Oath of Gold

  "How long have you had him?"

  "That was this winter—not long." Paks poured a measure of grain in the box, after sniffing it for mold. She pulled an armload of hay down and wedged it in the rack. "I had known that paladins had special horses, but—as you may have heard—I became a paladin in an unusual way. Not at Fin Panir. So I didn't know how—or even if—I would get mine."

  "What do you call him?"

  "If he has a name, he hasn't shared it with me."

  * * *

  The next day was clear again; they made good time along snowy trails that Garris remembered. That night they camped; the squires did not want to let Paks take a share of the watch.

  "I'm not the queen," she reminded them. "And I'm used to night watches—and younger than most of you."

  "But we depend on your abilities," said Garris. "You should take what rest you can."

  In the end, Paks simply got up when she woke in the midnight hours, and went out to see stars tangled in the bare treelimbs. When she'd used the little trench they'd dug, she spoke to Suriya, the squire on watch.

  "I'm wide awake, and I need to think. Go sleep; I'll wake the next in an hour or so." Suriya, the most junior and only a few years older than Paks, nodded and went into the tent.

  Paks walked around the camp slowly. It was a windless night, so quiet that she heard every breath each horse took. Her own came to her, crunching the snow, and leaned a warm head along her body. She put her arm across his back and stood for a few moments. Then she pushed away, and went on. Her taig-sense told her that nothing threatened nearby. She caught a flicker of movement between the trees. Another. Some small night animals skittering over the snow. Remembering Siniava, she checked again, but it was nothing—just animals. When the stars had moved several hands across the sky, she shook Esceriel awake and rolled back into her own blankets.

  The fifth day a snowstorm caught them between one steading and another. Paks had been uneasy since waking in the night, and had rushed the others through breakfast and farewells. She felt some menace ahead, which it would be well to pass early. But the storm began softly, so that they did not think of turning back until they were more than halfway to the next stopping place. A few flakes—a few more—a gentle curtain of snow that filled the tracks behind them. Then a wind that twirled the falling snow into eerie shapes. And finally the strong wind with miles of snow behind it, that turned their view into a white confusion.

  If she had been alone, Paks might have trusted the red horse to fight through the deepening snow and sense dangerous terrain. But with four others, and two pack animals—

  "Stop!" she yelled, as Esceriel's horse moved past her, drifting downwind. He reined in; she could just see him. She got the others into a huddle. Slowly they moved into the lee of a large knot of cedars; snow had already drifted head-high on the upwind side. In the struggle of making camp, Paks found herself taking command easily. By the time they were huddled in the tent, which had been cross-braced with limbs against the snow-weight, she felt at ease with the squires for the first time.

  "It's too bad we didn't bring lamps," said Esceriel. It was nearly dark inside the tent, and not far from it outside. Paks called light, and they did not flinch from it.

  "Handy," commented Suriya. "You never have to eat in the dark, do you?" She dug into one of the packs and pulled out sausage and bread. "I don't suppose you can heat this as well, can you?"

  "No," said Paks. "Unfortunately, this light won't even light a candle."

  "Oh well. At least it's light." They ate by Paks's light, then rolled up to sleep.

  The next morning they had to dig themselves out; it was still snowing, but not as hard. They stamped down a flat area around the horses, fed them, and Lieth climbed a drift to look around. She came down shaking her head.

  "It's deep; I can't see the trail at all. And it's still coming down as if it meant to go on all day. We can try to get out, but—"

  Paks shook her head. "No. We'll stay here. It'll be hard enough on the horses when we go; they don't need the bad weather as well. If you can't see the trail, you can't see the dropoffs either."

  Lieth looked relieved. "I know you're in a hurry."

  "Yes, but to find something. Not to fall into a hole in the snow." Garris laughed, and Paks grinned at him. "Gird's grace, companions, paladins are supposed to have sense as well as courage."

  Suriya shook her head. "That's not what I've heard."

  "You!" said Garris affectionately. "You're hardly old enough to have heard any tales at all. Why, you haven't even heard all of mine."

  Suriya groaned, and the others laughed.

  "I certainly haven't heard your tales, Garris," said Paks, still laughing. "We'll be here all day—when we've made a fire and have enough wood for awhile, I'll listen if no one else will." But it was some hours before they had time to talk. By then the snow had stopped, and the wind had died away, though the sky was still flat gray, like painted metal. They had trampled down a wide space before the tent, gathered wood, and started a large fire. The horses had been walked about, watered with snow melted over the fire, and fed again. A large pot of stew bubbled merrily; Garris had even set bread twists to bake in a covered kettle.

  And then Esceriel, on watch, whistled a warning. Paks reached out in thought, and found nothing evil. The next moment, she heard the familiar trilling whistle of the rangers. Esceriel called out. A few minutes later, two half-elf rangers stepped down into their courtyard of trampled snow.

  "We're glad to find you," said one, throwing back his hood. "We knew you were coming, and worried about the storm when you didn't show up at Aula's."

  "We should have known that King's Squires and a paladin would be safe," said the other. "But such storms can fool anyone."

  "You'll share our meal?" asked Paks.

  "Certainly." The first ranger turned to her. "You're Paksenarrion? Giron and Tamar send greetings; we met and passed two days ago. I'm Ansuli—no relation to the one you knew—and this is Derya."

  "If you see them again," said Paks, "please tell them I am grateful."

  "I will." He warmed his hands at the fire. "As late as it is, you might as well stay here tonight; we would be glad to guide you tomorrow, since the snow is so deep."

  "Stew's ready," said Garris. They all ate heartily. After that, in the long dimming hours before they slept, they all told tales of other winter journeys. Paks had no tales she wanted to tell, so she listened. Esceriel told of a wolf-hunt, one year when the Honnorgat froze solid enough to ride over and they nearly found themselves in Pargun. Paks could not imagine anyone riding out on ice over cold black water. Ansuli countered with a tale of winter hunting in the mountains, against "things like orcs, only bigger" that came in tribes and used slings loaded with ice and rock. Lieth told of the time she had tried to go from her father's house to her uncle's in a snowstorm, when she'd been told to bide inside. She claimed her father warmed her so that she forgot all about the cold. Everyone laughed.

  "Garris, I thought you had a story to tell," said Paks, turning to the older man.

  "A story! Lady, I have stories enough to keep us up all night. But if you want a snow story—though why anyone would, in this cold—did your friend the Duke ever tell you about crossing Hakkenarsk Pass in the winter, with Aliam Halveric and me?"

  "You?" Paks was startled. "I didn't know you knew Duke Phelan."

  "Falk's blade, I do indeed. I mean, I did. We were squires together at the Halveric's. Until that year, anyway; my father decided it was too hazardous a way to make a man of me, that fighting in Aarenis with Aliam." He chuckled and poked the fire. "Or maybe it was Aliam finally losing patience with my clumsiness; I was a slow lad, in some ways."

  "Well, what happened? I don't think you've told this one to me," said Esceriel.

  "Or me," added Lieth.

  "Maybe not." Garris nodded. "It's been a long time since I even thought of it—when I first came back I suppose I bored everyone in hearing for a couple of years
and then forgot it, as boys do. But it was an adventure, all the same." He poked the fire again, and Paks saw determined patience on the other faces around the fire. Perhaps Garris was always this slow to get on with a tale.

  "What happened was that Aliam was in a hurry to get home, one fall, and instead of going with his company through Valdaire, he decided to take the short way over the mountains." Garris paused; Lieth handed him a flask, and he took a drink. "Thanks. I was young, then—it was my first year to go into Aarenis with Aliam, though I'd been with him for nearly three. I suppose Kieri was a couple of years older—but then Kieri was always older. We could all tell he'd be Aliam's senior squire in a year or so, and we thought he might become a captain under him."

  "Where was the Duke from?" asked Paks.

  "Kieri? I don't know. I never asked. I'd never have asked him anything like that—not him. I was a little scared of him. Anyway, Aliam had taken us and four men and gone off north of Sorellin. There's a road partway, and then a sort of trail. And at the foot of the mountains, there's a village—or was. Someone told me it's gone now, and Sorellin has some kind of fort near there."

  Paks realized with a shock that he must be talking about Dwarfwatch.

  "It was coming on to dark," Garris went on, "and Aliam decided to stay in the village—they had an inn. Kieri and I were supposed to see to the horses, while he ate. It was a mean-looking place; narrow stone buildings and a cold little stream between them. Ugly. Anyway, we had finished with the horses, and were bringing Aliam's things inside, when we saw through the window what they were doing. They had already killed two of the men, and knocked Aliam on the head. Kieri didn't hesitate. He sent me to saddle the horses again, and get them ready. Then he went after Aliam." Garris stopped again to drink.

  "I don't know what happened inside. It seemed to take forever before Kieri came out with Aliam—I'd heard plenty of noise, too. Screams like I don't want to hear again. Aliam was dazed; Kieri helped me get him out, and sent me off leading an extra horse for him. He caught up to us some way up the trail, covered with blood. Horse blood, he said."

  "Said?" asked Esceriel.

  "You'll see. We took off uptrail as fast as the horses could go; that part of the trail is well-traveled, and easy to follow. Aliam could hardly ride; we held him on his horse. When daylight came, I could see the bulge on his head with a crease in the middle—I would have sworn his skull was broken. Kieri coaxed him to eat and drink, and cleaned him up—I didn't know what to do but follow Kieri's instructions. Later that day, Aliam seemed to wake up—he talked sense to us, and told us which way to go when the trail forked. And I realized that Kieri was hurt, too. His saddle had fresh blood on it when he dismounted."

  "How about you?" asked Lieth.

  "A few bruises from someone who tried to stop us on the way out, nothing else. He had sent me off, you see. Anyway, I tried to help him tie it up; he'd taken a sword gash in the leg, and another in the ribs. That night a troop of dwarves came on us—we were near the top of the first pass, the higher one. Aliam was well enough to tell them what had befallen us; they were not pleased, and said they'd heard ill of that village. Aliam offered that treasure of his which had been left there if the dwarves would avenge his men and bury them; they agreed."

  "So then what?" asked Lieth.

  "Then it got colder. I swear to you, I have never been so cold in my life—and never hope to be, either. The next morning, Aliam didn't remember the dwarves. We got him on his horse again—he could sit a little better—and I had to help Kieri onto his. Then up, and up, and the snow began. The horses slipped and skidded. We got off and led them; we had to go one by one, and we were afraid Aliam would slip and fall. But he didn't. That night it was colder yet. We had nothing for a fire, and not much food left. The dwarves had said it would be a half day down, after the first pass, then a half day up, and then two or three days down to the nearest settlement. We stopped at the foot of the second pass. Aliam discovered that Kieri was wounded; he'd lost much blood, and had frostbite as well. By the time we got over the second pass, Aliam was better, but Kieri was fevered. Once we got below timberline, we had to stop. He couldn't travel. That's when he cried—it was the fever, of course. Aliam held him." Garris poked the fire again, sending up a fountain of sparks.

  "Cried?" asked Ansuli. Garris looked up sharply.

  "Oh. Something between him and Aliam, I daresay. I didn't understand, and Aliam didn't explain. But for awhile it worried me—I'd never thought of Aliam as a cruel man—"

  "Aliam Halveric? Cruel?" The second ranger, Derya, sounded as shocked as Paks felt.

  Garris shook his head. "I shouldn't have said that—he isn't, I know. But Kieri seemed so frightened. It's nothing. Fever—wounds—and anyway it happened long ago. We were only boys. Only I was the younger, you see—I'd always admired Kieri, from the first time I saw him at Aliam's. He was the best with sword or spear, the boldest of any of us. And to see him so frightened—well, it frightened me. And it means nothing. I daresay Lady Paksenarrion can tell us how brave he is."

  Paks woke from a kind of reverie to find them all staring at her, waiting for an answer. "I never knew him to be anything but bold," she said finally. "I've seen him both in battles and in hand-to-hand fighting—he's the best in his own company, and one of the best I've seen anywhere."

  "You see?" said Garris. "The point is—I shouldn't have gotten off on that other, only it impressed me, being a boy back then—the point is that he got us all over the pass alive. And frankly, when I saw those villains bash Aliam in the head, and a foot of steel sticking out of Rollis's neck, I was sure we were all going to be killed. But he told me—just do what I say, and don't argue, and we'll see our lord alive out of this, gods willing, and so it came out."

  By then it was dark, and they all retired to sleep. This time Paks did not argue about being left out of the watch rotation. She had plenty to think about without that.

  Chapter Twenty

  They arrived at Aliam Halveric's steading just after midday three days later. An escort had met them at the forest border, ten men-at-arms and a boy Paks thought had the family look. He introduced himself as Aliam, son of Caliam, son of Aliam; Paks thought back to Aarenis and realized that Caliam must have had children before that year. She was glad for him. The boy was in his mid-teens, but already wearing mail and sword as if he knew how to use them. Paks was sure he did.

  On the way in he said little, only pointing out the steading walls when they came in sight, the location of the mill, the drillfields and exercise lots for horses.

  "There's a good ride south, up in the hills," he went on, eyeing the red horse with interest. His own mount Paks classified as good but aged. "If you stay that long—I mean—of course you're welcome to do as you please, but—"

  Paks did not wait for his tongue to untangle. "If we are able to stay, perhaps you will show us that ride."

  He nodded, not risking words again. Paks smiled to herself, but kept her face grave. As they neared the steading wall, she noticed the other houses scattered near it—only a few clustered together near the walls. She asked the boy about it. He explained that it served to prevent the spread of fire, and also made it easier for defending archers.

  "On either side, I should think," said Paks. Near the steading, the forest was cleared back more than a bowshot.

  "Yes. He said that's to give those inside a clear shot—the others have to expose themselves."

  "Do you really expect trouble from the forest?"

  "No." The boy shook his head. "Not for years. But my grandfather says to be ready for anything." He looked sideways at Paks. "Is it true my grandfather knew you before you became a paladin, Lady?"

  Paks looked at him. "Yes. In fact, I had to yield my sword to him once." She saw by the boy's face that his grandfather had gained in his eyes.

  "A paladin?" he breathed.

  Paks laughed. "I wasn't a paladin then. I was a common soldier, a private, in another mercenary company."

&nb
sp; "Yes, but—" he looked confused. "I thought paladins were knights before they were paladins."

  "Not all of them," said Paks. "I was a common soldier, and then a free sword, and then in the training company at Fin Panir—" She wished suddenly that she had not started this recitation. How could she tell a mere boy what had happened?

  "But when my grandfather knew you—" He jumped into the pause. "You were just a common soldier then? Not a squire or knight?"

  "No."

  "Oh. What company?"

  "Duke Phelan's, of Tsaia."

  "Oh—I know him. Grandfather doesn't have that chance often, to capture one of Phelan's cohorts. And the last time he did, it all turned out bad—I don't suppose that was when you mean. It was only a few years ago." Now they were near the gates; Paks did not have to answer that. Ahead, in the opening, Aliam Halveric stood to welcome them, flanked by two taller men that Paks assumed were his sons. He was even balder than before, but he seemed as vigorous as when she'd seen him last.

  "Well—Paksenarrion." He grinned up at her; Paks threw herself off the red horse and found herself wrapped in a bearhug. He let her go, and shook his head. "My pardon, Lady, if you mind it—but Kieri's told me so much of you, I'd begun thinking of you as our family as well. It's good to see you looking so well."

  She had never forgotten the warmth that seemed the essence of Aliam Halveric's character; here on a wintry day it blazed as bright. Now he grinned up at his grandson.

  "Get off that horse, you young ruffian, and take our guests' horses. Will you sit there like the king come visiting?" The bantering tone took the sting out of his words. "Come on in, Paksenarrion—may I call you so? And you squires, of course—be welcome here. Paksenarrion, you've never met my Estil—she would have come out, but had something to settle in the Hall."

  "My lord," said Paks, "I'd best take my horse to stable myself—he's not always easy to lead."

  Aliam looked at the red horse with open admiration. "What a beauty. Paladin's mount, eh? I'm not surprised he won't lead to any hand. Well, come on, then. I'll show you. Cal, if you'll take the squires in and show them the rooms; Hali, see to the baggage." And he strode off, faster than he looked, leading Paks across a large outer court toward an arched opening to the right. She had just time to notice that everything was trim and workmanlike: the court swept bare of snow, the well-cover neatly in place, no loose gear or trash. The stable was equally well-organized. Paks put the red horse into a box stall where water was waiting. As she had found usual, the horse showed no saddle marks. Aliam whistled softly through his teeth.