And not only Hub. Andor had visited great cities uncounted. He had traveled the far south and seen devastation wrought by dragons. For so young a man, he had visited an incredible list of places. He had been to Faerie itself, bathing on its golden beaches, paying a silver penny for a ride on a hippogryff. He had met gnomes and dwarves and elves. He had haggled for tapestries in crowded bazaars and edged along walls in sinister alleyways; he had watched beautiful slave girls dance before their masters in opulent courts. He had sailed the Summer Sea in barques with silken sails curved by the scented winds. He had wept at the baleful song of merfolk lamenting a dying moon.
He had also sat long hours in this rough wooden attic and talked of cannibal islands and castles of glass, of unicorns, of elven trees that touched the clouds and of the jeweled cities nestling on their boughs, of enormous animals with noses long enough to wrap around a man and pick him up, of floating sea monsters so huge that men built houses on their backs and cultivated gardens there, of volcanoes in eruption and hot springs in which the locals boiled whole oxen for feastings and the guests afterward for entertainment. He had described the lairs of trolls and ancient ruins half digested by desert sands. Talking statues and mirror pools that showed the future were familiar to him, and he knew many tales of wonders greater yet.
Why?
Only once had Rap even dared to ask why? Why was Andor his friend? Why did Andor help him, keep him company, tell him of the wonders of the world, and even assist in his education?
What, he had inquired diffidently, was in it for Andor?
Andor had laughed. “For friendship! The others are only acquaintances. And because I admire courage more than anything in the world.”
“Courage? Me?”
“Remember the first time we met?” Andor had asked in apparent seriousness. “I had just arrived with the caravan, and a blizzard had just arrived, also. I was looking forward to a comfortable bath and a hot bed. I discovered that the tide had closed the causeway and there was a crisis on. I didn’t understand, but I made it my business to find out, because I’m nosy. It wasn’t difficult to locate Foronod and see that he was the boss. And then he sent for a boy! I said to myself, This man is crazy! But he asked you if you could guide the wagons and you didn’t say Sure!'—which a fool might have done. You didn’t whimper excuses. You looked over the problem and set that big jaw of yours and said, 'I’ll try! And then I said to myself, 'He means he’ll try his damndest. And this Foronod hasn’t sent for a boy; he’s sent for a man!'”
“Oh!” Then Rap had hoped he was not blushing, for he had felt immensely pleased that Andor of all men should think that of him.
“And then I picked.you!”
“You did. And I nearly panicked, right there. But you weren’t just risking your own neck. Any fool can do that. You were going to carry the whole town. That takes a backbone stiffer than most men’s. So I decided if you had that kind of courage to lead, I would have the courage to follow you. So I did.”
And although Rap could hardly dare to believe that explanation, he had never asked again. If he made Andor think more about the matter, then Andor might come to the correct conclusion. He might just say “You’re right; there is nothing in it for me,” and leave.
But Rap was thinking over the problem now, for Andor was being uncharacteristically silent, passing the bottle back and forth in silence, staring moodily at the floor. Usually he was irresistibly good company, leaving no time for Rap to brood. This day he seemed to have a problem. Was he thinking of all the festivities going on, the dozens of parties at which he would be welcome, so long as he did not arrive with Rap in tow?
Then Andor looked up and grinned. “Drunk enough yet?”
“For what?”
“I want a promise. I’m going to tell you a secret and I want your promise not to tell anyone. Ever.”
“You have it. Drunk or sober.”
“Don’t be so rash! Suppose I told you I was planning to kill the king?” Andor’s eyes twinkled, reflecting the candle flame.
“You wouldn’t.”
“All right, here goes. I’ve never told anyone this, though.” He held the bottle up to examine its contents. “You and I have something in common. We both have a word.”
Rap’s heart crawled out of a chrysalis and gently opened butterfly wings. “You have farsight, also?”
Andor guffawed. “If you knew how many collar studs I lose, you wouldn’t ask! No, not farsight.”
The wings were folded away again.
“Then what’s your talent?”
Andor grinned more widely. “Girls!”
“Oh!” Rap knew that he must not show his distaste, or he would seem like a narrow-minded provincial, Andor was a sophisticated citizen of the Impire. Rap knew of his reputation, but he had always thought it to be mostly jealous gossip, wild exaggeration like the stories of men being kicked to jelly in alleyway brawls. He would certainly not believe that of Andor, even if the girl’s part were true. “I’d be willing to trade,” he said.
“Not likely!”
“But why are you telling me this? Why aren’t you out exercising your talent? All the girls are in holiday mood.”
“You’re probably not drunk enough yet, but I’ll risk it. I’m leaving.”
Rap’s first thought was one of despair. Krasnegar seemed suddenly unthinkable without Andor. “What? Why?”
The bottle was thrust back at him. “Take a big drink. Listen! I’m leaving, because I’m bored. I thought a winter in the north would be exciting, but it’s dull as shelling peas.”
“Who’s going with you?”
Andor shrugged. “I’ve knocked about the world a lot. I thought I’d just take a horse and go.”
“You’re crazy! Mad! Mad! Mad! What about the green men?”
Andor shrugged, took the bottle back, and stretched out his legs. “I’ve been asking about them. I’m told that one man is usually safe. Goblins respect courage and they honor a solitary traveler. A group may get into trouble.”
“Fingernails!” Rap shuddered. Goblins murdered travelers in horrible ways. It was said they would hand a man a pair of tongs and demand a fingernail as road toll. If he had the courage to pull out one of his own fingernails, they would let him go. If he didn’t—they didn’t.
“The only alternative is an armed escort, at least a dozen. Better two dozen. And I can’t afford to hire that many.”
“Andor, this is the northland. The cold is a killer. It’s not like hiking across a desert or somewhere warm. You should take someone with some experience.”
There was a pause while the candle flame danced in silence.
“I have a better idea,” Andor said. “By the way, merry Winterfest!” He pointed to the bundle on the bed.
“You shouldn’t have!” Miserably Rap leaned elbows on knees and buried his face in his hands. From the wine or from embarrassment, he felt sick.
“Will the boots fit? A man’s feet are usually the first part of him to stop growing.”
“They look all right.” Rap did not even turn his head to look at the bundle—mukluks and fur trousers wrapped in a parka, fur from young polar bears, lined with the down of ducks… garments of a quality he could never hope to own in his lifetime. He did not have to open the damned parcel. “It’s very, very kind of you, Andor. No one’s given me a Winterfest present since my mother died. But what could I give you in exchange? Horse buns?”