“I mean after Siniava. Do you think we get no word at all?”
“Lady—I don’t know if you can understand—” Aliam’s hands knotted together.
“I understand evil well enough,” she said crisply, “even in my own family. It stinks the same everywhere.”
“I would plead, Lady, that things happened which rubbed the same scars. When Siniava tortured his men and mine at Dwarfwatch—”
“Lord Halveric, there is always an excuse. I know that. Such a man does not do wrong for no reason. But there are always reasons. Are we to set him on a throne—in this kingdom, set between Tsaia and Prealith and the Ladysforest—to have him find excuses to turn mercenaries free in the forest, as he turned Alured free? You will pardon my saying this: I know of your son Caliam’s loss; I know how that angered you. Had it been only the torturing of Siniava—”
“But they didn’t!” Paks burst out. “They didn’t—”
“Because you withheld them, isn’t that so?”
“Well—yes—but—”
“If you want to talk policy with elves, Paksenarrion, you must be ready to see all the truth and speak it.” She turned back to Aliam. “Had it been only that, I would worry little. But you know—all of you here know—that it went farther than that. Much farther. We do not want—I do not want—the man who helped Alured reduce the coastal cities to show the same character in Lyonya. We would agree to no one’s rule, who had done such things, elf or human. Elf least of all, for in this realm where so many fear us, even hate us, an elf’s misrule could finally breach that old agreement between human and sinyi. Should we prove ourselves what so many already say we are? Arrogant, cold, uncaring, quick to anger? Should we risk confusion with the iynisin, to give space to his taste for cruelty?”
“Lady, no!” Again Paks broke in. “Please—let me tell you what I know of my own experience—”
The Lady looked at her without smiling. “Paksenarrion, I will listen. But I realize he is capable of love, and caring, for a few. You remind him of his wife, I daresay, or even his daughter; you have seen the private side of tenderness which all but the worst men have. As a king, it is the other side, the outer, that concerns us here.” Paks, immersed in the power that flowed from the Lady as steadily as water from a spring, inexhaustible, nonetheless found herself able to perceive more clearly what indeed the elven nature was, and what its limitations. Firstborn, eldest of the Elder Races, immortal, wise as the years bring wisdom, elves were due reverence for all this . . . and yet not gods or demigods, however powerful. Created a choir of lesser singers by the First Singer, they were so imbued with harmony that they endured conflict only in brief encounters, resolving such discords quickly, in victory or retreat. It was not weakness or cowardice that made them withdraw, again and again, when evil stalked their lands, but that they were made for another purpose. This was their gift, with living things or elements or pattern itself to repattern into beauty, endlessly and with delight. From this came their mastery of healing, of the growing of plants, the shaping of the taigin, for they alone, of all peoples of the world, could grasp the entire interwoven pattern of life the High Lord designed, and play with it, creating new designs without damage to the fabric. So also they enchanted mortal minds, embroidering on reality the delicate patterns of their imaginings.
Yet powerful as they were, as powerful as music that brings heart-piercing pain, tears, laughter, with its enchantments, they were as music, subordinate to their own creator. Humans need not, Paks saw, worship their immortality, their cool wisdom, their knowledge of the taig, their ability to repattern mortal perceptions. In brief mortal lives humans met challenges no elf could meet, learned strategies no elf could master, chose evil or good more direct and dangerous than elf could perceive. Humans were shaped for conflict, as elves for harmony; each needed the other’s balance of wisdom, but must cleave to its own nature. It was easy for an immortal to counsel patience, withdrawal until a danger passed . . .
She took courage, therefore, and felt less the Lady’s weight of age and experience. That experience was elven, and not all to her purpose. Kieri Phelan himself was but half-elven; his right to kingship came with his mortal blood. And as she found herself regarding the Lady with less awe, but no less respect, the Lady met her eyes with dawning amazement.
“I will grant your ideas,” Paks began slowly. “Others have said I look much like Tamarrion. It may well be that he has turned a kinder face to me than to strangers. But I am not speaking—now—of his treatment of me.” The Lady nodded, and Paks described the Duke’s generosity to his own, from recruits to veterans, and to others who had served him, however briefly.
“That last year—” Paks took a breath before she said it. “He was wrong, Lady. I will say that, and Lord Halveric knows I bear the Duke no grudge. He was wrong to support Alured as long as he did; I think from what I saw that he was unhappy about it, but had given his word, not knowing what Alured would do. Any man is wrong to be unjust, whenever he is. But did you not say, a little bit ago, that you had been wrong? And the Halverics said they had been wrong.”
The Lady stiffened; Paks heard the Halverics gasp. Before the heavens fell, she rushed on.
“He was wrong then; I have been wrong, too. But he has asked the Marshals of Gird back, Lady, and apologized for sending them away. He said before the whole Company that he had erred, that he had been hasty in anger. Does that sound like an arrogant man, a man eager to judge harshly, delighting in cruelty?”
The Lady sat long without answering; twice Paks opened her mouth to speak, and shut it again, fearing she had already said too much. Finally she gave a little shake, like someone waking from a reverie, and turned to Paks with a smile.
“It speaks well of any man to gain the love and respect of a paladin. You are not lying about this, though you may have put the best face on it that you could. I did not know he had called in the Marshals. If he admitted his errors—then—I have less fear, though I am not confident. At least he might not be an evil king.”
“Kieri’s a Knight of Falk, too,” said Aliam. “At least, he was knighted, though he never took the vows and wears no ruby. Good thing, too, or it’d have given him a fit of conscience when he became a Girdsman.”
“He’s not a Girdsman,” said Paks.
“What? Of course he is—or was—and I suppose is again, if he’s made his peace with them.”
Paks shook her head. “No, my lord. He talked to the Marshal-General in my presence. He supported Tamarrion in the Fellowship, and encouraged it, but he never took the vows. He told the Marshal-General that he had always felt withheld from such vows.”
The Lady sat forward, eyes bright. “He said what? Say exactly what you remember, Paksenarrion.”
“He said that he had been drawn to both—to Falk and to Gird—but that he felt something about other vows awaiting him, and he could not swear with a free heart. And the Marshal-General told her Marshals that she was content—that she did not seek his vows.”
“Ahh.”
“But why does that matter?” Paks looked at her curiously.
“I am not sure. If it means what it could mean—” the Lady smiled again, and shook her head. “I speak in riddles, you think, as elves are wont to do. Indeed I do, for I have nothing but surmises. But if—and remember that I said if—what has withheld him from these vows is a memory of his true nature, even a slight memory, that can be, perhaps, restored.”
“But I thought Lyonyan kings could be Falkians—can’t they?”
“It has been so—and true of the last two kings, indeed. They were but human. A king of elven heritage, aware of the taig by that blood, would follow the High Lord, as you call him, directly.” She sighed, then moved her shoulders. “You have told me much I did not know. It may be that he can become king. I accept, Paksenarrion, your description of your quest: to find the true king of Lyonya and restore him. I accept your decision to prove my grandson, whom you know as Duke Phelan, by the sword’s test. But before I agree to his crowning, I wish to see him myself. If he can become what he was meant to become, my powers will aid him. If not—we shall hope for better things than I fear.”