Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

Wistan nodded.

“And he was fighting beside me when the king was killed, so it’s quite impossible. But Wistan thinks others believe him guilty.”

“Her Majesty.”

Wistan added, “His Lordship, too. Her father. He won’t say it, but he does, and thinks he can’t believe Sir Svon and me because we’re his friends. I’m—I am his friend. So it’s true. If I thought he’d done it, I’d lie to save him.”

Svon said, “I wouldn’t. Why are you looking around?”

“The air stirred. It hasn’t since this fog came. Gylf wanted to tell me something a minute ago, and I imagine that was what it was.” My hand was on his head; I felt his nod. “It wasn’t a breeze, but on a ship, sometimes, when you’re becalmed, a sail stirs and everyone looks and smiles. Soon it stirs again, if you’re lucky. The thing that stirs it isn’t really a wind, only air that’s been moved by a wind far away. But you’re desperate for wind, and when the sail stirs you know one’s on the way.”

“May your words reach the ears of Overcyns,” Svon said.

I had not thought him religious, and I said so.

“I felt they’d betrayed Sir Ravd and me. You’re going to ask if I expected them to fight beside me. Yes, I suppose I did. I’ve outgrown that, or hope I have.” He turned to Wistan. “Becoming a knight does it. That and wounds.”

Wistan said, “He’s trying to protect me, Sir Able, so I’d better tell you. Squires have honor to uphold too.”

“Of course they do.”

“I thought his ogre—could you send him away now?”

“He bothers you.”

“Yes, sir. He does. Will you, Sir Able?”

I shook my head. “I’d sooner send you, Wistan. Say what you have to say, and go.”

“I thought Org had killed the king. He says he didn’t.”

Weary with standing and weary with waiting, I leaned upon Eterne. “Go on.”

“Anyway I thought he had, and Etela told me he belonged to Sir Svon. So went to Sir Svon and said if Org confessed to Queen Idnn and her father, and of course to His Grace, I didn’t think they’d punish him, and Toug wouldn’t think they thought he had done it anymore.”

“You should say ‘Her Majesty’ not Queen Idnn.”

“I will, Sir Able. For a minute I forgot. Well, Sir Svon said he didn’t think his ogre had done it, but we’d find him and ask him. So we went, you know, out here in the wood, and he called him, and—and...”

“He came.”

“Yes, sir.” Wistan gulped. “I mean Sir Able. I never had seen him up close. But he wouldn’t say he did it, even after Sir Svon explained. So I wanted him just to say it, to tell them he did even if he didn’t. That’s when you came.”

“I understand, but I wish you were half as concerned for Toug’s safety as you are for the state of his feelings. He’s lost in this with Lady Lynnet, Etela, and Vil, it seems, and the four of them may meet with something worse than Org—a nice steep drop, for example.”

“I hope not, Sir Able.”

“Or a bear, or any of a thousand other things. Would you like to meet Org when you were wandering in this?”

Wistan shook his head and backed away.

“Then return to the camp, directly and quickly. Sir Svon and I are about to send him away, as you asked.”

Wistan turned and ran.

Svon gave me a tight-lipped smile. “He requires a bit of seasoning.”

“He does, but he’s getting it. Toug requires rescuing, apparently, and he’s not getting that.” My mind touched Cloud’s, but she had neither saddle nor bridle. “Will you send Org to look for him? And Lynnet and the rest?”

Svon nodded and told Org to stand. He rose, and seemed larger than I had ever seen him. Uns had said he caught him young, but he had been so fearsome when I fought him that it had never occurred to me that he might not be full grown.

“Org,” Svon said, “I know you were listening. I don’t want you to harm any of our party. Nod if you understand.” Org nodded.

“I want you to search this wood for Toug, and for Etela, Lynnet, and Vil. If you find them, bring them back unharmed. Do you understand?”

Org nodded again. He had been dark, doubtless because Svon had told him to make himself visible; he grew fog-pale as Svon spoke.

“Go now.”

Org vanished much more swiftly than Wistan had.

“He won’t harm them,” Svon said, “or I don’t think he will. It may depend on how hungry he is.”

I remarked that he had rescued Toug and Etela in the town beyond the walls of Utgard.

“He fed well there,” Svon told me. “There was always killing, and he killed half a dozen Angrborn when Sir Garvaon and I fought their champions. Their friends buried them, but he robbed the graves. He says—do you want to hear this?”

I told him to go ahead.

“He says there’s no better eating than a corpse that’s been dead a week in a cold climate. Do you want him back?”

I shook my head.

“He’s a useful follower, but...”

I said I understood, and calling Gylf to me asked him to cast about for Toug’s scent.

“I should look for them myself,” Svon said. “That’s an amazing dog you have. He used to irritate me almost as much as Pouk, but I’d love to have him, or one like him.”

I said, “I hope that someday you will.”

“I doubt it, but it’s pleasant to think about.” The handsome, tight-lipped smile came and went. “Before I fetch my horse, will you answer one question? For old times’ sake?”

I said that ignorance would prevent my answering many questions and honor many others, but I would not lie to him. “Do you think I killed His Majesty?”

“Certainly not.”

“I was fighting. Both times. Both times when he was stabbed, I was fighting. Had you thought of that?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I have.” Svon looked troubled. “I’ve thought about it often, and even talked about it with Her Majesty. I could have done it so easily.”

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose you could.”

“The first time, particularly, the night we fought his champions. My sword was in my hand. It was dark, and there was a great deal of noise and confusion. Pandemonium. Idnn has described it to you, I know.”

I nodded and added that Toug and others had as well. As I spoke we heard Gylf give tongue; he had struck the scent. I listened for a moment (as did Svon), and said that if the fog had not deceived me, he was already some distance away.

“I’ll get my horse,” Svon said, and was soon lost to sight. Privately I hoped he would not become lost too.

For an hour I did my best to follow Gylf’s voice, a deep-throated bay when the trail was plain, small sounds when some vagary of terrain made it difficult. Just before I caught up with him, I heard the silver notes of a trumpet, faint and far through fog that swirled and thinned as the wind rose, telling Marder’s folk to put out their fires and saddle up. Overtaking Gylf, I warned him that we might have trouble catching up even if we found Toug.

More distinctly than usual he said, “Not alone.”

“Toug? No, of course not. Lynnet, Etela, and Vil are with him, or at least I hope they’re still with him.”

“More.” Gylf sniffed the ground again, and growled. I cannot say there was fear in that growl; but he grew larger and darker as I watched, and when he spoke again, turning to repeat that Toug and the others were not alone, his head was as big as my war saddle and his fangs longer than my hand.

“Nor are you,” a voice behind me said.

The slope descended for whole leagues—so it seemed to me. And if it did not, if I am somehow mistaken, it is because I have made the distance less than it was.