THE YNGLING AND THE CIRCLE OF POWER by John Dalmas

FORTY

Fann dom då den stilla kjämpen,

hal av svett å omedveten,

där han låg ne’en döjda trollen.

Dröd ham fri och bar ham hemåt

till den danska kongens fäste.

Lämte hos en danske läk’re,

Rådjiver han kails i landen,

Rådjiver den mäkti sajkarl,

å sin dotter, sjöna Signe.

Vårde de den unga jälten.

[There they found the limp young warrior,

slick with sweat and lying senseless,

‘neath the sea troll where he’d killed it.

Drew him free and bore him homeward

to the castle of King Jørgen.

Left him with a Danish healer,

Raadgiver the people called him,

Raadgiver, the mighty wizard,

and his lovely daughter, Signe.

Tended they the youthful hero.]

From—The Jdrnhann Saga,

Kumalo translation

286

287

Nikko Kumalo’s interview of Anders Henrikssen, Raad­giver, hadn’t taken long—little more than two hours. She had interviewed him before, more than once. This return was only to explore questions that had come up about the Psi Alliance in her interviews with others since then. When the interview was over, the Dane had taken them to see Ingrid, his granddaughter, a calm, mature-seem­ing, beautiful child of three years, her hair almost cotton white. Remembering them, the child put aside her doll and advanced with her hand extended, as if she were royalty and they were to kiss it. Which in fact Matthew did, inspiring giggles.

They’d met the mother before, too, and had thought her retiring and aloof. Signe Andersdatter was a hand­some young woman, with long black hair that made her fair skin seem milk white by contrast, and her ice-blue eyes more striking. She’d be beautiful, Matthew decided, if it weren’t for her coldness, and hauteur which, if not obtrusive, was nonetheless plain to see.

It seemed to Matthew that he could see passion there, too, a repressed passion generated by some resentment, some injustice. And it embarrassed him to notice, be­cause Raadgiver was a telepath who would know his thoughts. He suspected that the daughter did too, for she colored slightly, and taking Ingrid by the hand, left the room with a thin goodbye.

Then Matthew suggested that he and Nikko should leave, if she had no further questions for their host. She didn’t, and Raadgiver accompanied them from his apart­ment, down a stone staircase and into the flagstoned courtyard. Weeds grew between the flags, grasshoppers chewed on the weeds, and chickens preyed on the grass­hoppers. Two red hens flapped out of the humans’ way.

Tour daughter is a lovely woman,” Nikko said, “and your granddaughter is charming.”

Raadgiver smiled wryly. “I love them both. I only wish Signe had had a mother to bring her up, and Ingrid a father in the home.” It seemed the older man needed to

288

confide in someone, and Nikko was a professional lis­tener. “I made no effort to remarry when my wife died bearing Signe,” he went on. “I realized later that I should have. In fact the old duke—the king’s father—urged me to. But it seemed to me then that it would complicate my life. Astrid had been just right for me, and I believed that I wouldn’t be happy with anyone else.

“I was selfish.”

They crossed the drawbridge, the moat beneath it late-summer thick with algae clouds and shingled with pond lilies. Frogs chirked and croaked.

“And Ingrid’s father is away a lot?” Matthew asked.

“Ingrid’s father is Nils Järnhann. Her blondness comes from him.”

Raadgiver’s answer shut up both Kumalos. The Dane continued; his unasked for comments had led to their embarrassment, and he would not leave them thus.

“Signe resented from childhood that I was a servant of the duke. She considered that with my intelligence, and even more with my psi, I should be ruler. But the Psi Alliance shuns authority, for good reasons. In a world like ours, or at least in our part of it, we must conceal, camouflage our abilities. And to rule in a violent world, let alone to gain a throne, takes talents quite different from mine. Later, when she recognized these things, it made it worse for her instead of better.

“When Nils showed up, she scorned him. She still scorns him, because the Svear are barbarians. She con­siders us far superior—refined, civilized, knowledgeable about history . . . And when we realized that his talents were greater than ours, that added to her resentment. Especially she resented his tranquility; when she insulted him, he took no offense.