CHAPTER TWENTY THAT WAS KING GILLING!
Summer in the midst of winter. Idnn sat upon a bench of white marble, delightfully cool, beneath wisteria; and though it was too dark for her to see the face of the young man beside her, she knew the young man was Svon. A nightingale sang. They kissed, and their kiss held a lifetime of love, throbbing and perfumed with musk. For eons it endured, but ended far too soon. She woke, and held her eyes tight shut, and would have given all that she possessed to return for one hour to that dreamdrew the blanket tight around her, and knew the febrile heat of her own loins, where something as old as Woman wept. Gerda muttered in her sleep, turned, and lay quiet. "Your Majesty . . ." The voice had been real, not Mani's, not Gerda's or Berthold's, and certainly not Uns'. Idnn sat up. A naked girl with floating hair knelt at her bedside. "Your Majesty. Your servant is Uri. Did you like the dream I brought you?" Idnn caught her breath. "I hoped it might entertain Your Majesty. Your servant Uri is a waif of Aelfrice, one who seeks to please you in every possible way and asks no more than a smile. One kind word in a year, but only if Your Majesty is so inclined." Idnn did not feel capable of indignation, but mustered all she had. "Must we have a sentry at our door, even here?" "Your Majesty does." Uri gestured. "There he lies, sound asleep beside his cudgel." She giggled. "I skipped over him." Idnn swung her legs over the side of the bed that had been Marder's. "Rise. We wish to see you better." Uri did, wand-slender and no taller than Idnn herself. "Shall I light the candle? Am I fair to look upon?" "The sun's up." Vaguely, Idnn wondered what had become of her nightdress, then remembered she had brought none. "We will see you well enough in a minute or two." "In sunshine? Your Majesty would scarcely see me at all." A flame sprang from the candle wick. "You claim you are an Aelf?" Uri bowed, spreading her hands and inclining her head. "Your hairit's very beautiful, but we have to admit it doesn't look human. May we touch it?" "And more, Your Majesty." Idnn did. "It has no weight." "But little, Your Majesty, and so is stirred by every breeze. I am the same." "Your eyes, too. You don't like to look at us." "Your Majesty is a queen." Idnn touched Uri's chin. "The queen orders you to look her in the face. You will not be punished." Uri raised her head, and Idnn found herself looking into eyes of smoky yellow fire. "You are what you say." A trifle light-headed, Idnn seated herself on the bed again. "Would you like to see my true self, Your Majesty? I took this so as not to frighten." "We would not have been afraid," Idnn declared stoutly, "but my servants may wake. Better that you stay as you are." "They will not, Your Majesty, unless you wish it." "Remain as you are, Aelf. What do you wish from us?" "A smile." "All right." Idnn shrugged. "You'll get it if you've earned it. Have you?" "My dream," Uri began. "We had no dream! What else?" "Your servant Uri also brought a dream to Sir Able. It was of Glas, an isle well known to your servant. If he wants to revisit it, as I trust he will, he will have to remain in Mythgarthr. Thus, I hope to have him enter your husband's service and remain there. Does that please Your Majesty?" "Certainly. If it's true." "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your servant Uri also seeks to warn you of an ill-intentioned person who seeks the life of your royal husband. His Majesty has been stabbed. You, Your Majesty, were present on that sad occasion." "Are you saying we stabbed him? You lie!" Uri crouched, her hands raised as if to ward off a blow. "Your servant proclaims your innocence, with her own. Your servant has come to tell you the name" Something (afterward Idnn puzzled long over just what that something had been) drew Idnn's attention to the door of her pavilion; it stood open, though it ought to have been tied firmly with five golden cordsa discrepancy which at the time failed to disturb her. Through it, silhouetted against the sun, she saw a tall man with a staff. He wore a gray cloak and a wide hat, and he was walking toward her. Their gazes locked, and she rose from the bed, naked as she was, and trembled until he stood before her. Naked, she knelt and pressed her forehead to the rich, uneven carpet of the floor. "Arise, my daughter." She did, slowly and hesitantly. "Open your eyes." "I'm afraid, Father." "Do you think you must die if you behold my face? I am not the Most High. Look upon me." It was a hard as anything she had ever done. "Do you know my voice?" "It is the wind, Father. I did not know it was your voice, but I have heard it many times." "Look into my eye. Have you seen it?" "Yes, Father. It is where the sun lives." "I am . . . ?" "The Wanderer." Her knees shook until it seemed she would surely fall. "You are King of the Overcyns." "Am I to be so feared?" "Yes, Father." He laughed, and it was the laughter of a torrent. "Y-you're displeased with me." He laid his hand upon her shoulder, and strength poured from it to fill her. "Do you truly believe, Queen Idnn, that I am seen like this by those who displease me?" "No, Father. I know you are not." "Then what reason have you to fear? Is it because your husband is of the blood of Ymir?" "Yes, Father. For that reason and many others." "My own have wed the Giants of Winter and Old Night, Queen Idnn, and they us more than once. If I bless you, will you serve me? My blessing brings good fortune ever after." She knelt, though not as Uri had, and the face that she turned up to him shone. "I'll do you whatever service I can, Father, now and always. With your blessing or without it." He blessed her, giving her the blessing of Skai and the promise of a seat at his table, laying the hand that had held her shoulder upon her head and tapping her right shoulder and her left with his staff. "Rise, Queen Idnn. You have a place with me always." She stood. Weeping, she could not speak. "I have a friend. I will not name him, because the name he bears here is not the name he bears among us, where he is Drakoritter. The dragon stands upon his helm, and coils on his shield." Still weeping, Idnn nodded. "I let him return that he might regain his only love. Help him, Queen Idnn." She shut tight eyes from which the tears still streamed, and labored to bring fair words into the world: "F-F-Father. III am your slave." Opening her eyes, she found that she stood alone in the pavilion that had been Marder's. Gerda slept still at the foot of the folding bed. Of the Wanderer, there was no sign. Nor was there any sign of Uri the Aelfmaiden, save that the candle burned with a long, smoky flame. Wrapping herself in a blanket, Idnn went to the door. It was closed and tied so with five golden cords. She loosed the knots and drew back its bear-colored velvet. Uns lay across the doorway with a stout staff beside him. A bowshot down the slope of winter-brown grass and broken snow, beyond the dead campfires and the sleepers cocooned in whatever covering they had been able to find, green-robed spruce and white-limbed birch stirred in a dawn wind that repeatedonce onlythe blessing she had received. Returning to her bed, she pulled the blanket from her maid. "Wake up, Gerda! The sun's up. Help us dress before Berthold and Uns strike our tent." The dawn wind, entering the pavilion, extinguished the candle. Etela, clean and a little damp, was drying herself in the turret room. "Where you going?" "Back into town." Toug tried to smile, and succeeded. "What for?" "To buy things. Lord Thiazi's given us moneythat's Sir Svon and me. This castle's running short of everything." "Coming with!" "No, you're not." "Am so! I know where everything is, the whole market." "Put your coat on." Toug buckled on his sword belt and loosened Sword Breaker in her scabbard. "What if somebody were to see you with your gown sticking to you like that?" "They won't. You've got the thing on the door." "The bar." Toug picked up the dagger that had been the Angrborn smith's, and eyed it with disfavor. How was he to carry a sword as long as an ox goad? "It won't be there in a minute. I'm going, and it's too heavy for you." "Wait up. I'll be really quick." "You're not going. Lord Thiazi and Lord Beel said Sir Svon and me. Nobody else." "Want me to show you how to carry Master's big knife?" "How would you know?" Toug, who had taken it from its place in the corner leaned it against the bed. " 'Cause I'm smart. Watch." Before he could stop her, she had drawn his dagger and ducked under one of the oversized chairs. "What are you doing down there? Don't cut that!" "I already have. This's really sharp." "I know, I sharpened it. Be careful." "This stuff's kind of worn, I guess. It's pretty soft." Etela emerged from under the chair waving a narrow strip of thick leather. "Now sit on the floor so I can do this." "Do what?" "Fasten on your sword. You'll see. Now sit!" Reluctantly, Toug did. "I don't have a lot of time. Sir Svon's probably waiting for me this minute." "We've already spent more time talking." He felt a tug at the buckle of his shoulder strap. "See, you've got this so you can make it shorter or bigger, and the sword's got a ring up here where Master tied it on his belt. You cut the thong, remember?" Toug said, "Sure." "Well, these chairs have big straps underneath to hold the cushions. So I cut a piece off the side, and I'm tying your sword on the buckle." "Can you tie good knots, Etela?" "I can crochet!" The knot was tightened with a vengeance. "Now get up." He did, and small hands made a final adjustment. "See? It hangs right down your back, slantwise so the handle's not behind your neck. Reach up." His hand found the long bone grip he planned to shave smaller. He drew the sword, sheath and blade leaving his back together until the sheath fell with a slap. "It's heavy, isn't it?" Half an hour later, as he and Svon finished saddling, he remembered Etela's question and his answer, which had been a lie. "Sir Svon?" Svon looked up from his cinch. "What?" "I was wondering how long it took you to get used to wearing mail." "I never have." Svon swung into the saddle as if mail, helmet, and sword weighed nothing at all. "You haven't?" "Not yet. I'm always conscious of it, and glad to get it off. Ask Sir Garvaon." Svon paused. "I'm glad to put it on, too. Are you afraid you can't mount with that war sword? Hang it from the pommel like your shield. Many men do that." Thug's left foot was already in the stirrup; with a firm grip on the saddle, he mounted with everything in him. "The weight wasn't as bad as you thought, was it?" Toug shook his head. Svon made a small noise and eased his reins; Moonrise trotted into the deserted courtyard, eager to be off. "You know what's a lot heavier?" Toug hurried after them. "Your helm?" "No. This burse." Its strings were tied to his belt; Svon shook it and it chinked melodiously. "If I were to lose my helm or my shield, I'd go on without them. Lose this, and who would trust me afterward?" "I would." Svon laughed. "Nicely spoken. To tell you the truth, few trust me now." For a few minutes and more, Svon rode on in silence. "Duke Marder's coming. Sir Able said so." "I don't know him." "I do, and he thinks he knows me. He was my liege, but he never trusted me." Side by side they rode through the gate of Utgard, and out on the echoing bridge Toug had crossed on foot the night before, and recrossed with a war sword on his shoulder and Etela skipping after him. "It's by bearing mail and sword that we become strong," Svon said, "and by bearing hardship that we become brave. There is no other way." "I need to talk to you, Mani." Mani nodded and sprang into my arms. "I require my place in your saddlebag. You'll oblige me?" "Certainly." To prove it, I put him there. "Now talk away, dear owner. Or do you want me to?" "I want you to tell me about the Room of Lost Love. You mentioned it. Tell me everything you know." "I haven't been in it." Mani paused, his emerald eyes vague. "I believe I said that." "I'd like to hear everything you've heard about it." "Ulfa probably knows more," Mani said slowly. "Pouk may, too. They were in Utgard longer." Gylf made a small noise, half a growl. "They aren't here," I said. "You are. How did you learn what you know about it?" "Originally? From Huld. The Angrborn never love. I suppose everybody knows. It's the main difference between them and you. You're both very big. They're bigger, but you're both big and noisy. You don't think much, either of you. You both can talk. Which is good, I admit." "Tell me about the room." The last of the pack mules was being loaded. Marder and Woddet were already in the saddle, and as I watched Uns made a step of his hands to assist Idnn in mounting. "Lost love's got to go somewhere." Mani was speaking slower than ever, and as much to himself as me. "People act as if lost things vanish. We cats don't. I used to have a house I liked, a little place in the woods and a good place for field mice and rabbits. I leftmy mistress made meand now I hardly think of it. But it's still there." Gylf looked up, plainly expecting me to say something, but I did not. "It hasn't gone away," Mani continued, "unless it's burned. I'm the one who's gone away." I said, "I'm not sure I follow this." "I'm like love," Mani explained. "There's a great deal of love in every cat. Not everyone believes that, but it's true. Dependency and fawning aren't love." "I love Bold Berthold," I told him. "There. You see? Now suppose you stopped. You'd feel a sort of emptiness, wouldn't you?" "I suppose so." "You certainly would, if you really loved Berthold to start with. That would be the space the love used to fill. It's like losing a tooth. If a tooth comes out, you throw it away. Very likely you never see it again. But it's still somewhere. A peasant digging might turn it up, or a jackdaw might put it in his nest." I nodded absently. "Gylf, would you bring my lance?" "Love is the same, and love tends to go where it is most needed. A lost cat goes to water, if it can." "I didn't know that." Cloud, who had been listening, filled my mind with the image of a pony splotched with white and brown, climbing hill after hill until it reached the foothills of the mountains. "So lost love comes to Jotunland, where no love is, or at least very littlesome poor slave whose cat is her only friend. Anyway, this is one of the places where it comes." I took my lance from Gylf's mouth and mounted, swinging my right leg wide to miss Mani. "It's stored in the Room of Lost Love in Utgard. Those who've lost love . . . This is what they say. As I told you, I couldn't get in. Those who've lost love can go in there and find their lost love again, sometimes." Mani sighed, and drew his sleek black head deeper into my saddle bag. "I haven't lost love. Or if I have, I can't remember what it was. Perhaps that's why I couldn't get in." Riding alone, a long bowshot in front of the main body with empty