The Wizard

Chapter 37. Five Fates And Three Wishes

We had two horses fit for war. Lamwell and I took them, but they did us little good; we could travel no faster than those we led, and most were on foot, though we had a decent palfrey for Lynnet and a gray donkey colt, scarcely big enough for a child, for Etela.

The badly wounded we left at Redhall with Payn, also the women who would consent to remain. I wanted Bold Berthold’s counsel, which was why I had begged him from Idnn; Gerda would not leave him. It was the same with Ulfa and Galene—Pouk and Uns were going to war, and they would have followed us at a distance if we would not take them.

No more would Lynnet stay. “I’m of a fighting family,” she said; and when I looked into her eyes I felt I was her son and could deny her nothing. Where she went, Vil and Etela must go too; they did, Vil walking beside Lynnet with one hand on her stirrup and a staff in the other.

We went to Irringsmouth, hoping to take ship; but the town was more ruinous still, and neither gold nor the sword could produce a ship. From there we marched down the coast by rugged roads or none. We were three knights with seven men-at-arms and four archers, mine from Redhall; we also had fifty-two armed churls, twenty of them outlaws and not to be relied upon. The rest were peasants who scarcely knew how to hold the weapons I had given them.

In addition we had the two blind men and far too many women, some of whom would fight if led. Recalling Idnn and her maids, I had given bows to those who showed ability. The rest had staves or spears. Lynnet, still mad at times, wore a sword Etela said had been her grandfather’s; and nobody in Mythgarthr brought a swifter blade to battle, or a wilder one. I had also Pouk and Uns; although neither was expert, both had some knowledge of arms and could be trusted to follow or to stand their ground. Lamwell was my lieutenant, with Toug second to him. Below them, Wistan (who had followed Idnn and was not much short of another knight), Pouk, and Uns.

There was one more with us, one some scarcely counted at all, though others stood in awe of him. It was Gylf; and I, who had seen him killing men like rats, knew he was worth a hundred spears. With us too at times were Aelf. Sometimes they brought food (never enough), and at others told us where we might find it or find horses.

For hungry though we were, we were hungrier for them. In Irringsmouth we had been able to buy two horses and a mule. We searched for more everywhere, paying for them when we could and fighting for them when we could not.

In this we lost a few of our company, as was inevitable; but as we went we gained more: ruined peasants, hungry, but hungrier for leadership and starved for vengeance. I spoke with admiration of their strength and courage, swore we would free Celidon from the Osterlings, and set Uns to teaching them the quarterstaff, and Pouk the knife.

Near Forcetti we met the first sizable body of the enemy, I would guess two hundred. Expecting us to run at the sight of the red rag, they were unprepared when we fell on them—no more than a hundred, but fighting as if we had a thousand behind us. The air was clear, hot, and still, with scarcely a cloud in the wide blue sky, and our bows had grand shooting when they took to their heels. We lost arrows, and arrows were more than gold to us; but we picked up others, and got more bows, too, with swords crooked and straight, spears of two sorts, shields, and other plunder. Duns joined us there; Nukara had been killed by the Osterlings who had looted and burned their farm. With us, Duns quickly learned that he could no longer boss his younger brother.

We fought foraging parties and heard from their wounded what had seemed clear already—the Caan was in the south, opposed by Arnthor. Some said the Mountain of Fire was still in Arnthor’s hands, some that it had been taken, and one that Celidon had retaken it. I asked Uri; she went, and confirmed it. She also said that while they held it, the Osterlings had cast children and old people into the crater, theirs and ours, and for them three dragons of Muspel had joined their host. That was hard to credit, since it seemed Arnthor’s army could not have stood against the Osterlings and three dragons. Vil suggested that the Caan had made dragons of wicker, which might be displayed on poles to frighten us; Uri insisted she could not have been deceived by such things.

Kingsdoom was deserted. We entered Thortower, although we had to fill the moat before the Great Gate, the drawbridge having burned. In the Rooks’ Tower, we found Osterlings, barricaded and devouring one of their own number. We smashed their barricade and Lamwell and I went for them, with Wistan, Pouk, Uns, and Qut behind. One said they had been put into Thortower by the Caan, a company of his guard, to hold it until he returned. When he had gone, they had been visited almost nightly by an invisible monster. It carried away one, sometimes two, on each visit. Although they had fought it, it had seized their spears and snapped the shafts.

I sent the rest away, returned to the dungeon, and called Org. He had grown so huge I could not believe he had entered the Rooks’ Tower at all; none of its doors had appeared large enough to admit him. By a few words and many gestures, he explained that he had climbed the tower and entered where a catapult had broken the wall.

“You may hold this castle for King Arnthor,” I told him. “If you do, the Osterlings we’ve slain are yours, with any others who come here. Or you may come with me. There’ll be battles to feed you, and it seems likely you can help us.”

“Nort’?”

“No, south. Into the desert.”

“Ru’ns? Leort say ru’ns.”

I had forgotten that. I said, “Yes, it’s possible you may find more of your kind there, though I can’t promise.”

I put Uns to his old duty again, and though he did not confide in Duns, he enlisted Galene to assist him. When we had gone some way south, I saw her floating as it seemed over the plain, borne up by a shambling monster more visible to my imagination than to my sight.

A week passed, and another; if I were to write all that happened, this would never end. We fought twice. Beaten by day, we came back at night with a hundred Khimairae and forty Fire Aelf. Org took our foe in the rear. A few days later we sighted a column of black smoke on the horizon, and three more brought the snow-clad peak of the Mountain of Fire.

We joined the king’s host. He sent for me, and I found him wounded, with Beel attending him. “We freed you to fight for us,” he said, “but you were too weak for it.”

I agreed.

“But not too weak to vanish. To vanish, and to take Lord Escan with you. What did you do with him?”

“I saw to it that his wounds were salved and bandaged,” I said, “and that Lord Payn, his son, remained to attend him. They are at my manor of Redhall.”

“He has no son.”

“Then it cannot be of Lord Escan that I speak, Your Majesty, since the man of whom I speak has an unlawful son who’s a baron of Jotunhome. Doubtless I’ve mistaken another for your Earl Marshal.”

Arnthor rolled his eyes toward Beel, who said, “These matters smack of gossip, interesting but unimportant. You brought reinforcements?”

“Fewer than a hundred.”

“How many?”

“Sixty-seven men able to fight, with twenty-two women to bend the bow.”

“And have they bows to bend?”

I nodded, and added that we needed more arrows.

“You bent a famous bow in the north. I have told His Majesty about that. Your shooting in the tourney, though good, disappointed him.”

“It disappointed me as well,” I told them. “Why don’t we hold another here? Perhaps I can do better.”

Arnthor said, “This is madness.”

“I agree, Your Majesty. But it wasn’t me who began this talk of tournaments. If you want me to command your forces, I’ll take charge and do what I can. If you want me to fight as one of many knights, I’ll do what I can still.”

“We command Celidon. Do you think us unable to rise from this bed?”

“I wish you stronger than that, Your Majesty.”

“We will be strong enough to stand when the time comes—to stand, and to sit a charger. We would make you our deputy if we could, Sir Able.”

I bowed. “Your Majesty does me too much honor.”

His smile was bitter. “As you say. You’re not to be trusted. We know it. You are of Aelfrice, however you may look, and whatever you may say. So are we, and know our own kind.” I believe he would have laughed as the Aelf laugh, but his wound would not permit it. “I was born in Aelfrice. My royal sister, too. Do you know the story?”

I nodded. “Your royal brother told me something of it, Your Majesty.”

“He is dead. We have tried to call on him for aid, but he is no more. Did you kill him, Sir Able?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Would you tell us the truth, Sir Able, if you had?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The bitter smile came again. “Would he, My Lord Beel?”

“I believe so, Your Majesty.”

Arnthor’s eyes closed. “I pray to Skai that the man who killed him join us, and quickly. We may have need of him.”

I said, “The Overcyns have smiled on Your Majesty.”

His eyes opened. “He is with you?”

Beel said, “The blind man? My son-in-law told me.”

I nodded.

“Setr was our brother.” Arnthor’s voice was a whisper. “We used... It does not matter now. Nor will we avenge our brother upon a man who cannot see.”

I knelt. “I speak for the Valfather and his sons, Your Majesty, having knowledge of both. It’s well to triumph over foes, but it’s better to deserve to triumph over them. No more than any other man can I predict whether you’ll win the day, but today you’ve done more.”

“Thank you.” The king shut his eyes as before, then opened them wider. “This man is blind, you say. We are not. Do we not know your helm?”

I held it out. “It is Your Majesty’s, if you want it.”

“We do not. We say only this: you are not to wear it in our presence.”

I swore I would not.

“We must hoard our strength. Tell him, Beel.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll be brief. Duke Coth was second to His Majesty until two days past. With his death the position falls on your liege. I’ve counseled His Majesty to summon him and urge that he be guided by your advice. There would be no mention of you in the formal announcement, you understand. Would that be agreeable?”

I said it would, and so it was done, Marder giving his sword to Arnthor (he sitting in a chair draped with crimson velvet and made to serve as a throne) and receiving it back from him, this witnessed by such peers as remained.

When we were alone, I asked Marder the state of our troops, although I had seen something of it already, and little that had been good.

He shrugged.

“You drove the Osterlings from Burning Mountain.”

“We did, with great loss to ourselves. We fought on foot. It was like storming ten castles. If the king had taken my advice, we wouldn’t have fought at all.”

I waited.

“We are crushed between millstones, Sir Able. Our men have no food, so we must fight while they can still stand. That’s one stone. The other is that we’re beaten. If you’d seen us at Five Fates...” He shrugged again.

He looked old and tired. His beard was always white, but his face was tired and drawn now. When I had waited for him to say more and he had not, I asked, “Is our hurry so great you can’t tell me about it? I was in Jotunland.”

“Where I had sent you. I used all my influence with the king to extricate you from his dungeon. He was immovable.”

“The king himself extricated me. Why is the battle called Five Fates? Is it a place?”

Marder shook his head. “It’s a tale for children.”

“Well suited to me in that case.”

“As you wish. The old Caan, the present Caan’s father, had no lawful issue. Bastard sons, in which he differed from our king. But no lawful sons or daughters, for his queen was barren. It became apparent to his advisors that when he died his bastards would rend his realm into twenty.”

I suppose I smiled.

“Would it had been so! He summoned a famous sorcerer and gave him a chest of gold. Perhaps he threatened him as well, accounts differ. The sorcerer assured him the queen would bear him boys, and went his way. She conceived, grew big, and dying bore not one son, or two, or even three.”

“Five?” I suppose I looked incredulous.

Marder shook his head. “Six. In all my life I’ve never heard of a woman bearing six children together, yet six there were, like as peas. There was no question of succession, because the midwives had marked them in order of birth, tying a red ribbon about the ankle of the first, a brown ribbon on the ankle of the second, a white ribbon on the third, a gilt ribbon on the fourth, a blue ribbon on the fifth, and a black ribbon on the sixth and last. Ribbons of the first three colors had been provided for the purpose by the Wazir. The rest they tore from their raiment.”

“And this is true?” I asked.

“It is, indeed. Our king has many ways of learning what transpires in Osterland, and all reported it. Besides, the young tijanamirs were clothed in those colors so they might be known in their order, and so they would know their places. The eldest was called the Red Tijanamir, and so on.”

“And the five fates?”

“Were the fates of five tijanamirs. As you may imagine, the appearance of six heirs in one birth occasioned comment. Seers were consulted, and one prophecy was repeated all over the realm, though the Caan forbade it. The seer had been asked—perhaps by the Wazir—which would reign, and if his reign would be long. He rent the veil and foretold that all would reign, and all would die young.”

I said, “That’s very good news, if it can be credited.”

Marder lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “Do you wish to hear the rest?”

“If it bears on the battle.”

“It does—upon the name we give it, if nothing else. This seer went on to foretell how each would die. The Red Tijanamir, he said, would be crushed by a stone. The Brown would be trodden into the mire. The White would die at the hands of his followers. The Golden was to perish in a gold fortress. The Blue was to drown. And the Black Tijanamir was to be run through and through with the sword the Caan wore the day the prophecy was made. What troubles you?”

I waved my hand and begged him to proceed.

“As you like. This prophecy came to be known as that of Six Fates, the seer having foreseen the fates of all six. The Red Tijanamir succeeded his father when we killed him. You were in the north, but I took part in that campaign, and Sir Woddet won great renown.”

“I want to see him. How did the tijanamirs die?”

“As the soothsayer had foretold, in every case. The Red Caan, who had been the Red Tijanamir, had removed his helm to wipe his brow. A slingstone struck and killed him, the first fate. The new Caan, the Brown Tijanamir, was trampled under the hooves of our chargers. That was the second. The White Tijanamir became Caan upon his brother’s death. Not an hour later, a lance pierced him through. Sure to die, he tried to end his life but found himself too weak. He begged his friends to kill him, which they did. Thus, the third fate.”

“I see.”

“The fourth was the Golden Tijanamir, as you may recall. He wore a golden helm, just as his brothers’ helms were red, brown, white, blue, and black. Sir Woddet’s point entered the eye socket, and the Golden Caan died in that fortress of gold. I rewarded Sir Woddet richly for the thrust, as you may have heard. The king rewarded him more richly still.”

I said, “I take it the Blue Tijanamir drowned.”

Marder nodded. “The dagger of a man-at-arms pierced his lungs, so that he drowned in his own blood, the fifth fate. The sixth tijanamir, whose color was black, is the present Caan. This is because the old Caan, hearing of the prophecy, gave the sword he had worn that day into his son’s keeping. We are told it is locked away in a sealed vault; it appears that as long as it remains there, the Black Caan is safe.”

I had my own thoughts, but I nodded to that. “It seems the seer erred. He said all their reigns would be short.”

“Seers err frequently,” Marder said, “but suppose we defeat the Osterlings in a month or two. Might we not take their capital, open the vault, and retrieve the sword?”

“We might,” I said, “if it’s still there.”

My inspection of our troops convinced me that winning was out of the question—our only hope was to march north, get as many more men as we could, and collect all the food we could find. If there had been any chance of terms and decent treatment, I would have told Marder and Arnthor to surrender. There was none; and although giving up Burning Mountain, won at such a high cost, shattered what little moral remained, we left it.

In the time that followed, there were days when I wished I were back in my cell. We marched north. The Black Caan, who must have known what we were doing very quickly, moved to prevent us and make us fight. We backed down the coast again instead, spearing fish in the shallows and scrounging mussels and clams. When our horses died (and more and more did) they were eaten at once.

I took the rear guard and had Woddet with me, and Rober, Lamwell, and others. There was scarcely a day in which we found no work to do, for the Caan’s skirmishers were swift, and being eager to drive us from our dead attacked boldly again and again. Like ours, their archers were hard pressed to find or make arrows; but they had slingers in plenty, and there were stones enough to kill everyone in Mythgarthr twice over. A shower of stones, a few javelins, and a charge—it was a pattern we soon came to know well. Broad shields were needed to ward off the stones; even our lightly armed soon had them, woven of palm fronds when there was nothing else. We knights formed the first line and took the brunt of every charge, sometimes slinging our shields so as to wield our lances with both hands, more often with shield and sword, fighting morning and night when we were lightheaded with hunger.

Gylf saved us, finding game where we would have found none, and killing it or driving it to us. Marder told me, when the army took six hellish days to bridge the Greenflood, that our rear guard looked better than the rest. I went to see the rest, and he was right.

We had marched north of Burning Mountain before the Caan halted us. That night (how well I remember this!) we saw its sullen glow again: light the color of old blood staining the sky A page came for me, a frightened boy; but before I tell about that, I must say that Gylf, who had fought like five score men and found food where there was none, had saved me in good earnest that day. I had fallen, and would have died had he not raged over me, killing every Osterling who came near. Marder heard of it, and asked to speak with me. That is why I went back and Gylf with me, to see the starved faces and empty eyes of a thousand men who had been strong.

“Sir Able?”

I had not known there were boys with Arnthor’s army, save for squires who were nearly men; but he was a lad of ten. I was wearing the old helm, having no other, though I had little wish to see the truth it revealed; thus I may have seen his dread plainer than he showed it.

“Her Highness must speak with you, Sir Able.”

I was angry at the condition of the men I had seen, and happy to have a target for my anger. “Morcaine has spoken to me before,” I told him. “I say to you what I said to her. She left me to rot in a dungeon, from which the brother she fears so much freed me. My loyalty is to him, not her. If she wants my friendship, let her earn it.”

He left but soon returned, more frightened than ever. “Her Highness says you don’t understand, that she doesn’t want to talk to you herself. She has company...” His voice had failed. He seemed to strangle, then tried again. “She does, too, Sir Able, something—somebody...”

His teeth had begun to chatter. While he struggled to control them I said, “The queen?”

“N-no. No, sir.”

“The king, in that case. Why didn’t she say so?”

The poor boy shook his head violently.

“All right, the Black Caan!”

He collapsed in tears. “I’ve got to bring you. She—she’ll kill me this time.”

“You will bring me,” I told him. “Come on. I’m tired and want to get this over.”

The Morcaine who greeted Gylf and me was a woman to the hem of her skirt, and a snake below it, the great, trailing serpent body prettily marked with runes of degeneration and destruction.

“Suppose you were king,” she said.

I told her she was speaking treason.

“Not at all. Someone very important is waiting to see you.” She gestured toward the rear of her pavilion, where a black curtain fluttered and billowed. “Still, we may have a minute to ourselves. My brother is sorely wounded. He is determined to take part in the next battle—he knows what happens to kings who don’t fight. No one would regret his death more than I, but suppose he dies. Who rules?”

I said, “Queen Gaynor, I imagine,” though I knew better.

“With you as her sword?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t blame you. She thrust you into that dungeon and left you to rot. You, her champion. Nor is she of the royal line. Perhaps she betrays my brother—perhaps she doesn’t. Guilty or not, my brother thinks her false and has told your liege and others. They might accept her in peace. Not now. Not here. Not three lords would stand by her.”

“You then,” I said.

“Better, because I’m royal. Bad still. I’m no warrior, and none of them trust me. Duke Marder?”

“He would have my sword.”

“An old man without a son.” Her laugh was weak and shaky; when I heard it I knew something had scared her sober. “Who leads this army? Who issues its orders?”

I said nothing.

“You would relish revenge.”

I could not speak, but I shook my head.

“How could you avenge yourself better than by marrying me? You could rape me twice a night. Or thrice. You look capable of it. You could have a dozen mistresses and throw them in my face. You could thrash me with the poker, and all Celidon would call me disloyal if I said a word against you.”

She brought my hand to her cheek. “How strong you are! How can you gain revenge if you don’t marry me? Think about that. You can have Gaynor’s head on a pike. I’m royal, but I’ll be on the other side of the bed, in easy reach.”

“No.” I drew my hand away.

“Listen! We haven’t much time. My brother will be dead in a month. No one will want Gaynor. Many will cleave to me for my father’s sake. More will want you. Wise men like His Grace will fear a new war, pitting brother against brother ‘til the Osterlings conquer both. Calling those who favor us together, we’ll declare our intention to wed.”

She paused, unable to see my face within the old helm, but watching my eyes. Suddenly she smiled. “Curtain! It’s what the jugglers say. Are you afraid to go in there?”

I shook my head.

“You should be.” She tried to laugh again. “I would be, and I brought him. Think over what I’ve said, beloved, if you come out sane.”

Perhaps I nodded or spoke; if so, I do not recall it. She or I or he pushed the curtain aside. I cannot describe the empty inferno there—there are no words. “Take that off,” he told me, and I could no more have disobeyed than I could have picked myself up by my belt.

The old helm gone, I recognized him at once, strong, sharp-featured as any fox, and crowned with fire—not the floating hair of the Fire Aelf, which only suggests flames, but real fire, red, yellow, and blue, snapping and crackling.

“You know me,” he said, “and I know you. You called me the youngest and worst of my father’s sons not long ago, and insulted my wife.”

“I meant no insult,” I said. “Would I insult two people I fear so much?”

“You boast of fearing nothing.” He frowned at Gylf. “You’ve stolen one of my father’s dogs. He won’t like that.”

“No,” Gylf said shortly. “He knows.”

“Then I don’t like it.” He smiled. “But I’ll overlook it. You need me. I don’t need you, not at all, except for fun. You know I have a kind heart.”

I managed to say, “I know you say you do.”

“I’m a liar, of course. I take after both parents in that. Not lying—I never lie—I offer help. For fun. Because it amuses me. Still, my offer is real.”

I only struggled to master my fear.

“You people complain of us—the same things the Aelf say about you. We pay no attention, we don’t care whether you live or die. What’s the use of becoming a druid? Why pray, when nobody listens? All right, here I am. Do you deny I’m an Overcyn?”

Gylf spoke for me. “No. You are.”

“Correct. Nor am I the least of us. Will I hear your prayer, standing here before you? I couldn’t miss it if I put my fingers in my ears. Kneel.”

I knelt, and Gylf lay down beside me.

“Excellent. If I told you to touch your nose to the carpet so I could put my foot on your head, would you do it?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’d have to.”

“Then we’ll dispense with it. Pray.”

“Great prince of light,” I began, “prince of fire—”

“Never mind. We don’t need that. Let’s just say I’ll grant three wishes. I know what they’re going to be, but you have to say them. What do you want? Not two, and not four.”

“Food. Enough for everyone ‘til we fight.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“More men.”

“Too vague. One man? Two?”

“Ten thousand.”

He laughed, a terrible sound. “I can’t do it, and you couldn’t manage them. Five hundred. That’s my best offer.”

“Then I accept it.” I had recovered some part of my self-possession. “And thank you most sincerely.”

“You’ll have to do more than that. The third?”

“Cloud. Your father gave her to me, but I lost her when the queen imprisoned me. I think she’s been looking for me, and I’ve been looking for her.”

“You’ve changed, both of you,” he told me. “You met the most low god.”

“Yes,” I said.

“He grants wishes, too, but he grants them in such a way that you wish he hadn’t. I never stoop to that.”

I said I was glad to hear it.

“However, you may feel that I stooped to something of the sort after I catch Cloud for you. Send her away if you do. She won’t cling like a curse, believe me. Still, she costs a wish. Do you want her?”

“Yes,” I said.

“All right. When do you want the men?”

“Now.”

“I can’t do it. I’m going to need time to work.”

“As soon as possible, then.”

“Fair enough. You may stand.”

I rose. He had been no taller than I when I knelt, but he had grown by the time I rose, so tall that I was afraid his crown would ignite the roof of the pavilion.

“Payment will be simple and easy, but fun. What’s more you’ve already done it, as we both know. Break the promise you made my father. Again.”

I could not speak.

“It’s letting you off far too cheaply, isn’t that what you’re about to say? I’ll like it just the same. He trusts you, and I enjoy salting his silly dreams with reality now and then. Will you do it?”

Looking up at him (for he seemed farther above me now than he had when I was on my knees) I could not help but see how handsome he was, and how shifty. “I’ll do it,” I said, “but you must give me the things I’ve asked for first.”

“What!” It was feigned anger. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I won’t argue. Do as I say or do your worst.”

“Which would kill you and every friend you have.”

I scratched Gylf’s ears.

“Do you think my father wouldn’t forgive me for killing a dog? He’s forgiven me far worse.”

Gylf licked my fingers.

“He’d die for you, of course he would. Would Disiri? Would you want her to?”

I turned to go.

“Wait! I won’t haggle, and I want to make that clear. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll get you the food and the men—half a thousand tough fighting men—as soon as can. Let’s say it takes...” He stroked his chin. “Ten days. When you’ve got them, you’ll have two of your wishes. Agreed?”

I nodded.

“At that point you must break your word to my father. Not just some technicality, three times and big and showy.”

I said, “Suppose three times isn’t enough?”

The truth, Ben, is that I had already decided before I went into that pavilion. If I could have pulled bread out of the air, I would have already. I could not. There were a lot of things I could not do, raising the dead and so on. But there were things I could do, and I had settled on them, although without Lothur I might have changed my mind.

Did he know it? Shape my payment as he did, because he did? It is possible he did, but I do not believe it. He is as clever and cruel as a den of foxes, and knows more tricks than a score of Vils; but his father sees far.

And very deep.