Knight Or Knave

by Andre Norton

  "Well, they nearly killed you anyway." Zazar sat down on a stool beside the bed—Zazar's own, Ashen realized. "The baby had died inside you, but your body couldn't expel it naturally. Instead, you were being poisoned by it. One more day, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything. As it is, you have a long recovery ahead of you and you must do it elsewhere. It isn't safe for you to stay here, even in my house."

  Ashen closed her eyes. Ayfare nudged her with the cup, and she drank a little more broth. "Why?" she said, dreading the answer.

  "Joal is not headman any longer. Tusser challenged him and beat him. Then Joal disappeared. I don't think he went to the pool voluntarily."

  " 'The pool'?" Ayfare obviously had no idea what Zazar was talking about.

  "Where the Bog-people put their dead. For the underwater eaters. The Deep

  Dwellers."

  Ashen felt Ayfare shudder. "It is the custom," she told the maid. "Tusser is

  Joal's son. I know him, grew up with him, and he hates me for various reasons.

  Anyway, the dead feel nothing."

  "But Joal wasn't dead, not yet," Zazar said. "We had differences, but that fate was a bad one and I would not have wished it on him."

  "Then you are right," Ashen said, "and my presence here can only bring you danger. I must go back to New Void."

  "And how?" the old woman demanded. "You're too weak to get out of bed, let alone go where you'll surely die without competent people to help you."

  "I'll manage. I must."

  Zazar snorted through her nose. "You'll manage nothing, not without my help.

  Just lie easy. I have an idea."

  But Ashen could get nothing further from the Wysen-wyf. All she knew was that, after a brief, whispered conversation with Ay-fare, both left the hut after providing her with food and a bottle of water. A few hours later, Zazar returned alone.

  "How're you feeling now?" she asked.

  "Much stronger," Ashen said. "I got out of bed and walked a few steps, though it tired me."

  "You shouldn't have done that, but no harm done, I suppose."

  "I wanted to see if I could run if I had to."

  Unexpectedly, Zazar smiled. "You'll do," she said. "But you needn't have bothered. All the able-bodied men are out hunting for meat to salt for the winter. Now, we wait until your man and a troop of armed soldiers show up, to take you to Rendelsham. The Nordor, isn't he?"

  Ashen started. "I suppose you could call him that, though he is not really a

  Nordor. He's the son of the Chieftain of the Sea-Rovers. His name is Obern."

  It was Zazar's turn to be startled. "But he was not—Never mind. What's done is done, and the Weavers must have a reason for it though we do not know it yet. I gave your maidservant a hearth-guide here, after I left her beside the ford.

  They'll be here in another day, if your Obern has the least regard for you."

  Ashen closed her eyes. "He will," she said. At least that much she could count on. He might blame her for disobeying him and entering the swamp—he might even blame her for losing the child—but he would come for her.

  She had been wrong. The first thing Obern did, once he was inside the hut and his men stationed outside, was to blame Zazar. "If it hadn't been for your meddling—" he said, his voice dangerous.

  Zazar had never been one to overlook foolishness. "If it hadn't been for my

  'meddling' as you put it, your wife would not be alive today," she snapped.

  Quickly, sparing no grim detail, she outlined the situation for him. "She was more dead than alive when she got here, and that was thanks to your keeping her from me."

  Obern tempered his anger, if only a little. "And yet, women have children all the time. What did you do, Ashen, that the baby died?"

  "I did nothing," Ashen said. "Nothing. I wanted the baby—our baby." Everything, she thought, depended on his next words.

  "And yet it died. And you ran away, into the Bog. Perhaps that is why it died."

  Ashen looked away. This rift between them, she thought, would be hard to bridge.

  Perhaps it never would be. And yet this was her husband, to whom she was bound for life. Worse, it was possible he was unaware even that a rift existed.

  She had to make things plain, once and for all, or be lost entirely. "If you believe that I was acting in any way but in an attempt to save the baby, then perhaps we should agree to live apart," she said.

  Obern had the good grace to look abashed. "Of course I could never believe anything but good about you," he said.

  "Then believe this," she said. Her voice was harsh in her own ears. "Perhaps I spoke true and we should separate. But that would shame you in Sea-Rover eyes.

  'A man who cannot keep his wife in her place,' they'd whisper behind your back.

  Always you and no thought for me. No consideration of my welfare. I did not desert you. I was dying, Obern. Zazar said that another day and even she could have done nothing to save me. I only went for help that you couldn't or wouldn't recognize that I needed."

  "I know you had your reasons. And yet it was hard to bear, when I found that you would leave me."

  She looked away. "Yes. I know." Her words were false in her own ears. It was as if she talked to a log. He still had not grasped her meaning, and perhaps never would. If he had, he would have brought her to the Bog himself, rather than come for her later, and when sent for.

  "I am a Sea-Rover, and we treat our women differently from the way the land men do."

  "Make your apologies later," Zazar said. "You are apologizing to your wife, aren't you?"

  Obern nodded, if a little slowly.

  "Good. Now, did you bring a litter, as I told you?"

  "I did. It can be rigged so horses can carry it, once we get across the Barrier

  River." He turned to Ashen. "Lathrom is in charge of the men," he told her. "And we'll be taking Ayfare to tend you as well. I still don't understand why it wouldn't be just as well to return to New Void rather than make the long journey to Rendel-sham—"

  "You don't have to understand," Zazar said bluntly, clearly out of patience.

  "Just do it. Obey me!"

  "Very well, we will go to Rendelsham," Obern said, with a nod in the Wysen-wyf's direction, "and live once more in that madhouse of a capital. But once you are healed, we return to New Void. Agreed?"

  "Yes, agreed," Ashen said. She had no more wish to be near King Florian and the

  Dowager than he, but she recognized Zazar's wisdom in sending her where there were skilled physicians to oversee her recuperation.

  Then Obem picked her up and, despite her protests that she could walk at least as far as the litter, carried her outside. He held her for a moment, gazing at her, and only then could she see the deep concern in his eyes, a concern that had come out as anger. "I really was beside myself with worry about you," he said. "If anything ever happened to you—"

  "I will be safe now that you are here," Ashen said. She put her head against the hollow of his neck. A faint hope flickered that perhaps they could still salvage some of what little they once had between them. Perhaps he would learn other ways of behaving with a woman who was not of the Sea-Rover kin.

  "I'll guide you once more to the Barrier River/' Zazar said. "And then who knows when I'll see you again."

  "Surely not under the same conditions," Obern said. He hugged Ashen tighter before putting her into the litter.

  "You're a good man for all your hot temper," Zazar said. "Too bad that—Well, never mind."

  "How can I get in touch with you, to keep you informed of Ashen's recovery?"

  Unexpectedly, the Wysen-wfy smiled. "I'll find a way to get in touch with you.

  Now, go." Then she put her hand on Obern's sleeve. "Wait. You have a son, don't you? The child of the wife you once had."

  "Yes. His name is Rohan." Obem sounded puzzled, as was Ashen. She had not told

  Zazar about the boy. Or perhaps she had, while she was temporarily out of her head. If so
, perhaps she had told her Protector about Gaurin as well, and how she loved him. That would explain some of Zazar's cryptic remarks.

  "Send for him while you are in Rendelsham," the Wysen-wyf instructed Obern. "He will be a comfort to Ashen, being as how she lost the child that would have been her own."

  "Yes, I will," Obern promised. Then the little group of travelers started across the open land to where they could pick up the road and make traveling easier for

  Ashen.

  Even with the improved conditions and the way Ayfare had tried to pad the horse-litter to make it as comfortable as possible, Ashen was exhausted to the point of wishing she had died, back in the Bog, when Rendelsham towers finally came into view. They passed by Cragden Keep without stopping, going directly to

  Rendelsham Castle. There, under Ayfare's direction, stewards rushed from every direction to help her to the apartment that, true to the Dowager Queen's promise, had been kept ready for her when she chose to visit. Others scurried off to find the physicians, while still others went to notify the King and the

  Dowager of Ashen's arrival.

  She fell into a deep slumber the instant she had been put to bed, and woke late the next morning, feeling considerably refreshed. Master Lorgan, the eldest and most experienced of all the physicians employed at Rendelsham Castle, sat at her side.

  "You have had a narrow escape," he told her, "if half of what your maid claims is true."

  "My guess is that she left half of it out of her story," Ashen said. She yawned.

  "But 1 am here, and I am alive, and my instructions were to stay until I was well again."

  "Ah yes, the Wysen-wyf." Lorgan smiled. "It was no surprise to me that she sent you. We have had dealings with one another, she and I, over the years. She sent me also this." He showed Ashen a scrap of bark paper with some incomprehensible scribbles on it. "This is the recipe for a particular tonic that I am to brew, and your maidservant is to give you daily. It should have you on your feet before long, unless there is somewhat amiss that Zazar did not detect." He smiled a little wider. "But that is unlikely."

  Ayfare appeared at that moment, bearing a tray on which were several covered dishes and a crystal drinking-cup containing something green. Even from a distance Ashen could smell its pungent aroma. "Breakfast, my lady," Ayfare said.

  "Or dinner, whichever you prefer. But you are to eat all of it and drink the tonic down to the last drop. I prepared it myself."

  "I see you are in good hands," Master Lorgan said, as he arose from the chair.

  "I always like it when my patients have someone to look after them who will bully them into doing the correct thing. And so I give you good day until I see you again tomorrow."

  Ashen managed to tell him farewell just before the door closed behind him.

  Somehow Ayfare had her propped up in bed, a napkin tucked under her chin, and the tray set across her lap before she quite knew what was happening.

  "First, the dish of eggs," Ayfare said. "And then some bread, and fruit if you can hold it, and then the tonic." She stepped back and folded her arms, obviously willing to stand over her charge until she had performed satisfactorily.

  Knowing better than to argue, Ashen removed the cover from one of the dishes.

  Inside were three coddled eggs cooked to perfection, on rounds of toasted bread.

  More bread, untoasted, with butter and a slice of cheese, waited on another plate and yet another bowl held fresh fruit peeled and sliced. "How can I ever eat all this?" she said. "It has been so long—"

  "All the more reason to eat now. You are so thin the covers scarcely rumple over you."

  Obediently Ashen started in on the eggs, cutting them and the toast to bits with her spoon. The combination tasted surprisingly delicious and before she knew it, she had eaten almost all of it. There was none of that sugary sauce that, to

  Ashen, spoiled the dish and she smiled her gratitude at Ayfare's remembering her preferences. She put the butter aside, and ate a slice of bread with the cheese, as she nibbled on the fruit. "That was good," she said at last, "but I'm too full to take another bite."

  "Not too full to drink the tonic," Ayfare said.

  "It smells like-—like—"

  "Like something from the Bog? I'll grant you that, but it tastes fairer than it smells. 1 sampled it."

  Ashen saw no way out, so she took a sip. Ayfare had been correct. Once past the strong, swampy odor—no doubt some of the herbs and medicinal Bog-plants Zazar knew, the way Master Lorgan knew his elixirs—the concoction was not entirely unpleasant, though it had a bitter undertaste. Ashen drained the cup and then lay back, tired once more.

  "Where is Obem?" she asked.

  "When he saw that you were in safe hands, he returned to New Void to bring his son back with him, as that strange old woman told him. Is that the one who reared you?"

  "Yes. She is Zazar, the Wysen-wyf, and she's quite famous. It seems that most people in Rendel know of her. I think my mother was trying to reach her before I was born. She died, leaving me orphaned. I am only now becoming aware of how lucky I am that Zazar fostered me."

  Ayfare had other news also—the comings and goings of this noble and that, and, most interesting, the information that Count Gaurin was not at Court.

  "Has he returned to his homeland?" Ashen inquired cautiously.

  "For the time. He's gone to bring more of his people back to

  Rendel. From what I hear, things are going poorly up north."

  Much as she wanted to see him again, this was an exceptionally poor time for them to renew their acquaintanceship and so she was glad, in a way, that he was gone. "Grant him safe journey." Then she yawned again. "Could I be sleepy again so quickly?"

  "Yes. So go back to sleep, and don't worry about anything. I am here to look after you, and soon your husband and your foster son will be here as well."

  With a contented sigh, Ashen obeyed.

  In another part of the castle, King Florian was pacing the floor, scowling, while his current mistress, Lady Jacyne, wife of a minor court official, lolled on a long chair. She was eating spiced, sugared nuts from a silver dish and was nearly naked, a light robe carelessly belted around her waist. If her intention was to appear seductive, Florian was unmoved by it. "I don't see what all the fuss is about," she said. "Your sister is in no condition to harm you, even if she wanted to."

  "That's not the point," Florian said impatiently. "She is here and I am much happier when she is someplace else. Almost anyplace else."

  "Well, you'd better get used to her presence," Jacyne said with a shrug.

  "Because she isn't going anywhere until all the poison is out of her system."

  Florian stopped in his tracks. "What poison?" he said suspiciously. "Is someone trying to say she's been poisoned?" It can't be, he thought. Someone must be spreading a rumor.

  "All perfectly natural, my love," Jacyne said, popping another sugared nut into her mouth. "Sometimes things go wrong. She was pregnant, it died, she couldn't push it out, and you don't want to know the nasty details. But the Bog-witch saved her."

  She licked her fingers and Florian stared at her with some distaste. She had been very amusing at first, but her coarse ways were beginning to annoy him.

  Initially he had thought it an affectation; now he surmised that she really was a common wench who had married far above her station.

  "How very unfortunate," he said without inflection.

  Then he dismissed the matter as unimportant women's business. He had other things on his mind, and to that end, ordered Jacyne to dress and leave him alone. When she had slipped out the private door, he sent for Rawl, the house servant who had "helped" him some years earlier in the matter of that Nordorn ambassador— What was his name? Oh, yes, Bjauden. Rawl had taken care of the problem neatly and efficiently, with never a hint of anything amiss, and since then, several similar pieces of work as well.

  Now that his sister had come back to Rendelsham, after that frustrating busine
ss with the Sea-Rover rescuing her and the equally inefficient way Sergeant Lathrom had misinterpreted the orders given him—Florian made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Any fool should have understood that Ashen was to be done away with at the earliest opportunity. The instructions in the note—and that was something else that chafed him, that the note had not been destroyed—were just a cover, in case something went wrong. Well, he should be grateful that the note existed after all, though he wasn't. Rawl, however, would not fail him. Florian had to strike quickly, and permanently, before another political faction could start forming around her.