by Dave Duncan
Fritz now occupied the chair to the left of the fireplace, the place of honor. His doublet was still open, the red mark just visible under all the chest hair.
Burgomaster Johein had gone limping up to bed, hunched over in pain, a broken, ruined man. The dowager sniffled into a lace handkerchief, being comforted by Captain Tiger. Marla was still on her feet, hovering in the background. Gwill and Tickenpepper sat in bemused silence.
The candles had blown out. With sunlight streaming in through a single window, the room seemed darker than it had in the night. Shadows lurked everywhere. I had the vaguely dizzy feeling that comes from a night without sleep.
"It makes sense to me," I said. "Although there are a few details missing."
Frieda had described her parents for us. She had even produced a sketch of them, made by some wandering artist in return for a meal. They had been a handsome couple, but solid Volkslander peasant stock, emphatically not Sweet-rose and Zig.
The clay dove lay in Fritz's great hands. He was staring at it in bewilderment, and so far he had not spoken a word since the dowager knelt to him. If I really tried, I thought I could find a resemblance to Zig there somewhere—something about the mouth, perhaps? With a little more effort, I could even see a likeness to Ven, a much younger Ven than I had ever known—Ven's statues, I mean, of course. Ven died almost two hundred years ago, didn't he?
Then Fritz looked up and scowled at me.
"If this is another of your sleazy tricks, storyteller, then I am going to break your neck and stamp you into the slush."
"No tricks. I had no intention of deeding you a kingdom in exchange for your flea-bitten mongrel. Have you never heard voices in this room?"
"No, I have not!" The scowl became a furious glare.
"You don't have to shout about it. Sure? Never wondered who kept your inn safe from brigands? Well, you can find out soon enough. Take Verl off where we can't overhear you. She will speak to you, I promise."
He set his big jaw.
"Humor him," the soldier said. "We all want to know."
He rose reluctantly. "Captain, will you see he doesn't steal anything while I am gone?"
"That I will, lad. Sire, I mean."
Fritz snorted disbelievingly. Still holding the tiny clay bird as if it were an egg, he stamped over to the door. The wind slammed it behind him. His shadow passed the window. For a moment we waited, then we heard his voice rumble in the distance. Nothing else except water dripping from the eaves and the wind in the trees … or was there a faint cooing of doves, also?
"Still thawing," I told the silence. "You will try the pass today, Captain?"
"I suppose so. We should leave as soon as possible, as long as the weather holds." The soldier looked to Frieda. "But will your brother consent to leave the inn?"
Now there was a startling thought! Might Fritz refuse the summons?
"Depends what the god is telling him right now," I said. "If you catch a ship from the Winelands … but you can't get through the passes to Hool before spring, anyway. I don't suppose the kingdom will accept him until he has been authenticated by the oracle."
Tiger glanced at the dowager and then smiled. "Her ladyship's word will carry weight, I imagine."
"Kraw will verify him for the families," she mumbled into her handkerchief.
"That's true, I suppose. And he looks like a king!"
He did? Well, he was certainly big enough—king size.
"He looks marvelous!" the dowager snapped, suddenly more her old self. "A wonderful king, and such a wonderful grandson!"
Poor Fritz.
"But what about the inn?" The soldier turned to Frieda again.
"There's a man in Gilderberg wanted to buy it last year, sir, when our parents … Master Tickenpepper, could you … er, are you going on south, sir, or are you going home again?"
The notary mumbled, flustered.
"He's going home," Marla interposed. "I'm sure Johein has lost all interest in visiting Holy Hool." She laughed.
"So am I!" Gwill said, a gleam in his eye. "Going north, I mean. I need an attorney to lay charges of, er, battery and theft, I suppose. Are you still retained by the burgomaster, Notary, or can you take on another client?"
"I shall need to confirm my status with his honor, Master Gwill. If I cannot act on your behalf myself, I can recommend others who can."
"An open-and-shut case?"
"No, I wouldn't say that."
"What he means, Tanglepooper," Marla said, "is that Johein and I will do anything at all to stop him from going to Schlosbelsh and spreading stories. Isn't that right, minstrel?"
"Something along those lines, mistress."
Marla laughed. "How much to shut your mouth?"
"Name a figure."
"That's up to my dear hubby. How about that gold chain he wears?"
Gwill blinked. "I believe that would persuade me to continue my journey south."
"And stay there?"
"Certainly."
"I'll go and talk to old Moneybags, then." She sauntered over to the staircase. "If he proves difficult, I'll show him a tattoo or two." She went up, sniggering at her own wit.
Gwill and I exchanged pleased grins. Even Frieda and the soldier were amused. Our fat friend had married a lot more than he expected, and he was obviously going to stay married.
Then Fritz's shadow passed the window again.
He came in with the air of a man who has just suffered a stunning shock. It takes an outstanding liar to fake pallor. It isn't even easy to make your hands shake convincingly, or shuffle across the floor as if you had an invisible sack of meal on your shoulders. Make that two sacks in his case. Three, maybe. So I don't think he was lying in what followed.
He laid the figurine back on the shelf, hesitated, bowed his head to it for a moment. Then he turned around slowly and looked us over. There were tears in his eyes, but that might have been from the wind. His blond coloring made him seem younger than his years; had he not been so huge, he would have looked like a mere boy.
"Omar … We are more than quits. I withdraw all the things I said."
"Don't bother, Sire. Most of them were well deserved."
A satisfying trace of the old Fritzian glare returned. "Very well, I won't. I still want to break your neck, but I'll try not to. She spoke to me."
We waited.
He shrugged. "Frieda … We're not … I was adopted. They never told me."
"Or me." She pulled away from my arm and went to him. They hugged. He kept her by him and addressed us again.
"I am the son of Siegfried of Holtzenwold and Lady Sweet-rose of Verl."
"Out with it!" I cried. "What's the story?"
"Sire?" Fritz said menacingly.
"I beg your pardon, your Majesty! Sire, of course."
"Better! She told me this much: They were coming north to the Volkslander. My father had family here. True-valor was still with them—her loyal servant, his friend. Their party was caught in an avalanche. True-valor fought loose, then he and some of the others began digging. They found the baby, me. He decided to go for help and take me with him lest I freeze to death in the storm. He reached this inn."
Frieda: "And Mother took the baby?"
"Yes. And Verl was bundled up with me, of course. There was no help to be had here, no guests in residence. It was the very night you were born. Father would not leave his wife and new child unattended, understandably. True-valor went back alone. He was caught in another avalanche."
For a while there was only the wind in the trees and the drip of water …
"My daughter died, also?" The dowager's voice was barely a whisper.
Fritz took a moment to answer. "No. She and Siegfried were dug out and went south again with the others. In the spring, they came north by another pass, having given me up for lost."
"She is still alive?"
"Verl told me to tell you that Sweet-rose found happiness and you are to search no more."
Holtzenwold was one pla
ce I had missed in the summer. I wondered why.
"She had more sons? Daughters?"
"That is all I am permitted to say, my lady!"
Obviously the god had told Fritz more, much more. He spoke softly, but already he seemed to have taken on some royal authority. The old woman shrank back in her chair and was silent. If Fritz's mother was still alive, with a husband and near-grown children, she would have little desire to drag herself back to the land of her birth. Sweet-rose had always known her own mind, and I could assume that her god knew it equally well.
"I was told to accompany you to Verlia and promised that in the spring, Hool will acknowledge me as rightful king of the realm." Fritz looked down at his adoptive sister in wonder. "We must just abandon the inn, dear, I suppose. It seems wrong, but we have a kingdom now."
"Oh, no!" Frieda pulled free from his arm. "Mother and Father would not approve of that! And besides, suppose Hool rejects you? I shall wait here until I receive an official summons to your coronation."
"I can't leave you alone here!"
She laughed shakily. "It's my inn, not yours! Your kingdom, not mine."
"You will always be welcome, and you will always be my sister. Lady Frieda! I shall deed you a royal estate!"
"No, you won't! I shall stay in the background and choose a suitable wife for you. I shall stop you being pestered by all the beautiful gold-digging palace ladies."
He chuckled. "We'll see about that! Meanwhile, we are still dutiful hosts. We must offer our guests breakfast."
"Kings don't wait on people!" Frieda said sharply. "You go and pack. Omar will help me, won't you, Omar?"
I felt a twinge of delight. "I should love to assist you, beloved! My specialty is sautéed haunch of camel with damsons."
"Can you fry eggs? Come along. Go and pack, your Majesty!"
"What do I have worth packing?" he asked, smiling. The smile was thin, though. Either the sky and all the stars had just fallen on the innkeeper, or he had just embarked on a very large deception.
Later I watched them all depart, standing at the door with my arm around lovely Frieda. I had promised to remain and help her run the inn until we heard from Verlia. Snowy peaks towered over the forested valley, gleaming under a blue sky. But mountain weather can change in minutes. With any luck, we should be stormbound for weeks at a time, just the two of us. I was looking forward to that.
Burgomaster Johein and Mistress Marla rode away to the north, with Master Tickenpepper following at a respectful distance on his palfrey. I heard Marla's voice lecturing until they were mere specks on the scenery.
Captain Tiger drove the carriage off along the southward trail, bearing Lady Rose-dawn and Rosalind, her maid. With them, also, went a certain clay pigeon and Minstrel Gwill, resplendently bedecked in a chain of solid gold links, plus Fritz of Verl, rightwise born king of Verlia.
When silence returned to the valley, I planted a kiss on Frieda's fair cheek.
"Just think," I said. "His descendants will rule forever! An awesome conception!"
"And I suppose you will drop in on them in future centuries and tell them tales of their forbears?"
I frowned at the unseemly shadow of doubt on her lovely face. "Just because I have been around a long time does not mean I shall be around forever."
"And we have only your word for how long you have been around, haven't we? Do I really want to be friends with a man who is thousands of years old?"
"There is no substitute for experience. Shall I demonstrate?"
"Not just now." She tried to pull free of my arm, without success.
I nibbled her ear. "I hope Fritz keeps a proper respect for the bird. She is a hard deity to serve. His ancestors, Juss and Ven, learned that, and their mother White-thorn, also. His uncle Star-seeker discovered the truth the hard way. She is a dangerous dove."
"Apparently. Why would the god have brought such disaster on the royal family?"
"I told you I never speculate on the minds of gods. But perhaps she had made a mistake. Sea-jewel, for example. Her son Just-blade was a poor king, and Star-seeker seemed fated to be worse. So Verl may have wanted to introduce new blood. Or perhaps she had grown bored, after a century shut up in a palace, and wanted to go adventuring again, as she had with me. She must have enjoyed her vacation in the Hunters' Haunt."
Frieda snorted, a very unattractive sound. "You have answers for everything, don't you?"
Again I was piqued. "What does that mean?"
"I realize that the dove was hidden behind the hourglass. You didn't by any chance go snooping this spring, did you? And find it then?"
"Lady Rose-dawn identified her as the genuine Verl," I protested, hurt by this lack of confidence. "Do you think I would have wasted my entire summer skulking around the northern marches had I known that what I sought was here at the inn? And there is the birthmark."
"When you broke into the stable and Fritz caught you at it—he had his shirt off, as I recall?"
"I did not know that birthmarks were important then! I remind you that it was Lady Rose-dawn who brought up the subject of birthmarks. She identified that, too."
"That old witch can't see her hand in front of her nose."
"Frieda, my love!" I wailed. "Are you saying that your brother is an imposter? That he was lying when he said the god spoke to him? How can he possibly hope to deceive Holy Hool?"
She sighed. "I don't know! Hool may decide to make the best of it. Even gods have to improvise sometimes, I suppose. Given such an opportunity, Fritz would be a fool not to try it, wouldn't he?"
I sighed at her lack of trust—it was very unbecoming in one so young and innocent. "It has been a very long night, my delicious edelweiss blossom! Why don't we creep upstairs to bed?"
"Bed!?"
"Why not? The saintly Osmosis of Sooth taught the faithful that there are many kinds of love, and you should always take what you can get."
"Sisterly affection is my specialty. Omar, the cows have to be milked right away, and you must fetch water from the well so I can do the dishes. There is wood to be chopped, floors to clean, butter to churn, meal to grind, stables to muck out, a pig to be slaughtered, skinned, and dressed, bacon to smoke, chickens to feed, horses to groom, and malt to brew. I need wood and water brought to the copper and the laundry must be hung out."
I howled until the echoes howled in sympathy. "But by the time I have done a tenth of that, then there will be more guests arriving!"
"A hotelier's work is never done. Why do you think my parents never had time to produce more than one child? Start with the cows."
There's the story, milords!—the innkeeper's tale. Not an untrue word. That's how I came to the Hunters' Haunt. I pray you to observe that our tariff is still quoted in Gilderburg thalers. Now, may I pour you some more of our celebrated mulled ale?
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Postscript
The tale of the wonder horse Twak is based on the story of Clever Hans, a horse in Germany who exhibited the same abilities. I wouldn't want you to think I made it up.
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