Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

“You’re probably right—if you did as you say.”

“I’d prefer, My Lord, that you think me mendacious. It will save a thousand difficulties.”

“Can you read the book you were looking at?”

“No, My Lord.”

“This youth, your squire,” by the lightest nod of his massive head, the Earl Marshal indicated Wistan, “said you had found a spell in one of my books.”

“That youth is no longer my squire, My Lord.”

He sighed. “I share your difficulty. I won’t dismiss Payn, but I should. You said you couldn’t read that book.”

“I did, My Lord.”

“Are you saying that you said it or that you read it? It would seem we have fallen among conundrums already.”

“Both, My Lord.”

“Would you lie to me, Sir Able? I mean in matters other than that of the ghost, in which we agree on your mendacity.”

“No, My Lord.”

“So you read it, but can no longer read it? Why not?”

“It’s shut, My Lord. I can’t see the words.”

“Tush.” He raised a wide hand, damp with perspiration. “You read the character of Aelfrice. You need not say it, I know it. No wonder His Grace thinks highly of you.”

Wistan coughed. “If I may, My Lord? As I am no longer Sir Able’s squire, I may seek other service without dishonor. So it seems to me.”

“And to me, young man.” A slight smile played about the Earl Marshal’s lips.

“I seek it with you, My Lord. Take me at my word when I say I wouldn’t betray Sir Able’s confidences. He’s told me nothing in confidence, but I know more concerning him than most. I’ll advise you in the matter, if you’ll allow it.”

The Earl Marshal chuckled.

“You’ve need of an advisor, My Lord. For years I served an ordinary knight-at-arms. He was as worthy a knight as ever drew sword, to which Sir Able will attest. But a common knight, however staunch. Sir Able is of is another ilk.”

“I do not require you to tell me that, young man. What is your name, by the way?”

“Wistan, My Lord.”

“You may advise me in this matter, Wistan, if you will.”

“Thank you, My Lord. I am honored.”

The Earl Marshal made a tower of fingers and regarded Wistan over it. “If your advice proves profitable, I’ll take you into my service as you wish. If it does not, I will not. If I do, you must serve me better than you did Sir Able. If you do not, I’ll dismiss you just as he did.”

He turned to me. “Is he of good character, Sir Able?”

“Pretty much so, My Lord, though I’ve been trying to improve it.”

“No doubt.” The Earl Marshal turned back to Wistan. “You are my advisor, Wistan. This knight tells us that he bears a message to His Majesty—an important message, Sir Able?”

“I believe it must be, My Lord.”

“He will not reveal its source. Do you know it?”

Wistan shook his head. “Know it? Not I, My Lord.”

“Can you guess it?”

“I can try, My Lord. We were in the north when he left us, riding swiftly to Redhall. I joined him, bringing his servants and much treasure. Queen Idnn gave him that—”

The Earl Marshal’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean much of it was her gift, My Lord, and she was the one who got the rest to give so much. So if he rode with a message, I think it must be hers.”

The Earl Marshal looked to me. “Are we antagonists, Sir Able? I hope otherwise. I bear you no ill will.”

“I don’t bear you any either, My Lord.”

“Until this moment, I’d have boasted that there was not a royal personage within a thousand leagues who was unknown to me.” He laced hands on his belly, which was substantial. “Almost I am tempted to make the boast still. Is this a true queen of whom this stripling speaks? If she favors you, you must know her.”

“She is, My Lord. She’s Queen of the Skjaldmeyjar, the Daughters of Angr.”

“By this you intend the wives of the Frost Giants?”

“And their daughters, My Lord.”

“No man has seen them, Sir Able.”

Wistan said, “I have, My Lord.”

“So have I,” I said. “So has His Grace and many others who were with us.”

“This Idnn is their queen?”

“She is, My Lord. A good queen and a brave woman.”

Wistan started talking, but the Earl Marshal silenced him, rose, paced the room, took down the book I had shelved and turned its pages, and at last sat again. “This past summer, His Majesty sent my old friend Lord Beel to Jotunland as his ambassador. Against my advice, for it seemed to me an errand too hazardous for any man. Lord Beel has a daughter, young and fair. These arms rocked her when she was still in swaddling clothes. I ask a plain answer, is this the Queen Idnn of whom you speak? Yes or no?”

“It is, My Lord.”

“You have been with Lord Beel in Jotunland?”

Wistan said hastily, “We both have, My Lord. He was Sir Garvaon’s liege. I was Sir Garvaon’s squire.”

“Was His Grace with Lord Beel as well? It was said a moment ago that he had seen the Frost Giants’ women.”

“Yes, My Lord. Sir Able brought him, My Lord, while we were in Utgard.”

“Before Lady Idnn became queen of Angr’s women?”

“Afterward, My Lord. Only we didn’t know it then. We didn’t know if there were any ‘til Hela brought them.”

“Harrumph!”

“Hela’s Sir Woddet’s maidservant, My Lord. Only she used to be Sir Able’s. He gave her and her brother to Sir Woddet, My Lord, because they’re friends and he wanted them. Sir Garvaon said not to trust them, so I tried to stay away from them. Only the Angrborn women are worse. They’re bigger and I never liked the way they looked at me, only they helped us in the battle.”

“There was a battle.”

That was directed to me. I said, “Yes, My Lord. King Schildstarr’s army tried to keep us from leaving Jotunland.”

“By us you signify His Grace and His Lordship? Queen Idnn as well?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Who naturally called upon her subjects. Did they fight with dashers and pestles? That sort of thing?”

“No, My Lord. With spears and swords.”

“And they are of the size of the Angrborn?”

“Larger, My Lord. Something larger.”

“Lady Idnn is their queen. Lord Beel’s daughter.”

“Right, My Lord. Lady Idnn married King Gilling. To be Queen of Jotunland is to be Queen of the Skjaldmeyjar.”

“A King Schildstarr was mentioned not long ago.”

“King Gilling’s successor, My Lord.”

“I see. Did King Gilling fall in battle?”

“No, My Lord. He was murdered.”

“This is ill news.” The Earl Marshal sat with pursed lips. “By some partisan of this Schildstarr?”

“I think so, My Lord,” Wistan put in. “Some people thought Toug did it, but I know he didn’t.”

The Earl Marshal blinked, and asked me who Toug was.

“He’s Sir Svon’s squire, My Lord, and Wistan’s right. Toug’s innocent of the murder of King Gilling.”

“Is this Sir Svon the Svon I know?”

“I believe so, My Lord.”

Wistan said, “He fought the dragon in Aelfrice, My Lord. Only he wasn’t killed, and Sir Garvaon was. I didn’t see it. I mean I saw his body. The dragon bit him nearly through.”

The Earl Marshal rose. “You offered to show me that, um, mare of yours, Sir Able. Let’s look at her.”

We traversed a dozen corridors and passed through four courtyards. I recall thinking at the time that in spite of Thortower’s many lofty walls, soaring towers, and circles of fortification, it could not be defended by anything less than an army. It was too big to be held by a few hundred men—or a thousand, for that matter.

At last we reached the stables, and by pretending to quiet Cloud so the Earl Marshal could examine her, I was able to conceal the ivory dot that would become her horn. When he had stroked her muzzle, which she tolerated, he asked to ride her; and I was forced to say that he could not, that she would not permit it.