While doubtless correct, the idea of an elvish wizard with a spectroscope was funny enough to restore a balance in Holger. He startled his comrades by laughing aloud. “Well,” he said, a bit astonished at his own callousness, “let’s see what we’ve got.”
He knelt and opened the visor. Hollowness gaped at him. The armor was empty. It must have been empty all the time.
7
FAERIE SEEMED A WILDERNESS, hills and woods and uncultivated valleys. Holger asked a much subdued Hugi what its inhabitants lived on. The dwarf explained that they magicked up some of their food and drink, and got some from other realms in the Middle World tributary to them, and hunted some among the weird beasts which prowled their domain. All of them seemed to be warriors and sorcerers, their menial work done by slaves taken from the goblins, kobolds, and other backward tribes. Further questions revealed that the Pharisees knew not old age or illness, but were said to lack souls. They would not be the most pleasant company imaginable, Holger thought.
Trying to find solid mental ground and forget that hollow armor lying in the field of asphodels, he began to theorize. He had only a fair knowledge of physics and mathematics, but he should be able to make some intelligent guesses. There had to be a rationale for this world!
Both the similarities to home, such as the constellations, and the differences, such as now encompassed him, ruled out the possibility of another planet in space. In the same space as his own, that is. The ordinary laws of nature, like gravity and chemical combination, appeared to obtain; but here they apparently had clauses permitting, well, magic. Conceivably the magic was nothing but a direct mental control of matter. Even where he came from, some people believed in telepathy, telekinesis, and so forth. In this world, under certain conditions, mental forces could perhaps be stronger than inorganic ones... He had gotten thus far when he realized that he had gotten nowhere, merely given a different name to the same set of phenomena.
Well, be that as it may, where was he? Or should he ask when was he? Another Earth? Maybe two objects could occupy the same space at the same time without interacting with each other. Which meant two entire starry universes could. Any number of universes. He had fallen into one such: one so parallel to his own—in spite of the differences—that there must be some link between them. How?
He sighed and gave up. First things first. Right now he had to keep alive in a land where a good many beings had it in for one who bore three hearts and three lions.
The castle grew slowly out of twilight. Its walls rose dizzily high, the roofs all peaks and angles, overtopped with soaring thin towers: a wild beauty, like ice on a winter forest. The white stone seemed lacy, so fragile that a breath would dissolve it, but as he approached Holger saw how massive the walls were. A moat surrounded the hill on which the castle stood, and though no river emptied therein, the water circled endlessly chiming.
Not far away stood another hill, covered with roses, half hidden by streamers of mist, but seeming to have the shape of a woman’s breast. Hugi pointed to it. “Yon’s Elf Hill,” he said, very low. “Inside there do the elves hold their unco revels, and come oot o’ ’t to dance o’ moonlicht nichts.” In the background, a forest so dark that Holger could scarcely see individual trees stretched north, south, and east. “There in Mirkwood do the Pharisee lairds hunt griffin and manticore,” whispered Hugi.
A trumpet sounded from the castle, far and cold, like rushing water. Now they’ve seen us, Holger thought. He dropped a hand to his sword. Alianora fluttered down to turn human beside him. Her expression was grave.
“You and Hugi—” He cleared his throat. “You’ve guided me here, and I thank you a thousand times. But now perhaps you’d best go.”
She looked up at him. “Nay,” she said after a moment, “I think we’ll stay a bit. Mayhap we can help ye.”
“I’m no one to you,” he faltered. “You don’t owe me a thing, while I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
The gray eyes remained serious. “Methinks ye’re summat more than no one, e’en if ye dinna ken it yoursel’,” she murmured. “I’ve a feeling about ye, Sir Holger. So I, at least, will stay.”
“Well,” puffed Hugi, though not so happily, “ye didna think I’d turn caitiff noo, did ye?”
Holger didn’t urge them. He’d done his duty, offering them an excuse to leave; and God, was he glad they hadn’t taken it!
The castle gates opened and the drawbridge came down, noiselessly. Trumpets blew again. A troop rode forth with banner and scutcheon, plume and lance, to meet him. He reined in and waited, his hand tight around his own spear. So these were the masters of Faerie.
They were clad in colors that seemed luminous against the twilight, crimson, gold, purple, green, but the hue of each garment shimmered and flickered and changed from moment to moment. Some wore chain mail or plate, argent metal elaborately shaped and chased; others had robes and coronets. They were a tall people, moving with a liquid grace no human could rival, nor even a cat. A cold haughtiness marked their features, which were of a strange cast, high tilted cheekbones, winged nostrils, narrow chin. Their skin was white, their long fine hair blue-silver, most of the men beardless. When they got close enough, Holger thought at first they were blind, for the oblique eyes held only an azure blankness. But he soon realized their vision was better than his.
The leader halted and bowed a little in his stirrups. “Welcome, Sir Knight,” he said. His voice was beautiful to hear, more like song than speech. “I hight Alfric, Duke of Alfarland in the Kingdom of Faerie. ’Tis not oft that mortal men come to guest us.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The polished phrases fell of themselves from Holger’s lips. “The witch Mother Gerd, who I believe is a humble servant of yours, commended me to your grace. She thought belike your wisdom could solve a grief of mine, so hither I came to beg the favor.”
“Ah, so. Well met, then. I bid you and your servitors remain for as long as it pleasures you, and shall strive to aid a gentleman of your standing with what power I may have.”
My standing? Holger reflected that the thing which attacked him was undoubtedly a creature of the Duke’s. Three hearts and three lions didn’t seem at all popular in the Middle World. The question was, did Alfric now understand that Holger wasn’t the man he had wanted killed? And whether he knew it or not, what went on behind that smooth chill face?
“I thank your grace,” said Holger aloud.
“It pains me that I must bid you leave cross and iron outside, but you know the unfortunate weakness of our race,” said Alfric urbanely. “Fear not, you shall be given arms in exchange.”
“In your stronghold, my lord, can be nothing to fear,” said Holger and thought what a liar he was becoming.
Alianora shifted from foot to small foot. “I’ll watch your stuff, Holger,” she said. “I’d liefer stay outdoors anyway.”
Alfric and the other Pharisees turned their wide blank eyes on her. “’Tis the swan-may of whom we have heard,” smiled the Duke. “Nay, fair damsel, we would be ill hosts did we not offer you too a roof.”
She shook her ruddy head stubbornly. A frown touched Alfric’s brow. “Wouldst not refuse?” he breathed.
“Wouldst,” snapped Alianora.
“I’ll abide oot here wi’ her,” said Hugi quickly.