Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

Marder joined me there, speaking of wars fought before I was born and knights who had served his father. After a time he said, “They wished to question you on a matter we both understand. I would ask about another matter, though it bears on the first. I ask no oath. You wouldn’t lie to me.”

I confirmed that I would not.

“You know the Aelf better than almost any man—that much is plain. Was one present tonight, when we spoke with that fair lady who rules these great ladies?”

I said, “There may have been, Your Grace, but if there was I wasn’t aware of it.”

We sat sipping ale and staring into the fire, a fire too great for any human cook to roast meat on, until Marder said, “In speaking of that other matter, someone whispered that it was done for love. The words were addressed to you, I think. Was it the queen who spoke so?”

I said it was not, and begged him not to examine me further, explaining that any answer would betray a friend.

“That being so I will not, Sir Able. I will ask one question more, however. I did not know this person present. Did Her Majesty, in whose pavilion we sat, know it?”

“Yes indeed, Your Grace. She was aware of it from the beginning, rest assured.”

Then Borda, a fur woman as tall as the mainmast of a caravel, said, “The knight would leave our queen’s matters to our queen. I know little of knights and nothing of dukes. Still it seems knights are wiser.”

When I returned to my own fire, Pouk and Uns lay asleep; and a woman sat warming her hands while Gylf dozed beside her. I asked how I might serve her, and when she turned, I thought that it was Lynnet. “Sit with me,” she said, and her voice was not Lynnet’s. “No. You’re weary and fuddled. Lie here with your head in my lap, and I’ll talk to you.”

I did, and she told me many things: her girlhood in America, how she met my father, and how they came to wed.

The journey south was long and slow, and one day I asked leave to ride ahead, explaining that I wished to see Redhall. South I galloped down the War Way, telling Wistan, Pouk, and Uns to join me when they could; and when Cloud and I were out of sight, we mounted into the air, higher and higher until the whole land spread below us like a map on a table and we saw the War Way as a thread, and the company—Beel’s and Marder’s and the Daughters of Angr whom Idnn was leading to the south—like a worm crawling along that thread. Ulfa’s Glennidam was a dot by a silver stream, while on the margins of the Griffin I saw where Griffmsford had stood. Then the Irring, and ruined Irringsmouth where it met the sea. Behind us the mountains rose, a mighty wall with parapets of snow and ice; but Cloud and Gylf—and I upon Cloud’s back—rose higher than they.

Until I saw a castle like a star. The Valfather stood upon a battlement, tiny and far but clear. One hand was lost in his beard, the other gripped his spear; on his head, in place of the broad hat he wore when walking the little roads of Mythgarthr, was the horned helmet that is his crown.

Our eyes met, and Cloud rolled at his glance, her hooves to Skai and her back to our world, so that the Valfather and his castle were far below us.

Had he indicated that he wanted us to descend, we would have done it at once. As it was we rose, although I felt that he wished—or at least invited—me to return to his hall. We climbed far before Mythgarthr lay below us again.

This I am tempted to omit: that I mistook another manor for Redhall. Mistake it I did, and to its door came Cloud, Gylf, and I; and I hammered it with a great iron ring, and hammered again, for it was late. At last a servingman came. I asked if it was Redhall (it was on the road to Kingsdoom), and he assured me it was not, that Redhall stood some way to the south. He supplied particulars of the manor house and its gate, and offered me a bed for the night. I thanked him but explained that I was determined to sleep in Redhall. Even then I knew I would not spend many nights there, and I wanted to make them as many as I could.

Away we went, galloping hard, with Gylf running ahead as if hot on some scent, until (long after any horse would have been exhausted) I turned aside to ask again, for we had come far and I feared we had passed Redhall in the dark.

The gate was ruinous, the house beyond it more ruinous still. I was about to leave without knocking when I realized that the stone figure beside the entrance was a manticore. After that I knocked indeed, shouted, and beat the weatherworn panels with the hilt of my dagger.

The woman who came bearing a candle was old, bent, and nearly toothless. Knowing she might be frightened to find an armed man at her door so late, I gave my name and assured her that I was only a lost traveler who meant no harm.

“More’s the pity. I hoped you had come to kill me.”

“Only to ask directions,” I said, “and bring good news. Is this Goldenlawn?” She nodded in silence. “And where stands Redhall?”

“A league and a half.” She pointed south. “It has no lord. I doubt they’ll open for you, and we’ve little here.”

“It has a lord again,” I told her. “I’m him, but I haven’t seen it.”

At that she stood straighter; and although she did not smile, it seemed almost she did. “The Frost Giants came at first-frost, years and years ago.”

“Yes,” I said. “So I understood.”

“He was away, Sir Ravd was.” She sucked her gums. “Off to the wars. He would’ve helped us. You going to stay?”

“In Redhall? For a few days, perhaps.”

“Here.”

“No, I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight, though it’s a bed I’ve never seen. I said I was Sir Able of the High Heart, I know. That’s true enough—the name I’ve had for years. I have to learn to say Sir Able of Redhall, too.”

“I wish you rest, Sir Able.” Her door began to close.

“Wait,” I said. “You haven’t heard my good news.”

“I thought that was it. What is it?”

“Your mistress, Lady Lynnet, is returning.”

She stared at me so long I thought that she would never stop, and I backed away. At that she said, “You’re an Aelf!”

“No. Sometimes I wish I were.”

“Come to torment me!”

“I would never do such a thing. Lady Lynnet’s coming to resume possession, with Mistress Etela. You must sweep the house, and make everything as presentable as you can.”

“This is my house,” the old woman said, “and I am Lady Lis.” With that she shut the door; I heard her sobbing on the other side for as long as I stayed there.

No Angrborn had taken Redhall, or it had been repaired. Stone pillars topped with lions marked an entrance road of half a league, narrow but in good repair. It led to a broad gate flanked with towers in a wall by no means contemptible. The gate was barred, but a blast on the horn hung from it brought four sleepy men-at-arms. The eldest said, “You come late, sir knight. Early, rather. This gate closes with the rising of the evening star, and does not open again until a man can use the bow. Come back then.”

“It opens when I want it to.” I pushed him aside.

The bailey was pounded earth, wide and overlooked by a manor too lofty to blush before castles. The mastiffs who guarded it were scarcely smaller than Gylf, broad of chest and great of head. How they knew me I cannot say; but they did, and stood in turn with their paws on my shoulders to look me in the face, and fawned on me afterward.

“Who are you?” the oldest man-at-arms demanded. “What’s that shield you bear? I must have your name.”

I turned on him. “I’ll have yours right now. Give it, or out sword and die.”

To my surprise he drew. He was standing too near; I got his arm, wrenched his sword away, and laid him at my feet with his own point to his throat. Prodded, he gasped, “Qut. My name’s Qut.”