Knave of Dreams

by Andre Norton

  “Good, good!” Grishilda complimented the girl on the effect.

  But Thecla shrugged. “Little,” she said, “But all one can do. Listen!” She caught Ramsay by the sleeve, drew him away from the mirror. “You must go—with Grishilda. At Kilsyth safe—there I come. You learn speak—Grishilda teach. Must not be taken by Ochall—or”—she hesitated—“others. We plan—you do. Eat—go—” She made shooing motions with her hands.

  Ramsay wanted to protest. But her uneasiness was so manifest that he knew he would have to trust her. For she was able to convey to him not by her scattered words but rather by some reaching of emotion that she was in deadly earnest. There was a direct danger to him here, and her plan was his only hope.

  He ate hurriedly of food from a tray in the outer chamber. While he chewed and swallowed, Thecla walked up and down, talking to the older woman. Perhaps she was giving orders, but she spoke so fast Ramsay was not able to catch more than a word or two. Twice Grishilda seemed to raise a protest but was straightway overruled.

  At length the older woman pulled a cloak around her shoulders and signed for Ramsay to put on another. Then she pointed to him and a small chest sitting on the floor. It had a rope handle on its top, and he understood that he was to carry it.

  “You”—Thecla once more addressed him directly—“Grishilda’s man—servant. She goes to Kilsyth—safe there.”

  “Thank you,” Ramsay said, “but why—”

  “Do I do this?” She completed the sentence for him swiftly. “You know later. Learn—speak—then we talk, I tell you. You stay here—Ochall—others find—like Kaskar—you then be dead.”

  That she thought her fears were based on truth he was certain. And he could not produce any protest she might heed or understand. Better go along with this, at least for now, until he could learn enough of their language to find out just what was going on, where he was, and perhaps even why.

  He was turning away, having picked up the chest in his right hand, when Thecla caught his left, holding it tightly between both of hers. Ramsay was startled, even more than when he had seen the changes they had made in him reflected in the mirror. For there actually seemed to be a kind of energy flow that spread from those two palms clasping his fingers so tightly, passing into his own hand and arm.

  Nor was that contact a physical sensation alone, for, at the same time, there built up in his mind a need for haste and caution, a warning of danger, the suggestion that he must follow any leads Grishilda might give him or else be betrayed in some way to an unexplained but very real peril.

  “All right,” Ramsay said in answer to that mental warning. “I will do as you say.” Some of his answer was in her tongue, some in his.

  She nodded vigorously and dropped his hand, breaking the communication, so odd because he never had known it before. He wished that she had continued, if only for a short space. Perhaps so he could have learned more— But he guessed that now haste was imperative, and he turned obediently after the woman out of the door Grishilda had fastened so carefully at their first meeting.

  They came into a wide corridor, carpeted and paneled, with globe lights at regular intervals along its length. Grishilda walked fast, suggesting with a gesture that he keep behind her, the proper attitude, he suspected, for the servant role he was now playing.

  Twice they passed others, both times men wearing a shorter vest-coat resembling his own. But those tunics were yellow and the small badges on them the red hawk or eagle which he bore concealed on his skin. Each of the men glanced at Grishilda but neither spoke. And Ramsay thought they did not really see him at all, as if a servant were beneath any curious notice.

  The hall gave upon a wide stairway, beneath that a broader corridor. At the door at the end of that stood two guards whose clothing matched that of those who had been beside the bier. One stepped forward as if to question them. But Grishilda held up her hand imperiously. Grasped in her fingers was a square of silver bearing the outline of a cat’s head, this one also with jeweled eyes. The guard drew back, leaving their way open.

  The other guard opened the door and Grishilda sailed on, Ramsay in her wake. They were outside in growing dusk now, though still within the confines of whatever building this was. Three of the barriers surrounding them were formed by five-story structures; the fourth was merely wall. However, sitting within a few strides of the door was a vehicle unlike any in Ramsay’s experience. It had a passenger compartment perched on three stilt-like legs, from which a mounting ladder hung. Grishilda hurried to that, and Ramsay, in his role of servant, had wit enough to step out faster, be there in time to assist her up the steps.

  Once inside, they found seats and Grishilda buckled a wide belt around her, Ramsay following her example. Only a portion of the space apparently was for passengers, and he deduced that there must be a separate section which sheltered the pilot or driver.

  Then he grabbed at the edge of the seat and gulped, for the vehicle rose straight up with a lurch that unsettled his stomach. Grishilda showed no surprise; in fact, when she eyed him, her preoccupied, worried look vanished for a second or two, and she smiled.

  Leaning forward a little, her ample middle compressed by the belt, she said: “We fly—”

  However, this was unlike any plane of his own world. He had not noted any blades aloft such as a helicopter possessed, nor were there, to his recollection, any visible wings. And they had not taxied for a normal takeoff. There would not have been room enough for one in that courtyard.

  Only they were flying, and when he pressed closer to the window panel at his right, he could see a blaze of lights spread beneath. There was no doubt that they had taken off across a city of no mean size.

  Without a watch, Ramsay had no way of judging time, but it was not too long a trip until they set down, with some of the same speed as they had been airborne. Grishilda freed herself from her seat belt, and, as the door in the side of the cabin opened automatically, the ladder slipped out. Ramsay descended, set the chest on the pavement, and turned to aid her.

  They were only two in a crowd of passengers arriving in such small flyers. The people as they alighted swarmed on toward a large building, and Grishilda set off in the same direction. Ramsay followed, trying not to be noticed as he glanced quickly right and left at those about him. The clothing seemed standard in general, the only differences being in the length of the vest-coats. Those worn by women varied in length from below the knee to level with the ankle, and were all slit up the side to the thigh. The ones worn by the men were as short as his own (and those were the soberest, less ornate kind) or as long as the one he had worn as Kaskar. There was a show of rich embroidery and some gems on the longer tunics. The wearers of these usually had one or two attendants in shorter tunics. Earrings were visible, but the headbands were plain and much narrower than the one he had worn, being fashioned of thread-worked strips of cloth rather than precious metal.

  When they came to the building, Grishilda waited for him to draw level with her.

  “Go through,” she told him. Ready again in her hands was the same silver plate she had shown to the door guard. Now she wove a path through the crowd until they reached a latticed gate. Beyond that were a series of capsule-like objects, strung together bead fashion. Doors in their sides gave access to an interior where four travelers might sit.

  Grishilda showed her plaque to the gateman. He studied it, then reached behind him and pulled a length of chain. Within a moment or two a man in a matching uniform came running. He in turn eyed Grishilda’s passport, if that was what it was, and then bowed his head, said something in a low voice, and led the way down the line of bullet-shaped carriages to one which he opened with a flourish, waiting only until they were inside to close the door firmly.

  Ramsay’s companion dropped her cloak with an audible sigh.

  “Good. Safe here. Alone—no one else—”

  There were four seats, half reclining. She selected one, seated herself, and again adjusted a seat belt, wa
ving him to the one beside her. But Grishilda was not relaxing for any trip. Instead, she was about to fulfill Thecla’s command that she teach their tongue to this pseudo-serving man.

  And Grishilda had the firmness of one who knew well her duty and had no intention of shirking it. Ramsay found himself already at work before the car in which he sat began to vibrate, and he believed they were on their way. There were no windows to give glimpses of the country and perhaps so distract him from his lessons. And the woman worked hard.

  She not only pursued the method of pointing and naming some object, but she produced from the chest a series of pages loosely ringed together at one corner. Whether this passed as a book Ramsay could not tell—but he concentrated on learning with almost the same fervor as she did on teaching. Perhaps if he could learn enough to understand, he could also discover the nature of this strange—dream? Somehow he was not so sure that it was a dream. Though he could not imagine what else held him.

  His mouth was dry from repeating words, though his vocabulary had greatly expanded, when Grishilda turned to press a button on the wall near her hand.

  “We shall eat,” she told him, “drink. This is tiring—to teach one from the beginning.”

  Within moments, the wall of the compartment before them opened in two narrow slots and covered trays slid forward to rest upon a shelf which then bore them within reach. Ramsay snapped up the cover of his and found, in sections, a square of the yellowish cake bread, something that appeared to be dried fruit (slightly shriveled pears and peaches), and a larger portion of thick stew. In addition, there was a tube from which Grishilda skillfully twisted the top, demonstrating how this was done. Inside that a dark liquid sloshed.

  Ramsay spooned up the stew. It had an odd flavor which was not altogether to his liking, but he was hungry and this was food. The drink was tart, he thought perhaps some form of fruit juice. He ate and drank with a will, though Grishilda named all the dishes and made him repeat those after her, shaking her head at times, as she had all through her lessons, at his faltering attempts to give just the right accent to some syllables.

  Though he might not be able as yet to please his instructress’s ear when it came to accent, Ramsay was learning. He could understand, if she spoke slowly enough, longer and more complicated sentences. They had finished the meal and pushed the tray shelves back into the wall before he took the initiative with a question:

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Kilsyth, the place of my lady when she wishes to be private, away from all. It is over the border, out of Ulad.”

  “We are in Ulad?”

  “Yes. We go now to Olyroun, which is my lady’s own country. Though they plan to take it from her.” There was a bitterness in her tone.

  “Who does so?”

  “Those of Ulad. They wish a hand-fasting with the heir to Ulad. My lady likes it not. But if she goes by her own wishes, then Ulad will seize power and Olyroun will be swallowed up. If she hand-fasts, then perhaps she still can hold rule, see that her people are not just servants to the Empire.”

  “This heir to whom she must be hand-fasted— who is he?”

  “He is—was Kaskar.”

  “But—” Ramsay digested that. “Kaskar was—is dead.”

  “I know not the inner plan of this,” Grishilda said frankly. “I can tell you only what my lady has said, what I have seen with these two eyes of mine. When we came unwillingly to Lom, where rules the Emperor, my lady went to wait upon the old Empress. Her Splendor Enthroned Quendrida told my lady some secret which lightened her heart. When she came back to me, she said there was naught for us to fear, she would never be forced to accept Kaskar.

  “Shortly thereafter came the news that he was dead, quickly through some failure of his heart. Then they bore him into the Resting Place of Kings for a space, before they would set him in the tomb of his House. My lady is not an Enlightened One, for she could not leave her country and go into a Grove, setting aside all things of this world. She had a duty first to her House and her people. But the Way of the Enlightened Ones has already beckoned to her, and a little of their knowledge has been given her.

  “Thus, hearing that Kaskar was dead, she went to petition that he not be weighed too harshly at the Final Gate, and that perhaps mercy would temper justice when he stood there. Then she found— you—”

  “I am not Kaskar.”

  “So my lady swore. And because she possesses the Knowledge, I do believe her. Also, there was a great outcry when the bier was found empty and the guards enspelled— But that—” She smiled. “That last was my lady’s doing. How else could she have gotten you away? I do not know your secret, but she does. Now she says that you are in danger. Not only does Ochall seek you, but there are others of nearly as great power who wish Kaskar dead as much as Ochall wishes him alive.”

  “And who is Ochall?”

  She stared at him for a long moment before she answered. “Stranger, I do not know what you are, or whence you have come. But my lady has given me assurance concerning you and has said that what you ask of me that I can answer I should. But if you know not of Ochall, the Will of Iron, the Heart of Stone, that is hard to believe.

  “He is High Chancellor of Ulad and, since the Emperor has ailed in mind and body for some years, he is all-powerful. Kaskar was his thing to be ruled, not his Prince to have rule. All well knew that when the breath at last left the Emperor, then Ochall would command, behind the screen of Kaskar, a will-less prince who was his creature. Now, Ochall believes that the Prince perhaps did not die in truth, but lay drugged and has been taken away by those who have good reason to want him kept from the throne. But the High Chancellor has no proof. And those others, those perhaps who have the most to gain by Kaskar’s death—my lady fears that they mean to make his death a true fact—to be able to show a body to the people.”

  “But I am not Kaskar!” Ramsay repeated. “And how did I get here?”

  Grishilda shook her head. “I do not know. Though perhaps my lady does. But such information must be part of that secret that the old Empress entrusted to her. When my lady comes to Kilsyth, she can answer your questions, the ones I do not understand. It is true that you are not Kaskar. For now a different person looks from his eyes, speaks with his tongue. That this is true — it is a thing to marvel at. But because you look like Kaskar, you walk in danger until this matter is righted. That is why my lady sends you to Kilsyth, where you may lie in safety until she comes.”

  Ramsay shook his head. This was unbelievable — without logic, the deepest sort of hallucination. Yet it was plain Grishilda believed that what she said was the entire truth as she knew it. And he must learn from her all that he might, hoping to stumble on the reality behind this wild experience.

  FOUR

  The vibration ceased as if the train (if that was what one might call their present vehicle) had halted. Grishilda put a hand within one of the slits of her overvest and once more produced the silver plaque with the cat’s head.

  “We are at the border,” she said. “This, my lady’s own token, will take us through without question. But”—she turned her head and pointed to one of the seats behind her—“since you play the liege man, play it well, wait humbly on me who am First Companion to my lady.”

  Ramsay got her point and quickly changed to the seat behind his supposed employer. He hoped no one would ask him any questions that would make his tumbling tongue betray him.

  The door through which they had entered slid aside. A man wearing a tight cap that was nearer to a hood, bearing a cat badge on its front, looked in. Grishilda said nothing, merely held up the plaque. The intruder blinked and then bowed his head, and the door slid shut again.

  “Good!” That word exploded from Ramsay’s companion, as if she had been holding her breath to expel it. Maybe she had not been as confident as she had claimed to be. But Ramsay waited until the train was in motion again before he rejoined her at the front of the car.

  “Do we go far?” h
e asked.

  “Not so. Shortly, we shall reach Matering which serves the Hill Province as a station. There will be one waiting for us there. Kilsyth was once a hunting lodge, before my lady came to rule. Those of the Groves do not kill; they maintain life. Thus, there are hunters no longer at Kilsyth, only those who are protecting the life of the Vorst Forest, not draining its strength. Now—” She pursed her lips, and there was a small frown crease between her eyes. “Listen well, man who is not Kaskar. You cannot play the servant at Kilsyth, for those who live at the lodge would speedily know that you were not one of them. Thus my lady has used her wits and thought of yet another role for you. But you must understand and be able to act it well. You are now Arluth, and you come from Tolcarne—which is overseas.

  “Those of Tolcarne follow the old ways, and House battles House in deadly feud. It is a wild country, and blood spills easily there. As Arluth, you are of my lady’s blood, but four generations separated from her House. And you are the heir remaining, whose life must be protected lest your House die and there be no male left to stand before the Heart of the House on High Days. You lie under blood ban of a mighty feud and so have come into hiding with the welcome of my lady. Do you understand?”

  Wilder and wilder, mused Ramsay. Though what Grishilda said was easy enough to grasp.

  “Yes. I am Arluth and am in hiding because I have enemies from some feud.”

  “Thus,” Grishilda swept on, “you will be at Kilsyth, and our men there will have excellent reason to beware of any stranger who might come seeking you. They will believe him either a blood enemy from Tolcarne or else a bought killer hired by such. So, if any of Ulad suspect and send after us, their coming will be known. You will have good excuse to keep indoors—in the Red King’s chambers to which there is only one door, since Guron the Red had good reason to fear a killer himself. As soon as my lady can, she will come to us with what she has learned.”