The Skrayling Tree (28 page)

There was some dispute among us as to whether we should make the quick march at all or keep to our present pace, so that we
remained together. Klosterheim spoke of the gathering winter. It was becoming noticeably colder by the day. We were marching
north. Normally, both Pukawatchi and Vikings reserved raiding expeditions for the spring. Winter made movement almost impossible.
Ice would form on the rivers soon, and they would not be able to use the canoes.

So we called a further conference. Eventually it was decided that the two Ashanti, Asolingas and the Bomendando, who were
our fastest runners, together with a Pukawatchi called Nagatche, would go ahead for a few miles to get the lie of the land.
Then we could make a better-informed decision.

The three runners set off as the evening sky grew black overhead. An east wind began to blow steadily, biting through layers
of clothing. I felt the lash of sleet against my cheeks.

Night fell. Ipkaptam, Klosterheim, Earl Gunnar and I again conferred around an uncertain fire in a small temporary lodge.
Ipkaptam believed that the season was coming unusually early. He would have expected another month before the snows arrived.
Again he spoke anxiously about offending the winds. It would be best to reach the water as soon as possible. With snow, our
journey to Kakatanawa would be far more difficult. With ice it might be impossible, and we would have to wait until
the next year. He turned to Klosterheim for suggestions. Were there any other magical allies he could summon? Was there some
way to placate the wind so that it blew the snow away from them? What if he were to offer the Snow Wind his most valuable
possessions? His children’s lives?

Klosterheim pointed out in Greek that most of his powers were already being used to sustain his supernatural ally Lord Shoashooan
threatening our enemies. He had only been able to summon the demon in the first place because of the strange nature of this
realm’s semisentient winds, which Ipkaptam had already remarked on. It was even possible that Lord Shoashooan was drawing
the bad weather to them. But if White Crow was allowed to take the Black Lance back to Kakatanawa, then the Pukawatchi would
never defeat their ancient enemies, never redeem their honor. As for summoning powerful spirits, that was now entirely beyond
him. With all his experience of the supernatural, he had never been able to control two such forces. Gunnar mumbled something
about having made too many bargains already and said he was thinking on the problem. I—whose powers were virtually nonexistent
here, but needed fewer drugs and sorcery to survive—was equally helpless.

“Then we must do our best with our natural brains,” said Klosterheim with some humor.

The next morning one of the Ashanti returned. The Bomendando was glad of the camp. He stood by the fire shivering, his lanky
body wrapped in a buffalo robe. He was uneasy and seemed frightened. He said he had left
the other two guarding their find while he came to tell us what it was. They also would return if it became too dangerous.
They had remained in case they should catch a glimpse of what they guessed was occupying the hills.

I had never seen such a disturbed look on the Bomendando’s face. Clearly, he thought he might not be believed.

“Come on, man,” demanded Gunnar, reaching a threatening hand toward him. “What have you seen out there?”

“It’s a footprint,” said the Bomendando. “A footprint.”

“So there are other men here. How many?”

“This was not a man’s footprint.” The Bomendando shivered. “It was fresh, and we found others, fainter, when we looked. It
is the footprint of a giant. We are in the realm of the giants, Earl Gunnar. This was not part of our agreement. You told
us nothing of giants, nothing of the Stone Men. You spoke only of a poorly defended city. You said how the giants had been
driven from this land by men and half-lings. You said giants were forbidden to go outside their city. Why did you not tell
us of these other giants? These roaming giants?”

“Giants!” Gunnar was contemptuous. “A trick of the eye. The track had spread, that was all. I’ve heard tales of giants all
my life and have yet to see one.”

But the Bomendando shook his head. He held out his spear. With his hand he measured off another half-length again. “It was
that wide and more than twice as long. A giant.”

Ipkaptam became agitated. “They are not supposed to leave their city. They cannot leave it. They are
forbidden. The giants have always guarded what they are sworn to guard. If they left, the world would end. It must have been
a human you saw.”

The Ashanti was adamant, tired of talk. “There is a giant out there, in those hills,” he said. “And where there is one giant,
there are often others.”

There came a shout from the margins of the camp. Warriors ran towards us, pointing over their shoulders.

In the slanting sleet I saw a figure emerging. He was indeed very tall and broad. My head would scarcely have reached his
chest, but he was a third the size of any giants I had previously encountered.

He was dressed in a heavy black coat, covered by a fur-lined cloak. On his head was an oddly shaped hat, its brim turned up
at three corners, sporting a couple of plumes. His white hair was tied back with a loose, black bow.

I heard Klosterheim curse behind me.

“Is that our giant?” I asked.

Ipkaptam was shaking his head. “That’s no giant,” he said. “That’s a human.”

The newcomer took off his hat by way of a peace sign. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, “my name is Lobkowitz. I was traveling
in these parts and seem to have lost my way. Is there any chance, do you think, that I could warm my bones a little at your
fire?”

He loomed over us, almost as tall as our tepees. I felt like a ten-year-old boy in the presence of a very burly man.

Klosterheim came forward and bowed. “Good evening, Prince Lobkowitz,” he said. “I had not expected to see you here.”

“It’s a turning multiverse, my dear captain.” The broad-faced, genial nobleman peered hard at Klosterheim. He frowned in apparent
surprise. “Forgive me if I seem rude,” he said, “but is it my impression, sir, or have you shrunk a foot or two since last
we met?”

But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,

They the envious Little People,

They the fairies and the pygmies,

Plotted and conspired against him.

“If this hateful Kwasind,” said they

“If this great, outrageous fellow

Goes on thus a little longer,

Tearing everything he touches,

Rending everything to pieces,

Filling all the world with wonder,

What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies?

Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies,

He will tread us down like mushrooms,

Drive us all into the water,

Give our bodies to be eaten,

By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs,

By the Spirits of the Water!”

L
ONGFELLOW
,

“The Song of Hiawatha”

K
losterheim and Lobkowitz had been acquainted in Christendom. They were not friends. Klosterheim was deeply suspicious of every
word the newcomer uttered. Lobkowitz, while more affable, seemed equally wary of Klosterheim. Gunnar said something about
two peoples forever at odds. He believed the races must be natural enemies.

As Prince Lobkowitz stood with his back to our fire, Gunnar asked him what brought him to the region.

“Very little, sir. My business was with another party, but you know how it is, this close to a node on the great tree of time.
Although it makes travel between the worlds a little easier, it also makes it confusing. Variances of scale, which would be
so vast as to be unnoticed elsewhere, are not so great here. The closer to where worlds connect, the less we are, as it were,
divided. We do our best, sir; but the Balance must be served, and the Balance determines everything in the end, eh?” The huge
fellow had a rather quiet manner. It seemed odd to find delicacy in one of his size.

His apparent diffidence put a swagger into Gunnar the Doomed. He was the only one of us to be amused. “My men described your
footprint. To hear them talk you were at least ten feet tall, though I must admit you’re the biggest human being I’ve ever
met. You’re even bigger than Angris the Frank, and he is still a legend. Are they all your size where you come from?”

“Pretty much,” said Prince Lobkowitz. Gunnar did not miss the sardonic tone. His faceless helm turned to
regard the huge man with some curiosity. I, too, felt I was missing what might have been a joke.

The sleet continued to fall. It was not settling as snow. Ipkaptam decided it was too warm for bad snow, that what we had
was no more than an autumn squall. In a couple of days it might even seem like summer again. He had experienced the phenomenon
many times.

Now that we thought Lobkowitz was our giant, Ipkaptam was far more at ease. It was decided we would indeed send the main warriors
ahead at a rapid trot while I would bring up the rear. Prince Lobkowitz, who knew the terrain no better than I did, elected
to stay behind with us. “At least until it becomes possible to rejoin my party!”

While the prince went off to relieve himself, I was warned secretly by Gunnar to keep an eye on Lobkowitz and to kill him
if he acted at all suspiciously. Klosterheim was especially uneasy. He said that the man was not necessarily malign but that
his presence suggested there were other, possibly dangerous, elements involved in this adventure.

I asked him to be more specific. What did he know about Lobkowitz? Had the newcomer followed us here? Was he in league with
the Kakatanawa?

“He has no more right to enter the Kakatanawa stronghold than I,” said Klosterheim. “But he has friends who also seek what
I seek and what Gunnar seeks. I believe he shares a mutual interest. It will do no harm to make an ally of him now. It’s best
he’s kept in the rear, at least until we know what we are facing. He might be a spy, for instance, sent to learn our secrets.
If not, we could use someone of his size.”

Gunnar was unhappy. “There are too many unknown elements in this. My idea was to come here, take what I needed, and leave.
I had not expected Klosterheim, the Pukawatchi—nor giants …”

“That man is not a giant,” insisted Ipkaptam. “He is human. You would know if he was a giant.”

With a scowl, Klosterheim agreed. ‘This is a strange area of the multiverse,” he confirmed. “It is, as Lobkowitz says, a node.
Where the branch joins the tree, eh? Usually we are too far away from a node to experience this phenomenon, but here I would
guess it is common.”

I accepted this oddness was familiar to them and trusted their judgment. Only Gunnar continued to be ill at ease. He kept
muttering about superstition and repeating what was clearly a simplification if not a lie—that he was here for one reason
only, and he had promised his fighters the loot of the City of Gold.

Ipkaptam signaled for Gunnar, Klosterheim and the others to follow and set off at a lope. The main war party fell in behind
him, and all were soon lost in the mists of the deep valleys. I was glad to keep a slower pace. It gave me a chance to speak
to the gigantic man, to ask him how he had found himself here. He said he was traveling with a friend and they had become
separated. The next thing he knew, he said, he spotted our camp. His friend was clearly nowhere in the area.

“And is this friend similar in size to you?” I asked.

Prince Lobkowitz sighed. “These are not my natural surroundings, Prince Elric, any more than they are yours.”

I agreed with some feeling that they were not mine. If I discovered I was on a wild-goose chase, then Gunnar
should pay with interest for all my wasted hours. While I had once sought the seclusion and isolation of the countryside,
nowadays I again preferred the alleys, the noisy streets and crowded public places of urban life. Nonetheless, events had
curious resonances, I said. It made me think that perhaps this adventure had parallels with a life I could not quite remember.

As Ipkaptam predicted, the snow held off and the sleet continued to fall. The Pukawatchi boys and women were not loquacious.
Lobkowitz and I were thrown together as a result. He was oddly closemouthed on some subjects, and when I accused him, half
joking, of talking like an oracle, he laughed loudly. “I think that’s because I am talking like an oracle,” he said.

He explained that this age was not his own. He was something of an interloper. But this realm, or one like it, was similar
to his own past. As he was sure I understood, he did not dare inadvertently reveal anything of the future, yet he was constantly
tempted to use his knowledge.

It was the reason, he said, for prophecies and omens to be so obscure. A directly related account of coming events automatically
changed those events. Knowledge of them meant that some could act to avoid what they disliked. This not only made prophecy
dangerous, it added to the multiplicity of the worlds. A few ill-judged words could create branch after branch of additional
alternatives. It served no general purpose, he said. Few such branches survived for long.

I remembered the Stone Giants and their meaningless prophecies, but I said nothing to Lobkowitz, even though we were together,
tending to walk behind the
main party, following tracks the Pukawatchi and Vikings had made.

Then as we began to approach the foothills of the mountains, the sleet changed to snow. By the following morning it had settled
and the sky had cleared. It was a blue day. Snow lay before us all the way to the mountains, and tracks were rare. Where a
buffalo had passed, you could see immediately. Also hare and birds had used the land ahead, but of the Pukawatchi trail there
was nothing.

Prince Lobkowitz seemed both amused by and sympathetic to this turn of events. He suggested that with his extra height he
could go on ahead and see if he could find the Pukawatchi camp. Not entirely trusting him I said that we could travel together.
That way I could stand on his shoulders, perhaps, and get a longer view. Thus we could make the best use of each other’s relative
size.