The King's Name

  Ulf turned his palms down, slowly. All the time he had been speaking, color had been leaving Arling’s face, until the pebble he wore was darker than he himself was.

  Ulf lowered his arms to his sides and spat hard at the feet of his brother. Arling bent almost as a man struck hard in the stomach would bend, though the spittle did not touch him but only landed on his shadow. His pale eyes flashed. “You have no power, no power to curse me,” he said, but his voice cracked. He looked to Morthu, who smiled and made a gesture with his hands.

  “There is no harm in such cursing, it is nothing but words,” Morthu said, also speaking Jarnish. What Emer had told me about curses came back to me, and I knew he was wrong. “If it will hurt anyone it will be himself. Let us think no more about it and go back to Caer Tanaga, and see whether the queen wishes to join these traitors and tyrants and adulterers.”

  Anger had been building in me all afternoon, and I was angry then. But that was not why I leapt. I could have taken one more meaningless insult, and I hardly knew for sure what the Jarnish word meant. But I was nearer than Darien, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him preparing to move. Before he could do anything to break the truce beyond mending, I leapt toward Morthu. I did not touch him. There was triumph and just a little fear in his eyes. I could tell that he had been hoping to provoke me, or one of us. I could see that Arling and Ayl were both moving to help him. As much as I wanted to, I did not break his neck. I moved my hand very slowly and put it on his arm, just at the edge of his cloak, where it was bare. We must have looked like people about to go in to dinner together. He stayed absolutely still, but there was no hidden laughter in his eyes now.

  “You say there is no harm in cursing?” I said, as loudly as I could. I saw Arling stop, then take a step away. “Well then, I, Sulien ap Gwien, will curse you, by the gods of my people, and we will see what comes of it. I will curse you, Morthu ap Talorgen, such that if you go to Caer Tanaga it will be your death.”

  As I said it I reached out to the Lord of Light and to the Mother and to the Shield-Bearer, and I wove their names with mine and Morthu’s into the curse. Then I felt the threads of the world shifting so that what I had said was true, and if Morthu went to Caer Tanaga he would die. I knew this as clearly as I knew that if I dropped a stone it would fall to the ground. I need not drop it, but if I did, it would fall. He need not go, but if he did, that would be the end of him. I don’t know why I picked going to Caer Tanaga especially, except that he had just said he would go there, in his insult to the queen. As I spoke the last syllable there was a blinding flash of light. I dropped my hand, and stood blinking.

  Morthu was lying on the grass. He must have dropped suddenly while everyone closed their eyes. “I am slain!” he wailed. “The demon ap Gwien has attacked me!”

  “A demon!” Cinon shouted. “A demon, I always said she was.”

  I looked around. Morthu was on the ground. Everyone else in front of me was backing slowly away. “I didn’t touch him,” I said.

  “Does this break the truce, Father Cinwil?” Morthu asked, in a faint but clearly audible voice. I could have stamped on his throat right then. I was ready to do so if the truce was broken.

  “I shall have to consult,” Father Cinwil said fussily, coming to Morthu and checking him for wounds. Naturally he found nothing.

  “I didn’t touch him,” I whispered to Raul as he came past me to join the other priest. He looked at me as if I were a toad someone had put into his bed.

  “Morthu ap Talorgen is unhurt,” Urdo said loudly, in the voice he used when he didn’t want argument. “The Lord of Derwen may have been rash to curse him, but he himself said curses have no power. Sulien ap Gwien is the queen’s champion, and it was too much for her, as it was hard for all of us, to hear ap Talorgen so malign her.”

  “But the light!” Angas said, his voice accusatory. “All that you say is well enough maybe; I do not think much of Gunnarsson and Morthu’s treatment of the queen myself. And anyone can lose their temper. But that light!”

  “That was not my light,” I said. Ayl was making a Thunderer sign with his fist, and moving away from me.

  “I will never sit down again with that demon,” Cinon said, clutching at his pebble.

  “Ap Talorgen is unhurt,” Father Cinwil said, at last, helping Morthu to his feet. “We will consult, and inform you.”

  We walked back up the hill, without Raul. “I’m sorry,” I said to Urdo as we picked up our weapons.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “If you had killed him, we’d have had to fight right away, and probably on bad ground.”

  “I wasn’t apologizing for not killing him,” I said.

  Urdo grinned. “I don’t think they will conclude that the truce is broken. And if you are a demon you won’t have to sit under that awning in the heat listening to all of that.”

  “Can I be a demon, too?” Ohtar asked in a deep rumble. “I don’t understand what they think they’ll gain. Do you think Arling will take gold for the queen?”

  “It’s possible,” Urdo said, not looking at any of us.

  “Do we have that much gold?” Cadraith asked. “Back in Caer Asgor I have some, but not here.”

  “Caer Segant is nearer, and not lacking in gold,” Urdo said. They went on up the hill. I was fumbling with the buckle of my sword belt.

  “That was a real curse,” Darien said to me, waiting.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Gunnarsson’s was a real curse, too,” he said.

  Ulf had only gone a few steps up the hill, his ax in his hand. He stopped and looked up for the first time since he had cursed Arling. “It was,” he said. He looked at Darien, and then at me. “I am so angry with Arling for being such a fool, for spoiling everything we have been building here. And I’m so sorry I killed your brothers, Praefecto. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

  He was right, of course. If my brother Darien had lived, everything would have been different.

  “It was not by your own will,” I said awkwardly.

  “I killed your brother Galba, too,” he said. “I don’t know if you ever knew that. At Foreth.”

  I hadn’t known. But it was a battle; we had been on different sides. It was a good thing nobody had told Aurien. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “He wants you to be the instrument of doom that kills his brother,” Darien said, as if this should be obvious to a gatepost.

  I looked at Ulf, who was swinging his ax nervously.

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh. All right then. If I get the chance, I have no least objection in the world.”

  — 15 —

  Delightful is a tree in full leaf

  a wonder are the roses of Summer,

  when a beautiful woman passes near

  somebody is watching.

  How can I sleep when your soft breathing

  fills the air of the hall?

  Alone in the dark I long for you.

  Everything reminds me.

  Delightful are the golden leaves

  a wonder are the berries of Autumn,

  when a beautiful woman speaks

  somebody is listening.

  How can I see when you are my horizon?

  When your shadow falls

  between me and the wide world?

  Everything reflects you.

  Delightful are the bare branches

  a wonder are snows of Winter,

  when a beautiful woman is sad

  somebody takes notice.

  How can your insolent husband ignore you?

  How can he slight your honour

  when I would long to give you

  everything your heart seeks?

  Delightful are the buds on the trees

  a wonder is the promise of warmth,

  when a beautiful woman looks up

  somebody is waiting.

  —Spring, Cian ap Gwinth Gwait

  Emer and her troops had come into camp while we had been at
the discussions. She and Atha were glaring at each other over Masarn’s head as we approached Urdo’s tent. Emer had her hand pressed to her face, which was usually a sign that she was unhappy.

  “Good Merciful Lord, have they ever been on the same side before?” Darien murmured to me.

  “Briefly, when they invaded us after Foreth,” I replied. Darien rolled his eyes and we went forward with Urdo, Cadraith, and Ohtar to greet them. Ulf and Cynrig left us to go back to their friends. I envied them.

  “I have settled the troops from Dun Morr near your ala, by the stream,” Masarn said to me when we had all exchanged greetings.

  “A good idea,” I said. My ala were more used to them than the others, at least. And that arrangement would keep them far away from Atha, which was nothing but good news. Most of Atha’s troops were still around Caer Tanaga, but enough were here to make it very awkward if Isarnagan rivalries took fire.

  After a little while of exquisitely painful politeness, I excused myself to bathe and visit the wounded. Cadraith went off to his own ala. Emer came with me, to settle her troops, she said. I noticed she was still limping a little from the wound she took in the fight in the woods. “What is that woman doing here?” she asked, as soon as we were out of earshot.

  “She has come to avenge Conal,” I said.

  Emer laughed and tossed her hair back in a way that made me think that she was very near tears. “Avenge Conal,” she said. “Atha the Hag to avenge Conal?”

  “He was her herald,” I said reasonably. I stopped walking, and so did she. “Emer, I know you want to avenge Conal yourself. I value your troops being here very greatly. The help you and Lew have given me in this time of trouble is beyond reward. I understand that you are from Connat and have a long-standing quarrel with Oriel.” I did not say that she had put aside this, and much greater causes for quarreling, in the case of Conal. “But do not quarrel with Atha now. Urdo needs her.”

  “I will not quarrel with her if she does not quarrel with me, but do not ask me to eat with her,” she said. “And when we fight, do not put me next to her in the battle.”

  “Battle command will not be up to me, but I will tell Urdo what you have asked,” I said. “As for eating, that should be easy enough, if there is a bloodfeud between you.”

  Emer put her hand to her scar. “Does this count?” she asked.

  It didn’t, of course, as long as it had happened in the usage of war. But she knew that as well as I did. “Emer—” I began hesitantly.

  “Conal would never have wanted Atha to avenge him,” she said quietly.

  “Conal would not have wanted you getting yourself killed, either,” I said bluntly. “He said so to me, when he was dying.”

  “It isn’t his choice,” she said, staring straight ahead. “You don’t understand. When you love somebody that much and they are gone.” She shrugged.

  “But you have responsibilities still,” I said. “Dun Morr, your daughter, Lew.”

  She looked at me as if I were reminding her that the floor would need sweeping and the eggs gathering. “Have you ever known someone and when you are with them it is as if the sun has come out?” she asked. “And when they are not there, you are in the shadow? So that a room that does not have them in it is the same as an empty room? And when you see them you know that here the patterns of the world make sense again, because you are together? My whole life—”

  It had been a very difficult day. I was fighting down the urge to tell her she was talking like a spoilt child, and not like an adult and a queen who should understand duty. It was a great relief to me when she stopped talking, in the middle of the sentence, with her mouth still open. I turned around to see what had startled her so much.

  Teilo and Inis were walking toward us, talking furiously. Inis was waving his arms about with great emphasis. Otherwise the camp seemed much as usual. Someone was cooking lamb not far away, and the smell made me hungry.

  “Inis ap Fathag!” Emer said, hardly above a whisper.

  “He’s calling himself Inis, Grandfather of Heroes, now,” I said. “He came with Atha.”

  Emer laughed. “Oh, that is so like him. He’s as cracked as a pot; he has been for years, though if you don’t ask him questions he sometimes talks sense. I knew him when I was young and was fostered in Oriel, before the war. But I am amazed to see him here. I thought he’d never leave his trees again. Conal told me he hasn’t left the grove since Darag died.”

  They were almost close enough to speak to, and I could hear Teilo’s raised voice: “I don’t believe that God has turned against the High King, but how can I blame people for questioning?”

  They came to a halt next to where we were standing. “Greetings, Mother Teilo, Inis,” I said, bowing.

  “Well met with the Merciful Lord’s blessing, ap Gwien, ap Allel,” Teilo replied, bowing to us in turn. She was looking well. She had been lined and ancient ever since I had known her; five years had not made much difference. She looked like a hazel tree, old and gnarled but still capable of standing up to the winter wind. The brown robe she wore only emphasized the comparison.

  “Greetings, Mother Teilo,” Emer said. “And a good day and a welcome to the island of Tir Tanagiri to you, Grandfather of Heroes.”

  “Greetings, Granddaughter,” Inis said, smiling at Emer.

  “What, will you claim every hero you meet as a grandchild now?” asked Teilo, smiling. “What about ap Gwien, here?”

  To my surprise Inis bowed deeply to me. “Greetings, hero,” he said. I could feel my cheeks heating. “But as for little Emer,” he said, turning back to Teilo, “I am entitled. There are more worlds where she marries one of my grandsons than worlds where she doesn’t. Even in this world—” Emer took a rapid breath. I closed my eyes, expecting him to blithely betray all Emer’s secrets to Teilo. “—she was betrothed to Darag, before he so rashly married Atha,” he concluded, smiling wickedly at Emer.

  “Is the Dowager Rowanna here with you?” I asked Teilo, to cover my embarrassment.

  “She is here in the camp,” Teilo said. “We arrived from Caer Segant only a few hours ago. She is resting from her ride and will greet her son later. I have been to visit some of the wounded.” She shook her head sadly. “Inis and I have been discussing this terrible curse.”

  “Urdo told me it lay on the whole land of Segantia,” I said.

  “What curse is this?” Emer asked.

  “It is the weapon-rot,” Teilo said. “Those who took wounds in the battle are not healing as they should because the charm to protect against the weapon-rot is not reaching the gods.”

  “All the gods?” Emer asked, clearly appalled.

  “Ah, there you have put your finger on it,” Teilo said approvingly. “It is not reaching the White God, Ever Merciful.”

  “It is not reaching the Lord of Healing either.” I said.

  “No?” Teilo looked at me sharply. “And by what name are you calling him?”

  “Graun,” I said, surprised that she would ask such a personal question.

  “Graun,” Inis echoed.

  “And have you only sung the charm, or tried to reach for him as well?” she asked.

  “Yes, both. My way felt blocked. It was very unusual.” I did not want to tell them about trying to send Darien back, or when Morwen was trying to kill me, but those were the only other times I had ever met anything that blocked my way to the gods.

  “I have been looking for some heathen Jarnsman in the camp who knows enough of healing to do more than sing the charm by rote, and who will speak to me enough to name what god they are calling, but I have not found one yet. Either they clutch their pebbles tightly and ask me to pray for them, or they will hardly speak to me at all.”

  “Ohtar will know,” I said. “I will take you to him and ask him to speak to you.”

  “But the charm is not working for the heathens, either,” Teilo said. “So whatever name they are using, that god is not hearing their request.”

  “That i
s much too wide in scope to be a curse,” Emer said. “Unless a God has cursed us.”

  “I don’t feel the Gods are angry. And Urdo said it was a spell,” I said. Over Emer’s shoulder I could see some of Cadraith’s ala exercising their horses and laughing as if the world were nothing but sunny evenings on grassy slopes.

  “It is some sort of sorcery, clearly enough,” Teilo said.

  “No spell could close all the eyes of all the gods,” Inis said.

  “I agree, but why are people’s wounds rotting in front of our eyes?” Teilo asked. “The same charm will reach any god, if you weave their name into it. It is rare enough to do it, for anyone. What use to ask Graun for help fishing when it is Nodens who understands how to fill your nets? But there are charms I was taught as a girl to sing to Breda, which I have been singing to the White God and having them answered.”

  “There are a lot of people in Tir Isarnagiri who know all about that, since you sent St. Chanerig to us,” Inis said.

  “Saint, indeed. I didn’t send him, and well you know it,” Teilo said, unperturbed. “The dear Lord never spoke a word to me about your island; my concern has always been with my own people.”

  “Are you saying that it makes no difference what god you worship?” Emer asked.

  Teilo and Inis both turned on her so fiercely that she took a step backward. “It makes all the difference in the world!” Teilo said. “When I came to realize that there was one God greater than the others, who we could all worship together, whose mercy and forgiveness could set all things right, it changed everything.”

  “It is people that are the same,” Inis said.

  “The charm is the same, you mean?” Emer asked, almost timidly. Hardly like a question at all.

  “Yes. The charm itself is the same, except for the name, though the answer may be a little different. How could a charm be stopped?”

  “So is the spell stopping the charm?” I asked. “As if it were a spear I reached toward the gods and the spell blocks the spearpoint?”

  “If you pray to Graun, and if I pray to the Merciful Lord, and Inis prays to Miach, and none of the charms are heard, then yes, it seems as if the spell is blocking the charm itself from working,” Teilo said. She was very free with the names of the gods in her speech. The gods are not people who need to keep their names close, but it made me uncomfortable all the same. It didn’t seem polite.