Jame’s attention then turned upward, at the hilt of the sword rising above Aram’s back. “I saw power – and magic – in that sword when first we met. And now I hear tales from Edwar of the astonishing things that you accomplished by the employment of it. Will you consent to telling exactly what it is, my lord – or is it a secret?”
Aram hesitated a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No, it is not a secret.” Then, deliberately, he met Jame’s eyes. “If it were, I would still share it with my closest friends.”
Jame flushed at the implied compliment, and then spoke quietly. “Will you tell me what it is, then?”
“It is a gift from Kelven.”
Jame’s eyes went wide. “Kelven – the god?”
Aram nodded.
“I had heard that you went to the mountain, but like so many things I hear of you, it seemed an exaggeration.”
“No, there is no exaggeration in this – I did go to his mountain, and he made me a gift of this weapon that it might aid us in the struggles ahead.”
A frown momentarily crossed Ka’en’s face at this statement and Jame, quick and clever as always, caught it. Unwilling to delve further out of deference to the lady, he simply waited, sipping at his wine, watching her.
Aram also turned to look at her, frowning, but she met his eyes only for a moment, and then she spoke to the Hay. “The sword was no gift, Your Grace. I have been told by an unimpeachable authority that my husband risked his life to gain this thing. It was not simply gifted to him, as he so casually states – but that he went into a terrible, mysterious place to lay hold on it and bring it forth. What the circumstances were of his journey, or where that distant place may be found, I know not, but King Joktan himself related the tale.”
Jame regarded Aram for a long moment. “Forgive me, my lord, but as usual, your modesty borders on deceit. Benign deceit, honorable deceit, it’s true, but a falsehood nonetheless.” He started to grin, but the grin failed. “And, as usual, you went into the breach alone. My lord, this behavior of yours must come to an end. The world will follow you if you allow it. And for us to follow, you must be present to lead.”
He turned in his chair so that he faced Aram fully. When he spoke, his voice carried an iron undertone of deliberate rebuke. “Lay aside this humility, my lord – though sincere; it serves you not. You must, without hesitation, assume your rightful place at the head of the free peoples, for no one else on earth can stand there.” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned toward Aram and his demeanor grew even more serious. “The king came to see me again.”
“Joktan?”
“Yes. Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but we talked much of you. I will tell you that Lord Joktan – like myself – is concerned that you bear so much of the burden alone.” He spread his hands, indicating all those that sat at the table. “Share that burden with us, and we will help you bear it.”
Aram’s sense of discomfort mounted. He recognized the wisdom of the young Hay’s words – nonetheless, his natural aversion to airing such thoughts in a social setting remained strong, born, perhaps, of the many years he’d spent alone, forging his solitary will in the wilderness. Needing something to shift the attention focused on him toward other topics, he looked at Jame, indicated the weapon, and said, “It’s called the Sword of Heaven.”
Jame’s eyes flicked upward to the hilt of the sword but came back to rest almost immediately on Aram’s face. The expression upon his features, already solemn, became abruptly more so. “I rather think, my lord,” he replied, “that you are the Sword of Heaven – and that weapon – for all its immense power – is just a tool in your hand.”
Aram looked down at his plate, at a loss for how to answer this assertion. As if suddenly recognizing his guest’s discomfort, Jame quickly sat up straight and said brightly, “Yes, well, my friends – your road has been long and difficult, and your fare undoubtedly less than even this simple meal. Let’s eat!”
In fact, Aram – happy that the subject of the evening’s conversation had at last turned away from him – considered the diversity of food set before them to be quite sumptuous indeed. Once again, he was struck by the rather startling difference between Lancer’s hall, which he had always considered stately if not luxurious, and this much more magnificent palace. Elam, he thought, based on the little he’d seen of it, must boast grandeur of a sort unequaled.
Looking up from his meal, Jame said, “Kipwing states that there is snow over all the north country.”
Aram returned his look with raised eyebrows, saying nothing.
“I impart this, Lord Aram, because I hoped you might stay a day or two – rest, and recover from your journeys. Winter still holds sway in all places that it should – there is no need for haste on your part. Also I wish to speak with you on the issue of your plans for the spring and how Lamont may help to further them.”
Very quietly, watching the young man’s face closely, Aram asked, “Am I to understand, Your Grace, that you intend to join with me in the campaigns of the Spring?”
“But of course. This was decided before you went east – there was only to convince Edwar. He is now convinced.” Jame searched his face. “I swore my fealty to you, my lord, and it was not lightly given. When you go to war, Lamont goes with you.”
Into Aram’s breast there came a sudden rise of intense emotion at this statement, which he barely concealed, and only with great effort. After a moment, gazing downward at his plate, he nodded. “Ka’en could use the rest, and if I could discuss my plans with you at some length, I would have the benefit of your counsel.”
The Hay flushed pleasantly at this. “Will you join me for breakfast, then? We could wander my garden and talk.”
“I will be here, Your Grace.”
After supper, as wine flowed, the men around the table regaled the young Hay of all that they’d seen and done in the east, while he, in his turn, sought to expand the scope of their tales with pointed and exacting questions. Watching him, Aram realized that his earlier comment of benefitting from the young man’s counsel, rather than being a kind gesture, had hit its mark squarely. He was wise beyond his years and intellectually clever, capable of getting to the germ of any subject at hand more quickly than anyone else in the room, even Wamlak.
The evening ended pleasantly, with Aram surprised at how much he had enjoyed an almost purely social event, usually so alien to his nature, and he found himself looking forward to his conversations with Jame on the morrow. As they went back down the hill through the warm, calm night, Ka’en looked up at him.
“You like him,” she said.
“I do,” he acknowledged.
“I’m glad.”
Aram had always found it difficult to air his thoughts aloud, even to trusted companions – Ka’en being the only exception – but something about the clever young Hay’s demeanor pierced his barriers and made him more open. As he and Jame walked the shaded paths of the garden the next morning after breakfast, Aram found himself explaining in detail how he intended to free the slave villages across the River Broad between Stell and Burning Mountain. After that, he meant to go further west, into the Land Beyond the Gates on the northern reaches of Elam and discover, by force if necessary, a means of breaking the alliance – if such it could be called – between that great land and the grim lord.
If he then could not win Elam’s alliance, he might perhaps, if his forces were strong enough, at least win that mighty land’s neutrality, denying Manon access to its people and its treasure. If in the course of events, Manon sent another army down from the north, Aram would then have room to maneuver – to choose the ground upon which to fight without having to worry about his back or his routes of supply.
Jame listened to all of this eagerly, silently rejoicing once again in the fact that this man of strength and pragmatism had come upon the earth at precisely the right moment. At length, when Aram finished talking and had stopped near one of the fountains, regarding Jame expectantly, the Hay smiled.
“If you expect me to make comment upon the wisdom of these proposed actions, my lord, I must disappoint you. My talents, such as they are, do not extend to the military arts – I am only reasonably adept at the art of judging people.” His smile disappeared. “Suffice it for me to say this. I approve of all your plans, and will do so this day in official writ. When you go west on the morrow, the strength of Lamont will follow you out.”
Aram raised his eyebrows. “Do you not need time to prepare, and then I can call upon you at need?”
Jame shook his head. “We have been preparing for this ever since you went into the east. My captains tell me that a half-year’s provisions for nearly six thousand men have been prepared for shipment to the west. The men have been told to wish their families farewell and to prepare to march upon your heels. Edwar tells me that Lamont’s army can be upon the western plains in twenty-to-thirty days.”
Aram was stunned. “So – when I go to war –”
“Lamont goes with you,” Jame finished for him. “I meant it truly when I expressed the fealty of my house and Lamont to your cause, my lord. Indeed, it is our cause, and the cause of all who would be free.”
“Some will die – and will not return.” Aram watched the Hay closely as he offered this grim, but by now familiar, statement.
“As I told Edwar, my lord, so I say now to you. Lamont cannot escape the coming war or the pain of death that comes with it. I would rather that we bleed on distant fields of your choosing than endure our families being slaughtered upon our own doorsteps.”
Aram shook his head slowly. “In the whole of the world, Your Grace, I have not met one as wise as you.”
Jame laughed brightly. “Then I expect that you have not been through the whole of the world, Lord Aram.” He bowed. “Nonetheless, thank you for the kind words.”
Looking up at the sky, Jame continued, “One thing more.”
“Yes?”
The Hay met Aram’s eyes. “Kipwing would like to go west with you.” He shrugged. “For one matter, he wants to see his grandfather, but there is another thing –”
Aram waited, watching him.
“It’s just that I could know what happens – I mean, the eagle would be a sure and certain courier of –”
“– news of what we are doing in the west,” Aram finished.
“Does this idea offend you, my lord?”
Aram laughed outright. “I think it a marvelous idea; I wish I had thought of it myself.”
The company left the next morning. They stayed one night in Willar’s house in Sunderland, much to the old man’s delight, before going over the mountains toward the west. Muray went with them, intending to stay with his parents until the army came up alongside his father’s farm, at which time he would join it and continue into the west as a captain – not of the wall now, but of the field.
Late in the evening, the horses clattered into Eoarl and Dunna’s yard. Dunna came running from the house, making for Ka’en with small, mincing steps, her arms flung wide. Just before reaching the taller woman, she hesitated, as if suddenly aware that she was about to take liberties with a princess. Ka’en, for her part, recognized the cause of Dunna’s hesitance and went toward her, finishing the older woman’s intention.
Dunna hugged Ka’en fiercely and then leaned back, looking up, her small black eyes sparkling. “Oh, my sweet girl! You have no idea how glad I am to see you returned!”
Aram gave her a mock scowl. “I told you I would bring her safely back.”
To his surprise, she repaid this statement with a tender smile. “And I am glad to see you safely back as well, my lord.”
Ka’en indicated the blue lamb’s wool cloak draped over her shoulders. “Your gift kept me warm through many a cold night, my lady.”
“Tut, tut. Now I won’t have a genuine princess calling me a lady.” She paused, peering upward. “You could call me Mem, if you like.”
Abruptly, Ka’en burst into silent tears, startling the older woman. Dunna clasped her hands across her breast in distress. “Oh, my girl, I didn’t mean to –”
Shaking her head, Ka’en embraced her. “I will – call you Mem, I mean.”
And then both women were crying.
Turning awkwardly away from this tender scene, Aram grasped Eoarl’s hand and asked. “Sir – would you and your lady be so kind as to put us up for the night?”
“We will do so gladly, my lord, and your friends the horses are welcome to my fields and my barns.”
As the women entered the house with their arms about one another, the men relieved the horses of their burdens. Durlrang, as before, had gone into the trees out on the ridge for the night – not out of necessity this time, but out of a desire for solitude. Durlrang had grown to love Aram, but the abodes of men yet unsettled him in his spirit.
Later, at supper, Muray questioned the members of the company about the amazing things that were rumored of their journey into the east, especially about the duel with the huge beast. Aram kept his attention focused resolutely on his meal as Wamlak related the details of that long, terrible afternoon. When he had finished, after a few moments of quiet astonishment, Eoarl turned to Aram.
“Was this beast like unto one of those that went through the land a few years ago?’
Aram thought about it for a moment, glad to have the company’s attention diverted. Then he nodded slightly. “It was similar, I suppose, though as Wamlak stated; it was much larger. And whereas lashers can speak with the tongues of men, this particular beast – though cunning – did not demonstrate intelligence. It was more savage than anything.”
“And the winged demons – was there any evidence that they were still about?”
Aram looked at the older man sharply. The question was asked casually, but there was an obvious undertone of concern in his voice. Aram knew that only he had seen the dragon child inside the cavern, and he’d mentioned it to no one but Ka’en and Thaniel, and they always kept his secrets faithfully.
He answered Eoarl’s question carefully. “We saw evidence of their activities of the past,” he said, thinking of the abandoned ships, “but we saw nothing of the creatures themselves.”
The farmer looked up. “It’s just that it is said that you have experienced them at another time – during other travels.”
Aram remembered the conversation by the fire, to which Edwar had been witness. But Edwar was a full day’s ride eastward – in Condon.
He frowned across at Eoarl. “How –?”
Dunna saw the frown that crossed his face and made a clucking sound. “Word that travels from mouth to mouth, Lord Aram, has wings more fleet than any bird.”
Eoarl glanced at her. “Actually, Muray heard it in the hall.”
Aram studied his face. “Why do you ask about the winged demons?”
“Because I don’t want my country left unprotected.”
Aram knotted his brow as he gazed at the old farmer. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand.”
“There’s another thing we should discuss, as well.” Eoarl stared down at the table for a long moment and then glanced around. “Is anyone ready for beer?”
“I thought you’d never get around to asking,” Mallet beamed. “I’m ready if nobody else is.”
Eoarl filled the mugs, setting one down before each man, waiting to refill Mallet’s while the big man drained his first portion in one gulp, and then he sat down and looked across at Aram.
“It seems to me, Lord Aram – and to the council, I might add – that the world is more dangerous than Lamont had heretofore believed.” He glanced at his son. “It also seems that our remarkable young Hay has found his tongue at this most critical juncture, and that he is sending us to war.”
Aram watched him and waited.
Eoarl sighed. “Believe or not, as you will, but I wish I was going with the army as it marches west. But there is one thing –”
Here, the old farmer paused to tip up his mug. After a moment, when he remaine
d silent, Aram said, “Sir?”
Eoarl looked up at him. “There are those who think that the Hay is acting rashly. And many of those men are highly placed – both in the government, and in the army.”
Aram spoke quietly. “What do you think?”
Eoarl glanced at his son again. “I am not as isolated as it might appear, Lord Aram. I often have opportunity to talk with traders from the west and with sailors at the docks in Sunderland when I am there. Also, Muray was honored with several conversations with the Hay, the content of which he was faithful enough to send along to his ken in sealed letters. So, you see, my lord; I know much more about you than once was true.”
Spying Mallet gazing gloomily into the depths of his mug, the farmer rose and serviced the mugs around the table once again before returning to his own. Tipping it up and then wiping his mouth, he looked back at Aram.
“I know, for example that you slew the giant privateer – Burkhed – in single combat. That act alone would make you a worthy leader of men. But there are other things said of you, astonishing things, and –” His eyes went to the hilt of the sword rising above Aram’s right shoulder. “It is said that you wield a weapon of the gods.”
Aram raised his eyebrows slightly but returned no answer.
After a long moment, Eoarl continued. “I am in favor of going to war, and I am convinced that you are the man to stand at the head of Lamont’s strength. The Hay is convinced, as is Edwar – and my own son here.” He tipped up his mug again, frowning into its depths for a long moment, as if seeking advice from the pungent spirit within. “But there are some who will not so readily follow you, my lord, nor willingly accept your command of our forces.”
His gaze strayed back to the sword. “I guess what I’m saying is – there are some that will require a demonstration, something they see with their own eyes, so that they don’t have to take another’s word on it.”
Finally, Aram understood him. “Will the men of Lamont do as their Hay bids, and as Edwar commands?”
Eoarl nodded. “Oh, yes; they’re a well-trained lot. And they do love their Hay, more so now that he is more – approachable. Most people think that he is touched – but in a good way, mind you.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 51