Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

Uns bowed again. “Ya knows me, mum. I does wat I can’s aw, ‘n li’l ‘nough ta do wid.”

“He doesn’t,” I said. “None of us do.”

“Then there’s no shame in providing a queen with what you have, Uns. Whatever you’d eat yourself. We assure you we’re hungry enough to dine upon the bats of Utgard.”

She turned to Berthold. “You may go. Go back to our pavilion and get what food and rest you can.”

He bowed and turned away, feeling his way with a stick. “Uns is to serve us, Sir Able?”

“He does normally, Your Majesty, but I would have the honor of serving you myself, if I could.”

“It would not prevent you from eating? You’re three times our size—if we’re famished, you must be starving.”

“If I may serve myself, too, I’ll eat with a will.”

“Good. We ask that Uns and Pouk, though we feel certain they’re both good men, be kept out of earshot.”

I told them to remain on the other side of the fire, and (there being small need of warmth on such an evening) to stay well back from it unless Uns’ cooking required him to come closer. After that, I fetched two wooden trenchers and two jacks of wine that Uns had mixed with water.

“They’ll tell you when the meat’s ready?”

I nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“We’d like bread. Don’t tell us it’s hard—we know.”

I brought her half of one of the twice-baked loaves Svon had secured for us before war broke out in the marketplace.

“One needs a Frost Giant’s teeth to bite this,” Idnn said, chipping off a piece with her dagger. “They have massive jaws, all of them. Did you notice?”

I nodded and said I had.

“We asked our husband about it. We were telling him how handsome he was. You understand, we’re sure. He said they most enjoy the bones. It was a pity, he said, that we didn’t eat them. We explained that we eat the bones of larks and thrushes, and he smiled. We felt so sorry for him! We ought to have asked whether the jaws of the daughters of Ang’r were as strong as those of her sons, but it didn’t occur to us at the time. Nor would it have been politic, perhaps. Do you know, Sir Able? You must have seen a few since we told you of them.”

“No, but I’ve seen giantesses of the Giants of Winter and Old Night, Your Majesty.”

“Have you really? What were they like?”

“In appearance? They change their appearance readily, Your Majesty, just as the men do.”

“The men of the Giants of Winter and Old Night, you mean? They must be fabulous creatures.”

Uns called that our soup was done, and I fetched it. When I had given Idnn hers, I said, “They are indeed, Your Majesty.”

“You said you’d seen them, the giantesses, at any rate.”

“I’ve seen the men too, Your Majesty. And killed a few. Of the women, Skathi is beautiful and kind, though so big in her natural state that feasts are held upon her belly.”

Idnn laughed. “You set your table there?”

“Many tables, Your Majesty, and when we sing she sings along with us, and when we eat opens her mouth so we can cast dainties into it. Yet at other times, she seems only a tall lady, with strong arms and many plaits of golden hair, her husband’s shieldbearer.”

“We think you mad, though there may be more wisdom in it than in the sanity of other men. What of the rest?”

“Angrboda is a daughter of Angr, Your Majesty, though she wasn’t banished from Skai like so many of Angr’s brood. I have seen her many times, though only at a distance.”

Idnn smiled. “Do you fear her?”

“Yes, because her husband is Lothur, the youngest and worst of the Valfather’s sons. If she attacked me—it’s said she attacks all who come near—I would have to defend myself or perish.”

“We understand.”

“She’s hideous, and they say that the time of her womb is a thousand years. When it’s complete, she bears a monster and couples with her lord again. It may not be true.”

“Yet you think it may be. You were long in Skai?”

“Twenty years, Your Majesty, or about that.”

“But you saw no more than those two?”

“One other, Your Majesty.” The memory darkened my mind, as it does even now. “Modgud guards the Bridge of Swords. If it were destroyed, no ghost could visit us, and there are those who’d destroy it. Thus Modgud, a giantess, protects it night and day. Because she does, the ghosts may come forth when Helgate stands wide.”

Idnn spooned up a little soup. “We take it she’s fierce and well armed.”

“I don’t know what weapons she may have, Your Majesty. She bore none when I saw her.”

“Is she very large?”

I saw then that Idnn would question me until I told her everything; yet I hoped that by telling her much I might hold something back. “It’s hard to judge the natural size of any of the Giants of Winter and Old Night,” I said, “when one has seen them but once. When I saw her, Modgud was no larger than many Angrborn.”

“And in form...?”

“A maiden, fair-haired and slighter of limb than any Angrborn I’ve seen, small at the waist and not wide at hips, though womanly. Barefoot, and dressed as the poor dress.”

“Yet she frightened you.”

“Say that she impressed me, Your Majesty. Injustice to her, I must add that she didn’t oppose our coming in, nor our going out. Thunor blessed her and praised her for her care of the bridge, and she received his blessing and his praises graciously and seemed glad of them. Thunor was our leader.” I cleared my throat. “Many think the Overcyns are always at war with the giants, but that isn’t true. There’s friendship at times, as well as strife.”

Idnn nodded solemnly. “We know of that. Won’t you tell us what we want to hear? The thing you’re holding back?”

“Modgud’s face is that of death. It’s naked bone, save for a maiden’s eyes. Perhaps it’s just a mask. I hope so.”

Idnn stirred her soup and sipped a spoonful. “We are glad it was you and not we who saw her, Sir Able.”

“You will see her, Your Majesty, when you cross the Bridge of Swords.”

“We hope for better.” Again Idnn sipped, spilling soup from her spoon. “We didn’t examine you to pass the time.”

“I never thought you did, Your Majesty.”

“Will you stand a few more questions? What think you of Hela? She was your servant once.”

“Only briefly.” My own soup was cooling; I tasted it while I considered. “She’s an outcast, and knows she must always be one. Her brother’s an outcast, but not sensible of it. Hela is, and there’s poetry in her because of that, and sorrow. In the warm congress she’s a slattern, and yet I believe she truly loves Sir Woddet.”

Idnn nodded, her dark eyes on the glowing embers of our little fire, or perhaps on Uns and Pouk, who sat eating and talking beyond it. “Go on.”

“He doesn’t love her as I love Queen Disiri. Yet his tenderness is real—”

“And she warms her hands before it.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. Like every poet, she’s a clever liar, but too clever a liar to lie much or often. I wouldn’t trust her the way I would Pouk or Uns. But maybe I’m being too hard on her.”

“It may be that we are as well. She came to us tonight, calling us queen, and asked what we knew of our subjects.”

“About the Angrborn, Your Majesty?”

“So we thought. We told her we had no subjects, that the Angrborn follow King Schildstarr, that though a queen we do not rule. You’re anxious to be off, to ride your wonder-steed among the stars. So would we, in your place.”

She had seen through me like glass. I pretended not to be surprised and said, “The stars are too far for Cloud and me, Your Majesty. Nor am I as eager to depart as I was.”