Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

She stepped from the darkness as you might step from an unlit room into a well-lit one. A moment before I would have said that no woman in Redhall was taller than I, though Hela was, and the Daughters of Angr were taller than her sons.

This woman overtopped me, and her gold coronet made her look taller still. She was willow-slender, and willow-lithe, long-necked, and long-legged. So groomed was her jet-black hair, and so lustrous, that for a second I thought she wore a velvet hood beneath the coronet.

“Don’t you know me?” She laughed again; there was no merriment in that laugh, then or ever. “We’ve met, you and I, differently dressed.”

I bowed. “I could never have forgotten such a lady.”

“As stepped from a corner of your room? But you have.” The laugh came again. “You wore armor. I wore nothing. Now I come to grant a wish, yet fully dressed. Do you credit a Most High God?”

The question caught me by surprise. I said, “Why of course,” stammering like the boy I pretended not to be.

“I do and don’t.” She smiled, and the smile became her laugh. It was music, but I never ached to hear it again as I did Disiri’s. Even then, I thought her less than human, and that laugh was at the root of my opinion.

“I don’t and do.” She cocked her head like a bird.

I bowed again. “Just so, My Lady. We can think only of creatures, of things He’s made. Creatures are all we know, and can be all we know until we know Him. When we think of Him like that, we find we can’t believe. He can’t be like a creature any more than a carpenter is like a table.”

She nodded. “Wisely spoken. When I see how the world goes, I know there cannot be a Most High God. And yet that fiendish humor! Have you recognized me?”

“No, My Lady.”

“Poor dear. If I took off my crown and gown, you’d know me on the instant. You speak of tables.”

She strode to the far end of the long serving table on which my ale rested; her smooth, oval face held no fear, but I sensed that she did not wish to come near Org. “Suppose I lay here, naked.” One long white hand caressed the wood.

“You were the sacrifice offered Grengarm.”

“I was, and you my rescuer. Did you hope to enjoy me?”

I shook my head.

“There on his altar, or in some pleasant glade. I was in no mood to be enjoyed. I thought he’d devour us.”

I explained that I did not blame her, and all the while Org whispered to me of stealth and broken necks. Gylf had appeared in a doorway and stood watching us, his eyes alert.

“I know your name, Sir Able. Much about you, too. That you stabbed King Gilling—”

My shock must have appeared on my face.

“You didn’t? Or are you startled that I divined it?”

“I did not.”

“That’s well. I’d maintain that if I were you. Kings value themselves highly. Have you dredged up my name?”

I shook my head.

“Ah, such—such!—is fame. Suppose I had said that our king, my brother, values his blood far above that of the ruck of common men? Would you have known me then?”

“I’ve searched my memory, My Lady, but found nothing.”

“What a pity. Well, well. Where are we to begin?” She removed her coronet, laughed, and put it on a stool. “It’s why they have those points, you see? So that no one will sit on them and bend the gold.”

“My Lady—”

She laughed. “I’m not, you know—anyone’s lady. I’m a princess. Didn’t you hear me say so? King Arnthor is my brother. Don’t stare. I am Princess Morcaine, and the only princess our realm has—the only one it’s liable to have, since the queen keeps her legs crossed.” Morcaine shook out her hair, filling the air with musky perfume. “Will you free me from this gown? It’s too tight.”

“Your Highness, I love a queen. Not King Arnthor’s. Not Queen Idnn of Jotunland, either. Another one.”

Morcaine laughed again. “They’re as common as ditch water, these queens.”

“They’re not, Your Highness, and she’s like no other.”

“Because she’s the one you love. Haven’t you wondered about my under-things? I would’ve sworn I sensed that.”

Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.

“If you won’t let me show you, I’ll tell you. That below is invisible, a cobweb put there years ago. It serves its function still—or I hope it does, though when things are invisible it can be hard to tell.”

“I’m forgetting my manners. My servants are asleep—”

“Save these two.” Morcaine laughed.

“Yes, Your Highness. The rest are sleeping, but I can find a glass of good wine, if you wish it. Some little cakes and dried fruits, too.”

“A sip of your ale. May I have that?”

I presented the flagon that Halweard had brought me; she drained it and tossed it aside. “Now you’ve done your duty as Master of Redhall. We were discussing my underclothes, were we not?” She laughed, belched, and laughed as before. “Wouldn’t you like to see what holds these up?”

I shook my head.

“I’ve imps of lace for them. They bear them up as the giant on a map bears the world, and they will offer them to you like apples.” She paused, weighing the objects in question in her hands. “No, they’re bigger. Orbs. I like that. Orbs of ivory, smooth, firm, ruby-tipped. The king’s orb is gold, but I like mine better. So will you.”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Of course you will. If not now, another time. For the dragon. I’m in your debt.” Her face grew serious. “I repay debts. My father was a king in Mythgarthr, Mother a dragon of Muspel. My nurses were Aelf. Do you credit all that?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” I said, “I know it to be true.”

“I’m a good friend but a terrible enemy. You’ll find that’s true too. I’ve been watching you whenever I could find the time. Are those woman as big as they look?”

“Bigger, Your Highness. When I learned that their women lived separately, I wondered why the Frost Giants permitted it. When I met those women, I understood.”

“You never quailed before them.”

I shrugged.

“You’re the greatest knight in Mythgarthr. I couldn’t watch you in Skai, but I know you went there. You came back, too. You’re going to need a friend in Thortower. It’s what you said and why I came. It’s truer than you can know.”

“After speaking with one of those who live there, as I have been just now, I’m sure you’re right, Your Highness.”

“Do you think I offer myself to anyone and everyone? You couldn’t be more wrong.”

I struggled to explain that I thought nothing of the sort, but had to be true to Disiri.

“Is she true to you? You needn’t answer—I see it in your face.” Morcaine paused, and for the space of a breath white teeth gnawed her full lower lip. “I’m sorry. I never thought I’d say that to a man, but I am.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. You’re too kind.”

“I’ve been accused of many failings, but never before of that one. Never again, I imagine.”

Sensing that she was about to go, Org stirred.

“Are you sure, Sir Able? It doesn’t have to be on the table. I merely thought we might like to pretend it was that altar. We can go to your bed.”

“I’m tempted beyond endurance, but I can’t. I won’t.”

She laughed for perhaps the twentieth time, and stepped backward until darkness lapped the edges of her gown. Her coronet rose as though it were painted wood and the air were water. It floated to her and settled upon her head.

“That impressed you, I see.” She laughed. “In payment for your astonishment—you have visitors. Better rouse a servant if you don’t want to answer your own door.”