Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

I said, “I suppose Morcaine must be the youngest.”

Uri shook her head. “Arnthor is, but males claim the throne first in this Celidon. Now stop interrupting;”

She took a deep breath. “Second, Morcaine and Arnthor must have spent most of their childhood here. Otherwise they would still be children. And third, the Sea Aelf raised them, not my clan. We were Setr’s slaves, remember? Loyal slaves, because we were terribly afraid. They were allies, or at least more nearly allies than we ever were.”

“I understand. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. You will distrust it, but I will say it just the same. Is King Arnthor afraid of his sister?”

I shrugged. “He doesn’t confide in me. Were you watching when I fought Morcaine’s dead knights?”

“No. But I would like to have seen it, Lord.”

“Nearly everybody fled. The spectators, I mean. But King Arnthor remained, and the queen, I think because Arnthor had her arm. And Morcaine herself, of course.”

“Did he look frightened?”

I cast my mind back. “No. Resolute, if anything.”

“Uh huh. You probably will not know this, either, Lord, but I must try. Is she afraid of him?”

“Yes, she is. Very much so.” I paused, remembering. “It may be why she drinks. She loves him, but she’s terribly frightened of him.”

“In that case he is a sorcerer, Lord, a most dangerous one. You may trust me, though you will not. An older sister with magic at her command? She would jerk him about like a puppet if he were not. Setr had magic, a great deal of it.”

I nodded agreement.

“So does Morcaine, from what I have heard, and you confirm it. Why should you think the youngest has none?”

“I shouldn’t, I suppose. Here’s another question. You stole that sword for me. A good one, made by Aelf long ago. Could you have gotten my own sword, Eterne, as easily?”

Uri shook her head. “I could not find it, Lord.”

“The king took it.”

“I know. Gylf told me. The king must have hidden it somewhere.” She sifted straw between her fingers.

“You couldn’t find it.”

“No, Lord.”

I reached out and touched her knee, I cannot say why. “That is a lie, Uri. You found it, but dared not take it. I’m glad you didn’t. Arnthor’s wrong, but Arnthor’s my king. You’ve talked to Gylf. Where is he?”

“I do not know, Lord, though I can probably find him without much trouble. They had chained him up. I freed him, as you ordered.”

I nodded. “He’s gone into the wild, I suppose. What about Cloud?”

“She is in the stable, Lord, and well seen to. I told her you might soon be free, and she will wait for you.”

“Have they tried to ride her?”

“Yes, Lord. Several of the grooms, without success.”

“She may be in danger.”

“There is a fat old nobleman who is interested in her, Lord. The grooms fear him. They dare not mistreat her.”

“Have you seen Baki?”

“Lately? No, Lord.”

I questioned her at length, but learned nothing more. If Cloud or Gylf had seen Baki, they had not mentioned it.

Time passed, until there came a day of excitement outside my little window, of men shouting and cursing, and horses and mules blowing and stamping. Then silence.

I spoke to my gaolers, and the one called Ged told me Arnthor was to lead an army against the Osterlings. He was taking the other gaolers with him to look after prisoners, and Ged alone would be in charge of the dungeon.

“I wouldn’t expect you to help, My Lord, but it’s going to be a lot of work.”

“You’re right,” I told him, “I won’t help you with that. But perhaps we can find help for you just the same.”

We began with the two barons whose cells were in the same corridor as my own. I introduced myself, which I had not done previously, explained that no menial work would be required of them, and offered to free them from their cells to supervise other prisoners if they would pledge themselves not to escape. Both agreed.

After that, we enlisted ten commoners, choosing the healthiest and strongest. We promised them clean straw, blankets, and better food; but when I got better acquainted with the misery the rest suffered, I gave them all those things. Their old straw, crawling with lice, we burned in the courtyard one night. One had been a barber; I stole a razor for him, scissors, and other things. He cut and shaved their heads and beards, and we burned the hair, too.

Wistan came, bringing my helmet and mail. “I’m sorry, Sir Able. They wouldn’t let me in before, only Lord Colle did today. Is he really a lord?” I said he was, and explained.

“Pouk and Uns are working or they would have come, too. They’re terribly concerned about you. So was I. I—we don’t really have to work. We’ve got some money.”

I asked what they were doing, and Wistan said he was helping the Earl Marshal’s clerks, while Pouk and Uns were working on a wall being built around the city.

Two men-at-arms were my next visitors, if they can be called that. They had come, they said, “To take me to the queens,” from which I assumed that Gaynor and Morcaine were jointly charged with governing Kingsdoom. I was corrected, and told that there were Frost Giants in the city, huge women who frightened the good burghers.

Gaynor and Idnn received me in the throne room. I knelt and was allowed by both to rise. Gaynor spoke. “You were my champion, Sir Able. Are you my champion still?”

I said I would be if I could.

“You must think I abandoned you. So I did, because my husband ordered it. He ordered me not to free you while he was away as well.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Do you also understand why he gave that order?”

“I think so, Your Majesty.”

“That is why I am seeing you like this.” She waved at her courtiers: women and old men. “These are my witnesses. I believe you know Lord Escan?”

“I have that honor.”

“He will speak on my behalf, my royal sister on her own behalf. You will be under guard the entire time, and will die if you try to escape.” She made a small, futile gesture and cooed, “I hope it won’t be necessary. I really do.”

“If my escape would displease Your Majesty, I shall not escape,” I said.

Idnn rose. “Come with me, in that case. Lord Escan?”

We spoke in the Red Room, a room of business that held a writing desk and a worktable, with a dozen or more bureaus for documents. An armchair with a footrest, prettily made, was carried in for Idnn; the Earl Marshal sat in the big oak chair that had been before the writing desk, and I on one of the clerk’s stools.

“You should be free this moment,” Idnn declared. “The way things are, it was all I could do to get my sister queen to order you brought up here. It’s a—it’s the worst sort of luck that you’re a prisoner.”

“For him it is,” the Earl Marshal agreed, “for us it is good fortune. I thank Skai for it.”

“I’ve seen him fight, My Lord, as you have not.”

“I fled the sight, Your Majesty. Harrumph! He may help us now because he’s not free. If he’d never been imprisoned, he’d be with the king and we wouldn’t have him.”

“I’ll free you,” Idnn promised me. “I’ll contrive some slight. My sister queen is not unwilling.”

“But fearful,” the Earl Marshal added. “At the moment, however, we require your brains, not your sword. Her Present Majesty has persuaded Queen Gaynor—and me—that we ought to consult you. She was much impressed by you in Jotunland.”

I said that I was honored, and meant it.

“Are you hungry? Lord Escan will order food for you if you wish it, I’m sure.”