by Andre Norton
She had thought herself prepared, but she wasn't. There, in the whiteness, distorted through a cold, icy veil but nonetheless discernible, she saw the face of Rendel's greatest enemy. Sickened, she felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Inadvertently she touched the window. She recoiled, taking a step back and wringing her hands, as if they were covered with cold slime from this briefest of contacts. And this horror was what Rohan and Zazar were summoning her, a woman, to face?
"No," she murmured aloud into the chill air of the upper balcony. "I cannot. I will not."
At that moment she felt a stirring of the Four Great Rings on her forefingers and thumbs. Horrified, she stared down at them. They had begun to move, to slide from the places they had occupied for so many years. She clenched her fists so hard her joints cracked, but the Rings continued their slow, inexorable passage.
Her heart pounded in her throat. They were departing from her and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it. How could they betray her so, when she had been so faithful, had toiled for so many years in Rendel's service?
Or, she thought suddenly, was she the one betraying the Rings? Could it be that they had joined with the Wysen-wyf in their insistence that she engage in what must be the greatest folly of all?
Well, if so, if it would take her own life's blood to save Rendel from the putrid presence in the window—a putrescence that, she knew, was only a pale shadow of the reality— then so be it. A measure of calm descended upon her.
"I spoke from emotion. Now I speak from responsibility and duty. I will journey north," she said to the presence in the window, "and if the Powers decide that I must give up my life to destroy yours, then I am ready."
The Four Great Rings snugged themselves into place on her fingers again. She stroked their familiar presence gratefully and her heartbeat slowed. She felt, somehow, that had she persisted in her denial of Zazar's summons, not only would the Rings have gone she knew not where—certainly not to the wispy young King
Peres—but Rendel itself would have been doomed. It had been a near thing.
She could no longer bear to gaze at the creature depicted in the third window.
Not even a curtain newly nailed in place would keep the evil from radiating out and defiling the Fane. She turned, searching, and found a small piece of ornamental statuary. It depicted the Four Trees and was made of porcelain, not stone, but it would do. Shielding her face, she swung it and both the ornament and the window dissolved into tiny bits that no one could ever reassemble. Cold wind, mixed with snow, began to blow through the open hole where the window had been. She could not bear to touch this space, even in an attempt to fit the curtain back over the nails that had once held it.
She descended the stairs, throwing back the hood on her cloak so that all who saw her could recognize her. The Chief Priest of the Fane hurried toward her, apologetic.
"If only you had told us you were coming, Your Highness," he said, clasping his hands unctuously, "we would have given you the proper welcome befitting one of your exalted rank."
"A window has broken up there," Ysa said, pointing in the direction from which she had just come. "The upper balcony."
"We will have it replaced at once—"
"Do not bother," the Dowager ordered imperiously. "There are two more that should be taken out as well."
"But—but, Your Highness, the balcony will be dark—"
"Then light candles." A sudden suspicion caused Ysa to peer at the priest more closely. "You've never even seen those three windows, have you?"
The priest flushed. "No, Your Highness. There are rumors, but one does not pay attention to such things."
"You should have," she said bleakly. "The windows are unnatural. Take them out, and then close up the holes with brick and mortar. I want it to seem as if they never existed."
"It will be done." The priest bowed.
Then Ysa swept out of the Great Fane and back toward Rendelsham Castle. With her decision, she now felt much more like herself—strong and in charge of most of what went on in Rendelsham. Between now and the time when she must depart on this fool's errand—this brave act, she corrected herself silently—there was the little matter of Hegrin's imminent arrival at the city. Surely there would be time to arrange for an interview with this child.
Yes, Ysa definitely felt better now that a decision had been reached. She regretted only the timing. She might have to be more blunt than her usual wont as she put an end to any fantasies the girl might be entertaining about a relationship between her and King Peres.
"How very pretty you are!" Ysa exclaimed. "That sapphire and pearl necklace is very becoming and goes well with your lovely blue dress. Come here, and let me look at you."
Hegrin curtsied. "Thank you, Your Highness," she said. Obediently, she approached the Dowager.
"You look very much like your father," Ysa said. "Same shade of hair and eyes.
You're thin, though, like your mother, even though you have more color to you.
Haven't they been feeding you, tucked away as you have been, off in Rydale? If you don't finish your lessons, do they make you go to bed without any supper?"
Hegrin's golden giggle seemed to light up even the corners of the room. There was a dimple at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, I have a very good appetite!" she exclaimed. "My nurse, Beatha, says I should be very fat indeed, considering how much I like sweets."
"Here," Ysa said, amused. She offered the platter of spice cakes the girl had been eyeing. "Now let us sit down and become friends. You must tell me all about yourself. I am very interested, you see."
Ysa took her accustomed chair by the fire and Hegrin perched on one of the low seats where she could easily reach the cakes.
"There really isn't much to tell," the girl said, her voice muffled. She swallowed, and then took another bite. "They took me to a nice apartment where
I'm staying with Lady Rannore and Lady Anamara. I call both of them 'aunt' but it's very complicated. Lady Rannore is my aunt by marriage, and Lady Anamara is
Rohan's wife and he is almost my older brother. My mother and father are both away fighting in the North, and King Peres sent for me to come here. Beatha says the King is a kind of cousin."
"Yes, I suppose he is. His father and your mother were half-siblings."
"Beatha says that isn't too close a kinship—" Hegrin clamped her lips together, as if she knew she had said too much.
"Any kinship at all with the King is something to be cherished but not abused,"
Ysa said, helping herself to a spice cake before the child devoured them all.
"Do you understand what I am telling you?"
Hegrin's brow wrinkled as she thought, and Ysa was struck once more by how young and innocent she was. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about after all, but she had not remained in command of the land of Rendel through Boroth's reign and then Florian's and now Peres's by relaxing her vigilance.
"No, Your Highness, I don't understand. Not really." He-grin helped herself to the last spice cake.
"Well, never you mind," Ysa said. She allowed herself to pat the girl's hand.
"It's just grown-up matters. Worries and fears. Nothing to bother yourself about."
Hegrin's face cleared and she smiled again. "I'm glad. The King wants me to come and play a game of cards with him later. If I win, does that mean I am abusing my kinship with him?"
Ysa smiled in return. "Of course not!" she exclaimed. "He would be in danger of becoming a little spoiled, if everyone let him triumph—not that there are that many young people in Rendelsham Castle, at least none of high enough rank to invite to play games. Go ahead and win, if you can."
"Oh, I will, Your Highness," Hegrin said, laughing. "Rohan taught me that game a long time ago, and I know all the tricks!"
Then Ysa dismissed her, but kindly. Hegrin smiled when she curtsied, and pulled the door closed after her when she left.
The girl could be dissembling, Ysa thought as she stared into the fire. Still,
she was a cheerful, pleasant presence in these dark days. Perhaps too cheerful.
Giddy, Ysa decided.
What wretched timing that she, the Dowager Queen and true ruler of Rendel, had been—summoned was the only word for it—summoned to go on some fool's errand north, out of her warm and comfortable apartment. She could still refuse to go, but she didn't allow the thought expression, even to flutter in privacy at the edge of her mind. She could still feel the movement as the Great Rings had shifted on her fingers. No, not again would she risk such a thing.
Young Hegrin was, Ysa thought, ill enough chaperoned by her Aunt Anamara, but added to that the protection of Ysa's former daughter-in-law Rannore, who had proved herself a slut twice over, and the potential for mischief between Hegrin and King Peres became intolerable. The girl needed another guardian, that was plain enough, but who? Of her personal ladies, Ysa intended to take her favorites, Ladies Grisella, Gertrude, and Ingrid, so that she might be looked after properly. None of the other ladies were as steady, or as trustworthy as these three, and certainly not ones to whom the guardianship of such an important person as the daughter of Ashen and Gaurin could be entrusted.
Then Ysa smiled. When he died, the former king, Florian, Ysa's son, had been embroiled with a woman at Court. She had, of course, been no better than she should have been to form a liaison with Florian, but when she had been found out openly after having been duped by Florian to add poison to Ashen's medicine, she had undergone quite a remarkable transformation. Ysa had seen this sort of thing before, when someone's transgressions, upon being brought to light, then wrought a complete change of character. So it had been with Florian's wench—now what was her name? Ysa searched her memory. Ah, yes, that was it. Jacyne, wife of a minor court official. She had become the very model of propriety and moral rectitude.
She could be trusted to see to it that nothing questionable went on between
Hegrin and Peres while Ysa was unable to oversee the situation personally. Also,
Jacyne was bound to be grateful to know that her former transgressions had now officially been forgiven and her status at Court not only restored, but also actually enhanced. She would teach giddy little Hegrin to be sober and decorous, and would even be grateful for the opportunity. Ysa liked having people feel deep gratitude to her. It made them reliable, knowing as they did that what the
Dowager had bestowed, she could also take away.
Hegrin pulled the door shut behind her and leaned on it, her eyes closed.
"Did your interview with Ysa go badly?" Aunt Rannore asked.
"Would you like something to drink?" asked Aunt Ana-mara.
"No to the first question," Hegrin answered, "and yes to the second. You were right, Aunt Rannore. That lady is one who seems to see right through you." She accepted a steaming cup of fruit juice, such as she was accustomed to at home, and sipped from it. "She gave me cakes, but nothing else, not even water with a drop of wine in it. I suppose she thought me still a baby."
Her two aunts bade her sit and tell them all that had transpired between her and
Her Gracious Highness, the Dowager Queen Ysa.
"I tried to be myself, as you instructed, Aunt Anamara, and yet appear a bit simple and young for my years."
"That quality was, I think, what the Dowager found attractive about me. She thought I could be useful to her, and so I would have been, to my detriment, had not good fortune intervened," Anamara said soberly.
"I was in a different situation, of course, when I first came to Rendelsham,"
Aunt Rannore commented. "My one-time mother-in-law is very fond of having more power over people than even her exalted station entitles her to. But come, tell us. How did she appear? What did she say?"
"Actually," Hegrin said as she drained her cup, "she seemed a little distracted as if something more important was on her mind."
At that, Aunt Anamara's face clouded. "I know," she said. "Rohan has told me of his errand. His Granddam Zazar has given orders that Her Highness accompany him to the encampment of the Four Armies, to what purpose the Wysen-wyf will not say."
"She is my granddam also," Hegrin said thoughtfully. "And if she has decreed that the Dowager go northward, then go she shall. I wish I were going."
"As do we," Aunt Rannore said with a sigh. She put her hand on her abdomen. "If only my child were born—"
"And if only I had the least skill in arms," Aunt Anamara added. "The Army of
Rendel would be greater by two. But you, dear niece—"
"I know, I know," Hegrin said. "I'm too young. I've been told that all my life.
Too young to go hunting with Father, too old to cry about it, too small to climb the high towers at the Oakenkeep, too big to act like a boy in skirts." She smiled, knowing that a mischievous dimple danced at the corner of her mouth.
"But I'm not so young that I don't know about the plans to marry me to King
Peres, if he decides he likes me well enough."
"Hegrin!" both ladies exclaimed in unison.
"I've heard that most of my life also. My nurse, Beatha, was always going on about it. My mother tried to make her hush, but she'd just talk behind Mother's back."
"Well, then," Aunt Rannore said. "And what do you think of such a thing?"
"I think it's silly." Hegrin offered the pitcher of juice to both her aunts and then poured more for herself. "All the King wants is a companion close to him in years. No need to make such a fuss about it."
The two ladies exchanged glances.
"Well, it remains to be seen what, if anything, will come of it," Aunt Anamara said firmly. "Probably nothing at all, as you said. But still, it pays to stay on the good side of the Dowager, if ever you can find it."
Rohan stared at the assembly before him, trying not to show his dismay. The
Dowager Queen Ysa had, in a very short time, put together an astonishing assortment of boxes and bundles and her three ladies likewise each had a similar accumulation. They wore traveling garments made of impractical dark silk velvet, with equally impractical embroidered cloaks over them.
"—and, of course, my personal chef and his staff," Ysa was saying. "Please notify them to make the proper arrangements."
"I am sorry, Madame," Rohan protested, appalled, "but this will not do. There is no way we can transport so many people and goods. We are limited to the two dog-sleds I was able to engage, and accommodations at the Snow Fortress are much less than Your Highness is accustomed to."
"You cannot expect me to go into this primitive place alone, with nothing of what I am accustomed to, for my good comfort," the Dowager retorted haughtily.
"The soldiers in the field find warmth and comfort in many layers of fine wool,"
Rohan pointed out. "The women, too. Also, our food may be plain, but nourishing."
"Perhaps Ashen stoops to such indignities as eating common soldiers' provisions and wearing their clothing, but for me, it is quite impossible. I do have my station to maintain." Ysa sniffed audibly.
Rohan knew he must devise an acceptable compromise, or the Dowager might refuse to go altogether. She had come close enough to it when he had told her of
Zazar's instructions and then had changed her mind on what seemed to him to be a caprice. A pampered woman, Granddam Zaz had called her, and a better description
Rohan could not devise. He felt like picking her up bodily, velvet and all, lashing her to one of the sleds, and setting forth at once, leaving boxes, bundles, ladies, and chefs in the swirl of snow left by his passage. But that would have been, at best, unadvisable. He had to find a compromise that the
Dowager would accept.
He softened his voice and manner. "Your Highness, I beseech—yea, I implore you to show our dear nation your great mettle, how well and nobly you can endure the conditions under which your brave soldiers fight for us all. Think on it,
Madame. By so doing, you will likewise inspire them to even greater efforts, and thanks to you the enemy will know utte
r and lasting defeat. Only you, as their warrior-queen, can accomplish this."
To Rohan's relief, Ysa actually pondered his words. "What you say may well be true, young Rohan, but still you cannot expect me to forego so many comforts that I should perish," the Dowager said at last. She seemed to Rohan to be somewhat mollified, but not yet ready to capitulate.
"Please trust my experience, Madame. Take only one lady, no chefs, no staff, and leave three-fourths of your goods be- hind. Believe me, you will not need silks and velvets at the Snow Fortress. They will only be a hindrance and a burden, and the shapeless woolen garments you despise are the best things to keep you from freezing. Here in the city I will find you warm, fur-lined boots and a good cloak likewise lined with fur. Know that our soldiers will be heartened more by your presence in good, practical garments such as these than in all the elaborate Court garments your seamstresses can devise."