Gene Wolfe: The Wizard

Toug craned his neck. “Have you killed some giants?”

“With my sword today, you mean?” I slowed Cloud to a walk and had a look at the battle. “Not a one. But Gylf’s probably done for a couple.”

Idnn and her women had come up by the time Toug said, “Isn’t the fire going to kill everybody?”

“I doubt it,” I told him. “The battle’s drifting out of its way, and there’s a storm brewing. From the smell of the wind, I’d say a snowstorm. We’ve still got work to do.”

We did it, but it would take me longer to write about everything than the fighting took—rounding up the mules and pack horses in the snow. We spent the night in the big house that had been Bymir’s, with fires roaring in every fireplace and most of us as near one as we could get. Toug found me in the barn, where Master Egr and his muleteers were unloading, feeding, and watering their charges.

“I—I wanted to talk to you, Sir Able. Can I?”

“May.” I stepped away from Cloud and looked down at him, trying not to grin. “Okay, you may if you’re willing to work. Are you?”

“Sure! Anything.”

“Only you’re tired and your face hurts.”

“Svon’s hurts worse, and he’s been doing a lot.”

“Which hasn’t included unsaddling his horse and seeing that it has water and corn. Not so far, anyhow.”

“He’s been helping Lord Beel and Lady Idnn.”

“That’s good.” Reaching up to the level of my eyes, I ran the comb along Cloud’s back; when I got to her tail I handed the comb to Toug. “Know what this tool is?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s a currycomb, the comb you use to groom a horse’s coat. If I had a squire he’d take care of my mount—not because I don’t think it’s important, but so he could learn to do it. When he was a knight himself, he might not have anybody to care for his horse.”

“You have a squire, Sir Able. It’s Svon. He told me.”

I shook my head. “If Svon was my squire, he’d be here, seeing to Cloud.”

“He’s afraid of you. That’s what I think.”

“There’s something else here of which he ought to be a lot more scared. Does Uns know about it?”

“The visible monster? I don’t know, sir.”

“Tell him next time you see him. I’m going to teach you how to take care of your horse now. Are you ready to learn?”

Eyeing my charger, Toug nodded. “Can you talk while I’m doing it?”

“Sure. Are you scared of Cloud?”

“A little bit. He’s so big.”

“She. Size has nothing to do with it. A vicious horse is terribly dangerous, even if it’s small. A gentle one may hurt you by accident because it’s so much bigger than you and so much stronger. But it isn’t likely. The man you told me about—the one who hit you—is more dangerous to you than I am. This’s the same kind of thing.”

Hesitantly, Toug nodded again.

“The first thing you have to do is take off the saddle and saddle blanket. His saddle tires your horse as long as it’s on his back. If you’ve ever lifted one, you know why. The saddle blanket will be wet with sweat, so it comes off too. If he’s hot, or outside in cold weather, you ought to cover him. Anything clean, dry, and warm is okay. In here, I don’t think we’ve got to do that.”

“I understand,” Toug said.

“Good. A horse doesn’t think like you do, but a good one hears your thoughts better than you hear his. You’ve got to listen hard, and your listening starts with knowing your horse gets thirsty, hungry, cold, and lonely just like you do. If you know that, your horse will know you know it from the way you act. If you don’t know it, he’ll know that too.”

“Sir Able, you—”

“The difference will show up in little things, most so small you may not see them. Battles are won or lost because of small things. You want to ask a question?”

“You were dead, Sir Able. I mean, we thought you were.”

I shrugged. “What does it matter? I’m here, breathing the same dusty air. Do you think I’m a ghost? If you want me to, I’ll stick my finger so you can see it bleed.”

Toug shook his head.

“That’s good. I’m alive, Toug, just like you. When we ate tonight a couple of dozen people saw me eat. Eating is proof. Ghosts can’t do it.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You do now. Is it this mail with gold in the rings? I got it when I got Eterne.” I touched, but did not draw, my sword. “Her scabbard was on a belt fastened to this. I took sword, mail, and all. What would you do after you had taken off the horse’s saddle and saddle blanket, and covered him if he needed it?”

“Take off the bridle,” Toug said. “Water him and get him something to eat, if I could find anything. That’s what I did with your old horse when I had him.”

I nodded. “After that?”

“That’s all.”

“After that you should look at his feet. I want you to lift Cloud’s right hind leg now, so you can check on her hoof. I’ll hold the lantern.”

Toug did, looking like he thought Cloud’s hoof might blow up.

“You don’t have to worry. She’s used to having her feet checked. She knows you’re doing it because you want her to be okay. Any stones in there?”

“No, sir. Is it all right if I ask where you got her?”

All around us, horses and mules stirred and stamped, and muleteers laughed and swore. At length I asked, “Is the shoe wearing out?”

“No, sir.”

“Are the nails loose? Any of them?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Take a look at her left hind hoof.”

Toug did.

“By now you must think I’m not going to answer. I am, but I was thinking how to. The Valfather gave her to me, but that doesn’t tell you much. Have you ever looked at a pool and seen Skai reflected in the water? The clouds, the sun, the birds, and so on?”

“Lots of times. This foot is all right, too, sir. Only who’s the Valfather?”

“Some people in your village pray to Disiri. Your sister told me.”

“Yes, sir. Are you going to get her out of Utgard?”

“Your sister? Sure. That’s one of the reasons I came back. Look at Cloud’s right front hoof.”

Somewhat less hesitantly, Toug lifted that foot as well.

“When I talk about Overcyns, I don’t mean Disiri or her people. How many Overcyns do you know?”

“Well, there’s Thunor...” Toug hesitated. “And the Thunderer.”

“They’re the same guy. Name some more.”

After a long pause: “Mother says Nerthis.”

I laughed. “Now you’ve got me. I never heard of him.”

“It’s her.”

“Let’s have some more.”

“I don’t know any more, Sir Able. But this foot is all right, too. I’ll look at the other one.”

“You’ve heard a great deal of swearing since you came in here, and that may be as good a way as any to find out who men ought to revere. What names have you heard?”

“Uh... Frigg. And Forcetti? Is that an Overcyn, sir? I thought it was a place.”

“It’s both. The city was named for the Overcyn, because people hoped for justice there. Is that all? You don’t seem to have been paying much attention.”

“Fenrir and Sif, sir. And the Wanderer.”

“Nice going. The Wanderer is the Valfather. Now pay attention. You saw Skai reflected in a pool. But that pool and everything around it, all our world of Mythgarthr, is the reflection of Skai. Lord Beel gave me the white horse that we left behind when we climbed on the griffin. Maybe I told you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The Valfather gave me Cloud, just like that. You look sick. What is it?”

“Your horse, the one I had until that man knocked me off. I—nobody’s taking care of him, unless he is.”

“I see. He’s still your horse, Toug, even if he was stolen from you.”