“Ummm—” That didn’t sound so good. “What happened to this Sir Magnus?” asked Holger.
“Oh, at the last, crocodiles ate him, methinks.”
They rode on in silence. Eventually Holger asked what a woods dwarf did. Hugi said his people lived in the forest—which seemed of enormous extent—off mushrooms and nuts and such, and had a working arrangement with the lesser animals like rabbits and squirrels. They had no inherent magical powers, such as the true Faerie dwellers did, but on the other hand they had no fear of iron or silver or holy symbols.
“We’ll ha’ naught to do wi’ the wars in this uneasy land,” said Hugi. “We’ll bide our ain lives and let Heaven, Hell, Earth, and the Middle World fight it oot as they will. And when you proud lairds ha’ laid each the other oot, stiff and stark, we’ll still be here. A pox on ’em all!” Holger got the impression that this race resented the snubs they had from men and Middle Worlders alike.
He said hesitantly, “Now you’ve made me unsure. If Mother Gerd means no good, why should I follow her advice and go to Faerie?”
“Why, indeed?” shrugged Hugi. “Only mind, I didna say she was always evil. If she bears ye no grudge, she micht well ha’ ta’en the whim to aid ye in truth. E’en Duke Alfric may help, just for the fun in such a new riddle as ye seem to offer. Ye canna tell wha’ the Faerie folk will do next. They canna tell theirselves, nor care. They live in wildness, which is why they be o’ the dark Chaos side in this war.”
That didn’t help a bit. Faerie was the only hope he had been given of returning home, and yet he might have been directed into a trap. Though why anyone should bother to trap a penniless foreigner like himself—
“Hugi,” he asked, “would you willingly lead me into trouble?”
“Nay, seeing ye’re no foe o’ mine, indeed a good sort, no like some I could name.” The dwarf spat. “I dinna know what Mother Gerd has in mind, nor care I overmuch. I’ve told ye what I do know. If ye still want to gang Faeriewards, I’ll guide ye.”
“And what happens then is no concern of yours, eh?”
“Richt. The wee uns learn to mind their ain affairs.”
Bitterness edged the foghorn bass. Holger reflected that it might be turned to his own ends. He wasn’t altogether a stranger to people with overcompensated inferiority complexes. And surely Hugi could give more help than simply guiding him into he knew not what.
“I’m thirsty,” he said. “Shall we stop for a short snort?”
“A short what?” Hugi wrinkled his leathery face.
“Snort. You know, a drink.”
“Snort… drink… Haw, haw, haw!” Hugi slapped his thigh. “A guid twist, ’tis. A short snort. I maun remember ’t, to use i’ the woodsy burrows. A short snort!”
“Well, how about it? I thought I heard something clink in that bundle of food.”
Hugi smacked his lips. They reined in and untied the witch’s gift. Yes, a couple of clay flasks. Holger unstoppered one and offered Hugi the first pull, which surprised the dwarf. But he took good advantage of it, his Adam’s apple fluttering blissfully under the snowy beard, till he belched and handed the bottle over.
He seemed puzzled when they rode on. “Ye’ve unco manners, Sir Holger,” he said. “Ye canna be a knicht o’ the Empire, nor e’en a Saracen.”
“No,” said Holger. “I’m from rather farther away. Where I come from, we reckon one man as good as the next.”
The beady eyes regarded him closely from beneath shaggy brows. “An eldritch notion,” said Hugi. “Hoo’ll ye steer the realm if commons may sup wi’ the gentle?”
“We manage. Everybody has a voice in the government.”
“But that canna be! ’Tis but ane babble then, and naught done.”
“We tried the other way for a long time, but leaders born were so often weak, foolish, or cruel that we thought we could hardly be worse off. Nowadays in my country the king does little more than preside. Most nations have done away with kings altogether.”