The King's Name

  “Anything urgent?” I asked. Both men shook their heads. “Then is there any chance of hot water?” I asked.

  Govien frowned anxiously. “If you really need some, I expect so. The cooks have the fires lit.”

  “I’ll use the stream,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. “I see you, ap Darel. If it isn’t urgent I’ll speak to you when I’m clean.”

  I walked down to the stream. The cooks’ assistants had marked off a place upstream for drawing drinking water. So many had come down to bathe that it seemed as if a whole ala was in the water together. Even Cynrig had shaken off his modesty for once and was splashing about with the others. I plunged in to join them. It was a warm morning, but the water was as icy as if it had come straight from the twin peaks of fire and ice on the island on top of the world. Rigg had been there, I thought. Emrys had. I knew then that however vast the world might be I would never leave the island where I was born. Then Masarn splashed me and I whirled around to splash back. I went back up the slope goose-pimpled and needing to rub myself down, but with a much clearer head.

  Ap Darel was still waiting outside my tent. “I can show you here, quickly, I think,” he said. He took my arm and frowned at the scratch I’d taken yesterday at the battle. “Yes. Look at your arm.”

  I looked. The scratch was red-rimmed and slightly swollen. I looked at him in sudden alarm. “Poison?” I asked. “Is there much of it?”

  “No poison I recognize,” he said. “And ineffective for one. But it must be something like poison. It seems as if everyone who was hurt yesterday has a wound that looks angry and is healing more slowly than it should.”

  My scratch hurt, now I was thinking about it. I frowned down at my arm. Normally I would expect something like that to have scabbed over already. My arms bore the light scars of a dozen similar scratches I had taken over the years, and there had been at least as many that had healed without leaving any mark. I remembered how tired I had been after the healings the night before. “I will come and see some of your cases after I have eaten,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it either. It might be they poisoned the weapons. Though I wonder how Cinvar could have persuaded his people to agree to that. Or maybe they cursed them? Now I think of it I have read of a curse called the weapon-rot. It is named in the charm I sing over any cut that bleeds.”

  “It is in my charms too. And I have read of it in Talarnos,” ap Darel said, looking horrified. “He says the Malms suffered from it long ago. He says their wounds turned green and full of pus, and then their blood became poisoned, the wounds turned black, and the patients invariably died. He treated it with spiders’ webs and salt water, and said it was not found among civilized people but only among the barbarians from across the Vonar. He thought it not a curse but a disease.”

  “How could it be a disease? Diseases spread between people, they don’t infect wounds!”

  Ap Darel shook his head. “Talarnos was a frontier army doctor two hundred years ago. The useful half of his book is charms for when you haven’t picked up the weapon. Maybe he didn’t know much about disease.”

  “Well, now,” I said, as briskly as I could. “Whether it is poison, curse, or disease, it is nothing like what Talarnos describes. It is at least a red swelling, not a green one.” The thought of a green wound was too horrible to contemplate.

  Ap Darel frowned. “Can you see if there is anything you can do?” he asked hesitantly.

  “We are not in Derwen,” I said. “And I do not think it is a disease. But I will look.”

  I closed my eyes and felt for the scratch on my arm. Then I reached out for the Lord of Healing. He was there, part of the structure of the world. Concentrating, I tried the charm for preventing weapon-rot. It was the same as when I had tried to send Darien back before he was born. My will could not connect to the god’s power. I tried to see what was preventing me, but I could not. The gods were there. I knew better than to call on them for no reason, but I could feel their presence threaded through the world where they needed to be. There was some invisible barrier preventing that one charm from reaching the Lord of Healing. Another god? Somehow it didn’t feel that way. A person? I tried to push against it but it slipped away from me. Eventually I opened my eyes to see ap Darel watching me curiously.

  “The charm isn’t working,” I said shortly. “It is not a disease, whatever else it is. I will see the wounded, and then I will speak to the High King.”

  I dressed, ate, and visited the wounded. I learned nothing ap Darel had not already told me. When I went to see Urdo he was sitting in his tent with the side laced open. The sight of him sitting there so solidly in the sunlight reassured me that the world was going as it should.

  I found that he knew of the problem already. “I knew it before I woke,” he said. “The weapon-rot ran through my dreams. I think it is a curse, or something like one. It is something done by black sorcery, not by the power of any god. The worst news is that it covers the whole of Segantia.”

  “The whole of Segantia?” I repeated, feeling sick. “What can we do? How could anyone do that?”

  “Who is king of Segantia?” Urdo asked.

  I blinked. “You are.” I hesitated. “Or your mother is?”

  “Exactly.” Urdo pushed his hair back wearily. “It has never been an issue. I am High King. Rowanna has been ruling Segantia for a long time. I have never taken up the land or taken it from her. There is a crack we left there, meant in kindness, but used for ill. Through that crack this curse came. I can do nothing to break the curse, and I do not know whether Rowanna can. It is not a matter of the whole land, or I could break it, but of Segantia alone. I have sent a messenger to her at Caer Segant, asking her to come.”

  I remembered Rowanna fasting for the White God. “Will she know how?”

  “I don’t know,” Urdo said. “Her father was a king, and she has been ruling Segantia well for a long time. But this is not a disease. And she has often relied on Teilo to stand beside her on what is holy.”

  “Will Teilo come here as well?” I asked.

  “Mother Teilo is close on ninety years old,” Urdo said. “And I don’t know if she is with my mother, or off in Aylsfa with Penarwen, or even up in her monastery in Demedia. She was in Caer Segant the last I heard though, so maybe she will come with Rowanna. Even if she is there and she comes, I don’t know if she could do anything about this. I don’t know if anyone could. Maybe only killing the sorcerer would release the land, if blood has bound it.”

  “Morthu,” I said, quietly and with loathing.

  “We should not assume that,” Urdo said.

  I looked at him incredulously. “Why do you always think the best of him? What doubt can you possibly be giving him the benefit of now? He is a sorcerer and he hates us.”

  Urdo put his hands together and looked down at them, pushing his long fingers together. “We do not know if Arling has brought any sorcerers from Jarnholme,” he said, after a moment. “I could not see who had cast this spell, try how I might. And consider the power it would take, to stop a charm reaching to the gods. It would take more than the strength of anyone’s soul.”

  “Morwen used the power of other people’s souls, killing them for it,” I said, lowering my voice, although there was nobody near enough to hear. “He could be doing that.”

  “I can’t imagine how many it would take,” Urdo said. “Not just one or two. And they would all be our people. But it may yet be a group of Jarnish sorcerers.”

  “Most of them scarcely know enough charms to light a fire,” I said dubiously. “But I suppose it could be any sorcerer or group of them on the other side.” I was still sure it was Morthu.

  “If it is Morthu it might explain why Raul didn’t see him last night or this morning,” Urdo said. “Doing something like that would exhaust him almost completely, even if he was stealing souls to do it.”

  “It is the worst thing I have ever heard of anyone doing,” I said, remembering my relief when Ulf had told me he h
ad killed Osvran. “How can Flavien ally with him when Morthu’s mother took his father’s soul for sorcery!”

  “New times make new alliances,” Urdo quoted Dalitus. “They are none of them best placed for logic. Cinon accuses me of favoring the Jarnsmen overmuch, and not only makes alliance with Ayl, but invites in Arling Gunnarsson and his army.”

  “We haven’t seen Ayl,” I said. “I don’t think he wants to be allied with them at all. If Arling landed there, that might have startled him into being on the wrong side.”

  “It’s family,” Urdo said. “He is married to Penarwen, so he is standing with Angas, who is standing where Morthu pushed him.”

  “Family,” I said slowly. “Just like it has always been in Tir Tanagiri; family, and connections. But we have made the Jarns part of that pattern as well.”

  Urdo shook his head. “That pattern is there, it isn’t something it’s possible to change. But with the alae, and with the oaths that reflect the patterns going up from the farmers to the kings and from the kings to me, I have tried to set another strong order that supports the Law. If it is given time I think it will hold.”

  We had talked about this in our letters, and I knew it was important to him. I wanted to say something about different kinds of loyalty, and was turning the words in my head when Raul came up. His skin was very dark around his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. I wondered if he had slept at all.

  “They have agreed to meet at noon in the next valley east,” he said, without any greetings at all beyond a bare acknowledgment.

  “And what is wrong?” Urdo asked.

  “Father Cinwil is one of the priests acting as a herald for them,” Raul said, sitting down on the grass just outside the tent.

  “I thought he was in Derwen?” I said, surprised.

  “With your mother?” Raul asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “He was escorting Amala and Gomoarionsson to Caer Tanaga, along with a handful of my wounded,” Urdo said flatly.

  I bit my lip. “Did you ask about them?”

  “He assured me they are all safe,” Raul said, looking up at me. “But he did not say where. Amala and Gomoarionsson are valuable pieces to lose.”

  “I wonder where Thurrig is,” Urdo said, gazing southwest in the general direction of Caer Thanbard.

  “And Custennin,” Raul said. “And Guthrum, of course.”

  “Guthrum will do nothing, as usual,” Urdo said. “He has family ties on both sides and he has not grown old by taking risks. And before you say it, he keeps his sons firmly under his hand and we cannot guess what will happen when he dies.”

  Raul smiled. “Then let us leave what is out of our control and consider what is close at hand.”

  “Do you think there is a chance we can split them?” Urdo asked.

  Raul shook his head. “Not likely, not today, unless you can get through to Angas somehow. Arling and Ayl should be here tomorrow. So should Ohtar, all being well. Then, possibly. Cinon and Flavien may feel uncomfortable to see themselves sitting beside the invaders, and beside Ayl. But today will just be posturing, I think.”

  “I do not know if Angas will listen to me at all,” Urdo said.

  “He was so confused in his letter,” I said.

  Urdo raised his chin. “He has raised his banner but not yet fought against us,” he said. “I think he will find it difficult. I will speak to him if I possibly can.”

  “Who will go with you today?” Raul asked.

  “You must come, of course,” Urdo said. “I will take Darien, so they can see him. I will not take Atha, so they can see that there are only Tanagans there today. Cadraith and Sulien should be there, to show Flavien and Cinon that they do not speak for all the kings of the island.”

  Raul looked at me. “You will bite your tongue before speaking?” he said.

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. I know I’m one of the least tactful people in the island of Tir Tanagiri, but yes, I will do my best to be quiet unless Urdo tells me to speak.”

  “There is no need for that,” Urdo said, looking vexed. “Sulien is not seventeen any longer, to say what comes into her head without thought. She has been ruling Derwen very well for five years.”

  “Forgive me,” Raul said.

  I looked at him. “Have you eaten?” I asked.

  “Eaten?” he said, as if the word were an obscure Jarnish one he could not quite recall. “No, not today.”

  “I will fetch you some porridge,” I said, and went off to the cooks, letting them sort out the details of who would accompany Urdo to the afternoon’s talks. After delivering Raul’s breakfast I dealt with all the problems Govien had saved for me, and then visited the wounded again, though I could do no good.

  The talks that afternoon were as useless as Raul had said they would be.

  Someone had set up a splendid awning in the little valley, to keep off the sun. It was blue, which was as neutral a color as possible under the circumstances. The banners of all the kings we had fought yesterday stood on the far side of the awning, the Brown Dog of Tathal, the Snake of Tinala, the Crescent Moon of Nene, and the Thorn of Demedia. Angas’s Thorn looked to me as if it had been set up a little back from the others. On our side, although we might have flown all our banners and the ala banners as well, Urdo had chosen to set up only the green-and-red banner of the High Kingdom of Tir Tanagiri. The contrast was striking. Urdo, Darien, Cadraith, and I walked down behind Raul and sat in front of our banner. We were there first and so we watched as the others approached.

  Father Cinwil brought them. He was wearing a plain brown robe, so he and Raul matched. Flavien walked first behind him, wearing a dark red cloak and a jeweled belt and looking impassive. Then came Cinvar, wearing very splendid armor and looking defiant. Cinon had got fatter since I had last seen him, but his face was just like his father’s. His clothes were very splendid and he had the moon embroidered over his heart in silver. He and Cinvar both wore their pebbles prominently outside their clothes. Angas came last, wearing his praefecto’s cloak over ordinary clothes. He looked distant and reserved. He looked at me when he bowed to me, and then looked away as if he could not bear the sight of my face. He did not look at Urdo at all.

  They all sat down, opposite us, and proceeded to say nothing whatsoever in many words while the sun slowly moved down the sky behind us and our shadows lengthened. Cinvar spoke first, calling Urdo a tyrant and a usurper, ruling without the support of the land and people. He also called him a heretic, which sounded very strange to me. Urdo replied that neither land nor gods were unhappy with him, and only a very few people, whose grievances he would hear. He added that they were in rebellion against him, as rightful king, and in alliance with foreign invaders. He said they must surrender to his mercy and make their oaths again. He said that if they did this he would hear their grievances at the council of the kings. Then Darien, so smoothly that I would hardly have guessed it was rehearsed had I not known already, suggested that the council of the kings should be held twice a year at regular times, so that grievances and the governance of the land could be discussed. Angas spoke in favor of holding regular councils, but demanded that the Breghedan question be settled at one. He said that Urdo must give up his tyrannical practices and return to honor and moderation. I do not remember anything else of substance being said at all that day, though many words were spoken.

  When we rose at sunset, agreeing to meet again the next day, Urdo and I tried to speak to Angas. He looked straight through me and turned away to walk off after Flavien, his head high. There were tears glittering in his eyes; I saw them.

  “I think we made some progress,” Raul said.

  “Did you see how Cinon winced whenever we mentioned Arling?” Darien said.

  I stared after Angas. I realized I was rubbing the scratch on my arm only when Urdo put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “He feels trust has been betrayed,” he said.

  “I killed the one messenger he could trust to come to me,” I said. “
I can’t blame him. But it is hard when friendship turns to hate. It’s much worse with him than it is with Flavien, who I never liked.”

  “He was wearing his praefecto’s cloak,” Cadraith said, touching his own cloak. “He still knows what that means.”

  “He may yet see clearly,” Urdo said. “Poor Angas. I feel I was unfair to send Morthu back to him.”

  “I wish he would just talk to us properly,” I said.

  Raul and Darien were still discussing how they would split the kings when we walked back to camp. The rest of us were very quiet. When Atha and Masarn asked at supper how it had gone, I could find no words to tell them.

  — 14 —

  Be trustworthy and you will be trusted, seek out associates that

  are trustworthy and you will not be betrayed.

  —C. Dalitus, The Relations of Rulers

  The next day Morthu was there, and it was only then I realized how wonderfully well the negotiations had gone without him. Whenever he spoke he insinuated, changed the meaning of what had been said before, twisted words, and set people arguing. The worst of it was that so few people seemed to notice. Old Inis’s words, “Black heart and poisoned tongue,” kept coming into my mind as I sat listening to him putting in a word and sending the discussion awry. He had come from Caer Tanaga with Arling, apparently. He sat between Arling and Angas, dressed very finely, with his hair and beard silky smooth, smiling, always smiling.

  Arling looked like his uncle Sweyn, except that when I had last seen Sweyn he was pinned to the ground by Galba’s lance. We had not been talking for long before I had decided that such an accoutrement would have suited Arling well enough. He wore a pebble prominently on his chest, and from the way I saw Cinon eyeing it I wondered if this was part of their alliance.

  Urdo raised the issue of Caer Tanaga and the return of the queen. Arling, avoiding the question of the city, said the queen was safe, but he would first see the hostages Urdo was keeping in the alae; and gave a list of names, first among them Ulf Gunnarsson, Cynrig Athelbertsson, and Pedrog ap Cinvar.