Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

“Which is?”

“A noble knight—one whose father’s a nobleman. His mother was noble, too. A handsome knight with blue eyes and yellow hair and the kind of face women like.”

“A knight dependent on her father’s pity.”

“Nobles reward knights,” Toug insisted. “That’s what they’re for. You earned that manor fighting giants. You say you’re a untried knight, I guess because you’ve never fought another knight. But which is harder, fighting another knight or fighting a giant? I know which one scares me most.”

Svon smiled. “My nose buttresses your argument. Though I was no knight when you broke it, I admit.”

Up ahead, Angrborn had blocked the head of the column, where Beel and Idnn rode. They had spears taller than many a tree, bare bellies like hairy sails, and beards as long as Toug was tall.

Garvaon rode back to join Svon and Toug. “The king’s guards, did you hear that? No armor, and turn as quick as four yoke and a plow. His Lordship wants them to take us to their king. They want to kill us and take the mules. Or so they say. I’d like to see them try.”

A richly dressed man who had followed Garvaon exclaimed, “Utgard! That’s Utgard up there. I’ve heard about it all my life, but I no more expected to set eyes on it than the bottom of the sea. I’m going to make sketches.”

“It’s big all right,” Garvaon conceded.

“Big, and full of Frost Giants. Seriously, sir knight, if you were to kill those up ahead, a hundred more would be on us before we’d gone half a league.”

Svon said, “You’re right, of course. Have we met?”

“Only briefly, I’m afraid. I know you’ve been meeting a great many people. I’m Master Papounce.”

They shook hands, Svon stiffly. “Toug is my squire—”

Like an echo, someone farther ahead called, “Toug!”

“The only retinue I possess, at present.”

Toug shook hands too, and Papounce said, “You’ve a good, strong grip. Going to be a knight yourself before long.”

“I hardly know how to be a squire yet.”

Garvaon edged his mount near enough to touch Toug’s shoulder, a quick rough slap. “Somebody wants you.”

“Here’s a serving girl to fetch you, I believe,” Svon added as one of Idnn’s maids clattered up on a coarse pony that had begun the trip in the baggage train.

The maid did her best to curtsy in the saddle. “It’s Lady Idnn, Sir Svon. I mean, not her shouting, but it’s her that wants him, sir, and—and—oh, I don’t know. But Lady Idnn says won’t you lend him, I don’t know what for.”

“In which case we must find out. Come along, Squire.”

Toug sensed that Svon was trying to sound grim, but that the prospect of conversation with Idnn made it difficult.

The king’s guards had been joined by two more by the time Toug and Svon reached the front of the column. One of the newcomers overshadowed Beel and Idnn like a beetling cliff. “Anything you say must be heard by us,” he rumbled.

“I can’t stop you from listening,” Beel told him, “but it is a thing no gentleman would do.”

The Angrborn said nothing, frowning and leaning on a spear longer than a lance.

“King Gilling wants my daughter’s cat,” Beel told Svon. He rolled his eyes to indicate that there was no accounting for the whims of kings. “The cat Sir Able gave her.”

Mani mewed loudly to indicate the cat intended.

“I don’t know why he wants it,” Beel continued, “or how he came to hear of it. But that’s what he says, or rather, it’s what this officer of his says he says.”

The looming Angrborn took one hand from the shaft of his huge spear. “Hand it over!”

Addressing Toug, Idnn said, “He won’t promise to give Mani back, or even promise not to hurt him.”

The giant reached for Mani, and Svon’s sword cleared the scabbard.

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” Beel raised both hands. “This is a diplomatic mission. You, sir—I am Lord Beel, a baron of King Arnthor’s realm. May I ask your name?”

“Thrym.” The hand had been withdrawn.

“We need to explain to these men,” Beel indicated Svon and Toug, “what they’re to do—what Toug’s to do, and why he’s to do it. Then we’ll give you the cat, and you can take it to King Gilling, having accomplished your errand.”

He wheeled his mount to speak to Toug and Svon. “Under these circumstances, my daughter is reluctant to hand her pet over. Understandably, as I’m sure you’ll agree. She wanted to take it to His Majesty herself, and Thrym agreed. But she has been traveling, as we all have. I’d greatly prefer she not appear at court until she’s bathed and dressed. Let her appearance bring credit to our nation, not disrepute.”

“She could never bring disrepute,” Svon declared.

“ I said,” Idnn put in, “that in that case King Gilling could wait until we were to be received. We would put a gold collar and some nice perfume on Mani—”

Mani sneezed.

“And I would exhibit him to King Gilling. This—this great lump of a royal officer wouldn’t hear of it.”

“His instructions are to bring Mani to his king at once,” Beel said mildly. “Yes! And leave us out here cooling our heels.”

Beel spoke to Svon. “Thrym here would have allowed Idnn to carry Mani—that’s her cat—to the king. I wouldn’t permit it. I suggested that one of her maids do it.”

Idnn snapped, “Absolutely not!”

Beel nodded. “Now that I’ve given the matter more consideration, I’m inclined to agree. At any rate, Squire Toug is the only substitute Idnn will accept. I described Toug to Thrym, and Thrym indicated that he might accept him, too.” Beel turned to the giant. “Here he is. He’s Sir Svon’s squire, as I told you. Would he be acceptable?”

“If he don’t piss himself.”

“You don’t have to go,” Svon told Toug. “I won’t order you to.”

Beel said, “You’ll permit it? If he goes willingly?”

“No horse,” Thrym rumbled. “I walk. The king walks. You can walk too.”

Toug nodded and dismounted.

Idnn held out Mani. “This is very brave of you.”

Toug took him, putting him on his shoulder. “Would Sir Svon have done it?”

Svon said, “In an instant.”

“Of course you would.” Idnn smiled. “But I won’t allow it. Mani doesn’t know you well at all. Toug and I are the only people here Mani knows and likes, and it’s going to be frightening enough for him even with a friend present. He’s a big cat and a strong one. What if he were to scratch King Gilling’s face? What would become of our diplomacy then?”

“Would Sir Garvaon?” Toug asked her.

She seemed surprised by the question; but after a moment she said, “Yes. Yes, I’m sure he would, if I asked him.”

“So am I,” Toug told her. “What about Sir Able? Would he go?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Then so will I.” Toug looked at the gigantic Thrym, twice the height of the tallest man. “Shouldn’t we start? We’re keeping your king waiting.”

Their walk across the plain consumed hours. The wind snatched dust and snow from the fields, and the green cloak Lady Idnn had given Toug seemed powerless to keep it out. Mani rode his windward shoulder and pressed a warm and furry side against his ear, which was a great comfort; but even Mani trembled in that wind.

With every step (and the steps came very fast for league after league, since Toug had to trot to keep up) the lonely train of horses and mules behind them shrank. A huddle of clumsy houses bigger than barns appeared before the monstrous wall; beyond these houses yawned a gate like the mouth of a colossal face, one to which a portcullis of close-set bars thicker than old trees gave teeth.