Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

“It may have begun so.” he answered me. “But there was another reason, which came because you are you, and no maid of the Dales. From the first, the rest were one with those whose cloaks they wore in spell. You were not held so. They feared that. There was a chance, a last chance to bind you to us. When that failed, then you were open to what they would do.”

“A chance—?”

His voice was low, and I was glad he was behind me, that he did not see my confusion when he made answer.

“That night in the Safekeep, you refused me. Had it been otherwise, then all their spells could not have prevailed.”

I broke the silence which followed. “Then you named me witch, Herrel. Was that out of anger—or out of knowledge?”

“Anger? What right had I to anger? I do not take by force that which one chooses to withhold from me—for such must be freely given and in liking, or it has no meaning, not in my sight, nor that of Neave. I named you as what I think you are. Being so—you could do no else than say me nay—”

“Witch.” I repeated thoughtfully. “But I am not learned in aught but healing lore, Herrel. That is a craft, yet, but owes nothing to sorcery. Had I been what you named me, then never could I have dwelt at the Abbey-stead. They would have expelled me within an hour of my coming. The Flames and sorcery had naught to do with one another, and the Dames of the Abbey-stead would have thought themselves defiled by my presence.”

“Witchery is not the evil the Dalesmen think. There are those of another blood who are born to it. Lessoned in its use they must be, but the power over wind and water, earth and fire, is theirs by natural gift and not just from study. In the old days Arvon was not walled against the rest of the world. For all men then had touch with powers which lay not in their strength of arm, nor their minds, save as their minds could control such forces. We knew of other nations overseas which also used sorcery as a way of life. There was one wherein witches walked. And when we rode the waste, still we heard of that land, or what had come from its dwindling, for as Arvon, it had aged. There are witches still in Estcarp and with them Alizon wars.

“You think then I am of this witchblood?”

“True. You have not the lessoning, but within you lies the force. And there is this. They believe that a witch who gives her body to a man must put aside her witchhood.”

“If they never do, then how does their nation survive?”

“It dwindles amain by report. Also, this was not always true. It followed when some blight fell upon them long ago. Not all women of that land are witches, though they may mother daughters with the power. But she who has it is not wont to put it aside.”

“But I have had no lessoning. I am not truly witch.”

“If the power is in you, then it will strive to make you a proper vessel for its encompassing.”

“And the other Gillan?”

“The Gillan they try to fashion is not witch. They would not take such a threat among them.”

With each measured word Herrel sent me farther and farther into my own waste of exile. Would there ever be any rate for my return?

“Herrel—when I was with that other Gillan for a space—in the tent—and called to you—you knew me?”

“I knew—and learned then what had happened.”

“They dragged you away—then Halse sent me out of her.”

“Yes.”

“Would you have come searching for me, even if they had not sent you under geas?”

“I am not greater than the pack.” It seemed to me that he wished to evade my question. “I came—to their bidding.”

I had never been good at the understanding of people, the weighing of any emotions other than my own. Still, at this moment, was granted me a small flash of insight as profound, perhaps, as that any witch in the glory of full power could gain.

“You came because they could use your wish to lay the geas. Had there been no—no tie between us, then perhaps their bidding would not have sent you—”

I heard a sharp sound, or else a breath drawn in pain.

“Also, it was because of your thought of me that you broke that geas, Herrel! Remember that. For never have I heard of a man breaking a geas set in earnest spell—”

“What have you heard,” he demanded harshly, “save what lies in song and legend? The Dalesmen spin tales, and in them the kernel of truth is very small and hid. Do not find in me any virtue that I did not kill you to their bidding. I know well my shame—”

“Too long—” I put out my hands, resting them on his where he held the reins before my waist, “too long have you accepted a lesser naming, Herrel. Remember, I came to your cloak, when those others laughed to see you leave it. Through their clouds of sorcery, ill meant, have we broken thus far. You have not failed in battle, or you would not have continued to ride with the Pack.” I paused, but he said nothing, so I continued:

“An arrow shaft alone can be broken between a man’s two hands by small effort. Set two arrows together and the task is less easy. All my life I have walked alone, an onlooker of the lives of others. So perhaps have you. But do not tell me that you are less than Halse, or Harl, or Hyron. That I do not believe!”

“Why did you pick up my cloak?” he asked abruptly. “Not because it lay the nearest, or because I saw it of great beauty. For, remember, I saw it as it was. But because when my eyes fell upon it, I could not turn aside, or do aught else than gather it up.” The mailed arms about me tightened, and relaxed. “This then—this much I did!”

“And the spell you laid, Herrel, must have been greater than the others, for I saw beneath the illusion. And you as you are—”

“Did you?” The momentary elation was gone from his voice. “Are you sure that you did not rather see the truth this night? Halse showed it you once in your very bed—”

“Truth may be not a sword with only two sides to the blade, so you look upon one and then the other. Rather it is like a faceted jewel with many faces. You may think you know one well, and another; then you discover a third, a fourth. Still they are all truth, or truths. I have seen you as illusion would make you for a bride’s beglamoured eyes, as a Were Rider from the waste, as the beast—And I think perhaps there are still more Herrels I have not met. But it was Herrel’s cloak which brought me here and I have no regrets of that choice.”

Again he made no answer for what seemed a long time. Around us the grey light grew stronger; we were coming into the new day, although in the wood the transition from dark to light might be delayed. The stallion held to his steady trot, now looking forward as if he, too, sensed the need for reaching some goal with as little delay as possible.

“You build too high on a hope—” Herrel might have been speaking to himself rather than to me. “However we only live by hope and mine hitherto has been a poor, weak thing. But, Gillan, listen to me—the worst is not now behind us—rather does it lie ahead. Their geas is broken, but they have that Gillan of their fashioning. And we must get her forth from them. To do that the Riders have to be faced—in one guise or another.”

“Will they meet us as beasts?”

“You they can face so. With me, no—to me they must give Pack right—if I have my chance to demand it.”

“Pack right?”

“I may demand to meet Halse sword point to sword point in Right and Judgment—since he has taken the other Gillan. And with you at hand I have proof of that.”

“And if you win?”

“If I win, then I can demand repartment from Halse—perhaps of the rest. But they will do all they can to keep me from such a challenge. And here in Arvon they can bend much to their will. From this hour on we ride in danger. I know not what they may send against us. Were it otherwise we would ride for the border, but without that other Gillan that would bring you naught but ill.”