Dog and Dragon-ARC (34 page)

Fionn snatched the spear, and snapped it like a carrot. Tossed the guard forty yards across the courtyard. Picked up Díleas, and turned on Earl Alois as other men-at-arms came running. “First you try to kill my lady, then your men try and kill her dog,” he said. “Can you give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t pull both your arms off and beat you with them?” Something about the way he said it told the earl and the running men-at-arms that he was not joking—that, perhaps, and the snapped spear in one hand, and the groaning man-at-arms trying to sit up on the far side of the courtyard.

“Don’t you dare hurt my father.” The boy had himself between Fionn and the earl. Fists up.

“That’s one good reason,” said Fionn.

“He’s a good earl, he rules well,” said his wife.

“That’s a good reason for someone else.” There were men with weapons in hand surrounding the doorway.

“Hold,” said the earl to his haerthmen.

Fionn dropped the broken spear and reached out and calmly plucked the sword from the nearest man, without letting go of Díleas. It was not hard steel—these cultures hadn’t developed that yet, so, only cheating a little, Fionn bent it double…and handed it back to the man-at-arms. He was showing off and knew it. But he was also hammering home the fact that his Scrap had powerful friends. “Hold that up so that your comrades can see exactly what I am going to make them sit on if I see one outside its scabbard in either my presence or my mistress’s presence. Ever.”

“Hrf!” said Díleas.

“Or the dog,” said Fionn, his sense of humor reasserting itself. “Now go away. We’re talking at the moment. I will call you if I want to fight.”

It said a great deal for the earl and his men that most of them did not melt away. Not more than half had their swords back in their scabbards.

“Sheathe your weapons,” the earl shouted. “Owain. Go to the kitchens and see if you can find a mutton bone for the dog.”

The boy stood, hands on his hips. “You won’t hurt my father.” It was an ultimatum rather than a question.

“Certainly not while you’re fetching a bone for Díleas,” said Fionn. “And it’ll improve things for him if you bring back a bowl of water for the dog, too.”

“Owain,” said his mother, in a tone that plainly brooked no argument. “Go. And tell Osric I said to bring food and beer, too.”

“A woman of good sense,” said Fionn. “A lot more sense than you, Earl Alois.”

“I made a mistake. I am willing to pay for it. But not at the expense of my family. My wife and son and daughters had no part in it. I didn’t know who she was. If I had, I would have been the first to bend my knee.”

“The second part of that will do as the second acceptable reason,” said Fionn.

The woman holding onto him said: “And I love him and I…don’t want him to sacrifice himself for me or our children. I want Owain to have a father, spriggan lord.”

Spriggan? They thought he was a spriggan. That was almost enough to make Fionn start laughing aloud. But he was not yet ready to consider letting them off the hook.

“Hmm. That’s a fairly good reason, too. Meb values loyalty and love. Now, why don’t you tell me the story from your point of view, and I’ll see if they’re good enough reasons.”

The boy returned, spilling water on the flagstones, with a shoulder of lamb, still with the meat on. “My father is worth more than a mutton bone,” he said defiantly, partly to Fionn and partly to his parents.

Fionn set Díleas down and the dog walked over to the boy, waving his tail and looking hopeful. Meat was a powerful attractant. “Díleas is worth more than all the sheep in Lyonesse to his mistress. I am not joking. And one of your fool men tried to stick a spear into him.”

“I was in too much of a hurry to use my sword too,” said Earl Alois quietly. He told how he had conspired with some of the court to remove the regent.

“Why?” asked Fionn.

“Because the constant Changes were destroying us here in South Lyonesse,” said the earl. “We’d deal with one foe by force of arms…and they’d get rid of their problem by changing the Ways. We can’t…couldn’t go on like that. Medraut wanted to keep the regency. He wanted the power for power’s sake. We’d come so close. Lord Isadore had been killed when we dealt with the door warden. It was just me left, and nothing between me and Prince Medraut. And then…there she was. I couldn’t risk her waking the castle…one woman’s life against the future of Lyonesse. To be honest with you, Sir Spriggan, she looked like some…drab.”

“Appearances can be deceptive,” said Fionn. “He looks just like a black sheepdog. But he isn’t.”

“Is he also something magic?” asked the boy.

“No. Well, only in a manner of speaking. But he’s black and white. I had to dye his hair.”

At this point someone knocked on the door. “Food and ale, my lady,” said a voice from outside.

“Good,” said Fionn. “Listening to people tell me how noble their motives are always makes me hungry. It’s that or be queasy.”

Díleas growled at the man bearing the large tray. A nasty deep throbbing growl.

“Yes, Díleas. I see he’s got an axe under the tray. No doubt to cut the cheese.”

The man nearly dropped the tray.

“You fool, Gwalach!” said the earl, in the voice of a man much tried. “Put it down. We are trying to negotiate a peace here, help for the Southern Marches. And all my men seem to be doing is repeating my errors. My apologies, Sir Spriggan. My second-in-command. He’s loyal.”

“I thought I might help, Earl Alois,” said the man.

“We need their help, not yours! Abalach knights and the troops of Cantre’r Gwaelod both approach. And so far we seem to be doing everything wrong. Yes, Sir Spriggan. There is a time to be honest. I had hoped to seize the regency. I hoped that my son might be king one day, if we found the anointing bowl. I have always suspected that it was the Mage Aberinn who stole it, not this imaginary enchantress of Shadow Hall who he blamed.”

“Oh she’s real enough,” said Fionn. “And behind many of the troubles you’ve had too. She is Queen Gwenhwyfach, your last queen, I believe. But hopefully we put a stop to her meddling.”

“Queen Gwenhwyfach?” The earl shook his head. “No, Sir Spriggan, she fell from the sea-window with the son and heir and was drowned.”

“They never found the body of either, Alois,” said his wife.

“But…but she was from Clan Carfon. She would have been my great-aunt,” said Alois.

“I bet she never sent you birthday presents,” said Fionn wryly. “This may be a bit too complicated for you, Earl Alois, but the young woman you nearly killed would be your cousin, the queen’s daughter, out of that murky past. And now to the matter of these problems you have with the various invaders…”

The earl’s eyes were half closed, as he interrupted:

Till from the dark past, Defender comes,

and forests walk, the rocks talk,

till the mountain bows to the sea,

Till the window returns to the sea-wall of great Dun Tagoll,

beware, prince, beware, Mage Aberinn, mage need.

For only she can hold the sons of Dragon,

Or Lyonesse will be shredded and broken and burned.

Only she can banish the shades,

and find the bowl of kings.

Mage need, mage need.

“If it’s supposed to be poetry, it doesn’t scan or rhyme properly,” said Fionn, disapprovingly. He had strong ideas on poetry. It was powerful stuff, not wise left unshackled by verse.

“It is the prophecy Mage Aberinn made,” said the earl. “Is it not known among the fay? She does come from the dark past! I saw her restore the window to Dun Tagoll. And they say the forests walked to Dun Calathar, and the rocks shouted, and the army and the giant of Ys were destroyed.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Fionn, “she got the sea to destroy the fleet from Vanar. And you might say it’s thanks to her the mountain has bowed to the sea.”

“We walk in the new age of magics. When the fay return and the land is restored,” said Alois wonderingly.

“And you nearly killed your new age,” said Fionn, “in which case, I would have killed you, but over several millennia. Fortunately for you, you failed.”

“She is the Defender. She will return our true king to us. And we need her, to fend off the sons of the dragon.”

“Yes,” said Fionn, dryly. “Only she can hold them.”

“I…we, the South need to make our submission. We need her help now, and it seems we will need her even more,” said the earl. “So. Do your worst, Sir Spriggan. My head if need be. But the South and my family need her.”

“I think we can spare you your head. For now,” said Fionn, taking a horn of ale. “I think the right answer is a suitable hostage to your ambitions. To stop you acting quickly and then telling us you regret it later.”

The earl was a quick thinker. “No! Not my son!”

“I’ll offer the same guarantees you offered me,” said Fionn. “Your men assured me that no harm would come to me. Even if some of them carry axes under trays.”

“Alois,” said his wife. “I’ll go. I’ll go with Owain if need be. We have to trust him. We have to make her trust us.”

“But he’s my son. I can’t.”

“Alois, look how he looks after the dog. He’s…not evil. And you know…you said to me yourself, the Southern Marches can’t hold. Not against both of those armies. Not even one of them. Then Owain, Elana, and little Selene will die or be enslaved. We need her. And there is worse to come, the prophecy says. Only she can hold the sons of the Dragon.”

The dragon said nothing. His experience with prophecies is that they were generally very profitable for the prophets, and only accidentally accurate. But he was withholding judgement on this one.

“But…but it’s dangerous. She’s somewhere in the north. There are bandits, deserters, pieces of armies.”

“Did you notice what the spriggan did to your men’s weapons?” she said, tartly. “Do you think it will be safe here? You were telling us we’d have to hide in the marshes or flee north only yesterday.”

“I planned to send my bodyguards with you,” said the earl.

“And who will guard you while you try to fight the men of Abalach and Cantre’r Gwaelod?” she demanded. “You will need every man.”

“Oh, you can send a few along with the boy, if you’re worried about bandits,” said Fionn. “I won’t guarantee they won’t come to any harm if they carry axes under trays though. I don’t know about your wife. I find traveling with other people’s wives leads to trouble, and there are the little ones, and I need to move far and fast.”

The earl took a deep breath. “Gwalach. Go and prepare my bodyguard to ride. The best of my horses, and spare steeds. The Lady Branwen and my family go north. Sir Spriggan. Do I have your word that you will guarantee their safety?”

“No,” said Fionn. “It’s dangerous out there. I will swear that I will do them no harm, and that they’re safe from my lady’s wrath, until you come to make your submission and she decides what is to happen to you. I know her well enough to say she will not punish your family for what you have done. You, I don’t know about. But she is kinder than I am.”

The earl bowed his head. Nodded. “I am content with that. I had no idea you spriggans were so strong.” He gathered his family around him, holding them. “Sir Spriggan…I have never established your name.”

“Spriggans don’t give out their names,” said Fionn, truthfully. “You can call me Finn. Some humans do.”

“Sir Finn…

“Just Finn. Nobility is supposed to come with noblesse oblige and I don’t have much.”

“Can we provide you with a horse? You are welcome to the pick of my stables.”

“Horses don’t like my kind, unfortunately. But I can run as far and as fast as anyone can ride.”

“How soon do you wish to go?” asked Branwen.

“How soon can you get the horses saddled?” said Fionn, helping himself to a piece of cheese.

It was rather more than an hour later that Fionn and Díleas left, complete with an escort of twenty—just enough to get into trouble and not quite enough to get out of it, in Fionn’s opinion. Still, they’d eaten, and at least where Earl Alois’s writ ran, would have no opposition.

Well, mostly. Fionn very soon found out why Earl Alois had been so eager to make his peace with his Scrap, besides mere invasion and fear for his family and lands. The country was alive with various fay creatures, and the piskies seemed rather prone to play nasty tricks on the earl and his people. At the first mazing, Fionn strode ahead and found the three piskies doing it. They’d already separated out Alois’s son and were leading him off to a stinking bog.

Díleas ran after the piskies. Rounded them up a lot more effectively than he had done the sheep, perhaps because they were a little brighter than sheep, and perhaps because he’d been studying sheepdog tactics now, with every chance he got. It left the boy on his pony blinking at the bog, at the rest of the party, and at the little, largely naked blue-green piskies, running around in a tight circle in front of Díleas.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” asked Fionn.

One of the piskies sniffed at him, sulkily. “It’s of Earl Alois’s blood. He nearly killed the lady of Land. She told us.”

That was the trouble with piskies. They were all too good at forgetting most of what they were told. But if they fixated on a point, well, they fixated on it. “And I am dealing with that. Do you see me for what I am?” And he let a tongue of fire lick at their underprotected nether quarters. Not enough to burn, but enough to frighten them with the smell of dragon fire. They squealed, and Díleas barked at them. Short snappy barks. Fionn did not have to have a large imagination to hear “shut up” in that bark. The piskies obviously got it. “You tell your friends, and get them to tell their friends, or I’ll send Díleas back to fetch you. And them. He’s a demon dog, see,” said Fionn. “Now scram. Leave them and Alois alone until she tells you otherwise.”

When he thought about it logically, Fionn could understand why Earl Alois hadn’t told him about it. It was one of the dubious fruits of deception: the earl assumed he knew, and that all the fay were doing it in an orchestrated fashion, and not that it was merely piskies. It hadn’t seemed to him that the spriggans held this view, or the knockyan. So it was probably just the piskies. They were numerous, and so annoying that most of the others avoided them. But while Fionn knew that, most humans would not.