter of Prince Morragan. The Waelghast used to plague Angavar in days of yore. Methinks, perhaps Morragan, in his jealousy, encouraged this. Without the Waelghast the unseelie wights are leaderless, but more and more nowadays they are foraying into Erith to harass mortal men, and mayhap Morragan is behind this also.

‘Angavar is powerful. Morragan is the younger and so he must be Crown Prince, instead of King. 'Twould be unwise for me to reveal more, here in this place—even stones may have ears. Suffice to say that rivalry between siblings causes strife in many races, and jealousy is not a trait monopolized by mortals. It hurts Angavar to Close the Ways.'

Clouds of moths gathered around the luminous stones, spattering their tiny X-shaped shadows in evanescent patterns on the lichen. The fox gave a grating, silvery yap like the beat of a wire brush against metal. Down in the mosses, a small stone bobbed up and down as though something were pushing up from underneath it.

‘Get thee hence!' said Easgathair, nudging the stone with his foot. It wailed thinly and dropped with a clunk.

An eggshell of silence closed around the Circle, brittle and fragile. Ashalind and her friends were dumbfounded at what they had heard.

‘We begged the Fithiach to reconsider,' said Rithindel in low tones, ‘but he would not listen. Many of our folk applaud his plan, especially those who have ever given him loyalty and love. Now ill will sunders the Faêran and many go forth to visit Erith, knowing it shall be for the last time. For there are a multitude of things in Erith that please many of us—not least, its mortalkind.'

‘Angavar High King,' Cierndanel the Piper said, ‘has ordered Giovhnu the Faêran Mastersmith to forge a special metal with which to make gifts of farewell for William of Erith—a metal such as has not before been seen in Aia, a metal with which gramarye is alloyed.
Sildron
, it is called. Your people shall deem it precious.'

‘Why then are we mining the yellow metal, the native talium?' asked Pryderi.