Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

Toug had run from the stable as Pouk kissed Ulfa’s hand. He knew Ulfa was not looking; yet he felt it was his duty to wave, so wave he did, knowing his eyes had filled with tears. In his boyhood, Ulfa had held authority. He had protested that authority often and loudly, and acknowledged it only when he might have something to gain. As he had grown older and stronger they had come to blows.

Now he might never see her again; the past reclaimed in her face and voice was gone once more. So he waved, knowing she was not thinking of him, and knowing that his tears were soaking his bandage. Knew shame, but wept and waved still.

I whistled and Gylf ran up a hill of air. A few seconds more, and Ulfa and I followed upon a proud, long-legged mare as gray as cloud and as swift as the wind. Together we four dwindled into the south as swans dwindle when ice closes the marshes, great solid birds that seem too large to fly, seen only as specs of white against Skai, specs that wane and fade and are seen to be very small indeed.

“How—? How did he do that?” Garvaon spoke to everyone and no one.

Nobody answered, and Toug wondered momentarily whether Pouk would continue to maintain the pretext of blindness or confess that he, too, had seen Cloud canter into the sky.

A strange, high keening filled the courtyard, coming from everywhere and nowhere, a sound more lonely and less human than that of a dog howling on his master’s grave.

“What’s that, sir?” Pouk grasped Toug’s arm.

“Org.” The name had slipped from his lips.

Garvaon asked, “Who’s Org?”

“Org isn’t anybody.” Toug sensed Svon’s gaze. “I just meant Pouk was hurting my arm.”

“We’re all tired,” Svon said. “Let’s get to bed.”

“But you saw it.” Garvaon pointed. “You and Toug. You saw it just like I did.”

“ With a lance of prayer and a horse of air,’” Svon quoted, “‘summoned I am to tourney, ten thousand leagues beyond the moon. Methinks it is no journey’”

Garvaon shook himself, the rings of his mail whispering. “He’s crazy, the knight in that song. That’s the whole point of the song. Sir Able’s not crazy.”

“We will be,” Svon said softly, “if we talk about this.”

He caught Pouk’s shoulder. “You saw nothing, I know, but you heard us talking about it.”

“Aye, sir. Only I ain’t figured out yet what happened. I know Sir Able went an’ took my Ulfa with him like he said, only I don’t remember hearin’ his horse go.”

“It would be well for you to remain as silent regarding all this. I speak as a friend.”

“Oh, I will, Sir Svon, sir. They’ll ast me what’s become o’ Ulfa, though, I knows they will. All right if I say Sir Able’s took her? They’ll know he was here.”

“Certainly.” Releasing Pouk, Svon turned to Toug. “You haven’t always been as discreet as I might like.”

“I know, Sir Svon. But I won’t say a word about what happened just now.”

“See that you don’t.”

“Have you seen Mani, Sir Svon? Lady Idnn’s cat? I mean the queen’s.”

“He’s the king’s cat now. You brought him here. What did you do with him?”

“I didn’t, Sir Svon. My sister did. Only she didn’t have him when she went with Sir Able.”

“You’d better look for him before you go to bed,” Svon told Toug; and when Toug went to search the shadows around the keep, Svon muttered, “I myself am going to bed, cat or no cat. Good night, Sir Garvaon. Pouk, you and I’ve been foes. I’m a knight now, and you’re blind. If you harbor ill will toward me—”

“I don’t, sir. Not I!”

“I would not blame you. Nor will I seek revenge, now or ever. I offer my hand.” Svon held it out. “Let’s hope we quit Jotunland alive together.” Pouk groped for Svon’s hand, found it, and clasped it.

Garvaon said, “You were Sir Able’s squire. You must know more about him than the rest of us.”

Looking back at them, Toug saw Svon shake his head and heard him say, “I didn’t learn a tenth as much as he could have taught me. I wish I had.”

The three went under the pitch-dark arch of the sally port, and Toug saw them no more. He spat, clenched his thumbs in his fists to warm them, and leaned for a blissful moment against the rough stones of the keep.

“I could lie down right here,” he murmured, “lie down and roll myself in my cloak and sleep. I’d freeze before the night was over, but I could do it.” He yawned and shook himself more or less as Garvaon had, and set out for the stables. Mani was certainly capable of getting back into Utgard without help, and Toug decided that Mani was probably in their turret room that very moment, curled warmly beside a sleeping Etela.

In the stable, the slaves Able had awakened and set to work were just going back to the bed. As loudly as he could, Toug said, “Listen up, all of you! I’ll be back tomorrow morning when I can look this place over by daylight, and I won’t just be concerned about my own horse. Every horse you’ve got had better have food and water, a clean coat, and clean straw to lie in. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Several muttered that they would attend to it.

“Meanwhile, I’m looking for a cat. A big—” Almost too late Toug remembered that these slaves were truly blind. “A big furry tomcat. He belongs to the king. Keep him if you find him, treat him well, and tell me when I come back.”

They swore they would, and he returned to the keep more tired than ever. Long knocking got him inside at last. “I thought all had come back that was comin’,” Arn said, and Toug explained that he was the last and told him about Mani.

No doubt Arn had promised to keep an eye out. As soon as he had begun the long jump-and-scramble up the too-high stairs, Toug could no longer remember. This part of the keep was practically solid stone, he knew. Solid stone with a few passages let into it. A few suffocating rooms like the guardroom, and stairs to dungeons dug like mines into the native rock. He felt the whole weight of Utgard around him waiting to crush him, a threat before which he ought to cower, and before which he would have cowered had he not been so tired.

“If the witch appears I won’t even talk to her,” he told himself. “I’ll lie down and cover my head. If she wants to kill me she can.”

But Huld did not appear, and the stair, which always seemed endless, and never more endless than it did that night, ended at last. The fire in the turret chamber was burning brightly; and though Mani was nowhere to be seen, Sword Breaker lay upon the wide bed next to the sleeping Etela, with the sword belt and dagger of human size I had bought in Irringsmouth.

“It’s been a long ride and a cold one,” I said, “but it’s almost over.”

Ulfa spoke through chattering teeth. “I wouldn’t care if it were twice as a long, as long as it’s the ride home.” And then, “You’ll bring Pouk? Bring him back to me?”

“Have you been a wife Pouk would want to come back to?”

“I think so. I’ve tried to be.”

I said, “Then Pouk will bring himself if need be.”

Only tossing black treetops were visible below; but Cloud was cantering down a slope. Gylf, who had gone chasing wild geese, was lagging and nearly out of sight. I whistled.

Ulfa said, “You know, I’ve heard that in the night, but I thought it was the wind.”

“It may have been. See how it’s blowing now. This wind whistles louder than I.”

“But it isn’t as cold as it was.”

“Only autumn here. A storm’s brewing.”

“Is that Glennidam? The houses? Those little fields in the forest?”

“I think so, though it’s possible I lost my way.”