Gene Wolfe - The Knight

“Dog’s here already.” It was a man’s hoarse voice. “Nice dog.”

“Yes, he is.” Wishing I had a lantern, I joined them, leaving the stallion to get whatever supper he could from the dry grass. “I’m a knight of Sheerwall Castle, father. Sir Able of the High Heart is my name.”

“Able,” the old man said. “I’d a brother a’ that name.”

I nodded. “It’s a good one, I think.”

“His name’s Berthold, sir,” Gerda said. “Bold Berthold, they called him when we was young.”

Ia a little spot of moonlight, I could see Bold Berthold’s hand grope for hers, and find it.

Of course I knew who he was then, and I wanted to hug him and cry; but I knew, too, that he would never believe who I was. And if he did, he would believe all over again that I was the brother he had lost. I could not have handled it, and I knew it. I made my voice as hard as I could, and I said, “I’ve brought Gerda safely to you, and that’s what I promised her I’d do. You two have got a lot to talk about, and I’ve got urgent business in Utgard. How do I get there?”

“North,” Bold Berthold muttered. “Follow the star. That’s all I heard.”

“You’ve never been there yourself?”

“No, sir.”

“I haven’t neither,” Gerda said. “You must have heard reports.”

“It’s a bad place, even for them, sir. I hate to see a young man like you goin’ there.”

Bold Berthold was groping for me. “Can I feel of you? You sound like my brother.”

I touched Bold Berthold’s hand.

“Bigger’n mine.” His hand had clasped mine. “He ain’t but a slip of a lad, my brother ain’t.” Gerda said, “I recollect Able now. He was little when you was big, that’s right, but he must be as old as us, or near it.”

“Able was took. Gone years and years. When he come back he wasn’t no older than before. ’Twasn’t last year. Year ‘fore that, maybe.” Bold Berthold fell silent, and from the twitching of his white beard I knew his mouth was working, “Thought he’d come get me. Maybe he’s tryin’. Wasn’t but a slip of a boy. Only he growed.”

“There’s a Able here now,” Gerda reminded him; Gylf wagged his tail, a faint rustling among the fallen pine needles.

“I been tryin’ to get her to run with me, sir,” Bold Berthold explained, “only she won’t, and I won’t without she does. So we don’t, neither one.”

I nodded, although Bold Berthold could not see it and it is doubtful that Gerda could. “That’s right, she told me she didn’t want to escape.”

“I only said it ’cause I wasn’t sure I could trust you, sir. Not then I wasn’t. I’d like to, if we could an’ not get caught.” She spoke to Bold Berthold. “That’s why I brought him. He’s a knight, a real knight an’ not feard a’ anything. He’ll help us.”

“They don’t care ‘bout common folk,” Bold Berthold mumbled.

“I’ll help you if I can,” I told him, “only there’s no point in either of you going to Utgard with me, and I have to go there to free my servant.” I sighed, wondering whether I could really pull it all off. “Also a woman called Ulfa who helped me one time. Pouk’s blind now, I suppose; but I have to free him just the same. No—more than ever.” I had not meant to add, “Just as I’ve got to free you and Gerda,” but it slipped out.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you, sir!”

“After that, I have to help a certain baron take back the treasure he was bringing King Gilling. Then maybe I can find Svon and Org. Svon’s my squire. Org is ... I don’t think you’d understand. But I wish he were here, and Svon, too.”

At my elbow, a new voice said, “I will find them for you if you want me to, Lord.”

Gerda gave a small shriek.

“Not yet,” I told Uri. “I’ve been wondering where you two were.”

“Scattering the mules, of course. The Angrborn would have them all back by this time if it were not for us.”

“Are you all over black?” Gerda asked Uri. “I can’t hardly see you, even. It’s like I was blind myself, or as bad as.”

“I am a woman of the Fire Aelf,” Uri explained, and brightened until she glowed like a red-hot poker.

“Comin’ to torment me?” Bold Berthold rumbled. “Well, do your worst, all of you.”

“I am on my lord’s business,” Uri told him. “If you desire to be tormented, I will try to find someone to do it when I have more time.”

Bold Berthold’s right hand darted out, catching her by the neck. “There. I got her, Sir Able.”

“Please let her go. She’s no enemy of yours or mine.”

Bold Berthold’s left hand found Uri’s arm, and he released his hold upon her neck. “Don’t feel solid, like. They never does.”

“They seem less real here than we do, just as we seem more real in Aelfrice than we do here.” Inwardly I was full of doubt, but I kept going. “Uri and Baki—Baki’s another Aelfmaiden—fade and get weak under our sun.”

Uri said, “Will you not make him release me, Lord? What have I done to you or to him that was less than good?”

Gerda muttered, “Let her go, Bert,” and tapped his hand; but Bold Berthold did not.

“Well, you picked me up and flew away with me one time,” I told Uri, “you and Baki and some more of your friends.” I paused, considering. “I don’t think you should have asked me that question.”

“Then we will say I did not ask it.”

“It’s a little late for that.” I rubbed my chin. “Was I more real than you and Baki in Aelfrice, Uri? Garsecg told me I was.” Gerda tittered nervously. “These are questions for philosophers, Lord.”

“You and Baki have visited me here many times. Why doesn’t Garsecg come to me here, the way you do?”

“These’s bad ’uns, Sir Able,” Bold Berthold declared. “Don’t you trust ’em!”

“I have already.” I sighed again. “Often. Why doesn’t Garsecg come, Uri?”

“You have asked previously, Lord. Inquire of Garsecg himself.”

“I don’t have to, because I know the answer. So do you. Why don’t you say it?” I tried to sound like I had not just thought of it.

Uri did not speak. Her fire died, so that for a moment it seemed Bold Berthold held empty darkness.

“Okay, let’s go on to another question, one you won’t be able to say I’ve asked already. Since you Aelf can fight any time in Aelfrice, and there are thousands and thousands of you there—”

“We cannot fight like you, Lord.”

“Why does Garsecg want me to fight Kulili for him? A whole host of you Aelf couldn’t kill her. Yet Garsecg, who’s afraid to come here and talk to me, wanted me to fight her for him. Doesn’t that seem peculiar?”

“May I speak freely, Lord?”

“Sure,” I said.

“These are high matters. It is not well to speak of them before persons of no distinction.”

“Before Gerda and her friend, you mean.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“I don’t agree that they’re without distinction, Uri. But to spare your feelings, I’ll just say one thing, then we can talk about something else. The one thing is that Garsecg did come here to Mythgarthr. He came when I was wounded, and we talked a little on the Western Trader. He came again when we were on the Tower of Glas. Did I promise I’d say one more thing? Only one?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“’Twasn’t no promise,” Gerda put in.

“If it was a promise, I’m going to break it,” I told her, “because I want to tell Uri that Garsecg looked unreal in both places. He looked like thin blue glass, even when I saw him by starlight. Is that enough, Uri?”

“More than enough, Lord.”

“Do you understand that I know the answers to all the questions I asked you?”