"Carolinus," he said sternly, "have you sent me on some kind of mission against the forces of the Dark Powers again?"
"Sent you on a mission—?" Carolinus glared at him.
"Like you did last year, without my permission. When I found myself in France in a one-on-one duel with Malvinne; all of which turned out to be your doing," Jim said. "Have you or have you not sent me out to joust with the Dark Powers, again?"
"Interesting," said Carolinus, in an abruptly mild and thoughtful voice. "Let me see…"
His eyes became abstracted, and he stood for a number of seconds apparently lost in thought. Then his eyes focused once more, this time seriously, and came back on Jim.
"The answer is, James," he said, still mildly, "yes, you do seem to be involved with the Dark Powers, once more; and, no, it wasn't my idea you be so. It looks like either the Dark Powers themselves are actively starting to seek you out as an opponent again; or else Chance or History have some reason for pushing you into situations in which you and the Dark Powers, er—joust—as you put it."
"Well," said Jim, thoroughly out of temper by this time, "if that's the case, how do I reach Chance or History and let them know that I want no part of this?"
"Reach—" Carolinus stared at him. "Chance and History are natural forces, James! You can't talk to them the way you could talk to a human being. You can't even talk to them the way you could talk to the Dark Powers. The Dark Powers at least have some sentience. Chance and History are natural forces operating according to their own purposes. Even if you could reach them and talk to them, they wouldn't change for you, or move an inch from what they were going to do anyway."
"But you said one of them might have chosen me," said Jim. "Naturally I got the idea—"
"It's a different thing!" snapped Carolinus. He paused a moment. "How to explain? James, even you must have heard of King Arthur."
"Heard of him?" said Jim, annoyed. "I studied the Arthurian legend. He was either a myth or a series of myths which were originally thought to be Celtic, but which new evidence indicates may have migrated west with the Roman soldiery from as far east as the steppes of South Russia, from the myths of an ancient people there, the Sarmatians—
"If you please!" Carolinus interrupted him.
Jim checked.
"Don't blither!" said Carolinus.
"I—" began Jim indignantly.
Carolinus held up a minatory finger.
"Nonsense, James," he said. "Never make statements you're not sure of. This century is a lot closer than your original one to the time when the actual King Arthur lived—and indeed was involved in many of the things that legend has him involved in, though not as quite such a heroic figure. He may not have been so bright with glory as young Prince Edward, whom we rescued from Malvinne—"
So, we rescued Edward from Malvinne, did we? thought Jim, a little bitterly. Carolinus had been home in England all the time—well, almost all the time. But Jim did not put these thoughts into words. He was more interested in getting information from Carolinus than in debating with him. The truth of the matter, which Carolinus knew as well as Jim did, was that Carolinus's only important connection with the rescue of Edward, the Crown Prince of England, had been putting Jim, Brian, Dafydd, Giles and Aargh to work on it.
In fact, the whole truth was all Carolinus had done (outside of secretly lending Jim magical credit) had been to point them in the direction of making that rescue and wait for them to do it. The equivalent of saying "sic 'em" to a dog.
"Still," Carolinus was going on, "Arthur was a potent figure in the hands of History and Chance—mainly of History. The point I'm making to you, my dear boy, is that there are people who find themselves at the point of a knife when food is to be scooped from the plate. Arthur was one. It may well be that because of your particular and rather peculiar background in originating on a future world, you are also at the point of such a knife. If so, there's nothing you, I, or anyone else can do about it. History and Chance may determine that you'll be locked into one conflict with the Dark Powers, after another. I hope that's not so. But on the other hand—it could be."
"Thank you," said Jim. "You're very cheering."
"Merely telling you the truth, my boy," said Carolinus. "Do you understand now?"
"No," said Jim.
"In that case," said Carolinus, "take my word for it. You've no other choice, anyway."
"Well, if that's how it is," said Jim, "and I'm destined to have battle after battle with the Dark Powers, shouldn't I be entitled to a little help? You're supposed to be my teacher. But outside of the first few moments, in which you taught me how to spell myself out of a dragon body and back into a human and vice-versa, you've simply turned me loose to find my own way and solve my problems as best I can. Of course, you did lend me that magical credit."
"And you've been successful," said Carolinus, "even when I didn't help."
"With a lot of luck, yes," said Jim.
"Maybe luck goes along with not being helped," said Carolinus. "Remember, you come from a different place, you see things differently, and consequently you may perceive opportunities where somebody born and raised on this world, in this time, would not. Perhaps that's your luck."
"Nonetheless," said Jim stubbornly, "I think I could use some help from you. At least I could use some advice."
"Advice," said Carolinus, setting down the candle on an already overloaded table, so that it perched precariously on top of a pile of papers, which it could set on fire in an instant, on over-tipping. Not that any candle of Carolinus's would ever tip over, thought Jim. It wouldn't dare. "—is something I'm always glad to give you—if I have it to give. By all means ask me whatever you'd like to know."
"All right," said Jim, "how about the Hollow Men?"
"Oh," Carolinus made a dismissing gesture, "you mean those shades of rejected souls up along the old Roman wall that Emperor Hadrian had ordered built, roughly between what's now England and Scotland? They're essentially harmless."
"They haven't proved to be harmless," said Jim. "They've taken over an area south of and into the Cheviot Hills, which they keep for themselves; and they've raised trouble by preying on the neighbors and chance passers-by. We were almost the victim of some five of them on our way to Castle de Mer to tell them about Giles—oh, by the way, Giles is alive."
"I was aware of that," said Carolinus frostily, "also that he has regained his human form. Don't try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs. As far as the Hollow Men goes, officially they're still just a nuisance. Granted—a 'nuisance' in terms of this particular century and the conditions under which we live; which is a little more serious than a nuisance caused by the neighbor's dog on your front lawn, in the time you come from. But nonetheless, a nuisance."
"But what if the fact that they were a nuisance was deliberately put to use in some way by the Dark Powers, to further an attack by Scotland into England? An attack that might end up with Scotland holding at least part of Northumberland and being in a position to mount a second-front attack on the north of England, if King Jean succeeds in making a landing in the south and attacking England with French forces from there?"
"Hmmm," said Carolinus, pulling on his beard, "it's theoretically possible, I suppose. More than that, it could be a real possibility, given a number of other factors. But a French invasion—bah!"
"There's certainly a strong rumor of it—and of invasion from Scotland into Northumberland," said Jim, feeling no need to tell Carolinus such second-front plans had been an accepted historic fact to the historians of his world, "and the Hollow Men seem determined to make a real problem of themselves, by stirring up the countryside. Now, there may be something to be made of that, in terms of an attack from Scotland, and there may not."
"So far as that's concerned, James," said Carolinus, "you have me. I know nothing of military tactics and strategy. Also, I know very little about intrigue and politics. In any case, if this is the situation, what do you plan to do about it?"
<
br /> "I don't know," said Jim, "but if Chance has me involved in that situation up there I'm in a pickle."
"Pickle? Pickle?" said Carolinus, irresistibly reminding Jim of a mechanical bird in a cuckoo clock. However, he did not feel it would be right to mention this, and besides there were more important things to talk about.
"Yes," he said, "you know what I'm talking about. Angie was very much against my making that trip up to Castle de Mer. You must remember that. You showed up in the middle of it and argued on my side of the case, which gave me whatever chance of winning I had."
"It's pleasant," observed Carolinus complacently, folding his hands over his small stomach, "to see you acknowledging my aid and usefulness."
"At any rate," said Jim, ignoring the other's words, "the agreement I had with Angie was that we would take, Brian and Dafydd and I, about ten days going up there. That's what we did. Then we would stay only a week, and take ten days to be back again. So that I wouldn't be gone any longer than a month. Now, if you're right and Chance is pitchforking me into some kind of situation up there, I may well be stuck there for more than a week. Do you suppose you could get in touch with Angie for me, and explain the situation to her? That I may be delayed a little while, but I'll be back as soon as I absolutely can?"
"I am hardly your messenger boy!" said Carolinus, his beard bristling in outrage.
"I was asking it as a favor," Jim said.
"A favor!" Carolinus snorted. Then the stiffness went out of his beard to a certain extent. "Well, I suppose I could pass the word along. Yes. Yes, I could do that. I see the situation… in fact—"
His eyes became abstract for a moment, a sure sign that his mind was seeing or doing things other than that which concerned his body at the moment.
"It may be I see it better than you. I've been concerned with getting a certain small thing taken care of—but that's," he said, becoming suddenly brisk and rubbing his hands together, "another situation entirely. Never mind that. I take it you haven't met the girl then, yet?"
"Girl?" echoed Jim. "What girl?"
"You'll find out when you meet her," said Carolinus, waving the question away. "The important thing is you want to know what you ought to do now. Hollow Men, a Scottish invasion, this selkie friend of yours… yes, you're definitely tied up in a moment of History that the Dark Powers are trying to exploit. Simply, what you should do is follow your nose. Go ahead and do about the matter whatever seems best to you."
"Just do what I want?" Jim asked.
"Exactly," answered Carolinus. "You've got to choose one side or another, Chance or History. Take History. Go along with it. You know why it's better not to go along with Chance, I imagine."
"It's—more risky, I suppose," said Jim, a little uncertainly.
"It's sensible!" snapped Carolinus. "Think about it for a minute. No one can be lucky all the time. Can they?"
"No," admitted Jim, "that's true enough."
"That means, whenever you try to work with Chance, sooner or later you're going to lose everything you've got. How could it be otherwise?"
The truth of this seemed so undeniable that Jim merely nodded.
"Well," said Carolinus briskly, "that takes care of that. You know what you're going to do. I need to get back to my sleep—if I can sleep after being aroused like this. The door's behind you. Open it, and out you go."
Jim turned, somewhat dazedly, his mind spinning with all sorts of possibilities. He opened the front door to Carolinus's cottage and stepped out through it. He turned back to see Carolinus in the doorway holding up the candle.
"Good night," he said.
"Good—" The last half of Carolinus's answer was cut off by the slam of the door.
Chapter Six
Jim found himself shaken rather violently by the shoulder. It baffled him completely; since a second before he had been standing on the walk outside of Carolinus's cottage with the door being shut in his face. Then he became more awake and discovered that it was Brian standing over him and shaking him.
"—And wake up!" Brian was saying. "Are you going to sleep the morning away? I've had breakfast already and Giles is down in the Great Hall starving to death, poor lad, because he won't eat without you. He thinks it's not mannerly—which of course it isn't, for one of our hosts. James! Wake up! Get up and come along down!"
"I'm—awake," growled Jim, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering with the energetic workout Brian was giving him. "Stop shaking my damn shoulder!"
Brian stopped.
"You're sure you're awake?" he asked.
"How else could I be?" muttered Jim, still in a growl. He yawned prodigiously and then unrolled himself from his mattress. Like the others, he had slept in his clothes with only his boots off. He fumbled for these now and began to draw them on.
"You're sure, now?" said Brian. "I've known many a man fall right back to sleep, after sitting up and talking to you as sensibly as you please. Then you turn your back for a moment and he's snoring."
"I don't snore," said Jim.
"Certainly you do," said Brian.
"You snore," said Jim. "You're probably hearing yourself."
"No, no. I was wide awake at the time, just last night—or the night before. And I've heard you before that, James. You definitely snore—not loudly, I'll grant. Not like Giles, for example. That nose of his is a regular hunting horn for snores. But you do snore."
"I don't!" snarled Jim, and got to his feet.
It was all right for Brian. Brian was already up and had had his breakfast, which always made his first morning grumping over into his usual cheerful humor. But Jim had not eaten anything yet, was barely awake, and in fact his body—most of it—felt as if it were still asleep. He craved nothing so much as to crawl back into his bedding and drop off again. But clearly, Brian had effectively been sent with what was a polite summons for him; and it would be the worst sort of manners to ignore that.
He followed Brian down through three levels of the peel tower and out through the kitchen—it was most odd to always walk through a kitchen to come to a dining area—and saw Giles seated alone at the high table with the inevitable jug and wine cups in front of him. Giles jumped to his feet as Brian and Jim came in.
"James!" he cried, as full of morning joyfulness as Brian had seemed to be.
"Morning," growled Jim, sitting down at the table. He looked at all of the pitchers in front of him, hoping for one that held small beer, for both his mouth and throat were dry from sleep. But he found only wine. He poured a cup of that and swallowed it.
Actually, it went down fairly well.
Giles, meanwhile, must have been signaling the kitchen, because in almost the same instant he sat down his empty cup, platters were put before both of them full of boiled beef and heavy dark bread. He picked up a chunk of bread, thinking he had little appetite, but after chewing into it, then into some of the boiled beef, he began to realize more and more that he was literally hungry. Shortly, he was immersed in simply eating.
Brian sat silent, letting them get some food into them. Finally, Jim's plateful was reduced to a heap of bones, the bread was gone, and Jim had had several more cups of wine. He was surprised to find himself feeling very cheerful indeed. Also his mind was awake and beginning to work, remembering his dream conversation with Carolinus. He had six days left of the original schedule. He should use them profitably.
He raised his head and looked at Brian and Giles, both of them seated opposite him and drinking from their wine cups. Giles had eaten twice what Jim had, in little more than half the time.
"Well!" said Jim.
"Better, eh, James?" said Brian. "A man needs something in his stomach before he can expect to be polite toward the world."
Jim thought that Brian was exactly right; but at the same time he remembered how he had been shaken awake, and did not feel that he owed the other anything in the way of an explanation or an apology. In any case, he was awake now.
"I think you're right, Brian,"
he said. "Anyway, I'm fine, now. Ready for anything."
"Good!" burst out Giles. "Someone else came in this morning that I want you to meet. My sister."
He twisted his neck looking around the Great Hall.
"Where has that lass got to, now?" he said. He lifted his voice and shouted—and Jim discovered that he was almost as good as his brothers at making himself heard. "Liseth! Liseth! Where have you got to? Sir James is here now. LISETH!"
"I'm coming!" floated back in a feminine equivalent of the male de Mer voice, from somewhere beyond the kitchen and above them. It was perfectly amazing, thought Jim, how the people of this family could make themselves heard over noises and distances both horizontal and vertical where it might be thought that no human voice could reach.
"She's younger than any of us except Christopher," Giles said to Jim apologetically. "She has trouble sitting still for a moment. But she should be right here any second now. I told her I wanted her to meet you. Also, Father told her that she should meet you as soon as possible—should meet you and Dafydd and Brian, but she's already met Brian."
"I see," said Jim, letting his breakfast settle on his stomach. He braced himself for the coming meeting, wondering a little what a female version of the de Mer features, with their dramatic hooked noses, could look like.
"Here I am," sang a young woman's voice right behind him.
He started to turn, but by that time she had come around to stand beside the bench on which he sat, so he could see her simply by turning his head.
He stared at her. She was totally unlike what he had expected.
She was delicately boned, in contrast to her male relatives, so that she gave the impression of being almost a waif by comparison. The deep-set, selkie-dark eyes were there. And her hair was as flaxen a color as Giles's. Outside of that; everything was different.
After nearly two years in this world Jim had begun to pick up the reading of rank and duty from what individuals were wearing. In her case she wore a floor-length russet gown, with a high circular neck. Her hair was in two thick braids that dropped down behind it over her rather delicate-looking shoulder blades under the dress.
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