Holger stiffened. “I don’t know any Saracens,” he said. “I don’t know anyone here. I come from farther away than you understand.”
“May this be an enemy o’ yers, seeking ye oot to slay?” asked Hugi, interested. “Or a friend, e’en?”
“I tell you, I don’t know him!” Holger realized he had shouted. “Pardon me. I feel all at sea.”
Alianora widened her eyes. “All at sea? Oh, aye.” Her chuckle was a sweet sound. “A pretty phrase.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Holger recorded the fact for future use that the clichés of his world seemed to pass for new-coined wit here. But mostly he was busy thinking about the Saracen. Who the devil? The only Moslem he’d ever known had been that timid, bespectacled little Syrian at college. Under no circumstances would he have gone around in one of these lobster get-ups!
He, Holger, must have made off with the horse and equipment of a man who, coincidentally, resembled him. That could mean real trouble. No point in seeking out the Saracen warrior. Most certainly not.
A nihilistic mood of despair washed over him. “I’ll go to Faerie,” he said. “I don’t seem to have any other chance.”
“And a chancy place ’tis for mortals,” said Alianora gravely. She leaned forward. “Which side be ye on? Law or Chaos?”
Holger hesitated. “Ha’ no fear,” she urged. “I stand at peace wi’ most beings.”
“Law, I suppose,” he said slowly, “though I don’t know a thing of this wor—this land.”
“I thocht so,” said Alianora. “Well, I’m human too, and even if the minions o’ Law be often guzzling brutes, I think still I like their cause better than Chaos. So I’ll gang along wi’ ye. It may be I can give ye some help in the Middle World.”
Holger started to protest, but she raised a slender hand. “Nay, nay, speak no o’ it. ’Tis scant risk for me who can fly. And—” She laughed. “And it could be a richt merry adventure, methinks!”
Night was coming, with stars and dew. Holger spread his saddle blanket to sleep in, while Alianora went off saying she’d rather house in a tree. The man lay awake for a long time to watch the constellations. They were familiar, the late summer sky of northern Europe up there. But how far away was home? Or had distance any meaning?
He recalled that when Alianora changed into the human form, he had unthinkingly crossed himself. He’d never done so before in his life. Was it just the effect of this medieval environment, or part of the unconscious skills, language and riding and Lord knew what else, he had somehow gained? It was lonely, not even knowing yourself.
There were no mosquitoes here. For small blessings give praises. But he might have welcomed one, as a reminder of home.
Finally he slept.
5
THEY SET OUT in the morning, Holger and Hugi on Papillon. Alianora flew overhead as a swan, curving and soaring and vanishing behind the trees to reappear in an upward swoop. The man’s spirits rose with the sun. If nothing else, he was bound somewhere, and seemed to be in good company. By noon their eastward course brought them high in the hills, a rough windy land of scarred boulders, waterfalls and ravines, long harsh grass and gnarled copses. To Holger’s eye the horizon ahead looked darker than it should.
Hugi broke into hoarse bawdy song. To match him, Holger rendered such ballads as “The Highland Tinker” and “The Bastard King of England,” translating with an ease that surprised himself. The dwarf guffawed. Holger had begun “Les Trois Orfevres” when a shadow fell on him and he looked up to see the swan circling above, listening with interest. He choked.
“Eigh, do go on,” urged Hugi. “’Tis a rare bouncy song.”
“I’ve forgotten the rest,” said Holger weakly.
He dreaded facing Alianora when they stopped for lunch. That was by a thicket which shielded a cave mouth. The girl came lightly toward him in human form. “Ye’ve a tuneful way wi’ ye, Sir Holger,” she smiled.
“Ummmm… thank you,” he mumbled.
“I would ye could recollect wha’ happened to the three goldsmiths,“ she said. “’ Twas rude o’ ye to leave them there on the rooftop.”