by Dave Duncan
miscellaneous courtiers trailing at his
heels. Aeled usually made things worse
by inviting friends to stay also. When he was there, the
walls bulged, and massed snoring scared away
all the wildlife in the south half of the island--so
he claimed, and everyone laughed when a king made
a joke. He refused to have the place rebuilt
or repaired, not even to close up the chinks in the
notoriously unprivate walls. If he
made it more comfortable, he said, then more people would find
excuses to come.
The herd of courtiers and officials was busily
settling in, but from the racket they were
making--demanding attention and ordering servants around
--Radgar knew at once that Dad was not there.
Again, he had to ask several people, but eventually he
learned that His Majesty had gone in search of the
Queen, who was thought to be at the private cabin.
He sprinted out the door in a spray of mud and
headed up the hill. The trail was not long, but it
climbed steeply through a forest of oaks, maples,
and sycamores, a canopy of leaves shining
gold, bronze, and copper in the rain. He
arrived panting.
The little cabin by the waterfall was the center of his
world, the place he kept his heart. It had never
been formally given to him, but his possessions had
taken over the main room completely and he
slept in the big bed in the loft. When Dad was
away Mom always stayed in the main house, and last
winter Dad had done so, too. Radgar assumed
that they were less concerned about privacy now that they
had grown too old to do the forlegnes thing--
Mom had turned thirty now and Dad was even
older. And whatever they did or said, he would hear
them here just as well as neighbors in the main house
would.
He exploded in through the door, bringing a blast
of fine rain with him. Dad was sitting on the couch,
leaning back with his legs outstretched, all
spattered with mud and looking as weary as a man
who had just spent three hours in the saddle, which he
had. Mom was standing by the fireplace, wringing her
hands.
Radgar yelled, "Dad!" and launched himself
at his father, who yelled in alarm, but caught him
expertly and rolled him into a hug. "Dad,
Dad, you're not going to go and fight the
firedrake, are you?"
Queen Charlotte took three strides to reach
the open door and slammed it with an impact like
thunder. "Radgar! Just look at this!"
Her tone caused her menfolk to break out of their
clinch and sit up in alarm. "What, Mom?"
"This pigsty!"
Bewildered, he peered around. It was true that the
hearth was full of cold cinders and everything else
had a visible coating of gray dust. The
bedclothes on the couch had perhaps been there too
long, but he had changed the sheets upstairs
only a few months ago. Dad had always
forbidden anyone else to come to the cabin, even the
house thralls. She didn't expect
an atheling to do housework, did she?
If she didn't mean that, then perhaps she meant
untidiness? Admittedly there was rather a lot of
stuff about, more than the table and stools could hold.
More than the floor could, either. A lot of it
actually belonged to Aylwin and other friends and he should
tell them to take it away, but everything there that
belonged to him was important: his fishing spears,
various rods, tackle, waders, creel, and
nets; his horse gear, blankets and saddles,
riding boots; two archery targets, three--no
four--bows, a lot of arrows and the makings of many
more, because he had taken up fletching last winter--
staves, goose feathers, glue, straighteners.
... There were also his practice spears, swords,
shields, helmets--just the toy stuff that boys were
allowed to play with before they became cnihtas, but
quite a good collection. ... Other boy things:
balls, wooden puzzles, skittles, climbing
boots, his bird nets and throwing sticks,
animal traps, two sets of antlers, a
couple of hunting knives, a very smelly
bearskin that had not been properly tanned. ...
That could go, but he must keep his collections of
shells and birds' eggs, and the model longship that
he had never finished. ... Too many books. A
thegn didn't need all those books. A thegn
didn't need a box of paints and a lot of
brushes, either, but it was Mom who'd encouraged him
in that, and Dad thought that some of the thirty or so
sketches piled up over there in the corner were quite
good; she was more doubtful. Yes, those could be thrown
out, but not the skis, skates, paddles, or oars!
He wasn't very good on the lute yet, but he
really was going to practice more this winter and he could
certainly throw out a lot of those clothes and shoes
he had grown out of. Most of that rope was good enough
to be useful someday. Brindle's basket could go
because he always climbed into bed with Radgar anyway
and just used it to store chewed bones.
"Well?" demanded the Queen. "What have you
to say?"
Why on earth was she talking about this when
Fyrndagum had erupted and there was a
firedrake loose on Wambseoc? "I need
a bigger room," he said. "Dad, you're not
going--"
But the look in his father's eyes was answer enough.
"No, he is not!" the Queen said. "If
Ufegeat has a problem, let
Ufegeat handle it himself."
"He can't," Dad said softly, rising. "He
has no conjurer capable. A firedrake is the
king's problem, always. I must deal with it because I
am Hlaford Fyrlandum."
"And leave me a widow?" Mom screamed.
"Radgar an orphan? You know the odds when
heroes go against firedrakes. You imagine a
boy of Catter's line can survive in this awful
country without a father to defend him? You think that fat
brother of yours can hold the throne when you die?
Someone else will kill him and take it, and whoever
it is won't leave any young Catterings around
to be a threat."
Radgar stood up also. He was shaking, but that was
all right after such a long ride. Men could shake
when they were very tired. It wasn't fair, though!
Other boys had gotten their fathers back today, but his
had to go away again, and into worse danger than ever.
Dad looked at him wistfully, as if
measuring him against future manhood. "We
Baels don't make war on children."
"Yes, you do!" she yelled.
"Well, not our own children. Not usually. I
survived."
"You had an older brother!"
Dad shrugged. "Yes I did, and maybe now
you understand my loyalty to him."
"You're exhausted," she said. "I haven't
see
n you in months. That volcano's been erupting
for weeks. Surely you don't have to rush away
and--"
"Yes, I do, Charlotte. Eruptions
don't matter. Eruptions happen all the time.
This is a firedrake we're talking about.
It's a monster. It's evil. It will ravage
all of Wambseoc. Every hour counts, every
minute." He flashed Radgar a half smile
and then held out his hands to his wife. "Listen,
both of you. I haven't told you this before. Years
ago Healfwer chanted the hlytm for me, and
my weird is not fire! The firedrake can't
kill me, understand?"
But it might mutilate him horribly,
Radgar thought. Firedrakes had killed his father,
Fyrlaf, and his grandfather Cu`edblaese. Why
wasn't Mom going to him?
"I am Hlaford Fyrlandum," Dad
repeated. "Earl Ufegeat has appealed to me for
help against the firedrake and I cannot
refuse. Radgar, I am going to Weargahlaew
now. I'll leave in about an hour ... don't
want to ride alone ... was going to take
Leofric, but since you're here, will you come with me?
I want to hear all about this wonderful
progress. I'm so proud of you."
Mom's mouth opened and shut without making a
sound, but Radgar's heart burst into flames of
rapture. "Then I won't have to tidy my
room?"
Dad guffawed. "Get out of here, you insolent
young horror! Tell them to saddle up Spedig for
me and one for you. ..."
"He's as tired as you are!" Mother snapped.
"He's only a child! He's--"
"A thegn's son," Dad said. "Have a warm
soak. Dress warmly. Bring a full day's
food because I'm starving and I expect you are.
Blankets, change of clothes. We'll
probably have to spend the night there. Think what
else we'll want. You've got time to eat, so
eat well after you dress. Meet me here in an
hour with the horses."
Bliss! "Yes, sire!" Radgar said,
saluting like a thegn. He went out and then poked his
head back in to say, "I will tidy it, Mom!"
He shut the door quickly, before she could answer.
If he bent down to tighten his garter, his ear would
be level with the knothole. ...
"... need you?" Dad said. "I'm going
crazy. It's been half a year. I have howled
for you every night."
"What?" There was something strange about Mom's
voice. "No raping? No campfire orgies?
No voluptuous Chivian virgins in--"
"Not by me. You know me better than that. I
may be going to die, dearest. You know that, too.
The firedrake will be far more dangerous than the war
ever is. Don't refuse me now, please! I
beg. I plead. I offer anything."
"Give up the firedrake."
"Anything except that."
"I heard that first on our wedding day. It's
always been anything--except. Whenever you want
to play stud horse, you promise me the whole
pasture except the bit you're standing on."
"If I refuse this I won't be the man you
married. I'll be counted craven. New king in
Baelmark, new Earl of Catterstow. Is that
what you want? To be the wife of a
disgraced thegn?"
"Oh! You ...!" It sounded almost like Mom and
yet not Mom. "Isn't that better than being the
widow of a hero? But you know perfectly well I
can never refuse you. Never once since you first
..." Her voice became muffled and then stopped.
They must be going to do the forlegnes thing after
all! At their age? How dis-gust-+!
Radgar strode off down the path.
So Radgar went to meet Healfwer a second
time. Hatburna was actually closer
to Weargahlaew than Waro`edburh was, Dad
said, but it would be a steep climb and misery in this
rain. He went in front on Spedig, leading the
two packhorses; and Radgar brought up the rear
on Steorleas, because Cwealm had already earned his
oats that day. He'd forgotten how Steorleas
tended to walk sideways, stupid mule! In
fact the weather wasn't too bad under the trees,
and once they reached the moorlands they could ride
side by side and talk. Then time passed more quickly
and a man didn't mind so much if the wind and rain
froze his nose and ears off.
Although he said he was in a hurry, Dad made
a detour over to where a group of his ceorls were
repairing sheepfolds, preparing for the winter. He
sent them all home, saying that they didn't have to do
that sort of work in this weather, and they were to tell the
reeve he had said so. That was typical of Dad,
the reason everyone in Baelmark loved him, from the
loetu to the earls.
On the ride in, he'd heard stories about the
progress, and now he demanded a full report
--"Like a ship lord gives me when he comes back
from a foering." He asked questions, but finally he
said something that made Radgar's face burn hot
enough to steam in the rain. "If you can handle yourself as
well as that in public at your age, Son, then
you've got most of what it takes to be a great
king."
"Dad! That's crazy! Flattery--"
"No, I mean it! Impressing your own people is
far more important than banging your enemies.
Obviously you made them laugh as you wanted; they
didn't take offense, which they easily could have
done. I am really proud of you. I'll bet
all the earls were accusing you of building
up support for a challenge to your old man?"
"I swore that would never happen, sire, no
matter how long you kept switching my butt."
Dad laughed and said that was a very good response.
Radgar had actually heard more comments about
Catterstow getting a much better tanist in a
few years, but he didn't repeat those. It was
none of the other earls' business who Dad's
tanist was.
As they climbed higher the mist closed in,
until there was nothing to see, but Dad had grown
up at Hatburna and knew every coney track in
the hills.
Radgar wanted to hear about firedrakes.
"You probably know as much as I do, Son.
This one appeared last night and seems to be heading
for the coast. Healfwer must know more about what makes
a drake than anyone, but he usually won't
talk. Fire elementals, yes. They're an
essential ingredient. Plus spirits of earth--or
perhaps air. And there may be more to it even than that.
The one that Hatstan spawned sixty years ago,
that killed your great-grandfather Cu`edblaese,
looked like a great bird. And this one's like a
bull, they say."
"It looks like a bull?"
"Or behaves like a bull. I hope I can
head it off before it destroys the Nor`eddael
town."
"And drive it into the sea?" That was what the
songs said.
"Or lure it into the sea." Dad laughed
oddly. "I'm sure I'll run faster away from
it than toward it. I'll see what Healfwer
suggests."
"Is that why you're going to see him? For
advice?" The man was madder than a pondful of
loons. Radgar still had nightmares about that
hideous old cripple, and it was more than two
years since he and Aylwin went foering
into Weargahlaew.
"Partly. Mainly because I want him to ward me
against fire." Dad pulled a face. "Let's
talk about something else! I think we'll reach
Weargahlaew before sunset. You want Healfwer
to chant the hlytm for you?"
Was that why he had been invited along? Why was
Dad suggesting it now?--because he thought Radgar was
grown-up enough to handle the knowledge of his doom? Or because this
might be his last chance to ask Healfwer
on Radgar's behalf, his last visit
to Weargahlaew?
Did a man really want to know his weird? It
might make him a coward in some circumstances.
But it should make him braver in others. Radgar
swallowed and said, "Yes, please."
The trail narrowed to cross a steep face
then, so the conversation was interrupted. He had the
uneasy feeling that he had missed something and tried
to puzzle it out while the rain dribbled down his
neck and soaked through his hat; and all the time he was
wishing he was riding Cwealm, who was as
surefooted as a squirrel. Steorleas
definitely wasn't. Eventually Radgar
remembered Dad telling him that warding only worked
once and you couldn't be warded against more than one
element. So ...?
So if Dad wanted Healfwer to ward him against
fire now, then Dad had never been warded against
whatever his bane was, because he'd said his weird
wasn't fire. Why in the world not? Well, there was
one element of the eight that a man would probably not
want to be warded against, even if he knew it
would be his bane.
The drizzle had turned to whirling snowflakes
by the time they reached Baelstede and the defile leading
into Weargahlaew. By then Radgar would have been
falling asleep in the saddle had he not been so
chilled that his very bones were shivering. Of course he
had to dismount when they reached the tunnel, so then
Steorleas decided to be awkward and the
packhorses joined in. Dad told him to lead
Spedig on ahead as an example and managed
to coax the rest of the train into following by luring them
with oats. There wasn't anything Dad wasn't