The Knight of the Red Beard-The Cycle of Oak, Yew, Ash and Rowan 5

by Andre Norton

  “And what would you have me do, Madame?”

  “I—I don’t know!” Abruptly, she stepped into that strange kind of time where everything seemed to move slowly, if at all. “Let his fate be that of the NordornKing!” Her words were drawn out and hollow-sounding, as if coming from a distance.

  I have done this before, she thought, when Gaurin was under attack. I will do it again, though tardy. She raised her arms and grasped in both hands the ball of pure Power waiting for her. With all her strength she hurled it at the gangling youth who had brought down her husband. Time abruptly snapped back to its accustomed pace again.

  Those standing nearby scattered, terrified, as the ball thundered toward Omer and engulfed him. He staggered back and fell to the ground, his clothing smoldering.

  “Now, my lord Royance,” Ashen said with unnatural calm, “you may take him and do as you will.”

  Then the world went black and the last thing she remembered was slipping from her saddle.

  Twenty-five

  Fog enveloped Ice Princess, so thick that Tordenskjold couldn’t see the bow from his station on the stern.

  “I think we’ve given them the slip,” Sigurd told him.

  The Admiral-General scowled. “I don’t like having to run,” he said, not for the first time.

  “Nor I, sir, but I’d hate even more nudging elbows with the Sea-terror Draig.”

  “We should make for home,” Tordenskjold said gloomily. “I see nothing to be gained by sailing hither and yon, just waiting to be set upon by a Wykenig fleet. Inform Jens to get that drum of his going and roil the waters for anybody who thinks about chasing us.”

  “Aye, Admiral-General.”

  “Maybe,” Tordenskjold said, brightening a trifle, “Nordorn-Queen’s Own will be completed by the time we get back. With another like Ice Princess we could take on Holger den Forferdelig and his friends, too. If he has any.”

  The sea had turned choppy, though no storm lay on the horizon. On the deck of Spume Maiden, Zazar suddenly sat bolt upright from where she had been dozing in the fitful sunlight. “Ysa!”

  “She is not here,” Petra said. “I think she is sick and lying abed in the Sea-Rover Captain’s cabin. Shall I go with you to find her?”

  “Suit yourself.” Zazar, followed by the Rock-Maiden Princess, hurried aft and opened the door. Ysa was lying down, a damp cloth on her forehead.

  “What is it?” the Duchess said, obviously irritated. “I am ill.”

  “Get the water from the ewers.”

  “Water?”

  “Water. Surely you remember the word. The ewers are in the cabinet. Get them, and the basin.”

  “But we used the basin twice, and it took almost all of what we brought—”

  Petra laughed. “And while the men were loading the crystal casket on the longboat, my body-sib, Hild, filled them again.”

  Zazar glanced at Petra. Who knew she had been so foresighted, she thought approvingly. “Get the water. There is that I must see.”

  “I am too ill to be disturbed for this,” Ysa said, but nonetheless she opened the cabinet and got down the silver vessels. Then she set up the basin on the table. “What is so important?”

  “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”

  Weyse appeared out of nowhere, as was her wont. Zazar picked up the unearthly little creature, who clung to her neck while Ysa began the Ritual of Seeing.

  “Who do you wish to see?”

  “Ashen first. Then Gaurin.”

  The image formed quickly. Ashen NordornQueen lay in a litter. It was being carried somewhere, but Zazar could not determine where.

  “Can you make the view larger?” Petra asked, interested.

  “I will try.”

  “Gaurin,” Zazar breathed. As his image appeared, Weyse whimpered a little.

  The NordornKing likewise lay in a moving litter. A bandage, stained with blood, was wrapped around his head. Just within the range of the vision Zazar could see Earl Royance, his face like a thundercloud. A Trooper rode by his side, and a host of others, too blurry to make out their identities, followed.

  “So those are the famous Maimed Majesties,” Petra murmured.

  “And badly hurt,” Zazar told her. “Oh, let them speak,” she whispered to the basin.

  As if he could hear her, the warrior asked Royance, “How long until we reach Cyornasberg? Remember, it has been a long time since I have been in the NordornLand, and I have no clear grasp of how far Åskar Manor is from the city.”

  “We should be there tomorrow,” Royance replied. “We must pause at Iselin to let Princess Elin know how gravely matters stand with her parents. Then we will depart and she will follow after. I have sent Nikolos ahead, bearing the news.”

  “If only I had been quicker—”

  “Do not reproach yourself, Cebastian. You were not to blame for the wild tales that inflamed the people of Åskar.”

  Ysa started, jostling the basin, and the image winked out. She muttered something under her breath and then, aloud, “A movement of the ship. But how? What has happened?”

  Zazar stared at the Duchess keenly. “Is this the result of some of your scheming? I think you know more than you are telling,” she said.

  “As do I,” Petra said. “The ship made no untoward move.”

  “Well, there’s no time to pry it out of you just now,” Zazar declared. “It’s plain to see that both Ashen and Gaurin are in a bad way, perhaps at the very doorstep of death. We must make all haste to arrive at Cyornas Castle before them so that we may prepare the way for their arrival there. Perhaps there is something we can do, and perhaps not. But I, at any rate, shall try.”

  With that, Zazar went back on deck and sought out Finrod Felagund. Young Obern was nowhere in sight; Rohan, though allowing him to sail, had reduced him in rank to little better than a common sailor, apprentice to the third mate, Gand.

  “We must make all haste back to Cyornasberg,” she told the acting captain. “Leave the white ship in your wake if you must, but put up every rag of sail you can find, even your pocket handkerchiefs. There is need.”

  As the Chieftain’s granddam, Zazar’s authority carried considerable weight with the Sea-Rovers.

  “Aye, Madame Zazar,” Finrod said, saluting. He then turned and began shouting orders.

  As sails snapped up, the ship began to leap forward in the water. Let Ysa be sick as she may, Zazar thought, clutching Weyse more closely, if only I can get back home in time to forestall what I read on their pale countenances. If only.

  On Snow Gem, Rohan noticed at once the raising of Spume Maiden’s sails. Something has happened, he thought, to make a swift return necessary. Fortunately, we are not far from Cyornas Fjord.

  He turned to Hild. “Raise sails likewise,” he told her. “We cannot keep up with her, I fear, but let us not lag far behind.”

  “You’ll see how Snow Gem can fly through the water,” Hild replied.

  And truly, the small ship was exceptionally neat, cutting through the chop as if it scarcely existed. Nevertheless, Spume Maiden was but a smudge on the horizon by the time she lowered sails once more and prepared to enter the fjord.

  By the time the white ship came into view of the castle and the ice-river Spume Maiden had reached the freight dock, some distance farther up the fjord than the buoys where ships customarily tied up.

  Hild looked at Rohan, a question in her eyes.

  “I daresay Finrod Felagund wants to get the crystal casket off the ship first. Then they must carry it up the cliff to the castle.”

  “The Rock-Maidens can do that,” Hild said.

  “Then I will make for the freight dock as well.”

  The freight dock, now completed, had been built to accommodate the unloading of trade goods. Like the buoys, it was not rooted in a firm anchorage, but was a kind of raft instead. The dock, however, had the advantage of being lashed to stanchions hammered into the rock. There was some talk, Rohan recalled vaguely, of expanding the dock so
it could be used for unloading passengers as well as trade goods.

  Mikkel had come up behind him. “I thought we were going to visit the castle!” he said fretfully.

  “In a while,” Rohan assured him.

  “I want to go there now!”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “No, now.”

  “If you are patient, you can go with Petra. Would you like that?”

  “Petra! My friend! I love Petra. Where is she?”

  “On Spume Maiden. She will be with you as soon as she can.”

  Mikkel was getting worse, Rohan thought. His speech and behavior was now that of a very young child. He had a feeling that if Mikkel stayed long in Cyornas Castle, he might well revert even to infancy. He resolved to consult with Petra. Alien the Rock-Maiden might be, but she had proven helpful in many ways, and she was undeniably fond of Mikkel. When she saw with her own eyes what was happening to him, she would quickly find a way to remedy it. Or, at least, to try.

  Zazar waited at the wharf to speak to Rohan as soon as he had disembarked.

  “Something has happened,” she told him. “We don’t know just what yet, but I don’t think it’s good.”

  Quickly, she filled him in on what the silver bowl had showed them. “Ysa has gone ahead to the castle to notify Einaar and Bjaudin and the other nobles so they can make all ready not only for Askepott’s casket but also for when Ashen and Gaurin arrive. I wanted to stay behind and speak to you.”

  Likewise, he told her of what he had observed in Mikkel’s behavior. “I think he should leave Cyornas Fjord at once, without waiting for Ashen and Gaurin. They will all be disappointed, but I feel he may take permanent harm—besides what he has already suffered—by his presence here.”

  Zazar scowled, thinking. “I believe you are right. We must notify Petra.”

  “When we have done that, what can I do, other than wait?”

  For answer, Zazar pinched him, hard. “You may yet have a more active role to play, Rohan. Do not be so impatient. Now, send Petra to me.”

  “Yes, Granddam,” Rohan said, rubbing his arm.

  Presently, the Rock-Maiden Princess joined Zazar at the wharf-side. She agreed at once that Mikkel should leave the area as soon as possible. “I have seen him. We do not know the full effects of that horrid spell Gunnora put him under but it will do no one good if he stays. I will take him back to the City ’Neath the Waves.”

  “Rohan said he wanted to see the castle.”

  “Small boys, I am told, like that sort of thing. Leave it to me, Madame Zazar. Come up to the castle and show my women where to place the casket. They must move quickly, as they do not possess any of the elixir.”

  “It’s not going indoors so they don’t have to worry about wrestling it up the stairs to my tower room. I want it put where Askepott is looking north. She should like that, when she wakes up.”

  Petra smiled. The planes of her face glinted in the wan light. “Indeed she would like that, if she knew. You are a good woman, Madame Zazar, though you might not like my saying so.”

  “No, I don’t,” Zazar told her snappishly. Then she softened a trifle. “Look you. We can still communicate by means of the silver bowl. I think I know how to use it even without Ysa’s help and she doesn’t need to know everything we might discuss.”

  “Such as?”

  “It may be possible, later, if all goes well, that Mikkel may yet be with his parents if we meet, say, at the waterfall. If all goes well.”

  “There is water running down your face,” Petra said.

  “That is neither here nor there,” Zazar said, dashing away the tears. “It’s just that I might—There might be need for your skills with stone-working later.”

  “I am at your command.”

  “Thank you.”

  Petra removed the bracelet from which dangled the small bottle containing the scant remains of the important elixir, and handed it to Zazar. She then went to join her people and led the Rock-Maidens as they guided, rather than carried, the crystal casket up the slope from the wharf and through the castle gate. By the time they arrived, a sizable crowd had gathered, including Bjaudin, Einaar, and as many nobles as were currently in the city. As they watched, the Rock-Maidens created a platform for the casket containing Askepott at one end of the ward, close by the barbican gate, and placed it thereon. Then they all returned to their beautiful little white ship.

  Presently, a sobbing wail as from a frustrated child echoed from the fjord walls as the Snow Gem raised sail and began its journey back whence it came.

  Gaurin’s chair at the Council table stood empty. Bjaudin Nordorn-Prince occupied the chair to the right of his father’s and Duke Einaar sat on the other side. The carving on the NordornKing’s chair caught the light, a fine representation of Gaurin’s coat of arms, the silver snowcat, chained and wearing a silver collar, on a green ground surrounded by his motto, Serve I all. At the opposite end of the table, Ashen’s empty chair was likewise decorated with her arms, a blue vessel on a white ground, with flames rising from it. A border proclaimed the canting pun of her family motto—Without flame, there can be no Ash—and a pendant beneath the lozenge-shaped shield bore the ancient Ash motto, Loyalty ever binds me. Both of the monarchs’ cognizances were surmounted by crowned royal helms and their mantling, in the dominant colors of their shields, was lined with ermine.

  “Lord Royance’s King-at-Arms, Nikolos, has arrived at Cyornas Castle,” Bjaudin told those at the table. “Bid him come in and tell us all.”

  Nikolos, followed by Zazar and the Duchess Ysa, entered the Council Chamber, ushered in by Rols, acting as Seneschal in Nalren’s absence. Nikolos laid Gaurin’s treasured Rinbell sword on the table. No other gesture could better describe the gravity of the circumstances. In concise, terse terms Nikolos described what had befallen the NordornKing and NordornQueen. “My master Royance bade me inform you so that healers may make ready for them.”

  “All that can be done will be done,” Bjaudin said. His hands shook, though his voice was firm enough.

  “I did inform Count Svarteper, Lord High Marshal, as I entered Cyornas Castle. Even now he is riding out to provide additional escort for . . .”

  For the fallen monarchs, Zazar supplied silently.

  Duke Einaar spoke up. “And you, Madame Zazar and Your Grace. Did you know aught of this?”

  “We did,” Ysa replied. “Had not Royance’s herald been so swift, we would have told you. Now we can only say, to our sorrow, that we know the story to be true.”

  “And were you there?” Count Mjødulf inquired.

  “No,” Zazar answered. “But we saw it right enough, in the pictures conjured by the silver basin you yourself have observed.”

  The others at the table—Baron Håkon, Baron Arngrim and Count Mjødulf—exchanged stunned glances. Tordenskjold was on his way. Gangerolf, of course, was absent and Baldrian might or might not be with those accompanying the King and Queen. He might just as likely have remained at Åskar in case civil unrest arose again.

  Bjaudin slammed his hand down on the polished table. “I am heartily sick of Gangerolf and his infernal tardiness!” he cried. “Someone, go and drag him in here, by the ears if necessary. If he’s to be one of the nobility, let him act like it or suffer removal of his title and privileges.”

  “At once, Your Highness,” Rols said. He left the room.

  “Well then, my good sirs and ladies,” Einaar said in the echoing silence, “there is nothing left for us to do save wait our Sovereigns’ return. And Gangerolf’s arrival.”

  A little bitter laughter greeted those words; apparently Bjaudin’s outburst had echoed the others’ opinions.

  “I am going to consult with our Court physician Birger,” Zazar said. “Not until the King and Queen arrive will we have an idea how to treat their wounds.”

  “If then,” Einaar said grimly. “Now I do regret me of my complaisance in that scheme of Gaurin’s to go out among the people. Not without a much la
rger armed guard than he had.”

  “But that would have put all his efforts to naught,” Mjødulf commented. “His was a peaceful mission.”

  “Aye, and see what it got him.”

  “Gentlemen, we must not argue,” said Bjaudin. “Instead, we must seek counsel and wisdom where we might find it, for it is certain that the King and Queen—my father and mother—are in grave straits. For me, I will go to the Fane and talk with Esander the Good.” He arose to his feet. “Then I will consult with Duke Einaar.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the others at the table said, as they likewise stood up.

  Only Ysa had remained silent. Again, Zazar wondered what was going through the Duchess’s mind. She suspected she knew, but had no proof. Well, sooner or later I’ll have the story out of her—and then we’ll see, the Wysen-wyf thought.

  Twenty-six

  With tender care, Gaurin’s attendants laid him on his bed and, with equal tenderness, put Ashen on another bed, in the room outside the royal bedchamber.

  Physician Birger unwrapped the bandage around Gaurin’s head and examined the wound. “Not good,” he murmured to Zazar, who hovered close by his side. “See? There is a depression there, just behind the right ear. I fear the skull is broken and pressing on the brain, which is why he does not regain consciousness.” He began replacing the bandage with a fresh one.

  “Is there nothing you can do?”

  “I have not the skill nor the courage to open the skull and try to relieve the pressure. I might kill him instead. Not that I think he has much chance anyway. Wounds like this—”

  “What about Ashen?”

  Birger straightened up, dipped his hands in a basin of scented water, and dried them on a towel. “The NordornQueen’s malady is from a different cause entirely. I do not know what is causing it and I cannot rouse her, even by burning feathers under her nose. Thus, I will have to rely on you, Madame Zazar, if you will undertake to discern the reason for her continued faint.”