Finally, he nodded. “I would like to know.”
Jame gazed at Aram, and came to his feet. “This man is rightly our lord, Edwar.”
He held up his hand, palm outward, as the Dame Regent and Edwar also stood – the one astonished and afraid of the abrupt and unsettling turn of the day’s events, this last statement of her son more disturbing than any so far; and the other seething with sudden indignation.
“Surely, Your Grace, you cannot mean –”
Jame pivoted slowly to face his captain of swords and his mother. He let his gaze settle on Edwar. “Have you ever heard my voice before this day?”
Edwar shook his head. “No, Your Grace, but this –”
“And to what have you ascribed my silence in this hall?”
Edwar shot a glance at Vitorya, and then looked around the hall, obviously casting about for an inoffensive answer. Before he could speak, the Hay asked a further question, and his voice had an edge to it.
“Did you think me a fool, as others have done?”
Edwar’s eyes widened, and their inner light of shrewdness paled. “No, Your Grace, never. You cannot believe this.”
“You’re right, captain – I do not believe it.” Jame smiled, and the edge to his voice faded. “You are my mother’s best friend and most faithful confidant – and her lover. For all these things, I am grateful to you.”
Edwar stiffened, Vitorya paled, but Jame continued to smile, and the smile became gentle. “You have not thought me a fool, Edwar, though others have – I know this, for I am, in fact, not a fool. I hear, I see, I know; and I care about this land and its people. The welfare of Lamont is the central issue of my life.”
He moved his hand. “Please, sit. And you, mother.” He looked at each of them in turn. “My own father died before my birth, when illness took him. I saw you, Edwar, at the first – how you and she looked at each other when you came to work at the Hall. It is a singular regret of mine that your peculiar stations have prevented open courtship.”
He laughed suddenly, brightly, and glanced at Aram. “But this is the dawn of a new age, and much will change. I think that I will change this one thing at the first –” He frowned suddenly and looked at his mother. “Unless, of course, you prefer things as they stand and do not welcome my meddling?”
Vitorya and Edwar glanced at each other and Edwar made as if to stand. Once again, Jame intervened. “But this is a private matter, which can properly be resolved later.” He turned back to Aram. “Lord Aram, I have unsettled my two most trusted advisors, and perhaps astonished you by my expression of fealty a moment ago.”
“I would never have – I did not expect it,” Aram admitted.
“And yet I meant it, my lord, with all my heart. Hear me – the resources of Lamont are at your disposal. Our army is not experienced, but it is of a certain size, nonetheless – at least six thousand men, I think; and it is well-trained. Master Edwar will verify these matters with you later. When you move once more against the grim lord, I pray you will call upon your allies, for such we now are.”
Aram gazed back at him, stunned, and Edwar remained silent, having been reduced to an uneasy silence by these astonishing statements and revelations.
“I have succeeded in amazing you all. How wonderful!” Jame clapped his hands together and laughed again. “And I think, my friends, that I can amaze you yet again. Witness my surprise, if you will.”
He turned and looked upward, toward the railing at the heights of the hall.
“Open the window,” he commanded of someone unseen, “and let my friend come in.”
A moment later, a large winged figure descended toward the dais.
Aram stood, staring. “Alvern!”
But it was not Alvern. The eagle, enormous and golden-feathered with black-tipped wings, twisted down and lit on the back of the Hay’s throne. Dame Vitorya and Edwar rose to their feet in shock, which deepened into astonishment when the great bird looked at Aram and spoke, including everyone in the room in his remarks.
“No, I am not Alvern, but I know him well, though I have not spoken to him in more than a century. I am called Weathertalon – but while I was young, he named me Kipwing, for reasons I cannot fathom. I have found that I prefer this name, however; it is shorter, and it came from him. Lord Alvern dwells in skies far to the west. He is my grandfather.” The bird stretched his mighty wings and folded them back along his body, and then moved his clawed feet, adjusting his weight on the back of the Hay’s throne. He met Aram’s gaze. “Do you know my illustrious ancestor, Lord Aram?”
“He is one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
Indeed?” The eagle blinked his golden eyes. “Then it must be he that speaks so highly of you unto the world – those things that come to me on the wings of the wind.”
Jame turned his head and looked up at the eagle. “And what does the wind tell you, my friend?”
“Mostly this.” Kipwing grew quiet and still for a moment as he gazed at Aram. “That hope has returned to us. It walks the earth in the shape of a man who has been to the mountain of Kelven and wields in his hand the strength of the gods. There are those that believe it is Kelven himself that has returned.”
He gazed hard at Aram. “Are you the Lord Kelven?”
“No,” Aram shook his head. “I have met Lord Kelven – and I assure you, I am much less than he – much less.”
“And yet the winds name you Hope – and Vengeance.”
Vitorya and Edwar – and even Ka’en – turned to stare at Aram, who shifted uncomfortably under the unwanted attention. To his left, he heard Muray gasp, and could feel the stocky Westlander’s eyes boring into him.
He shook his head again. “I am but a man.”
“The heir of Joktan,” Jame said quietly.
“So the king himself says,” Aram admitted reluctantly.
Jame turned and glanced up at the face of the statue. “I can see that a resemblance exists, quite clearly.” He went quiet for a moment. “We were not there on that day long ago, when he faced the enemy. Lamont, as a nation, did not exist then. At that time, there were none here but a small troupe of miners, working the ore at the base of the mountain – and most of those were recalled to serve in the king’s army as he resisted the grim lord.” He looked at Aram. “So you see, at the beginning, we were of Joktan’s people, and therefore of yours.”
The Hay looked back up at the statue. “Our history – admittedly young compared to the age of the world – always told us that with his death, the king succeeded in purchasing freedom for the world. But now, we know that it was never true – and that the world is menaced again.”
He sat down on the throne beneath Kipwing’s massive form, and placed his chin in his hands, gazing at Aram. “It seems that the final battle was not won, after all, and must be fought yet again.”
There were several long moments of silence as everyone in the Great Hall digested these words and then Jame sat back, placing his arms on the rails of his throne, and raised his quiet voice so that it seemed to fill the broad space. “But we are no longer a minor outpost in a corner of the wilderness. We are a nation now, of some size and strength. You have my promise, Lord Aram, that where and whenever battle is joined, Lamont will not be absent.”
Aram found himself moved by this, and did not know how to answer. He felt Ka’en’s fingers tighten on his arm. After another silence, Jame looked at his mother.
“You must have questions.”
Vitorya stood, her hands clasped on her breast. “All this time…”
“Yes,” the Hay nodded sympathetically. “I was an odd child, mother, I know. And I am an odd man, too. Who else – beside Lord Aram here – talks with eagles?”
She glanced up at the great bird. “How –?”
Jame smiled. “I love to walk the high crags and the dark forests of the mountain, as you know. The heights of the mountain are dear to my heart, my places of solace. One day, as I wandered, I heard Kipwing’s voice in my min
d as he called to another of his kind. I astonished him by answering. We have been friends for some time now.”
She walked over to him, and laid one hand gently on his arm. “Why did you not speak except to me, and then in but short sentences and few words?”
He looked up at her with a gentle smile. “I preferred to be thought of as unusual, apart, as it were. I love my people, mother, and care for them, but I have seen their society, and I do not particularly care for it. I am ever happiest when roaming the quiet and peaceful landscapes of my own thoughts, and that will not change. When Lord Aram leaves us, I will return to my solitude and my silence, for I prefer it – but I will continue to watch over our people – with your help, of course, and Edwar’s.”
“But you will converse with me?”
“Yes. I will not withdraw from you again, I promise.” He placed his hand over hers and looked toward Aram. “Forgive this personal interlude, my lord. Is there aught else I might do for you? Edwar will confer with you on matters of war – I place him at your disposal. Don’t scowl so, Master Edwar. I understand this is sudden and surprising. I trust that in time – very little time, I hope – you will see the wisdom of my actions.”
Aram shook his head and replied, “You have very kindly attended to all my needs, Your Grace. I am most grateful.”
At that, Jame stood, and swept his arm to one side. “My Lord and My Lady, it is a most pleasant day outside – might I interest you in taking a turn in my gardens?”
Aram came to his feet. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
The young Hay descended the steps below and to the left of his throne and indicated a passageway that ran toward the back of the hall along the right-hand side of the dais. “Let us all go out into the fresh air.” He smiled brightly at Aram and then glanced over at his mother. “If you will walk with me, my lord; perhaps Lady Ka’en will consent to accompany my mother, that they may attain an acquaintance.”
Vitorya consented to this somewhat stiffly and uneasily, but Ka’en nodded and graciously halted to wait for the Hay’s mother.
They went along the hallway, Jame stepping out so brightly that Aram found himself quickening his step in order to keep up. The two women followed hesitantly while Edwar, scowling slightly, trailed behind them. Muray brought up the rear.
The hallway broadened where it turned sharply to the left behind the throne room and climbed up a short series of steps. Windows rose along the right-hand, through which they could see a large walled garden, filled with flowers and green bushes and flowering shrubs. Over all there rose several of the long-trunked trees with the broad inverted-bowl canopies. The dark mass of the mountain towered behind and above all, its dark slopes clothed with thick forest. Directly, they came to a pair of tall doors that opened into these gardens. A servant swung them wide.
Jame stepped lightly out into the warm sunshine and immediately made for the interior regions of the colorful acres. Turning right and then left, and then right again, he came to a long pool, from which fountains shot skyward, filling the air with mist. Here he stopped abruptly and turned to face Aram, but his eyes went past, to the two women who had themselves stopped and were ostensibly admiring a group of long-stemmed, blue flowering plants while each eyed the other surreptitiously.
“This is a difficult day for my mother, Lord Aram.”
Surprised, Aram turned to look at the women. “Indeed?”
Jame sighed. “She is a very good woman, kind, quick, clever, and capable. But we are somewhat isolated here, and generally care little for that which lies beyond our borders. Many of my people, I fear, believe Lamont to be the center of the world. I have known for some time that this fanciful belief, while understandable, is simply untrue, but mother, I think, held to it almost religiously. I do not think that she ever imagined that somewhere out in the wide world, there was another woman who occupied a higher station.”
Aram frowned. “Ka’en?”
The Hay looked at him in surprise. “Of course – the seat of a queen is necessarily exalted above that of a Dame Regent.”
“A queen? – but –”
Jame nodded. “But of course – she is your wife.”
Aram frowned at him. “I am no king, Your Grace.”
“Please, my lord,” Jame grimaced, “modesty may suit you, but it does not suit your station. Joktan was king of all the earth. You are his heir, we are his people, and therefore you are our king. I may be the only one of my people at present that knows this, or understands it, but I know it nonetheless.”
“He was king, yes, but –”
Jame’s clever gaze roved across his face. “Did you examine the statue in the hall closely, my lord? Truly, it could have been fashioned after your likeness as easily as his. Joktan was king, and you are his blood. Therefore, I say again, you are our king.”
Aram shifted uncomfortably. “Your Grace –”
“Ha – see? How odd it sounds to be addressed thus by he who is rightly my liege lord.” Jame laughed shortly, and then grew serious. He raised his eyebrows. “I listen to Kipwing’s winds, Lord Aram, and I, too, know what is said of that which happens in the world beyond our borders. There is great evil in the world and it grows daily toward domination of all life. It will come to Lamont unless it is checked.” He leaned forward and the blue in his eyes seemed to sharpen and grow deeper. “The winds say that you have come into the world in order to change it. Such words can only mean one thing.”
“The removal of Manon,” Aram answered, before he could stop himself.
Jame glanced up at the hilt of the sword and nodded. “Nothing else, my lord. You see, I have also thought on those things that come to me from abroad, and I see more than is credited to me.”
Aram acquiesced to this with a wry smile. “You see more than most.”
Jame’s gaze slipped past Aram’s shoulder to the two women standing a few paces away. Vitorya had relaxed a little, even smiled slightly, though she still stood with her arms wrapped tightly to her bosom; but Ka’en smiled readily and spoke easily, with small graceful movements of her hands. After a moment, Jame nodded. “I see something more, my lord.” His eyes came back to Aram’s face. “I see why you fit.”
This statement mystified Aram. “Why I fit –?”
“You and the Lady Ka’en – the two of you – why you fit together.” Jame explained.
Aram didn’t know how to answer this peculiar statement.
After a moment, the young Hay, obviously pleased with the bent of his thoughts, continued. “You and she are like the two great lights that the Maker gave unto this world. You are the sun, my lord, while she is the moon. You both bring light – but hers is gentle and discreet, softening all that it touches.” His demeanor became suddenly grim as he stared into Aram’s face. “You give light too, Lord Aram – but it is often blinding, I think, and burns fierce and hot. You seem to me like a man that has been touched by the Maker Himself. I fear that your light may wither some of those that fall under its influence.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his head and looked past the bulk of the hall, out over the wide land of Lamont. His soft voice took on an undertone of ferocity. “May it fall upon Manon and reduce him to ash.”
Surprised by the young man’s abrupt change in temperament, Aram watched him and said nothing.
After a moment, Jame laughed, breaking the dark mood, and clapped his hands together. “Would you like to see what Lord Joktan did to my gardens?”
Before Aram could answer, he turned and stepped quickly away. “Come, Lord Aram – you really must see this.”
Near the right rear corner of the pool, beneath the billowing mists of a fountain, he halted and with a quick movement of his hand indicated a withered, graying shrub, from which the dead, blackened blossoms of large, ovoid flowers drooped and fell.
“One of my finest roses,” Jame explained. He pointed down at the stone path. “The king stood there, right there. He was just a hooded shadow – I could see right through
him. At first I thought him a trick of the light, but then he spoke to me –” Jame touched himself on the forehead. “– and I heard his voice ring in my head. ‘I am Joktan,’ he said. ‘Soon, you will meet my son. His name is Aram, and he will arrive within the week.’” Jame laughed as he gazed at the ruined shrub. “I asked him for proof of his presence and he reached out and touched this. It died immediately.” He turned and looked at Aram. “But you, my lord – you are the real proof of his presence in my gardens.”
He stared at Aram for a long moment and then looked back along the path. “Shall we join the others, and thereby ease my mother’s discomfort?”
Vitorya, as it turned out, had already relaxed a bit under Ka’en’s calming influence and the two women were talking more easily. Edwar still scowled, but Muray gazed about in wonder, no doubt deciding on which adjectives he would use to tell Eoarl and Dunna about his visit to the Hay’s private gardens.
Jame halted near his mother and looked at Aram, raising his voice to gain the attention of the others. “Lord Aram – you promised that I might speak with Lord Florm, the ancient one. I will hold you to this promise today, if I might. As to our business – I will direct our workmen to commence the manufacture of your coinage.” Remembering the gold that Aram had poured out near his feet in the hall, he smiled. “Much of your wealth, I suspect, will return into your service, for we will use it to gain weaponry for the days ahead, when our strength stands with yours.”
He turned toward the hall, but then hesitated. “Will you stay with us for a time, my lord? There is much I would discuss with you. And Edwar must yet be convinced of the changes wrought here today, I fear.”
Aram shook his head regretfully. “I apologize, but we can stay but for a few days only, Your Grace. Time slips away from me and I must go into the east, to discover what I can of Seneca.”
The Hay went silent and somber at this statement while he gazed at Aram. After a few moments, he nodded, frowning. “I heard this – I heard this whispered of you – that you would go east, as I walked last evening. Indeed, these rumors of your intent fill the streets of Condon.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 31