Hell, everything pointed to the other world’s not even being his own. He belonged here, in this Carolingian universe; the other had been a place of exile. In so many ways this was a better and cleaner abode—No, said his stubborn truthfulness, that wasn’t fair. This cosmos had its own drawbacks. But simply by virtue of being different, didn’t it promise him more adventure and opportunity than the best of the other earth?
A sunbeam straggling in a window touched Alianora’s locks with fire. He’d never known a girl like her. If he chucked this whole stupid quest and went off with her, he could just about write his own ticket. King of the woods, or he could doubtless carve himself a realm in these turbulent borderlands, or if he wanted high civilization he could go with her to the Empire and—
And what? Chaos was still readying for battle. He thought of Alianora’s idea that the Pharisees might draw their own twilight across the whole planet. He remembered what Morgan had mentioned about heedless play with worlds and suns, about men and their homes and hopes engulfed in destruction.
No, he really had no choice. No honorable man did, in such a time. He must do his best to get Cortana and give the weapon back to its rightful owner, or wield it himself if he was the one. Afterward, if there was an afterward, he could decide whether to continue attempting a return across the universes.
He looked up. “I’ll go,” he said.
“We will,” corrected Alianora.
“As you wish,” said Martinus gently. “And I pray for your fortune, Sir Holger. God be with you, God be with you, for I think you ride on behalf of us all.”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Then he donned a smile, rubbed his hands, and said, “Well, so much for that. Now about the bill, since you are bound on a perilous journey, I trust you wish to settle such matters at once?”
“Um, uh,” said Holger.
“We’ve no the brass now,” said Alianora. “But if ye’ll send the score later, I’ll see ’tis paid.”
“I’d say you have plenty of brass,” Martinus bridled. “See here, this shop does not give credit and—”
“But your sign says you can conjure up ever-filled purses,” Holger began.
“Advertising,” Martinus admitted. “Corroborative detail intended to lend artistic verisimilitude.”
“Oh, come, dear old friend.” Alianora smiled and took the magician’s hand. “Ye’d no dun the man who’s about to save the whole world, would ye? Why, your runes be your own share in the great emprise. They’ll sing your name for aye.”
“That won’t pay my creditors,” protested Martinus.
“Ah, but is ’t no true that a noble deed is worth many riches?” Alianora stroked his cheek.
“Well,” faltered Martinus, “there are words to that effect in Scripture, but—”
“Oh, my friend, thank ye! I knew ye’d agree! Thank ye!”
“But,” bleated Martinus. “But you can’t—I won’t allow—”
“Nay, nay, no another word from ye. I wouldna dream o’ taking more help than ye’ve already gi’en. Farewell, sweet man.” Alianora kissed him roundly and, before he could recover, hustled Holger out of the shop.
Women! thought the Dane.
When they got back to the inn, they found Carahue lounging in the courtyard. He rose and bowed. “Your dwarfish companion intimated you would soon resume your travels, mademoiselle and Sir Rupert,” he said.
“Yes,” said Holger. He caught the landlord’s fishy glance and added, “Maybe.”
Carahue stroked his beard with a slim bejeweled hand. “Might I make bold to ask which way you fare?”
“North, I guess.”
“Into the wilds? Truly a memorable adventure, if anyone survive to remember.”
“I told you I’ve made a vow,” grunted Holger.
“Pray pardon, friend,” said Carahue. “ ’Twould be discourteous to ask further when you are reluctant to speak. Yet may I offer some counsel? If you wish to preserve the secret of your goal, leave not quite so much room for speculation. Tongues will wag more when no firm facts bind them. Thus, some folk will guess you intend a knightly exploit like slaying one of the trolls which infest yonder uplands, often—as I’ve heard—stealing humans to eat; though the local people with whom I’ve chatted maintain such trolls are unkillable. Then again, other folk will insist that Sir Rupert went to beard the king of the heathen. But the peasant mind being what ’tis, most will believe you seek a treasure of gold buried somewhere there. And yet, how reconcile any of these objectives with the young lady’s accompaniment of you? So folk will gab in idle hours, and the tale will spread like wildfire. If you’d hush the gossip, you must give a solid reason, preferably such an uncanny one that people would liefer not mention the affair.”
Alianora fell for the line and blurted, “Och, ’tis a kittle enough journey, to the damned kirk o’ St. Grimmin’s.”
Holger covered as best he might, “I swore a pilgrimage thither, in hopes of, uh, recovering what churchly vessels might remain. I, uh, I’d rather not speak about it because, uh, the reason for the penance is one I’d rather not speak about.”
“Ah, so. Forgive me.” The Saracen’s gaze rested inscrutably on Holger. “Do you know, that’s one part where I never thought to carry my own search? It seemed unlikely my man would appear there, when he returned. Yet now you make me wonder if indeed he might not. Besides, if I could help in a virtuous enterprise, my credit in Heaven would perchance rise above its present woeful level. Good company shortens the miles, to say naught of making them less dangerous. Perhaps we could travel together?”
Alianora traded a look with Holger. You know him, said her eyes. You must decide.
He hesitated. “There are more than bodily dangers,” he said. “I think we may encounter black magic.”
Carahue waved a negligent hand. “Your sword is straight and mine is curved.” He smiled. “So between them they should fit any shape of foe.”
Holger tugged his chin. He could certainly use another man. At the same time he knew Carahue must have reasons for dealing himself in.
Could he be an agent of Chaos? That was possible, but Holger’s half-memories, which he was coming more and more to trust, said otherwise. He put himself in the Moor’s place: out hunting an important man for some important purpose, failing, and then encountering another knightly vagabond with a rather thin story. Yes, memory said Carahue had that kind of mind, a curiosity which darted everywhere. Besides, he might well have guessed that Sir Rupert of Graustark had some connection with the person he himself sought: might perhaps know where that person was. Even if that turned out to be wrong, the uplands were worth a search. In every event Carahue had sound motives to string along with Sir Rupert.
“I very much wish the favor of your company,” urged the Saracen. “Still more, of course, the favor of yours, most charming damsel. So much do I wish this that if you will agree of your great kindness, I shall insist on your being my guests as from last night... No, no, protest not, I’ll hear of nothing less.”
Holger and Alianora gave him a look which he returned blandly. He must be pretty damn sure they were broke, and laughing up his flowing sleeve. Still, the prospect of leaving Tarnberg without having to fight the landlord was well-nigh irresistible.
“Done!” Holger stuck out his hand. Carahue grasped it. “Shall we swear comradeship?”