Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

Now and again one of the Riders came to bear us company for a short while—always the mate of one of the brides. Then I noted that Herrel did not come so, nor had I seen him since we rode out of camp, though Halse passed twice down the line. Once when the bear-man slacked pace and Solfinna jogged ahead, I spoke, perhaps recklessly, but as I thought was only natural. “My lord, where rides Herrel?”

There was that derisive smile on his face as he made answer courteously enough, but with such under mockery as to be an unseen blow.

“He rides rear guard, my lady. Shall I tell him you wish words with him? Doubtless some message of importance?”

“No. Just tell him all is well—”

Those red eyes searching me, trying to read my thoughts. Could these sorcerers in truth read thoughts? I did not believe so.

“You are wise not to draw him from his duty. Hyron believes him now best employed for the service of the company. And we must rest upon the best defences we can muster—”

Words innocent enough, but so delivered that a threat ran beneath their smooth surface. And now Halse, in a low voice, added more:

“I would have nay-said Herrel could gain a bride. Has he told you that in this company he is the wrong-handed, the limper? But destiny is right after all, now we consider him well matched—” till he smiled, and it was enough to make one dread all smiles.

“I thank you, my lord.” From some last bulwark of pride and defiance I summoned those words. “Can any one truly say what a man is, or may come to be? If cloak-spell united us, then you will not miscall your own power. I am content, if my lord is also.” A lie, and a He he knew, yet one I would continue to cling to.

The method of our pairing from the bridal dale had been such that we knew only he whose cloak we had chosen—knew him? That was not my case certainly. But as to his fellow Riders, what did any of us know? My companions were so bound in illusion woven to hold them apart from the truth, that they would accept any seeing. Me—I was so torn with fear and suspicion that perhaps I saw awry also. Yet Halse I did not like, nor did I take kindly to the gaze Hyron turned upon me. And I had felt the animosity of those others last night.

What of Herrel? Yes, what of Herrel? Our first meeting when he had taken me to wife, in name, by the cloak about my shoulders...the night when I had been willed by another’s ill wishing to wake and see him as he could be and was, upon occasion. Last night when I had watched him go into battle and heard the horror of that fight—

I had come to our first meeting prepared to accept an alien—or had I really? Can anyone accept what they do not know? Now after testing I was as faint-hearted as Marimme, if able to conceal it better. Was Herrel a beast who could put on the semblance of a man for his purposes, or a man putting on the beast? It was this question ever seesawing at the back of my mind which made my flesh shiver and cringe from his touch, made me rejoice he was not my mate in truth. Kildas, Solfinna, the rest, they harboured no doubts. I believed they were all wives as I was not. But which husbanded them—beast and bird—or human body?

“To have the true sight, my lady,” Halse’s mount crowded closer to my mare; his voice dropped lower still, “can be a grievous thing. You do not belong here.”

“If I do not, my lord, this is a very late hour to make such a discovery. And I think you do not give me much credit—”

He shrugged. “It may foe, my lady, that we do you wrong. At least you have not spilled your doubts to these, your sisters. For that we give you due credit. And I shall give your message to Herrel.” He wheeled his horse and was gone, leaving me with the feeling that I had done very ill to give him any reason to seek out Herrel.

I urged my mare on and caught up with Kildas, suddenly having a dislike for riding alone.

“Harl says that Halse is sharp tongued.” she commented. “Though he does not seem to lack in proper courtesy. He resents it that he did not win a bride.”

“Perhaps his cloak was not eye-catching enough.”

She laughed. “Do not tell him that! He is one who fancies that in most companies he is the first to be noted. It is true he is very handsome—”

Handsome? To me he was the bear, danger covered with a deceptively clumsy skin.

“A fine face is not everything.”

“Yes. And I do not care much for Halse. He ever smiles and looks content, but I do think he is. Gillan, I know not what Herrel has told you, but do not speak freely—too freely—with Halse. Harl has said that there is old trouble between him and Herrel, and since the bridals it has grown worse. For Herrel obtained what he would have—”

“Me?” I laughed, startled by her speech which was so far from the truth I knew.

“Perhaps not you, but a bride. He spoke much before our coming as to what his luck would be, and then to have it dashed so, it has been as a burr within his tunic. The other Riders, they have not forgotten his boasts, and they lead him to remember them from time to time. It is odd,” she glanced at me, “before we came I thought of the Riders as all alike, gathered into a pack which thought and acted as one. Instead they are as all men, each having thoughts, faults, dreams and fears of his own.”

“Harl taught you thus?”

She smiled, a very different smile from that which curved Halse’s lips, deeply happy. “Harl has taught me many things—” She was lost in a dream again, a dream which I could not enter.

And so the long day passed and I saw naught of Herrel—though whether that was by his own design or the will of others. I did not know. We came at last to a long and narrow valley. Its entrance was masked with trees and brush, so thick that I would have believed there was no opening, yet he who was our guide wound a serpent’s route through which we filed in a long line. The wall of vegetation gave way to an open space walled with steep rock cliffs. Down one was a lace of ice marking the passage of water flowing away in an ice encased brook. Before us the defile was a slit which was half choked by rock falls from above.

There were journey tents standing—those before us in the advance guard had made good use of time. Twilight was fast falling, but green lamps winked at us and there was a fire. At that moment it all looked as welcoming to me as the safe interior of any great hall—rough though that might be.

But when we would dismount the man who came to aid me wore a wolf helm.

“Herrel?”

“The rear guard has not yet come in, my lady.” A smooth answer, aptly given.

And the truth was that I could not have honestly said that it would have lightened the burden of my fear had the cunningly wrought body of a cat over-topped the face looking up to mine.

That weariness which appeared always to hold off while one was in a Rider’s saddle, fell upon me as I made my way, stiff limbed, to the warmth of the fire. Loneliness closed me off from the others, the loneliness of knowledge. I could no longer hold off the thought that I had been left no return. A choice, made too lightly and in overconfidence had long since wiped away a bridge between present and past—the future my mind flinched from considering.

Night—sleep—but I dared not sleep! Sleep held dreams—not as Kildas and the others dreamed by day, but the other, the dark side of that shield.

“Gillan?”

I turned my head stiffly. Herrel was coming from the picket line. And in my loneliness I saw a man, a man to whom I might have some small meaning. My hands went out as I answered:

“Herrel!”

“It is well with you?”

“A day in the saddle is not like unto one spent in a bower.” I feared. The impulse of welcome which had made me move a step forward was a break in the wall of my fortress, imperilling me.