Having met the man, and looked into his eyes, Jame needed nothing further than his own discernment. Joktan had declared that his descendent was “the best of all men”, and Jame had seen this as he spoke with him. There was about Lord Aram an aura of something old, tested, and true. If the world of men was to survive the coming struggle, its fate would lie in this one man’s hands more than in any other place, and the Hay was glad of that fact.
Jame’s father had died while he was yet in his mother’s womb. Except for the books written by his father’s brother, Uncle Willar, who lived southward in Sunderland and was an avid student of history, there had been no good sources of reliable knowledge of current affairs beyond the borders. And, of course, Willar’s knowledge came mainly from intercourse with sailors and tradesmen, and was therefore suspect. But even Willar had sent a note with Muray saying, “Listen to this man Aram, for he knows whereof he speaks”.
After gaining Kipwing’s friendship, Jame had turned to the “winds” as his main source of information, and had found that source solid, for the lords of the air viewed events as they happened. Through Kipwing, Jame often had access to information while it was yet new. Some of that which had recently come to light about Aram seemed exaggerated, as in the tale of his scattering an entire army single-handedly, or smiting a mountain so that it brought forth burning rock. Yet, Kipwing was known to embellish nothing. He spoke plainly, often bluntly, and was unimpressed by the Hay’s exalted status among his people, clearly valuing only his friendship, though valuing it greatly. When the eagle spoke, therefore, Jame listened, and believed.
Kipwing had discovered that much of what was known of the man Aram, was known not so much by humans, but by the other noble peoples – eagles, horses, and wolves, who expected greatness of him, and in fact had seen it demonstrated already.
Now, Jame had met him, and nothing seemed exaggerated. Lord Aram had stood in the Great Hall with a weapon of unspeakable power slung over his shoulder – a weapon with which he could probably have reduced the Land of Lamont to ash. Jame had felt the power of the thing, even though it had been sheathed, and its nearness made him tremble. But Aram had borne it casually enough and while bearing it had exhibited only politeness and graciousness. No, this man was a king, and Jame had meant it when he expressed his fealty.
So, Lamont would go to war. There was now only to persuade Edwar, the captain that would stand at head of Lamont’s strength as it followed Aram.
There was a knock at the door. Jame turned.
The Dame Regent and Captain Edwar were let into the private quarters of the Hay of Lamont by a servant who was not surprised by her presence but utterly astonished at his. No one had entered these rooms except for the Hay’s mother since he had moved into them eight years previously. The Dame Regent often came – but no one else had ever sought, or been allowed entry, until today. On this day, the Hay himself had left instructions that the captain of his swords was to be allowed entrance.
Vitorya smiled and moved toward her son. Edwar bowed stiffly and stepped to one side of the entrance door.
Jame embraced his mother and looked at the captain. “Come in. Come in, sir, and sit.” He raised his voice and spoke to Rabet, the unseen servant beyond the door. “Bring wine.”
Edwar came diffidently toward his Hay and sat in the proffered chair.
Jame studied him a moment, and then without preamble said, “I want to know your thoughts.”
“About Lord Aram?”
“If you please.”
The captain glanced at Vitorya and drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I wonder, Your Grace,” he began cautiously, “at your willingness to accept the pedigree of this stranger come to your door without any certain knowledge of his circumstances or his beginnings.” He spread his hands wide. “We have not even heard his name before now. Yes, he travels in the company of horses, and that’s a remarkable thing, but –”
Jame held up a hand, cutting him off. “You have not heard his name before, captain, it’s true; but out in the greater world beyond our borders his name is well known, and spoken with awe.” He rose and went to the window. “As for his pedigree, it is undoubted, at least by me.”
Jame stared out the window for a long moment in silence. The town below was ablaze in the full darkness of night, and the eastern horizon was unseen, melded with the black sky.
He turned and met Edwar’s eyes. “Did you think that we were insulated from those things that imperil the rest of the world? That our frail walls would keep the fires of war at bay? Or, did you not think that war would come?”
Edwar flushed red, though he was careful to answer politely. “Of course I – we – knew about the troubles abroad in the world. The grim lord puts forth his hand again, and shadows of evil creep out of the northern reaches of the world. Even those lands reputed to be strong, like Elam in the west, have been put under great strain. Discussions of contingencies consume the council’s business almost daily. Yes, Your Grace, we knew all this. Still –”
“Daily, you say? Indeed.” James eyes grew brittle and his thin eyebrows slid up his forehead. “And was there any discussion of troubling your Hay with these heavy burdens?”
Edwar flushed again, deeply red, but this time because of the influence of a quite different emotion. He cast a quick, desperate glance at Vitorya. “Your Grace, we –”
Jame laughed, though his blue eyes remained icy. “I know, captain. The Hay is young, and quite possibly an idiot. There is no point in seeking the counsel of a deaf-mute.”
Involuntarily, Edwar shot to his feet. “Your Grace – please!”
There was a knock at the door and Rabet entered, bearing a bottle of wine and three glasses, which he arranged on the table. Bowing to Jame, he left the room.
The Hay waited until the door had closed and then made a small, quick motion with his hand. “Sit down, sir. Let us not waste our breath and our time on that which no longer matters. I wished to be left alone as I grew to manhood, that I might learn all that was required to care for my people properly. Of course, I expected to care for them in peace.” He sighed. “I fear that luxury has been taken from me by events.”
He poured the wine himself, and handed a glass to his mother and then to Edwar. “I also know of those things that trouble the world. I know that Manon the Grim has arisen again, and grown in strength.” He met Edwar’s gaze. “In point of fact, his power has grown to frightening proportions. I am also occupied by these things. Knowledge comes to me from distant skies on the wings of the wind – almost daily, to employ your words. There may be only one other man on the face of the earth more aware of the proportions of the grim lord’s power than I – and he rests tonight at the Silver Arms below the hill.”
He tipped up his glass and his blue eyes hardened again. “There is no more time for games – played by you or by me. We must now take counsel together.”
“Of course, Your Grace, I will –”
Jame held up his hand. “That is for later. There is something more immediate to discuss.”
Once more he went to the window and was silent for a time. Without turning, he said. “Did you think, captain, that we would fight alone, at need, or that we would lead a company of allies? Did you think it would fall to us to free the world?” He turned then. “Who are our allies? Who will stand with us when the armies of the grim lord gather at our gates?”
Edwar sighed. “We had hoped, Your Grace, that war would not come to our borders, that the grim lord would be satiated by distant conquests, or even stymied by others – Elam, perhaps. We have been listening, watching, trying to determine the direction of things.”
“Manon is a god, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“If there is anything to be learned from the ancient history of the world, it is this – Manon will never be satisfied. We are as dust to him – even mighty Elam is as dust. When he unleashes his power, he will let it run to the ends of the earth. No one will escape it.”
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Edwar blanched. “How do you know this, Your Grace?”
“My friend, Kipwing, has been alive for centuries, and there are those in his acquaintance who were alive when Joktan fell so long ago. They know much, and they see much. Manon has arisen again, his lust undiminished; the old patterns re-emerge, and now we do not have Kelven or Joktan to lead us in defiance of his intent. So what do we do?”
There was a silence then, during which Jame sipped at his wine and watched his Captain of Swords.
Finally, Edwar asked, “What do we do?”
“We fight.”
Edwar nodded. “Of course, Your Grace, our armies are well-trained, and in a state of readiness. When the time comes, we will fight.”
“The time is come now.”
The captain went still. “Now?”
“Yes. War is already being waged. Lord Aram has been fighting for years. He is a powerful man, but he is nearly alone. That is why he has come – to seek aid of us; and it is why he will go into Seneca. He and his people already bleed for our safety. We must follow him, ally with him, whatever others do – though I have had word that our neighbors to the west, Duridia, have expressed fealty.”
Edwar made as if to speak, but Jame silenced him with a severe look. He set down his glass, met his mother’s gaze for a long moment and then turned to Edwar and spoke with quiet firmness. “Understand, captain, war has come, and if we do not possess the courage and conviction to bleed on distant fields now, the day will arrive when we will bleed on our own doorsteps.”
“But we know so little of this man, however strong his pedigree.” Edwar protested.
“Which is exactly why you will go with him into the east. I am already sure of him, for my own reasons, but I need your mind to be settled on the matter as well. Go with him and when you return, if you are not convinced – then we will take counsel together.”
31
By the time the sun climbed past mid-morning, the column had traveled south from Condon to the main junction of the ancient roads and turned east. The wolves traveled openly with them now. Three days earlier, in advance of their departure, Jame had caused word to spread through the land that Aram’s party was to be aided in any way required and be immune from meddling. Also, Edwar carried an official decree in his pocket.
As they went east, the land changed gradually from rumpled lowlands covered with farms and scattered villages, and cut by frequent streams flowing toward the sea, to rougher, higher country, spotted with the odd, high-crowned trees peculiar to this part of the world. Eastward in Lamont, farms were situated fewer and further between, and this trend strengthened as they traveled. As the day waned to the west, there began to be occasional outcroppings of rock studding the hilltops, and farms grew scarcer yet. Though its briny scent soaked the air, they did not see the ocean.
Late in the day, when the sun had slipped partially below the western horizon, and Kipwing had turned away toward the sea to sup, the road topped a rocky crest and they looked across a small valley to the ridge opposite, upon whose crest ran the wall that guarded the eastern approaches to Lamont. Next to it were clustered the lights of a sizeable town, shining in the evening that had already arrived in the valley below.
They drew to a halt and Edwar looked over at Aram. “The town of Warren,” he said. “There is an inn here, and we are expected – provided the Hay’s writ has reached this place. If not, I have money with which to pay.”
Aram nodded. “He stated that you had seen action.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Aram turned in the saddle and looked at him. “The Hay – he stated that you had ‘seen action in the field’.”
Edwar glanced away, and involuntarily looked toward the north. “It was an accident of events – and should never have happened.”
Aram waited in silence. He knew that he was prying into the affairs of a man that hadn’t yet decided about the state of his allegiances, but he wanted to know. Based on those things that might transpire further east along this very road, he felt that he must know. And so he waited for Edwar to continue.
The captain glanced at him, and then, once again, his gaze strayed away to the north. “We always had an uneasy alliance with the wild folk on the eastern borders of Lamont,” he said, “and even traded with them from time to time. But there were instances of…difficulties…between our two peoples as well.
“I was on patrol along our northeastern border with a large force, trying to determine where the beasts had gone and if possible, ascertain their intentions. We came over a ridge and looked down upon a long, wide valley filled with wagons of people and oxcarts of supplies. It was a large party of wild folk. There was no question but that we were well inside the borders of Lamont, and there had been incidents of wild folk encroaching on our lands – even, in one or two instances, overrunning outlying farms, forcing rightful citizens to abandon their lands and the fruits of their hard labor.
“This appeared to be something of that sort, for we were operating in a remote part of the country. Our force immediately deployed to go down and accost the encroachers when, without warning, we were attacked on our flank by at least a hundred of their men, throwing spears and slinging stones among our company. We wheeled to meet the attack and launched an assault of our own.” He bit at his lip and glanced again into the north, where darkness had overtaken the earth. “Turns out they were simply running from something terrible – the winged demons, I assume – frightened nearly out of their wits, and only attacked us because we surprised them as much as they did us.”
He sighed deeply. “It was a slaughter. We lost fourteen men, but we killed or wounded every one of them – the fathers, husbands, and sons of the women and children in the wagons.”
He pointed slightly to the left of the lights twinkling in the gathering dusk below them. “We brought the survivors inside the border and gave them food and shelter. Others followed, many others. By the time the great wall was built, I think every man, woman, and child left alive of the wild folk had moved inside its protection. They dwell here still, in shabby huts, grouped up against the wall, afraid to go home, but unwilling to fully join with us.”
He met Aram’s gaze with regret in his eyes. “Such is the extent of my experience in ‘action’.”
Aram nodded. “Still, you do have some experience then, in the tactics of close fighting.”
Edwar’s eyes narrowed; he was surprised at Aram’s pragmatic reaction to the telling of that which he considered sad, and a little shameful. “Not much”, he answered.
Aram shrugged. “Experience has value, whether it be great or small.”
Edwar’s eyes narrowed further. “You really are a man of war, aren’t you?”
The man’s subtle disapproval finally registered with Aram. He gazed at Edwar without expression for a long moment. “Only at need,” he replied at length. “I’d rather be a man of peace.”
He turned and gazed thoughtfully at the unseen place that had been pointed out by Edwar’s finger. “If the land is made safe, will they go home?”
Surprise showed on Edwar’s features. “I suppose – if it could proven to be safe. But how is a thing like that to be accomplished?”
Aram smiled grimly. “I may get the chance to show you,” he said, and looked toward the town. “Shall we go down?”
They were, in fact, not expected, but Edwar was known and the writ from the Hay undoubted. Though the inn was nothing like those in the capitol, the rooms were warm, clean, and fairly spacious, and the food was very good fare indeed. Much to Mallet’s delight, the extremely fine whiskey was also available, even here on the frontier.
“Does it flow like water in this land?” He asked, incredulously.
Edwar smiled. “Very nearly.”
Mallet drained his glass and beamed. “Then I shall leave Derosa and become a – what, a Lamontian – is that the proper term?”
“If you like, though we prefer Lamontan.”
“Lamontan it is,
then.” Mallet looked around to find Aram’s eye on him, eyebrows raised, a slight smile on the face of his prince. He flushed red, and swallowed. “Nay, my lord, ‘tis only a jest. A Derosan I am, and a Derosan I will stay.”
Aram’s smile broadened and he saluted him by turning up his own glass. He licked at his lips. “It is a tempting thought though, isn’t it?”
Mallet grinned in return, and looked across at Edwar. “You have a friend for life though, lad, I’ll tell you that.”
Later, in their room, Aram watched Ka’en dress out of her traveling clothes. Becoming suddenly aware of her exposure – though to her husband alone and only in the uncertain light of candles – she sat down quickly on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her. But Aram, for once, was distracted by other thoughts, even in the presence of his shapely wife robbed of her clothing.
He met her eyes, which twinkled mischievously. Her good humor faded as she saw the expression on his face.
“We pass the wall tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded slowly. “I know.”
“It’s not too late –”
“No. I’m going. I told you once that I would go with you to the ends of the earth.” She glanced out the darkened window, which looked toward the east. “From what I hear, the end is just a short distance that way.” She turned back to Aram. “You’re going there, and I’m going, too.”
He looked down at the bed, no doubt the last of such comforts that they would see for some time, and he thought about the nights ahead, sleeping in the company of others, fully dressed, in a cramped shelter beside the road. Then he looked at the gentle curve of her exposed back, glowing soft and white in the light of the candles.
And he began removing his clothes.
Afterward, he slept with her head on his shoulder as she lay close to him, wrapped in the shelter of his strong right arm.
The next morning, there were clouds, pushing northward from the sea that obscured the sunrise. The dining hall was dim, and nearly empty, except for the members of the company. Mallet looked around at his companions, a rebellious light in his eye.
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 33