Gene Wolfe: The Wizard

Toug nodded.

“‘Fore long I had da mon’der wid me.” Svon swallowed. “I douched id once. I dink I douched a arm, an’ id was like douchin’ da pigges’ znake in Mythgar’hr.”

“Or a dragon,” Toug suggested.

“Dad’s id. Dad’s id ‘zac’ly. Hod. Dad’s w’en I knew I had go back. I’d been pressin’, you know? Dryin’ do go fas’, bud nod so fas’ I’d wear oud my horse. For a w’ile I was keepin’ ahead like dad, bud ‘fore lon’ id’s back. We’re in da moundains an’ dere’s pig churls dere, churls dad live in caves. You mus’a zeen dem.”

Toug shook his head. “Do you mean the giants? I’ve never seen one.”

“Da Angrborn? Not as pig as dad. Just fery pig. Dink a’ da piggesd you efer saw, den a man, oh, dis much pigger.” Svon’s hands showed the increase, a cubit or so.

“I see.”

“I give dem gif’s an’ gained deir frien’ship. Or doughd I had. Zoon as da s’ars came oud, dere’s one ‘round my camp. I’d hear an’ shoud do go ‘way. He’d grund an’ zeem do go, bud ‘fore long he’d pea pack. Da mon’der caughd an’ killed him. I heard him die, drashing ‘round, an’ afder dad I heard id crackin’ bones.” Svon fell silent.

“So you rode hard after that.”

Svon nodded, not moving his head much. “Up ‘fore da zun an’ off. Jus’ now I overdook Lady Idnn, who’s leadin’ a pardy on food. She dol’ me her fader was up ahead wid men-ad-arms, an’ dere’s a boy—man, I mean. A man wid him who’d zeen Zir Able die. I’d ‘splained dad I was lookin’ for Zir Able. I never found da baron an’ his men-ad-arms. I—I dried do cud across where da road made a wide zweep.”

“So did I,” Toug said.

“Bud I caughd sigh’ a’ you, an’ rode over here. You’re da one Lady Idnn dol’ me ‘boud?”

“Yes,” Toug said miserably. “Yes, I’m sure I am.”

“You zaw him die? You zee his body?”

Toug shook his head. “He fell into the sea.”

“Here? Dad’s nod poss’ble!”

“You don’t know what’s possible.” Toug stalked off after his horse, caught it, and mounted. “You just think you do.” Memories of Disiri and the griffin had come rushing back. “Things you think aren’t possible happen every day. Did Lady Idnn tell you we were going to fight the giants?”

“She did.” Svon had risen, too, much more slowly. “You can’d coun’ on me for fighdin’, I’m ‘fraid. I—I’m priddy weak jus’ now.”

“Do what you can.” Toug felt sure it was what I would have said. “I’m going over to have a look at them. Then I’m going to find Sir Garvaon and Lord Beel and tell them—”

He stopped as he caught sight of Mani, who had emerged from the tall grass to stand regarding him. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m going to have to leave.”

“Is dad da cad?” Svon wanted to know as Mani jumped high enough to get his claws into the skirt of Toug’s saddle. “Lady Idnn zaid she’d los’ one. You goin’ do dake id back?”

“Not now. I’m just going to make sure he’s all right. You can go back to the road. Whatever you want.”

Left alone, Svon took a water bottle from one of his saddlebags and sat down again. The twice-baked bread was hard and dry, but not without flavor. Sips of water made it possible for him to eat and even enjoy it, and the cheese Toug had left him was better than good. The wounds Gylf’s teeth had inflicted seemed to burn, and his nose (still oozing blood into its bandage) hurt worse. For a time, eating and sipping cool water provided a welcome distraction.

When he had finished, he took off his steel cap and studied his face in the polished metal. Noblemen rarely had broken noses, although knights often did. It was one more indication that he would never claim his father’s lands. As a knight, he might get lands of his own. Not his father’s broad and smiling acres, and nothing like his castle. A little manor house somewhere, with farms to pay him rents. It would be better than hanging on as someone’s dependent. Drilling his brother’s men-at-arms.

It’s not an ax, Olafr, (His own voice spoke in his mind.) Put your thumb here, parallel to the blade. Parallel means in line with it. No, you don’t have to remember that. I mean, you have to remember about your thumb but not what parallel means. Remember what I told you about your thumb, and remember you mustn’t cut wood with your sword. Take good care of your sword, and it will—

A manor would be better. Much, much better.

Pain made him shut his eyes. It was childish to cry. He managed to stifle the sobs, but the tears came anyway, overflowing bruised and blackening eyes. His handkerchief was already sopping with his blood. He found what remained of the shirt, and though it was bloodstained too, dabbed at his eyes with it.

He had thought himself handsome once, and he would never be handsome again; but he would cheerfully have consented to be hideous, if only the pain would stop.

I should have brought wine, he told himself. Then he remembered that he had, and had drunk it, too.

Moonrise, who had been peaceably cropping grass, raised his head, ears up and forward.

Svon resumed his helmet, got to his feet, and loosened his sword in its scabbard. Thrust at his groin to make him lower his shield, then thrust at his face. But the rush of the outlaws—

It was only the boy come back, Sir Abie’s new servant or whatever he had been, with his knife lashed to his stick and the cat (absurdly) riding his shoulder, and the monster dog at his horse’s heels. Svon jogged to Moonrise and picked up the reins, but the boy—Toug?—dismounted.

“There’s a farm that way.” He pointed. “It’s not very far. The giants have stopped there, and I’m going to sneak over to see if I can find out what’s going on. After that we’ll have to find Sir Garvaon and Lord Beel, and bring them here. I want you to look after the horses while I’m gone.”

“No,” Svon declared. “We can hobble dem.”

“But I want—”

“I’m comin’. An’ if you’ve god a man’s good sense, you’ll go for riders an’ led me do de spyin’ lone.”

Later, when the hulking farmhouse was in sight, Toug whispered, “There’s supposed to be a old man here. A blind friend who’s looking for Sir Able.”

“Dis is Ber’hold, My Lord,” Svon told Beel. “Doog here found him.”

“You found him,” Toug declared.

“You dold me he was dere, Doog. If you hadn’d, I wouldn’d haf known ‘bout him, or known wad do make of him wen I came acrozz him.” Beel asked, “What happened to your nose?”

Svon managed to smile. “Doog broke id for me, My Lord. We had a dispude, w’ich he won.”

“Svon won the second one.”

“Wid words,” Svon explained. “Ad blows Doog besded me, an’ was gen’rous in vicdory.”

Berthold spoke then for the first time since they had dismounted. “He’s not no bad lad, Toug ain’t. Recollects me of my brother. Got many men, sir?”

Garvaon snapped, “Say my lord, fellow’”

“About sixty,” Beel told Berthold.

He sucked what teeth remained to him. “Might be enough. Good fighters?”

“They’ll have to be.” Beel looked grim.

“I’d fight. Only I can’t see.”

“Your tongue may serve better than any sword. Are they going to stay the night? It will give us time for those of us on foot to come up.”

“No, sir. They come to our farm and seen Master Bymir’s gone. Sir Able—Svon and Toug know him—killed him for us. Only the others didn’t see. We drug him out with two yoke and dug where the ground’s soft, and put a haystack on top, you know. The women hid, and I said he’s gone and left me to look after the stock. I can’t feed you unless he says. Well, they took it, sir, like I knew they would. While they was eatin’ I made off ‘til this Svon got me. Only they ain’t going to stay. They’ll move on directly.”