Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

Gaynor, who had looked frightened the whole time, had gone white. I would very much have liked to know whether Morcaine was still smiling, but dared not turn my head.

“Does your dog hunger, Sir Able?”

“I suppose he does, Your Majesty. He’s usually hungry, in my experience.”

Again, Arnthor held up the swan’s leg. “You would not object if I were to present him with this? Some men, I know, do not like for others to feed their dogs.”

“It would be an honor for him, and for me.”

“As you say.” Smiling, Arnthor tossed the swan’s leg to Gylf, who caught it expertly in his mouth. The boarhounds swarmed him, snarling and snapping. He dropped it, set his forepaw on it, and roared to shake the hangings. Arnthor’s boarhounds turned tail and ran. In the following silence, there was no sound save the breaking of the swan’s bones.

I ate, and had half finished my partridge when Morcaine laughed. “They breed them tough in Jotunland, don’t they?” At her words the king’s guests began to eat and talk.

I said, “Perhaps they do, Your Highness.”

“Didn’t you get him there?”

“No, Your Highness. In the forests of our own Celidon. He was a gift from the Bodachan.”

Her face became that of her brother, I cannot say how. I was not conscious of having turned, yet it was to him I spoke. “You see, I bear tidings from Queen Disiri of the Moss Aelf, King Ycer of the Ice Aelf, and King Brunman of the Bodachan. So it was that the Bodachan gave me a companion to help me in my errand.”

“I’ve heard of no message until now,” Arnthor said.

“Still I have one, Your Majesty. One that has occupied me most of my life, though it has been not so many years in Mythgarthr. I was to reach you, and not that alone, but to come as one to whom you would give ear. Seven worlds there are, Your Majesty, and so arranged that the highest, where the Most High God reigns and where no impure thing is, is larger than all the rest together. The world beneath that—”

“What? Have you come to lecture me in metaphysic?”

“Is less, yet greater than the sum of those remaining. The winged beings there are not perfect in purity, but so near it they are permitted to serve the Most High God as the nobles of your realm serve you.”

“Better, I hope.”

“Below is the one we name Skai. We of Mythgarthr, who think this realm spacious, think it unutterably vast, for its extent is greater than that of the four below it laid side by side. It contains many things and many peoples, but its lawful possessors are the Overcyns—the Valfather and his queen, their sons and their daughters, and their families. To them our hearts are given. It is them we reverence when we reverence rightly.”

“I had a mind to question you concerning your victory today,” Arnthor told me.

“Beneath them is our human realm. We are its legitimate inhabitants. Beneath us is the lesser realm of Aelfrice, smaller than our own yet beautiful. There dwell Queen Disiri and the kings whom I named, the monarchs whose messenger I am. In their realm the Most High God placed a numerous folk called Kulili. As we reverence the Overcyns, so Kulili was to reverence us, and did, and was revered by the dragons of Muspel. Kulili sought nearer subjects, and patterned them after us, the objects of her reverence, that she might be loved by the image she loved. She made them, and asked their gratitude. They refused it, and drove her into the sea.”

By this time the whole royal hall had fallen silent to listen. Only Arnthor seemed of a mind to interrupt.

“In this way they became the folk of Aelfrice, holding it by right of conquest. The wisest among them revere us, knowing it to be the wish of Him Who Made Seven Worlds, the Most High God. The foolish, seeing our vanity, our avarice, and our cruelty, have turned from us to reverence dragons, by which much harm has come, for even the best of them are insatiable of power.”

“You bear a dragon upon your shield,” Arnthor remarked. “Have you forgotten that my genealogy bears another?”

“No, Your Majesty. Neither have I forgotten that your boyhood was spent among Sea Aelf, nor that you took the Nykr to honor them. Nor have the kings and queen I mentioned forgotten those things, which embolden them to speak to you as they do, imploring you to reshape our people. Kulili formed them, Your Majesty. They know that you might reform us, making us strong but merciful, and though merciful, just. May I speak for myself, Your Majesty?”

He nodded. “After what has preceded it, I welcome it.”

“I lived in the northern forests, Your Majesty, not far from Irringsmouth. It is a city of ruins.”

He nodded again.

“Outlaws calling themselves Free Companies rove those forests. They are as cruel and rapacious as the dragons; yet many cheer them because they rob your tax gatherers and try at times to protect the people from the Angrborn. Let those people have companies that are truly free, Your Majesty, and not outlaws. Teach them to arm themselves and choose knights from their number. Your tax gatherers come seldom; but when they come, they take all, for your people there are poor and few. Let them pay a fixed tribute instead, one not ruinous. Help and protect them, and you will find them richer and more numerous each year, and strong friends to your throne. Queen Disiri, and the kings who send me—”

“Have no claim upon your allegiance,” Arnthor said. “I do. Are betrayal and sedition the reforms you would have me encourage?”

“No, never.” His eyes told me I had failed, but I made a last effort. “The King of Skai rules as a father, Your Majesty, and because he does we name him the Valfather and count it honor to serve him even when defeat is sure. The Aelf ask that of you.”

Arnthor held out his hand. “Take off your sword belt, Sir Able. Surrender belt, sword, and all to your king.”

I heard Gaynor gasp but did as I had been told.

“Your spurs you may keep.” He called two knights, and told them where they were to take me. Although they guarded me with drawn swords, they had no need of them.

“No royal banquet here,” said the first of the knights who had escorted me to the dungeon. He sheathed his sword and offered me his hand. “I’m Sir Manasen.” The other gave me his hand as well.

A gaoler came up as we were talking, and Manasen told him he had to put me in a cell at the king’s order but that he was not to mistreat me, adding that he would send a servant with food, blankets, and clean straw.

After that I was locked in a cell with walls of living rock, reeking, narrow, and very dark; and left alone there, I suppose, for eight hours. I entertained myself during that time by repeating those parts of my message I had succeeded in delivering, considering those that I had not, and trying to imagine how I might have spoken more skillfully.

Mercifully I was interrupted by the arrival of Manasen’s servingman, with food, a great bundle of clean straw, and a jug of wine. After he delivered them, he argued with the gaoler, demanding that I be given a cell with a window. This the gaoler adamantly refused, insisting that such cells were reserved for prisoners of noble birth.

I heard them with little attention, although with enough to resolve that I would obtain such a cell for myself as soon as I could. I had not eaten much at the king’s table, and by that time was ravenous. The food Manasen had sent to me was simple—roast beef, bread, a slab of cheese, and an apple—but it was good and plentiful, and I devoured every scrap.

I was gnawing the core of the apple when the servingman left and the gaoler came in. He was a burly man armed with an iron key not much shorter than my shin, but I knew I could overpower him if I wanted. He sat without being invited, put his key and his lantern on the floor beside him, and asked if he could have some wine. I poured him a good round tumbler.