by David Mason
When I came at last to the shore, a great new road ran beside the sea, and travelers rode and walked there; beyond, I saw towers and walls, and the masts of ships, like a forest. That port I had made was now a city.
I dismounted again, stiffly, and let the pony graze again, while I sat on a bank over the sea and the road, watching the passers by. There seemed to be all sorts of people; but not one face I knew. Even the tones of their speech seemed strange in some way, although I understood it well enough.
Then a young man in brown leather came, walking along and leading a great horse, a beautiful beast who reminded me of my stallion Gold in his color and look. But the horse limped, and seemed reluctant to follow; and as the young man came to my patch of grass, he dropped the reins, letting his horse halt.
“Your beast is hurt,” I said, from my perch. The young man nodded gloomily.
“He struck his foreleg against a stone,” he said. “He has been lamed, for good I fear.”
“Let me look,” I said. “I’ve some knowledge of horses.”
I climbed down, and the beast let me handle him, without trouble. As I’d guessed, it was a bruise, but not so bad it couldn’t be healed. I rubbed it with a handful of grass, and after a while the pain must have lessened, as I thought.
“It must be rubbed again, with warm oil,” I said. “Then, a compress. And he cannot be ridden for a while, at least.”
“You seem too good a horse coper to be riding such a… what in Tana’s name is it?” the young man asked, staring at my skinny pony.
“Better than sore feet,” I said. “I’m one who… has no other home, now.”
The young man studied me thoughtfully. “Many come here, who have no other homes.” he said. “Such is our law… because we came here in the same way, so long ago.”
I wanted to ask a question, but dared not.
“Were you a warrior, in some other place?” he asked. “You wear weapons, and that chain mail… you’ll need none here. We are at peace.”
“I… I sought a land of peace.” I said, in a low voice, looking at the sea. In the distance, I saw the peaks of the dragon island; and high above it, bright flying flecks in the upper air. That had not changed.
“Would you accept service, man?” the young man asked.
“Service?”
“I see how you are, with horses.” he said. “I have no such skill, and none of my kinsmen seem to have. I hold lands, near here, with fine pasturing, and horses, like this one. I’ve wished to breed more such, since their value is growing; now they’ve been heard of in other lands, men come here oftener to buy.”
“And you’d have me, a stranger, for your horsemaster?” I asked.
“You seem… like someone I might have known, I think.”
“My name… is Orm.” I said, taking the name of my dead knight, the first that came to mind. “I think I’d be glad to serve you.”
“Orm? Why, that’s an old name with us.” the young man said. “Good, then. I’m called Kaval, of Hostan.”
“Hostan?” I stared at him.
“Why, yes. An ancient house, here.” he said. “But come; let me show you the way to the lands of Hostan.”
It took all the self-control I could gather to refrain from any sign of what I felt. I went with him, then, down that great road, and then through lanes, to where a high house stood on a hill. Beyond it, lay fields and forests, and among the distant trees, the glimmer of a little lake.
“That lake?” the young Kaval answered my question. “Oh, we call it part of our own lands, but we touch none of the forest around it. It’s called a sacred grove, because it’s said a goddess lived there, and was seen at times. Most men avoid it, though I’ve never heard of any danger that could be named. As a matter of fact, a witch lives there now, in a cottage beside the lake. A white witch, it’s said; some villagers bring her gifts, at times, though she is seldom seen.”
That lake, I knew, though the land was so changed around it. Once, I had walked there.
Far beyond the trees, I saw a distant tower. There, I looked with pain, but hid it well.
“That tower? Why, that’s the High King’s own house… my own cousin,” Kaval said. “But we are not like other lands here, where men must rub their noses before their kings. Here, a man may stand up in the King’s presence. Though Tana knows my good cousin Kavin has a short enough temper with insolence… as his ancestor did, I’m told.”
“His ancestor?”
“Why, yes.” Kaval said. “The great Kavin, first king in Koremon, who returned here to rule under the Copper Crown, after conquering the evil three. Have you never heard the famous epic of the poet Thronn?”
“I have lived far from here,” I said. “But I shall most certainly seek out that epic.”
We spoke further, Kaval most enthusiastic about his horse herd, and his hopes. We saw his stables, and met with other men of his household. And so, I came to be Orm, horsemaster to the lord Kaval; and later, I went down to that great port city, which bore my name, and saw a most unlikely heroic statue of myself, as well as images of others I had known.
It seemed I had ruled wisely and well, and died mourned by all; that I had many sons and daughters, that my laws were just, and my reign glorious. And that it had all been many, many years ago, for ivy grew thickly on the great tomb where my ashes lay.
As a horsemaster, I did well indeed; for next to ships, I love the beasts. Kaval’s herds grew, and he valued my work.
I had seen my old ship, the Luck, too. It stood, shrined in a small temple where Tana was worshiped, and shipmasters came there to pray for good voyages. I walked about the place, looking up at those ancient timbers with wonder; and then, I dropped a small offering at the prow, where the ivory figure still stood, and went away.
Still, I had never gone to that lake in the wood, where one memory still lay untasted. A strange thought came to me, one day, while Kaval spoke of how much service I had been to him, and mentioned gifts.
“A gift, lord Kaval,” I said thoughtfully. “Well, now… I am a landless man. Would a small patch of woodland be too great a gift?”
“Woodland?” he asked. “Why, Orm, you’ve only to ask.”
But when I mentioned that place, he was at first reluctant. But I promised I would neither cut away the trees, nor evict that witch who was said to live there, if indeed she still did. What I wished, I said, was a quiet place, where I could some day build a cot of my own, to spend a day, or to wait for age.
So, he handfasted the land to me, and I went down to that lake once more.
It looked as if nothing had changed, not since the time I walked there… generations ago, I thought. But the glimmer of sun on the water was the same; the same fish rose, to snap at flies… flies who were a thousand generations of fly-dom from others I had once looked at.
There was a low house, now, a whitewashed cottage, like a herdsman’s. This would be the witch’s house, then. I went toward it, curious.
The door stood open. I stepped inside.
It seemed like any farmhouse kitchen, clean, furnished with rough pieces, and quiet. Then, I heard a low voice, a woman’s, oddly familiar.
“Greeting, Prince.”
I turned. A young woman, pretty, with a round quiet face, sat at a weaving frame; oddly, I had not seen her there before. Her dark, deep eyes met mine, and I laughed.
“Good lady, I am no prince. I am the horsemaster, Orm.”
“Ah.” she said. “No prince. You resembled a prince I had seen once.”
“You flatter, lady.” I said.
“No,” she told me. “Now that I see you, I see you are wiser than he was. I am told you now hold this land from the lord Kaval. Will you drive me out, then?”
“Of course not.” I said. “But… you seem very young, for a witch.”
“I’ve been called a witch.” she said, quietly. “I live here, and have sometimes helped people… but I waited here, a long time.”
I stared at her face.
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“I never saw you,” I said, somewhat stupidly.
“I am seen, when I wish to be.” she said.
“To wait, here…” I stepped back. “Are you a woman? Macha Emrinn…”
“I am a woman.” she said. “And that, out there is a lake, and there are trees, made of living wood. The light of the day is a sun, and how many words do such as you need, to call things by?” She laughed, and smiled at me. “And I will be here, horsemaster Orm, as I have been.”
And so she is, as I am. And today, I shall visit the tomb of the great prince Kavin… and leave an offering for his ghost’s peace.