“It must be that they lack manpower,” Simon half questioned, his mind busy with the possibilities that suggested.
“Which may be true. Or for some other reason they cannot or will not face us openly themselves. We know so little concerning the Kolder, even when they squat before our door. Now they are buying men.”
“But slaves are chancy as fighting men,” Simon pointed out. “Put weapons in their hands and you ask for revolt.”
“Simon, Simon, have you forgotten what manner of men we flushed from ambush on the sea road? Ask yourself if they were ready for revolt. No, those who march to Kolder war drums have no will left in them. But this much is also true: for the past six months galleys have come to an island lying off the sea-mouth of Kars’ river and prisoners from Karsten are transferred to those ships. Some are from the prisons of the Duke, other men are swept up on the streets and docks, friendless men, or ones not to be missed.
“Such dealings cannot be kept secret forever. A whisper here, a sentence there—piece by piece we have gathered it. Men sold to the Kolder for Kolder purposes. And if thus it happens in Karsten, why not in Alizon? Now I can better understand why my mission there failed and how I was so speedily uncovered. If the Kolder have certain powers—as we believe that they do—they could stalk me or any such as me, as the hounds hunted us by scent on the moors.
“It is our belief now that the Kolder on Gorm are gathering a force to the purpose of invading the mainland. Perhaps on that day Karsten and Alizon shall both discover that they provided the weapons for their own defeat. That is why I deal with Aldis, we must know more of this filthy traffic with Gorm and it could not exist without the Duke’s knowledge and consent.”
Koris stirred restlessly. “Soldiers gossip also, lady. A round of wine shops made by a blank shield with tokens in his purse might bring us tidings in plenty.”
She looked dubious. “Yvian is far from stupid. He has his eyes and ears everywhere. Let one such as you appear in the wine shops you mention,Captain, and he shall hear of it.”
Koris did not appear worried. “Did not Koris of Gorm, a mercenary, lose his men and his reputation at Sulcarkeep? Doubt not that I shall have a good story to blat out if any should ask it of me. You,” he nodded to Simon, “had best lie close lest the tale we told to get through the gates trips us up. But how about the youngling here?” He grinned at Briant.
Somewhat to Simon’s surprise the generally sober-faced youth smiled back timidly. Then he looked to the witch as if for permission. And, equally to Simon’s astonishment, she gave it, with some of the same mischief she had shown earlier.
“Briant is no ruffler of the barracks, Koris. But he has been prisoned here long enough. And don’t under-rate his sword arm; I’ll warrant he can and will amaze you—in several ways!”
Koris laughed. “That I do not doubt at all, lady, seeing that it is you who says it.” He reached for the ax by his chair.
“You’d best leave that pretty toy here,” she warned. “It, at least, will be remarked.” She laid her hand on the shaft.
It was as if her fingers were frozen there. And for the first time since their arrival Simon saw her shaken out of her calm.
“What do you carry, Koris?” her voice was a little shrill.
“Do you not know, lady? It came to me with the good will of one who made it sing. And I guard it with my life.”
She snatched back her hand as if that touch had seared flesh and bone.
“Willingly it came?”
Koris fired to that doubt. “About such a matter I would speak only the truth. To me it came and only me will it serve.”
“Then more than ever do I say take it not into the streets of Kars.” That was half order, haif plea.
“Show me then a safe place in which to set it,” he countered, with openly displayed unwillingness.
She thought a moment, her finger rubbing at her lower lip.”So be it. But later you must give me the full tale, Captain. Bring it hither and I shall show you the safest place in this house.”
Simon and Briant trailed after them into another room where the walls were hung with strips of a tapestry so ancient that only the vaguest hints of the original designs could be surmised. One of these she bypassed to come to a length of carved wall panel on which fabulous beasts leered and snarled in high relief. She pulled at this, to display a cupboard and Koris set the ax far to its back.
Just as Simon had been aware of the past centuries within Estcarp city, solid waves of time beating against a man with all the pressure of ages, as he had also known awe for the non-human in the Hole where Volt had held silent court for dust and shadows, so here there was also a kind of radiation from the walls, a tangible something in the air which made his skin creep.
Yet Koris was brisk about the business of storing his treasure and the witch shut the cupboard as might a housewife upon a broom. Briant had lingered in the doorway, his usual impassive self. Why did Simon feel this way? And he was so plagued by that that he stayed when the others left, making himself walk slowly to the center of the chamber.
There were only two pieces of furniture. One a highbacked chair of black wood which might have come from an audience hall. Facing it was a stool of the same somber coloring. And on the floor between the two an odd collection of articles Simon studied as if trying to find in them the solution to his riddle.
First there was a small clay brazier in which might burn a palm load of coals, no more. It stood on a length of board, polished smooth. And with it was an earthen bowl containing some gray-white meal, that was flanked by a squat bottle. Two seats and that strange collection of objects—yet there was something else here also.
He did not hear the witch’s return and was startled out of his thoughts when she spoke.
“What are you, Simon?”
His eyes met hers.”You know. I told you the truth at Estcarp. And you must have your own ways of testing for falsehood.”
“We have, and you spoke the truth. Yet I must ask you again, Simon—what are you? On the sea road you felt out that ambush before the Power warned me. Yet you are a man!” For the first time her self-possession was shaken. “You know what is done here—you feel it!”
“No. I only know that there is something here that I can not see—yet it exists.” He gave her the truth once again.
“That is it!” She beat her fists together. “You should not feel such things, and yet you do! I play a part here. I do not always use the Power, that is, greater power than my own experience in reading men and women, in guessing shrewdly what lies within their hearts or are their desires. Three quarters of my gift is illusion; you have seen that at work. I summon no demons, toll nothing here from another world by my spells, which are said mainly to work upon the minds of those who watch for wonders. Yet there is the Power and sometimes it comes to my call. Then I can work what are indeed wonders. I can smell out disaster, though I may not always know what form it will take. So much can I do—and that much is real! I swear to it by my life!”
“That I believe,” Simon returned. “For in my world, too, there were things which could not be explained with any sober logic.”
“And you had your women to do such things?”
“No, it came to either sex there. I have had men under my command who had foreknowledge of disaster, of death, their own or others’. Also I have known houses, old places, in which something lurked which was not good to think about, something which could not be seen or felt any more than we can now see or feel what is with us here.”
She watched him now with undisguised wonder. Then her hand moved in the air, sketching between them some sign. And that blazed for an instant in fire hanging in space.
“You saw that?” Was that an accusation or triumphant recognition? He did not have time to discover which, for, sounding through the house was the note of a gong.