Knight Or Knave Read online

  Sea-Rovers," said one of their women who had been assigned to her. "After all, if they were tied to our beds, how would they go out and bring back treasures for us? But you don't have to worry, lady. It's too late in the year and we still have to prepare for winter. He'll often be there, to warm your bed." She giggled and thrust out her belly. "He has some work to do, to catch up. Most of our brides are full already by the time they're wed. Best way to get a husband."

  The rest of the ladies joined in the laughter.

  Ashen suspected none of this was a real joke. The window in her bedchamber gave her a fine view of the harbor and, beyond that, a patch of the blue water she remembered from the time she had gone through the caves, fleeing giant birds spawned by the Bog. When she had found Obern, wounded, and needing her care. The window had a strong set of shutters and could be covered with oiled skins as well, but Ashen knew that the pleasant sea breeze of today might turn into storms next week. She was glad that the bed given her was hung with heavy woolen curtains, to keep out the cold, and that each floor in the tower was well supplied with fireplaces.

  In the course of settling in and getting her bearings, she was surprised one afternoon the first month she was there, when Obem came in, in the middle of her taking out clothing from one of the chests to shake wrinkles loose, with a handsome boy perhaps ten years of age.

  "Here's someone I want you to meet," he told Ashen. "This is Rohan."

  "I wish you warmth and brightness of a good day, lady," the boy said. He bowed stiffly and Ashen smiled. He obviously had been coached.

  "Good day to you also," she said. "Are you a Sea-Rover?"

  "Not yet, lady, but someday." He looked up at Obern. "I want to be just like my father."

  Ashen stared at Obern, startled. Only now did she notice the resemblance. The same shape of face, same color of hair. " 'Father? Do you mean—"

  "Yes," Obern said proudly. "This is my son."

  A phrase that Ashen had been hearing all too frequently since her arrival in New

  Void echoed in her ears whenever she would do something that was the least bit different: "It is not the way of the Sea-Rovers." Sometimes she thought she would pull out her hair if she heard it just one more time. As she had during her days at Cragden Keep, she strove to learn, to fit in. One of the things she had learned was that a man's paying any great attention to his children also was not the way of the Sea-Rovers. And yet, here was Obem. And here was his son.

  "I—I didn't know."

  "Now you do. Rohan is being fostered by Dagdya."

  "Dagdya," Ashen repeated through stiff lips.

  "Yes, she is a wonderful foster. When my mother died of a plague, Dagdya took over completely and I don't think I turned out too badly. I hope that Lathrom will become one of his teachers as well." Obern beamed at his son. "I did want you two to meet, though. I hope you will become good friends."

  "Of course," Ashen said faintly. Fostering was, apparently, another part of the way of the Sea-Rovers.

  "I hope we will become good friends, too, lady." Then Rohan bowed again, and followed his father out the door once more.

  Ashen sat down, her knees suddenly grown weak. Why hadn't Obern told her before now that he had a son? Because, she answered herself, it was not the way of the

  Sea-Rovers. They did not give their children any great notice—at least the men didn't, any more than they danced attention on their wives. That much she had gleaned, even from her short stay at New Void.

  She put her hand to her belly, wondering if this was going to change, even a little, when her own child was born.

  "Obern, I must go to the Bog!" This argument had been going on for several days, and Ashen was finding Obem as stubbornly set against the journey as when she had first broached the subject, over a week earlier.

  "There is no need," he said, again. "You are just experiencing what every woman does, with her first child. I'll bring Dagdya to talk to you."

  "I've talked to Dagdya, and even she has come to admit that it is something more than that, something beyond her reckoning. I want to go to the Bog. I want to go to Zazar. She is the closest thing to a mother that I've ever had, and at a time like this—" She pressed her lips together firmly. Obern had gotten that closed look on his face that meant nothing further she could say would have any effect on him. The beginning of a plan sprang into her mind. "Very well," she told him.

  "I'll consult Dagdya again, though I don't think it will do any good."

  "Women have been having babies since the world began," Ob-em said. "This one is no different from any other, even if it is yours."

  She noticed he did not say "ours," but chose to overlook it. As much as he loved her—and she was certain that, in his own way, he did—still, he was a Sea-Rover.

  Now that he was back among them, it was only natural that he thought like one.

  Four months had gone by since first she knew she was carrying and there was a chill in her belly, where all should be warmth and, by now, the first faint stirring of movement. Instead, all she felt was a dull weight. And she felt ill such as she knew was not normal for a pregnant woman. She had experienced only a little of the morning queasiness that afflicted so many. Nevertheless, she had no appetite and no energy, either. When she picked up a tiny shirt she had once been working on, for the newcomer, she had no heart to stitch on it. She wanted only to lie in bed, thinking nothing, preparing nothing, waiting only to die—

  No! To think such a thing was to will it to happen.

  At first, Ashen had not welcomed the news that she was with child but she quickly changed her mind. A new life, a baby, would surely bring Obern closer to her, and her to him. Also, it would give her something with which to occupy herself, to keep herself from thinking of the one whom she had sworn to forget.

  And she had tried to keep her oath. But still, Gaurin came to her each night in her dreams, though of late his countenance had not been smiling, but rather wore an expression of grave concern. Sometimes he spoke, and his message, though blurred and hard to decipher, was one speaking of her needing help such as even he could not offer.

  Could she likewise be haunting his dreams? How else could he know that all was not well with her?

  She put that aside. Perhaps later, when she had reached Zazar, and the Wysen-wyf had put all to rights again, she would dare consider it. But for now, she must focus all her thought and what energy remained to her, on the task of leaving

  New Void and going, alone, back into the Bog.

  She must confide in Ayfare. When she told the maid of her plans, Ayfare nodded, though her forehead was wrinkled dubiously. "Aye, lady, I see that you would want your foster mother, especially tinder the circumstances. But to give Lord

  Obern his due, isn't he right to urge you to talk to Dagdya?"

  "By his lights, I suppose so. But Sea-Rover women are a sturdy lot and my guess is that Dagdya has never yet seen a woman in such straits as I feel myself to be in." Ashen shook out a pair of breeches she had filched from Obern's clothespress. "Bog-women are different. Many are ill shaped and have other flaws in their forming. Childbearing comes hard with many of them. More than once I have been in the vicinity of Zazar's hut when she was giving a woman the medicine that dislodges a dead child from her body. She sent me away, always, but yet I knew."

  "Lady!" Ayfare's hands went to her mouth. "Don't say it—"

  "I must face facts. I feel cold, where there should be warmth. If the child is not dead, then I surely will be, before long, for there is none here to tend me.

  I must go to Zazar."

  "Then go you shall, with my help, though I will worry myself sick, not knowing what is happening. What if some Bog-beast eats you? Or even worse? I have heard stories, and bad ones, too. I will come with you."

  Ashen grasped the maid's hands with her own, grateful for her loyalty. "I will be better, just knowing I am on the road to the Wysen-wyf," she said. "I know the Bog and its ways, and you do not. You must stay here. You would
just slow me down."

  "And you think that I was born in a rose garden? I can take care of myself, and you with me if it comes to that."

  Again Ashen demurred, but the maid was stubborn and eventually she gave in.

  "Very well," she said, "but you must go and get your own breeches. Skirts will just hamper you in case you have to run for your life."

  Ayfare grinned. "I'll be ready within the hour, and will get us a little bundle of food to take as well. All you have to do is say the word, and we'll be off."

  Secretly, Ashen was gladder for the maid's company than wor-ried about her safety. She dressed herself quickly in Obem's garments. Both breeches and shirt were much too large for her, of course, but she belted in the garments high over the coldness in her belly and laced thongs close together over both arms and legs. When she was finished, she felt they would do, though she wished for the shell leg-armor she had always worn in the Bog. Once she had braided her hair and put a hooded cloak over all, with Ayfare doing likewise, perhaps they would be mistaken for two young men going about an errand, by any watchers on the wall of New Void Keep.

  She knew the paths to follow in the Bog, and could lead them to Zazar's hut without incident. That is, providing they avoided serpents' stings and the Deep

  Dwellers—the giant luppers such as the one that had very nearly been her doom—were not on the prowl. That day, she had learned that they had a taste for live meat as well as Bog dead. It had surely eaten one of three young Bog-men who had once tracked her with less-than-honorable intentions. She rummaged through her jewel coffer, bringing out the small square of wood polished with age and much handling she had hidden under the lining. She held it to her nose; it still bore a faintly spicy scent. This was a hearth-guide. Unfortunately, though, she had set it on Galinth, the ruined city in the northern part of the

  Bog, where Zazar had left her to pursue the store of knowledge, and she had no other. She had not had the chance to set it on Zazar's dwelling again before

  Obern's arrival and her subsequently being taken by Harous and leaving the Bog.

  She put it back into the box. By the time she was ready, Ayfare had returned, already dressed for the road and bearing a bundle of what smelled like fresh bread.

  "Aye, I filched it from where it was cooling on the rack," the maid said cheerfully, "and some cold sliced meat to go with it. Also, I have a flagon of ale as well as water bottles and half a pastry." She held up a wrapped bundle which she then strapped to her back. "Now, with a cloak over all, I look like a hunchback."

  "You have done well," Ashen said, smiling. "Nobody would ever recognize you.

  Bind your legs with thongs as I have done, for there are those that sting and we must do what we can to avoid it. But be quick about it. We need to get started.

  I want to be in the Bog before night falls."

  "I'd rather be at your Wysen-wyf's hut by the time dark sets in," Ayfare said, quickly doing as Ashen directed. To her credit, she showed no sign of shrinking from the adventure before them. "Perhaps, if we put a good foot under us, we can get close."

  "If we're lucky we will be there by full dark. And if not, there are plants in the Bog that can make a light for us." Ashen drew the other of the treasures from her former life from the jewel coffer. "And if all else fails, I will try to put you inside the shadow of this."

  Ayfare eyed the circular stone, pierced so it hung by a cord, with some doubt.

  "Is it a weapon? Do you throw it at an enemy?"

  Ashen laughed, wondering how to explain the magic. "No. It— it makes a noise when I whirl it overhead. And it puts a shadow over me. It has allowed me to get away from danger more than once."

  "Then let us hope it works well enough for us both. Now let us be off!"

  Eight

  Despite the fact that Ashen could almost hear the cry of alarm being raised from the walls of New Void Keep, the two girls managed to make their escape unnoticed. They took the road across the river and then cut straight west, over open ground, toward the Barrier River. Once in sight of it, Ashen had little difficulty in finding the waterfall and the cave where she had once taken refuge from giant birds. Close by, she knew, was a ford and the girls made their way to the spot. Here, though the river ran shallow, it ran swiftly and they had to watch their footing as they waded across. The sun was a little less than halfway down in the sky.

  "My village—I mean, the village where Zazar lives—lies almost due west of us. If we keep the sun to our faces until it disappears behind the mountains, even a stranger could find the way. And I am no stranger. Also, the paths are clear to see."

  "Some of them. But others, I daresay, are not."

  "There I will guide you. Now, follow me and be careful. You are, after all, an

  Outlander." As am I by now, Ashen thought. But she did not say it aloud. No need to frighten the girl unnecessarily.

  They stopped at intervals to rest, and to eat the provisions Ay-fare had brought. As the afternoon drew on toward evening, the kippers began to awaken and take up their evening serenade. Mostly it was the cheeps and peeps and croaking Ashen had known from childhood, but every now and then, a deeper bellow could be heard from the depths of the Bog beyond the path, and once in a while a wild cry arose to be as quickly stifled.

  Ayfare reached out to take Ashen's hand. "It's only to help you in case you stumble," the maid said. Her voice trembled slightly.

  "Have no fear. We have made remarkably good time and, unless I have forgotten all my Bog-lore, the village is just around the next bend, and over a small hill."

  Now that they were almost at their destination, the store of energy Ashen had drawn upon for the journey vanished, leaving her faint. She willed herself to go forward, for she knew that Ayfare, good as her intentions were, would not fare well if she tried to go alone into the village where Joal was headman.

  Once they had topped the rise, they waited hidden behind such shelter as reeds and mossy branches could provide while Ashen observed the activity in the village. There seemed to be little, which might mean that most of the men were out hunting. Good, she thought. We can most likely get in by the back way.

  She led Ayfare, who needed no admonition to move with great care and stealth, along the edge of the clearing where the village was located, toward the back of

  Zazar's hut. There, a much smaller path had been worn where the Wysen-wyf was accustomed to heading into the Bog, though this quickly disappeared in the sodden ground, for Zazar had seldom gone the same direction twice.

  "Now," Ashen said in a low voice.

  The two girls hurried across the short stretch of open ground; and around the hut to the door. Without giving the customary identification whistle or the call of "Zazar hearth," Ashen pushed the curtain aside and stumbled over the threshold. Strength entirely spent, she went to her knees and then, with black sparks buzzing and blurring her sight, she collapsed.

  She floated in a dream-world, but one in which Gaurin did not visit her. Shadows moved back and forth just out of her range of vision, and once she roused just enough so that Zazar could lift her head so she could drink a potion the

  Wysen-wyf held for her. It was bitter. Feebly, she tried to wave it away.

  "All of it, Ashen," Zazar said sternly. "Drink it quickly and then you won't notice the taste."

  Then she did as she was told, after which she remembered little except pain when the muscles of her body contracted. Then something small, sharp, and very cold slipped out. She floated on a quiet lake of relief. How easy it would be to let go entirely, to sink down and down…

  Her head snapped abruptly to the side and her cheek stung. She opened her eyes to see Zazar hovering over her, hand raised to strike her again if necessary.

  "No, you will not die, hard as I've worked to bring you back!" The Wysen-wyf's words were like flung stones, each one hitting its mark. "Here, I've got broth for you. No, it isn't like the medicine. Drink it."

  Ashen knew that Zazar would drag her bac
k by force if she had to. The girl had to gulp from the cup Zazar held lest the hot liquid spill down her neck and scald her. Ayfare appeared on the other side of her, propping her up with one arm while with the other she took the cup and held it more gently, so Ashen could sip. "Thank you," she said weakly.

  "That's better," Zazar said. "I made it from some of the meat you brought, with plenty of salt in it. Now, when you can, kindly tell me why you waited so long.

  You were nearly dead when you got here."

  "My lady complained that she did not feel well. But her husband wouldn't listen to her, and the midwives knew nothing."

  Zazar grunted. "So you said earlier. But I want to hear it from Ashen."

  "Ayfare speaks truly," Ashen said, and was astonished at how much that short speech cost her. She could feel a little strength returning to her, with the warmth of the broth. "No one wished me any harm. They simply didn't know better."