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TheCrystalGryphon

AWitchWorldBook

AndreNorton

ToS.A.G.A.

(SwordsmenandSorcerersGuildof

America)Inrecognitionof

theirencouragementinourchosenfieldof

Ensorcelling.

Contents

Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Chapter13

Chapter14

Chapter15

Chapter16

Chapter17

Chapter18

Chapter19

Chapter20

1

Here Begins theAdventure ofKerovan,Sometime Lord-Heir in Ulmsdale

ofHighHallack.

I was one born accursed intwo ways. Firstly, my fatherwasUlric, Lord ofUlmsdaleinthenorth.Andofhisstockthereweretolddiretales.Mygrandfather, Ulm the Horn-Handed, he who led hispeopleintothisnorthsidedaleand chartered the sea-roverswho founded Ulmsport, had

lootedoneoftheplacesoftheOldOnes, taking the treasuresealedwithin.Allmen knewthat this was no ordinarytreasure, for it glowed in thedark. And after that lootingnot only Ulm, but all thosewho had been with him onthat fearsome venture, werevisited by a painful sicknessof body fromwhich most ofthemdied.

When I was born, my

father was already in middleyears. He had taken twoladies beforemymother andhadofthemchildren.Butthechildrenhadbeeneitherborndeadorhadquittedthisworldin their early years, sicklycreaturesoneandall.Hehadsworn,however, togethimatrue heir, and so he set asidehis second lady in favor ofmymotherwhenitseemedasifhewouldgetnosonofher.

Mymother's lineage alsolaid me under a curse. Shewas the Lady Tephana,daughter to Fortal ofPaltendale,which lies fartherto the northwest. There arethose who even now makeoff-wardingsignsatdalesmenfrom thoseparts, saying that,when our folkmoved thitherto settle, therewere still OldOnes,seeminglikeourselves;and that our people—the

Borderers—entered into ablood-mixing with these, theoffspringtherefrombeingnotaltogetherhuman.

Be that as it may, myfather was desperate for anheir. And Tephana, latelywidowed,hadbornealreadyagoodlychildwhowasnowinhis second year—Hlymer.My father was willing toforego dowry, to close hisears to any rumor of mixed

blood, and to welcome thelady with full honor. By allaccounts I have heard, shewaswilling,evenuntoriskingthe curse laid onmy father'sfamilybytheirtreasuretheft.

My birthing came tooearly and under strangecircumstances,formymotherwasonherway toGunnora'sshrine to give offerings for asonandasafedelivery.Whenshe was yet a day's journey

away, her pains came on hervery swiftly. There was nohall, not even a landsman'sdwelling near enough, and amighty storm was brewing.Thus her women and guardstook her for shelter into aplace they would havenormally shunned, one ofthose strange and awesomeremainsof theOldOnes, thepeople of uncanny powerwhoheldthedalesinthedim

past before the first of ourblood wandered up from thesouth.

Thisbuildingwasingoodrepair, as is often true of theconstructions left by thatunknown race. For the OldOnes seem to have usedspells tobind stones togetherin suchaway that even timecannotdevourthem,andthussomebuildingslookasiftheywere abandoned only

yesterday.What purpose thisone might have served nonecould guess. But there werecarvingsofmen andwomen,or those who had suchseeming,ontheinnerwalls.

My mother's travail washard, and her ladies fearedthat theymight not save her.After I was born they half-wishedthattheyhadfailedto,for asking to look upon thebabe, she saw me full and

gave a great cry, losing hersensesandnearherwits.Shewanderedinsomemindmazeforseveralweeksthereafter.

I was not as otherchildren. My feet were notwith toes, like unto humankind; rather they were smallhoofs, split, covered withhorn such as make up thenailsuponfingers.Inmyfacemy eyebrows slanted aboveeyes that were the color of

butter amber, the like ofwhich are not seen in ahumancountenance.Thus,allgazing upon me knew that,though I seemed far strongerof wind and limb than myunfortunate half-brothers andsisters before me, in me thecurse had taken anotherturning. I did not sicken anddie,butthrivedandgrew.

Butmymotherwouldnotlookuponme,sayingIwasa

demonchangeling, implantedin her womb by some evilspell. When those about herbroughtmenigh,shebecamesodisordered inherwits thattheyfearedherstatewouldbepermanent.Soonshedeclaredshe had no true child butHlymer—and later my sisterLisana,born ayear afterme,afairlittlemaidwithnoflaw.Inhermymother tookmuchpleasure.

As for me, I was nothousedatUlmsdaleKeep,butsentoutatnursetooneoftheforesters. However, thoughmy mother had so disownedme, my father was moved,notbyanyaffection—forthatI was never shown by thoseclosest to me in blood—butratherbyhisprideof family,toseethatmyupbringingwasequal to my birth. He gaveme the name of Kerovan,

which was that of a notedwarriorofourHouse,andhesawthatIwastutoredinarmsas became a youngling ofstationandshield, sending tomeoneJago,a keeplessmanofgoodbirthwhohadservedmyLord asMasterofMenieuntilhewasdisabledbyabadfallinthemountains.

Jagowas amaster of theartsofwar,notonlywiththelesser skills that can be

battered into any younglingwith a strong body and keeneyes, but also those moresubtle matters that deal withtheorderingofbodiesofmengreatandsmall.Crippledandtied to a way of living thatwas only a half-life for aonce-active man, he set hisbrain to laborashehadonceordered his body.Always hesearched for new lore ofbattle,andsometimesatnight

I would watch him with astripofsmoothedbarkbeforehim, patiently setting out inlabored and crooked scriptfactsconcerning thebreakingof sieges, the ordering ofassaults,andthelike,droningon to me the while,emphasizingthispointorthatby a fierce dig into the barkwith the knife he used for apen.

Jagowasfarmorewidely

traveled thanmost dalesmen,who perhaps in a wholelifetime know little beyondfourorfivedalesoutsidetheirown birthplace.He had beenoverseas in his first youth,traveling with the SulcarTraders,thosedangeroussea-rovers, to such half-fabledlandsasKarsten,Alizon,andEstcarp—though of the latternationhesaidlittle,appearinguneasy when I besought him

to tellofhis travels indetail.All hewould saywas that itwasalandwherewitchspellsand ensorcellment were ascommon as corn in a field,and that all the womenwerewitches and held themselvesbetterandapartfrommen,sothat itwasaplacewhereonekeptone'seyestooneselfandwalked very quietly andmum-tongued.

There was this which

makes me remember Jagowellandwithgratitude.InhiseyesIwasapparentlylikeanyother youngling, and not ayoung monster. So when Iwas with him I could forgetmy differences from myfellowsandrestcontent.

Thus Jago taught me theartsofwar—orrathersuchasa dale heir should know.Forin those days we did notknow the meaning of real

war, giving that name to ourpetty skirmishing betweenrival lords or against theWaste outlaws.And of thosewe saw many in the longwinters when starvation andill weather drove themagainst us to plunder ourgranaries and try to take ourwarm halls and garths. Warwore a far grimmer face inlater years, andmen got fullbelliesof it. Itwasno longer

a kind of game which wasplayedbyrules,asonemovespiecesbackandforthacrossaboardonawinter'seve.

ButifJagowasmyswordtutor, the Wiseman Riwalshowed me there were otherpaths of life in the world. Ithad always been held thatonlyawomancouldlearntheways of healing and performthe spells my people drawupon in their timeofneed in

body and spirit. Thus Riwalwas as strange to his fellowsasI.Hehadagreat thirst forknowledge,whichwasinhimas a longing for breadmightbeinastarvingman.Attimeshewouldgoroving,notonlyin the forest country, butbeyond,intotheWasteitself.When he returned he wouldbe burdened by a pack likeany peddler who carried hisownstockintrade.

Being kin to the HeadForester, he had takenwithout formal leave one ofthecotsnearby.Thishemadesnugandtightbytheworkofhis own hands, setting aboveits door a mask carved ofstone, not in the likeness ofour people. Men lookedaskance at Riwal, yes—butlet any animal ail, or even amankeephisbed insicknessthat could not be named—

thenhewassummoned.About his cot grew all

manner of herbs, some ofthose long-known to everyhousewife in the dales. Butotherswerebroughtfromafarwith masses of soil bundledup about their roots, and heset them out with care.Everything grew for Riwal,and the farmer who had awish for the best of cropswould go cap in hand at

sowing time and ask theWisemantooverlookhislandandgiveadvice.

Not only did he bringgreen life, but he also drewthat which wings over ourheads or pads on four feet.Birds and animals that werehurtorailingcame tohimoftheir own wills. Or else hewouldcarrythemtohisplacegently and tend them untiltheywere able oncemore to

fendforthemselves.This was enough to set

any man apart from hisfellows. But it was alsowellknownthatRiwalwenttotheplaces of the Old Ones, thathe tried to search out thosesecrets our blood had neverknown.Andforthat,mendidfear him. Yet it was thatwhichdrewmetohimfirst.

I was as keen-eared asany child who knows that

others talk about him behindtheir hands.And I had heardthe garbled stories of mybirth, of that cursewhich layupon the blood of Ulm,together with the hint thatneither was my mother'sHouse free of the taint ofstrangemixture.Theproofofbothwasperhapsinmyfleshand bone. I had only to lookin the mirror of Jago'spolished shield to see it for

myself.I went to Riwal, boldly

perhaps in outward seeming,butwithan inwardchill that,young as I was, I fought tomaster.Hewas on his kneessettingoutsomeplantswhichhad long, thin leaves sharplycut, like the heads of boarspears.HedidnotlookupasI came to him, but ratherspoke as if I had alreadyspent the morning in his

company.“Dragon's Tongue, the

Wisewomen call this.” Hehada softvoicewitha smalltremor, not quite a stammer.“It is said to seek out theputrid matter in unhealingwounds, even as a tonguemight lick such hurts clean.We shall see, we shall see.Butitisnottospeakofplantsthatyoustandhere,Kerovan,isit,now?”

“It is not. Men say youknowoftheOldOnes.”

He sat back on his heelstolookmeeyetoeye.

“But not much. We canlook and finger, search andstudy, but of their powers—those we cannot net or trap.One can only hope to brushupacrumbhereandthere,tospeculate, to go oneverseeking. They had vastknowledge—of building, of

creating, of living—beyondour ken. We do not evenknow why they were near-gone from High Hallackwhen the first of ourancestorsarrived.Wedidnotpush them out—no, alreadytheirkeepsandtemples, theirPlaces of Power wereemptied.Hereand there,yes,afewlingered.Andtheymaystill be found in the WasteandbeyondtheWastein that

landwehavenotentered.Butthe most—they were gone,perhaps long before men, aswe know them, arrived. Still—to seek what may still liehere—it is enough to fill alifetime and yet not find atenthofatenthofit!”

In his sunbrowned facehiseyeswerealightwiththatsame spark I had seen inJago's when he spoke of atrickofswordplayoraclever

ambush. Now Riwal studiedmeinturn.

“What seek you of theOldOnes?”heasked.

“Knowledge,” Ianswered. “Knowledge ofwhy I am as I am—notman—yet neither—” I hesitated,formypridewouldnotletmevoice what I had heard inwhispers.

Riwal nodded.“Knowledge is what every

man should seek, andknowledgeofhimselfmostofall. But such knowledge Icannotgiveyou.Come.”

He arose and startedtoward his dwelling with hisswinging woodsman's stride.Without further question Ifollowedafter.SoIcameintoRiwal'streasurehouse.

I could only stand justwithin the door and stare atwhat lay aboutme, fornever

before had I seen such acrowding of things, eachenough to catch the eye anddemand closer attention. Forin baskets and nests werewild animals, watching mewith bright and wary eyes,yet seeming, in this place, tofeel such safety that theydidnot hide in fear. There wereshelvesinplentyonthewalls.And each length of roughlyhewn,hardlysmoothedboard

was crammed with a burdenofclaypots,bundlesofherbsand roots, and bits andfragments that could onlyhavecomefromtheplacesoftheOldOnes.

Therewasabed,andtwostoolswere socrowdeduponthehearththattheysatnearlyin the fire. The rest of thedwellingwasmoresuitedforstoragethanforliving.Inthemiddle of the room Riwal

stood with his fists plantedupon his hips, his headturningfromsidetosideasifhetriedtosightsomespecialthing among the wealth ofobjects.

I sniffed the air. Therewas a mingling of manyodors. The aromatic scent ofherbswarredwith themuskysmell of animals and thesuggestionofcookingfromapot still hanging on the boil-

chain in the fireplace. Yet itwas not in any way anuncleanordisgustingsmell.

“You seek the Old Ones—look you here, then!”Riwal gestured to one shelfamongthemany.

Iskirtedtwobasketswithfurry inhabitants and camecloser to see what he wouldshowme. There I found set-out fragments, one or twobeingwhole,ofsmall figures

or masks—bits which insome instances Riwal hadfittedtogethertoformbrokenbutrecognizablefigures.

Whether these indeedrepresented various beingsamong the Old Ones, orwhether they had had lifeonly in the imagination oftheir creators, no one mightknow. But that they hadbeauty, even when theytended toward the grotesque,

Icouldseeformyself.There was a winged

figure of a woman, alaslackingahead;andamanofhumanoid proportions, savethat fromtheforeheadcurledtwo curved horns. Yet thefacebelowwasnoble,serene,as if hewere a great lord byrightofhisspirit.Therewasafigure with webbed feet andhands, plainly meant tosuggestawaterdweller;anda

smalloneofanotherwoman,oratleastafemale,withlonghair covering most of herbody like a cloak. TheseRivalhadmanagedtorestorein part. The rest werefragments: a head, crownedbut noseless, the eyes emptypits;adelicatehandthatborean intricate ring of metal onboth thumb and forefinger,those rings seemingly a partnow of the hand, whose

substancewasnotstonebutamaterialIdidnotknow.

I did not touch; I merelystoodand looked.And inmewas born a longing to knowmoreofthesepeople.Icouldunderstand the never-endinghunger that kept Riwalsearching, his patientattemptstorestorethebrokenbits he found that he mightsee,guess,butperhapsneverknow—

SoRiwalalsobecamemyteacher. I went with him tothose places shunned byothers,tosearch,tospeculate;alwayshopingthatsomefindmight be a key that wouldopen to us the doors of thepast, or at least give us asmallglimpseintoit.

My father made visits tome month by month, andwhenIwasinmytenthyear,he spoke to me with

authority.Itwasplainhewasin some uneasiness of spiritwhenhedidso.ButIwasnotamazed that he was so openwith me, for always he hadtreatedme,notasachild,butas one who had goodunderstanding. Now he wasvery sober, impressing methatthiswasofimport.

“You are the only livingson of my body,” he began,almost as if he found it

difficult to choose the wordshemustuse.“Byalltherightofcustomyoushallsit in theHigh Seat at Ulmskeep afterme.”Hepausedthen,solongI ventured to break into hismusing, which I knewcoveredatroubledmind.

“Thereare thosewhoseeitdifferently.”Ididnotmakethat a question, for I knew ittobeastatementoffact.

He frowned. “Who has

beensayingsotoyou?”“None. This I have

guessedformyself.”His frown grew. “You

haveguessedthetruth.ItookHlymer undermy protection,as was fitting when hismotherbecameLadyinUlm.Hehas no right to be shield-raisedtotheHighSeatatmydeath. That is for you. Butthey praiseme now to hand-fastLisanawithRogear,who

iscousin-kintoyou.”I was quick enough to

understandwhathewouldtellme and yet loath to hear it.ButIdidnothesitatetobringitintotheopenmyself.

“Thus Rogear mightclaim Ulmsdale by wife-right.”

My father's handwent tohis sword hilt and clenchedthere.Herose tohis feetandstrodebackand forth, setting

his feet heavily on the earthas if he needed some firmstanceagainstattack.

“It is against custom, butthey assault my ears with itdayuponday,untilIamwell-nigh deafened beneath myownroof!”

I knew, with bitterness,that his “they” must bemainly that mother whowouldnotcallmeson.ButofthatIdidnotspeak.

He continued. “ThereforeI make a marriage for you,Kerovan, an heir's marriageso thatallmencansee that Ido not intend any suchoffense against you, but giveyou all right of blood andclan. This tenth day NolonridestoIthkrypt,carryingtheproxy axe for your wedding.They tell me that the maidJoisanisalikelylass,lackingtwoyearsofyourage,which

is fitting. Safe-married, youcannot be set aside—thoughyour bride will not come toyouuntilperhapstheYearoftheFireTroll.”

I counted in my mind—eight years then. I was wellcontent.Formarriagehadnomeaning for me then, savethat my father deemed it ofsuchimportance.Iwondered,butsomehowIdidnotdareatthat moment to ask, whether

he would tell this Joisan, orher kinsmen who werearranging our match, whatmanner of lord she wouldmeetonher truebride-day—thatIwaswhatIwas.InsideIshrank,eveninthought,fromthatmeeting.But toaboyofmy years that fatal dayseemed very far away, andperhaps something mighthappentomakesureitwouldneveroccur.

I did not see Nolon setforth to play my role in axemarriage, for he rode out ofUlmskeepwhereIdidnotgo.Itwas only twomonths laterthat my father came to melooking less unhappy, to tellme that Nolon had returned,and that I was indeed safelywed to a maid I had neverseen,andprobablywouldnotsee for at least eight moreyears.

Ididnot,thereafter,thinkmuchof the fact that I had alady, being well-occupied,with my studies and evenmore with the quests onwhich I went with Riwal.Though I was under theguardianship of Jago, hemadenoprotestwhenIspenttime with Riwal. Betweenthose twocame tobeanoddcompanionship, in spite oftheir being so dissimilar in

thoughtanddeed.As the years passed, that

stiffness which had comefrommytutor'soldhurtgrewworse, and he found itdifficult to face me in opencontest with sword or axe.Butwiththecrossbowhewasstillaskilledmarksman.Andhis reading of maps, hisdiscussion of this or thatbattle plan, continued.Though I saw little use then

for such matters in my ownlife, I paid him dutifulattention, and that was to bemysalvationlater.

ButRiwal did not appearto age at all, and his longstride still carried him fardistances without tiring. Ilearned early to match hisenergy. And, while myknowledge of plants wasnever as great as his, yet Ifound a kinship with birds

andanimals.Iceasedtohuntforsport.AndItookpleasurein the fact that hiswild onesdidnotfearme.

Bestofall,however,wereourvisits to theplacesof theOld Ones. Riwal prospectedfurther and further over thebordersoftheWaste,seekingever to find something intactfrom the ancient days. Hisgreatest hope, as he confidedinme,was to discover some

bookrollorrunerecord.WhenIsuggestedthatthe

readingofsuchcouldwellbebeyond his skill, for surelythe Old Ones had not ourtongue, he nodded inagreement. Still I felt heopposed that thought, surethat if he did find such, thePoweritselfwouldaidhimtounderstandit.

It was in theYear of theSpittingToadthatIhadbeen

wed. As I came closer tomanhood, the thought of thatdistant lady began now andthen to trouble me oddly.Thereweretwoladsnearmyyears in the foresters’ hold,butfromthefirsttheyhadnotbeen playmates, or latercompanions. Not only didrankseparateus,buttheyhadmade me aware, from thebeginning of myconsciousness of the world

aboutme,thatmynon-humanappearance cut me off fromeasy friendships. I had givenmy friendship to only twomen—Jago,oldenoughtobemy father, and Riwal, whocould have been an olderbrother(andhowIsometimeswishedthatwasthetruth!).

But those forester ladswent now to the autumn fairwith lass-ribbons tied to theupper latchesof their jerkins,

whispering and laughingabout the adventures thoseled them to. This brought tomethefirststrongforebodingthatwhen it did at last cometimetoclaimtheLadyJoisanin person, shemight findmeas ill a sight as had mymother. What would happenwhen my wife came toUlmsdale and I must go tobide with her? If she turnedfrommeinopenloathing—

Nightmares began tohauntmysleep,andRiwalatlast spoke to me with thebluntness he could use uponoccasion.Whenhedemandedwhat ill thought rode me, Itold him the truth, hopingagainst hope that he wouldspeedilyassuremethatIsawmonsters where there wereonly shadows, and that I hadnothing to fear—though mygood sense and experience

arguedonthesideofdisaster.But he did not give me

that reassurance. Instead hewas silent for a space,looking down at his hands,whichhadbeenbusiedfittingtogether some of his imagefragments, but now restedquietonthetable.

“There has ever beentruth between us, Kerovan,”he said at last. “To me whoknows you well—above all

otherswouldIchoosetowalkin your company. But howcan I promise you that thiswill turn to happiness? I canonly wish you peace and—”he hesitated. “Once Iwalkeda path that I thought mightendinhand-fastingandIwashappy for a little. But whileyou bear your differences toothers openly, I bear minewithin. Still, there they be.And the one with whom I

would have shared Cup andFlame—she saw thosedifferences, and they madeheruneasy.”

“Butyouwerenotalreadywed,” I ventured, when hefellsilent.

“No,Iwasnot.AndIhadsomethingelse.”

“Thatbeing?”Iwasquicktoask.

“This!”Hespreadouthishands in a gesture to

encompassall thatwasabouthimunderthatroof.

“Then I shall have thisalso,”Isaid.MarryIhad,forthe sake of custom and myfather'speaceofmind.WhatIhad seen and heard ofmarriages among the dalelords did not set happinesshigh.Heirsandlordsmarriedtoincreasetheirholdingsbyamaid's dowry, to get a newheirfortheline.Ifinclination

and liking came afterward,that was happiness, but itcertainly did not alwaysfollowso.

“Perhapsyoucan.”Riwalnodded. “There is somethingI have long thought on.Perhapsthis is thetimetodoit.”

“Follow the road!” I wasonmy feet, as eager as if hemeant to set out upon thatbeckoning mystery this very

moment. For a mystery itwas,andbeckonitdid.

Wehadcomeacrossitonour last venture into theWaste, a road of suchbuilding as put any dale'seffort to shame, making ourroads seem like rough tracksfitonlyforbeasts.Theendofthe road we had chancedupon was just that, a sharpchopping-offofthatcarefullylaid pavement, with nothing

about the end to explain thewhy-for. The mystery begannearly on our doorstep, forthatendpointwaslessthanahalf day's journey fromRiwal's cot. The road ran onback into the Waste, wide,straight, only a little cloakedhereand thereby thedriftofwindborne soil. To find itsother end was a project wehadindeedlongheldinmind.The suggestion that we set

out on this journey quitepushed from my mind thethought of Joisan. She wasjustanameanyway,andanymeeting between uswas stillyears ahead, while thefollowing of the road washereandnow!

Iwasanswerable tononebutJagoformyactions.Andthis was the time of yearwhenhemadehisannualtripto Ulmskeep, where he kept

festivalwitholdcomrades-in-arms and reported to myfather. Thus I was free tofollowmyownwishes,whichinthiscasemeanttheroad.

2

Here Begins theAdventure ofJoisan, Maid ofIthkrypt inIthdale of High

Hallack.

I,JoisanofIthkrypt,waswedatharvesttimeintheYearofthe Spitting Toad. By rightsthatwasnotconsideredayearfor new beginnings; but myuncle, Lord Cyart, had thestars read three times byDame Lorlias of NorsteadAbbey (she who was solearned in such matters that

men and women traveledwearyleaguestoconsulther),and her report was that mywedding was written as athing needful to my ownfortune.NotthatIwasawareofmuchmorethanthestirthequestion caused, for I wasthereupon the center of longand tiring ceremonies thatbroughtmeclose to tears forthe very tiredness they laiduponme.

When one has no morethaneightyears, it ishard tojudgewhatoccupiesmostthethoughtsandplansofthoseinthe adult world. I canremember my wedding nowmostly as a bright picture inwhichIhadapartIcouldnotunderstand.

I remember wearing atabard stiff with gold-threadstitchery that caught up apattern of fresh-water pearls

(for which the streams ofIthdale are rightly famous).But I was more occupied atthe time with keeping toDame Math's stem warningthat I must not spot orwrinklemyfinery;thatImustbe prudent at the feast tablelest I spill and so mar thehandiworkoflongandpatienthours. The robe beneathwasblue,whichdidnotpleasemeover-muchasitisacolorIdo

not fancy, liking better thedark,richshadessuchashuetheautumnleaves.Butblueisfor amaidenbride, so itwasminetowear.

My new lord was notpresent todrink theLifeCupand light the House Candlewithmehand tohand. Inhisplace stood a man (seemingancient to me, for his close-cropped beard was frost-rimmedwith silver), as stern

asmy uncle in his look. Hishand,Iremember,boreascaracross the knuckles that hadleft a raised banding of fleshofwhichIwasacutelyawareas he clasped my fingers inthe ceremony. And in theotherhandheheldamassivewaraxethatsignifiedmytruelordwhowas about to twinemy destinywith his—thoughthat lord was at least a half-dozen years or more away

from being able to raise thataxe.

“Lord Kerovan and LadyJoisan!” The guests shoutedour names together, the menunsheathing their knives ofceremony so that thetorchlight flashed upon theblades, vowing to uphold thetruth of this marriage in thefuture, by virtue of thosesame blades, if need be. Myheadhad begun to achewith

thenoise,andmyexcitementat being allowed to attend arealfeastwasfastebbing.

The elderly Lord Nolon,who stood proxy at thewedding, shared a platewithme politely throughout thefeast. But, though he askedme with ceremony beforemaking a choice from alloffered platters, I was in toomuchaweofhimtosay“no”to what I liked not, and his

choices were mainly of thatnature. So I nibbled at whatmy taste rebelledagainst andlonged for it to come to anend.

It did, much later, whenthe women with greatmerriment laid me, wearingonly my fine night shift, inthegreat, curtainedbed.Andthemen,headedbymyuncle,brought in that awesome axeandbeddeditbesidemeasif

itwere indeedmy lord. Thatwas my wedding, thoughafterward itdidnot seem toostrange, just one of thosethings difficult for a child tounderstand, something to bedismissedtothebackofone'smind.

Only that axe,whichwasmypartnerinplaceofaflesh-and-bloodbridegroom,wasastarkprophecyofwhatwastocome—notonly tomebut to

all the country that was myhome: High Hallack of themanydales.

After the departure ofLord Nolon, life soonreturnedtowhatIhadalwaysknown, for by custom Iwould continue to dwellundermybirthroofuntilIwasof a suitable age formy lordtoclaimme.

There were some smallchanges.OnhighfeastdaysI

sat at the left hand of myuncle and was addressedceremoniously by my newtitleofLadyofUlmsdale.Myfeast-day tabard also nolonger bore only one Housesymbol, but two, beingdivided in the centervertically with a ribbon ofgold. To the left, the leapingGryphon of Ulmsdale wasworkedinbeadsthatglitteredlike gems. On the right was

thefamiliarBrokenSwordofHarb, that mighty warriorwho had founded our line inHigh Hallack and given allhis kin fame thereafter whenhe had defeated the dreadDemon of Irr Waste with abrokenblade.

On my name-day, or asnear to that as travelconditions permitted, wouldcome some gift sent by myLord Kerovan, together with

proper greetings. ButKerovan himself was neverrealtome.

Also, since my uncle'slady was dead, he looked tohis sisterDameMath for thechatelaine'sdutiesinIthkrypt.Shetookovertheorderingofmy days, to secret sighs andstifled rebellion on my part.Thisandthisandthismustbelearned, that I be a credit tomyupbringingwhenIindeed

went to order my lord'shousehold. And those tasks,which grew with my years,induced in me sometimes adesire never to hear ofUlmsdale or its heir; alonginginallmybeingtobeunwed and free. But fromDameMath andher senseofdutyIhadnoescape.

Icouldnot remembermyuncle's lady at all. For somereason, though he lacked an

heir, he made no movethrough the years to wedagain. Perhaps, I sometimesthought, even he dared notthinkof lesseninginanypartDameMath's authority. Thatshe was an able chatelaine,bringingpeaceandcomforttoall she had dominion over,couldnotbedenied.Shekeptthose about her in quiet,sobrietyandgoodorder.

In her long-ago youth (it

was almost impossible tothink of DameMath as everbeing a maid!) she had beenaxe-wed in the same fashionasItoalordofthesouth.Butbeforehecouldclaimher,thenews came that he had diedof a wasting fever. Whethershe thereafter regretted herloss,nooneeverknew.Afterthe interval of mourning sheretiredtotheHouseofDamesatNorstead,anestablishment

much-reveredforthelearningandpietyofitsladies.Butthedeath of her brother's ladyhadoccurredbefore she tookvows of perpetual residence,and she had returned to themistress'sroleatIthkrypt.Shewore ever the sober robe ofDame, and twice a yearjourneyed to Norsdale for aperiod of retreat. As I grewolder,shetookmewithher.

My uncle's heir was still

undecided,sincehehadmadeno binding declaration. Hehad a younger sister also—one Islaugha, who hadmarriedandhadbothsonanddaughter. But since that sonwas heir to his father'sholding,hewasprovidedfor.

Iwas the daughter of hisyounger half-brother, but notbeing male, I could notinherit save by direct decree—thewhichmyunclehadnot

uttered.My dowry was suchto attract a husband, andmyuncle, should he wish, hadalsotheright—no,evenduty,to name that husband heir,but onlywhen he declared itsowoulditbebinding.

IthinkDameMathwouldhave liked to see me in theHouse of Dames, had themarriage with Kerovan notbeenmade.AnditisthetruththatIdidfindmyvisitsthere

pleasant. I was born with aninquiringmindand somehowattracted the notice of Past-Abbess Malwinna. She wasveryold,butvery,verywise.Having talked with meseveral times, she directedthat I be given the right tostudy in the library of theHouse.Thestoriesofthepastwhich had always enchantedme were as nothing to therollsofchroniclesandtravels,

dale histories, and the like,that were on the shelves andin the storage boxes in thatroom.

But what held me mostwerethereferencestotheOldOnes, those who had ruledthis land before the first ofthe dalesmen came north. Iknewwell thatsuchaccountsas I found were not onlyfragmentary,butperhapsalsodistorted, for the larger

numbersoftheOldOneshadalreadywithdrawnbeforeourforefathersarrived.Thoseourancestors had contact withwerelesserbeings,orperhapsonly shadows, left as onewould discard a threadbarecloak.

Some were evil as wejudgedevil,inthattheywereenemies to humankind—likethe demon Harb had slain.There were still places that

were filled with darkenchantment, so that anyventuring unwisely into suchcould be enwebbed. Othersuch beings could grantprayers and gifts. Such wasGunnora—the HarvestMother—towhomallwomenwere loyal, and whosemysteries were as great intheir way as the Worship oftheCleansingFlametowhichthe House of Dames was

dedicated. I myself wore anamulet of Gunnora—hersheath of wheat entwinedwithripenedfruit.

Yetothersseemedneithergood nor ill, being removedfrom the standards ofhumankind. At times theymanifested themselvescapriciously, delivering goodto one, evil to another, as ifthey weighed men on somescales of their own and

thereafter dealt with them astheysawfit.

Itwaschancytodealwithany of the Old Ones saveGunnora. The accounts IfoundatNorsteadwerefullofinstances where humans hadawakened from long slumberpowers that never shouldhavebeendisturbed.AttimesI would seek out AbbessMalwinnainhersmallgardenand ask questions, to which

she gave answers if shecould. If she could not, sheadmitted her ignorancefrankly. It was on my lastsuch meeting with her that Ifoundhersittingwithabowluponherknee.

The bowl was of greenstone, wrought so finely thatthe shadow of her fingersabout it showed through thesubstance. It had noornamentation but its beauty

of line, and it was verybeautiful indeed.Within wasenough wine to cover thebottomandcomeabitupthesides.

I knew it was wine, forthe heady smell reached me.The warmth of her fingersabout it was releasing thescentofthegrape.Sheturnedit slowly around and around,sotheliquidwashedbackandforth,butshedidnotwatchit.

Instead she looked at me sosearchingly that I feltdiscomfort, as if I had beenfound wanting in somenecessary quality. I searchedmy conscience hurriedly forany fault I might recentlyhaveshown.

“It is long,” she said,“since I have tried this,Joisan. But this morning Iawoke with the need fordoing so, and foryou. Inmy

youth I had the gift offarseeing—for gift it is,though some shrink from it.Theyareafraidof thatwhichthey cannot touch, see, taste,hear, or otherwise clearlyperceive. It is a gift thatcannot be controlled. Fewwhohaveitcansummonitatwill; theymustwaituntil thetime it draws them to action.But if you are willing, thisday I canuse it foryou—for

howmuchorhowwell,thatIcannottell.”

I was excited, for offarseeing I had heard.TheWisewomen could use it—or some of them could.But, as the Past-Abbess said,itwas not a talent that couldbesharpenedforuseandthenputreadytohandlikeaman'sswordorawoman'sneedle—itmust be seized uponwhenitcame,andtherewasnouse

in trying to control it.However, with myexcitement there was also atiny chill of fear. It was onething to read, to listen to,storiesofthePower.Itwas,Iunderstood now, another tosee it inaction,and forone'sownself.Yetat thatmomentI do not think even panicwould have kept me fromsaying“yes”toheroffer.

“Kneelbeforeme,Joisan.

Take this bowl within yourtwo hands and hold it levelandsteady.”

Ididasshebade,cuppingmypalms,oneon either sideofthebowl,holdingitasonemight hold a firebranch thatmight be ignited at anymoment. Then she leanedforward and touched thefingers of her right hand tomyforehead.

“Look upon the wine;

think of it as a picture—apicture—”Oddly enough hervoice sounded farther andfarther away. As I lookeddownintothebowl,Iwasnolonger seeing only darkliquid. It was rather as if Ihung suspended in the airabove a wide, borderlessexpanse of darkness, a giantmirror with none of thebrilliance a true mirrorpossesses.

There came a misting, achange on that surface.Tendrils of the mist becameshadowforms. Isawaroundball that glinted and,entombed in that, a formfamiliar to me—that of agryphongleamingwhite.

At first the ballwas verylarge, near filling the wholeof themirror. Then it shrankswiftly, and I saw it wasfastenedtoachain.Thechain

swung from a hand, so thatthe ball revolved. Thegryphon in it sometimesfaced me, sometimes facedaway. But there grew in methe knowledge that this ballwasofgreatimportance.

Itwasverysmallnow,forthe hand that dangled it wasalso shrinking. The arm towhich it was attached, andthen the body belonging tothe arm, appeared. Now a

manstoodthere.Hisfacewasturned from me, hidden. Hewore war mail, the hooddrawn up about his throat.There was a battle swordgirded to him, and over hisshoulder I saw the arch of acrossbow. But he wore noHouse tabard, nothing toidentify him, only thatswinging ball. Then he left,tramping away as if he hadbeen summoned elsewhere.

The mirror was dark andempty; nor did any moreshadowsgatherthere.

Malwinna'shandfellfrommy forehead.As I raisedmyeyestoblinkandblinkagain,I saw awoeful pallor on herface. So I quickly set asidethe bowl and dared to takeher hands within mine,strivingtohelpher.

She smiled weakly. “Itdrawsthestrength—themore

when one has little strengthleft.But itwas laidonme todo this thing. Tell me, mydaughter, what did youlearn?”

“You did not see it,then?”Iwassurprised.

“No. It was not afarseeingforme,thatIknew.Itwasyoursonly.”

ItoldherwhatIhadseen:the gryphon englobed and amaninbattledressholdingit.

AndIended,“Thegryphonisthe badge of the House ofUlm.DidI thenseetheLordKerovantowhomIamwed?”

“That may be so,” sheagreed.“Butitisinmymindthatthegryphonisthatwhichis of the greatest importanceto your future. If such evercomes to your hand, mydaughter, do you guard itwell. For it is also to bebelievedthatthisisathingof

theOldOnes and a focus ofsomepower theyonceknew.Now,callDameAlousan,forI have need of one of herstrengthening cordials. Butspeak not of what we havedone here this morning, forfarseeing is a private thingand not to be talked oflightly.”

IsaidnaughttoanyoftheDames,nortoMath.AndthePast-Abbess allowed them to

believethatshewasmerelyalittle wearied, so they fussedabouther,forshewasgreatlyloved. No one paid anyattention to me. I had takenthe bowl with me into theguesting room and put it onthetablethere.

Though I continued tolook into it now and again Isawnothingbut thewine;nodark mirror, no shadowsmoving.Yetinmymindwas

so vivid a picture of thecrystal gryphon that I couldhavepaintedit,hadIanyskillin limning, in every smalldetail.AndIspeculatedas towhat it might mean. Thegryphon so enclosed haddifferences from the one thatappeared as Ulm's badge. Agryphon by rights had thewings and forepart of aneagle: its front legs end in abird of prey's strong talons.

Buttherear,thetail,thehindpawsare thoseofa lion,oneof the beasts known to thesouthalone.Onitsbird'sheadalion'searsstandupright.

Intheancientlearningthegryphonsymbolizesgold:thewarmth and majesty of thesun.Ofttimes in legends it isthe guardian of hiddentreasure.

Thus the gryphon ismainly pictured in red and

gold, which are sun colors.Yet the one enclosed in theglobewasthewhiteofice—awhitegryphon.

Shortly after thatfarseeing, Dame Math and Ireturned home to Ithkrypt.But we did not remain therelong. For in this Year of theCrownedSwanIhadreachedthe age of fourteen, andDame Math was alreadypreparing my bride clothes

and the furnishings I wouldtake with me when Kerovanwouldsendforme,aswasthecustom, in the next year ortwo.

So we went on toTrevamper, that town set atthe meeting of highway andriver where all merchants inthe north show their waresupon occasion. Even theSulcarmen,whoaresearoversand seldom come far from

wind and wave, travel toTrevamper. For there is theinterior trade.Andbychancewe met there also my AuntIslaugha,hersonToross,andherdaughterYngilda.

ShecametopayacallonDameMath, but I felt itwasone of duty only and therewas little liking betweenthese sisters. However theLady Islaugha presented asmiling face and spoke us

fair,congratulatingmeonthefinemarriage that had unitedmetotheHouseofUlm.

Yngilda pushed closer tome when our elders hadturned their attention back totheir own concerns, and Ithoughtshestaredrudely.Shewas a stout girl, bundled inrichclothingdownwhichherbraids rippled, their endsbound in ribbons hung withlittle silver bells meant to

chimesweetlyas shemoved.Such a conceit did not suither broad, flatfish face, withits too-small mouth alwayspursed a little as if shechewed upon a spicy secretshedebatedoversharing.

“You have seen thelikeness of your lord?” sheaskedalmostabruptly.

I stirred uneasily underthe probing of her eyes. Iknew her then for unfriend,

thoughwhysheshouldbesowhen we hardly knew eachother,Icouldnotguess.

“No.” As always whensuch uneasiness with otherswas in me, I was wary. Butthe truth is better than anyevasion which may later triponeup.AndforthefirsttimeIwondered.alittleatamatterI had never consideredbefore.WhyhadKerovannotcausedtobesentalikenessof

himself?That suchwasdoneinaxemarriagesIknew.

“A pity.” Her gazeseemedtohavesomemannerof triumph in it now. “Lookyou here—this is mypromised lord, Elvan ofRishdale.”Shebroughtoutofher belt pocket an oblong ofwoodwith a face painted onit. “He sent it with his bridegifttwoyearsago.”

Thepaintedfacewasthat

ofamanofmiddleyears,noboy.Anditwasnotapleasantcountenance to my thinking,but perhaps the limner hadeithernotbeenskillfulorhadsomereasonnottoflatterthisElvan. That Yngilda wasproudofitwasplain.

“Hewouldseemamanofauthority.” I did the best Icould in way of praise. Mydislikingforthepicturedfacegrew stronger the longer I

regardedit.She took that, as I had

hoped,asacomplimenttoherpromisedlord.

“Rishdale is an upperdale. They are wool people,andthetradeisrich.Alreadymy lordhas sentme thisandthis—” She patted an ambernecklacewhichlayabovehertabardandthrustherhandouttome that Imight lookupona massive thumb ring of a

serpent with eyes that wereflecksofredgem-fire.

“TheserpentishisHousebadge. This is his own ring,sent for awelcomegift. I gotohimnextharvesttime.”

“I wish you happy,” Ianswered.

Herpaletonguesweptoutoverherlowerlip.Againshewas in twominds over somespeech to make. At last shebroughtherself to it,bending

herheadevencloser,while Ihad all I could do not towithdrawatherapproach,forher close company did notpleaseme.

“I would I could say thesametoyou,kinswoman.”

I knew I should notencourage her now, yetsomething made me ask,“Andwhynot,kinswoman?”

“We are not so far fromUlmsdale as you. We have

heard—much.” And shestrove to give such a direaccent to that last word thatshe did indeed make animpressiononme.Forallmyprudenceanddistrust,Icouldnot now deny her thisconfidence.

“Much of what,kinswoman?”My tone madea challenge of that, one shewas quick to note and thatpleasedher,Iamsure.

“Of the curse,kinswoman.Did theynot tellyouthattheHeirofUlmsdalelies under a double cursing?Why, his own mother hasrefused to lookuponhis facesince his birth hour. Havethey not told you that?” sherepeated with open relish.“Alack, that I should spoilyour dreaming about a braveyoung lord. He is a monsterthing, they say, sent to live

apart because all men shrinkfrom—”

“Yngilda!”Thatsayingofher name was as sharp as awhip crack, and under it sheflinched as if indeed somelashhadbittenintoherbody.Dame Math stood over us,and it was plain in her faceshehadheardthosewords.

So open was her wraththat at that moment I knewYngilda had indeed spoken

the truth, or at least come soclose to it as to shake myguardian.Onlythetruthcouldhave aroused her ire sogreatly.

She said no more, onlyeyed Yngilda menacinglyuntil thegirl edgedback,herfull cheeks blanching a littleinherfright.Shegaveakindof squeak and scrambledaway. But I sat where I wasand met Dame Math eye to

eye.Withinmethecoldgrew,settingmetoshivering.

Cursed—amonsterwhomeven his mother could notbear to look upon! By theHeart of Gunnora, what hadthey done tome, to givemein marriage to that? I couldhave screamed my terroraloud, but I did not. For inthatmuchIkeptmycontrol.Ionly said slowly, forcingmyvoice to be level, determined

toknowthefullofithereandnow, “By the oath of theFlame you serve, Lady, tellme now the truth. Are herwordsthattruth?AmIwedtoone who is not like othermen?” For I could not bringmyselftosay“monster.”

I think up until thatmoment Dame Math mighthavecoveredwithfairwords.But now she sat beside me,herfacegrave,astheflushof

angerfaded.“You are no longer a

child,Joisan.Yes,Iwillgiveyou what truth I know. It istrue that Kerovan dwellsapart from his kin, but he isnot a monster. There is acurse laid on those of theHouse of Ulm, and hismother comes from theupdates, from a familyrumored to have inter-wedwithOld Ones. Thus he has

such blood within him. Buthe is not monstrous—of thisLordCyartmade sure beforehe would consent to themarriage.

“Yethedwellsapartfromhis kin. Is it true that hismother will not look uponhim?” The cold within mewas suchnow I couldhardlycontrolmyself.

Still she was frank withme. “That is true because of

the manner of his birthing,and she is a fool!” Then shetold me an unusual tale ofhow the Lord of Ulm hadtakenwivesandhadnolivingheir because of the curse.Howhewedathirdtimewitha widow, and how she hadbeentakenontheroadbeforeher timewithbirthpainsandhadborne her sonwithin thewallsofoneoftheOldOnes’buildings. And of how

thereafter she had turned herface from him because shewas so filled with fear thatthe babe was of the OldOnes’ sending. But he wassound and no monster. Hisfather swore to that by theGreat Oath for which therecanbenobreaking.

Because she told it all soplainly, I believed her andwaslessshaken.

Then Dame Math added,

“Joisan,begladthatyoutakeayounglord.Yngilda,forallher prating, goes to onealreadywedonce, amanoldenough to be her father, andone who will have littlepatience with any youthfulfollies. Shewill find him farless indulgent to her whimsand laziness thanhermother,and she will perhaps rue thedaysheleftherownkeepforhis.

“Kerovan by all accountsisoneyouwillwellcompanywith—for he is learned inrune scrolls as well as insword-play, which sooccupies the minds andbodiesofmostmen.Hehasaliking for searching out oldthings,suchasyouhavealso.Yes,youhavemuch to thinkright in your wedding, andlittle to see of shadows.Youareamaidofgoodmindand

not easily shaken.Do not letthe envious words of thisfoolish wench overset yourreason.Iswear,ifyouwishit,by the Flame—and you wellknowthemeaningofsuchanoathforme—thatIwouldnotstand by without protest andseeyouwedtoanymonster!”

Knowing Dame Math,that reassurance was indeedall I needed. Yet during thedaysthatfollowedIdidthink

againandagainofthestrangeupbringing Kerovan musthave had. That amother hadturnedherfacefromherchildwas hard to believe. Still,givingbirth in a placeof theOld Ones might havepoisonedhermindagainstthecauseofherpainand fear asshe lay therein. And I knewwell from my reading at theAbbeythatmanysuchplaceshad malignant atmospheres

that worked subtly uponmankind.Shecouldwellhavefallenpreytosuchinfluencesduringherhoursoflabor.

Fortherestofourstayintown my aunt and herdaughter did not come nearus. Perhaps Dame Math hadmadeplainherviewsonwhatYngilda had told me. I waswell content not to see herfull face, her pursed mouth,andherprobingeyesagain.

3

Kerovan

Tomost dalesmen theWasteisafearsomeplace.Outlawedmen were driven to refuge

there, perhaps coming toregard it in time as they hadtheir native dales. And thereare hunters, wild as anyoutlaws in theirown fashion,ranging it to bring backpackloads of strange furs aswell as lumps of pure metalcongealed into odd shapes:not native ores, butsubstances that had beenworked and then reduced tobrokenpieces.

Suchlumpsofmetalweregreatly prized, though smithshadtoreworkthemwithcare.Swords and mail made fromthis metal were stronger,more resistant toweathering.Ontheotherhand,sometimesit had fearsome properties,exploding in vastconfigurationstoconsumeallnearby—as if some powerhad struck it. A metal-smithbothyearned touse it for the

promiseoffinecraftsmanshipandfeared thateachpiecehebroughttotheforgemightbeoneofthecursedbits.

Those who found suchmetal and traded in it werenotoriously close-mouthedabout the source. Riwalbelieved that theymined,notthe earth, but places of theOld Ones wherein someancient and unbelievablyhorrible conflict had fused

metal into these lumps. Hehad attempted to win theconfidence of one Hagon, atrader,whohad twicepassedthrough our forest territory.ButHagonrefusedtotalk.

So it was not only thebroken-off road thatbeckoned us. There wereothersecretstobeuncovered.AndIfoundthisventurewelltomyliking.

We reached the broken-

off end of the road by mid-morningandstoodstudyingitbefore we set foot on itsearth-drifted surface. It wasindeed a puzzle, for thatbreak was as clean-cut as ifsome giant swordsman hadbrought down his blade tosever the masonry. Yet, ifsome such action hadoccurred,wherewastherest?For beyond the break therewas not even a trace of old

rubble to suggest it had everrun beyond this point. Andwhywouldanyroadcometosuchapurposelessending?Itmaybetruethatthepurposesof theOldOneswerenot thesameasthoseofmen,andwecannot judge their actions byours.

“Howlongagosincemenwalkedhere,Riwal?”Iasked.

He shrugged. “Whoknows? If it were men who

did so. But if the road endsthus,thebeginningmaybeofmoreinterest.”

Wewereridingthesmall,desert-bred horses used byWaste rovers, tough beastswithaninheritedabilitytogofar on a minimum of drinkand forage. And we led athird horse with our suppliesinapack.Wewentclothedasmetal traders, so that anyspyinguponuscouldbelieve

we were of the Wasteourselves. We traveled alerttosignandsound,foronlyhewho is ever-watchful canhope to best the traps anddangersofsuchaland.

The Waste is not puredesert, though much is aridlandwithascantcoveringofsmall, wind-beaten shrubsandsun-driedgrassinraggedclumps.Attimes,darkcopsesof trees grow so thick they

huddle trunk to trunk. Andoutcrops of stone stand likepillars.

Some of these had beenworked, if not by man, thenby creatures who used stonefor monuments. But thepillarshadbeensoscouredbyyears of winds that onlytraces of the workingremained. Here a wall couldbeseenforabit; thereapairof columns suggested a past

buildingofsomepride.We passed such a place

soon after we took to theroad, but there was notenoughleft toexplore.Intheopen there was silence, forthiswas awindless day.Theclop-clopofourmounts’feeton the pavement seemed toecho, making far too loud asound,sothatIfoundmyselflookingfromsidetoside,andnow and then over my

shoulder. The feeling grewstronger that we were beingwatched—byoutlaws?

InspiteofmyselfIfoundmyhand straying ever in thedirection of the sword hilt,ready to defend againstattack.YetwhenIglancedatRiwal,Isawhimridingeasy,though he alsowatched rightandleft.

“I feel”—I urged mymountclosertohis—“thatwe

are watched.” Perhaps Ihumbled my pride to admitthat, yet this was more hisland than mine, and I reliedonhim.

“It is ever so—in theWaste,”hereturned.

“Outlaws?” My fingersclosedaboutthehiltnow.

“Perhaps.Butmorelikelyother things.” His eyes didnot quite meet mine, and Isensed he was at a loss to

explain. Perhaps he, too,feared to display someweakness before me, ayounger and less-triedventurer.

“Is it the truth then thattheOldOnesleftguardians?”

“What man among usknows?” He countered myquestion with another. “Thismuch is so: when oneventuresintotheirways,thereis often this feeling of being

watched. Yet it has neverbeenwithmemore than justwatching. If they leftguardians, as you say, thoseare now too old and tired todomorethanwatch.”

I found that hardlyreassuring. And still Icontinued to watch—thoughnothingstirredoutinthatflatland across which the roadhammeredastraightandlevelpath.

At nooning we drew tothe side of the pavement, ateand drank, and gave ourhorses todrinkalso from thewaterskinswecarried.Therewasnosun,andtheskyoveruswasgray; still I could seeno clouds gathering tothreaten storm. But Riwalsniffedtheair,hisheaduptothesky.

“We must seek shelter,”he said, and there was

urgencyinhisvoice.“Iseenostormclouds.”“Stormscomeunheralded

and swiftly in the Waste.There—” He had beensurveying the countrysidearound, and now he pointedahead to where there was apile beside the road, perhapsanotherclusteroftime-erodedruin.

We pushed on, todiscover that sight-distance

was deceptive in this place.Therewasahazethatseemedto rise from the ground sothat things appeared closerthan theywere.Butat lengthwe reached the spot he hadappointed. And none toosoon, for the sky was nolonger the gray of a gloomyday, but had darkened nowinto twilight come hours toosoon.

Chancehadbroughtusto

shelter. Though the ruins atthe outset of the road hadbeen so formless as to onlysuggest they had once hadpurpose,thisancientbuildingwas in better preservation.There was actually part of aroom or hall among thejumbleofstoneblockswithaportion of roof over it. Andinto that we crowded bothourselvesandouranimals.

Now the wind blew,

whirlingupthegrit,hurlingitin marching columns to filleyes, mouths, nostrils. Wehad to fight to gain the lastfew strides to cover. Onceinside, when we turned tolook out, it was to see acurtainofdust.

That did not last long.Overheadsoundedtherumbleofthunderasifanarmywitha siege train marched. Andthelashoflightningfollowed

with force enough to suggestithadstrucknottoofaraway.Then came rain—quicklybeatingdownthedust,yetnotclearing any path for ourvision; rather providing asecond curtain, this time ofmoisture,notgrit.

Water ran in a streamacross thepitted floor, sowecrowded back into thefarthest comer of the ruin.The horses whinnied and

snuffled,rollingtheireyes,asif they found this fury ofnature frightening.But tomeourcornergaveanillusionofshelter, though I flinchedwhen the lightning struckagain.

Such fury deafened us.Wewerereducedtothepointof simple endurance and wekeptholdofthereins,lestourmounts break out into thestorm.Astheybegantoquiet,

no longer tossing their headsorstamping,Irelaxedalittle.

Thedarkwasclosetothatof true night, andwe had notorch. So crowded were wethat Riwal's shoulder rubbedmine whenever he movedevenslightly,yettherainwasso tumultuous we could nothaveheardeachotherwithoutshouting, which we did notdo.

What had been the

original purpose of the ruin?Built so beside the road,couldithavebeenaninn?Orwas it a guard post for somepatrol?Orevenatemple?AsRiwalhadsaid,whoknewthepurposesoftheOldOnes.

WithonehandIexploredthe wall. The surface of thestone was smooth, not pittedas themoreexposedportionswere.Myfingerscoulddetectnoseamor joining,yet those

blocks had been set togethersomehow.Suddenly—

Mensleepanddream.ButIwillswearanyoathIdidnotsleep.AndifIdreamed, thenitwasunlikeanydreamIhadeverknown.

I looked out upon theroad, and there were thosemoving along it. Yet when Itried to see them throughwhatappearedtobeamist, Icouldnot.Theyremainedbut

shapes, approximating men.Couldtheybemen?

Though I could not seethem clearly, their emotionflowed tome. Theywere allmoving in one direction, andthiswasaretreat.Therewasavast and overwhelmingfeeling of—no, it was notdefeat, not as if some enemyhad pressed them into thiswithdrawal, but rather thatcircumstances were against

them. They seemed to longfor what they left behind,withthelongingofthosetornfromdeeprooting.

Now I knew that theywere not all alike or of onekind. Some as they passedgave to me their sense ofregret,orloss,asclearlyasifthey had shouted it aloud inwordsIcouldunderstand.Butothers were less able tocommunicate in this fashion,

though their emotions werenonethelessdeep.

The main press of thatstrange and ghostly companywaspast.Nowtherewasonlya handful of stragglers, or ofthosewhofounditthehardestto leave. Did I or did I nothear the sound of weepingthrough the rain? If they didnotweepinfacttheyweptinthought,andtheirsorrowtoreat me so I could not look at

themany longer,butcoveredmy eyes with my hands andfeltonmydustycheekstearsofmyowntomatchtheirs.

“Kerovan!”The shadow people were

gone.Andsowastheforceofthe storm. Riwal's hand washeavy on my shoulder, as ifhe shook me awake fromsleep.

“Kerovan!” There was asharp demand in his voice,

andIblinkedatwhat Icouldseeofhiminthedusk.

“Whatisthematter?”“You—you were crying

out.Whathappenedtoyou?”I told him of the shadow

people withdrawing in theirsorrow.

“Perhaps you have thesight,”hesaidgravelywhenIhad done. “For that mightwellhavehappenedwhentheOldOnesleftthisland.Have

you ever tried farseeing ortestedatalentforthePower?”

“NotI!”Iwasdeterminedthat I would not be cut offfrommyfellowsbyasecondburden. Different I might bein body because of the curselaid on me before my birth,but I needed not add to thatdifference by striving tofollow those paths trod byWisewomen and a few mensuchasRiwal.Andhedidnot

urge me, after my quickdenial. Such a way must befollowed by one whollywilling;notbyoneledintoitby another. It has itsdisciplines that are in someways more severe than anywarrior training, and its ownlaws.

After the storm the daylightenedagain,andwewereabletosetoutatabriskpace.Thewaterstillsettledinpools

and hollows, and we refilledoursmallerwaterbag, lettingthe horses drink their fillbeforewemovedon.

I wondered, when werodethatway,ifIwouldhavethesensationof thecompanyof those I had seen in thevisionordream.Butthatwasnot so. And shortly I forgotthe intensity of the emotionthat I had shared with them.ForthatIwasthankful.

The road, which had runso straight, made a widecurve heading toward thenorth and the greaterunknown of theWaste.Nowahead we caught sight ofheights making a dark blueline across the sky ofevening,asifweheadedforamountainchain.

Here also the land wasmore hospitable. There weretrees where before had been

mostly shrubs and stretchesof grassland. We came towhere the road arched in abridgeoverastreamofsomesize. And it was beside thatrunning water that wecamped for the night. In factRiwal settled us, not on thebank of the stream, but on abar which thrust out into it.Thewaterwashigh from thestorm, and therewas flotsamcarried with it, piled around

therocksedgingthatbar.I eyed his choice with

some disfavor. To my mindhehaddeliberatelyselectedasitewhichwouldgiveuslittleroom and which appeareddangerous from the sweepofwater.Hemusthavereadmyexpression for he said, “Thisischancyland,Kerovan.Itisbest to take the commonprecautionswhenwithin it—someuncommononestoo.”

“Commonprecautions?”Hegesturedatthestream.

“Running water. That whichisill-disposedtous,ifitbeofthe Power and not human,cannotcrossrunningwater.Ifwe camp so, we have onlyonefronttodefend.”

So reasoned, it wascommonsense.ThusIpushedrocksandpulledloosedrifttoclear a space between for usandthehorses.NordidRiwal

denyusa firemadefromthedriest of the drift. The riverwas falling, but the currentwas still swift. It held lifealso,forIsawadarkshapeofa length to suggest that thefishof thiscountrywereofahuge size, though I wasteased by the disturbingsuggestion that that shadowbeneath the surface did notaltogetherresembleanyfishIknew. I decided that in the

Waste it was better not toprobe too deeply into theunknown.

We set a watch, as wewould in enemy country. Atfirst,duringmytourofduty,Iwas so uneasily alert that Ifound myself peopling eachshadowwithanintruder,untilItookmyfanciesinhandandforcedcontroloverthem.

Though thedayhadbeensunless, we did not lack a

moon. Its rays wereparticularly strong, makingthe landscape all black andsilver—silver in the open,black in the shadows. Therewas life out there, for once Iheard thedrumofhoofs,andour horses nickered andtugged at their tethers, as ifsome of their wild kin hadpounded by. Once I heard adistant,mournfulcry,likethehowl of a huntingwolf.And

something very large withwingsplanednoiselesslyoverour camp as if to inspect us.Yet none of these werefrighteninginthemselves,forall men know that there arewildhorsesintheWaste,andwolves run through the dalesaswell.Andtherearewingednight-hunterseverywhere.

No, it was not thosesounds that disturbed me. ItwaswhatIdidnothear.ForI

was as certain as if I couldsee it that out there in theblack and silver land lurkedsomething, or someone, whowatchedandlistenedwiththesameintensitythatIdid.AndwhetheritwasofgoodorillIcouldnotguess.

Sun and morningbanished such fancies. Thelandwasopen, empty, in thedaylight. We crossed thehump of the bridge and

headed on, while before usthe mountains grew sharpertothesight.

By nooning we were inthe foothills, which wereridgessharperthanourdales,morelikeknifeslashesinsoiland rock. No longer was theroadstraight.Itnarrowedtoaway along which two of usmightstillrideabreast,butnowider, and it twisted andcurved, ran up and down, as

if its makers had followedalways the easiest routethrough thismazeofheights.Here, too, the Old Ones hadlefttheirmark.Carvedonthewalls of rock were faces,some grotesque, somehuman-seeming and benign,andoftenbandsof runes thatRiwalbusiedhimselftocopy.

Thoughnoonecouldreadthe script of the Old Ones,Riwal had hopes that

somedayhewouldbeabletodo so. We had dawdled sowhilehecopiedtherunesthatnoon found us in a narrowvale where we took our restunder the chin of a vast facethat protruded strongly fromthe parent cliff of which ithadbeencarved.

I had studied it as wecame up, finding it insomething vaguely familiar,thoughwhat thatwasIcould

notsay.Oddlyenough,thoughwe

were here surrounded by thework of those who hadvanished, I felt free of thatwatching, as ifwhatever hadbeenhereoncewaslonggoneandhadleftnotrace.Andmyspirits rose as they had notsincethestormcaughtus.

“Whyallthesecarvings?”I wondered. “The farther wego, the more they are

clusteredonthewalls.”Riwal swallowed a

mouthful of travel bread inordertoanswer.“Perhapswenow approach some place ofimportance; a shrine, even acity. I have gathered andsiftedthestoriesoftradersforyears, yet I know of nonewhohavecomethisway,intothe foothills of themountains.”

That he was excited I

couldsee,andIknewthatheanticipated some discoverythatwouldbefargreaterthanany he had made during hisyears of wandering in theWaste.Hedidnotlingeroverhis food, nor did I, for hisenthusiasm grew to be minealso. We did not pausebeneath that giant chin forlong,butrodeon.

The road continued toweave through the foothills,

and the carvings grew morecomplex.Therewerenomoreheadsorfaces.Nowrunesranin complex patterns of linesand circles. Riwal reined inbeforeone.

“TheGreatStar!”Hisawewasplaintosee.

Surveying the complexityof thatdesign, I couldat lastmake out a basic five-pointstar.Butthestarwasoverlaidwithawealthofothercurves

and bits, so it took carefulexaminationtomakeitoutatall.

“TheGreatStar?”Iasked.Riwal had dismounted

and gone to the rock face inwhich that pattern was sodeeply chiseled, running hisfingers along the lines as farupashecouldreach,asifhewished to assure himself bytouch that what his eyesreportedwastrue.

“Itisaway,thatmuchweknow,ofcallingupononeofthehighestofthePowers,”hesaid, “though all save thedesign has been lost to us.NeverbeforehaveIseenitinso complex a setting. I mustmakeadrawingofthis!”

Straightway he broughtout his horn of ink, tight-capped for journeying; hispen; and a fresh piece ofparchmentonwhichhebegan

to copy the design. So lostwasheinthetaskthatIgrewrestless.At last I felt I couldno longer just sit and watchhisslowstrokeuponstrokeashe studied each part of thedesigntosetitdown.

“Ishallrideona little,”Itold him. He grunted someanswer, intent upon hislabors.

Ride on I did, and theroad took a last turning—to

theend!Beforemeaflatrockface

bore no sign of any gatewayordoor.Thepavementendedflush with that cliff. I staredindisbeliefat suchanabruptand seemingly meaninglessfinish to our quest. A roadthat began nowhere andended thus—?What had ledtoitsmaking?Whatcoulditspurposehavebeen?

Idismountedandwent to

run my fingertips along thesurface of the cliff. It wasreal,solidrock—dieroadranto itandended. Iswungfirstto one side and then to theother, beyond the boundariesof the pavement, seekingsome continuation, somereason. There were twopillarsstanding,oneoneitherhand,asiftheyguardedsomeportal.But the portal did notexist!

I advanced to lay handupon the left pillar, and, as Idid so, at its foot I caught aglimpseof something. Itwasa faint glimmer, near-buriedin the gravel. Straightway Iwas onmy knees, using firstmyfingersandthenthepointof my knife, to loosen myfind fromacrack inwhich ithadbeenhalf-buried.

ThegleamingobjectIhadcupped in my hand was a

strange find. It was a ball, asmall globe of crystal, asubstance one might havethought would have beenshattered among these harshrocks long since. Yet it didnot even bear a scratch uponitssmoothsurface.

Within it was a tinyimage, sowell-wrought as tobe the masterpiece of somegem-cutter's art—the imageof a gryphon, the beast that

was my own House symbol.The creature had been posedwith one eagle-clawed footraised, its beak open as if itwere about to utter someword of wisdom to which itbade me listen. Set in theglobe directly above its headwasatwistedloopofgold,asif it had once been so linkedtoachainforwearing.

AsIstoodwith itcuppedin my hand, the glimmer of

light that had led me to itsdiscoverygrewstronger.AndI will swear that the crystalitselfbecamewarm,butonlywith such warmth as waspleasing.

I held it on the palm ofmyhand,levelwithmyeyes,that I might study thegryphonclosely.NowIcouldsee that there were smallflecksofcrimson in theheadto mark the eyes. And those

flecks sparkled, even thoughthere was no outer light toreflectwithinthem,almostasiftheyhadlifeoftheirown.

Long had I been familiarwith all the broken bits onRiwal's shelves, but neverbeforehad sucha thingbeenfound intact—save for thebrokers loop at the top, andthat, I saw, could be easilyrepaired. Perhaps I shouldofferittoRiwal.AndyetasI

felt its warmth against myflesh, saw the gryphon'sstance of wisdom andwarning within, I had thebelief that thiswasmeantforme alone and that its findingwas not by mere chance butby the workings of somepurpose beyond myknowledge. If it were truethat my mother's House hadintermated with Old Ones,then it could well be that

some small portion of suchblood inmyownveinsmademe find the crystal globefamiliarandpleasant.

I took it back to Riwal.When he saw it, there wasvastamazementonhisface.

“A treasure—and trulyyours,” he said slowly, as ifhewishedwhathe saidwerenotso.

“Ifoundit—butweshareequally.” I made myself be

fair.He shook his head. “Not

this. Is it mere chance thatbrings agryphon toonewhowears that badge already?”Reaching forth, he touchedthe left breast of the jerkinabovemymail,onwhichwasdiscreetly set the smallgryphonheadIalwayswore.

He would not even takethe globe into his hand,though he bent his head to

studyitclosely.“This is a thing of

Power,” he said at last. “Doyounotfeelthelifeinit?”

That I did. The warmthand well-being that spreadfromitwasafactIcouldnotdeny.

“Itwillhavemanyuses.”Hisvoicewaslow,andIsawthat his eyes were nowclosed,sohewasnotviewingit at all. “It shall bind when

the need is for binding; itshallopenadoorwherethereis want of a key; it shall beyour fate, to lead you intostrangeplaces.”

Thoughhehadneversaidhe could farsee, in thatmoment I knew that he wasgrippedbyacompellingforcewhich enabled him toenvisionthefutureusesofthething I had found. Iwrappedit within a scrap of his

parchment and stowed itagainst my flesh within mymail for the greatest safetythatIcouldgiveit.

AboutthebarecliffRiwalwas as puzzled as I. All thesigns suggested a portal ofsome importance, yet therewasnoportal.Andwehad,inthe end, to be content withwhat we had discovered andto begin the trek back fromtheWaste.

Neverduringthatjourneydid Riwal ask to see thegryphonagain,nordidIbringit forth. Yet there was nomomentduringthereturnthatI was not aware of what Icarried. And the two nightsthatwe lay encampedon thereturn road, I had strangedreams, of which I couldrememberverylittlesavethattheyleftanurgencyuponmeto return to the only home I

had ever known, becausebefore me lay a task ofimportance.

4

Joisan

Though Ihad little liking forYngilda, I found her brotherToross unlike her. In the

autumn of that year, soonafterwe returned to Ithkrypt,he came riding over the hillswith a small escort, theirswords all scabbarded withpeace-strings, ready to takepart in the fall hunt thatwould fill our winter larderafter the kills were salteddown.

Differing from his sisterinbodyaswellasinmind,hewasaslender,well-setyouth,

his hair more red than theusual bronze of a dalesman.Hepossessedaquickwitandagiftofsong thatheused toadvantageinthehallatnight.

IheardDameMathsaytoone of her women that thatone, meaning Toross, couldwell carry a water hornthrough life to collect thetears of maids sighing afterhim. Yet he did nothing toprovoke such admiration;

never courted their notice,being as ready in riding andpracticeofarmsasanyofthemen, and well-accepted bythem.

Buttomehewasafriendsuch as I had not foundbefore. He taught me thewords of many songs andhow to finger his own knee-harp.Nowandthenhewouldbringmeabranchofbrilliantleavesclippedattheirautumn

splendor, or some like trifletodelighttheeye.

Not that he had muchtime for such pleasures, forthiswasabustlingtimewhenthere was much to be donefor the ordering of suppliesagainst the coming of colddays.We stewed some fruitsand set them in jars withparchment tied firmly overthemouths;driedothersuch;brought forth heavy clothing

and inspected it for the needofrepairs.

More and more of thisDame Math left to myordering,asshesaidthatnowI was so nigh in years tobecoming the lady of mylord's household Imust havethe experience of suchways.I made mistakes, but I alsolearned much, because I hadnomindtobeshamedbeforestrangers in another keep.

And I felt more than a littlepride when my uncle wouldnotice with approval somedishofmycontriving.Hehada sweet tooth, and rose andviolet sugars spun artfullyinto flowers were to him anamusing conceit with whichtoendameal,andoneofmygreatertriumphs.

Though I busied myselfsobyday,andevenalittlebylamplight in the evening

when we dealt with theclothing, yet I could notaltogether thrust out ofmindsomeofthethoughtsYngildahad left withme. Thus I didsomething in secret thatotherwise only a muchyounger maid would havethoughton.

There was a well to thewest in the dale that had astory about it—that if onewent there when the full

moon was reflected on itswater surface and cast in apin, then luck would follow.Thus,notquitebelieving,yetstill drawn by some smallhope that perhaps there wasluck to be gained by thisdevice, I stole away atmoonrise (which was nosmall task in itself) and cutacross the newly harvestedfieldstothewell.

Thenightwaschill,andI

pulled high the hood of mycloak. Then I stood lookingdown at the silveredreflections in thewater and Iheld out my pin, ready todrop it into thediskmirroredthere. However, before Ireleased it, the reflectionappeared to shiver andchange into something else.ForalongmomentIwassurethatwhatIhadseentherehadbeen far different from the

moon, more like a crystalball.Imusthavedroppedthepin without being aware, forsuddenly there was atroubling of the water, andthe vision, if vision it hadbeen,wasgone.

I was so startled that Iforgotthesmallspell-rhymeIshould have spoken at thatmoment.Somyluck-bringingwasfornaught,andIlaughedatmyownactionas I turned

andranfromthewell.That there is

ensorcellment and spell-laying in the world we allknow. There are theWisewomenwho are learnedin such, as well as others,suchasthePast-Abbess,whohave control over powersmostmendonot understand.Onecanevokesomeofthesepowersifonehasthegiftandthetraining,butIhadneither.

Perhaps it is better not todabble in suchmatters,Only—why at that moment had Iseen again (if I had in truthseen it) that englobedgryphon?

Gryphon—beneath thefoldsofmycloakmyfingerssoughtandfoundtheoutlinesofthatbeastasitwasstitchedupon my tabard. It was thesymboloftheHouseofUlm,towhichIwasnowboundby

solemn oath. What was helike, my thoughts spun on,thisunseen,unknown lordofmine?Whyhadheneversentto me such a likeness ofhimself as Yngilda carried?Monster—Yngilda had noreason to speak spiteful lies,there must lie some core oftruth inwhat she had said tome.Therewasoneway—

Gifts came yearly fromUlmsdale on my name-day.

Supposethatwhentheywerebroughtthisyear,Isoughtoutthe leader of the partybringingthem,askedofhimaboontobecarriedtohislord:that we exchange ourlikenesses. I had my ownpicture, limned by uncle'sscribe,whohadsuchatalent.Yes, that was what I woulddo!

It seemed to me in thatmomentthatperhapsthewell

had answered me by puttingthatthoughtintomyhead.SoI sped, content, back to thehall, pleased that none therehadmarkedmyabsence.

NowIsettoworkuponaprojectofmyown.Thatwasmakingasuitablecaseforthepicture drawn on parchment.As deftly as I could, Imounted it on a piece ofpolishedwood.

For it I then worked a

small bag, the fore-partembroidered with thegryphon, the back with thebroken sword. I hoped mylord could understand mysubtle meaning: that I wasdutifully looking forward toUlmsdale; that Ithkrypt wasmypast,notmyfuture.ThisIdid in secret and in stolenmomentsoftime,forIhadnomind to let others know myplan. But I had no time to

hide it one late afternoonwhen Toross came upon mewithoutwarning.

The mounted picture laybefore me in the open, as Ihadbeenusingittomeasure.When he saw it he saidsharply, “There is one here,kinswoman, who sees youwell asyouare.Whosehandlimnedthis?”

“Archan, my uncle'sscribe.”

“Andforwhomhaveyouhaditlimned?”

Again there was thatsharp note in his voice, as ifhehadarighttodemandsuchan answer from me. I wasmore than a little surprised,and also displeased, that hewouldusesuchatone,wherebefore he had been allcourtesyandsoftspeeches.

“It is to be a surprise formy Lord Kerovan. Soon he

will sendmyname-daygifts.This I shall return to him.” Idisliked having to spreadmyplan before him, yet hisquestion had been too directtoevade.

“Your lord!” He turnedhis face a little from me.“One forgets these ties exist,Joisan. Do you ever thinkwhat it will mean to goamong strangers, to a lordyouhaveneverseen?”Again

that roughness in his speech,whichIcouldnotunderstand.Ididnot thinkitkindofhimtoseizesouponahiddenfearthis way and drag it outbeforemyeyes.

I put aside my needle,took up the picture and theunfinishedcase,andwrappedthem in the cloth wherein Ikeptthem,withoutansweringhim. I had no intention ofsaying “yes” or “no” to that

question which he had norighttoask.

“Joisan—thereistherightof bride-refusal!” The wordsburst from him as he stoodthere with his head stillaverted.Hishandswerelacedupon his sword belt, and Isaw his fingers tighten andpress.

“To so dishonor hisHouseandmine?”Ireturned.“Do you deem me such a

nothing?Whatapooropinionyou carry of me, kinsman!What have I done to makeyou believe I would openlyshameanyman?”

“Man!”Heswungaroundtofacemenow.Therewasatautness to his mouth, anexpression about his eyes Ihad never seen before. “Doyou not knowwhat they sayoftheheirofUlmsdale?Man—what was your uncle

thinkingofwhenheagreedtosuchamatch?Joisan,noonecan hold a maid to such abargain when she has beenbetrayedwithinitsbonds!Bewiseforyourselfandthinkofrefusal—now!'’

Iarose.Inmeangergrewwarm.But it is inmy naturethatwhen I ammost in ire Iam also the most placidseeming outwardly. Forwhich, perhaps, I should

thankfortune,formanytimeshasitgivenmegoodmanner.

“Kinsman, you forgetyourself. Such speech isunseemly, and Iknowshamethat you could think me sopoora thingas to listento it.Youhadbetterlearntoguardyourtongue.”SosayingIlefthim, not heeding his quickattempttokeepmethere.

Then I climbed to myownsmallchamberandthere

stood by the northwardwindow, gazing out into thedusk.Iwasshivering,butnotwiththecold;ratherwiththatfearIthoughtIhadovercomein the weeks since Yngildahadplanteditinmymind.

Yngilda's spite, and nowthis strange outburst fromToross, who, I had notbelieved, could have saidsuchathingtome!Therightof bride-refusal, yes, that

existed. But the few times ithad been invoked in the pasthad led to death feudsbetween the Houses soinvolved. Monster—Yngildahad said that. And nowToross—repeating the word“man” as if it could not beapplied to my lord! Yet myuncle would not wish to useme ill, and surely he hadconsidered very well themarriage proposal when it

hadfirstbeenmadetohim.IhadalsoDameMath'ssolemnoath.

Ilongedallatonceforthegarden of the Past-AbbessMalwinna.ToheralonecouldI speak of thismatter. DameMath's stand I already knew;thatmy lordwas a victimofmisfortune. This I couldbelievemorereadilythanthathewasinanywaynotaman.For after sworn oaths

between my uncle and hisfather,suchathingcouldnotbe. And I heartened myselfby such sensible council,pinning additional hope onmyplan to sendKerovan thepicture.

But thereafter I avoidedToross as much as I could,though he made specialattemptsseveraltimestohaveprivateconversationwithme.I could claim duties enough

to keep me aloof, and claimthem I speedily did. Thentherecameadaywhenhehadprivate conversationwithmyuncle, and before the day'send he and hismen rode outof Ithkrypt. DameMath wassummoned to my uncle, andthereafter Archan came tobringmealso.

MyunclewasscowlingasI had seen him do at timeswhenhewascrossedinsome

matter. And that scowl wasturned blackly on me as Ientered.

“What is this boil oftrouble you have started,wench?” His voice was onlyslightly below a roar, aimedat me when I was scarcelywithinthedoorway.“Areyousolightofwordthatyou—”

Dame Math arose fromher chair. Her face was asangercast as his, but she

lookedathim,notme.“We shall have Joisan's

word before you speak so!”Herlowertonecutacrosshis.“Joisan,thisdayTorosscameto your uncle and spoke ofbride-refusal—”

It was my turn tointerrupt; my anger alsoheatedby suchanaccusationfrommyuncle,beforehehadasked my position in thematter.

“So did he speak to mealso. I told him I would notlisten; nor am I an oath-breaker! Or do you, whoknow me well, also believethat?”

DameMathnodded.“ItisasIthought.HasJoisanlivedunder your eyes for all theseyears without your knowingher for what she is? WhatsaidTorosstoyou,Joisan?”

“He seemed to think evil

concerning my LordKerovan, and that I shouldusebride-refusalnot togo tohim.ItoldhimwhatIthoughtof his shameful words andleft him, nor would I haveany private speech with himthereafter.”

“Bride-refusal!”Myunclebrought his fist down on thetablewiththethumpofawardrum. “Is that younglingmad? To start a blood feud,

not only with Ulmsdale, buthalf the north who wouldstand beside Ulric in such amatter! Why does he urgethis?”

There was frost in DameMath'seyes,acertainquirktoher lipswhich suggested thatshe was not altogetherdispleasedathisaskingthat.

“I can think of tworeasons, brother. Onestemming from his own hot

blood.Theotherplacedinhismindby—”

“Enough! There is noneedtolistwhatmayormaynothavemovedTorosstothisfolly. Now listen, girl,” heswung on me again. “Ulrictookoaththathisheirwasfittobethelordofanywoman.That hiswifewas disorderedinherwitswhen the ladwasborn, thatallmenknow.Sheso took such a dislike to the

childshenamedhimmonster,which he is not. Also Ulricspokewithmeprivatelyupona matter which has much todowith this,andwhichI tellyou now, but you shall keepmum-mouthed about ithereafter—remember that,girl!”

“I shall do,” I gave himmy promise when he pausedasifexpectingthatassurancefromme.

“Wellenough.Thenlisten—there is always somethingbehind such wild tales whenyouhearthem,solearninthefuture to winnow the truefromthefalse.

“TheLadyTephana,whois your lord's mother (and afine mother she has been tohim!), had an elder sonHlymer,byherfirstmarriage.Since he got no lands fromhis father, she brought him

with her to Ulmsdale. Inaddition she has had adaughter—Lisana—who isbut one year younger thanyourlord.

“This daughter she hasseen betrothed to one of herownHouse.Andthedaughtershe dotes upon with all theaffectiontoequalherdistastefor Kerovan. Thus Ulric ofUlmsdale has reason tobelieve that within his own

household the seeds oftrouble for his heir—forHlymermakescommoncausewith Lisana's betrothed, andthey see a lord to comewhois not Kerovan. Ulric canmake nomove against them,for he has no proof. Butbecausehewouldnotseehissondespoiledwhenhe couldno longer protect him, hewished some strong tie forKerovan, tounitehimwith a

House that would supporthimwhenthetimecomesthathe needs shields raised forhim.

“Since no man can sit inthehighseatofakeepwhoisnot soundofbodyandmind,how better create doubt inpossible supporters for athreatened heir than bybending rumor to one's use,spreading tales of ‘monsters’and the like? You have seen

whathappenswhensuchtalescome into the hearing ofthosewhodonotguesswhatmay lie behind their telling.Torosscametomewithsucha story—he is filled with it.Since I am sworn not toreveal, save to the partiesmost deeply concerned, anyofUlric'sfearsforthefuture,IbadeToross rideforth ifhecould not hold his tongue.But that you might have

listenedtohim—”I shookmyhead. “Itwas

he who came to me with it.But I hadalreadyheard sucha tale in greater detail fromhissisterinTrevamper.”

“So Math told me.” Theflush had faded from myuncle's face. Now I knew hewas slightly ashamed of theway he had greeted me, notthathewouldeversayso.Butsuch things had always been

understoodbetweenus.“You see girl,” he

continued,“howfarthisstoryhas spread. I do not thinkUlricisaltogetherwiseinnotbetterorderinghishousehold.But each man is lord in hisown keep and needs mustface his own shadows there.Butknowthis—yourweddedlordissuchamanasyouwillbe proud to hand-fast whenthe time comes—as it will

soon now. Take no heed ofthese rumors, knowing theirsourceandpurpose.”

“For which knowing Igivethanks,”Ireplied.

When Dame Math and Ilefthiscompanytogether,shedrew me apart into her ownchamber and looked at mesearchingly, as if by thatsteady gaze alone she couldhunt out every unspokenthoughtwithinmymind.

“How chanced Toross tospeak to you on this matter?He must have had somereason—one does not soeasilybreakcustom.Youareaweddedlady,Joisan,notanunspoken-for maid whoallows her eyes to stray thiswayorthat.”

So I toldher ofmyplan.To my surprise she did notobjectnorseemtothinkwhatI was doingwas beneath the

dignityofmystation.Insteadshenoddedbriskly.

“What you do is fitting,Joisan. Perhaps we shouldhave arranged such anexchangeourselves longago.Thatwouldhavebrokensuchrumors. Had you had apicture of Kerovan in yourbelt-purse when Yngildaspoke to you, it would haveansweredwell.SoTorosswasangered at what you did? It

was past time when thatyouthshouldhavereturnedtothose who sent him to maketrouble!” She was angryagain, butnotwithme.Onlywhatmovedhernowshedidnotexplain.

So I finished the picturecase, and Dame Mathapproved its making as anexcellentexampleofmybestneedlecraft.Makingallready,I laid it away in my coffer

againstthearrivalofthepartyfromUlmsdale.

They were several dayslate, and the party itself wasdifferent from the earlierones, for the armsmen wereolder, and several of thembore old, healed woundswhichwouldkeepthemfromactive field service. Theirleader was crooked of backandwalkedwithalurchandadip.

Besides a casket that hedelivered with ceremony tome, he bore a message tubesealedwithUlric'ssymbolformy uncle and wasstraightwaytakenintoprivateconversation with him, as ifthis were a matter of greatimport. I wondered if mysummons to Ulmsdale hadcomeatlast.Butthenatureofthe bearer was such that Icouldnotacceptthat.Mylord

would have come himself aswas right, andwith a retinuetodomehonorthroughthoselands we must cross to hishome.

Within the casket was aneckletofnorthernamberandgold beads, with a girdle tomatch. Truly a gift to showmeprized.YetIwishedithadbeen just such a picture as Ihad ready to return to him. IknewthatDameMathwould

make opportunity to let mespeak alone with this Jagowho commanded theUlmsdale force, that I mightentrusthimwithmygift.Butitappearedhehadsomuchtosay to my uncle there waslittle time for that, forhedidnot come out of the innerchamberuntilthehourfortheeveningmeal.

Iwas glad hewas seatedbeside me, for it gave me a

chancetosaythatIwouldseehim privately, that I hadsomething to entrust to him.Buthehadaspeechinreturn.

“Lady, you have hadUlmsdale's gift, but I haveanotherforyoufromthehandof L