Knight Or Knave

by Andre Norton

  "Yes," Zazar agreed. "Not all of the great predators of the Bog are in winter sleep." She got to her feet. "Think you that Gaurin and Ashen will be back at the Oakenkeep by now?"

  "If not, then I will not be ahead of them by more than a day. The tourney is ended, and neither Ashen nor Gaurin will want to stay for the merrymaking at court."

  "She ever did disdain the ways of Rendelsham, though her friend the Young

  Dowager is there."

  "And so, with the dawn, I will be gone."

  "Make yourself comfortable by my fire, and later I will escort you to the river's edge. Not all of the villagers are in winter sleep as well. I think that

  Tusser, our new headman, holds some suspicion regarding the comings and goings of Outlanders to my hut."

  "Thank you, Grandam Zaz. How can I ever repay you for ail the help you have been to me?"

  "You can't," Zazar said shortly. "Now, get to sleep. We must leave before it is full dawn. I will watch the girl for you."

  Anamara seemed to have slept through the night, for her position was little changed from the way Rohan had placed her when she had dropped into drugged slumber. During the dark hours, the Wysen-wyf had tucked a warmer cover over the girl. When Zazar roused her, she sat up and opened her mouth, obviously ready for the grain and fruit to be given her. As Rohan filled the bowl, she responded with chirps and whistles.

  "Will she be all right here, alone, while you accompany me to the river?" he demanded anxiously.

  "As long as she doesn't wander out into the middle of the village," Zazar said.

  "We could tether her, if you like."

  "No," Rohan said. Something in him rebelled at the thought of tying Anamara in her bird-girl state, even for her own safety. "Perhaps if we left another bowl of this grain mixture, she will be busy eating until you get back."

  "Perhaps."

  The Wysen-wyf put food before Rohan and then busied herself putting her house to rights as she ate her own breakfast. She handed a parcel to Rohan—food and water for the journey, somewhat more than he thought they would need—and turned to

  Anamara.

  "Stay here," she said clearly, indicating the spot where Anamara crouched.

  "Here. Do you understand?" She placed a bowl of the fruit-and-grain mixture in front of the girl.

  Anamara bobbed her head and uttered more chirps and whistles. Despite Zazar's claim that she could now understand human speech, Rohan could not tell whether this signaled either comprehension or agreement.

  "Do you think she will do it?"

  "I don't know," the Wysen-wyf said. "I can accomplish only so much with her at present. But give me time—-Ah, well, we cannot stay the day. Already it grows lighter than I find comfortable."

  She got to her feet, pulled on the warm cloak Gaurin had given her, and picked up a staff before plucking aside the hide covering the doorway long enough to have a look outside. "All is clear, at least for the moment. Come along, don't dawdle."

  Rohan obediently followed through the opening, to make immediately for the shelter of a line of nearly leafless bushes that marked the edge of the hut clearing. They had not gone a dozen paces, however, before he was aware that someone—or something— was following them.

  He turned, half expecting to see some hungry Bog-monster tracking them, only to discover Anamara. She had left her cloak behind and, clad only in her dress and cloth slippers, she shivered a little in the morning cold.

  "Go back!" Rohan said, making his whisper as urgent as he could manage. "Back,

  Anamara. Go to the hut. There's a good girl."

  Anamara only gazed at him happily and ran the few steps separating them. She clung to him, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and began to whistle. Hastily he clapped his hand over her mouth. "I thought you said she could understand human speech

  Zazar had turned back and now stood scowling at the tableau. "She can. That doesn't mean she recognizes the reasons behind your commands. Or that she agrees. Can't you manage the little lackwit any better than that?" she said. "Or should I take a hand?"

  Remembering Zazar's quick way with a sound slap across the face, Rohan opened his cloak to shelter Anamara. She crept into the warmth gratefully and put her arms around his waist. "Can we get her back to your hut?" he asked. "This time,

  I'll take your advice and—and tether her securely."

  Zazar moved past him and peered out into the clearing. "Just as I thought. No time," she said. "The village has begun to stir and there are people out on their morning errands. Somebody is sure to spot us and give the alarm. Then both of you would be doomed, and I could do nothing to prevent it. You would be given to feed the Boggins."

  "But the pools where you say the Boggins lie—"

  "Frozen, yes, and the Deep Dwellers in winter sleep." She stepped closer. "They would kill you, Rohan, and the girl with you. Oh, you would fight bravely, but you would perish. Perhaps they would kill me. Both Tusser and Joal, his father, threatened enough times. And they would stack our bodies until the thaw comes.

  That is what they would do to us."

  Rohan swallowed, hard. "Then we shall have to take her with us," he said.

  "I know. And 1 am not happy about that, though I should have expected it. Well, we can't just stay here talking until the villagers hear and come looking.

  Follow me."

  Using her staff to clear the way and test for unsteady footing on an icy path that was almost invisible to Rohan, Zazar led them out a different way. He was kept busy making certain that Anamara stayed on the path. At unexpected moments she would break free from the sheltering warmth of his cloak and dash away after anything that caught her fancy—a trembling leaf, a glitter of ice, a stray ray of wan sunlight that managed to penetrate the rank growth of the Bog.

  "Bind that girl's hands around your middle," Zazar said, exasperated, after

  Anamara had done this several times. "We can't have her flitting off into the underbrush and getting lost again. Not when you seem to put so much store in her."

  "I will keep a closer watch on her," Rohan said. He wrapped Anamara's arms around his waist again and, instead of tying her, held both her hands in one of his. This made for awkward progress, but she no longer could dash away at unexpected moments.

  Just when he was certain that even Zazar had lost her way on this unfamiliar path, they emerged from the Bog. Zazar strode over to an overhanging bush and began pulling it away from what it was hiding.

  "A—a boat!" Rohan exclaimed. He knew he had said something foolish when the

  Wysen-wyf glanced up at him with a look of amused contempt.

  "Of course, a boat," she responded. "How else did you expect we would get this witless damsel of yours across the river? Did you think she would fly?"

  "No, Grandam Zazar," Rohan said, properly chastened. "Again, I must bow to your infinite wisdom."

  He helped Anamara into the little vessel, steadying her as she teetered, apparently having forgotten anything she ever knew about boats, and climbed in after her. To his surprise, Zazar took a seat in the stem.

  "Does this mean that you are coming with me to the Oaken-keep?" he said hopefully.

  "When the little chit came after us I decided that it was high time I visited the place after so many invitations," Zazar replied. "And also, I have decided that I want to be there when you show up with Lady Lackwit and introduce her to

  Ashen." The Wysen-wyf's lips lifted in a grin that was only partially merry. "I wouldn't miss that little meeting for the world!"

  It was a slow journey going on foot. Out in the relative open, Rohan could not keep as close a guard on Anamara as he would have liked, and her sudden asides grew both more frequent and more lengthy as she had freedom to run. Zazar would wait, patiently hunkered down to conserve warmth, while Rohan chased after her.

  Eventually he learned that if he kept offering her bits of the grain-and-fruit mixture, she was more apt to follow than to flit away.

  Because o
f this, they were much longer on their journey from the river to the

  Oakenkeep than Rohan would have liked. They spent three nights out in the open with only an occasional stand of winter-blighted trees for shelter, and the only fortunate thing about it was that Ashen and Gaurin were already well in residence by the time they got there.

  Rohan led Anamara through the gatehouse and toward the Residence. For once, she did not need bribery to keep her from trying to get away from his restraining hand. Instead, she gaped and gawped as if she had never seen a great edifice of this sort before. She stared upward at the towers topping the surrounding walls, her mouth open.

  "This way," he told both Anamara and Zazar, and rapped on the door to the

  Residence, where they were admitted at once. He led them down a corridor to the

  Great Hall.

  Inside, it was chilly enough that their breath could be seen faintly, and yet it was heavenly warmth itself compared to the bitterness of the outdoors. Rohan found himself blowing on his fingers, only now aware of how very cold he was.

  "Build up the fire," he said to the steward who had admitted them, "and please notify Count Gaurin and his lady, my foster mother Ashen, that Rohan is here—with visitors." He turned to Zazar with a shrug. "Might as well make it a total surprise."

  The Wysen-wyf uttered what might have been a cackle, and then busied herself with coaxing Anamara over to the fireplace where servants were obediently bringing in more wood to add to the carefully banked coals. It was a little green, the best firewood having long since been burnt, and would take a while to catch.

  "How now," a woman's voice said. Rohan looked up to see

  Ashen descending the stairs. "Rohan!"

  He rushed toward her and embraced her. "Yes, it is I."

  "Nalren said something about visitors—Zazar!"

  "And who else did you expect?" The Wysen-wyf strove for her usual gruffiness, but she couldn't maintain it. "I am happy to see you well, Ashen, after the strain of the past few days. And how did

  Gaurin fare?"

  "Weil enough. He is unharmed. Busy with the accounts. He won a trophy. I heard the commotion and came to see what was causing it." Ashen was staring past Zazar at Anamara where she stood by the fireplace, so close that she was in some danger of having a stray spark from the coals ignite her muddy, stained dress.

  "And how does this lady come to be in my home?"

  "Brought here witless and in a daze, thanks to the Sorceress."

  Zazar said. "Don't you have anything warm to drink? We really are nearly frozen."

  "Upstairs. We do not usually heat the Great Hall these days, except in the evenings. Nalren, put the logs aside until later."

  "Yes, lady," he said. "Shall I bring you hot spiced juice?"

  "Please. Now, Zazar, Rohan. Bring your—your witless young woman with you. Gaurin awaits above."

  Gaurin arose quickly as Ashen ushered Zazar into the small room at the top of the stairs, located where the big chimney in the Great Hall would help warm it at one wall, with another fireplace on the other to make it truly comfortable.

  "Madame Zazar!" he exclaimed in surprise and pleasure. "You honor my lady's house with your presence." He bowed low over her brown, wrinkled hand, and kissed it. "Ah! Here is Rohan with you. And—Is it really Anamara?"

  "What's left of her," Zazar said tartly. "She ran afoul of the Sorceress. There is much to be told."

  "Then come and sit, rest yourselves, and take the warmth of the fire. We can wait while you catch your breath before you begin."

  Zazar shrugged. "Soonest begun, soonest ended," she said. Then she related, with some prompting and filling-in of details, what had occurred since Rohan had taken his leave of Gaurin in Rendelsham. Both Gaurin and Ashen listened most closely to what the Wysen-wyf had learned in her herb-driven sojourn into the recesses of An-amara's mind.

  "Poor lady," Gaurin commented, when she had finished.

  Rohan looked at Anamara where she perched contentedly near the fire, dabbling in a cup of the hot spiced juice the steward, Nal-ren, had brought. She seemed to have forgotten how to drink out of a cup, and so she was dipping her fingers into it and then sucking them.

  "Poor lady in truth," Rohan said.

  "Poor fool is more like it," Ashen said.

  Rohan swiftly turned to her. "You must know that I—I have a great fondness for her, even in her current state. I swear that I will not rest until she is restored to what she once was."

  Ashen made a sound of dismissal. "And what was that? A little know-nothing, hiding from everyone, fluttering her lashes at you from underneath the hood of her cloak? At her age I knew enough not to act that green and ignorant, even when I was."

  "She was shy with me when first we met, true enough," Rohan said, "but that was before the Dowager promised her to Flavielle. I think from shortly after that moment when the Sorceress arrived at Court, my lady became fearful of her very life, and knew not why, only that she must avoid me. If only she had told me—"

  Ashen got up and began to pace back and forth. "And then what? Would you have challenged both of those women and gotten yourself killed for your troubles? It was bad enough that you rejected Flavielle when she approached you—"

  "I think that was the only thing that saved young Rohan," Zazar said. "Think,

  Ashen. Could it not be that Rohan had been the one first picked as the blood price?"

  The Wysen-wyf's words put a fresh chill in the air as Rohan pondered the truth in them. "I do believe that Grandam Zaz is correct," he said at length. "The

  Sorceress had just come to court and it was only after that unfortunate incident in my room that Anamara seemed to grow cool toward me."

  At the sound of her name, Anamara looked up at him and whistled softly. She smiled.

  "Thoroughly witless," Ashen said. " 'Lady Lackwit' indeed. You named her well,

  Zazar."

  The Wysen-wyf began to laugh, with a sound like a bellows wheezing. "This is all very amusing," she said.

  "I do not find anything the least bit funny about it."

  "Nor I," Rohan said.

  "Well, I do." Zazar settled back in the chair and reached for more of the hot spiced drink. "The boy's fallen in love, that's all. His lady has, at present, the mind of a bird. And his foster mother objects."

  "I have much reason to object!" Ashen responded hotly. "Did this Lady Lackwit come from the Court in Rendelsham or did she not? Has anything good ever come from that pit of iniquity?"

  "You might say so. Wasn't that where you met Gaurin?" Zazar smiled with a trace of smugness.

  The back of Rohan's neck tingled. He knew it was potentially dangerous to come between these two and especially now when they were so close to an open disagreement. He had never thought of Ashen in terms of Power before, but now he realized that she had fully her measure of it, daough it lay untrained and unused. He glanced at Gaurin and knew that the older man shared his thoughts.

  "Come, Rohan," he said. "This is not a matter for men to meddle in. With your arrival, we have three more mouths to feed. There is still an hour or two of daylight before supper in the Hall. Are you thawed enough that, with some fresh warm clothes and boots, you would be up to seeing if we can find something for tomorrow's dinner?"

  "Gladly, Gaurin," he said, getting to his feet. His toes were still like ice, but he would rather freeze entirely than be caught in a small room in the

  Oakenkeep, between two quarreling women.

  "What game is it you are playing at?" Ashen said, when the men had left the room.

  "Game? I don't know what you mean." But Zazar's eyes twinkled. Plainly, she was enjoying herself.

  "You know full well what I mean." Ashen crossed her arms and frowned at the woman whom she called Protector, who had reared her from infancy. She had never been quite so annoyed at Zazar before, and, if asked, she could not have articulated exactly why. There was something about the girl, Anamara, that set

  Ashen's teeth on edg
e. Perhaps she was a spy, sent by Ysa, and this bird-girl act of hers only that—an act. She did not know.

  "I believe I will continue to work on restoring Anamara here at the Oakenkeep,"

  Zazar said, unperturbed, her voice and manner as bland as an egg. "It's much warmer here, and safer, too. I won't need anything in the way of herbs and other items that I haven't brought with me. Mostly it's a matter of mind. I think I will ask Weyse to help me. You would like to see Weyse again, wouldn't you?"