“How do you judge, my dear?”
Inos frowned. “Judge what?”
“Whom. How do you judge the candidates? Against Sir Andor?”
“Against Father.”
That could never be true. “Then you are comparing very young men in a difficult and unfamiliar setting against a mature king in his own kingdom. Is that fair?”
“Is it fair that I should have to judge at all?”
The situation was hopeless. Holindam had insisted that his daughter be allowed to choose, and obviously she would have the Andor man or no one, and the Andor man was not available. Maybe in another year or so, when she had grown up more and had time to forget that first awesome flash of romance . . . all of which was exactly what Kade had told Ekka half an hour ago.
She sighed and rose. “Just be grateful that you have the chance to judge at all, dear.”
“Is that a threat?” Inos was reaching for her anger.
“Of course not. I’m trying to give you a warning: Remember what your father said.”
The anger was held back, momentarily. “About what?”
“About war. If the Impire and Nordland went to war over Krasnegar . . . whichever side won, do you think you would be allowed to choose a husband then?”
But Inos had not forgotten the stakes. The Kinvale lacquer cracked to show the frightened child hiding under the ladylike decorum. “Ah, yes! What a pity Thane Kalkor is married! What a pity you and Ekka can’t invite him here, also, so you could parade me around in front of that one!”
Kade had no need to fake a shudder. “His manners would be the problem, dear, not his marriage. If he fancied you, then he’d just give his current wife to one of his churls and take you in her place. They do that all the time.”
7
Faint daylight was seeping through the chimney hole in the roof when Rap was jerked away by a snowy boot being wiped on his face. The nightmare figure of Darad was looming over him, swathed again in furs, with his gap-toothed leer somewhere near the ceiling.
Rap had found a tattered rug to wrap himself in and had even gained a place fairly close to the fire by the simple method of throwing some of the smaller boys out of the way. The older ones had found this action amusing and had not objected. They had allowed him to drink from their communal bucket, but he had still not been fed. His belly cramps came from hunger as well as the aftereffects of Little Chicken’s haymaker.
Woodsmoke from a single hearth, the rank stench of bodies and rancid grease, smelly rugs on a packed dirt floor-the boys’ but was a smaller version of the adults’. At the moment Rap was the only occupant. He had slept well and felt rather pleased at that.
“I came to say good-bye, Stupid.”
Rap lay and scowled up at Darad for a moment, gathering his wits. ”Good-bye.” What else was there to say?
The big man glowered. “This is your last chance, Stupid.”
He had said that the night before. “What’s my choice, then?”
Darad took a moment to answer, while frowning with the pain of thinking. ”Tell me your word and I’ll get you out of here.”
“Or what?”
“Or you get tested. Against Little Chicken.”
“What sort of test?” Rap made a quick scan with his farsight and discovered that the missing boys were all over in the big building, eating.
Darad had struggled through to a decision, and now he dropped to one knee, poking at Rap with a mitted hand the size of a small shovel. “They like lots of wives, see?”
Rap did not see, but he stayed silent.
“So they get rid of the weaklings, see?” Darad sorted out another thought and continued. “It’s their winter fun. When two boys are old enough, they test them. The winner gets his tattoos.”
“And the other dies?”
“Right!” Darad smiled at Rap’s brilliance.
“And I look like a pushover, so the chief’s son gets me?”
Darad nodded vigorously. “And you haven’t got a hope.”
“I haven’t got a word, either,” Rap said. “Tell me yours and I’ll get both of us out of here.”
Darad jumped up furiously. “You think I’m crazy? Give you half my word? You’re stupid.” He drew his foot back, and Rap hastily curled up, waiting for the kick.
But the giant merely laughed and stalked away, slamming the door. Relieved, Rap rearranged his furs against the cold air. Then he watched Darad’s departure.
Joyboy staggered when that huge carcass scrabbled up onto his back. He didn’t want to go, and the giant kicked him hard enough to bring tears to Rap’s eyes. Eventually Darad prevailed and rode off into the forest, leading Peppers.
He was heading south. Darad would have no interest in visiting Kinvale to warn Inos of her father’s illness. There would seem to be no reason why Andor should do so, either, were he to reappear in Darad’s place. But Inos must be told-which meant that Rap would have to escape and do it himself.
Stubborn, his mother had called him. Inos had, also, although usually she had preferred pigheaded. Well, if stubborn was what it was going to take, then stubborn he would be.
Rap sat up, wrapped himself in fur, and again scanned the big house. He had never felt hungrier, but somehow he was certain that he was not going to be fed. The boys must have crept out very quietly, deliberately not waking him—big joke! He was expected to run over and try to join them, so Little Chicken could have the satisfaction of making him beg, and then refusing. Rap decided he could stand the pangs a little longer, and postpone his captors’ satisfaction. If torture was what they had in mind, then they would not let him become too weak.
He began to puzzle again over the mystery of Andor and the monstrous Darad. What was Darad? Man or demon? Would a demon be as lean-witted as that? The minstrel Jalon had mentioned Darad, and Andor knew Jalon. They had all wanted his word . . .
Then something Darad had said finally registered. Revelation fell over Rap like grain from a burst sack.
Give you half my word?
That was why Andor had refused to share! When you shared a word you divided its power. If that was not so, then the words would be passed around like jokes—everyone would know words.
Pandemia would swarm with sorcerers. There had to be a reason why words were not freely shared; and that must be it—sharing reduced their power!
Andor had not mentioned that!
Nor had Jalon.
Nor had Sagorn.
The king had. “Remember to guard your secret,” he had said, thinking that Rap would understand.
Now he understood! Inspiration after inspiration flashed through his mind. Words were usually passed on deathbeds. Sagorn had said so, and Andor, also.
Two people sharing a word each got half the power. But the words had been passed down for generations. Obviously they did not lose half their power at every telling, or they would long since have disappeared completely. So! So—if two people shared, they each got half the power, but when one of the two died, the other had all of it again?
Right! That was certain.
Died—or was murdered.
That was why it was dangerous to know a word.
And why it would be even more dangerous to share one.
If Rap had possessed a word to share and had told that word to Andor, then Andor or his Darad-demon would have killed Rap at once, to gain the other half, also.
That was something else that Andor had not explained.
Demon lover:
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover.
— Coleridge, Kubla Khan
SIX
Forest weeping
1
Soon after Darad departed, the boys returned from their meal. Little Chicken beckoned Rap and led him out across the compound, barefoot and virtually naked. The air felt worse than ice water, freezing the tears that ran down Rap’s cheeks. Within seconds he was shaking uncontrollably; his toes and ears were numb: Little Chicken was wearing no more than he was, but he grinned at Rap’s discomfort and sauntered at a leisurely pace to show how little the cold bothered him. Their destination turned out to be a garbage tip at the back of the big house, where scraps were being dropped out through a flap. Fleabag and his pack were snuffling and growling as they scavenged among the remains. Anything worth eating was grabbed by the nearest dog, which then raced off to dine in private. Everything else was soon trampled and frozen to the ground.
Little Chicken made eating gestures and pointed.
Rap shook his head and turned away, but not before he had seen the gloating amusement-a man would eat anything when he was hungry enough. Tomorrow, or the day after, Rap would be at the garbage, disputing with the dogs for offal.