THE GIFTS OF THE LADY
or
What You Can Get For A Guilder.
A story from Western Dragon Pass by Erik Sieurin.
The clack whirled through the air, struck a bough on an elm, bounced
back, bounced again on a large mossy boulder, and landed at the feet
of the two young men.
- -That is what I call a bad omen, said the short one, and his voice
shuddered slightly.
- -On the contrary, replied his taller companion, it is a very good
omen.
The short young man, whose name, incidentally, was Selaff, looked
incredulously on his taller partner, whose name was Lackso.
- -Please, Lackso, don't play Godi now. This is serious! When the Lady
of the Wild rejects an offering, can you call it anything else than a
bad omen?
The taller man bent down and picked up the clack.
- - If we continue now, Selaff went on with a certain amount of anguish
in his voice, we won't get anything for our work, neither fish nor
fowl nor beast. We might very well have an accident.
- -Yes, Lackso answered sharply, if we just continue on now without
remedying the situation. But see, the Lady is nothing but honest. She
might be cruel and wild, but she keeps an honest bargain.
He turned to his companion with that sort of eyes people have before
their Initiation, a mixture of expectancy, pride and fear.
- -She rejected the clack - the traditional clack - because she has an
Opportunity for us. Something far more valuable than a single clack.
Selaff sighed.
- -Please, Lackso, don't fool around!
- -Has one of the Great Stags come to such an age that the Lady no
longer wishes to keep it? Is it their destiny, that all those weedbills
which stays the night up in Mare Lake before they go further south
should be caught in our net?
- -What ever gives you the idea that...
- -OR, Lackso almost shouted, Eurmal's Mouth may have gulped down his
last whitebottom!
That seemed to silence Selaff, and his eyes became similar to those
of his friend's. Eurmal's Mouth was the legendary giant pike of Mare
Lake. It had a crown on its head, the weed-covered skeleton of a fishhawk which
tried to catch the swimming ogre but whose claws stuck and was
drowned. It had swallowed herons and swans whole, and was smarter
than a man. If you believed Firith Bushtracker from Firithstorp, it
was a Trickster, trapped in the lake in a fish's form
due to a curse from King Sartar himself.
- -Well, Selaff muttered, what do you propose?
Lackso didn't answer. Instead he digged in his pouch and produced a
shiny silver coin.
- -A true guilder, he said. Printed in the days of the old kings,
without any chaos bats or tyrant emperors on it.
- -Your First Coin, Selaff whispered. You are going to throw that away?
Lackso cleared his throat and started on something similar to the
traditional incantation, but with on the spot changes as needed.
- -Lady who fathered the Hunter,
take the Tracker's Toll,
silver for harvest of oak-crop,
silver for slaughter of beast-cattle.
Guilder for Goddess of Wildlands,
given to well-deserved creditor,
herdess of hare, deer and boar,
planter of pine, elm and oak.
Make the hunter's day worthwhile,
fill up the fisherman's nets,
guide carefully axe of the lumberjack,
brim-pack the berrier's basket.
While chanting he swirled around with closed eyes, quickly but
without swaying. With the last words, he hurled the shining guilder into
the woods. It whirled away and disappeared soundlessly into the dark
underbrush.
They remained silent for a while, blushing as small boys.
Then they both turned around and continued into the woods, up the
trail which led to Mare Lake.
They followed the old custom of keeping the conversation away from
their supposed luck, but keeping their thoughts away was nigh
impossible, so they continuously skirted the subject. Never before
did they stop so often to peer at saplings suitable for fishing-rods
or dug up the dung left by wood-grazing cattle to see if there were
any dungbeetle worms there. Never before did they stop so often
because Selaff considered a place suitable for a snare, and never
before did he change his mind so often after sniffing around the
underbrush.
- -There seem to be a lot of blueberries this year, Lackso said for the
fifth time.
- -Ought to tell the cousins about it, he added to have said
_something_ new.
- -How are your cousins, by the way? Selaff asked, jumping on to a
subject that kept him well-away from voicing his hopes.
- -Oh, OK I guess. Firith was very happy to talk about hunting and
fishing, to keep me away from them, while Tiina did her best to keep
them near me, and be sure that I saw them and noticed their great
possibilities as wifes to a young and-presumedly-soon-prosperous
merchant.
Selaff laughed, his usual cackling laughter that didn't suit his
normal voice.
- -Well, the old magpie has always wanted her daughters to marry
someone who isn't a cottar, hasn't she?
Lackso made a face.
- -You've got better than prospects than me in that regard, my friend,
he said. Pity the ladies of the clan doesn't understand that. They
think "Issaries" and then they think of those goldbags of the cities.
I'm just your father's clerk and errand-boy, I'm nothing but a pedlar
on my own.
- -Some of my father's silver is likely to end up in your groom's
chest, Selaff said calmly. It may be that they think of.
Lackso made an uglier face which started Selaff laughing again.
- -That silver belongs to you and your sisters, he retorted. Why don't
they catch the obvious: If the gods are just, you'll inherit silver
and cattle, and I'll inherit a dozen boats that no-one has paid for
the repair of, a yard of lumber, and a shack full of tools I cannot
use.
- -Well, Selaff said seriously, you know that as much silver you want is
yours, and so many cows I can give you without my mother starting to
scream.
- -I only want payment for that yard of boats and that shack-full of
tools I don't need but you do. Silver ought never to be inherited, it
should be earned.
Selaff was going to add to that, but suddenly Lackso snapped up his
head, shouted: "Roebuck!" and let go of his javelin. It whirled away
and imbedded itself into the roots of a fallen tree.
They stared silently at the at the ex-king of the forest for a while.
- -Well, added Lackso sheepishly, it looked like a roebuck to me.
- -We shouldn't talk so much, Selaff comforted and slapped his
friend's back. Besides, if it _had_ been a roebuck, you'd hit it square
in the neck.
- -You're right about talking, muttered Lackso and went to retrieve his
weapon. We'll scare away any chance game we might meet on the way to
the lake.
They kept silent as Telmori (they thought) for the next mile or so,
until the trail ended and they stood looking down a steep hill at
Mare Lake. They had seen no game bigger than a blackbird, and for the
last part of the mile they had stopped now and then to eat
blueberries and scrutinize the forest closest to the trail for any
track or spoor. There were some droppings here and half a paw there.
but nothing new.
- -It was about time, said Lackso.
- -Yes, it is getting dark, his companion agreed.
- -Well, it is then that the beasts come out to play, isn't it?
They started carefully climbing down the slope.
- -You set up camp, and I'll sneak around the lake and scout it out,
OK? Lackso inquired.
- -Do so. You always had sharper eyes than me anyway. Besides, I can't
wait to get the nets and rods in order.
- -No weedbills, in any case. Lackso was scanning the dark tarn down
there, and his eyes shimmered with spellcraft while doing so - he had
chose to sharpen his eyes even further.
- -Don't look to deep into the lake itself, Selaff joked lamely, 'cause
I'll want to find out where the fishes are myself.
- -Don't you worry.
Selaff was ready with the simple shelter - no one had been there
since spring, but they had left everything in good order - and very
quickly found that he himself had made the nets so ready before he
stuffed them into his pack, that he just had to unpack them. Despite
all their sapling-scrutiny, no rods had been cut. For the moment, he
thus stood peering out into the dusk, and fretted about Lackso not
returning yet. Suddenly there was a very bad imitation of a
weedbill's squeak on the eastern shore of the lake. Selaff squeaked
back (with a voice that might possibly have fooled a _real_ weedbill)
and set off into the brush surrounding the small lake.
He found Lackso peering at the ground and almost jumping up and down
with nervosity.
- -What is it, Selaff hiss. Deer?
- -_Horse_, Lackso hissed back. And a large one as well!
Selaff stared first at Lackso, then at the ground. The man was right,
damnit! There were the clear tracks of a hoofed and shod large animal
coming first from the surrounding forest, obviously down to the lake
to drink, and then back again.
It didn't took long for Selaff to realise what that meant, and when
he looked up he saw that Lackso had realised it as well, 'cause the
man was clearly afraid.
- -There is no one in the village who has a horse except for Youri
Bramblethane and Fylgar Rainsong, and they are stuck on their arses
at their steads, that I'm sure of, Lackso hissed.
- -And no normal traveller would go this way - they would follow the
roads and trails, Selaff filled in.
- -Which leaves only one possibility, Lackso continued.
- -Two.
- -What?
- -Two, Selaff said. Either he's a scout for some cattleraid, _or_ he
is a Lunar guy...
- -Three, Lackso almost shouted.
- -Shhh. You're right, it might be a damn Grazer as well.
- -Well, in any case, it means trouble. Lets hurry back _now_ and get
the word to the clan!
Selaff shook his head.
- -Oh no, come on now! Don't be a coward!
- -But I _am_ a coward! And a wise man at that. The guy's mounted, and
we are unarmed.
- -No, we're not.
- -Yes we are. Neither of us is some kind of Humakt hero, and unless
you are some damned Sword you don't fight mounted people with a
longknife.
- -Your javelin...
- -Is only _one_ javelin, and I have never threw it at a human before.
That guy might have friends, or armor.
- -That's the point! He _might_ be or do anything. But it's our duty to find
out as much as possible about the guy before we get home and tell the others.
Lackso sighed and looked nervously around him.
- -Besides, Selaff continued, we might not be warriors, but we are
damned fine scouts...
- -Yea, Lackso snarled, half-Telmori godsborn snekaround spies, sure!
A boatwright's apprentice and a trader's clerk!
- -Hey, take it easy! We are not _that_ bad, and remember, the Lady
helps us, OK?
Lackso seemed to become calmer.
- -Whatever you say. I'll just get that javelin and we'll get on to it.
- -Great! I'll stay at the trail, you can get my small sack as well. We
haven't eaten yet, remember?
They followed the trail nervously and quitely for half an hour. There
were clear tracks most of the way, and some small dunghills now and
then, so despite that night had fallen it wasn't that hard following
it. Usually, Lackso had his nose and eyes down in the earth, while
Selaff peered cautiously into the wood. Then came the first shriek.
It shocked them both, and Lackso almost turned tail and run, but it
was over as soon as it ended. It was something between a neigh and a
roar, and it might have been near or far, but it certainly was in the
direction of the trail.
- -What the Storm was that? Lackso hissed.
- -No idea. His horse, perhaps?
- -It's a damn strange horse in that case. And horses don't neigh just
like that, for the heck of it, as far as I know.
- -A bobcat? Selaff suggested. That startled the horse, I mean?
- -Shut up! Lackso snapped him off.
They kept silent for a while.
- -No hoofbeats, muttered Lackso. Which means that the horse wasn't
startled enough to run away, but startled enough to sound like a broo
was plugging him.
- -Perhaps that is what happened, and the goatskin was very quick,
Selaff joked. He was, for reasons unknown even to himself, near to
bursting out laughing.
- -In case you cannot see it, I look pissed off, Lackso muttered. If we
hurry, we might catch up with him.
- -Or them, Selaff agreed, and they now hurried on, less concerned
whether they made any noise and less concerned about following the
trail, except short pauses now and then while Lackso scrutinized the
ground and Selaff tried to hear the sound of hoofbeats over his own
panting. The ground had become rockier, which made the first action
more difficult than the second, but they still were on the trail and
the forest was remarkably silent, until about the fifth stop.
Selaff patted Lackso and the back, and they both stood up and
listened to the sound of approaching hooves clappering against
moss-covered rock and fallen logs, because they had now entered a
part of the forest against which Umath bore some kind of grudge and
fallen trees were everywhere.
Into the clearing before them galloped their prey, shaggy and sweaty,
with his human upper body almost as hairy as his horse rear, and with
sculpted copper breastplate and shining horseshoes of hardened bronze
contrasting with the wild fetishes bound into his mane, tail and hair
and the stripes and circles painted over his body in red, deep green
and black.
It was a centaur, a horseman thing, and he half-whinnied, half-roared
again when seeing them, and halted swiftly on a large rock before
them.
And Lackso suddenly seemed to shine from within with an Understanding
and leapt into the clearing shouting something Selaff hardly
recognized as language, again and again, while the horseman curiously
peered at him with large brown eyes.
- -What?! Selaff hissed.
Lackso spoke like a normal man again, first in Tradetalk, then in his
mother tongue, gesturing heavily.
- -Yes, he said and grinned nervously trying to look friendly. We are of the
Lady! We are of the Lady!
END OF PART ONE