Karag stared up at his master in dismay.
Garth sat quietly at the Forgotten King’s table in the King’s Inn, staring at his mug of ale. He and the old man had travelled all night and half the following morning to return to Skelleth, and Garth had then slept away the rest of the day. When he awoke, the King was back in his corner as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of the sword.
Garth had gotten his ale and seated himself, but neither had spoken.
Finally, the overman said, “It would seem that the Age of Destruction is averted; what does that do to the reckoning of time?”
“Lessened, not averted,” the old man replied
“Only lessened?”
“Yes. Already the Kingdom of Eramma is destroyed by civil war.”
“It is?”
The old man nodded.
Garth wondered at that. He saw no sign of any war, and no news of one had reached him since his return to Skelleth. Still, he knew that the Forgotten King had knowledge beyond the ordinary.
“That’s unfortunate. Wars are wasteful and unnecessary.”
The King did not reply.
There was a moment of silence, and then Garth asked, “Who were those wizards? Why did they attack me?”
“The Council of the Most High, as they call themselves, is sworn to preserve peace,” the old man answered.
“Will they stop the war, then?”
“They will try and fail.”
“Might they not attack me again—or you?”
“No. They have no magic powerful enough, and are scattered and weakened.”
“They seemed powerful to me”
“They drew upon the vault where their ancestors stored away much of their power. I have sealed the vault against them.”
“Might they be able to stop the war, if they had this old magic?”
The Forgotten King shrugged.
Garth sipped his ale, then asked, “When will you send me after the Book of Silence?”
“When I remember where it is.”
“When you remember? Then you knew once?”
The King nodded.
Garth sipped ale again, and asked, “Have you any idea how long it will take you to remember?”
The King replied, “I know that it was I who moved the book from its place in Dûsarra, because no one save you and I can carry it and live. That is all I know. I may recall where I left it tomorrow, or not for thirty years. Until I do, do not bother me. You are free to do as you please, so long as you do not leave Skelleth for any extended period of time, until I remember. Now go away.”
Garth kept his face impassive as he picked up his mug and moved to another table. When he was sure that the old man could not see him, he allowed himself a bitter smile.
The King had made an unusually long speech and an unusually careless one. He had failed to say what an extended period of time was, and Garth found no problem in thinking a year or two would not be excessive. The old man himself had freed Garth from much of the restraint his oath would have placed upon him; no one need know he was forsworn for some time yet.
Anything might happen before the Forgotten King remembered; he might die, Garth might die, or the oath might be renounced. Garth’s false semblance of honor might be retained for years, perhaps even for the rest of his life.
He knew it to be a false semblance, for he had given his oath in bad faith. He gulped down the rest of his ale and signed to the innkeeper for another.
He wondered whether there might not be a higher honor in sacrificing his name and good word for the lives of others.
No, he told himself, he would not delude himself with such false excuses.
The innkeeper approached with a fresh mug, but before he could place it on the table a sudden loud noise drew the attention of both overman and servitor. There was a burst of shouting and much rattling and thumping somewhere outside the King’s Inn.
After a moment of ongoing racket, the unmistakable roar of a warbeast sounded, and the taverner dropped the mug in surprise, denting the pewter vessel and spattering cold ale across the floor and Garth’s legs. The overman paid no attention; he shoved back his chair, rose, and strode to the door to see what was happening, while behind him the innkeeper wiped at the floor with his apron.
Garth had a moment of fear that a new battle had begun and that Skelleth was perhaps to be destroyed all over again. Could the King have been wrong about the wizards? Were they attacking anew?
He dismissed such pessimistic thoughts almost immediately; the sounds were not those of battle, nor of any destructive magic he had yet encountered. There was a cheerful note to the shouting.
He paused in the doorway and looked out. Directly before him was the dark hole where the Baron’s mansion had stood, but beyond it the marketplace was bright with torches and crowded with people and animals. The sun had been down for the better part of an hour, so this gathering was no ordinary trading.
There were men, women, and overmen in the market, as well as several warbeasts and oxen. Most of the people, of whatever species, appeared to be clustered about a pair of warbeasts and a small group of overmen.
Curious, and with nothing to prevent him from doing as he pleased, he marched down the ramp into the cellar pits, across the floor, and up the opposite slope toward the square. As he emerged he spotted Saram in the midst of the mob, looking about wildly; Frima was near him, and Galt was approaching from the opposite direction.
Garth looked over the central grouping; with a start, he recognized the warbeasts and one of the overmen. Tand and his party had returned.
The apprentice trader looked exhausted, and at least one of his companions wore a bloody bandage. Behind him, Garth realized for the first time, were several overmen he had never seen before, wearing strange and outlandish attire—bright cloaks, enameled armor, flaring helmets. Most of them stood quite tall, taller than Garth or most other overmen of the Northern Waste. There were men as well, dressed similarly, and the oxen he had noticed before he now realized formed a line, drawing carts and wagons.
Tand’s mission to the Yprian Coast had obviously been successful; he had brought back a full caravan. Garth’s bitter gloom dissipated in pleased surprise; he had held little real hope for Tand’s errand after his own plans had been shattered by the Sword of Bheleu, the City Council’s disavowal of his actions, and the disastrous battles with the wizards. He had somehow assumed, after all that, that nothing could ever go right again.
Saram had spotted him and was calling and waving; Garth could not make out any words over the general hubbub, but it was plain that Saram wanted to speak with him. Accordingly, he shoved his way into the crowd, bellowing, “Make way! Make way!”
Boots alternately sticking and sliding in the snow and mud underfoot, Garth finally managed to come within earshot of the acting Baron of Skelleth.
“Garth!” Saram called. “Do you have any money?”
“What?”
It was Tand who replied. “These people have brought stocks of food, furs, and other goods, but they demand to see payment before they will allow any to be unloaded. There is nothing in Skelleth they wish to trade for; I promised them gold, told them that Ordunin was rich in gold.”
“Aye!” a new voice said in a harsh and alien accent. “The lad said there was gold to be had!”
“There is!” Garth called back. He turned back toward the King’s Inn and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Ho! Koros!”
He had left the warbeast in an alley at one side of the Inn; there were still too few buildings under roof in Skelleth to permit the stables to be used for mere beasts rather than homeless humans. Koros answered with an audible growl and emerged into the light of the market’s torches.
Garth called again, and the monstrous beast trotted forward. Disdaining the earthen ramps, it leaped down into the
cellar pits and then out again on the market side and made its way across the square toward its master.
The crowd parted before it, and it walked in silent majesty down a broad aisle to Garth’s side.
He took a sack from behind the saddle and pulled out a handful of Aghadite coins that glittered rich yellow in the firelight.
Somewhere someone in the crowd applauded loudly, and the faces of the Yprians, half-hidden beneath their curious helmets, broke into smiles.
“You see?” Tand said with perceptible relief. “I did not lie.”
“You did not lie, little one,” agreed the Yprian spokesman. “Let the bargaining begin!”
Garth lost track of what was happening for several minutes as the crowd gathered around the ox-drawn wagons with much loud talking. He made his way nearer; the presence of Koros at his heel meant that he need not fight the throng, which parted before the warbeast’s fangs like snow before flame.
When he reached the caravan he saw that the villagers were unloading grain, furs, and other goods from the wagons, with Yprian humans keeping careful tally of what was taken, and the Yprian overmen overseeing the operation, making certain that everything went smoothly and no pilferage occurred. As each cart or wagon was emptied of what the people of Skelleth wanted, the man who had been watching it brought the listing of what had been taken and what was left to the group by the warbeasts where Tand, Saram, and several Yprians took note and added the items to their own listings. Galt had made his way in from the other side of the crowd and was watching with evident interest.
Frima was shut out, being far too short to see above the shoulders of the traders; she came over, eyes shining in the torchlight, to speak to Garth.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she exclaimed.
“It is, indeed,” Garth agreed.
“There’s enough here to last half the winter!”
Garth could not help wondering aloud, “But what of the other half?”
“Oh, don’t worry! We’ll manage something! Saram won’t let Skelleth starve.”
Garth noted where she put her trust. “You seem pleased with Saram’s company,” he remarked.
“Oh, I love him! He’s so kind and gentle! Thank you, Garth, for rescuing me from Dûsarra and bringing me here!”
Garth found himself amused by her shift in loyalties, but before he could reply, Saram, Tand, and an Yprian suddenly drowned out other conversation, debating the value of Yprian wine in belligerent shouts. Saram, quickly outmatched by the superhuman bellowings of the two overmen, dropped out and tried to settle grain prices with another of the caravan’s attendants.
Galt noticed Garth’s presence and came over to speak.
When the debate died suddenly with Tand’s concession that even such a poor vintage was worth a pennyweight of gold for every twenty skins to a starving village, Galt remarked, “We are doing well. Our gold buys here seven times what it brought in Lagur.”
“Fortunate indeed, since my supply is not unlimited; Tand has just sworn away half a pound of gold on wine and spices, if I heard right.”
“Yours is not the only gold in Skelleth; we’ll take up a collection when time permits. And do not think Tand wastes the gold; we can send some of Saram’s people to Ordunin with those wineskins and spice jars and bring you at least triple your money. You’ve got the trade you wanted, Garth.”
Garth nodded and watched.
Half an hour later the trading was finished; the Yprian oxcarts were mostly empty, and Garth’s gold was approximately halved. Skelleth’s people were scattering to wherever they currently made their homes, makeshift for most, permanent for a lucky few; the food and goods purchased were being stored in one of the new houses, under the supervision of several of Saram’s ministers, for later distribution, save for furs and warm clothing that had been handed out to the old, the ill-clad, and the children of the village. The Yprians themselves made camp in the market, where they could keep a good eye on their profits and their remaining goods. Garth, Tand, Galt, Saram, and Frima gathered in the King’s Inn for a round of drinks to celebrate the evening’s events before retiring.
There was much congratulation of Tand and his fellows, and the apprentice trader remarked in reply, “It was mostly luck; they were eager to trade. In fact their leader, Fargan, tells me he’s planning a second expedition, to be made with sledges instead of wagons, now that the snows have come.”
“We can use it,” Saram said. “And we’ll want to buy some of those sledges, or build our own, and send them up to Ordunin, Galt tells me.”
“There would be a fine profit in it,” Galt agreed.
“I might send a party to Ur-Dormulk as well,” Saram mused.
No one answered him; they were all tired and thirsty and preferred to drink.
Garth leaned back in his chair, which creaked warningly beneath his weight, and sipped wine. He smiled to himself.
False oath or no, and whatever the state of his personal honor, there was no denying that he had done at least some good here. The gold he had brought from the temple of Aghad and the knowledge of overmen on the Yprian Coast acquired in Dûsarra had saved Skelleth from starvation. The trade he had sought was at last a reality, and Ordunin would be free of Lagur’s monopoly. He was himself free of the Sword of Bheleu. His enemies were defeated, and the Baron of Skelleth dead.
Things might be better, but for the present they would do.
Appendix A
Glossary of Gods Mentioned in the Text
(There are four classes of deity in Eramman theology. Dagha is in an unnamed class by himself, above all others. The other major gods are divided into the seven Lords of Eir, or beneficent gods, and the seven Lords of Dûs, or dark gods. Finally, there are innumerable Arkhein, or minor gods, who are neither wholly good nor wholly evil, but cover a broad range between. This glossary is arranged alphabetically, disregarding these distinctions and the elaborate hierarchy within each group, but each god’s listing specifies in which of the categories he belongs.)
AAL: Reckoned either second or third of the Lords of Eir, Aal is the god of growth and fertility; he is worshipped widely, being the special favorite of farmers and pregnant women.
AGHAD: Fourth among the Lords of Dûs, Aghad is the god of hatred, loathing, fear, betrayal, and most other actively negative emotions. He is widely sworn by, but worshipped only by his relatively small cult.
AMERA: Goddess of the day, Amera is seventh and last among the Lords of Eir. She is worshipped widely nevertheless and revered as the mother of the sun.
ANDHUR: One of the two aspects of Andhur Regvos, sixth Lord of Dûs, Andhur is god of darkness. He is extremely unpopular.
ANDHUR REGVOS: See ANDHUR and REGVOS.
AYVI: First of the Lords of Eir, Ayvi is the god of life and conception. Since he is ruler only of the creation of life, and not its preservation or improvement, he is prayed to only by would-be parents and breeders of livestock. His name is rarely used; like his dark counterpart, The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken, he is usually referred to by description rather than by name, e.g., Life, the Life-God, the Birth-God (inaccurate but common), the First God.
BEL VALA: God of strength and preservation, Bel Vala is rated either second or third among the Lords of Eir. He is a favorite god of soldiers and warriors, and supposed to be of particular aid if prayed to in times of dire stress.
BHELEU: God of chaos and destruction, ranked second among the Lords of Dûs. Bheleu is worshipped only by a very few people since Garth’s killing of his Dûsarran cultists, mostly the more deranged and violent lords and warriors.
DAGHA: In a class by himself/herself/itself, Dagha is the god of time and the creator of the Lords of Eir and Dûs. Dagha is the only deity not assigned a gender, though he is customarily referred to in the masculine form for the sake of convenience. Believed to be above all mundane concerns, Dagha is not worshipped or
prayed to.
DÛS, LORDS OF: The dark gods: Tema, Andhur Regvos, Sai, Aghad, P’hul, Bheleu, and The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken.
EIR, LORDS OF: The gods of light: Amera, Leuk, Gan, Pria, Bel Vala, Aal, and Ayvi.
EKNISSA: Arkhein goddess of fire, worshipped mostly by barbaric tribesmen.
ERAMMA: The Arkhein earth-mother goddess, for whom the Kingdom of Eramma was named, since the kingdom’s founders intended it to take in all the world, a goal that it never came close to achieving. The worship of Eramma is considered old-fashioned, but still lingers among farming folk.
GAU: Fifth among the Lords of Eir, Gau is goddess of joy and pleasure in all its forms, including eating, sex, and strong drink, as well as the less earthly delights of humor and good company. Worshipped everywhere, in various and sundry ways.
GOD WHOSE NAME IS NOT SPOKEN, THE: This term is used to refer to the first of the Lords of Dûs, the god of death. He does have a name, known to a very few, but it is popularly believed that any person speaking the name aloud will die instantly. He is sometimes referred to simply as Death. He is not worshipped, but shunned everywhere, feared even by the caretakers of his temple in Dûsarra. Various circumlocutions are used to avoid mentioning him; he is known as the Final God, the Death-God, and other such things.
KEWERRO: A very ancient Arkhein god identified with storms and the north wind. Placatory sacrifices are common, but he has no real worshippers.
KOROS: Arkhein god of war, strife, and battle, often considered to be Bheleu’s son and servant. Worshipped by the more fanatical soldiers and warriors.
LEUK: Sixth of the Lords of Eir, Leuk is the god of light, color, and insight.
MELLITH: Arkhein goddess of lightning.
MORI: Arkhein god of the sea, worshipped by sailors everywhere. The Sea of Mori is believed to be the god’s particular home.
P’HUL: Third among the Lords of Dûs, P’hul is the goddess of decay, disease, and age. She is worshipped only by her small cult in Dûsarra, but is widely prayed to in hopes of warding off her touch.
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