Arcolin took Arneson into his office while Calla finished with Jamis and readied herself for dinner.
“We didn’t expect you this soon, my lord. Congratulations on your new title,” Arneson said. “If I’d known, I’d have had the recruits parade for you.”
“Kieri used to come back north only within a few tendays of their departure for the south,” Arcolin said. “But though I’m required to attend Autumn Court, I see no reason to stay in Vérella through the winter when I could be up here. If I am assigned to the Royal Council, I might stay, but not now. How was it this year?”
“We’ve had no real problems,” Arneson said. He gave a concise account of the recruit cohort’s progress, his assessment of Kaim’s potential and then asked, “Any word at all from your Sergeant Stammel?”
“No. As the dragon and Stammel’s own letter told me, he has left and does not want to be found. The dragon assures me he went to a safe place, a healthy place, and has settled into village life there. The dragon would not tell me more.”
“I’m sorry,” Arneson said.
“I was … but now I’m relieved. If he’s happy where he is, that’s enough for me.” Arcolin took a swallow of water. “How are the gnomes settling in? Do they visit?”
Arneson shook his head. “No, my lord. Once they’d moved in over there, they vanished. We never see them. Of course, we don’t do maneuvers in those hills, as you requested. No orc problems at all, nothing. There’s a peculiar line in the vegetation, as if someone mowed a path short; I suppose that’s the boundary line you told me about.”
“Yes. You’ve heard I arrived with a gnome as well as a wife—”
“Yes, my lord. I wondered if your—if these gnomes had sent an emissary to meet you in Vérella.”
“No. It’s a long story.” As he told Arneson about it, Arcolin thought how incredible it was—a thief meeting a gnome in Fin Panir, then showing up running errands for one of the junior captains in Valdaire. “And then,” he said, “Dattur told me this was his tribe and I was their prince.”
“Prince!”
“Yes. I had to tell the king, of course. I was just a count then, in the court of Tsaia. Luckily, the king thought it was amusing.”
“Not the gnomes, though, I’ll warrant,” Arneson said. “What do you think will happen with them, now that you’re back?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been practicing gnomish with Dattur, of course, and trying to learn what their Law is. Normally, a gnome prince does not leave the stone-mass in which they live, but I must. I’ll need to designate a leader for them.”
“What are things like in the south?” Arneson asked.
“Do you miss it?” Arcolin asked without answering the question.
Arneson stared at his hands a long moment. “Sometimes. The smell of the orchards … the foods … and the markets … I have no complaints, my lord. I am fortunate to be here and have this position. But Valdaire—you know yourself—the morning light on the mountains—”
“Oh, yes,” Arcolin said. “You know—I think I told you—I’m from the south originally myself. Not Valdaire, but I love Valdaire. And this is very quiet.”
“I’ve come to love this, too,” Arneson said. “I like the quiet—and it’s never as hot. The people here have been wonderful to me; they understand me, and I understand them. And I do enjoy working with recruits.”
“Has Valichi dropped in to give you the benefit of his wisdom?”
“Once or twice, early on. The last time, he smacked my shoulder and said it was high time I made my own traditions, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“That’s good. Val was recruit captain so long, I was afraid he might nag you too much.” Arcolin took a breath. “The situation in the south has worsened—not so much while I was there as what I heard from a courier some days after I arrived in Vérella. The new Duke of Immer abducted Andressat’s youngest son—” He told the rest of it; Arneson listened intently. “King Mikeli is concerned, of course, and I understand the Guild League even more so, as you may imagine. By report, the man has powers similar to those of magelords. Whether they come from within or by blood magery, we do not know. I will need those recruits next year for certain.”
“Yes, my lord, I understand.”
“I must speak with Count Halar again before taking Kaim down there. It’s likely to be a bloody year.”
“If I may—send the lad home for Midwinter. He hasn’t asked, but a chance to be with his family for a while may clarify for him and his family both what they really want for him.” Arneson rubbed his chin. “He’s a good lad: a hard worker, obedient, no trouble, and should make a good officer someday. But I’d say a year young to see the worst of war in the south if that’s what’s coming.”
“Will he sour with another year up here? Would you have him?”
“Yes, of course I’d have him. From his side … I don’t know. That age … he’s matured a lot, seeing what the training is really like, but for all that we don’t recruit them that young.”
A tap at the door; when Arcolin looked up, Calla was there. “I put Jamis to bed, and the cook’s called dinner. Shall we eat here or—”
“Downstairs,” Arcolin said. “Captain, this is my wife—and this is Captain Arneson, who commands the recruit cohort.”
Arneson stood. “My lady—my honor.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Captain,” Calla said, coming forward. “By your accent you’re from the south, I think?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Arneson paraded the recruit cohort after supper, and Arcolin inspected them, finding—as usual in this stage of training—many things to comment on. They looked much like any intake and would be ready, he was sure, for their first campaign season in the spring.
As he came into his quarters, he heard Calla’s voice from the kitchen—she was chatting with the cook, and both sounded relaxed and happy. He went on upstairs. Servants had removed the bathing things; the fire burned bright, and candles gave even more light. The room no longer bore any trace of Kieri except the big bed itself—and with its new furnishings, it might have been any bed.
“You are gone, bright ones,” he said to the memories of Tamar and the children engendered in this bed. “Be at peace. Our joy will not diminish your memory.”
That night, when Calla nestled against him, his last doubts vanished; his past life made sense, the decisions that had led to this. He knew peace and security could vanish, he knew life might still bring them both pain, but he was not ungrateful enough to ignore this respite. Even the dragon, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep, might count him wise in that small way.
Next morning, Arcolin breakfasted with his recruit captain; Calla had, she told him, a busy day planned for herself and Jamis. He himself planned to ride out to the hills with Dattur to meet the gnomes. When he came to the forecourt with Dattur, he found the estvin and four gnomes waiting for him. They wore gray with an elaborate pattern of braid running down the front of their jackets. He could read the gnomish now: Arcolinfulk. His name. His people.
“Greetings, rockbrothers,” Arcolin said in gnomish. The gnomes bowed, and he bowed in return. “It is my honor to see you again in this place. I have studied your speech with the help of Dattur.” He gestured to Dattur.
“That one kteknik,” the estvin said in Common. “It is not to wear the tribe’s garments.”
Dattur took two steps forward, confronting the estvin. “My prince names me belonging. Aldonfulk accepted him as prince and on his word gave me clothes. And you know me, Frakkur.”
“Name forbidden.” The estvin looked up at Arcolin. “This one kteknik.”
“You were all kteknik by Dragon’s word,” Arcolin said, in gnomish again. “You had no stone-right. I gave stone-right. Now you wear a uniform naming your prince. Who is your prince?”
The estvin prostrated himself, as did the others, once more kissing Arcolin’s boot. Dattur, to his surprise, kissed his other boot. “Lord, it is that the lord Duk
e is our prince.”
“Yes,” Arcolin said. He wondered how they’d learned of his elevation, but this was not the time to ask. “And as your prince I say none of you are kteknik, nor is this gnome I met on my travels, Dattur, who was of your tribe before.”
Still holding Arcolin’s boot, the estvin said, “This one was cast out by our prince that was.”
“And restored to the Law by your prince who is,” Arcolin said. “Is it that the estvin argues with the Law?”
“No, my lord.” The estvin kissed his boot again and backed away before standing. “As the prince commands.”
“Then welcome one returned from a long journey and much danger, one who has performed great deeds and services for his prince,” Arcolin said. “I bid you accept him once more.”
The estvin bowed to Dattur, who returned the bow; each of the others performed the same ritual.
“I would come to you and see the progress you have made,” Arcolin said. “It was my purpose to do so today, in hopes of finding that you prospered.”
“It is our joy,” the estvin said. “We have prospered indeed in your favor, O prince.”
On the ride to the west hills, Arcolin watched as the little procession of gnomes jogged along, covering the ground as fast as his long-legged chestnut could walk. As they neared the hills, he saw a change in the outline and a beaten path leading alongside a stream, then, closer, the narrow line in the turf, a slash through brush. When they reached the entrance, one of the gnomes took charge of Arcolin’s horse, and Dattur followed the others underground. Arcolin pulled the scarf Aldonfulk had given him from his saddlebag and hung it around his neck. The estvin bowed twice, then led Arcolin within.
The rest of that day he spent with the gnomes, partly under stone. They apologized for the roughness of the excavation so far, but to Arcolin it looked amazingly finished. “The great hall we have not begun,” the estvin said. “We will need more workers, and we wished to ask your preference for it. If you will be indwelling with us, or not. That which is large enough for us would not be large for you.”
Arcolin chose his words carefully. “I would do my duty to you, my people, but I must also do my duty to my king in Vérella and my other people, who are spread from here to Valdaire and beyond. I cannot therefore indwell with you as your prince ought. By the Law, I must be your prince; you can have no other, is it not?”
“It is so,” the estvin said.
“Then by the Law, I must appoint one of you to be a guardian until I return. While I am here this winter, I will come often to you, and learn more of each of you, before making that appointment.” Dattur had suggested this. Arcolin thought Dattur, with his experience of the outside world, would be the best guardian, but he realized that imposing an exile on those remaining might cause trouble.
The estvin bowed.
“Now I will hear a report of the tribe,” Arcolin said. “Births and deaths, illnesses and injuries, recoveries, what stores you have of food, and so on.”
“None have died, O prince,” the estvin said. “One babe has been added to the tribe but will have no name until Midwinter, if it please the prince. It is the custom.” The estvin clapped his hands, and one of the others brought a book. “The records, O prince, and if the prince cannot read—”
“But slowly,” Arcolin said. “The symbols are still new to me.”
“Then I will assist as the prince asks,” the estvin said.
The gnomes had planted seeds from the grain he had sent with them in the spring and harvested that grain and wild grasses as well. They had snared rabbits and other small game—every one entered in the book—and begun the cultivation within the excavation of things Arcolin guessed were edible fungi of different types. Not all wore the new uniforms, the estvin explained, eyes cast down, as there had not been time to grow the … whatever it was they made cloth from. Arcolin decided he did not want to know. The women and children, and some of the men, still wore the cloth Arcolin had given them, but all who met the outside world went properly attired.
“You have done well,” Arcolin said, when the account ended.
“It is by the prince’s mercy,” the estvin said. “It is a great debt.”
“It is no debt to a prince, to have the people prosper,” Arcolin said. Once more he thought, as he had the previous winter, of what might have been … gnome children dead in the snow.
The estvin’s brow wrinkled. “It is strange—”
“For both of us,” Arcolin said. “But not a bad thing.”
“No.” The estvin sighed. “My prince … when you think of someone to be your … your hesktak … you should consider that … that one who came with you. Datturnaknitunak.”
“Advise me,” Arcolin said.
“It is hard to say. It is … he was … he was should have died, but … but his living … it is not that kapristi think luck, but favor of Law is not luck.”
That was sufficiently tangled that it took Arcolin a long moment to figure it out. “He told me he was taken away and left—”
“Yes. One who died later took him. The prince before ordered it. Ordered not kill but leave to die. Datturnaknitunak is—was—one seeks truth. Prince before said not looking, not talking. Datturnaknitunak would look, would tell. Not … obedient to prince. Said to Law.”
“Did you know this before Dragon came?” Arcolin asked.
“Some.” The estvin looked down. “It is shame. We believed—we thought we believed—the prince spoke Law. Fear ruled, not Law. So … you should choose him.”
“Would fear rule you again?” Arcolin asked.
“I … not know.”
Arcolin nodded. “You know I am a man of war. You know I understand courage?”
“Yes, prince.”
“When you came to me last winter, you were afraid.”
“Yes, prince.”
“But you came. You were afraid of Dragon, and of me, but you came. And when I offered refuge, you were afraid, were you not?”
“Yes, prince, but—but no other choices.”
“Always other choices,” Arcolin said, a direct quote from their Law. The estvin looked up at him. “Always other choices. You could have chosen death, but you chose life and the risks of life. I say to you: that was courage. Every one of you who came—you kapristi and your kapristinya and the littlest of the children among you—you all had courage greater than your fear. You came into a human place, among humans who had not the Law, and lived among us from winter into spring and then moved here, to new stone, stone you knew had been infested with orcs. That is courage greater than fear.”
“The prince is merciful.”
“The prince intends to be just,” Arcolin said. Quoting again from the Law, he went on. “Kapristin deal not in mercy, but in justice—is it not so?”
“It is so!” The estvin’s eyes were shining now.
“The prince will not have confusion about this,” Arcolin said. “For the Law is the Law, and even a human—even one such as I, newly learning the Law—can recognize justice. Because the prince is human, the prince will need what we call a judicar to guide the prince in matters of Law, until such time as the prince has learned it perfectly, but the prince will rule.”
“Yes, O prince!”
“And for this, the prince will also take the words of the estvin into account. For a prince who must travel abroad needs both a steward—a hesktak—and an advisor in the Law. And it is in my mind that they should not be the same person.”
“It is so, my prince.”
Dattur reappeared with the other gnomes who were in gray. All bowed.
“Would you see everyone?” the estvin asked.
“Not today,” Arcolin said, hoping that was the right answer. “I must go, to prepare for holding court for the humans of my realm tomorrow. Perhaps I should wait to greet you all until all are formally dressed.”
The estvin bowed again. “That would be appropriate, O prince. The cloth you gave us was indeed appreciated, but we are
most comfortable in the clothes of our princedom.”
“I will come every fiveday to see what your needs are,” Arcolin said. “If a need arises suddenly, send someone to the stronghold. I do have other news to share. Unrest in Aarenis seems certain to spread north—” He explained about the regalia, the Duke of Immer’s ambitions, and the return of active magery among some families in the north. “Duke Verrakai and I think it possible he might come up the Honnorgat as well; the Aldonfulk prince might agree to help defend the pass above Valdaire, but only humans remain to guard the Honnorgat. You should be safe up here—the Duke of Immer wants the regalia, not our cold hills, and there will be recruits and veterans to defend the villages and strongholds.”
The gnomes, as he’d expected, did not react. “We grow stronger,” the estvin said. As Arcolin turned to leave, the estvin said, “O prince—will it please you to let us keep your stole in a place of honor? It should not be seen in the light of day.”
Arcolin lifted it off and handed it to the estvin, who bowed again. “When you come next, O prince, you will have your throne.”
Next day, Arcolin met with the village councils of both Duke’s East and Duke’s West, settled those disputes the councils had set aside for his return, and told them about the possible threat. Veterans who had retired after Siniava’s War nodded. “Always thought he’d be trouble,” one said. “But we’ll give him trouble if he comes up here.”
As winter deepened, Arcolin traveled to Burningmeed to hold Duke’s Court and then to visit his neighbor to the east. They discussed the possibility of a southern invasion up the Honnorgat. Arcolin kept careful watch for any signs of magery in his domain, but saw none other than the gnomes’ continuing use of rock magery in their new stone-right.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Chaya, Lyonya
By autumn, both elves and humans had become accustomed to the king’s ability to generate an elvenhome. It was not so large as the Lady’s had been, though no one knew if it would expand to that size in time. With practice and Arian’s help, Kieri had found a way to damp the light completely at night. He suspected it was not the way Orlith would have taught him, but none of the elves remaining in Lyonya knew how—or admitted it. He could make it more permeable, as well, but he could not lessen its effect on his subjects.
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