A Mankind Witch (39 page)

Poor little Heinrich could go out in the cold and deliver the letters.

"I have found out where the arm-ring of Odin has gone," said Signy, on her return. She brought with her a strong smell of the stables.

"Where?" asked Manfred.

"Nowhere," she said. "It has just been made invisible. It is still there, touching the rock."

Erik shook his head. "It would have to have been made intangible, too, Princess. We put a cloth onto the altar to collect dust. We'd have seen the bump, surely?"

She rubbed her forehead tiredly. Erik noticed that it had a dirty streak on it. "Oh. Well, that's what the dwarf thought."

"And what challenge have they given you, Princess?" asked Cair, handing her a cloth and a clay dipper of water. You had to admire the man's thoughtfulness, admitted Erik. He'd managed to get their saddlebags. But Cair had brought water, and given the small woman exactly what she wanted most. Erik had decided, back when they'd been eluding trolls, that he'd rather have the Barbary corsair on his side than against him. Looking at him now, he decided the best way to be sure of that was to befriend this odd little princess. Besides, he was getting used to her. She had her blind spots, but she was as true as sword steel. Courageous in danger . . . a very different person to the one he'd met at Kingshall. Her problems seemed to lie more in a lack of experience with life rather than in anything else. And her "thrall" had enough of that for both of them. He watched as she washed her hands, and then face, delicately as any cat, not answering him.

Finally she said quietly. "I can't do it. And it makes no difference if you do yours either. They will let you go. But there is nowhere to go. It's just to keep you docile. To keep you hoping. But even if you all succeed, you will just have to come back. There is no food out there and there is no way out of here, unless you cross their bridge. And they will only let us cross that if I succeed. And I can't."

"I believe that you can do anything, Princess," said Cair, firmly, taking the soiled cloth from her hands as if he'd been a body servant all his life.

"Not embroidery," she said, forlornly, looking like the dejected girl-child Erik had first seen back at Kingshall.

Cair stood like a statue, looking at her fixedly. And then a savage grin spread across his face, the grin of a fox looking at an unguarded henhouse. "A shame that," he said, hastily hiding the smile. He gestured at the open cave-mouth "Let us take a little walk in this pleasant hell hole. Take the air."

They walked out, and Erik located the perfect spot for conspiracy. It was a narrow ledge—a splinter of the black, glassy rock that hung some twenty feet above the valley. The ledge ended just beyond Erik, and by dint of Manfred scattering glassy gravel back along the ledge they had a spot which not even invisible listeners could approach silently. They sat kicking their legs in space, with Manfred tossing rocks at the valley, as they talked idly about their day. "The plant beds require water and fertility. The soil is spent. So I have been bringing horse dung to it," explained Signy.

"You, Princess?" Cair nearly fell off the ledge in apparent shock.

"Who else?" she asked.

"I will try to arrange something . . ."

He looked ready to leap up and do it. She put a restraining had on his shoulder. "Cair. You showed me that you could shovel horse dung and remain a man. I remain a princess of Telemark, whatever I do."

"But . . ."

She shook her head firmly. "We do what we must. Is that not what you said to me? Besides . . . in a way I have always been a thrall."

Manfred cleared his throat. "There are no invisible folk below us. I've been tossing rocks in a pattern that would have laid them out if they were. What did you want to talk to us about? You two can argue horse dung later. Personally, I don't think carrying ore makes me less of the heir to Brittany, although it does smell better than horse dung, Princess."

"You are right," she nodded. "It is in the blood. But there is honor."

"There's ends and means to achieving those ends," said Erik. He'd shoveled horse dung himself, after all. There was little enough labor at Bokkefloi. "There's nothing dishonorable about horse dung. But can we get back to your next fiendish plan, Cair, so we all know what we're in for this time."

Cair nodded. "I think we will speak Frankish," he said quietly.

"I'm still not betting that this is safe, either," said Manfred equally quietly, still throwing more rocks at the valley below them. "The dwarves have certain skills we can't match, Cair."

"Well, then we must just go around them," said Cair. "The princess made me see that."

"How?" she asked, shyly. "I don't think they will let us cheat . . . Besides, that would be dishonorable." Something about the way she said it told Erik that an oath sworn by this Norsewoman would be utterly binding.

Cair nodded. "Not cheat, or not in any way that the dwarves do not accept. Each of the challenges has a loophole. They are possible—somehow. Manfred simply has to get into the next cave. There is a tiny hole, in adamantine-hard rock. He could never fit. But there is no exclusion that says he has to do it that way. Someone tried to cut their way through with a mattock. We'll try a more direct method. The rock Erik has to lift—a lever will do that."

"I have to hoist it higher than my head," said Erik.

"A lever, and then a pulley system. Something you have already thought of."

"Could work," admitted Erik.

"And, Princess, the problem is that you cannot see close-work?" asked Cair.

She nodded. "If you can make me a device so that I can work at a distance, say seven feet, it would be easy."

"It would be pretty difficult to control a needle seven feet long," said Erik, managing to keep a straight face. "I have a feeling that you want to make some kind of eyeglasses, Cair."

Cair nodded. "Yes. And I think I have an answer to my challenge, too. But it is all contingent on one thing." He turned to Manfred. "I will contrive that you and your man return to your own people, but I need your oath, before I will."

Manfred looked faintly amused. "Oath?"

"Yes," said Cair. "I am increasingly of the opinion that it would bind you. Princess Signy is here because of a false accusation. She may have to flee her home. I want you to swear to me that you will grant her sanctuary in the Empire, and escort her there, protecting her with your arms, if need be."

Manfred chuckled. "You don't want a pardon yourself? A truce between Cair Aidin and the Empire? I'm just as well placed to offer and to honor that."

Cair raised an eyebrow. "And deprive my fleet of its legitimate prey? No, Manfred of Brittany, forget the play-acting of ordinary negotiation. I read horse tracks well enough to know that you and Erik came back for me when I was lying under a troll. I'll give you a truce until we're free of this place, or rather, until the princess is safe. And don't pretend that it isn't within your power, or that you still doubt her innocence."

"I am not a cow that you two can chaffer over," said Signy, crossly. "My stepmother treated me like that. I see now that it was a mistake." She pointed at Manfred. "Cair is my thrall. You are bound by treaty to stay your hand from me and my property. Attempt to capture or injure him and I will hold you forsworn. I am not leaving Telemark. I shall live and die in it."

Manfred nodded to Cair, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I'll swear your oath. I think you've got enough problems of your own. I might even see if I can persuade Uncle to pardon you for what you've done. He puts a high value on Erik. I'm not so sure about me."

Cair smiled sardonically. "But then I would have to forgo my ransom for the two of you. And I don't catch prizes like this every day."

Signy looked sternly at him. "You're to leave them alone. They're also protected by the treaty."

"Very well, Princess," said Cair, meekly. But no one was fooled by his meekness.

"And what do you say, Erik?" asked Manfred, looking at his mentor-bodyguard's frown.

Erik shook his head. "I say we should get out of here first, and then back to Empire lands, before we worry about it. And the Godar Hohenstauffen wants your thick head attached to your shoulders. The oath that Cair asks will probably mean he has reason to keep it there. I think the Emperor would consider it a small price to pay."

"The sage has spoken," said Manfred, grinning. "Very well. Now can we get back to those beds? Mine is calling me. And I have a feeling that Cair will leave us with no sleep in the near future. He seems to like doing that."

They walked back to the small rock chamber that served as their quarters. They'd eaten, courtesy of the dwarves, and sleep, too, came swiftly. At least there was no apparent danger of being killed in their sleep here. The dwarves would far rather they worked themselves to death.

The next day Erik managed to find time to walk beside Manfred as they set off to their various labors. "What do you make of this situation, Manfred. This oath? And our 'witch'?"

Manfred grinned. "He's more of a witch than she is, if you ask me. Wand-pointing thief or not."

They walked in silence. "I've thought of something, Manfred. That wand—who did it point at?"

"Her."

"Did it?"

Manfred pursed his lips. "It did stop abruptly, but there was no one else, really."

"There was someone behind her. Directly behind her."

"Vortenbras?" exclaimed Manfred. "He stole his own oath-ring?"

Erik nodded slowly. "It came to me when Cair said that he would not swear a truce-oath with the Empire, and deprive his fleet of its prey."

Manfred bit his lip. "Son of a . . . Vortenbras is big enough to kill a few guards. What about his mother?"

"She's dead. Cair saw her head in a jar, and he's not the kind of man who makes mistakes, Manfred. I imagine Vortenbras sold her to this troll-wife, Bakrauf."

"A nice man, Vortenbras," said Manfred, wide-eyed.

"Indeed. I'm sure he planned to kill Signy, too."

Manfred rubbed his big hands. "Well! I think the Empire might want a rival claimant to the throne of Telemark, badly. Uncle will be very pleased with that oath, even if we have to see that Cair succeeds in getting her out of Telemark. I don't think that the Redbeard is accustomed to failure. But we'll still have to give him what help we can."

Erik blinked at him. "She is a woman, Manfred."

"So was Queen Ethelbertha, despite the way she looks in the woodcuts! I knew that all the history my tutors droned at me had to be good for something, one day," said Manfred, with immense satisfaction.

"Ethelbertha didn't have a brother."

Manfred stopped walking. "If I tell our sailor friend from Lesbos about what Signy's brother tried to do, I don't think she'll have one for long. I wouldn't mind giving him a hand, actually."

"We've a treaty to abide by," said Erik, dryly. "Otherwise you might just have to beat me to it."

That evening Cair arrived again before Signy. He looked tired but triumphant. He held out a small piece of glasswork. "It's far from perfect Venetian glassware. But it is transparent—thanks to a little arsenic provided by our hosts. They were very concerned I might season their pottage with it. But Sjárr and Vitr are most impressed with my skills." He chuckled. "I gather they're going to give someone else the poisoned glass to drink from though. They're going to be as disappointed as Bakrauf in her coins."

"Her coins?" asked Erik curiously, examining the little beaker that Cair had made. It was, as Cair said, far from perfect. But the glass was thin and clear, barring a few imperfections and bubbles.

"I made fake coins—lead with a gold foil covering for the kobolds," he explained.

Manfred shook his head. "Why did you even bother with piracy? Now look, Erik has a theory he wants to discuss with you. We think that the diviner might have pointed to Vortenbras as the thief, not your princess. He was standing right behind her."

Cair raised his eyebrows. "I almost wish I believed in divining."

"Magic's real enough, Cair," said Erik.

He shook his head. "Magic is just something that people don't understand and are too lazy to think about."

He was also openly doubtful about Vortenbras sacrificing Queen Albruna to Bakrauf. "He's very dependent on her, Manfred. She's the planner. He's the Viking ideal—but she does the thinking. If you told me that she'd organized it I might be more inclined to believe you. She probably did and then fell foul of the troll-wife."

"Vortenbras told us that his sister was a schemer who had been embittered by losing the throne, remember," said Manfred. "Now that's pretty patently false, and those
björnhednar
bear-men worked for Bakrauf. So they must have been in league with each other."

Cair nodded. "She—Queen Albruna—had Bakrauf's ring. I took it off her."

Erik blinked. "He's a man of many parts, Manfred."

Manfred yawned. Grinned tiredly. "And I'm still inclined to think that maybe he's a magic worker, by the tricks he pulls. How would you have stolen that arm-ring from the temple, Cair?"

The swarthy man grinned. "I'd have hidden it in the thatch of the temple until the hue and cry was over."

"I told you he'd make a better witch," said Manfred to Erik. "I had a look at my challenge today. It appears that we have two hours a day to work on it. Digging a tunnel around should work. It'll take about twenty years at two hours a day."

Cair shook his head. "It is a bit more complex than 'two hours.' The dwarves will allow you to stay on," said Cair, "after they've fed the 'guests.' I asked today." He pulled a face. "I talked at length to Sjárr and Vitr. I'll admit that they're a lot sharper than the trolls or the kobolds. I could almost like them."

Erik was sure that he heard a small chuckle from the far side of the room.

Cair continued smoothly. "Fjalarr is another matter. He thinks he's clever sneaking about, but he should bathe more often."

Cair stared pointedly at the floor next to the far wall. And then nodded . . . "That's got rid of him, for now."