Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

“Yessar,” Uns repeated. “Looks nice, sar.”

“But I was wearing my helmet, so it didn’t look at all.” Seeing that Uns had not understood, I added, “It was dark, too. She can’t have seen my hairline.”

“Guess she seen ya some udder time, sar.” Uns collected the soiled garments I had discarded.

“She must have, and must have seen me since I returned from Skai. One does not grow old in Skai, Uns.”

“Yessar.”

“No one does. I was there twenty years, and looked no older when I left than I had when I arrived. Now those years have overtaken me. Not that it matters.”

“Nosar.”

“What matters is that she’s been watching me. I knew Baki and Uri watched from Aelfrice, as we watch Overcyns.”

“Never seen none, sar.”

“Those who look see them. We see what we want to see.”

“Awright, sar.”

“You’re going to wash my clothes now?”

“Yessar.”

“I wish you’d do me one more favor before you go. You unsaddled Cloud, didn’t you?”

“Nosar. Not yet. Will, sar.”

“Please do, and see to her needs. When you do, you’ll take my bowcase and quiver with the saddle. I’d like you to open the bowcase and take the bowstring off the bow.”

“Yessar.”

“Bring it to me. If I’m asleep, put it into my hand.”

No doubt Uns said, “Yessar”; for all his crudity, Uns was a good servant. Although he must have, I did not hear him.

Mani heard Uns’ breathing as he loosed Cloud’s cinch, and his muttered words of reassurance to Cloud, and hunkered lower in my right-hand saddlebag. The saddlebags would be taken off, Mani reminded himself, and thrown down somewhere. There would be a shock (he braced himself), but it would be merely uncomfortable, not dangerous.

The scraping near his ear was the sound of my bow being taken from the bowcase. Was Uns (the muttered words had certainly been Uns’) planning to shoot a cat?

No, because this new scrape was the bow being replaced, beyond question. That thump as the end of the bow struck the bottom of its hard leather case was unmistakable—unless it was really something else. Uns had not known what was in the case, and had taken it out to see if it was good to eat or play with. Finding it was not, he had sensibly put it back.

The thought suggested various occasions on which Mani himself had not put something back, and—Uns is lifting the saddlebags now. Here it comes!

But it did not come. The saddlebags settled into place Somewhere Else, where in place of Cloud’s slow, grazing steps there was a faint, faint swaying. Mani shut his eyes tight and counted until he lost count somewhere between twenty and the other one, then risked a peek from under the flap.

Uns had gone. I lay under a blanket by a fire. This was as good as conditions were ever apt to be.

Untying the thong that held the saddlebag closed had been the hard part of hiding in the bag. But Mani (who was not inexperienced in these matters) had labored with tooth and paw. Once inside, he had reached down to pass the thong loosely through its loop. Now it was not even necessary to pull it out. Raising the flap drew free the thong. Half in the bag and half out, he had a look around.

The bags hung on a limb near the ground. A larger limb held Cloud’s saddle and bridle. Cloud herself was rolling on her back in the manner of cats. Cloud, Mani reflected, was an unusually fine animal and might well have a dash of cat somewhere in her ancestry.

He leaped to the ground, flattened himself against it, and waited for any sign that he had been seen. All quiet, save for splashing some distance away. Fish jumping, quite possibly. Large fish, and even minnows were very good. Mani licked his lips.

More fires, and tents, on the other side of the tree. In this tent, a tree-sized woman sound asleep, her breath heavy with wine. Beside her, a snoring man with a blond mustache. Before the other, a shield tastefully ornamented with spotted cats; in it, a dozen men asleep. One stirred, and Mani left in haste. Black was surely the best of all colors. Assuredly, it was the best of all colors for cats. What, he wondered, did white cats do? How could they live, much less do their duty, when they were visible at night?

A sumptuous pavilion remained, which Mani felt certain was Idnn’s. He entered boldly, found her asleep (and the elderly maid at her feet also sleeping), and springing lightly onto her bosom offered the traditional gesture of love and respect until she woke.

“A thousand apologies, Your Majesty.” He lowered his eyes demurely. “I presume upon your affection, I know.”

“Mani! What are you doing here?”

“Reporting, Your Majesty. When you left, you charged me to observe everything, cautioning me that I’d have to give a full account of all I’d heard upon your return. I’ve heard a lot, and given an opportunity to make an interim report, I seized it. There’s much you should be apprised of.”

“How did you get here? You can’t possibly have walked this far.”

“Nor did I, Your Majesty.” Briefly, Mani considered the ethics of the situation. Ethics seldom concerned him, yet it seemed to him that this was one of those rare occasions when they had to be accorded weight. He cleared his throat. “My previous owner, the gallant knight for whom I still hold so much affection, carried me in a saddlebag, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Able?” Mani had been hoping that Idnn would pick him up and stroke him, and now she did. “Mani, Sir Able’s here—here in the mountains with us—not in Utgard. I spoke to him tonight.”

“It is nearly morning, Your Majesty.”

“All right, I spoke to him last night. Are you telling me he rode to Utgard and back in a night?”

“No, Your Majesty, for I do not know it.”

The old woman stirred, and Idnn whispered, “Go back to sleep, Gerda. It’s nothing.”

“Your Majesty not infrequently doubts my veracity,” Mani said stiffly “Your Majesty is prone to discount my sagacity as well. I am, however—”

“I don’t mean to insult you,” Idnn declared, “and I didn’t mean that you were nothing, only that Gerda should go back to sleep. But Sir Able—he simply cannot have gone to Utgard and returned with you as quick as that.”

“Doubtless Your Majesty is correct.” Mani’s tone was no longer unbending. “Nor did I say he had, only that I rode in his saddlebag. As I did, Your Majesty. So riding, I arrived not long ago, and since my arrival have been seeking you. Famished and exhausted from a trip you yourself call lengthy, but seeking you and not my own comfort.”

“There isn’t a lot of food here, but I’ll see that you have your choice of whatever we have.”

“In that case, I may be able to provide Your Majesty with a quail or a partridge, and I would account it an honor for Your Majesty to accept any such gift I may supply. But I should warn Your Majesty that Sir Able was unaware of my presence in his bag. It might be better not to speak of it.”

Idnn had not been listening. “How is my husband?”

“I am no physician—”

“But a shrewd judge of every matter brought before you.” Having smoothed Mani’s head sufficiently, Idnn tickled his chin. “How is he?”

“Your concern for him does you credit, Your Majesty. I am concerned myself. He has treated me with great civility, on the whole.”

Idnn sighed. “I don’t love him, Mani. I can’t. But I’m his wife. To be noble is to do one’s duty—”

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

“And to be royal is to do more. Knights serve their lord, and lords their king. But the king serves his people and his crown, or he is but a tyrant.”

“A queen, Your Majesty—”