by Andre Norton
“You must put on a brave, fine show, and well you know it. Your ladies, your House Troops, Gaurin NordornKing’s House Troops, servants to handle the wagons and baggage—yes, it will be a sizable entourage. But think, my lady. How long has it been since you and the NordornKing have gone out and seen your people, and even more important, let them see you?”
It was a fair question. Ashen pondered several minutes. “Years, I think. We have not ventured far from the city walls since we returned from our encounter with the Mother Ice Dragon. We were both sorely hurt, and lay abed for quite a while. And then, it seemed that the people were content to come to us, to glimpse us from the streets of Cyornasberg and we grew content to have it so.”
“Well, now unrest has sprung up from somewhere—and never mind what I think of the source—”
“Now, Ayfare, Madame Ysa is out at sea, searching for Mikkel. Unless she took messenger birds with her I’m sure she could have had nothing to do with the present uneasiness among the people.”
“Be that as it may, unrest exists and no one can put all to rights but you and Gaurin NordornKing. And both of you will need special care, such as your ladies and his gentlemen cannot provide. So we are going with you and there’s an end to it.”
Ashen smiled, happy in spite of her protestations, for Ayfare’s loving bullying. “Then let us pack fine garments to show us off to our best advantage.”
“Already being done,” Ayfare returned, smiling as well. “You need to select gifts for Princess Elin. Iselin will be your first major destination.”
“And then on to Åskar, the center of the unrest. I am a little uneasy about taking all the House Troops. Don’t you think it looks too, well, aggressive?”
“Eighteen armed men to guard the NordornKing and NordornQueen and to see to the safety of their servants and belongings, not to mention protecting the King’s Penny? There are those who would say they are not nearly enough. I daresay Count Baldrian will be glad of their presence. Gossip has it that he is guarding Åskar and, through it, both Rendel and the Nordorn-Land though he has only a handful of soldiers.”
“I wonder what Rohan and Tordenskjold have found by now.”
“Well, if these things go as they usually do, one or the other of them will have found Prince Mikkel and are bringing him back home, and they will arrive just as you and the NordornKing are halfway to Åskar.”
At that, Ashen laughed aloud. “I hope your predictions are correct! That will give Bjaudin NordornPrince something to keep him occupied, mending young Mikkel’s manners after such a long sojourn with untamed Wykenigs. We will keep messengers busy, going back and forth, while we are gone. I wouldn’t want to miss this news for any reason.”
“And you say you are my uncle?” asked the red-bearded man, for what Zazar thought must surely be the dozenth time.
“In a manner of speaking,” Rohan replied patiently. “I am the foster son of your mother, Ashen NordornQueen and but a few years younger than she. I have functioned as uncle to all of her children, you included.”
“My mother is a queen. That would make my father a king.”
“Gaurin NordornKing. Both your parents have been sick with worry over you, since you were taken captive by Holger den Forferdelig.”
Mikkel shook his head, clearly not understanding. “But Holger is my father, though we have a blood quarrel between us.”
“Let me speak,” said the Duchess Ysa. “Grandson, it is clear to me that you are bespelled. Until we find a way to lift this cloud from your mind, we must ask that you believe what we tell you, for it is the truth and also it is for your long term benefit.”
Petra, standing behind Mikkel’s chair, put her hand on his shoulder. “I think this lady, and the other one as well, speak the truth as they know it.”
He turned and looked up at her. “And do you also think I am bespelled?”
“I have thought it for a long time, ever since you came to live with me in the City ’Neath the Waves.”
Zazar noticed Ysa flinching visibly at this; it was obvious to the old Wysen-wyf that the Duchess was having trouble with the idea that the Princess of the Rock-Maidens loved Mikkel in the way that a woman loves a man and, furthermore, that he returned it. For all his grown-up appearance, however, Zazar could tell that emotionally he was still a child, and could not yet understand what it meant when a man and woman loved each other.
“Then you do advise me to believe my . . . my uncle and my granddam and—Who did you say you were?”
“Zazar,” she replied a little snappishly. “Also your granddam because I reared your mother from the moment she was born.”
“Granddam Ysa. Granddam Zazar. And Uncle Rohan?” Mikkel said, a little hesitantly.
“That is correct,” answered the Sea-Rover. “And we have come to take you back to your NordornLand home, if you will go.”
“I confess I am intrigued by your stories,” Mikkel said. He turned to Petra again. “Would you want to go as well?”
“I will follow you.”
Rock-Maidens, the crew and warriors of the snow-white ship, crowded at the door, intent on finding out what their Princess and the human man she had brought to live in their city were going to do. They murmured among themselves at the declaration that she was willing to go with him to the unknown lands whence he came, but Zazar could detect only curiosity, not protest.
“Admiral-General Tordenskjold—do you remember him?—even now searches for Holger den Forferdelig,” Rohan said. “There is some score to settle for he was most insolent when we first encountered him. Therefore, we can be reasonably confident that he will not fall upon our ships without warning, while we sail south.”
“May I suggest that you take the crystal casket that holds Askepott aboard Spume Maiden, and carry it back with us?” Ysa asked.
“Of course, it will be done, for it is unthinkable that it be left behind, at the mercy of wind and water. I think I might need the services of Princess Petra to help us remove it from its plinth.”
“Oh, any of us can do that,” Petra replied with a careless shrug. “Hild, please come forward. To you I give the task of overseeing this delicate project.” She turned to Rohan. “She is my body-sib and ruled the city in my absence.”
“ ‘Body-sib.’ What does that mean?”
“It means that she was formed as I was, from the body of a Rock-Maiden who had been captured and ravished by a Rock-Man. She was Princess of the Rock-Maidens, even as I am. I emerged from the rubble of her corpse first and so inherited her title.”
“I see,” Rohan said, clearly not seeing at all.
One of the Rock-Maidens squeezed past the crowd and through the door into the cabin. She bowed. “I accept the task gladly, my Princess.”
“And I will assign six men to assist her,” Rohan said. He turned to the Rock-Maiden Princess. “I would suggest that you join the Duchess and Granddam Zazar on Spume Maiden rather than remain on the white ship.”
“Snow Gem,” Mikkel said. “Why do you want to separate us? “It is only for a short time,” Rohan said. “I will stay on board Snow Gem.”
“I see what Rohan Sea-Rover is about,” Petra said, smiling. The light glinted off the planes of her face. “We make an exchange, me for him. He wants to make sure that we do not decide to sail away into a fog bank and lose him in the trackless ocean. Nor can the women search for us with the Ritual of Seeing, now that Gunnora claims to be aware of every time the ritual is invoked.”
Rohan smiled in return. “Also, perhaps I could even show my nephew a few tricks when it comes to managing the vessel.”
For the first time Mikkel’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “That would be wonderful! The ship fairly sails herself, but I admit there is a lot I do not know about maneuvering.”
“It is settled, then,” Ysa declared. “Please have Askepott’s crystal casket placed in my cabin, Rohan. I wish to study and think on how to release her from the spell she is currently under.”
“That may
come before we release Mikkel from his spell, if it can be done,” Zazar commented. “Both enchantments were laid by a sorceress whose Power we do not yet know, except that she is exceptionally strong. However, I will lend such help as I may in both endeavors.”
“So let it be done,” Petra declared. “I will go now to the Sea-Rover vessel. When Hild has brought Askepott from the shore, both ships will set their sails and their course southward. There, in a strange country among strange people, Ridder Rødskjegg, we will be together once more.”
She reached out and touched Mikkel’s cheek. Zazar had the feeling that if they had been alone, she would have kissed him.
Mikkel didn’t seem to notice. He appeared more interested in the prospect of learning more about how to sail his ship. That, and in being around a man who wasn’t trying to kill him.
“Do you know the game of Hnefa-Tafl, Uncle?” he asked. “We played it often in Holger’s steading. I have made a board but none of the Rock-Maidens care to learn. Perhaps we could have a game or two on our way to Cyornas Fjord.”
Ysa, Zazar, and Petra watched from the deck of Spume Maiden while Hild and the Sea-Rovers rigged a woven rope sling and used pulleys to haul the crystal casket aboard. It seemed curiously light. Then, with it still swathed in ropes, they carried it to the cabin customarily occupied by Rohan and lashed it down securely lest it shift during the voyage and come to grief. When all was secure, the Rock-Maiden Hild returned to Snow Gem.
“I confess, my heart was in my throat during the transfer,” Ysa declared. “These men can be so rough.”
“Hild made sure they could handle their burden well enough,” Petra said. “However, even if they had been clumsy, the crystal is tough enough to survive all but a deliberate attack with a hammer or maul.”
Zazar gazed at the occupant of the casket. She lay on her transparent bed as softly as if on the finest snow-thistle silk mattress. Sparks still glittered inside the crystal from time to time, like so many fireflies that had been trapped within. Far from the pallor of death, her face was of good color. Truly, she looked as if she were merely sleeping and would waken at a word or a touch on her shoulder.
“They will be raising the anchor soon,” Ysa said. “I will go out on deck for the fresh air until we get well and truly under way, for I do not expect to do so very often on our voyage. I have much thinking and meditating to do and watching the horizon rise and fall can affect my digestion. This is not conducive to clear thinking.” She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. “Zazar, I suggest that you do the same, unless you are untroubled by the motion of the ship.”
“If Askepott were—well, I started to say alive—I daresay she would join you. But I will stay where I am,” Zazar replied. “I have thinking of my own to do.”
“And a good portion of that thinking is about me,” Petra said, once the cabin door had closed behind the Duchess.
“Indeed, it is.”
“It doesn’t take any extraordinary effort to understand. It is part of why I am here, on this ship, rather than on Snow Gem. Well, make the most of your opportunity. What do you wish to know of me?”
“First, how did Holger den Forferdelig come to take you prisoner? And how did he keep you in such a state?”
Petra shrugged. “I was careless and not properly wary, and fell into a trap intended to catch an animal for Holger’s table. I have learned better since. As for how he kept me prisoner, it was the iron. My people cannot endure the touch of cold iron and all the captives in Holger’s steading wore iron torques. Iron burns us, makes us weak, and takes away many of our powers unless we drink a special potion made from a very rare plant, and I had none with me. I had to wrap my torque in a scrap of cloth to keep it from burning me. When Mikkel removed it, it was as if I had awakened from a long and none too pleasant sleep. Mikkel did not seem to be similarly affected; he was under a different bespelling.”
“You spoke of a special elixir. Is that how you are enduring the iron around you on this ship?”
“It is.” The Rock-Maiden held up her arm. Dangling from one of her bracelets was a tiny stone flask. “This is all I have until I can find the special plant and make more.”
“I have some skill in herb lore. Let me have but a drop of it, and I will try to duplicate it for you.”
“You are very kind. If you can do this, you will put me in your debt.”
“You do not seem overly concerned that Mikkel will remember all his past and return to live in the place where he was born.”
“No, Madame, I am not. I think his memory is locked away so securely that even your Duchess with all her books and all her spells cannot retrieve it.”
“When you set sail, you had no intention of actually allowing Mikkel’s ship within ten leagues of Holger’s vessel, did you.” It was not a question.
Petra laughed and stretched, rubbing her smooth arms. “Of course not! Snow Gem is a tiny ship, smaller even than the least of Holger’s fleet. Red Fox might be able to stand off the Marmel, but he would not last an hourglass turning if he should encounter Holger and Dragon Blood!”
“Perhaps Mikkel’s fate is tied to Gunnora’s, and if she dies so will he. I do not know how to predict this.”
“Perhaps. I do not know.”
“I knew that his future was clouded well before he ran away on his harebrained adventure. So did the Wave Reader Jens on the ill-fated GorGull, and he told him so. I will do a Ritual of Asking once we arrive at our destination.”
“I have heard of such.”
“It is one of our few ways of scrying the future, and of interpreting the present.”
“I have seen that you are a holder of Power, even as I hold some Power of my own. So was—so is Askepott.”
“I could wish that Askepott were able to add her store to the mix. Among us, surely we could fathom a way to thwart the Sorceress’s daughter, Gunnora, and to restore Mikkel to his rightful place in life. Even if it turns out not to be in the NordornLand but with you.”
Petra shrugged. “Which would be my preference, as you know. Well, all is not yet beyond reckoning or repair. Askepott is not irretrievably lost. I filled the casket with a special kind of air my people use to preserve those who are not yet dead. Askepott will lie safely until we find a way to bring her back from the edge of the Void.”
“This has been a very enlightening discussion, Princess. I believe that the Duchess Ysa need not know all of what we have been talking of,” Zazar said thoughtfully. “I think you know more than you are telling about Mikkel, and I suspect you will tell me nothing more until we have consulted my kettle and possibly not then. Let Ysa concentrate on releasing Askepott from the spell that has almost killed her and let me work on the problem of my grandson’s bespelling.”
“You mean to withhold information from her?”
“ ‘Postpone informing’ her is more accurate. Let me give you some good advice. You have not been entirely open with me, but you have not lied, either. You are skilled in the art of saying one thing and concealing another, but Ysa is even more so. It is no mean feat to outmaneuver Ysa. If she gets the least inkling that you have done so, you can be sure that she will become a smiling enemy.”
“Thank you for the warning. I will be doubly careful in my dealings with her.”
“She is sincere in one thing, though, and that is her desire to release Askepott from her slumber.”
“I believe Askepott will sleep long before that riddle is solved.” Petra gazed at the crystal casket, beautiful even though swathed in ropes. “Perhaps both you and the Duchess will live to see her with us once more.”
“Hark. She returns.”
The lady in question entered the cabin and pulled the door closed behind her. “The breeze is freshening, which is the same as saying it’s enough to freeze an ordinary person out on deck. The lights in the sky are brilliant but not enough that I want to stay out there and look at them. I have sent for hot food and drink—you do eat and drink, Petra? Good. I have a few ideas re
garding Askepott that I would like to discuss with you both.”
“We stand ready to profit by your wisdom and learning,” the Rock-Maiden responded demurely.
Zazar snorted, and managed to turn it into a fit of coughing. “By all means,” she said, when she could speak, “let us pool our knowledge, such as it is. It may yield no results before we can get to Cyornas Castle and your books, but it may give us a general direction in which to go.”
“I think that this time Esander will not grudge me the loan of the books. Not grudge it at all.”
Twenty-three
Count Tordenskjold of Grynet, Admiral-General of the NordornLand’s growing fleet, was never happier than when at sea. That he was in command of the finest, newest ship in the fleet, and furthermore in pursuit of an enemy who was unaware he was being tracked, sweetened his mood to the point that he was actually amiable when a sailor let a line slip.
“Sorry, sir,” the man said, cringing a little.
Tordenskjold could tell he was expecting of one of the Admiral-General’s famous explosions of temper at the slightest mishap. But he was feeling far too content for that.
“Give it a turn around that cleat, boy,” Tordenskjold told him. “That’ll secure it.”
“Aye, Admiral-General.” The sailor quickly did as he was told and vanished, perhaps in anticipation of Tordenskjold’s good temper evaporating like morning fog.
Fog. Tordenskjold scanned the horizon. No sign of sail, yet. There was definitely a bank of fog lying a league or so distant. Holger, if he were out there, could not see him, but contrariwise, neither could he see Holger. Furthermore, in such a fog, a ship would be vulnerable to running up against floating ice. No captain worth the salt spray that rimed his beard would risk that. Therefore, he would remain out in the open, every man on full alert, and ready to rush into action at a moment’s notice.
Do not attack at once, he told himself, mindful of the instructions given him by Gaurin NordornKing. Prince Mikkel’s whereabouts may have been discovered, but Holger still might have information that would be useful. No sense in sending him down to the Sea-terror Draig’s lair before learning all that he knew.