The Wizard

Chapter 25. Lost

The unnatural warmth had left us, and the air lay so thick with freezing fog that I could not see my outstretched hand. Vil came, found wood for us, and rekindled the fire. Pouk asked whether he should saddle Cloud; I told him no, to wait until the fog lifted.

Marder and Beel came. I offered the same advice, and they agreed; Beel said he thought the fog more than natural, to which I said nothing.

Marder said, “You don’t think so, Sir Able? Tell us.”

“I consider the fog wholly natural.”

Beel shook his head. “You know more of wizardry—”

“No, My Lord.”

“Than I, but I can’t agree. Thiazi’s magic has created it. I’ve tried to counter it. I admit I’ve had no success.”

Marder tugged his beard. “I don’t know you as well as I want to, but I know you well enough to feel sure you have a reason for saying what you do. What is it?”

“I rode back to Utgard late last night, Your Grace.”

He nodded. “Her Majesty told us.”

“There was no fog, but there were a few lights high in the keep, and one a bit lower. We liked the warm weather.” Recalling Hela and Heimir, I added, “Or most of us did. But the warmth we liked too much to question was Thiazi’s work, I would say. After Her Majesty and I returned, he ceased his effort and winter closed its jaws on us again.”

Marder nodded. “Chilling the air. That would do it.”

Beel nodded too, I think mostly to himself. “No wonder I couldn’t counter him. He wasn’t doing anything.”

“Can you raise a wind?” Marder asked.

“Yes. Of course.”

“That should clear it off.” Marder stood up. “We’ll wait here until it’s gone, but we should be ready to leave as soon as we can see.”

Together they disappeared into the blank gray around us.

“I’ll be here forever if they mean it,” Vil whispered.

I asked about Toug.

“Better’n he was. You think them ladies Hela’s fetchin’ might help, Master? They knows herbs men don’t, sometimes.”

“I agree, and maybe they can. But how is it you know about Hela’s errand, Vil? Did she tell you?”

“No, sir.” His empty sockets stared into an obscurity no adept could lift. “I wasn’t, listenin’ in, I swear.”

“You would never do such a thing, I hope.”

“Well, I might. Only I didn’t. I was busy settin’ up for Master Toug. He’s mendin’ like I said, only he’s shamed, Master, to talk to you. He want’s to come ‘round, only he’s that shamed. He won’t hardly talk to Sir Svon, even.”

Pouk cleared his throat and spat. “I been tooken aback meself, Vil. Who ain’t? We might rag him now an’ then, I mean Uns an’ me might if we knew what ‘twas, which I don’t. Only we wouldn’t mean no harm. Would we, Uns?”

“I woun’t. Nosar! Him’s Squire Toug, Pouk.”

“If he won’t come to us,” I said, “we’ve got to go to him. But I doubt that it’s kidding he’s afraid of. Have you stolen while you were here with us, Truthful Vil?”

“No, sir!” Vil held up his hands. “Not nothin’, sir. I wouldn’t steal from you, Master. Ever. You can search me, or have your men here do it. Whatever way you choose.”

I smiled. “Much good that would do. If you’ve stolen and your conscience pains you, you’ve only to bring it back. You won’t be punished.”

“I wouldn’t never steal from you, Sir Able. You’ve my word on that.”

“Then go,” I said.

When Vil had gone, Uns asked what he had taken.

“I don’t know, but I could see Gylf didn’t trust him, and he knew about Hela’s errand.”

“Wot’s dat, Master?”

Pouk answered. “Gone to fetch ladies is what he said.”

I told them that I wanted my mail cleaned, and all the horse gear well washed with saddle soap, which put an end to their gossiping. When they were busy, I took Gylf aside and asked what Vil had taken; but he only said, “Don’t know,” and “Don’t see”—this last meaning, I think, that his world was the world of smells and sounds. He did not say, “Ears up,” as he often did, yet it seemed implied.

Svon came asking to speak to me privately. “There’s no privacy here,” I said, “less even than there is at night. We can’t tell when others may be listening.”

“Then promise you won’t repeat what I say.”

I refused.

“You are...” He seemed to find his words difficult. “The—greatest knight of us all.”

“I doubt it, but what of it?”

“It’s what everyone says. Sir Garvaon and Lord Beel, Sir Woddet and His Grace the Duke. Even Queen Idnn.”

“I thank the gracious Overcyns for Sir Leort.”

“Him too. I forgot him. I was your squire. Not for long, I know.”

“Long enough for a journey that seemed long to us.”

“I remember.” For a moment it appeared he would say no more than that. “I didn’t like you, and you didn’t like me.”

I agreed.

“You said once that you were the boy who threw my sword in the bushes. You can’t have been, but you said you were.”

“I am.”

“But you’re the greatest knight. In a month my leg will heal. Will you fight when it does? I mean to challenge you. I’d rather you fought gladly—that we engaged as friends.”

“I will,” I promised, “but not here in Jotunland.”

Svon rarely smiled, but he smiled then. “It’s settled. Good! Will you give me your hand?”

We clasped hands as friends should.

“Why wouldn’t you promise to keep my confidence?”

“Because I had no idea what you might say. Suppose you said you intended to betray us.”

“Or that I’d betrayed Sir Ravd, which is what everyone else says.” The smile vanished.

“That would trouble me less. But if I’d given my word that I’d keep your secret, I’d keep it. If it were that you meant to betray us to the Angrborn, I’d fight you now and kill you if I could. But I’d never reveal what you told me.”

Svon nodded slowly. “I understand. You really thought it might be something like that.”

“I feared it. I didn’t mean that your confidences, or anyone’s, will be served at dinner like venison. But you don’t have my word I won’t reveal them, nor will you get it.”

He seemed about to choke. “I love Idnn. Her Majesty.”

“Is that another confidence? I knew it already, and there can’t be many who don’t.”

“I think she—she...”

“She does, I’m sure.”

“But she’s a queen, and I—my father was a baron...”

“But you’re not, or at least not at present. This is why you want to fight me, isn’t it?”

“It’s part of it. Yes.”

“Would you like me to lose? To yield to you? After a considerable struggle, of course.”

“Certainly not!”

“What if I win?”

Svon held himself very straight. “I’ll live or die, like other vanquished knights. If I die—in a way I hope I will—it will be with Her Majesty’s favor on my helm.”

I congratulated him.

“Though I engage the greatest knight in Mythgarthr, I won’t be worthy of her. But I’ll be more nearly worthy. Sir Woddet fought you. So did Sir Leort, and His Grace.”

“You have given me part of your reason,” I said, “will you give me the rest?”

“Because you took my sword. It unmanned me and you thought me a coward, if that was really you.”

“It was.”

His hard, handsome face (made human by its broken nose) was entirely serious as he said, “Then I must prove myself.”

“You already have,” I told him.

He shook his head, and as if eager to talk of something else said, “This fog—isn’t it ever going to lift?”

I mentioned my concern for Toug, and Svon shrugged. I said, “If you could contrive some little errand and send him to me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Certainly. As soon as I get back. He despairs.”

Svon seemed to expect a comment, so I said, “I know.”

“Etela helps him more than I’ve been able to.”

“That’s natural.”

“Her mother, too. Lynnet. And Vil does what he can, showing him his tricks and getting him to describe what he saw, then showing him—sometimes—how the trick was done. He’ll get over it. Boys always do.”

I nodded, although I was not sure I agreed.

Svon turned to go. “I’ve been thinking...” He turned back. “I should tell you. All my life men have told me they were helped by this one or that one. No one ever helped me.”

“Sir Ravd tried.”

“Yes. But now someone has. You gave me the accolade—elevated me to knighthood. Were you really authorized to do it? By a ruler?”

“I was and I am.”

“By the queen you say knighted you? The queen of the Moss Aelf?”

I shook my head.

“I won’t ask any more. His Grace was surprised to find me a knight. At first he thought Lord Beel had done it. I told him it was you and expected all sorts of objections, but I was wrong. He just congratulated me. Then he asked if I’d given allegiance to you. I said I hadn’t, that I had given it to Lord Beel. You were there.”

I nodded again.

“It was very informal. I suppose we’ll do it over when we get back, if we do.”

I said we would, but that the ceremony would not take place. “Not because His Lordship will refuse, but because you’ll ask to be released. Yours will be another liege.”

“Idnn. Her Majesty.”

I nodded.

“I’ve thought of that. I—She has no one, nothing, and I’ve land from her father. Swiftbrook. It’s not much, I’m sure, but I might win more.”

“You will.”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything. You taught me more than you realize.” He turned again, and was lost in the fog after a step or two. When I could no longer see him, I heard him say, “We’ll engage when we get home. You agreed. Perhaps she’ll accept me after that.” From the sound of his voice, he was still quite near.

An hour passed, or at least a time long enough to seem an hour; when the sun is invisible, it can be hard to judge. Mani joined me, saying, “Do you like this?”

“Our fire?” I knew it was not what he meant. “No, not much. The wood’s wet.”

“The fog.”

“No. It’s wet, too.”

“Neither do I.” He jumped into my lap and made himself comfortable. “You know, dear owner, I wish you’d taken me along when you and the queen went riding.”

“You were in one of my saddlebags, I suppose. I should have thought of that.”

“As if you didn’t! But if I’d heard you, I might be able to offer advice. Don’t tell me you’re Able, I know it.”

“I don’t make that sort of joke.”

“Oh, no! No, really you don’t. Yours are better, but often you think no one understands.”

“And you,” I said, and stroked his back.

“You haven’t told anyone about the... About that room. Lord Thiazi’s room.”

“About your experience there, you mean? No.”

“Thank you. I think about it. I think about it a lot. I’m not usually that way.”

“Introspective? No, you aren’t.”

“Will I really be free when the cat dies? You said something about that—or somebody did—and Huld says it, too. That I’ll be an elemental once more.”

I was not sure he wanted an answer, but he insisted he did. “No,” I told him. “No, you won’t.”

“She says elementals aren’t really alive but just think they are, so they can’t die.”

I told him she was correct.

“So I’ll be free. That’s what she says.”

“The elemental will be free, no longer having any share in life. You’re not the elemental or the cat. You’re both, and the cat will die like other cats.”

“I’d like to think that I’m just... The other thing. The thing that talks.”

“Then I’ll cut off your ear and we’ll see if it hurts.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Mani’s voice, always fairly close to the mews and purrs of a common house cat, had become more so, though I could still understand him.

“No.” I drew my dagger, and he vanished into the night.

Svon had promised to send Toug, and I waited some time for him, warming my hands and thinking of Disiri and the things I would have to do before I searched for her. I had promised to fight Svon—under the circumstances I could not do otherwise—and it was possible he might wound me badly, in which case my search would be further delayed. It was at least as possible I would kill him to prevent it.

At length it seemed clear that he had neglected to send Toug, or that Toug had been unavailable for some reason, and I remembered what I had said to Uns, that we would have to go to Toug if Toug would not come to us.

Motioning to Gylf, I rose. I knew which way Vil had gone, and made myself behave (as I picked my way through the fog) as a blind man would—walking in what I imagined to be the correct direction, groping the ground with my sheathed sword, and stopping every few steps to listen.

Soon I heard voices, followed by a deep grinding or grating that I could not at once identify. Someone (I was nearly certain it was Svon) spoke. Then someone else, who might perhaps have been Toug himself. The grinding came again, the sound one hears when one heavy stone slides on another, the sound that precedes an avalanche.

Another step; I heard the voice I now felt certain was Toug’s say, “If you said you killed him, that might do it.”

Never have I been so tempted to eavesdrop. I called, “Toug? Is that you?” and nearly choked on my own words.

“Master!” It was stone on stone; I knew then to whom it belonged. “Yes,” I said, “I’m here, Org.”

He was not the most terrifying creature I have seen, for I have seen dragons; but he was terrifying, and never more so than on that blind gray morning. It was all I could do to keep from drawing Eterne.

He knelt and bowed his head, repeating, “Master.”

I laid my hand on it, and it was hot as fever, like the stones that are heated to warm a bed.

“Sir Able?” (That voice was Svon’s.)

I called, “Yes.” Less loudly, I spoke to the crouching monster before me. “Have you been bad, Org?”

“Many.” He looked up as he spoke; there was unspeakable cruelty in his slitted eyes, but suffering, too.

“Did you kill King Gilling? Answer honestly. I will not blame or punish you.”

“No, Master.”

I nodded. “I never thought you did, Org.”

Svon emerged from the fog. “He might easily have done it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“So might I,” I said. “So might you or several others. But it’s beside the point. He’s an evil creature. We know it and so does he. Confess to having betrayed Sir Ravd!”

Svon took a quick step back. “No! I didn’t!”

I shrugged. “You see?”

“You mean I’m an evil creature too.”

“So am I. Why do we fight, if not to purge our evil? We’re afraid to die and afraid to live—afraid of what we may do. So we shout and charge. If we were good—”

Wistan had come near enough for me to recognize him. “Where’s Toug?” I asked him.

Svon said, “With you, I thought.”

“You sent him to me?”

“Yes, with Etela, her mother, and Vil. She insisted.”

When I said nothing, he added, “I thought you’d send them away if you wanted to talk to Toug alone.”

Gylf whined, pressing his shoulder against my hip; I had not been aware that he had followed me. I said, “Let’s hope we find them when this clears. Has Org served you well?”

“You overheard us.”

“I heard your voices. Nothing of what you said.”

Wistan started to speak, but Svon silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Do you want him back?”

Org himself said, “Yes.”

“I should have thanked you for him. I mean, when...”

“When you shared your confidence.”

Svon nodded. “Yes. Then. But I’m so used to hiding the fact that I have guardianship of him...”

“You must find it a heavy responsibility.”

He nodded again. “I’ve done my best for him as well as for the rest of us. I’ve protected him from us, and us from him. Or tried to.”

“I’m sure you have.”

Wistan said, “This’s my fault, Sir Able.”

“What is?” I had guessed, but it seemed best to ask.

“Sir Svon was alone, except for the mad woman.”

“Lady Lynnet.”

“Her, and I didn’t think she mattered. Her daughter had told me. Had told me enough, anyway. I said—I’m a friend of Toug’s, and I think Etela thought Toug must have told me about Org. I saw him once or twice when we were in Utgard.”

Svon added, “I suppose most of us did.”

I nodded, feeling Gylf press my leg.

“So I thought it might help Toug if Org were to say—not to everyone, just to the ones that matter—that he’d killed the king.”

This was an entirely new idea. I said, “You think Toug did it, and he’s feeling guilty? I assure you, he didn’t.”

“No. Not at all.”

Svon cleared his throat. “He was with Wistan the first time King Gilling was stabbed. Isn’t that correct, Wistan?”

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.