Magic Casement (12 page)

Jalon
rolled back on his side and stared at the sky. “No brothers or sisters?”

Rap
shook his head, then said, “No.”

The
minstrel pondered for a few minutes. “What sort of a person was your
mother?”

“Loving!”

“I’m
sure she was, Rap. You won’t tell me any more?”

“Sir,
there is nothing to tell!” Rap was very close to losing his temper, and
that awareness would only make him lose it faster. Jotnar had notorious
tempers, and he was half jotunn, so he tried never to let himself get really mad
about anything.

Jalon
sighed. “You did not ask how I knew your name.”

No,
he hadn’t. “How did you?”

“Why,
yesterday it was being shouted all over the palace. There was a terrible row in
the royal family. A week or so ago some idiot wagon driver apparently crossed
the causeway at high tide--which is impossible, of course. It seems that the
king had ordered him to leave the island and he had taken the orders a little
too strictly for his own safety. “

Rap’s
heart sank. He had hoped that his foolhardy escapade might have escaped notice,
but of course Lin was a blabbermouth, and the crew of the fishing boat must
have seen.

“It
wasn’t high tide! “

Jalon
ignored the interruption. “The king blamed the hostler, who delayed the
man by requiring him to take a wagon, instead of just putting him on a horse as
the king had expected. The hostler probably meant no harm, but the result was
that the man did expose himself to... certain dangers. The word `miracle’
was being tossed back and forth. “

Rap
groaned.

“It
was only yesterday that Princess Inosolan got wind of the affair. She scolded
her father royally. In fact, I have seldom heard such a tantrum. “

“Oh,
Gods!” Rap muttered. Why in the world would Inos have done such a thing?
Then he said, “Gods! “ much louder, and jumped to his feet.

Firedragon
was moving his herd toward the top of the hill, heading west. It would be a
long chase to cut him off now... unless he was still within earshot? The wind
was behind Rap, so it was worth a try. He cupped his hands and bellowed. For a
moment nothing seemed to happen, but he kept calling, choosing the horses that
responded best. He was just about to give up, leap on Bluebottle, and give
chase-knowing that the pursuit might last for days-when the herd faltered. Two
mares split away and headed for Rap. Outraged, Firedragon rushed after them to
restore discipline.

Now
Rap switched his attention to the other side of the herd. Already they were
almost too far off to recognize, but he thought he could identify some and he
began calling them. By the time Firedragon had recovered the first pair, three
more and a foal had departed.

For
a little while the battle continued, the stallion roaring with fury as he
pounded back and forth across the hillside, trying to bully his charges back on
the right track, Rap calling them away again as soon as his tail was turned.
Then the stallion swung to stare at this puny and audacious rival and even at
that distance he could be seen to be dancing with rage, head down, teeth bared,
tail arched. He bellowed a challenge and began a long, long charge.

Rap
began to worry. He would rather face an angry bull than a mad stallion. At
first he let the horse come, for the confused herd had ended its milling and
begun to follow, but when Firedragon had covered about half the distance and
was showing no signs of second thoughts, Rap decided that he had better try to
do something. If he couldn’t, then herdman and minstrel would have to
beat a very fast retreat.

“Firedragon!”
he roared. “Cut that out! Go back! Back!”

Would
it work? The stallion was very responsive to Rap, usually. He held his breath.
Then the attack faltered. Firedragon veered away, bouncing and cavorting in
frustrated fury. In a few minutes he seemed to calm down, then went cantering
back to his herd. And apparently he had given up his attempt to sneak away over
the hill. The horses seethed around briefly, then slowly settled down to eating
once more. Bluebottle and Sunbeam had been watching with interest. Deciding
that the show was over, they, too, went back to cropping the summer grass.

Rap
rubbed his neck, for his throat felt raw. He sat down again to find Jalon
staring glassily, his lunch forgotten.

“Thirsty
work,” Rap said, uneasy at that wide blue gaze. “May I have another
sip of that wine, sir?”

“Have
the whole bottle!” Jalon continued to gape for a while, then added, “Why
do you bother shouting? You didn’t believe they could hear you at that
distance, surely?”

Rap
considered that question while he drank. Not understanding it, he decided to
ignore it. “Thank you.” He put down the bottle and resumed his
lunch.

After
a long silence the minstrel spoke, but in a whisper, although the hills were
empty of people as far as eye could see.

“Master
Rap, would you consider sharing?”

“Sharing
what, sir?”

Jalon
looked surprised. “Your secret. What lets you do that... and cross the
causeway when apparently no one else would even have tried. My singing is of
the same essence.”

Rap
wondered if soft brains were a necessary qualification for minstreling. He
could see no connection between singing and causeway crossing, and very little
resemblance to horse calling. This Jalon was a fine bard, but any man who let
his horse wander away from him unintentionally in this country had clearly lost
a few nails somewhere. Perhaps it went even farther than that. He might be a
total lunatic.

“I
call the horses’ names, sir. They all know me and they trust me. I admit
I wasn’t sure about calming the stallion... he does sort of like me, I
think. The causeway story must have been exaggerated. The tide was coming in,
but there was no danger.”

“So
you can call mares away from a stallion?” Jalon nodded ironically. “Of
course. You can journey where others can not. Kings are reprimanded for their
treatment of you? Princesses want you to hold their hands...” He suddenly
seemed depressed. “Is there anything I could ever possibly offer that
would persuade you to share with me? I have wider resources than are presently
apparent. “

“Sir?”
Rap could make no sense of the conversation at all.

The
minstrel shrugged. “Of course not! And why would you trust me? Would you
be so kind as to call Sunbeam? I have far to go before dark. “

Rap
hoped the man would not try to ride his horse until then. He would lame her for
certain. But that was not Rap’s affair. He called Sunbeam over and
adjusted her girths again and replaced the saddlebag. “I thank you for a
fine lunch, minstrel,” he said.

“May
the Gods go with you. “

Jalon
was still looking at him oddly. “Darad!” he said.

“Sir?”

“Darad,”
repeated the minstrel. “There is a man called Darad. Remember the name.
He is very dangerous and he will learn of you.”

“Thank
you for the warning, sir,” Rap said politely.

Not
just nails-the man was missing a few shoes, as well.

All
things include Both the Evil and the Good.

Inos
repeated that sacred text a hundred times, but she still could not find the
good in seasickness. It had to be totally evil. She desperately wanted to die.

The
cabin was cramped and loathsome. It was smelly and dirty and dark. It went up.
It went down. It rolled and it pitched. For two days she lay and suffered
abominably. Aunt Kade was infuriatingly immune to seasickness, and that fact
helped Inos no more than her aunt’s twittering attempts to cheer her up.

In
the beginning was nothing. She sought help in religion, there being no earthly
help in sight except hopefully a shipwreck and fast drowning. The Good parted
from the Evil and the Evil parted from the Good. Just as she had so promptly
parted from the mouthful of soup she had been persuaded to try. The world is
created in Their eternal conflict. Certainly there was an eternal conflict
going on inside Inos.

On
the third day she began to feel a little better.

At
times.

But
not for long.

The
slightest change in the motion of the ship and she was back in total evil
again.

But
there must be some trace of the Good in seasickness, for the sacred words said
so. Perhaps it was humility. Fat, twittery Aunt Kade was a far better sailor
than she was. Meditate on that. The God had said there were hard times in
store, but she had never dreamed that times could be so hard as these. Only we
have free will, only humankind can choose the Good and shun the Evil. What
choice had she ever made that had landed her in this? Only we, by finding the
greater good, can increase the total good and decrease the total evil in the
world.

Start
by abolishing seasickness.

Slowly
iife began to seem a possible option again. Slowly Inos started contemplating
her future in Kinvale. Her father had gone there once, as a young man. He had
promised that she would enjoy herself-year-round riding there, he had said, and
good parties. Even Jalon had spoken well of life in the Impire, although he did
not know Kinvale itself. Perhaps, she thought in her better moments, perhaps it
might be bearable. It was only for a year, after all.

On
the fourth morning, she awoke feeling ravenous. Aunt Kade was not in her bunk.
Throwing on thick wool sweater and slacks, Inos prepared to meet the world
again. Now she could accept that there was indeed a small good in
seasickness-it felt so marvelous when it stopped. Greatly comforted that her
religion had not been discredited, she headed for the deck.

She
was horrified. The world was a heaving grayness. There was no sky, no land,
only hilly green-gray water dying away into haze in all directions. The ship
had shrunk. It seemed so pathetically tiny and cramped, a little wooden box
under a cage of ropes and dirty canvas, riding up and down over those gray
hills. The wind was icy and cruel and tasted of salt... not even a seagull.

Two
sailors stood talking at the back of the ship, and there was no one else in
sight. She felt a stupid wave of panic rising and suppressed it. The rest of
them must be around somewhere, and Aunt Kade, also. She started toward the two
sailors, discovering that walking on a rocking ship was not as easy as she had
expected. The wind whipped her hair and made her eyes water, and she finally
reeled up to them, grabbed the rail they were leaning on, and blinked tears away.

The
tall one was holding the wheel and regarding her with interest displayed on
those parts of a craggy, weatherbeaten face not totally concealed by
silver-streaked whiskers. The other was extremely short, squat, and
unbelievable in pants and a huge fur jacket... bareheaded, filmy white hair
mussed beyond recognition by the wind, cheeks burning like bright red apples
and blue eyes shiny with happiness.

“Inos,
my dear! I am so glad to see you on your feet again.” Inos, looking
around in horror at the featureless desert of water, was beyond speech.

“You
will need a jacket, dear,” her aunt said. “The wind is quite
chilly. “

Chilly?
It was an ax.

Kade
beamed encouragingly. “We are making excellent time--North Claw in four
days, the master predicts. The air will be warmer when we reach Westerwater. “

Inos’
teeth began to chatter. “I think I need some breakfast. “ She
hugged her arms around herself. “Perhaps they would have something down
in the kitchen?”

“Galley,
dear. Yes. Of course you must be starved. Let us go and see, then.”

“No
need for you to come,” Inos said, “if you are enjoying yourself. “

“Of
course I must come.”

“Of
course?”

Aunt
Kade assumed her most prim expression. “This is not Krasnegar any more,
Inosolan. I am your chaperone and I must, look after you. “

A
terrible suspicion washed over Inos’s mind. “You mean that you don’t
let me out of your sight from now on?”

“That
is correct, dear. Now let us see if we can find you some breakfast. “

The
ship sailed on, but Inos’ heart sank... all the way to the bottom of the
Winter Ocean.

There
were worse things in store than seasickness.

Southward
dreams:

The
hills look over on the South,

And
Southward dreams the sea;

And
with the sea-breeze hand in hand,

Came
innocence and she.

Francis
Thompson, Daisy

Clear Call

“Why
doesn’t something happen?” Inos demanded in an urgent whisper.

“Why
should anything happen?” Aunt Kade replied.

Inos
ground her teeth quietly, glaring hatred at her embroidery. They were sitting
in the willow grove at Kinvale with many other ladies of quality, all sewing or
crocheting or merely chatting in the heavy sunshine. It was afternoon in late
summer and nothing was happening. Nothing, it seemed, ever happened at Kinvale.
Nothing was supposed to-that was the whole idea.

“Besides,”
her aunt continued placidly, “something did happen last night. You lost a
brooch.”

That
was a devastating and unwelcome truth, and an unusually pointed reproof from
Aunt Kade. Inos was being as difficult as possible, but her pleasure at having
punctured her aunt’s maddeningly constant good humor was spoiled in this
instance by the reminder of her own stupidity. Losing a dearly loved heirloom
did not compare with painting one tooth black and smiling excessively at
dinner.

Embroidery
was too intricate for Aunt Kade’s eyes. She was knitting some useless
garment that would undoubtedly be given away to a servant as soon as it was
finished. The process was important, the result was not. Inos was making a
horrible mess of stitching a nosegay pattern on the corner of a linen kerchief
and suffering acute agonies of frustration and boredom. She had been at Kinvale
for a month. She would be there for nine or ten more months yet and nothing
ever happened.