“I am ap Gwien, and this is ap Trivan,” I said, indicating Emlin. Emer again inclined her head and the man bowed. “Now, first, what brings you in arms to Tir Tanagiri?” I was looking at the man, and I saw his eyes flick to Emer. It was very clear he was asking permission to speak. That must make her his superior. This was all very interesting and very strange.
“The king of Anlar has come in arms to win a kingdom for himself across the Windy Sea,” he said. This really was terribly bad news, whoever the king of Anlar might be. I had never heard of Anlar. It was not Black Darag’s kingdom, Oriel, nor yet Allel’s Connat. I had no idea if it was some cloak-sized kingdom, as so many are in Tir Isarnagiri, or a place as large as Demedia that I did not know about because I had not been paying attention at the right time. I glanced at Emlin, who was looking in fascination at the woman.
I drew an even breath and spoke as calmly and formally as I could. “Then the king of Anlar had best turn around and take his ambitions back to his own island, for this land he disputes is held by Morien ap Gwien, Lord of Derwen, and through him it is part of the kingdom of the High King Urdo ap Avren and it will be defended against you.”
“Urdo and Sweyn are so bound up with each other neither will turn us out of this corner,” Emer said, “And you children of Gwien have little more than a hundred and fifty riders here, and perhaps another thirty inside the walls. We are here in strength.”
“Your news is old,” I said, “Or you have come too late. Sweyn Rognvaldsson is dead. He fell by the hand of Galba ap Galba on the field of Foreth close on half a month ago. Urdo has made a great Peace with the Jarnsmen of Bereich and Aylsfa and our ally Alfwin Cellasson is ruling Tevin. I may have only one ala to my hand here, but more will come hastening at my word. You had best go home, Isarnagans, before our horses push you into the sea.”
“Is this tr—” began Fishface, and stopped as I felt my lips draw back from my gritted teeth. “I do not doubt your word, Lady,” he said, hastily, “but this is much later news than we have.” Emer touched his hand, probably as amazed at his temerity as I was. He stopped and looked down at her, frowning.
“What will you do with us?” she asked.
“I haven’t decided,” I said, honestly. “You know we’re here, and in what force, which the rest of your troops don’t yet. I will not let you go. It’s also clear to me that you are more than just ordinary scouts, and there may well be a ransom.”
“There will,” said Emlin, quietly beside me. “If the lady is not that daughter of Allel of Connat who married Lew ap Ross, the king of Anlar, then she must be her sister.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was the look on their faces. “My mother always told me that I should pay attention to gossip because there was a lot to be learned from it,” I said, slapping Emlin on the back. He grimaced at me, and I realized he had meant to be subtle in giving this information so they would not guess I had not already known. I choked back another laugh, and Emlin sighed. I could see this was doomed to be another story going about the alae about my stupidity.
“I have only one sister,” said ap Allel, stiffly. I coughed a little, not meeting Emlin’s eye. I thought I understood why they might be visiting the woods now, if they were married to other people. Even in the alae, though we do not make much fuss about who shares blankets as long as everyone is happy about it, being together without her husband’s knowledge would be a shocking thing. Breaking marriage vows is oathbreaking, after all. How could anyone take such a stupid risk for the sake of half an hour, even if they found pleasure in it?
“I take it this is not your royal husband?” I asked. Emer shook her head. The man stared straight ahead. “Do you think your husband would take his army back to Anlar as a ransom for your safety?” I asked, hopefully. Emlin sighed at me. Emer shook her head again, more forcefully
“I somehow think not,” she said, drily. “Though you are free to ask him yourself. I might, of course, try to deceive you as to my value.” She smiled. “But by all means let us speak frankly.”
“Let’s sit down,” I said. “If we had your friend’s name and your oaths of peace I would send for some food and drink and make you my personal guests.”
“It is not possible,” he said, helping Emer to sit down on the damp grass. He showed great care for her arm.
“It’s not that difficult, is it?” asked Emlin. “Nothing need be said about sharing blankets in the wood. If the lady says she woke very early this morning and wished to walk away from the camp. And if you had been on duty part of the night and so you were also awake … Then you decided to accompany her in case the woods were unsafe, as indeed they proved to be?”
It was a good enough story, but very thin. I knew armies by now, even if it were the truth and the Lady of Wisdom herself came down and swore to it, nobody would believe it, though before her husband they would pretend to.
“Thank you for your kindness in invention, but I am no fool, and that is not good enough,” said Fishface, giving his words a little sharpness. “To give my name would be my death, as I said, and probably the daughter of Allel’s as well. But if you three would eat I would quite understand being excluded.” I was hungry, but I shook my head. It was unthinkable. The whole thing would have made more sense to me if it had been her name they refused to give. There were only two possible explanations. He might be her close kinsman, or her husband’s, so that their being together broke the law of the Mother. Or there might be a bloodfeud between their kindreds which Emer had forgiven personally but could not persuade her family to forgive. This seemed most likely. It was sad; it reminded me of the old songs about doomed lovers my sister Aurien had once sung endlessly, bent over her sewing.
“Well,” Emer said, when we were all sitting, “I believe your news about Sweyn and the Jarnsmen, but we also know things you do not. Our force is not the only Isarnagan one to have landed. I suspect the reinforcements you expect may be distracted by Oriel’s and Lagin’s armies in western Demedia and in Wenlad.” I could only think how much worse it would have been if this alliance of our enemies had come before Foreth. I hoped those armies were not as great as this one. I could not see how they could be unless they had emptied the whole island of Tir Isarnagiri. Emer had a great air of sincerity, and I did not doubt her for an instant. She seemed very regal, even more so than her sister. I was told much later by those who knew her that Emer was very like their mother, Maga, who had ruled a great kingdom and conducted wars and alliances in her own right. She had ruled very well, though of course it all fell apart when she died. This always happened in Tir Isarnagiri.
“Can you negotiate for your husband’s army?” I asked. “Are you his war-leader?”
“I am not,” she said, and touched her scar and smiled. “Thank you. I have no authority to negotiate, but I can tell you in truth what my husband Lew ap Ross will do. He is an old man and no great warrior. But he has four thousand fighters here, and he will never go home alive without land. The people have come to settle—we gave up land to Oriel and in return they lent us boats and help for this venture.” Her eyes rested on the Isarnagan for just an instant as she said “help.” He sat looking from her face to mine as we spoke. If he was from Oriel and she was born in Connat, that was almost enough to explain the problem. There had been many wars between those lands.
“Why did you all decide to leave?” Emlin asked.
“Many people wish to leave Tir Isarnagiri since Chanerig ap Thurrig defeated the gods at the last Fire Feast of Bel,” said Fishface wryly.
I sat up straight and wondered if I was dreaming. “Chanerig did what?” I liked Thurrig a great deal, but Chanerig I found even more stiffnecked and annoying than Marchel. He was a monk and had sworn vows of abstinence from touching women and from eating meat as well as the usual vows of devotion and poverty. (Almost every woman I knew had said at sometime or another that she found it no hardship to think she could not touch Chanerig.) He almost never talked about anything other than the wonders of t
he White God. Raul might think that there was no honor other than in serving the White God; Chanerig seemed to think that nothing else was even slightly interesting. He was a single-minded fanatic, and he did not like me. I had never imagined him defeating gods.
“There was a mighty protection set on the island of Tir Isarnagiri that no great evil could ever come as long as we kept up the wards,” said Emer. “One of those wards was that twice a year, at the festival of the Lord Bel and on the Day of the Dead all the fires of the island should be put out and then the first fire relit on the Hill of the Ward, and all the other fires be lit only as they saw that fire. It was a wonderful sight every year to stand on a hilltop and see the fires spreading across the land making a chain of lights. When I was a girl in Connat I thought nothing could be more splendid, but it is even more beautiful farther north in Anlar. But just this last year, on the Feast of Bel, Chanerig ap Thurrig lit a fire at Connat before the fire was lit on the Hill of Ward. Many gods and spirits of the land—and many people, too, angry at what he had done, rushed there and fought him all night and at morning he was still alive and his fire was still burning, so most acknowledged defeat and worshiped his god. Almost all of the land spirits did this. It was part of their nature. And some gods worshiped the White God and some sank down into the earth and others left over the waters. As for the people, it seems we must live in a land that is given to the White God or leave.”
“What a dreadful thing to do without consent,” I said. They looked at each other, and I misinterpreted what they didn’t say.
“Thurrig is in Urdo’s service and my friend, but I do not approve of that action.”
“Nor do I,” said Emer.
“So you left?” I said. Emer raised her chin.
“So Chanerig won over the whole island?” asked Emlin. I could not quite believe it either. Arvlid would be pleased. I was amazed and horrified. I was afraid they would find a way to do the same here, and that what they were doing was the same only slower.
“Not all the people are reconciled to it,” said Fishface.
“So you thought you would bring your gods and make a new start here?” I said.
“We did,” Emer pushed back her hair with her good hand. One tendril had come loose from the coils. “We have come here to the empty lands to make them our own. We’re not going to go back.”
“That’s fairly told,” I said. “So, it seems it must be war, and I am back to wondering what I am to do with you two.”
She drew breath. “Lew will not pay a great ransom for me. In some ways he might be glad to be rid of me, I have given him no children yet, and I represent for him an alliance that he has repented of. If you want a ransom you would get more from my sister. I would say from my father and my brother, but it would be wrong. Though they value me they have little enough wealth these days. I am speaking of myself as your captured piece on the fidchel board.” She smiled as she said this last.
“Captured pieces can not change color,” I said, “but people may and sometimes do change sides. You have been honest with me. If you would rather be sent to your sister than handed back to your husband that is within my power. Nor would I ask for a ransom from my Queen. I think you misunderstand the situation in Tir Tanagiri.” To say the least. I wished I was better at putting things delicately. “I am neither tyrant nor bandit. I am not working for my own personal gain in this situation, although this land is held by my family. I serve the High King Urdo and the High Kingdom. I am Praefecto of his own ala. I can have you sent to Caer Tanaga. I will see that it is done as soon as I can spare an escort. What happens there will be up to Queen Elenn and the High King, but I would think it very possible they would help you put aside your marriage so you two can be together—”I thought Elenn might be more ready to forgive an ancient bloodfeud for her sister’s happiness than their father. Also by that time Lew would most likely be dead, which would make the situation much less complex for Emer.
“No.” Fishface raised a hand and spoke passionately. “You misunderstand. We cannot be together. We are not together now. We have never been together. We do not wish to be together. If you could forget that you ever saw us together we would be grateful. Nor do I have any desire to be sent to Caer Tanaga. Do with me what you would do with any prisoner.”
“Very well,” I said. “Though I cannot ask Black Darag for a ransom for a nameless man of Oriel. And a prisoner would usually be sent to Thansethan to labor, and to take an oath of peace you would have to give your name.” I sighed. He appeared to be an almost insurmountable problem. I almost wished he had been killed rather than captured. Emer was a problem, too, but once I could get her to Elenn she would be out of my hands. “You can’t spend the rest of your life refusing to tell anyone your name,” I added.
He shrugged. “Maybe I had better take a new one and start going by Fishface,” he said, unblinkingly. “I admit it is a very vexing problem. Twelve of your horsemen have seen me with my lady, so has the healer, the two of you, the guards, Tia alone knows how many others among the camp here. Maybe I can find a childless rider to adopt me in the sight of the gods and give me his name?”
“If it is death for you two to be together,” said Emlin, crisply, “As I have little doubt you are telling the truth, then why did you leave your people and go wandering in the woods together in the first place. Neither of you seems like a fool to risk so much for a moment’s pleasure.”
I looked inquiring as the two Isarnagans exchanged uneasy glances.
“We had no idea you would be here so suddenly,” Emer said. “We thought there were no enemies around. We would have been back in plenty of time.” I have never understood that kind of passion.
“And I was to return to Black Darag in the next day or two, as soon as the town fell,” Fishface added, “It might have been our last chance to see each other for some time.” He smiled at Emlin with easy charm, “I am flattered not to seem like a fool, but I will have to admit it is all illusion.”
“It would have been such a long time apart,” Emer added.
He looked back at Emer and smiled. She took his hand and looked up at him with an expression that would have made honey seem sour in comparison. I rolled my eyes, thinking that not even incest or bloodfeud was enough of a barrier to that sort of thing.
“And if I don’t believe that, what?” Emlin asked. “You weren’t running away, you could have got a lot farther before you stopped.” I don’t know if they would have told us, but it came to me suddenly.
“Did they actually have a blanket?” I asked Emlin. Before he could answer I turned to Emer. “No blanket, eh? Was it the old kingship rite to claim the land?”
“What are you talking about?” Emlin asked.
“When the king is crowned with a circle crown it is a ritual enactment of marriage with the land,” I said, thinking how recently Urdo’s own marriage with Tir Tanagiri was consummated. “Long ago it was done less symbolically.”
She raised her chin defiantly. “Lew is an old fool, but I can rule a land and bring in our gods.”
“Did you succeed?” Emlin asked.
“We were interrupted,” the man said.
Without thinking I reached out for the land gods that lived in Derwen and felt them respond. I should not have been able to do it. I worried from then until I saw him if my brother Morien might have been killed by the Isarnagans. Only the lord should be able to reach them. Perhaps it was because I had spoken to the Mother. Perhaps it was because I was the heir and reaching in urgency. I found them. Green and growing they were, like the roots of trees and reflections of leaves in deep beds of forest pools. They were quietness and rising sap and rustling leaves and the snow a deer dislodged slipping between trunks was loud as it reached the ground. They were the scents of stone and water running. They did not have human shape or speak in human voices, but I knew them. I knew them as they knew me, as I knew how to run from here to my father’s house and never trip and duck under branches without looking, as I could nev
er do in the woods around Caer Tanaga though I should live there all the rest of my life.
They knew me, and I saw myself as I was to them, a moment in a reaching chain of people, feet and flying hair and hoofbeats falling. Apple died at Caer Lind and I never knew what Sweyn’s men did with his body. But to the land gods of Derwen he was part of who I was and as they showed me myself I saw him, too. Seated on his back, where I belonged, in the heart of deep forest I reached out to feel disturbances in the land. Emer had not disturbed the balance. She had not had time to reach them. But they were aware of the Isarnagan hordes. I felt them crowded around the town, constricting it, draining the water. Then I was galloping freely on Apple’s back away west, to the part of Derwen where hardly anyone lived, the fort of Dun Morr which the Vincans destroyed, the fallen walls open to the sky. Tapit Point was in view in the distance. Apple’s nostrils flared, sniffing the sea wind. There were boats far out on the waves. Here, the land said, without words, but I understood, here there is room for these people, who are homeless, who worship our high gods.
I blinked, and reached down to pat Apple’s neck, and saw Emlin and Emer and the nameless Isarganan staring at me. I could hear the noises of camp around me. Somebody was cooking porridge with milk. I opened my mouth to speak, and shut it again. I did not know how long it had been. There were sudden tears in my eyes. “You did not succeed,” I said, at last, and my voice sounded very strange in my ears.
“No,” she said, looking at me. “I know.”
“Emer,” I said, “can you negotiate with your Isarnagans?”