by Andre Norton
Three
The Countess Marcala of Cragden studied the amulet she had finally managed to filch from the little chest where her husband kept certain items hidden from view. It depicted a winged creature, furred rather than feathered, and it had tiny, glittering yellow gems for eyes. The whole artifact possessed a gray sheen, as though well rubbed. It did not look new.
I can't imagine why the Dowager insisted so much on my stealing this insignificant thing, she thought. Nevertheless, she had been successful, had followed orders. At her earliest opportunity, she would give it to Ysa. So thinking, she slipped it into a small pouch and tucked that into her bodice.
There were more important matters to think about than a silly amulet. Count
Gaurin of the Nordors, and a man rumored to be not only the new NordornKing but also Gaurin's cousin, were supposed to arrive in Rendelsham this day. With them would be the Young Dowager, King Peres's mother, and a large retinue of fighting men.
And Ashen of Ash, of course.
Marcala had never entirely gotten over her suspicion and jealousy of Ashen. The
King's by-blow daughter had married Gaurin and Marcala herself was safely the wedded wife of Harous, Count and Lord High Marshal of Rendel. However, Marcala had not forgotten that Harous had once had designs on Ashen, possibly even thinking that, through her, he might obtain a grasp on Rendel's throne. She knew her husband; nothing in the reach of his ambition could surprise her.
No, I am being silly, she reminded herself firmly. I am his wife, and the
Dowager Queen Ysa is my friend. Together we are more than a match for Harous's ambitions—yes, and Ashen's, too, if she has any hidden away under that innocent guise of hers.
Marcala turned her attention toward selecting the gown she would wear when she journeyed from Cragden Castle to Rendelsham. It was so difficult, these days, to find something fashionable and at the same time warm.
Two hours later, clad in peach velvet, she was being ushered into the Dowager
Queen Ysa's chamber dedicated to the reception of honored guests. Ysa's face and figure, Marcala noted, were still as youthful in appearance as they had been shortly after the Four Rings had come into her possession. But the Rings themselves adorned hands that were showing signs of age. Perhaps, Marcala thought, there was a limit to how much the Dowager could enhance her looks. Or perhaps Ysa hadn't noticed that her hands were bony and heavy with veins, the backs showing many brownish blotches. The Dowager was even now holding these hands out to Marcala in greeting.
"Welcome, Countessl" Ysa exclaimed. "What a bright spot of color you always bring to the Court."
Marcala took the outstretched hands in her own, and dipped a graceful curtsey.
"Thank you, Your Highness," she said. "I wish you sun and warmth for the day, and for many days to come."
"Come and sit with me for a few minutes, before I have to attend the Council.
Many of my nobles, including your husband, are gathering and wish to speak with me."
"And also with the King?" Marcala murmured. She held an innocent expression as best she could when Ysa glanced at her sharply.
"Later. First they wish to consult with me. They have not told me why."
"They recognize both your wisdom and your experience," Marcala answered. "In the meantime, I have brought you a present. Just a tiny thing, a trinket, but something you once said that you wanted."
Ysa raised one elegant eyebrow. "Then I am sure that I will like it, whatever you have for me." She gestured and her ladies retired, drawing the door to but not latching it. It was well known among them that the Dowager and the Countess liked private conversation.
"What is it?" Ysa asked, when she was certain they were alone.
"Just this." Marcala opened her peach-colored velvet handbag which matched her gown, and drew out a smaller, dark gray velvet pouch, tied with a silver cord.
The Dowager opened it at once.
"Ah," Ysa breathed, looking at the little amulet. "You found it at last."
"Yes, but I fear that my lord Harous shall miss it sooner or later."
"Has he used it, to your knowledge?"
"No, but that is only as far as I am aware."
"Where was it?"
"There is a secret room at Cragden, off the apartment we share. Harous thought I didn't know about it. However, in my, um, former life, it was my business to discover such things."
Ysa nodded. Marcala's former occupation, earning her the title of "Queen of
Spies," had brought her to the Dowager's attention in the beginning. "I am glad to know that you have lost none of your skill," Ysa said.
"It was necessary to wait until I was certain I would not be discovered. The hiding place is small, and contains only a chest and a large book, on which the chest rested. In it I found a metal headband like a diadem, set with an oval adornment, and a few other odds and ends including the amulet you now hold. The chest had been locked, and I relocked it. I did not disturb the book."
Ysa laughed, the sound like the cackle of a vorsehen. "Maybe he will think his little trinket flew away on its own," she suggested with a sly smile.
"Perhaps. I hope so." Marcala closed her velvet handbag. "I would rather that the disappearance never be discovered."
"What of the headband?"
"I recognized it for what it was, though the oval gem was something new to me.
It is a Diadem of Concealment. It makes a fog appear around the wearer, so that he may go unrecognized when he wishes."
There was a discreet tap at the door. Ysa tucked the amulet back into the little pouch and put it in her bodice. "That will be Lady Grisella, to tell me that the nobles are assembled. Thank you, Marcala. I will hide this gift in a safe place."
She arose from her chair; Marcala stood as well, dipping another curtsey as the
Dowager swept from the chamber in a cloud of spicy perfume. Thus alone, Marcala decided to wander the corridors, hoping to discover what the great matter was that had brought the nobles of Rendel to meet with their one-time queen, rather than petition an audience with King Peres, Ysa's grandson.
The Dowager Ysa knew full well what the meeting with her nobles was about. Those men who had survived the ill-fated foray into the Bog had brought her the news of its failure, and so it was only a matter of time before questions would be asked by the ranking nobles. Her only surprise was in the numbers assembled before her. The last time so many of the high ones of the land had gathered had been at the Grand Tourney, when all the nobles, young and old alike, had met in friendly combat or—in a certain few instances Ysa preferred not to think about—not so friendly combat.
Looking at the men around the Council table, Ysa was sure she could see glimmers of the same kind of animosity so much in evidence on that occasion. Only this time she knew it must be directed at her. Well, she could deflect it. She had done this, and more, in the past.
"How now, gentlemen?" she said, seating herself at the head of the table. "What brings you here with such gloomy countenances? Come now, be frank with me, I pray you."
Rohan of the Sea-Rovers was the first to speak. "Men who said they were under your orders tried to burn the Bog." He held up his left arm and stripped back the sleeve to show the newly healed burns. "It was only by accident that I myself survived."
Rohan, again, Ysa thought with distaste. At the tourney, it had been Rohan's doing that the man Flavian, the Magician, had been revealed as Flavielle, the
Sorceress. It was well known that this person had been in Ysa's employ, and she had avoided censure only by claiming innocence of all knowledge of what
Flavielle had been doing. Well, as then, so now.
"I assure you I know nothing of such orders. Anyway, what profit would one gain by setting fire to the Bog?" Ysa said. "And how could such be accomplished? The place is mainly water, from the accounts I've heard, frozen these days, and what isn't water is worthless."
"They had a powder that burned when spread upon the wat
er and anything else it touched," Rohan said. "As to what good it would do to burn it, only the one who ordered it done would know."
Clearing a house of rats with fire did good also, Ysa thought, even though the rats might not agree. "To repeat, I know nothing of any such orders," she said.
"I assume that all is now well in that strange place?"
Royance, Head of the Council, seated at the far end of the table opposite to her, nodded. "The fire has been put out," he said. "Since then, there has been no word. I can only hope that there are no unfortunate aftereffects."
Harous, sitting at Ysa's right hand, spoke up. "Then it is of no importance now who, pretending to speak for our gracious lady, made use of fire. No great harm has been done, excepting the injury suffered by our young friend." He nodded to
Rohan, and Rohan returned the gesture. "And I see that even that was a minor matter, and he has healed rapidly."
Gaurin then spoke. "Allow me to introduce my cousin, once Prince Hynnel, son of
Cyornas NordornKing, and now King in exile himself. He has brought news from the north."
Hynnel arose and looked around the table. Almost all of the Council were in attendance, and a few others of the nobility as well. Ysa followed his glance.
Gattor of Bilth examined his fingernails, his expression typically sleepy and bored. Wittern of Rowan, attended by his deputy Edgard, sat near his old friend
Royance. Valk of Mimon was also present, as well as Jakar of Vacaster. Who was missing? Liffen of Lerk-land. But another was in attendance—Ysa searched her memory. It was the one-time sergeant who had been implicated in the late King
Florian's abduction of Ashen, for what purpose Ysa preferred not to consider.
What was his name? Oh, yes—Lathrom. But why was he here? He was in no wise of the nobility. However, she had heard he had been elevated to the position of
Gaurin's second in command. Perhaps he was here as Edgard attended Wittern. But
Gaurin was in no wise in need of a deputy. It was disturbing.
"Madame," Hynnel said, "let me speak plainly. As one sovereign whose throne is no more to another royal lady whose successor occupies the chair she once held,
I say to you that regardless of who issued what orders and what was the outcome, we must all cease pleasant Court pastimes of pitting one faction against another."
Ysa started to speak, and Hynnel silenced her with a gesture. "I make no accusations," he said. "It is simply a part of the kind of life you lead, and that I once was a part of. I know these games well. Fortunately, there has been, as Lord Marshal Harous so astutely notes, no great or lasting damage done and few lives lost. The fire is out, and what was in the past is gone. Let us now address ourselves to much greater matters."
"I think you speak of the question of Rendel's safety, King Hynnel," Ysa said.
She held up her hands so that all could see what adorned her thumbs and forefingers. She told the litany of the Four Great Rings. "Oak, Yew, Ash, and
Rowan. These symbolize the Four Great Families of our country. It is through these Rings that I have found the strength to do what had to be done, to protect
Rendel. Tirelessly have I worked, as all here can attest to you."
"There is no need," Hynnel replied. "It is known far and wide how great have been your efforts. Pray you, however, please do not name me king. I am but a
Nordor, perhaps better born than some, but not king until my homeland is free of what has destroyed it and what now advances to do the same to Rendel."
"The Ice Dragons, and their riders," she said, and was rewarded by looks of surprise on many faces. This was surely a piece of knowledge that would make all forget any lingering questions concerning that unfortunate incident in the Bog.
"Madame?" One man—Lord Royance—was not surprised, but wary, and Ysa suddenly recognized that she had blundered. Only then did she remember that she had never mentioned the glimpse of Ice Dragons she had had through the eyes of her flying servant, Visp, nor that she had held this secret for some time.
Hynnel sat down again and looked from her to Royance, puzzled and wary in his turn.
"I did not think you commanded so much Power," Lord Royance said. His silver brows were drawn together. "How did you know of these creatures, of which I have only recently been informed?"
"I saw them in a dream last night," she added hastily, "as well as the armies that follow them. I was frightened, and then I awoke. However, I thought it only a grim fancy born of overwork, but with King—I mean, Lord Hynnel's presence, he obviously being a refugee from just what I saw when my mind was roaming, set free in sleep, I now must think it a true sending."
"Indeed," Royance said.
Ysa breathed a little easier. He seemed accepting of her explanation and not inclined to pursue the matter. She reminded herself again not to underestimate
Royance, or, for that matter, any of them. Complacency was her worst enemy, especially in these perilous times. "What then do you make of all this?" she asked Royance. "As Head of the Council, surely you must have a recommendation."
"I do. The time I have dreaded for so long is upon us. We must now form our armies, to march out and fight these Ice Dragons and their riders and any other followers, before they can do the same here as they have done elsewhere."
Ysa had long since come to that conclusion, since the day she had seen the destruction of the NordornKing's palace by the great pale beasts that breathed crystals of ice. If she closed her eyes the sight of the aged NordornKing being cut down with his nobles and stretched cold upon the ground came back much too vividly for any comfort. She rubbed the Rings on her hands, but they brought her little comfort.
Why else, she thought, did these great nobles think she had ordered the destruction of the Bog, if not to clear out that which would only be a detriment to the effort of war. Who could say what those mud-rooted less-than-humans might do, once all the army had marched north and they would be free to roam through the countryside at will, no longer confined behind the Barrier River?
But that question was, as Hynnel had noted, of the past.
"Let it be as my good lords advise," she said graciously. "Assemble your forces, and if you require an order from my grandson, King Peres, you have only to ask."
"Much of what this assembly is responsible for is already accomplished, Your
Highness," Gaurin said. "We will have four great armies—"
"Four? Your Nordors, yes, and the army of Rendel, but then who?"
Rohan cleared his throat to speak again. Always Rohan, Ysa thought with some bitterness. Why was he forever meddling?
"The Sea-Rovers, Your Highness. You made pact with my grandfather, Snolli. Under the terms of that pact I dare speak for him, though he is not yet aware that his ships will be called into service."
"That makes three. And where does the fourth come from?"
"It comes from the Bog," Rohan said.
Ysa gasped and others in the room scowled at the idea. "The Bog? No—" she said.
"Why not? Do they have less to lose from the terrors advancing on our land than we do? Can they not fight, at need? There are plenty to tell the tale of how fiercely they defend themselves. Therefore, as the Sea-Rovers made pact with
Rendel, so did we make pact with the Bog-people. They may not be as we are, Your
Highness, but when the fighting begins, we need every man we can muster."
Around the table, most of the ones who had frowned had now begun to nod reluctant agreement. Wittern of Rowan, King Peres's maternal grandfather and arguably the ranking noble in the room, spoke up. "The youngster makes sense," he said. "If only I were twenty years younger—even ten years younger—I would be marching out myself."
"And I," Royance said. "I could get together winter gear in a matter of days. In fact, I'm of a good mind—"
Gaurin bowed to the elderly noble. "Sir, your valor does you nothing but credit.
But as it has always been, sometimes the situati
on requires that a few of the wisest must stay behind to manage the affairs of state while those others of us go and fight. Thus it is now. Let your young relative, Nikolos, lead your muster of troops in your stead. If you will take my advice, engage Steuart as well. He is an excellent young man, one who has conducted himself well both during his training for knighthood and after."
"Please, Royance," Ysa said. "Your presence is needed here in Rendelsham. Stay here with King Peres, and with me."
Royance bowed. "As you command, Your Highness." But he looked wistful.
"If the important business of our meeting is past, then I ask leave to return to