Knight Or Knave

by Andre Norton

  The message had been unmistakable. Read she might, as much as she liked, and study, too—even spells and the making of magic. But putting the knowledge into use was forbidden. This was, in a way, a relief to Ashen, for she had only reluctantly employed a little of what Zazar had taught her or given her while she was growing up.

  Very well. There were many other books to be read. One that she had only opened and lightly turned through promised to give the history of the great families of

  Rendel, and also the story of the Great Rings, which were said to be articles of legend.

  Were they the same ones as the Dowager wore on her white, elegant hands? If so, then much study was indeed called for, and, apparently, as long as she did not try to work any spells she could learn to her heart's content without being interrupted.

  Even so, Weyse's abrupt appearance and then mysterious method of departure had unsettled the girl. She emptied the little flask into the lantern, her hands shaking so that she had to be careful lest she spill the oil, and quickly made her way back to the entrance to the cavern. There was one last fitting for the dress she would be wearing for King Florian's wedding, and the wedding itself was a mere two days hence. Little as she cared for it, the humdrum routine of life outside the secret places of the Fane of the Glowing might calm her nerves.

  Also, it might put her in a better, more receptive frame of mind to learn the next time she ventured down into the cavern and the hidden library.

  The day of Florian's wedding to Rannore dawned cold and clear. Obern was grateful for what warmth the velvet and samite provided, though he found the dandified cut and ornamentation of the garments more than a little distasteful.

  Also, the little gilded boat he was expected to carry was merely silly.

  All the participants in the procession had been given brooches of gold, the design being the Rowan yellow rose entwined with a branch of yew. When he saw

  Lord Royance pinning his on his hat, Obern did likewise. The women placed theirs according to their fancy, on shoulder or bosom or on headdress. Pages waited with baskets of similar ornaments, made of flimsy base metal and painted gold, ready to throw to the crowds as souvenirs.

  The procession gathered in a room just inside the castle doors. From there, they would walk through the outer ward, out into the city along a specified route, and back again to the Great Fane of the Shining. Only a small portion of the city's inhabitants could hope to fit into this building. The rest would have to wait outside in the cold, relying on word being sent out to them by the luckier ones inside as to what was happening within.

  Obern craned his neck, seeking a glimpse of Ashen. Finally he spotted her, standing a little apart from the other ladies. Her hair was covered with a veil; today, only the bride's head would be bare. She saw him and started to smile and wave. Then she ducked her head and busied herself with the small pillow she would be carrying, on which the marriage rings had been tied with white ribbons.

  The bride herself, looking wan and pale and more than a little ill, was supported by her grandfather, Wittern, and by Lord Roy-ance. Obern thought the two men seemed to be old friends, by the easy way they had with one another.

  Royance lifted one hand, a page appeared as if by magic, disappeared just as quickly, and presently returned bearing a tray with a flask and a goblet on it.

  From the color of the liquid as the servant poured it, Obern thought it must be neat wine. Rannore accepted a swallow, and then another. A little color returned to her cheeks.

  Interested, Obern watched the Dowager pull the bridegroom to one side and deliver a short but impassioned lecture in so low a voice that no one save the

  King could hear it. Florian frowned, looking at his bride-to-be, and then at

  Ashen, who did not seem to realize that she was the object of a look of pure hatred. That was interesting, and alarming as well. Obern had no idea what was going on between the King and his mother, and even less about how Ashen was involved. Perhaps this was part of the reason for Ashen's being ordered to leave

  Harous's town house and move into the castle. Then, to his further bewilderment, he found himself the object of a moment of hard and merciless scrutiny from both mother and son.

  Obern wanted to know more, but didn't know whom to ask. His speculations were cut off abruptly by the ringing of a bell in the hands of the Ceremonial

  Steward, who had begun to line up the procession.

  "Here, here, and you there," the Steward said. He looked har-tied and did not shrink from putting hands on those of the high ones who were tardy and directing them to their places. "We start through the door at the stroke of noon."

  Fortunately, Obern was stationed well back in the ranks, and in any case his order of precedence was not at all important—at least not to him—and so he continued to dawdle at the sidelines. To his surprise, the Ceremonial Steward beckoned him aside.

  "You are Obern of the Sea-Rovers, are you not? Yes, I see by the token you carry. Well, sir, I have news for you. Your father and a company of some dozen men are in the city, and have asked about you. And today, of all days! Well, never mind. Somehow I found room for them, in one of the lesser buildings inside the walls, and you will see them later."

  Obem blinked back his surprise. "Thank you, good Steward. This is welcome news, indeed."

  The procession had already started and was winding its way out of the great entrance to the castle. Obern checked to make sure his cap was on straight, that his cloak hung properly, and that his hose were unwrinkled. Later, he would find out why Snolli had picked this day, of all days, to come visiting at Rendelsham.

  Four

  At last the wedding was over, the bride did not faint, the bridegroom did not ruin the ceremony with some untoward coarse comment, and a great feast had begun in the castle's main Hall. There were too many people to seat, even in that big enclosure, so food was set out on long tables, with platters so that people could help themselves as they chose from the variety laid out for them. Whole roast pig, haunches of beef, birds without number prepared in various ways, and a table of sweetmeats, for the King was known to have a fondness for them—this day nobody went hungry. Nor did any go thirsty, for kegs of wine and ale had already been broached. The sounds of celebration filled the air. Musicians played from a gallery over the Hall, and already some of the revelers had begun to dance.

  Obern followed the crowd into the Hall, not intending to stay, for he was now free to go in search of his father. To his surprise and amusement he didn't have to go far, because Snolli and his men had happily invaded the party and were making great dents in the food that had been provided for the wedding guests.

  "Obern!" Snolli bellowed when he caught sight of his son. "It's good to see you, boy! For a while we thought you were dead! Come and have some of this roast pig.

  It's excellent."

  Obern grinned. It was plain to see that Snolli had also been making free with the ale-keg. Those with him—Kasai, Dordan, Iaobim, others he did not see clearly in the press—gathered around, pounding him on shoulders and back, shoving platters of food at him, asking him how he had fared. Somehow he managed to answer through the tumult.

  "Well enough. I broke my arm in the fall from the cliff. It's a wonder I didn't break more, but I think I landed on my head. My sword is gone, but it's safely hidden and I know where to find it. And how goes it at New Void?"

  "Well enough, well enough," Snolli said. "We're here to make a treaty with Her

  Majesty. She told us to wait until after the wedding, but we chose not to."

  "What, and miss a good meal?" one of the Sea-Rovers shouted, amid laughter from his companions. "And especially in the company of one who is now known to be the luckiest man alive?"

  Obern could not help but notice that the Rendelians were giving the newcomers a wide berth, and he smiled. They did stand out, in their rough garments over chain mail. They had little pretense of elegance among the overly civilized, who did not hesitate to look down their
noses at the men from the south or even, when they thought they were being unobserved, to hold perfumed handkerchiefs over their noses. How he had missed the company of his father and friends! He felt a big part of the veneer of fancy manners he had had to put on sliding away and let it go without regret.

  "You all look like you could use a meal or two," he said. "Have you discovered that farming is hard work?"

  His father sobered. Then he drew Obern aside, to a velvet upholstered seat in a window niche where they could have just a little privacy.

  "I wanted to tell you this before we all met with the royal lady," Snolli said, and Obern immediately gave his Chieftain his full at-tention. "Things are not going well at New Void. The weather is against us. I've never seen such a cold summer. The local grain is dying, and even the winter-hardy seed we brought with us is struggling. It will grow only if coddled under shelter and given extra warmth. Some of our people also have died."

  "Anybody I know?"

  "The men may call you lucky, but this luck doesn't reach past your arms' length.

  Neave is dead. She was sick when you last saw her, and when we thought that you had died, she lost all her will to live. I don't think she lasted a week."

  Obern pondered this news in silence. Sorry as he was to hear that Neave had gone on that voyage from which nobody returns, behind his dutiful regret a certain exaltation threatened to burst through. Now there were no obstacles between him and Ashen] To cover this unseemly response, he said, "And my son? How fares the boy?"

  Snolli looked a little blank. "Boy? Oh, yes. There was a child. What was his name?"

  "Rohan." Sea-Rover warriors were not Great lovers of children, not until they were old enough to join the ranks of fighters. Obem was more tolerant of them than most.

  "Oh, yes, I remember. The boy is doing fine. Left him in fosterage, of course.

  With Dagdya. She raises healthy young ones. Come to think of it, she fostered you, didn't she?"

  Obern nodded without comment. This was obviously the first time Snolli had even thought about Rohan since the night he was born, some six or seven years ago.

  Still, if the boy had died, Snolli would have heard about it for he was of

  Snolli's own blood. Obem dismissed any concern for Rohan, knowing he was safe enough. Time enough to make provisions for him, later.

  "Thank you for teiling me about Neave, Father," Obern said. "Did she die well?"

  "I didn't hear anything to the contrary."

  "Then there's an end to it." He looked up. One of the chief stewards was coming toward them. "I think Her Majesty is going to summon us to a meeting very shortly. Will you require my presence?"

  "No, no, it's just dry and boring negotiations between our people and theirs. We hope to get access to the food stores, because I fear we'll need the help. You were just the excuse to bring us here."

  "Then I'll take my leave of you. There is something that I want to do."

  "Go, go, everything will be well for a lucky man such as you," Snolli said heartily. Both men arose from the window seat. "And change your clothes," he added with a laugh. "You look ridiculous."

  Obem laughed also, glancing down at the white samite and velvet he had had to don for the festivities. "No need to tell me twice, Fatheri 1 will look for you later."

  And with that, he moved off through the crowd, seeking Ashen. He knew of her fondness for both music and dancing, and though he had no great skill in it, he hoped she would favor him nonetheless.

  Ashen had not gone into the Great Hall, for her natural preference for avoiding crowds had been tested to its limit by the wedding procession and the wedding itself. She knew that she, if not the center of all eyes, was still on display much more than was comfortable for her. And so she quietly made her way to the building where her apartment was located, intending to ask Ayfare to bring her a platter of food later.

  She didn't even reach the outer door. Five men, wearing King Florian's livery, blocked her way. "Stand aside, please," she said, summoning all the command she could put into her voice. "Let me pass."

  "We've got orders," one of them, the leader by his manner, told her. "King wants to see you."

  "For what?" Ashen said.

  "King'U tell you in his own good time. Now come along."

  "No—"

  But before she could protest further, a heavy cloth was thrown over her, cutting off her muffled scream. She recognized a flash of brocade, something fit for covering a window, before darkness cut off her vision. Pressure through the brocade at arm and knee level told her that she was being trussed securely. ■

  She feared the worst. But none of the men seemed inclined to take liberties with her. Perhaps they were under order—but order from whom? Florian? If so, why? But there was nobody to answer her. She felt herself being picked up and carried away, in what direction she did not know though she felt the bite of cold, even through the heavy cloth. Presently she was thrown, none too gently, into what had to be a wagon, judging by the creak of its wheels, and she began a jouncing journey to a destination equally unknown.

  Obem, she thought despairingly. My friend. If only he knew what was happening.

  He could help me…

  In the Council chamber, the Dowager Ysa and Lord Royance met with the Chieftain of the Sea-Rovers, who was accompanied by one of his number, a small man who, inexplicably, carried a drum with him. From the moment she laid eyes on Snolli she knew why her son's feeble efforts at negotiating a pact had come to naught.

  This was a wily old sea-eagle. He had undoubtedly been greatly amused at

  Florian's bungling.

  "Let us be frank with one another," the Dowager said. She sat at the head of the table, her hands folded in such a way that the Four Great Rings were plainly visible, and Royance occupied the chair opposite. "You could be thought of as invaders of our land, but we choose to welcome you as valued allies instead."

  "That's a sound decision," Snolli said. "So far, all we have invaded is an empty keep and some of the land around it."

  Ysa had to acknowledge the truth in that. She noted also the lack of title, and put it down to simply his not knowing how to address her. "You are called the

  Chieftain, are you not?" she said.

  "People still call me 'Your Majesty' even though properly, since I am no longer the wife of a King but only his widow, I should be known as 'Your Highness.' "

  "Then 'Your Majesty' it is," Snolli said. He grinned. "D'you happen to have something to cut the dust of the road?"

  Now Ysa's lips twitched with amusement in spite of herself. She had seen how thoroughly the Chieftain and his companions had sluiced down enough to cut weeks of road-dust just an hour before, at the wedding party. Nevertheless, she gave a signal and presently a page brought a pitcher and goblets.

  "That'll do for me," Snolli said, taking the pitcher. "Now, bring some for Her

  Majesty and our friends."

  At this Ysa laughed outright and even Royance made a muffled sound of amusement.

  "How refreshing! You remind me of how artificial life has become here in

  Rendelsham Castle!" she exclaimed.

  Royance spoke up, though he had been asked to the meeting only as a witness.

  "Yes, I agree. I think we can bring much to each other, your people and ours."

  He nodded at the Dowager. "Pray continue, and forgive my interruption."

  The small man spoke up. "All that's as may be." He began to stroke the surface of the drum as if unaware of what he was doing. "We need to see what terms you're proposing. And how they fit with the terms we're proposing. My lord. Your

  Majesty," he added, almost as an afterthought. He accepted the fresh tray the page brought, and poured for both Ysa and Royance before serving himself.

  Snolli turned to his companion. "This is Kasai, my Spirit Drummer. He is one of my most trusted advisers for he can see past the veil that separates this world from others."

  Doubtful of any such thing, Ysa thought
of the little furred flyer, Visp, tucked in its cage in the room high atop the tallest tower in Rendelsham. This creature, summoned through Ysa's successful invoking of a certain spell, served much the same purpose for the Dowager. She nodded, pretending to understand. "It is good to have help of this kind," she said. "For we never know when we will need it most."

  "Just so, Your Majesty. Now, let's get down to business. Perhaps it will be better if I tell you what the Sea-Rovers want, and then you tell us what you're willing to give. Then we can start bargaining." Snolli grinned, his strong teeth showing white against his beard. "How say you, lady?"

  Vastly amused and diverted as she had not been since the day she had forced a marriage proposal out of Florian for his new bride, Rannore, Ysa inclined her head graciously. "Please," she said. "Begin."