Forging the Runes

by Josepha Sherman

  "Matters closer to home."

  "Exactly."

  Osmod took a deep breath, organizing his words with care. "My liege, we both know that the sea thieves have never raided in any number larger than two ship-worths of men. Yes, it's true that they are said to raid efficiently—but to be quite blunt, how much efficiency can it take to sack an undefended, isolated monastery?" He saw Egbert brusquely cross himself at that, and hastily followed suit, continuing, "The Northmen are barbarians, and I say that not as an easy insult but as fact. Barbarians fight among themselves, loyal to one petty chieftain, one clan. There's never been the slightest sign that such as they can ever cooperate long enough to form an army, let alone an invasion force."

  "Nicely spoken. Logical, in fact."

  But doubt lingered in Egbert's eyes. He didn't really want to believe in a Northern threat, Osmod knew; he didn't want anything to distract him from his plans for expansion.

  Our plans, Osmod corrected silently, and said, as casually as he could, "You need not be concerned, King Egbert. There are ways, I need not tell you, of quietly being rid of the prince without any shadow being cast on—"

  "No," Egbert snapped. "I am not finished with this matter."

  Damnation! Osmod felt his hand clench as though he still held the runesticks Raido and Oss, and began a hurried, "But is it wise—"

  "I will speak with him again, Osmod, even as I told him. Later."

  In his voice was the tension of a man who could not be pushed any further. Half the point of diplomacy, Osmod thought, was knowing when to yield. The essence of resignation, the ealdorman bowed, putting into it all a courtiers practiced grace. "As you will it, my liege."

  He straightened to see the king already halfway to the royal stables, but made no move to follow.

  Ah well. This wasn't exactly a loss. "Later," after all, gave one a good many opportunities to deal with "now."

  "That," Cadwal murmured as he fell in beside the prince as they left the royal hall, "was beautiful. You actually had me believing it."

  Ardagh glared at him. "Did you think I was lying?"

  "Och, no, of course not, I know better than that. What I meant was just that . . ." Cadwal shook his head. "Well now, I'll believe every tale I hear about Sidhe word-magics after this."

  "Bah. That was a farce, nothing more. I should have been able to woo and win the king to us with just a few words. Instead . . . you saw what happened."

  "The sorcerer, you mean?"

  "Exactly. My words had no hold over him at all." Ardagh strode on, fuming. "That, I should have expected. But the king's reaction—" He stopped so sharply that Cadwal had to swerve like a cat to keep from colliding with him, and turned to glare at the human. "It would have been natural enough for Egbert to feel some uneasiness about an alliance being so suddenly proposed. But you saw what happened, Cadwal: instead of debating the matter, he fled from the very thought of such a concept."

  "Hey now, don't glower at me like that! It's not my fault."

  "No. Of course not." The prince turned away impatiently, striding forward again, Cadwal in his wake.

  "That's what you meant last night," the mercenary said, "what happened just now, about the influence the sorcerer has on his mind."

  "Yes. Osmod doesn't have enough control to rule Egbert's thoughts, but he can heighten the king's emotions just enough to interfere and sharpen his opinions just enough to make our stay here more difficult."

  He heard Cadwal mutter something brusque in his native tongue. "Now isn't that wonderful?" the mercenary asked. "Every time you propose something Osmod and he both don't quite like, the king's going to up and run."

  Ardagh chuckled in spite of himself at the image of tall, handsome Egbert, bright red tunic, gold ornaments and all, scurrying off like a frightened hare. "I assure you, things aren't quite as bad as that. And if it ever does come to a battle of magical wills between Osmod and myself, let me assure you that mine is . . . ah . . . not exactly weak."

  He caught a sly glint of humor in Cadwal's eyes. "More tactful, that, than saying outright 'stronger than any mere human's.' "

  "Ah." The prince stopped again, this time not quite as sharply. "The whole of it right now is that I actually wasn't trying to snare Egbert. Not yet."

  "Could have fooled me."

  "Ae, Cadwal, you've never experienced the full force of Sidhe persuasion! But, no, before I do anything as drastic as binding Eriu and King Aedh to anything, there's some missing information to be gathered."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as Egbert's true feelings about conquest versus alliance. You don't see what I mean? Yes, of course he's ambitious—but there's more to a man than one emotion! I couldn't accurately read him, not in the tangle of emotions from everyone else in the hall."

  "In other words, if you want to figure out what makes Egbert work, you're going to have to get the king alone. How do you figure to do that?"

  Ardagh shrugged. "Right now, I have no idea. But there's something else we need to learn: namely, how far the Witan would be willing to support royal ambitions."

  "Mm. Military support, you mean."

  "Clever man."

  "Hell, military's my profession. And you think Egbert's too new on the throne for them to fully trust him."

  "Indeed. And before you ask, no, Osmod almost certainly doesn't have the Power to control them as well." Ardagh paused. "You were the best choice to deal with the common folk. This time," he added with a sharp little grin, "the mission is mine."

  The mercenary made a nice little parody of a courtly bow. "With my blessings, Prince Ardagh." He straightened suddenly. "What about Osmod?"

  "What about him? He won't attack us. He can't."

  "Not by day, maybe. But what about during the night? Magic's stronger then, isn't it?"

  Ardagh paused, considering how best to word what he wanted to say in human terms. "In a way," he said finally. "In this human Realm, at any rate. There are fewer minds awake to serve as distractions." In the Sidhe Realm, where everyone could see as clearly by night as by day, folk woke or slept whenever the fancy took them.

  "Distractions," Cadwal said. "Tell you what: I'll stay awake—"

  "You won't. Humans, I've learned, need their sleep more than do my kind, and neither of us can afford having you weakened from lack of rest. I'll set Wards tonight, just to be on the wary side." Ardagh paused, studying the human, then added quietly, "You need not look so alarmed. I mean to ensure a dreamless sleep for you."

  Cadwal's face was far too well schooled to betray emotion. But relief was very plain in his eyes. "For that, Prince Ardagh," he began formally, "and for the help you gave me last night—"

  "Hush. I did what I could. Frustratingly, it wasn't very much."

  "It helped. It did help. And now—"

  "And now," Ardagh said, "enough talk. When we are finished with this whole ridiculous mission, we shall see about learning the truth behind your dream. And no," he added sharply, "before you say something foolish, I am not showing your human 'pity' or sentimentality; I don't truly understand those emotions. I simply do not like leaving a magical puzzle unsolved—and I do not wish to see someone who has aided me be harmed."

  "Ah. Right. Well, whatever, I do thank you."

  "Good. Now, go and do . . . whatever. I have work to do."

  Walking the Night

  Chapter 16

  Ardagh straightened sharply, there in his night-darkened bedchamber. Now, what . . . ? Had that been a sound? He glanced about the room yet again, then shook his head at his folly.

  This was getting ridiculous. Osmod could not possibly be spying on him, any more than he in turn had been able to read Osmod's magics the night before. And of course no one was physically up here besides himself but Cadwal, and Cadwal was snoring peacefully, his bizarre dream blocked by the Sidhe spell for sweet slumber; the charms slight Power had been strengthened, or so the prince hoped, by its having been spoken this time by a Sidhe.

  But . . . there
was something. It wasn't his fancy. Not in the room, not even too close to the hall, but . . . something.

  "Ardagh?" That was the faint, distant sound of Sorcha's voice. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  Ae, he'd almost forgotten about the amulet! The prince looked quickly down at it. "I'm not sure, love. I think that someone's watching. I also think that I'd best go out there and do a bit of investigating."

  "Be careful!"

  "Sorcha-my-heart, it's night. There's nothing out there but humans. I can see; they can't."

  "And you, my love," she said, "are being most infuriatingly overconfident. Humor me. Be careful."

  He chuckled. "Don't worry."

  "Hah."

  "I'll be as careful as possible. And I'll do my best to return shortly."

  "Again, hah."

  "Till later, love."

  Ardagh carefully put the amulet away. As he'd expected, Cadwal, who'd already proven himself a light sleeper, stirred as the prince passed him. "Wrong?" the human muttered groggily, but there was nothing groggy about the way his hand snapped shut about the hilt of his sword.

  "Nothing's wrong," Ardagh said hastily. "Go back to sleep, Cadwal."

  He put just the barest touch of will behind the words. With a grunt, the mercenary turned over on his pallet and, after a moment, resumed snoring. Ardagh nodded and moved silently out into the night.

  Ah, yes: Osmod. Of course, Osmod. There he was, standing in deep shadow, invisible to human eyes but quite clearly revealed to Sidhe sight. More than simple sight: Ardagh's Sidhe senses also showed him the faintest glimmer of Power surrounding the human.

  Well now, look at this. He's used magic to give himself night-vision. Clever of him.

  Stealing up on a man who could see him and, for that matter, probably sense his approach through Power was no easy thing. Ardagh held back a grin—teeth tended to glint revealingly in the darkness—and slid forward, careful as predator or prey, delighted at a challenge such as he hadn't faced since the Sidhe Realm.

  But, rather to his disappointment, it didn't turn out to be a true challenge. A Sidhe would always be more at home in the night than any human could ever be, and Osmod's Power was a very finite thing. "Good evening, my lord ealdorman," Ardagh purred from just behind him, and had the satisfaction of seeing the human start badly and just barely bite back a yelp.

  Osmod, though, recovered disconcertingly quickly. "Prince Ardagh. You couldn't sleep, either, I see."

  "Oh, the night's so fine and fair it seems a shame to waste it in sleep." True enough. And I'd rather be spending it talking with my dear Sorcha. But sometimes one takes what one is given.

  "King Egbert and I missed seeing you at dinner."

  "My people," Ardagh said blandly, "have many rituals." He had long since learned that humans tended to accept the most amazing nonsense if it was said with enough authority, filling in the gaps in logic themselves.

  "Rituals that interfere with such mundane matters as dining," Osmod said with mock sympathy. "Such a nuisance."

  "One is as one is." There's another nice, vague statement! "And the king was gracious enough to have food sent to me." Which, of course, I tested for suspicious additions. "Come, my lord. Will you not walk with me?" I'd rather cut you down for the child-killer you are, but again, sometimes one takes what one is given.

  Osmod's sideways glance told Ardagh he would rather see the prince in the humans' Hell, but the ealdorman smiled—that betraying white glint of teeth in the darkness—and said, "if it pleases you."

  It doesn't. Being near you doesn't please me. "After you, my lord. You know these ways better than I."

  They strolled together for a time within the royal enclosure, startling the occasional guard. Osmod pointed out this landmark and that; Ardagh said little but thought a great deal. None of it friendly.

  Civilized, he reminded himself. We must be civilized. "My lord Osmod," the prince said suddenly. "Shall we be blunt with each other?"

  "Shall we? About what?"

  "You seem to have taken a strong dislike to me. Might I ask why?"

  Osmod stopped, eyes widening in very nicely feigned astonishment. "Prince Ardagh, you misunderstand me! It's not my place to like or dislike. And surely you've given neither my king nor me any reason for hostility."

  Oh, smoothly turned! "My lord Osmod, we both know each of us bears a secret we would not wish others to learn. Ah, and don't give me that pretty start of surprise; you know perfectly well what I mean."

  "Do I?" The human's eyes glinted coldly.

  "And let me state this here and now," Ardagh continued quietly. "Were we other than we are, yes, you would indeed be my enemy. Possibly even to the death. I do not like those who harm children."

  "Prince Ardagh! How could you—"

  "However," the prince continued over Osmod's indignant protestation. "However, I am not here as some wild-eyed avenger, but, even as I've said, as an emissary from the High King of Eriu. How I feel about you, my lord, or how you feel about me really has no part in that."

  "You offer me wild insults, you make bizarre accusations—Come now, Prince Ardagh! Do you really think I would ever do anything that might endanger the realm?"

  In a moment, if you thought it would be to your advantage. "King Egbert trusts you," Ardagh said. "I would not question his judgment. I ask only this, my lord: Let me finish my mission in peace and depart the same way."

  "What," Osmod asked flatly, "makes you believe I would do anything else?"

  Ardagh sighed. "What," he retorted, "makes you think I don't know you've already tried that 'anything else'? My lord, by now you must surely have realized that ours are two very different styles of Power. We cannot, like it or not, successfully attack each other. Leave it at that."

  Osmod's smile was as thin and cold as the edge of a blade. "I had no intention of doing aught else."

  And that, Ardagh thought, is as blatant a lie as ever I've heard from a human. But there wasn't much else he could do but say curtly, "Wise of you. The night has become quite cool. Go home, my lord Osmod, before you take a chill."

  Ardagh sat once more in his bedchamber, listening to Cadwal snore. The mercenary had awakened again when the prince had returned, then slid right back into sleep.

  Lucky you.

  That little encounter with Osmod had not gone as smoothly as he would have liked. But then, it hadn't turned into a battle, either. There was that. It had been a near thing, though, Ardagh thought, what with having the child-killer so close yet being forced to be civil to him.

  Darkness slay him since I cannot.

  Worse than forced civility to know that, for the sake of politics, he could tell no one of Osmod's true nature, worse still to know that he must let the man live.

  A shudder of sheer disgust shook the prince. Powers, to be free of this place!

  Ae, but Sorcha! The hour was late, but . . . "Sorcha?" Ardagh asked softly, testing.

  "Ardagh!" She answered so quickly that he knew she, too, had been sleepless. "That was no 'I'll return in a short while!' What happened?"

  "Nothing much, love. An encounter with one of the ealdormen. Not a particularly friendly fellow," he added in wry understatement, "but I think we've come to a tentative understanding."

  "Am I right in taking that to mean he won't interfere? When you speak with the king?"

  "I hope he won't. If he does—" Ardagh brought himself up short, realizing that there really wasn't much he could do in retaliation. "Ae, never mind. I'm just letting this foreign place get the better of me. Being overly cautious."

  "Is there such a thing as overly cautious in diplomacy?"

  He chuckled. "Good point. And 'cautious' is certainly how I've been spending my time these days."

  "So you keep telling me." Sudden impatience tinged Sorcha's voice. "What you haven't told me yet, my secretive love, is anything solid. Ardagh, I don't know why you're doing this, but—stop trying to shelter me."

  "I . . ."

  "Hah, that stopped y
ou! You can't push me aside with a lie like a human; you have been hiding something. Yes, you've given me very nice images of what everyone and everything looks like, but there must be something more than surface details! Come, love, you've told me that you spent most of the day learning—but learning what?"

  "Less than I'd like."

  "Ardagh!"

  "Yes, yes, I was only teasing. Did it ever strike you how very ludicrous this all is?"

  "A Sidhe prince serving as ambassador for a human king, and all because of a pack of sea thieves? Now what could possibly be ludicrous about that?"

  "Why, Sorcha, such charming skepticism! All right then: I spent a fair amount of time today learning how the Witan feels about their new king. Truly feels, that is, under the smooth, politic surface. And what I've learned is predictable enough. Egbert, even though he's been on the throne so short a time, is the court's delight."

  Sorcha snorted. "Hardly startling. After sixteen years of a passive, unglamorous king, well now, people being what they are, it's no wonder that they see Egbert as a bright new beginning—particularly if he's as young and handsome and vital as you say."

  Ardagh smiled. "Ah, my clever lady."

  "And don't patronize me, either! As the daughter of Aedh's Chief Minister, I'd be singularly unobservant if I didn't know something about how the court mind thinks."

  "Ae, true." Ardagh let out his breath in a silent sigh. "Forgive me. After a full day of this, it's not easy to stop playing the political game."

  "Of saying nothing and hiding everything. Believe me, I know that one. I've seen Aedh and my father play it with the court often enough. But please, what else about Egbert? It's not just me: The king will want to know."