The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (31 page)

TAM WALKED THROUGH THE DEW-DAMPENED MORNING, FOLlowing a footpath along the river. He could see the town of Inniseth still, clinging to the embankment, the shutters all tightly closed, the superstitious inhabitants hiding inside. It was a strange world beyond the Vale of Lakes, that was certain. He thought of the mad old man they'd met below the Lion's Maw, and his eye followed the river north to where it disappeared into low-rising hills. Far off, the Vale lay beneath the shoulder of the mountains. Tarn had realized a truth on this journey—a truth he had never been able to admit to himself before. He did not feel at home in the Vale. He couldn't explain why, but he'd always felt like a visitor there. Not that he was treated in any way differently by the people of the Vale: he was not. But it didn't matter, he wasn't at home there. He'd never admitted this to himself before, for the obvious reason ... if he wasn't at home in the Vale he had no home.” It is being an orphan," he whispered to the river. But he sensed that was only partly true. There was more to it. And now that he was out in the larger world he didn't feel any sense of belonging here either. If one judged by the reaction of the people of Inniseth, he would not find welcome in the world beyond the Vale. He remembered Alaan saying something about traveling and not being able to find a home. Perhaps this was why Tam had felt a liking for the man almost immediately—before he robbed them! Again he glanced toward the town of Inniseth. Villages were all much the same. You belonged there because your father and mother were born in that place, and likely their parents before them. You did not walk into a new village and suddenly realize that here was your home, for it took years to make your place, to establish who you were in the minds of others, and to find the people who saw the world "through the same window," as his grandfather put it. He turned and set off back toward their camp, looking at the river passing by, always toward the sea, never resting, even its course changing over time. It seemed a cold, relentless god that morning, utterly unconcerned with the few paltry beings who clung to its shores.

The Vale did not seem such an unwelcoming place at the moment, as though all his melancholy thoughts were but a passing mood. Perhaps no one ever felt perfectly at home anywhere.

He brushed aside some willow tendrils and found Baore stowing their belongings in the boat. He glanced up from beneath his mow of hair as Tarn approached.

"She was down a bit by the bow the past two days," Baore said.” We need some weight aft."Tarn nodded. For a moment he watched Baore at work, gauging the movement his friend's shoulder had regained. He was recovering nicely, Tarn guessed. Baore's big hands made and unmade knots with a quickness and ease that belied their size. Out over the river, terns called and dove, whirling in the air like leaves on the wind.

"Baore?" Tarn said on impulse.” I will go back with you from the Wold of Kerns."Baore paused in his efforts, then pulled a bag into place and ran a line over it, tying it securely to the floorboards.

"But if we both go back, Tam, Fynnol will not go on. He won't face the ride home alone. I hate to think how angry he will be.""We were not born into this world to please Fynnol," Tam said.

"Perhaps you weren't," Baore muttered, "but Fynnol believes otherwise of me."Tam heard himself sigh. He couldn't help it.” Fynnol may do as pleases him, but I will return from the Wold as we planned ... if that is what you want.""And what of these men-at-arms who seek us? Certainly they are riding down the old road."Tam looked out at the wheeling terns.” I don't know, Baore. All we can do is wait awhile for them to pass south. And then make our way north."As Baore predicted, Fynnol was not pleased by this news, though he still held that he would continue on with Cynddl. He sat in the bow, sullen and silent while the river bore them gently south. Tam took up his place in the stern and gazed into the river, sunlight knifing down into its green depths. Ever since they had passed the island with a falls to one side and smooth water to the other, Tam had looked at the river differently. It seemed to him to be a dark vein of mystery running through the hills. A vessel bearing the souls of a lost race. Had they offered their dead to the river? Tam wondered. Were these countless generations confined to the sunless depths, all drifting south toward the endless sea? Inniseth disappeared behind a bend in the river, and the Valemen found themselves in the wildlands again, the deep forest stretching back from the banks into the hills. Tam thought their visit to the town of Inniseth seemed like a dream. How could such a place exist here, in the middle of the wilds? But Inniseth existed for the same reason as the Vale— men came there seeking an escape from the wars in the south. It was a place of refuge—though no longer a welcoming one it seemed. Tam looked off toward the banks, where massive trees leaned out over the water as though they gazed at their reflections on the surface. A single, gray gull followed the boat, gliding in aimless circles. It peered hopelessly down into the waters and uttered its forlorn cry. This is not a land of men, Tam thought. We seem out of place here. The morning passed like the countryside, quietly and without haste. Just after noon Fynnol stood up in the bow and then, forgetting his mood, turned to the others.” There is the Eye of the Wynnd!" he said, pointing downriver. In the distance Tam could see the banks drawing up into vertical walls and, arcing over the river, a natural stone bridge. Beneath this, an almost perfectly round opening could be seen: the Eye of the Wynnd. The gorge was said to be without rocks or obstructions, but the water ran through it with fearsome speed—and fastest through the Eye itself.

The current picked up its pace, as though suddenly in a rush, and the voice of the river rose in anticipation. Tam took up the oars to keep the boat pointed downriver and in the center of the gathering flow.

In a moment the walls of the gorge closed in around them, and along the foot of the cliffs the water gurgled and spun, lashing them with sudden spray. Tam struggled with his oars, for turning broadside to the current could be disastrous. The great arch of stone hung over the gorge, massive and imposing, the opening beneath almost a hundred feet around, Tam was sure. He could see the distant river through it and, as they drew near, a piece of the sky.

The roar of the water echoed off the walls, and the boat flashed forward at impossible speed. Beneath the arch, the water appeared to bend upward, sunlight illuminating this standing wave of green and white. They shot through like an arrow, yawing first to the right and then left before Tam had their boat back under control.

In a moment the gorge was past and the river fell quickly back to sleep, muttering and sighing where it lay. Fynnol let out a whoop, turning to grin at the others.

"Shall we go back and do that again?" he asked.

Tam twisted about to look back at the opening, which did indeed look like an eye, though weeping a torrent of tears.

"I don't think we can do it again," Cynddl said, "but we can climb up and walk over the bridge, or so I understand. It is said to be good luck to cross the bridge, though you must do it at least three times."At the end of the gorge they beached their boat on gravel and ran it up under overhanging trees, where its dark hull faded into the shadows. Taking up their bows and other weapons they started back along the bank and were soon walking along the cliff edge, staring down into the speeding green waters of the gorge. Fynnol ranged ahead, still working his will on Baore, reproaching him with silence. Tam shook his head. How quickly grown men fell back into their childish ways with members of their own families. It was an hour's scramble to reach the Eye, where they walked out onto the natural bridge of stone. Tam set his feet gingerly at first, not sure why. Clearly the bridge was stronger than any man-made structure and had stood since the river carved its channel here. It just seemed so very strange and unlikely to him. Below them, the river ran like a cord of clear green glass being drawn through the gorge. For a long while they stood staring down. Tam felt a strange pull from the speeding water, and then Fynnol voiced his thought.” Has anyone ever jumped from here? It seems you would be shot to the surface in the Eye and carried quickly out of the gorge. There are no whirlpools or eddies, so you would likely escape unharmed. And what a feeling that would be! Can you imagine going through the Eye without aid of a boat?" Cynddl looked up at him, somewhat alarmed.” Now, let us not become foolhardy," the story finder said quickly.” There is danger enough on the river without seeking it out." The Valemen all laughed.” We have not taken leave of our senses completely." Fynnol laughed.” But don't you wonder? There is a narrow little gorge in the Vale where you can leap into the water and be carried over a falls. Below, it is quite deep, but in an instant you shoot to the surface without even the slightest effort. I imagine that this would be like that." Just then Baore gave a startled cry and pointed at the river. For a second Tam stared, seeing nothing, but then a wavering white form appeared beneath the surface, flickering like a candle flame. It came toward them at the speed of the river, but appeared to swim like a fish.

"It is a womanl" Fynnol said.

And so it seemed to be: white as foam and sleek as an otter. But if a woman, she had no need of air, for she never once broke the surface.

Tam glanced quickly at Cynddl, who crouched down to stare intently over the edge of stone. In a moment the figure was beneath them, hard to follow with the eye, like a fish prowling beneath the surface. And then it was lost in the shadow of the bridge.

They all bolted across the stone arch to stare down on the other side, but Tam only caught a glimpse of white there in the sun-sparkled water, and then the creature was gone.

"Well, what in the world was that?" Fynnol asked.

Both Baore and Cynddl stood staring down into the depths of the speeding Wynnd.

"Was it a body committed to the river?" Fynnol asked.” Have we seen one of the dead of Inniseth?""The people of Inniseth commit only the ashes of their dead to the river," Cynddl said, not taking his eyes from the running water.

"Then what was this creature, so like a woman but which never surfaced to breathe?"Cynddl looked up at the others and shrugged.” A river spirit," he said.” Isn't that what the people of Inniseth saw? Some strange sprite that made them afraid to cross the river alone or by night."Tam glanced over at Baore, who said nothing but only stared at the river, his face pale in the warm sunlight. Then he turned away, crossing over the bridge once, and then back, then again, and once more.

MORNING FOUND THEM SAILING ACROSS AN OPEN LAKE, REACHING between round islands and rocks scattered and bleached like bone. Elise could see sails in the distance, their sharp angles bright against the blue. It was going to be a beautiful day, already windy and warm, and she was free! Her family and all their folly left far behind. Elise braced herself against the motion of the boat and wondered why she did not feel a great sense of relief. She'd escaped, or at least it appeared so. She tried to force herself to feel elation but could not. All she felt was flat and empty and strangely out of place. I am a daughter of the Wills, she thought. What am I doing here pretending to be a traveling singer? But here she was, living her oft-repeated daydream, and she felt oddly close to tears, and not tears of joy. She turned her mind away from this and focused on her companions, who bent low, trying to avoid the dollops of spray that occasionally found their way over the bow. Gartnn sat at the helm looking far older than Elise suspected he was. The "early frost" of his gray beard and hair and the lines cut in his face by the knife of the sun gave the impression of age, but his motions were all strong and youthful and his voice could not have belonged to a man much over thirty-five. He sat with a hood pulled up over his head, his big sun-browned hands gripping the tiller. With enormous intensity he watched the water, the wind sign, the passing islands. His eyes were a startling blue set in a burnished face and a frame of coarse, gray hair. When he noticed that she was gazing at him he smiled, and Elise looked quickly away.

For a moment she concentrated on the passing scene. The boat dipped and a sheet of spray came over the bow, soaking them all and slapping with surprising solidity against the planks opposite.

"How long will we have to put up with this discomfort and wet?" Elffen asked.

Gartnn looked solemnly around. He glanced up at the clouds.” An hour or two more," he announced, the sound of his voice rasping slightly, like sand whispering over stone.” If the wind holds."Elffen rolled her eyes in disgust. She was pretty enough. That's what Aunt Bette would have said. Pretty enough for what? Elise had always wondered. Pretty enough that men noticed her, that was what she had come to believe. Pretty enough but not beautiful, not striking.

Elise herself had always been pretty enough—at least according to the judgment of her aunt. But to her it really meant just that—it was enough. She didn't dream of being one of those women who caused all the men to become wide-eyed when she entered a room, wide-eyed and then suddenly animated and loud. There were a few women like that around—one of her cousins among them—and they were terribly uninteresting, she thought. Prisoners of their beauty, as Elise had been a prisoner of her name. They could never walk unnoticed into a room. They were always observed, never the observer.

But now I am the observer, Elise thought, my name stripped away, like a woman might lose her beauty to age or disfigurement. There is nothing now that makes me stand out, nothing that makes me different.

She found this thought affected her profoundly. If you took away her name she was like anybody else, as though she herself were nothing—nothing but a sound, air passing over the lips. Elise was surprised at how leisurely their flight had become. As often as opportunity allowed they stopped to perform in villages and at the castles of knights and other landholders. We must appear to be minstrels, not fugitives, Gartnn had said, and Elise hadn't argued. Despite all of her flights of fancy she had no experience of escaping into the real world. This night they lodged in the guest rooms of a castle that was property of Lord A'denne, a man Elise thought she might have met once, though fortunately he was not in residence, nor was he often. He left a trustworthy knight as steward of the castle and surrounding estates. Over their meal the knight had told stories of chasing down and destroying a particularly brutish band of brigands—hardly delicate table talk, but he had not really been bragging. It almost seemed more an interest in the minds of these men—renegade men-at-arms.” They had lost their places and had nowhere to turn. No craft but war. Bitterness and loss of knightly dignity brought them to ruin. But pity though I felt for them, we showed them none upon the field, for it must be known that such crimes as they committed are punished more harshly when undertaken by men who have forsaken their vows." It was a harsh world beyond the confines of the Wills household. Harsh and brutal. And she felt very alone in it. Elffen did not seem to be preparing for bed that evening but paced back and forth, more animated than usual, laughing often, though with a certain hint of nervousness.” Will you pace the whole night, Elffen?" Elise asked finally, "or do you think you might sleep?" Elffen seemed to find great amusement in this, though she tried hard to suppress her laughter.” Sleep is the one thing I plan not to do this evening."Elise realized, finally, what was afoot.

"Oh, do not look so shocked," Elffen said.” Certainly there are affairs enough among the nobility. Are the Wills family so pure that these things are unknown?""No," Elise said.” No. The Wills aren't so pure. I ... I don't judge, Elffen. It is only that I have been sheltered by my family.""Well, your family shelter you no more," Elffen said, unable to hide her excitement.” But what you do with this sudden freedom is not my affair." In her heightened state this accidental, and not terribly clever, play on words amused her terribly.

Elise sat down on the edge of her bed, staring down at the floor.

"Oh, Lady Elise, have I distressed you?""No. . . ." Elise was not sure what she felt—a common state of affairs these days.” I have dreamed since I was a child of being free of my family, but now that I find myself free I don't know what to do." She looked up at her companion, who grew serious for the first time this evening.” Perhaps I don't yet believe we have escaped. I have this terrible foreboding that we shall be found out yet."Elffen dropped down in a chair, her mood suddenly grave.” It is possible that we won't escape. I've known Gartnn many years now—since I was a girl—and I've never known him to worry so. This knight Eremon . . ." She swallowed hard.” Gartnn fears him. And if Gartnn fears him then I am terrified." She looked up at Elise.” You know this knight: what is it that Gartnn fears?""I don't know. He is a forbidding man, brooding and sure of himself. But there is something more. . . . Those around him fear him—those who are closest to him. He seems to inspire this. As though the more you know of him, the more reason you find to be afraid. I have never encountered such a man before."Elffen gazed at her a moment, though clearly she was lost in thought, perhaps trying to picture such a man.

"Why is Gartnn helping me? Why are you helping me?" Elffen gazed at her, blinking, as though so deep in her own thoughts that the question had barely registered.” You're the daughter of Lord Carral Wills: that is reason enough. But also because Alaan asked us, and Gartnn would do anything that Alaan asked." "I find that strange enough. So that explains Gartnn's involvement, but what of you? It seems to me there is more than a little danger in this endeavor. Couldn't Gartnn and I travel alone?" "Oh, Alaan would not have you traveling without a companion," she said.” I'm sure he made promises to your father that he would protect you." Elise remembered his hand touching her shoulder that night, his lips. It seemed to her that he'd not been so concerned about protecting her then. Suddenly Elffen seemed to remember herself and jumped up, her face lighting again, a faint blush discoloring her neck.” But tonight we remain free, and I, for one, intend to make the most of it." She wrapped a shawl about her shoulders, stood before a looking glass, her excitement wavering through an instant of doubt. But then she smiled coyly at her reflection, planted a kiss on Elise's cheek, and swept out the door. Elise sat upon her bed, feeling suddenly very still—as though around her the whole world were in motion. People kept assignations, were swept up in storms of passion, bore children, won tournaments, died upon fields of battle. But Elise did nothing. She played her lute and wrote in her journal. She daydreamed. Not true, she reminded herself. She had run away, posed as a traveling minstrel, escaped a prince and his evil counselor. This was the stuff of stories—and yet she did not feel as though she were the heroine of a story. Heroines did not sit in their rooms alone each night. They went to balls, slipped out windows to escape over rooftops by moonlight.

Were courted by handsome nobles and roguish knights. They moved within the dance of life.

But she was motionless.

"I am a wallflower in the dance of life," she said aloud, and smiled at the image. But she didn't know what to do. To throw herself into some affair for no other reason than to do something seemed foolish to her.

"Perhaps I'm too sensible." But she longed to be in motion. To be part of the movement of the world.

Sounds from her open window drew her. The shutters were still in their half-closed position against the heat of the day, and in the slit between them she could see horsemen dismounting: men-at-arms, more than a dozen of them.

"She's in her room alone," someone said.” Shall we fetch her down, Lord A'denneT'"No, I will go up."

LordA'denne!

What a fool she'd been to come here—though she hadn't known until it was too late. Some servant must have been with Lord A'denne when she met him, and she'd been recognized!

What was she to do now? She dashed to the door, thinking to warn Gartnn, but then realized that if they knew where she was they were likely watching her door. She collapsed back against the wall, feeling tears well up. In a moment they would be at the door. She threw the bolt, and then stopped. What profit was there in making a prisoner of herself?

Quietly she pulled the bolt back again. She tossed a few belongings into a bag, slung it over her shoulder, then snuffed the candles. Going to the window she looked down again into the courtyard. The men-at-arms were gone, and only the stable boys were left, leading horses off to the stable.

Fearing it made a terrible noise, she pushed back the squeaky shutters. In a moment she was out onto the roof that sloped down from her window, the slate still warm from the day. The roof was perfectly dry and not too steep, but where would she go now? It was unlikely they would imagine she had gone out onto the roof, for ladies didn't do such things—except perhaps in stories. No, more likely they would believe she'd slipped past the man watching her door. Servants commonly took bribes to look the other way. Other windows were lit, and she crouched to crawl quickly past them. Before one she slipped and slithered half a dozen feet before recovering, crawling on all fours. Someone had poured their wash water out the widow—she hoped it was only wash water. She gazed down into the courtyard and realized that if she fell that would likely be the end of her story. For a moment she knelt, trying to catch her breath, but then she went forward more carefully, making sure the slate before her was dry. Elise traversed the length of the roof until it met a wall of stone that jutted up among the stars. How in the world would she ever get down from here, and where would she go? Unsure of what to do, she retraced her steps, crouching outside the first window to listen. The shutters here had been thrown back, and the windows lay open. Curtains stirred fitfully to the inconstant breeze. Elise stilled her breathing a moment, listening, but no sounds came from within. Stealing her nerve, she drew the curtain aside and looked in. Candles burned but she could see no one. The bed lay undisturbed, as though servants had lit the room but its occupant had not yet arrived. Elise tried to think where this room would be. Down the hall from her own, obviously. She counted the windows. Five rooms—near the end of the hallway. There was a servants stair very close by. Could she slip out and down the stair? To go where? She didn't know. Out. That was all she could think. Out into the night. Their boat lay to a dock not far off. If she could reach that she could slip away, though how far she'd get if pursued she didn't know. Not far, she feared. But she'd worry which road to take when she reached the fork and not before.

Grasping the sill Elise crawled awkwardly in, almost stumbling as she tried to turn around in the frame. And as she sorted herself out, still crouched with her back to the window, a movement caught her eye.

A young man sat in the corner, book in hand, gazing at her with an odd half smile.

"Of course, I am dreaming," he said.” Beautiful women never crawl in my window when I'm awake.""Don't let me interrupt your sleep," Elise said, trying to regain some of her composure.” I shan't be staying.""What kind of dream is that?" he said, setting the book aside and rising to his feet.” At the very least you should stay for a glass of wine and a chat."Elise couldn't remember seeing this young man before. Certainly he was a nobleman's son; no more than twenty, she thought. She wondered what he would do—but then he looked quite delighted with the situation, and somehow she didn't feel threatened by him.

"In this dream I cannot tarry. Perhaps another time.""This is a very disappointing dream. Too much like life, in fact. Dream girls are supposed to arrive and fulfill one's fantasies."She raised a finger.” We are under no such obligation," Elise said, backing toward the door. He followed her but kept his distance.

The young man shook his head.” Even in my dreams the girls run away.""I hardly think that women are running from you, sir," she said.

"Spoken like a true dream girl, but, alas, you're wrong. I set them to flight like flocks of birds, no matter how gently I approach, it seems.""They must suspect your intentions," Elise said quickly, almost to the door now.” I thought all men's intentions were suspect?" Elise laughed.” Well, then, perhaps it is your cynicism." "You do me an injustice. I am a romantic. No one more so." He gestured to her.” I dream of exquisitely mysterious women climbing in my window by night. What can they be up to? From whom do they flee? Someone very evil, I think." "More evil than you know. What is your name?" she asked.” I have the honor to be Lord Carl. This is my father's castle." "Your father has just arrived," she said.” Has he indeed? He was to have been in Dunharrow, a day's ride away. I was sent no word." "Nevertheless, he is here." He looked at her more seriously now, his youthful face growing thoughtful.” It cannot be my father whom you flee. He is not in the least evil. His justice is celebrated, in fact." "We are sometimes, unknowingly, agents of others." Her back came up against the door.” Then it is my father you flee. Now you have placed me in an odd predicament. So this is one of those dreams where you must make difficult choices. To keep faith with my father and betray the trust of a beautiful woman, or to ally myself with the dream girl who claims her innocence. May I ask your name?" he said.” How mysterious would I be if I told my name? Now, before you wake, I must say good night." She opened the door a crack, looked out, and found the hallway filled with men, almost all before her door.