Chapter 49 - the Time III
Time is a predictable thing. It will neither slow nor hasten, for any man or purpose. And so, on the appointed day? The festival happened. The strange things began to truly happen the night before. Shan was sitting in the evening, out front, watching the sun go down. Honestly, all that they knew? They were young lovers. The setting sun was beautiful in their eyes. They were each beautiful in each other's eyes. As it grew dark? They were all set to make eyes and kiss.
It was all so perfect. The next day? The sun would rise. The festival would begin. Shan planned on surprising a few village boys with his new found fighting prowess. Making his coin wench proud of him, making himself feel better about himself and his condition. The condition, of both of them. He knew he already had passed examination to be a kingsman. He would wear the king's armor. He had fulfilled his lordship. His previous condition of anxiety and worry that had hallmarked his childhood, was already giving away to some new sense of contentment and accomplishment.
Shan now knew. He could take Gullina to live at that garment village they had marveled at. As high reckoners, both of them were useful to merchants and there were plenty around. Shan and Gullina had shared privately on the matter. It wasn't the coin. It had been that taste of being treated well by almost everyone they met, instead of what they were used to in their home village.
When Shan and Gullina shared all this with his father, Ryeamund had smiled, nodded, and came back at them with some of his own wisdom.
"Aye. You both sound as my wife. High reckoned words to describe things so well."
Ryeamund paused, and smiled some.
"I reckon as a farmer. Yer sacks are dropping, both of you. That's a fine thing."
Shan was quite sure, that he had found the "missing sweetbread" his mother had spoken of. That her prophecy had become fulfilled. She had said, that sometimes when things finally begin to change? They change quickly.
This had changed quickly. Like a table had been suddenly flipped over? Shan had gone from afraid to powerful. Wondering when he would learn to fight? He already had been taught, and simply didn't know. He had went from running from the village boys, to be about to wear the high king's armor. He had practically overnight? Went from feeling ten inches tall, to feeling ten feet tall.
Surely, that was it. The missing sweetbread? Located. Things changing quickly once they started? Done. Okay, let's get on with life. No such luck. And why? Simply because the gods will sometimes do strange shit.
The first strange thing that went on? Just about to start making eyes and kissing his coin wench, his father Ryeamund wandered out front and sat down. By itself? Not odd at all. In fact, any parent interrupting a goo goo eyes kiss session? Kind of normal.
What was not normal? Ryeamund was obviously… about half piss drunk. While it was hardly as if Shan had never once seen his father into a goblet or three before? This was something new. He had that swagger a drunk man has. The issue was, this was not some ordinary man. Ryeamund Thorson had simply the musculature of a goddamn ox walking around on two legs. He was not so drunk that he was going to stagger, either.
He seemed to be in that… dangerous phase. Just soused enough, that he seemed unpredictable. Not so hammered, however, that he would falter and fall. Gullina shot Shan a look, and he caught it. He went as silent as the grave. Rare, didn't cover it. This? Unheard of. Next, Eira came out. Mother was drunk as well. Neither one was ever any sort of drunkard, so again? This was doubly weird. Shan was not used to dealing with drunk parents. Gullina? Raised by perpetually drunken sheep farmers, instantly recognized it and was wary.
Shan's drunk father and mother were looking at one another, then to Shan, and at each other and back and forth. Something? Was coming.
"Woman! I am in my goblet."
"Aye, husband. I got you that way. In the bath."
Well? Shan thought about it. That did explain what was taking them so long in there.
Eira smiled at Gullina.
"Gullina. Would you do me a favor?"
Gullina smiled.
"Aye. Another horn of mead, perhaps?"
"Hmm. Amusing prospect, but? Nay. I would say that I had one too many horns already? I would be lying. I've had several too many, to tell the truth of it, dear. Trust me, Gullina. There is no matter. Yet… would you be so kind as to leave us? Me, and Little Rye… we need to have words with Shan out here. You have my oath? It concerns you in no way at all. So? Please take no offense."
"I've been meaning to talk to Var… Shan? Enjoy your parent's company."
After a somewhat long and uncomfortable silence? Shan broke it.
"Well? I'm waiting."
Ryeamund chuckled.
"Oh. Have you, now? I… have been waiting… many winters. Welcome to my kingdom, son. The kingdom of Waiting."
Shan smiled. Despite his size and strength? He knew his father to be a pleasant and happy drunk.
"Where is this kingdom of Waiting located, father. Is it hard to find."
"Nay. The Kingdom of Worry, is quite near."
All three Oxen spilled out the front door. They? Were tipsy as well. The biggest ox, Arroch? Loudly addressed Ryeamund, as only another drunkard can when both are in the same goblet.
"Little Rye!"
"Aye, ox."
"Are you to become unruly, then?"
"Perhaps. Aye. And what of it, if I am."
"Ha. Then? I shall have your back, man."
"Arroch? Many thanks. Yet… if you could leave me and my son… we need words."
"Aye."
Arroch disappeared back inside. Shan could hear everyone carrying on and having fun in there. Out here? All somber and serious. What gives, he thought.
"Wife? We had a plan."
"We did."
"Aye. I believe this fine-plan, or so it seemed as one? Began, with you… explaining to Shan here? The matter of my father, and my father's sword."
Eira was drunk enough to give a quick, glib overview of Ryeamund's father not being able to bear children. Then, of how Ryeamund came about. Ending with an explanation of who he exactly was, a drawing that looked just like him on a family line scroll, etc.
Shan took the tipsy explanation in, and simply nodded and accepted it. So, Shan thought. That? Was the reason for the drinking to get the courage up to explain that. Now? What had made no sense whatsoever, well, it made a bit of sense now. Achievement unlocked.
No… such… luck.
"May I go now, father?"
"Shan? As much as I would love to say aye? No. There is more. This? Is just the beginning. Eira. Step one? Is done."
"Aye. On to step two."
"Shan? Would you not… join me and mother? In… a horn or three? It will cushion your landing."
"Perhaps later. Perhaps now? We could go to the second step. Of you and mother's fine-plan."
Ryeamund sighed.
"Well. Step two, then. We spoke of how my father's sword worked well enough, yet, father's sword? Could not make… a little dagger. Yes?"
"Aye."
"Well… like father? Like son."
"Excuse me?"
"Did I slobber? Shan… my own sword? As my father's sword. Ask mother… it works? Just… it doesn't make little daggers very quickly. It took me forever, to make my own son. There. I said it. Go and tell the whole kingdom, of the failures of my sword."
Shan chuckled.
"Father… this is amusing, yet… I do have two older brothers. Your own sons. I? Am but a foundling."
"Aye. And how sure are you on that count, son."
"Father. I mean no disrespect, but… you are farther into your goblet, than you claimed."
"Wife? Step one, went well enough. Step two? We stumbled a bit. Could not a high reckoner, step in on this count?"
Eira smiled.
"Shan? Father and me, set about… okay, making a little dagger. And for years, nothing happened. Because of Ryeamund's father, we thought… no, um… little dagger, would happen? We… took two Sons of Odin."
Shan stared at them.
"You two? Are either very drunk, or very serious."
Ryeamund burped and chuckled.
"Aye. Both, to be fair about it. We are both, very drunk. Yet? We are both very serious, son. We got drunk, to get our courage up. Honestly, Shan. I feared this conversation with you? More than I feared going into the great corridor battle of the Tempering. You need to know these things."
"You two, are telling me. Here and now. That… Gareen and Mekall… are…"
Eira smiled thin. Then yelled as loud as Var could. Shan hadn't known she had it in her.
"Gareen! Mekall!!"
Both appeared at the front door, surprise surprise, both a tad tipsy. Gareen spoke for them.
"Mother?"
"Aye. Tell Shan who your father is."
Gareen pointed immediately at Ryeamund. Shan chuckled, and said "aha!". Eira squinted her eyes at Shan, and…
"Gareen? Mekall? The festival is tomorrow, you two fools. Tell him the truth. Its time. Actually? We're running out of time, so… on your mother's life? Who is your real father."
Gareen sighed, and sipped at his drinking horn first. Then another sigh.
"Little brother? Many brave men died, defending the corridor. I know you learned about it in the garten. This, was a couple years before you were born. Now. If your mother died in childbirth, and your father died at the corridor? Well… father and mother, took me and Mekall in."
"You two, are serious? Or, you are all drunk, and all in on this."
"Well. Me and Mekall here? We are drunk. Var is more at fault than we are, for that. Far too many toasts out of her, but… yes. Your two older brothers? We are both Sons of Odin. The surprise, should not be too great, little brother. Gullina is a daughter of Odin. You knew she was a foundling. Count back the winters. For both of you."
Shan stared at both of his parents and both of his brothers. All were eyeing him back level and steady, all appeared to be serious.
"Let us say, that I even entertain this whole… drunken tale, shall we? What am I, then."
Mekall sighed.
"Little brother? We were both with mother and father a couple years already, when… along came you. A surprise. We? Are both the foundlings. You? The son."
"Again, I'm playing along with this little game. If this is all true, then… why the big deception."
Mekall took a big gulp out of his drinking horn, and whistled low.
"Your safety, for one thing. Little brother? Me and Mekall, are first and foremost… kingsmen."
"This… is madness."
At the word "madness", Gareen spit some of his drink out.
"No. But, the madness part? That… comes soon. Just wait, little brother. It gets better."
"Were this all an elaborate Fool's Day joke? It would make much more sense to me."
Gareen got much more serious of a tone into him.
"Mother? Perhaps, before we get into the… madness part? We might break him in a bit on that count, if we were to have him first meet the High Lord Mjolnir."
Shan temporarily forgot all about this… whatever the hell was going on, and excitedly asked if the Lord was coming to the festival too. Everyone either looked around, or giggled, or both.
Mekall, ever the mischievous brother, took the lead.
"Little brother? Yes. The High Lord Mjolnir? You will meet him. Quite soon, I might add. I guarantee you by Odin himself? The Lord will definitely be at the festival. You can drink a horn with him, if you wish."
"Really?!?!"
"Aye. So… you do wish to tip a horn with the High Lord Mjolnir himself, then."
"Aye!"
"Well. You then simply need father's permission. Here. Take my own horn. Go, and stand in front of father. Ask him his permission for it. Politely. Go on."
Shan excitedly asked formally for permission, as bidden. Ryeamund? Tapped his own horn onto Shan's, and… loudly demanded him to drain the horn with him, to seal the deal. Shan did. Smiling.
Ryeamund cocked his head and winked at him.
"Well? Do I get my permission? Do I?"
Ryeamund, drunk but with his characteristic far north-man dry wit, couldn't help it.
"Do you want to drink with him again? Go. Fill your horn up. Wulfgar's cask of the high king's own fine-mead he was gefted? On the table in the kitchen. I would suggest that. It is simply the best."
Shan was back in seemingly seconds. Again standing in front of his father, again begging if he drank a second horn, if he could get his permission. Ryeamund started laughing, and they clicked horns another time, then both drained their horns once more. Ryeamund, simply looked strange at his other two older sons, and shook his head. Mekall couldn't help it.
"Little brother? Its an old north-man's custom. Just as you always hear Var talk about three horns, before entertainment? So too, must you ask and drain horns with father, to get that permission. Once more, Shan."
As Shan was running excited in to get another horn of the fine-mead? Both older brothers handed him their own empty horns, would he fill them up as well.
After the third horn, Shan still hadn't figured the joke out.
Gareen shook his head.
"We have to tell him."
Mekall was chuckling.
"No, we don't. I'm curious, how many times I can get him to fetch me mead. Little brother. Are you not a high reckoner?"
"I am."
"Do you think you might figure this little puzzle out, or, do you think you will drink ten or fifteen horns and fall over, and still not get the jest we make. A jest we made three times already. There? Is yer hint, little brother. Reckon? That out."
Ryeamund took over.
"Shan?"
"Father."
"What do you know of the High Lord Mjolnir? Tell me."
"Well. Not much. He was an oxen, previously."
"Ah. I was once an oxen, as well. Go on, go on… what else."
"He has a little farm concern, he keeps still. Up in the far north. In the high king's own personal district."
"Aye. I used to have a small farm, couple acres. Same district. I still have it. That's where we stay when we go up north. Its right behind my wife's uncle's farm. Keep at it."
"Well, he fought in the battle for the corridor… with the original other three Oxen."
"Yes. I was there. Everyone knows it. Now, son? You're still sober, I believe. Can you reckon to… four?"
"Aye…"
"The three other Oxen? Are in there. In my great-house. Drinking. There were only four Oxen back then. If those three, were original oxen, and I was an oxen as well? Reckon that, would you."
"What are you saying, father? I know you know the great man, you are his steward!"
"Wife? Have we wasted how much coin now, on that garten? Son… what are Lord Mjolnir's weapons of choice. Any young boy knows that tale, I am sure."
"Oh. A great war-hammer, and a great battle ax. The hammer, said to be so heavy, most men cannot even lift it, let alone swing it effectively in a fight."
"Aye. They do say that. And tell me, Shan. High reckoner… what weapon would you reckon a blacksmith would enjoy, hmm?"
"A… hammer, surely."
"A smith would. And… a woodcutter?"
"Well, an ax, I am sure."
"Am I not a smith, and a woodcutter? Use yer helmet, son. Come now."
Shan just stared. Puzzled.
"How… could you be the High Lord, and his steward, both? It makes no sense."
Ryeamund chuckled, sipped his horn, and was about to yet again give more wit in the same fashion… when Eira cut him off.
"Shan?"
"Mother…"
"Remember Var, spending a couple weeks on lessons for you?"
"Aye."
"Were not many of her lessons, all about deception?"
"Very much, mother. Very much."
"I grew up with those women. I know all their words. I am sure, Var taught you this. Believe… none of what you hear, and only half of what you see. Yes?"
"She did."
"There you go, then."
Shan puzzled on all this a little while, then asked Eira more.
"Mother?"
"Yes, son."
"Then… who are Uncle Naxon, and Uncle Waylem?"
"Oh. First of all, A 'lem', is very old speak, in RavinLunden? For a side trail. A 'way-lem", is to go… by the way, of the lem. In other words? Take the side trail, not the main bigger trail."
"Hmm. And Naxon? Let me guess. That is old Ravin-speak, for… my son is a fool."
"I understand you having a harsh tongue right now, Shan, but please mind it for me, would you? And no. Naxon? Is simply the name of the village I was born in."
"Then… who were those two men? I met them several times, over the years. When I was younger."
"You? Are… more important, than you would know, Shan. They were sent, by someone that was concerned about your well being. To check in on us, and you. See you were doing well. Make sure, we needed for nothing."
"If this is all some Fool's Day jest? It is quite an elaborate one. You are all quite serious, are you not?"
Eira gave a thin smile.
"Very. Use your wits on the matter, son. When you finally have the correct answer? Every last piece of puzzling information, fits perfectly into place, and makes perfect sense."
"And my name?"
"Shan is a very popular Rhyshian name. As common as Dann, down here. I told you, your real name, if you remember it."
"Aye. And you said I am just Shan."
"Yes."
"If everything will fit, then… what of my median name. Ildur."
"It means… elder, or leader. To my people."
"The RavinLunden?"
"Your clan name? Niall. It means 'nail'. You come from a great line, Shan. When you travel to the far north? People will know more or less who and what you are, simply by you using your whole name. Shan… when you travel up there, finally? You… have more kin and clan, than you can count."
"And… my girl I am in coin to?"
"Oh. When people learn you are in coin, to a kingmaker? Well… I promise you, Shan. Gullina will never have animal shit thrown at her, ever again. Yet… you know how a man might become a merchant, and have barrels of gold coins?"
"Yes."
"Well. Once that man has those barrels of gold… how might he ever find if a girl liked him for himself? Or… was just attracted to…"
"No. Gullina has great quality. She… took my part, when it did not profit her. And it cost her to do it. I would keep her. Mother?"
"Yes, dear."
"What piece of this puzzle is left?"
"Oh my. Just the last, biggest one. Shan, you know what moon's blood is, yes?"
"Aye."
"And… if a woman suddenly stops having her moon's blood, then…"
"She is with child."
"Yes. Well… a very important man, in the kingdom? Is… convinced, that you might be his son."
"I assume, you do not mean father."
"No. I don't. Now, I swear to you. Little Rye here? Is your father. He put you in my belly, and he saw you come out of it."
"Then… why would this man think that."
"This, is the complicated part. The rest? Was easy, compared against this great task to explain it."
"Mother? After all else… pray to continue."
"Yes. Son… Lord Mjolnir. He fought next to the high king, in the battle for the corridor. He is friends, with the North Star. Your tea man? Wolf. Wulfgar. My guardian, who all but raised me. The North Star's right hand man. Shan. When your father is in the high north? He stays and spends idle time, with the North Star and Wulfgar. They all play high dice and raid the mad king's pantry."
"Okay."
"Well. The high king, he has his wise steward. Yes?"
"Of course."
"Every pickle in the kingdom knows, if only by gossip. We are ruled by a mad king, but… his works are true. We love our mad king."
"Everyone knows this."
"Yes. What they do not all know? Well… how do I say this, just so. You know how… Lord Mjolnir, and his steward? Are the same man. In our case, it is because your father does not want to be stared at, and pointed at, and asked all manner of questions every day."
"I could understand that, I suppose."
"Yes. Well. The high king, and his steward? Are… similar to that."
"Oh. If you don't already know, then… the king that doesn't like people kneeling in front of him, and insists ordinary pickles talk to him as any other man? He… would say he is… his own steward. Yes?"
"In some fashion, as that, yes. Yet… not for that reason. The wise steward? And the mad high king? Are… the same man, Shan. But, and follow my words here, if you can. The… steward, and the king? Do not… know this. They… are as two men."
"Oh. The mad king… a madman. It actually stands to reason, now that you say the words like that. I am following your words. Yet?"
"Yes?"
"You… started, with talk of… a woman's moon's blood. Some important man thinks I am his son."
"Yes. The difficult part. Shan, everyone knows this… that the king? Has no heir. The kingdom is a fine and wonderful thing, but… if he dies? Imagine all the fighting and chaos, as different important men, all try to claim that high throne. You could imagine this. Many kingdoms have fallen apart for this reason. I am sure you know this, from the garten."
"Aye."
"Well. Just like Ryeamund's father. His wife gefted him a son, the only way she could. And the father was a great man?"
"Yes. I only just heard that tale, I remember it."
"Well. In the same manner. Sort of, mind you. Similar idea. The… mad king? Was gefted, an heir. Now Shan. Everything, was for a reason. Remember Var, and her girls, all having fun with your older brothers? The morning trips to the barn."
Shan laughed.
"Aye. And, not often that I get to make them the butt of my own jest. I quite enjoyed that bit of fun, I tell you. Most amusing."
"Yes. Well? Had anyone put a sword to either of your brother's throats, and demanded a truthful answer. What would they have said. They would have sworn oaths before Odin himself, that you took fun barn trips, every morning? With… Var, and Hlin, and Syn. Would they not?"
"Aye. They… would have."
"Now. Imagine it, Shan. Suppose yer Aunt Var, came back nine moons later, with a newborn baby. Would not Gareen and Mekall, swear on anything and anyone, that you were the father?"
"Hmm. Well… she has a husband, an oxen… he---"
"Shan. Pretend she had no husband, then. Everyone, would coin in to that story, yes?"
"I suppose they would. I mean to say, I am sort of following you, yet…"
"Oh, it was no accident, that your Aunt Var… played that trick on your brothers. And I am sure, she told you. That the kingdom has many secrets."
"Aye. She did say such."
"So. Stay with my words, Shan. We are almost there. The high king, the mad king. And, the wise steward. The same man. A madman, is both of them. Now, he is a good and decent and just… madman. If those words make sense, yet, it is true as anything. Those two men? Do not know, what each other do. Each thinks, the other is awake, when the other sleeps."
"May I ask how this was worked?"
"Easy. The two men? Do not know what each other do. We were all having a fine night. When… the one stirred, about to wake up? The woman, simply laid down next to him. Shook him awake. Get up, get up, you fool! My husband is at the door!"
"He… the madman… wakes up, next to the woman… "
"They did nothing. She was only there, long enough to shake him awake. My husband is coming! Wake up!"
"And… he thinks…"
"He does not think. He believes. The husband? Well now. What would a husband do."
"Oh. There would be harsh words. More than a few."
"Yes. For a while? Every time the husband saw him, in public. Words… a bit more…"
"Okay, mother. You have not lost me. Yet. I have but one question."
"What else would you know?"
"Two things. One. This… deception? All well and good, planned very well. But… how could this woman… suddenly show up nine moons later, with a newborn baby. You can't… make that just happen on demand, to complete the deception."
"Oh. Can she not? The woman had been trying to have a child with her husband for a long time. She wished more than anything, to not see her moon's blood, Shan. The first time she was without moon's blood? This… well formed plan? Was put into action, as soon as she missed. Then? Angry husband… a big belly. Everyone, in every great-house? Saw and heard those two men arguing, anytime they saw each other."
"It is all a giant lie, mother."
"Shan? It is a geft. A geft that had to be farst upon the man. If you trick someone, to benefit yourself? That is a mark of extremely low character. Yet, if you go so far as to trick someone, to benefit them, and not yourself? That, is high character. Only a true friend would go through so much bother and trouble, to help them."
"I see your words. If this is not a Fool's Day prank played upon me, a couple moons late? When am I to meet…"
"Most people, going to meet the high king? First meet the wise steward several times, to get used to him, and only then? Might they get to meet… the mad king."
"Who is the same madman."
"Aye."
"So. You are all saying… that I will one day… actually… meet? The steward."
Mekall snickered, and Ryeamund chuckled.
"What? Oh, I fell for this elaborate jest, and…"
Eira hugged him. Warm and tight, for several long seconds, before holding him at arm's length by the tops of his tall shoulders.
"Shan? You already met the wise steward. You… have preferred to have tea and morsels, with him and Wulfgar, for a while now."
"So. I thought the sweetbread, was Gullina. Is this all of the missing sweetbread, then?"
"Well… just the one crumb more. And really, after all this? It… is as nothing, as compared."
"Well, go on then. Flick the last crumb towards me…"
"The festival, Shan. Its… not the mighty Gareen's festival."
"Aha. Father chose Mekall, then. His wits. It is to be his day."
Gareen and Mekall looked at each other, then both slowly turned their heads to Shan. Mekall started up next.
"Little brother. Are you sure, and certain… that you are a high reckoner?"
"I am."
"Well… I sure hope Gullina is there to counsel you, then. It is your festival! Not only are you the Lord Mjolnir's firstborn son? You are his only son, you fool! What are they teaching in that garten. I'm starting to wonder now, you know."
They were three brothers. They now showed it.
"Oh, shut yer gob. You were gartened in some tavern, I'm sure of it."
"I'm sure I was! I know more about serving wenches, than you do."
Gareen poked his brother Mekall in the side of his head.
"You! Watch your tongue. You do not speak to the next king, in such a manner. What character, does that show, eh?"
"Oh, piss off. We're both brothers to the same young man. What makes you believe, that you are over me, in station?"
"I'll have you know, that I'm his favorite brother! I am taller, I am bigger, I am stronger. I am older, as well. So yes. I am above you, in station!"
"Oh, listen to the words out of you! How many times have you heard Wulfgar say it with his own lips. Why, I can teach any fool to swing a sword, I first look to a man with more wits, that can reckon. I am, the devious brother! Which makes me the smarter brother. Which? Makes me the brother higher in station!"
"Odin save me from you and your nature… you? Are lucky the high king is in that great-house behind us? Or I would stick that drinking horn up yer ass!"
"Oh. That is fine character, to show, innit? You would know all about sticking things up the ass of a man, would you not?"
Ryeamund was chuckling heartily now, and sipping his own drinking horn. Eira watched this back and forth, her face going from one to another before she got in on the act. When they started pushing and shoving one another, as again only brothers can get into with no really bad intent? She finally snapped at them.
"Boys! You stop that this instant! We have guests staying over! You two go embarrassing me like this, up north? I'll squash both yer brains out through your ears, with my egg pot! Try me! I said… stop that! Now!"
The two brothers pushed and shoved back into the door of the great-house. Var cheered them, she was into her drinking horn far enough to proclaim it entertainment, and wanted to wager on the outcome. She wanted two to one if she took the littler brother.
Ryeamund chuckled, and tossed his drinking horn back.
"Wife! Leave those two be! The guests are in their horns, and enjoying it!"
Eira came back out, smiling, and sat back down with Ryeamund and Shan back out front once again. Ryeamund couldn't help it.
"Oh. I wager Stuart can not wait to to get a taste of those two in the king's great-house… so, Shan. Tell yer father. Amuse me. Who will you take counsel from, eh? Who will advise you."
"Hmm. Gullina. As you have mother, as your high reckoner? So too do I now have one. I am most fortunate that way. You and mother, naturally. With age comes wisdom. And yes, those two. When they are sober, I would add. And? Odin himself help me, I rather love old man Patch's advice. Then there's always a garten around up north. Gray's council. Why, I'll seek advice anywhere I can get it. As you always said, father. I would take advice from my horse, if I were to profit by it."
"Wife? Not too bad, for his first words. Would you not say so."
"Aye. He's a fine son. They all are, really. The three of them? Make quite a team, you know. One bigger and older, one craftier, and one the high reckoner. Now Shan… if you were farst into it tomorrow. What would your first acts even be? It will happen one day, you know."
"Hmm. Well, the kingdom needs to be secure. I hear it is right now, but best to keep it that way. That seen to? I suppose, my first order of business? Figure out how to get a garten in every village, or to begin trying."
"Husband, are you hearing this? I am well pleased."
"Aye. As are Wulfgar, and the steward, the both of them. To go by their words to me of it."
"Is our great work done, then?"
Ryeamund grumbled.
"Two things left, wife."
"What did we miss, then?"
"Well, the one thing. Grand children. I want to bounce something on my knee? Before I get too many more grays, or the crackling takes me."
"A fine pursuit. Gullina seems healthy enough, for all of that. Judging by the eyes they make? Should happen, in its due course. And… the second?"
"How will you ever break the words, to your precious high reckoning Sheep-shit."
"Break what words to her?"
"She's not in love with this village and everyone in it. She might have to spend time up in the far north. She'll have to be a queen one day, if they get married. How will you ever talk a young girl into that, I wonder."
Eira feigned being perturbed at him, and playfully beat him with her fists.
Ryeamund, full of fun while in his horn, gave her wit for it.
"Unhand me! I'll have you know, that my son is to be the next king! I'll be forced to call the ravins, to defend me!"
"Ha! Call them! My egg pot will work on them, as well!"
The next thing, they were laughing and pushing like children into the doorway, not that long after. Shan was left alone on the porch. His mother had said it, hadn't she. When things finally change, they often change quickly. They certainly had.
Gullina came around the corner, and stood next to him, sitting there. Thinking, still taking it all in.
"Gullina. I was soon going to look for you."
"Aye. No need of it, now."
He looked at the drinking horn, and handed it to her. He didn't really drink very much or often, normally. She sipped at it.
"Gullina?"
"Shan…"
"Were you away?"
"Shan? I was raised by drunken sheep farmers. When the wine comes out? I make myself scarce. Its why I prefer to all but live in the barn, on my parents farm."
"My father is not unruly, when in his goblet. In truth? Men of the village more fear my mother on that count, I would believe."
"Aye. Still? To hide when the wine comes out. That? Is my custom."
"Gullina?"
"Hmm."
"May I ask, where you were hiding?"
"You may…"
"Was it far?"
"Not so far away. I came out the back, and back around. I was just around the corner. I was waiting for everyone to leave, that we might sit again."
Shan waited.
"Did you hear much?"
"Only all of it."
"I was going to wait, to give it to you slowly. In parts. As we went along. You would learn all of it in time, in the course of things."
"I will tell no one. As Var says. The kingdom, has many secrets."
"Aye. So it would seem."
"Shan? The instructors often said. It is rude, to often say the words. I told you such."
"And?"
"I told you that day, when you and your brothers were taking me to buy the clothes. I see it, and you do not."
"What."
"That you were being made into something. Something dangerous."
"Aye. I am as a fool now, I see."
"No. I can guess what your father's, and perhaps even your mother's words would be, were they still here."
"I would hear those words, then."
"Aye. Your father? I can close my eyes, and all but hear his words. Father, why was this done. Why did I have to grow up like this."
"And what would father say, as you reckon it."
Gullina imitated Ryeamund's deep, resonant voice.
"Aye. We can't very well have some spoiled twat upon the throne now, can we."
Shan giggled. It was humorous, as well as likely true.
"That would answer, why it was done, I suppose. And, since you have my father's words now. What would he say of how I had to grow up?"
"I have heard the tale of how your father grew up, I can only assume you have heard it many more times, then. He grew up in the south-lands. He didn't fit in, and the village boys treated him worse than even these boys here, treat you. He says it made him, into what he became."
She paused.
"I once asked your father. Surely you hate them. Do you know what he said?"
"Was I there? How could I."
"He said that while he would certainly not enjoy them? He does not hate them. They were giving him a great geft, though they did not know it. He would not injure them, if he did not have to. They do not really know, than to do any better."
"I suppose he might, at that."
"Aye. Your father, has a way with his words. He said of it… that which did not kill me, made me strong. Would you like me to guess further?"
"Aye."
"Your father wanted to give you that same strength, Shan. Your brothers, as well. You were not made to suffer. You are not a fool. You were given a great geft. A great farstgeft."
A soft but deep voice erupted behind her. It was Ryeamund. They hadn't noticed him, what with all the friendly commotion inside with all the guests.
"I can see now, my wife made a wise choice. Aye. My words? Would have been close to those words, I think. Gullina? Over the days of the festival. Do not be shy, with any of the village girls. You have my leave of it. My wife asked me to tell you this. I believe you know what I speak of."
"Aye."
Ryeamund paused.
"Gullina?"
"Yes."
"Your parents."
"The drunken sheep farmers. What of them?"
"If you do not wish them at the festival? They will not be there. The choice, is yours."
Now it was Gullina's turn to pause.
"I know their ways well. You can trust me on that count. They will quickly grow drunk. They will fall over, and lay in their own piss. I would not have you embarrassed so, in front of your guests from the far north. You are the steward."
"Ha. Gullina? We have drunkards in the far north. It is no matter. The festival? Is your day, as well as Shan's day. As I said, the choice is yours."
"Steward. I thought the day was Gareen's, or perhaps even Mekall's. You and your wife place value on wits, after all."
"Aye, Gullina. We do. May I tell you something?"
"Aye, surely."
"You need not pretend. I was standing just inside this door, and heard your words. As you heard mine, a short time ago."
Gullina froze.
"I did not mean to---"
Ryeamund chuckled.
"All is well, girl. Your parents, then. As I said, the choice is yours. Your parents? They keep a wary eye out, for my wife. If me and Lady Eira were to guess? You will have to send for them, if you wish them there. Or? Simply do not."
"Aye, steward. I do not yet know."
"Take your time. Decide. Or? Do not, and let them do as they will. They matter not, any longer. If you take my words."
"I do."
"One more thing, Gullina."
"Aye, steward?"
"You are all but family. You need take no care with your words to me. Even in front of the other villagers. My name is Ryeamund. Or Rye. You can even say Little Rye, as my wife often does. I am sure the village girls will marvel at such. Enjoy it. Oh. I almost forgot. We intend for you to sit at our table. With me and my wife and my sons. And remember. You have our leave, if you do not wish to be shy with the village girls."
"Aye."
Ryeamund went back in.
"Shan, what would you do now. Do you wish to go back in there?"
"I would not mind it, yet… I am not well used to all the noise and commotion. Perhaps you are well used to it, from working at the tavern."
"Would you rather go for a ride?"
"It is night."
"Aye. It is a pleasant night, is it not?"
"Very much. And I mean not only the weather."
"So? Come with me, then."
He took her fingers she held out and wiggled in his face. They walked out to the barn. A Ravin was at the barn door. He smiled and nodded to them. He passed his hand over his head. Shan and Gullina looked back, and saw another one pass the signal back to the first.
When Shan made to get two horses ready for them, Gullina stopped him. Shan quickly figured out, that she hadn't meant riding the horses at night, when she suggested a night ride.