The Still

by David Feintuch

  Men of my escort—Lord Raeth’s men—stood about in easy idleness. I stalked past the first knot, barely noticed. Horses sweated in the sun, awaiting water.

  I followed the rocky trail along the valley floor, under forbidding cliffs of white lime. Bending, I picked up a stone, hurled it. What now? Cumber? Soushire? War?

  The crux of my problem was that I hadn’t a plan. Events had propelled me, ever since I fled Castle Stryx and my uncle. Find Hester. Settle Elryc in the cottage. Rejoin my party on the way to Cumber. None of it planned, none designed to advance my cause. Other than Rustin, who of them had joined me whom I’d truly sought to enlist? Certainly not Fostrow. Genard was a child, Tursel a minion of Cumber.

  “Pardon, my lord, may I help?” It was Anavar.

  “I said I would walk alone.”

  “Aye, sir. Who would in truth want that?” He picked his way across the stony turf, hooked a thumb in the rope of his belt. “My father says, ask yourself questions, and find your way.”

  “What is that supposed to—”

  “What do you seek?”

  I sighed. His foolish game would do no good, but likewise, no harm. “My crown. I need a fourth vote in council.” A fifth, to be safe, but that seemed impossible. I might have to rule without the Still.

  “Who could vote for you?”

  I snarled, “Whose pledge I hold is a secret of state! Think you I’d tell an enemy, when my friends know not?”

  His mouth closed, and a light went from his eyes. “No, sir. Pardon me.”

  “Imps and demons roast you in the lake! Groenfil, Vessa the Speaker, and the Warthen are left.”

  “All the rest are pledged to you?”

  “Except for Uncle Mar.” His vote was beyond imagining.

  “What would move Vessa?”

  “Gold, perhaps; they say he’s a venal man. But Mar can offer far more than I.”

  “Could your uncle himself be swayed?”

  “By my head, on a pike.”

  “And Groenfil?”

  “Mar took Groenfil’s sister to wife. They are close bound.”

  “Which of them is least obliged to your uncle?”

  “The Warthen, I’d think, but he’s inaccessible. Of the rest, Vessa.”

  I bent for another stone, chucked it down the hillside.

  After a time, the boy did likewise.

  I said, “Vessa’s in Stryx, if Tantroth hasn’t deposed him.” I headed back toward the waiting troops. “Vessa it is. I’ll tell them.”

  The youngster matched my pace. “See, my lord? You had the answer within you.”

  “Not so I could find it. I’m grateful. If there’s anything I can do for you ...” I trailed off, knowing he would understand my thanks were enough.

  We scrambled up the hill. Rustin would insist on coming along, but in Stryx we were known together. The two of us would be doubly conspicuous. I’d have to—

  “Actually, sir, if I’ve done anything to warrant your favor ...” Anavar’s voice was hesitant.

  Whatever he wanted, I’d refuse, but I had at least to hear him, after making the offer. “Get on with it.”

  “My father is a man of substance, and—that is—sir, I’ve never had to do without. For little things, I mean.” He flushed. “Even under my lord Treak’s command, I had coin enough, provided by my family. But after the battle, my purse was taken.”

  “You accuse me?”

  His words came in a rush. “If your boundless generosity would permit a small stipend, that I might tip a servant, or buy a skin of wine ... after the war, sire, I could make it good to you, and surely my father would be grateful.”

  Dumbfounded, I stopped dead. “You presumptuous urchin, we bested you in battle, took you prisoner! To save your life I let you swear adherence. Now you’d have me provide a stipend as if you were my—my child?” My voice rose to a squeak.

  His face was quite red. “Only for a time, sir. Remember that I’m of noble blood, and utterly without means. If the request offends you—”

  “Mightily.”

  “It is withdrawn. I pray your pardon.”

  We resumed our hike. Panting, I climbed the last of the way. I untied my waterskin from Ebon’s saddle, gulped a long drink. “Tursel, we’ll have to approach Stryx as closely as we may without battle. How long a ride?”

  “One man could ride it in a day. With all our party as escort? Three, at least.”

  “We’d best get going.”

  “Aye, my lord. I’ll want an hour to organize our march.” He hurried off.

  I retied the skin, swung up on the saddle, took the reins from Anavar. I growled, “Three coppers per week?”

  He broke out into a grin, the first I’d seen from him, and proceeded to bargain away my patrimony.

  We formed line, got under way once more. Our scouts fanned down the hillside, probing. Again, Elryc rode at my side with Rustin, but now, uninvited, Anavar attached himself to my inner circle.

  Rust, in a philosophical bent, interrogated Anavar about Eiberian rites, while I was for the most part silent, pondering my approach to Vessa.

  The Speaker of the City was, in theory, spokesman and intermediary for the masses of townsmen who lived below our walls. He was expected to intercede for them when necessary, in the councils of the kingdom. But the office was hereditary, as had been Llewelyn’s, and over the years the Speaker’s role as spokesman had become little more than a formality.

  Vessa’s prime concern was the port, and the open-air market that served the town, the keep, and Castle Stryx. From these he derived substantial revenues, though always he complained he was short of funds. Mother had said she tolerated him because he administered the town for her, more cheaply than she could do so herself.

  Rustin broke into my musing. “Remember, Roddy, how the Ritemaster in Shar’s Cross spoke of the tides of time? I think that’s what the Eiberians mean when they talk of turnings.”

  “Gibberish.”

  “But what scope for imagining. Consider this place—all the world—in another turning, another tide. All the same, yet somehow different. Perhaps horses are green, or trees shatter like glass. Or perhaps there’s no Power.”

  “You’re daft.”

  The wild clatter of hooves cut off his reply. Cloak flying, a scout tore past our wagons, reined in his foaming bay in a cloud of dust. “Emissaries! Messengers!” He was as out of breath as if he’d run, not ridden. “A league ahead, three men in arms. They pray safe-conduct, and would speak with the Prince.”

  “Imps and demons!” I directed my ire at Tursel. “Tantroth might as well be among us; he knows always where we ride. How is this so?”

  “Pardon, my lords. Not Tantroth. They’re from Duke Margenthar of Stryx.”

  My jaw dropped, and as all eyes turned to me I sat there looking an idiot. At last, I managed, “Rust?”

  “Hear them, to learn what they want.”

  “Obviously.” I really had no other course; why then hadn’t I known it myself?

  Apparently there was an etiquette to the circumstance I hadn’t yet mastered. It took a full hour, a hastily erected tent, pennants, pledges of our mutual safety, and the offer of wine, politely refused, before we sat across from each other.

  In my faction, Rustin and Tursel; for Uncle Mar, two men I knew not, but led by Stire, Mar’s trusted deputy, his favorite whom Rustin and I had disrobed in the wine cellar.

  From his expression one would think he had no recall of his humiliation, but I knew if I was to fall into his hands without safe-conduct, I were dead.

  I made a short bow of courtesy. “How may we attend you?”

  He returned my bow. It was a civil nod, though not deep enough to be full acknowledgment of my rank. “From your uncle the Duke of Stryx, fond greetings.” For a moment his eyes reflected the irony we both savored. “He asks after your health.”

  My tone was cool. “Surely you didn’t ride all these leagues for that inquiry?”

  “No.” It was a ba
rk, and Stire tried to soften it as he resumed. “He bids you confer with him for the preservation of the kingdom.”

  “I’d welcome his visit.”

  Stire shrugged aside my sarcasm. “Youngsire, you know he cannot leave Verein, as matters now stand. But he offers you most gracious welcome, safe-conduct within a league of his castle, and his oath that you may depart unhindered whenever you wish.”

  “On what issue would he confer?”

  “I’m but a humble vassal, youngsire, and am not informed. It must surely be a matter of some urgency.”

  “Not urgent enough to call him here.”

  “Stryx is threatened, and Verein itself isn’t far from Tantroth’s troops. No commander can leave under such circumstances, youngsire.”

  “Stop calling me that! I’m Rodrigo, Prince. I have a man’s station!”

  Stire’s flicker of delight made clear the gibe was intentional. “Please forgive me, youngsi—Lord Rodrigo. In your extended absence, your manhood escaped our notice. However”—his tone turned reasonable, almost wheedling—“is it not a mark of your station that my lord Duke begs to meet with you, rather than, as regent, summons you to his presence?”

  Despite his animosity, I had to acknowledge the last was true. If real, it represented a distinct change in my uncle’s approach. Yet Uncle had given me his assurances before. Regarding having the Council crown me, for instance. Not long after, I’d barely escaped his clutches.

  No, I couldn’t risk a journey to Verein. “Very well, tell Duke Margenthar—”

  Loudly, Rustin cleared his throat.

  I wished he had stayed silent, that I not look his puppet. Or Rust might have intervened sooner; now I had to reverse myself. I said smoothly, “You’ll have your answer anon. Pray take refreshment, while I consult with my counselors.” A series of bows, and we made our escape.

  We huddled in the shade of the tall beeches, the three of us and Elryc, who shouldered past the sentries and inserted himself in our midst.

  “Well?”

  “Folly, to put yourself in his hands.” Rustin. “You mustn’t go.”

  How obvious; why would he interrupt me with Stire, for that? Out of stubbornness, I answered, “Mar himself has a vote in Council. Of course I must go.”

  “I agree with Rustin, my lord.” Tursel. “As well put your head in a noose and draw it tight.”

  “Think,” I said. “Uncle Mar must have some purpose in asking to confer. If I refuse—”

  “His purpose is to get hold of you!”

  “What if he has a plan concerning Tantroth? Or even, proposes to end the cursed regency?”

  Elryc pawed at my arm. “Your wish doesn’t make it so. You don’t know enough to—”

  Exasperated, I slapped his fingers. “Now you call me foolish?”

  “No, Roddy. You don’t know enough to decide.” His childish voice had adult purpose, and I quieted. “Vessa is in the city. Seek him out; learn what he knows. Perhaps then your way will be clearer.”

  I blinked at the sense of it.

  “In the meantime, don’t refuse Mar.”

  I asked, “You mean, delay?”

  “Or better, accept. Set a time for after you’ve met with Vessa. You can always change your mind.”

  I threw my arm across my brother’s shoulder. “Truly, you serve well as counselor.” He flushed with pleasure.

  Rust held up a hand. “Just how will you meet with Vessa? Hurl our regiment through Tantroth’s lines?”

  “We could send an emissary, even if he had to circle the town to find entry.”

  “And then?”

  “Ask Vessa to come out to us.”

  “If he refuses?”

  I shouted, “No more questions!” Rust but raised an eyebrow. “How should I know? Think you the players move according to set rules?”

  “That’s my point, my prince. You can’t set a time to meet Mar until you know when you’ll see Vessa.”

  My head spun. “Tell him a week from today, at Verein. That gives us two days to ride to Stryx, a day to get through to Vessa, another to meet with him. We’d still have three days to reach Verein, and that’s but one day’s ride from Stryx.”

  “Assuming Tantroth stands aside to allow you passage.” He sighed. “Very well. I’ll tell Stire.”

  We waited in the shade of the beeches. “Tursel, if Uncle Mar and his men are barricaded in Verein, and we’re still in Soushire’s lands, how did Stire know where to find us?”

  “The spies who watched us at Soushire’s court. Or perhaps we’re followed now.”

  “Wouldn’t your outriders know of it?”

  “It depends how skillful our pursuers are. It’s easier to hide three riders from five hundred than the reverse.”

  I grunted, afraid he was right.

  After much talk it was arranged. Shortly, Stire’s party rode off in a storm of hooves and a miasma of dust.

  That evening, a dull and dismal drizzle added to the chill of the night. Across the sputtering campfire, we debated searching for Lord Vessa, while Genard and Anavar set twigs ablaze and waved them in fiery circles.

  Tursel proposed we send a few riders south through the ribbed range of mountains that paralleled the seacoast behind Stryx. Safely south, our men would veer west and travel back along the coast to the town.

  I cared not what route the riders took; how would they manage to speak with Vessa? What if he were guarded, or a prisoner? What if he refused?

  “You’re heir,” said Rust. “Certainly he’ll listen to your plea.”

  “The Warthen didn’t. Genard, put that stick down before you set yourself afire.” I shivered, hunched closer to the coals.

  Apologetically, Fostrow cleared his throat. “Roddy, the Warthen is safe behind his cliff barriers; he had no need to hear you. Vessa is menaced by Tantroth. You’d think he’d examine his options.”

  “Even if Vessa hears our messenger, it would be a great risk for him to leave Stryx to see us. If Tantroth learns of it, he would not be pleased. What would prompt him to—imps and demons!” I swatted sparks from my blanket. “Genard, I’ll blister your—Elryc, govern your liegeman! Anavar, set that toy aside!”

  Anavar tossed his twigs into the fire, settled on his knees at my right. “Your pardon, my lord.” A pause. “It would seem ...”

  I waited, but he said no more. “Yes?”

  “That you must go to Stryx.” He added hurriedly, “If this Vessa must be convinced, is it not you who must persuade him?”

  “Tantroth would seize me the moment I appeared.”

  “If he knew you.”

  Dare I enter the city in disguise? If but one soul recognized me and spoke, I were dead. On the other hand, I’d grown, and tanned in the sun. Lesser clothes, a tired horse ... It might be done. But if I failed, my life was forfeit.

  All waited, and I spoke with reluctance. “There’s merit in what you say.”

  “No, it’s absurd,” growled Fostrow. “Seek Earl Groenfil, or some other lord. You can’t ride into Stryx while it’s held by Eiber.”

  Elryc intervened. “Roddy, if one of us is taken, the rest fight on for your cause. If you’re killed or captured, your reign is ended before it’s begun.”

  I snarled, “It’s already finished. We sleep in borrowed tents, guarded by Cumber’s loaned soldiers, eating only by his largesse, pretending I had any chance of becoming King even with a fourth vote in Council.”

  “Would you give it up?” Rustin.

  “Yes. No.” Angrily, I got to my feet. “How should I know these things?”

  “Come back. We’ve yet to—”

  I stalked to the edge of camp. After a time, I noticed a shadow behind. Staring through branches at the moon sailing above, I waited for Rust’s calming hand.

  “Pardon my lord.” Anavar’s alto, on its journey toward manhood.

  I jumped. “I thought—why do you always follow me?”

  “You’re unhappy.”

  “Obviously.”

>   “When I’m unsettled, I want someone to talk with.”

  “Talk, then.”

  “Why do you want to go to Stryx?”

  “To settle the matter with Vessa, once and for all. I hate this business of intermediaries, messages I don’t quite understand, promises that may not be meant. It’s why I never paid much heed to Mother’s statecraft.”

  “And why don’t you want to go?”

  “I just said ...” I grinned wryly. “If you must know, I’m afraid.”

  “Of death?”

  “Well, yes. But more of torture.” I shivered. “At Stryx I saw a man who’d been tormented by the Norlanders. His hands ...” The recall made me gag.

  “Once I saw them put a man in the pit.” Anavar grimaced.

  “Still, Mar holds the castle, but not the town. Even if Vessa turned on me, he couldn’t easily betray me to the Duke.”

  “Go on, sir.”

  “It’s your Tantroth I fear. On bad nights, I dream of the black sails I saw from high on the hill. And his black-clad men who struck at us from the wood. Yet, I must see Vessa.” I sighed. “Anavar, tell truth: What will happen if your master catches me?”

  “I don’t know, sir.” He hesitated. “He won’t let you go, I think. Not unless you make alliance with him, that he may gain Caledon. They say Lord Tantroth’s thoughts never roam far from that purpose.”

  “If I refused?”

  “I don’t know him well. I’d guess he’d try to break your will. I mean, through your body.” Anavar stumbled, caught my arm to save his balance. “Sorry. I don’t see well in the dark. Father says ... never mind.”

  My thoughts were elsewhere. “I might manage it. I know the streets, and I’ve supped at the tavern oft enough. The house of Vessa is near the harbor, on the promontory.”

  “Sir, I can’t act against my lord Tantroth.”

  “I know, Anavar.” My tone was gentle.

  A long pause, while we negotiated rocks along the trail. Finally, Anavar said, “Guards roam everywhere. In the square, at the market. Through all the streets. Tantroth means not to be surprised should your uncle’s troops sortie from the hill.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced about; we’d strayed too far from the flickering fires. “Best we head back.”

  “Look how the moon rides through the clouds. Think you the demons get warmth from her as we do the sun?”