The Wayward Knights

by Roland Green

  "So you tell me what you remember, and I won't spread any more tales."

  Torvik told of what he'd seen, and added, "We were so far off that I doubt the woman knew I was watching her, let alone whether I found her desirable. And I was so far off that I couldn't tell whether she had six toes on each foot and a harelip!"

  Torvik heard relief in Hem's voice, whether at the absent of Dimernesti or at Torvik's not having lain with one, the young captain could not tell. He hoped it was the first. Captains who believed the kingpriest's babble about "lesser breeds who stood beyond the law through their lack of virtue" would be a burden the fleet of Vuinlod did not need.

  "So," Hem said. "Should I try tallow for Dart's bottom? Stands to reason that the Dimernesti might feel kinship for seals, the way the Dargonesti do for whales."

  "They might well, if there are enough of them to make a difference," Torvik said. "Remember, even if I saw the woman, she might be the only one of her kind in those waters."

  "So she might," Hem said, plainly relieved. "I mean no offense to her folk, but if I have to scrape Dart clean and grease her again, I'll be another half-month before sailing.

  "I've ordered some fish oil to add to our tallow," Torvik said. It reeks so that only a god could smell anything else on a ship's planks. Let me give you some to mix with the seal oil, and what the Dimernesti don't know won't hurt you."

  They shook on that, and Torvik left, much relieved. Hem was no hater of "lesser breeds," only a captain with much work to make his ship ready and little time to do it. There were many such about these days.

  He himself had best learned to command his face better. Other captains, less friendly, might also read in it what he did not want known. Even captains spread tales, of his lack of self-command if nothing else.

  Also, the Knights of Solamnia who would be sailing aboard Vuinlod's ships would be riding into town within days. And they worshiped self-command almost as a lesser god, and would expect much of it from the son of a man whose memory the knights mostly held in respect.

  Gerik had wanted to greet the woman—the lady, by courtesy—and her companions as befitted one who named himself Gerik of Tirabot.

  He wished to ride up to her, dismount, bow, give his name, and ask hers as well as her reason for coming onto land given into his trust by Sir Pirvan of Tirabot, Knight of the Rose. Meanwhile, a mounted escort of men-at-arms would keep their distance, and hidden archers would keep an even greater distance—as well as keeping their arrows properly nocked and aimed.

  Instead, everyone who could ride or run swarmed toward the gate, until the sergeants' rude language put a halt to the chaos. Even so, Gerik rode out with ten men instead of five, not all of them by any means fighters, and several other people rode or ran off toward the village.

  Gerik only hoped that their riding or running would stop in the village, and that they were only going to bring the marvelous tale to friends and kin, not to those who would carry it to hostile ears. Gerik had no idea who this woman's friends or enemies might be, but he would prefer not to learn by having either of them sprout from the ground at his father's very gates!

  It was a short journey to the woman, and the riders took most of it at a canter. As they reined in to a trot, Gerik saw that the kender numbered five, one of them a woman, and that all were armed: two hoopaks, two spears, and a crossbow.

  They also took neither their hands from their weapons nor their eyes from the newcomers. Gerik had the sense of dealing with a trained war band, or at least with folk accustomed to working together—something not rare among kender, but seldom seen in daylight by humans.

  He waved his men into a half-circle, facing the forest and well back from the woman. Then he himself dismounted and walked toward her, keeping his hands in plain sight, away from his steel. It did not take much learning to realize that the green grease on the head of the crossbow's bolt might be poison—or at least something brewed by a kender healer who intended it to be poisonous.

  The kender archer would hardly need poison, however. Among the things forgotten in the rush out from the manor was Gerik's armoring himself. Besides a hastily girded-on belt with sword and dagger, he wore only a light helmet and his ordinary clothes.

  "Greetings, mistress," he said, raising a hand palm outward. "And welcome to the lands of Tirabot Manor. I am Gerik, son of the lord Sir Pirvan, Knight of the Rose, and in his name and my own I bid you welcome."

  The woman, who had been standing taut as a bowstring and with a hand inside her cloak, seemed to ease visibly. Her hand came into sight—empty—and the points of the kender weapons dropped by a whole handsbreadth.

  "Greetings, Lord Gerik," the woman said. "My name is Ellysta. I claim your protection, in the name of justice and honor. I will explain why—" her breath caught and she pressed a hand to her side "—if you deem it necessary."

  The woman spoke like one of birth and education, and her tattered, grass-stained gown and still worse-afflicted cloak were of good cloth. Her feet were not only bare but bloody, and plainly not commonly unshod.

  A further look told Gerik that Ellysta was not much older than he, although at first glance this was not apparent. One had to look under dirt, cuts and bruises, a black eye, a split lip and an air of fear, hunger, and weariness to see her youth.

  "There will be a time and place for that, Lady Ellysta," Gerik said. "But not here and now. You seem in need of food at least, perhaps healing as well."

  That meant a message to Serafina, wife of Grimsoar One-Eye, his father's old companion and formerly steward of the manor. Serafina was a singularly accomplished healer for one without magicworking arts. Indeed, she might already be on her way to the manor house, summoned by one of the riders to the village.

  Gerik sighed. Serafina's coming meant having her husband hard on her heels, and Gerik would not thereafter be truly master in his own father's house until Grimsoar and Serafina returned to the village. That was one reason why he was glad his father had not asked Grimsoar to resume his office during Pirvan's absence; the old sailor and thief would have been as firmly in command as any sworn knight.

  Before Gerik could choose a messenger, he heard a band of horsemen approaching at a canter. He turned to sec his guards also hastily turning their mounts to stand between their chief and the newcomers. They did it with a precision and order that spoke well for their discipline, which had plainly returned now that the novelty of visiting kender had worn off.

  The approaching riders also numbered five, all with breastplates, helmets, and swords. One carried what was either a lance or a banner, and all wore red and green armbands.

  Those colors did nothing to ease Gerik's mind. They were the colors of House Dirivan, who held extensive lands in the area. They had also been well to the lead in fortifying their estates, and had been notoriously friendly to the kingpriests for three generations.

  Gerik was prepared to order the riders off his father's land on sight. He reined in his temper, however, so that he thought his first words came out with an air of reason about them. "Greetings, men of House Dirivan," Gerik said steadily. "What grave matter brings you here in such haste, on a day when a fair sky has not yet dried the roads?"

  One of the men started to reply, but another made a chopping gesture that silenced him.

  "We come for Ellysta," the second man said. "Hand her over, and there's no trouble for you, or for the kender."

  Gerik thought the first might be the truth, but that the second reeked of lies. It was hard to tell what the kender thought, because they suddenly started scurrying around as if all of them had been taken with the purple itch, or a bad case of fleas.

  Gerik saw neither plan nor purpose in their movements, until he suddenly realized that they were spreading out, so that they all had good shots but were a bad target themselves. Definitely these five were a trained war band, pretending to be the usual foolish, even witless kender that small minds expected. Proof of that: the five House Dirivan men were laughing aloud, one so hard
that he could hardly stay in his saddle.

  Gerik drew everyone's attention by drawing his dagger and rapping it against his sword scabbard. "Have you proof of your right to take Lady Ellysta?" he asked.

  "We are House Dirivan, and one under our protection has been injured by her," the leader said.

  "I should say that all the injuries were not on one side," Gerik replied. "Unless she was the one under your protection. If so, I think you need some help with the task."

  Among the men passed looks that made Gerik raise his hand to keep his own men from drawing swords and nocking, arrows. He decided to try one last time at settling the matter with words.

  "If you have proof of that right," Gerik said, "I will not land up for a criminal. My father holds land under the laws of Istar, and both as landholder and knight he obeys them. But if you lack—"

  Five sets of spurs dug into five flanks. Then two kender began whirling their hoopaks, and five horses suddenly began dancing about at the weird howling from the kender instruments. Some of the Tirabot mounts also pecked and tossed their heads, but they had been trained to endure weirder sounds than hoopaks, at least with riders on their backs.

  Meanwhile, the other three kender seemed to have vanished.

  Before Gerik could wonder where they had gone, two of them reappeared, behind and in front of the leader's horse. The one behind prodded the horse in the haunches with his spear. The horse shrieked and reared. Its rider parted company with his mount and landed with a crash.

  Before he could regain his wind or his feet, the other kender—the woman, Gerik saw—had the point of her spear at his throat. Her eyes were on the four House Dirivan men who were still mounted. Her voice would have made icicles drip from a knight's mustache. "Ellysta is in the hands of someone who promises justice," the kender woman said. "We know justice. He knows justice. You do not. Go away, now, or take this one with a hole in his throat when you go."

  At a signal from Gerik, his own mounted men rode forward to disarm the House Dirivan riders. It was as well to do this before folly, pride, or mere disbelief that a human would fight for kender led them to try riding the kender down.

  Swiftness prevented bloodshed; Gerik had often heard his father say this could happen, but it was the first time he had seen it happen by his own orders.

  Once the men were disarmed and their leader remounted, Gerik faced them. "We do know justice here at Tirabot," he said, "and I will not stand in its path. You may know it too, but if so, then come with proof next time. Your deeds today have made me wonder.

  "You will have your weapons back when you reach the borders of Tirabot land. As soon as I speak with Lady Ellysta, I shall write to your master, likewise to my father."

  "That's right," gasped the leader. "Spread her lies across—"

  He stopped, because the kender woman was looking at him again. She said something in her own speech, which made all the kender laugh—rather grimly, Gerik thought—then translated: "It seems you have so many holes in your head already that all the sense drained out, so I couldn't have hurt you by making one more. I'll remember that next time."

  Gerik led the escort as far as the road. By the time he returned to Ellysta, she had fainted, but Serafina had arrived and she and the kender woman were busily applying salves and dressings.

  "I don't suppose there's such a thing as a horse litter about," Serafina said. Her tone made it plain that it was too much to expect such a thing of mere men, and warriors at that.

  "There is, and I will send for it," Gerik said.

  "Good," Serafina said. "Oh, and for a few days at least, I advise keeping men away from Ellysta. Those rogues—or some like them—gave her reason to fear men."

  Horimpsot Elderdrake reached Tirabot Manor long after dark and completely covered with mud. He had fallen into a bog making his final escape from his pursuers, and had first thought to find a stream and wash. After all, Shumeen seemed to look on him with some favor that might turn into more. She would not be happy if he returned black as the dregs of tarberry tea.

  Then he realized that he would be reaching the manor well after dark. The blacker he was, the harder he would be to see, even for alert sentries. The guards were keeping a close watch, but not close enough to spy out a kender clad in mud and dark clothing. As soon as he was safely within the guarded area, Elderdrake washed himself roughly at the handiest well. Now his earthy disguise would be more trouble than help, whereas if he appeared to be just another roughly-clad kender, the humans would take him for one of Ellysta's companions. Elderdrake had discovered that a good many humans could barely tell one kender from another.

  Shumeen looked as happy to see him as he had hoped, but they had no time for words alone. Elderdrake was supplied with cold sausage and warmed-over soup, while the other kender took turns telling him of their day.

  "So Gerik believes Ellysta?" he asked, finally.

  Shumeen spread her hands and said, "He believes what Serafina tells him Ellysta said. He does not speak with her himself, because he and the other men are staying out of her chambers for a while.

  "Why shouldn't they believe her, anyway?" Shumeen added "It's true. It wouldn't seem true if you didn't know how strange humans are about possessions, but kender are born knowing that."

  Elderdrake nodded. Ellysta's situation had come about because a widowed friend of hers had fallen afoul of friends of the kingpriest. The widow had been taken away, and her flocks were supposed to have gone to one of those friends of the kingpriest.

  But Ellysta instead hid the sheep and goats, taking care of them herself even though her family had herders who could have done the work. She would not put them in danger, she said.

  So danger came to her, and worse. She had looked half-dead when the kender found her, and it had taken days to nurse her back to enough health to walk as far as Tirabot Manor. Fortunately none of her enemies had actually come searching for her until she was actually on her way, Perhaps they had thought she was dead.

  Apart from no kender having ever tolerated someone like the kingpriest, no kender had ever punished someone by saying that what had been theirs now belonged to someone else. In the course of a year, almost every sheep, goat, pot, pan, and kettle in a kender village made the rounds of every household. Sometimes they ended up where they had begun; other times they went with somebody who was marrying outside the village, or going traveling, or were stolen by gully dwarves.

  This looked confused and complicated to humans, or so Elderdrake had heard. To him, it was the humans who had all the complicated laws, and all the worries about enforcing them, even when they wanted to be just, and all the opportunities for the unjust to make trouble….

  "We have one problem," Shumeen said. "Sir Pirvan is not at the manor. He was gone off again, on some quest, or matter of the knights, or spying on enemies, or whatever."

  "Haimya too?"

  "Haimya, and Young Eskaia, and more than half the fighters. Knights named Darin and Hawkbrother came, but went with Pirvan."

  Elderdrake wanted to put his head in his hands, then realized that this would alarm his friends.

  "Gerik is a seasoned warrior," Elderdrake said. "I have been on the same battlefield with him and seen as much. Also, House Dirivan will think twice before attacking the property of a Knight of Solamnia, even if the knight is not at home."

  "If they can think at all," someone muttered.

  Shumeen glared all around her, so that everyone except Elderdrake looked abashed. Then she smiled. "Now, tell us about your day in the woods," she said. She looked ready to hang on his every word, which she probably really wasn't, but Elderdrake was willing to be flattered. He was also willing to get his hands on another plate of sausage.

  When somebody had handed him that plate, he stood up, waved a sausage for attention, and began: "Now, some humans are easier to fool than others, and these were the easy kind. But there were quite a lot of them, and I had to go on fooling them over and over again. If they started to learn from the
time before and do better next time, I was going to be in a really bad situation…."

  Chapter 4

  "Father, Mother, it is both our wishes." Young Eskaia said, hands on hips, daring her parents to contradict her.

  Pirvan wondered where Hawkbrother might be. He did not question the courage of his son-in-law-to-be in light of the young warrior's absence from this confrontation. Rather, he thought it prudent, though he hoped it would leave no lingering resentment in Eskaia, to poison the marriage in later years.

  "I believe that," Pirvan said. The alternative, calling both his daughter and her betrothed liars, was unthinkable. "I also ask you to believe that five days is rather an immodestly short time to make ready for your wedding," he added. "People will say that you are unmaidenly eager—"

  "I am," Eskaia interrupted. "So is Hawkbrother. Ask Mother how she felt after your year of celibacy. Ask your memories how you felt, and remember that for my beloved it has been two years."

  Pirvan flushed. This was partly from the memories, partly from hearing such matters from his daughter's lips, and partly because Haimya was desperately struggling not to giggle.

  "I was thinking of more than modesty," he said, commanding his voice. "Believe me or not as you choose. I was thinking that five days is not much time to gather your wedding garb."

  "Lady Eskaia has promised all the help in her power, including all the tailors and seamstresses either of us could wish. Her own preparations are long made, and Aurhinius has insisted on being wed in his best armor, much to her annoyance." The girl giggled. "Besides, you know full well how little garb a bride and groom need for their wedding."