He reached out to it, but another hand forestalled him. The Mastersmith swept up the mold, and the clay crumbled to dust under his long hard fingers as he looked it over. Alv watched him breathlessly, wondering how he had known to appear just at the right moment. The dark eyes gleamed as they read the pattern, reflecting the gleams of gold and firelight with a strange added luster. He gazed at it long and silently, as if seeking to unravel some puzzle.
At last he nodded, and handed the armring to Alv, still dull and encrusted with powdery clay. "I was not mistaken in you, boy. The piece is fine, it has a true power in it—more than a virtue, a power. Do you clean and burnish it now. Bring it to me tonight, and we shall consider what may be your next piece."
But it was that night, as dusk was falling, that the riders arrived. It was Alv who saw them first, cantering down the steep valley floor from the north; he was sitting on the high outer windowsill of his small bedroom, as he often did, gazing on the last of the sunset and seeing it strike fire from the new-polished ring. At first he was mildly intrigued, no more; such cloaked and hooded visitors were not uncommon. Seldom, though, on such a beautiful white mare as the first one rode; the other was a nondescript black, but both picked their way among the uneven stones with amazing sureness and grace. Then the leader reined in sharply at sight of the tower, and Alv sat up so suddenly he almost tumbled off the ledge. The dark hood was swept back, and a swath of long hair spilled out, tinged white-gold by the failing sun. The voice that hailed the tower rang between the cold cliffs high and clear as a hammer-stroke. Then the woman spurred her horse down the last of the slope toward the gate, and Alv hurled himself back inside and onto the spiral stair, shouting for Ingar and Roc. He went leaping down the steps two at a time and out into the great bare hall. Ingar came running up the steps from the library, and Roc out of the kitchen, struggling to ask excited questions with his mouth stuffed full.
"Gate—" panted Alv. "Riders coming—she…"
"She?" said Ingar and whistled. He turned to the kitchen and yelled "Ernan! The gate, and be polite about it! Roc, stop your stuffing and go tell Himself, he's deep in some book down there. And then go fetch my best robe—no, wait." He looked narrowly at Alv. "This woman… Tall? And blond-haired, very blond—almost white?"
Alv nodded breathlessly, but Ingar's face fell. "Louhi!" He shook his head. "Forget the robe, Roc. Now just what on earth could be bringing her here now?"
"Old friend of yours, this Louhi?" inquired Alv archly, doing his best to look dignified again.
Ingar's mouth twisted, but before he could answer there was a clatter of feet on the library steps. They both stared in astonishment as the Mastersmith came running out but as Alv had never seen him, with robes and hair awry and a wild look in his dark eyes. He came striding over and grabbed Alv by the shoulders. "You're sure? You saw her?"
"Y-yes, Mastersmith! Clearly, and she called out! Riding from the north—"
As if to confirm his words came a single stroke on the great bronze bell at the gate, and the Mastersmith's fingers bit deep into Alv's arms. Then he let go, with a murmur of apology, and turned away to adjust his tunic and robe, and smooth down his hair. From outside came the soft rumble of the stone gate opening, and the clatter of hooves on the polished granite. The Mastersmith waved the others back against the wall, squared his shoulders, strode to the hall doors and flung them wide.
The great horse halted just beyond them, gleaming in the dusk. In a flurry and rustle of fabric its rider swung herself easily down, and tossed the reins to an apprehensive-looking Ernan. "Look to him well!" she called, and stepped forward into the warm light of the hall, extending a gloved hand to the Mastersmith. He bowed, took it and touched it lightly to his forehead and lips. Alv had never seen his master so deferential, but he felt no wonder in him at that. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Tall and slender she stood, as tall as the Mastersmith or taller, and held her head high and proud. Her pale, fine hair was gathered tight back on her head, but fell in smooth straight cascades around her shoulders. Her high forehead and fine-chiseled features were so nearly the same shade as her hair, like milky ice, that she might have seemed a beautiful statue, but for the full lips and the flash of blue eyes under heavy lids as she glanced around the room.
"Well, Mylio," she murmured, and her voice had the tone of the bronze bell, "you seem to have made yourself comfortable here. And added to your household, too-good day, Ingar! So you are almost a man now!" At his side Alv saw Ingar bow with the practiced grace of a good upbringing. Then the blue eyes lit on him, and he wanted to imitate the bow, but dared not trust his shaky legs. "And to you also, fair young apprentice! I do not know your name?" She smiled, and Alv's throat went dry. There was something in the parting of the lips…
"Alv, if it please you, lady," he managed, remembering the polite formulas out of some of Ingar's romances, and made a stiff but creditable bow. To his surprise she returned it with a grave inclination of the head, before turning to the Mastersmith.
"It seems to me you have made a promising choice, Mylio," she said. "And you shall tell me what you think of mine. For Louhi also has taken an apprentice—Kara!"
Another rustle, a white shape moving in the dark, halting on the threshold as uncertain as Louhi was assured. The hood was not drawn back, the thin white cloak held protectively close, but Alv could see its wearer was also a woman, thinner and shorter than Louhi. The hood turned toward him for an instant, and he caught a glimpse of wide eyes and dark hair in its shadow. The Mastersmith's dark gaze seemed to penetrate it even more keenly, for he scanned her up and down and darted a glance at Louhi, running the tip of his tongue nervously over his lips.
"Your judgment places mine in shadow, Louhi, as ever. May your servant ask what it is that you require of him?"
Louhi laughed lightly, rippling like the waterfall. "Nothing more costly than an hour of your time, Mylio, and to your own great profit. Things are moving that you should know of. Then we must ride! Come, show me the prospect from your tower, and we shall talk by ourselves."
The Mastersmith bowed silently and waved her toward the stairs. She swept toward them with a confident stride that flared out her cloak like a train—and Alv gaped. Had he really glimpsed the hilt of a broadsword against the white skirts of her riding habit? Kara trailed after her, but the Mastersmith suddenly rounded on her. "By ourselves, you said, Louhi! Well then—she stays down here!"
Louhi's laugh rippled delicately. "Why, Mylio, how un-gallant of you! Anyone would think you were afraid of the child! Well, girl, you may stay here and warm yourself by the fire as you will. But remember that we leave in an hour!"
The girl turned away hurriedly toward the fireplace, and the smith followed Louhi up the stairs. Ingar let out his breath with a great gusty sigh and sagged against the wall.
"What's got into you?" demanded Alv in an undertone.
"Thank the powers she's gone!"
"Why? What's wrong with her?"
Ingar shrugged. "Just her presence—and those eyes of hers—I can't stand 'em, they give me the creeps! Couldn't you feel it? No? Well, there you are, I suppose. You notice Ernan and Roc have made themselves scarce." He chuckled. "Maybe she took a shine to you. If so, you may have her, for me."
"Listen, who is this Louhi woman anyhow? Another smith?"
"Keep your voice down!" snapped Ingar, with a quick toss of the head toward the white-cloaked figure now bending toward the great fire. "I don't know! I've only seen her once before, the day she came to our old smithy at Esarka, far to the south. And that was when the Mastersmith began making plans to move out here for good! I've heard things, though—rumors, whisperings. She's no smith, that's for sure; she had the Mastersmith make her a sword, a fine one. A schemer, a troublemaker—a great lady out of the Southlands, probably. I've heard they let their women get out of hand down there."
Alv's gaze lingered on the girl. As if in answer, she raised a slender hand and very tentatively pushed back her hood
to reveal a head of short dark hair. She turned her head slowly as if to steal a glance back at them, but caught Alv's glance and looked away hurriedly. "And the girl?" he asked, nonchalantly.
Ingar shrugged. "New to me—and little enough I care. If she's Louhi's she'll be nothing for you or I. And you can take that how you like."
Alv pursed his mouth. "There's no harm in just talking to her—"
"On your fool's head be it!" muttered Ingar, and stalked off swiftly toward the library stairs. The door banged behind him, and Alv saw the girl jump, and again when he spoke.
"Don't be frightened, lady! Make yourself at home here. May I find you a chair?"
Now she did look at him, and Alv fought to stop himself goggling. She was the opposite of Louhi, and yet in her own way she too was lovely. It was her eyes he saw first, wide and strangely slanting and as green as sea surf. High cheekbones and a firm nose made her face seem almost triangular, narrowing down to full lips and a strong chin. Her hair was roughly cropped just short enough to show her ears, neat and narrow; her skin was creamy, browner than Louhi's, rich cream against ice. With that, and those eyes, it seemed to him a face he might have glimpsed for an instant in the forest undergrowth below; she had almost an animal aspect—a hunted animal, perhaps already ensnared. For though her face was very young, suffering had graven it deep, and an unseen yoke seemed to weigh down her shoulders. The wildness in those eyes was desperation.
Alv could not speak at first, for something welled up in him, a deep wash of feelings too fiercely foreign to the image of himself he had tried to forge. He grabbed one of the rough settles against the wall and thrust it toward her almost angrily, feeling utterly ludicrous. But she slid down onto it wearily, and a smile glimmered on her lips. Overwhelmed, he slumped down beside her.
"I thank you, sir. It seems so long since I sat in peace by such a fire…" Her voice was startling, deeper and softer than Louhi's. She looked at him almost amusedly. "To whom do I owe my thanks?"
"I—I… I'm an apprentice here—candidate for journeyman, though! They call me Alv…"He shrugged.
"But you don't like that name much?"
Her clear sight stunned him. "I hate it! But I haven't found a better one yet—not one I could bear without, well, feeling foolish. Like flopping around in someone else's clothes, reach-me-down rags…"
She nodded. Her smile was grave still, but more definitely there. "You could have no pride in that. But be patient, you'll find your name, I know you will, and earn it! There's something about you, I sense it—and so did Louhi, I heard her. You're somebody special, one alone, out of the ordinary…"
"So are you! So are you!"
She closed her eyes a moment, and her smile tautened. "Yes. To my grief." Her head bowed, and the firelight trembled on her cheek. The white cloak fell apart; beneath it she wore a plain smock like any village girl's, but in dark soft material. Her long fine hands looked very white against it as they twisted in her lap.
The water roared, the wheel turned, the great hammers pounded, the fire came rushing through him. He seized her hands and held them tight against him. "Lady—I'll help you! Just… tell me how, and I'll help you!"
She stared at him, wildly again, but did not shrink away. Her grip tightened within his own, and with strength that startled him she caught his hands to her breast. "You can't! No smith welded my chains, and even if you were the greatest among men you could not unmake them! Never!" Then she subsided, and laughed a little, but there was no mockery in it. "But one day, perhaps, I can. I had ceased to believe that—or to see any gain in doing so. But knowing somebody wants to try—that itself heartens me so much, so very much…"
"Anything! I'd risk anything!"
Her face set, and light awoke in her eyes, light glimmering on a pool in some immense forest, far greater than any he knew. "No. I forbid you, for not only you would suffer. And you may have some great destiny ahead of you. I would not deny that to the world. In less than an hour Louhi takes me from here—let her!"
"And never see you again? Never know what—what…" Tears at least he could still dam, that much control he kept, but he knew his lip quivered like a child's. Twenty years old, candidate journeyman, he had briefly felt himself grown to a man. Now he felt empty, helpless.
"I promise you this!" she said, slowly, intensely. "That from now on I'll never despair, I'll watch and wait for any sane chance I have to free myself. And then I'll seek you out, wherever you are, and you'll know! Believe me, and be content!"
Flames flickered up in the hearth, a coal cracked and settled. The idea came to him in a rush. He could still face himself in his glass on the morrow. He could still risk something on a venture. He felt the fire's warmth in his smile. "I'll believe you, Kara—if you'll be held to your promise! If you'll accept a token!"
And he held out the armring.
She hesitated a moment, then took it, wondering, and turned it this way and that. The gold reddened in the light, and the flames danced along its pattern. "There is a virtue in this," she said, and her voice trembled. "I of all folk should take care, should take long counsel, before allying myself to such a thing. I should be slow to take it upon me—" Then, violently, she thrust her hand out and through it, and it rode high on her bare arm, past the elbow, and clung there.
"Be you as slow to keep your promise, then," said Alv drily, and they both doubled up with laughter, the foolish mirth that breaks the cords of fear. They swayed together, and for an instant her breath mingled with his, their lips brushed—and then they sprang apart, for they heard light footfalls on the stair, and the rustle of Louhi's robe. Her hands gripped his an instant, and they were parted.
When Louhi and the Mastersmith stepped into the hall Kara sat by the fire alone, head bowed as before. The tall woman looked around and gave a delicate disdainful sniff. "It stinks of animal in here now, after the clean air! And soot, and food, and hot metal—I long for the open road again! Come, Kara!"
Alv, at the open kitchen door, watched her rise and follow, saw the door thrust wide and heard the clatter of hooves on the flagstones as if they were stamping on his heart. But he stood respectfully, and as the Mastersmith ushered out Louhi and followed, Kara's arm darted out, gold-bedecked, from beneath her cloak, to touch his. "It will aid me!" she whispered fiercely. The cloak fell back, and he saw for the first time, as if in a dream, that it was lined with innumerable minute black feathers.
The hooves departed, the outer gate creaked softly to, and the Mastersmith returned, rubbing his hands. He looked pale and harassed, but relieved, as if some immediate burden had been lifted. He sat by the fire in silence for an hour or so, and then called Alv to him. "Well, boy! Let's be having a look at your armring!"
"My armring, Mastersmith? Are you giving it to me?"
The Mastersmith looked slightly askance at him. "Yes— if you wish it, since it is your own work, though the gold is mine. But not your other pieces, mind! Well for you if you do not grow to love your own work too greatly to dispose of it to advantage."
"Indeed, Mastersmith," said Alv, and bowed. "I have already given it away."
"What! To whom?"
Alv drew a breath, and told him. For one instant a blacker fury than he had ever seen crossed his master's brow, and then, surprisingly, the smith began to laugh softly. "So we have given a gift to Louhi! For what that girl has, Louhi has, be sure of that. And what precious thing did you get in return? No, save me the mawkish details, I can guess!" He laughed again, a chilly little laugh, and Alv ground his teeth at what that laugh made of his hour. The smith pursed his lips. "Well, the price was high indeed for any such… matter, but at least there was a price. If you must trifle with women, better you learn to keep it a matter of trade than let them assume undue importance, and distract you from serious matters!" He grew thoughtful. "Louhi herself would know the bauble for what it was, and not wear it. But who knows, if the girl happened to keep the armring… It might yet benefit us greatly to have a hold over one so close t
o Louhi's secrets. Who knows!" He clapped his hands briskly. "So, to bed now, for tomorrow you begin work on your second piece—and that is armory. You will make me a helm of fine mail, and in it a virtue of concealment, of change, of moving subtly and unseen. Dream of that!"
But Alv dreamed of nothing; he could not sleep. His head burned on his hard pillow, strange twisted images of the day unreeling in his mind. One minute he would seethe with anger at the Mastersmith for casually assuming he had been pawing at Kara—the way the old Headman used to treat his maidservants!—and then even more at himself for not having done so. It was what he wanted, wasn't it? What caused the dull swelling ache in him now? She'd probably have enjoyed it well enough, giggled and given in the way the maidservants did. With what he'd given her—for what? for the shadow of a kiss?—he might have commanded the body of a great lady like Louhi, or for its worth in gold a hundred street girls. He might at least have got better value for it. And then he turned over and groaned. If he could think like that, the Mastersmith had made an understandable mistake, had read his character only too well. That was just what he'd thought of trying, might have tried—if it had been any other girl than Kara. But then why did the image of her still torment his body and banish his sleep?
The Anvil of Ice Page 6