Hugi broke into hoarse bawdy song. To match him, Holger rendered such ballads as “The Highland Tinker” and “The Bastard King of England,” translating with an ease that surprised himself. The dwarf guffawed. Holger had begun “Les Trois Orfevres” when a shadow fell on him and he looked up to see the swan circling above, listening with interest. He choked.
“Eigh, do go on,” urged Hugi. “’Tis a rare bouncy song.”
“I’ve forgotten the rest,” said Holger weakly.
He dreaded facing Alianora when they stopped for lunch. That was by a thicket which shielded a cave mouth. The girl came lightly toward him in human form. “Ye’ve a tuneful way wi’ ye, Sir Holger,” she smiled.
“Ummmm... thank you,” he mumbled.
“I would ye could recollect wha’ happened to the three goldsmiths,“ she said. “’ Twas rude o’ ye to leave them there on the rooftop.”
He stole a look at her. The gray eyes were wholly candid. Well, if she’d spent her life among the earthy little people— He didn’t have the nerve, though. “I’ll try to remember,” he said falsely.
The brush rustled behind them and they saw a creature emerge from the cave. At first Holger thought it was deformed, then he decided it must be a normal member of a nonhuman race. The body was somewhat taller than Hugi and much broader, with muscular arms hanging to the bent knees; the head was big and round, flat-nosed, with pointed ears and a gash of a mouth; the skin was hairless and gray. “Why, ’tis Unrich,” cried Alianora. “I thocht no ye denned this far upland.”
“Oh, Ay git aroon, Ay do.” The being hunkered down and regarded Holger with circular eyes. He wore only a leather apron, and carried a hammer. “We-un bin a-drayvin’ a new shaft thisaboots.” He waved at the surrounding territory. “Thar’s gold in them thar hills.”
“Unrich belongs wi’ the nickels,” explained Alianora. Holger concluded that must be a tribe of mountain dwarfs rather than a class of coins or a series of alloys. “I got to ken him through the badger families.”
The newcomer was as avid for gossip as everyone here seemed to be. Holger’s tale must be recounted from the beginning. At the end the nickel shook his head and spat. “’Tis naw so canny a steadin’ ye’re boon fawr,” he said. “An’ roight noo, too, when the Middle World is marshalin’ all uns hosts.”
“Aye,” said Hugi, “’tis a cold welcome we micht get at Alfric’s.”
“They do say elves an’ trolls ha’ made allayance,” said Unrich. “An’ when them thar clans get together, ’tis suthin’ big afoot.’
Alianora frowned. “I mislike this,” she said to Holger. “Sorceries go ever more boldly abroad, even into the heart o’ the Empire, I hear. ’Tis as if a bulwark o’ Law has been taken away, so that Chaos can freely flow out over the world.”
“That wuz a holy spell put on Cortana, but noo ’tis berried away fro’ soight o’ man, an’ none able to wield it were it dug up,” said Unrich with a certain pessimistic relish.
Cortana , thought Holger. Where had he heard that name before?
Unrich reached in a pocket of his apron and, to Holger’s surprise, drew out a stubby clay pipe and a sack of something that looked like tobacco. Striking fire with flint and steel, he inhaled deep. Holger watched wistfully.
“That’s a dragonish trick, yon fire-breathing,” said Hugi.
“Ay loike un,” said Unrich.
“And quite rightly, too,” said Holger. “‘—a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.’”
They stared at him. “I ne’er heard o’ mankind playing demon thus,” said Alianora.
“Lend me a pipe,” said Holger; “and see!”
“This is too guid to miss.” Unrich ducked back in his cave and returned presently with a large briar. Holger tamped, got a light, and blew happy clouds. He didn’t think he was smoking tobacco, it was strong as the very devil, but no worse than stuff he’d had in France before the war or Denmark during. Hugi and Unrich goggled at him. Alianora went into peals of laughter.
“How much do you want for this?” asked Holger. “I’ll swap you a spare cloak for the pipe, with flint and steel and a pouch of tobac—of smoking-leaf.”
“Done!” said Unrich at once. Holger realized he could have made a better bargain. Oh, well.
“Ye micht have the decency to throw in some food for us,” said Alianora.
“Wull, sith ’tis yew what ask.” Unrich disappeared again. Alianora looked commiseratingly at Holger. “Ye men are scarce a practick breed,” she sighed.
With a load of bread, cheese, and smoked meat they set off again. Though the country grew yet steeper and wilder, Papillon seemed tireless. The gloom in the east rose before them as they proceeded, like a vague wall. Near evening, they halted at what must be the crest of the range; below, the thinly begrown hills swooped down toward pine woods. Alianora set deftly to work building a shelter of plaited withes, while Hugi prepared supper and Holger felt useless. But he enjoyed watching the girl move about.
“Tomorrow,” she said, as they sat around the fire after nightfall, “we’ll enter Faerie. After that, ’tis in the hands o’ fate.”
“What makes it so dark in that direction?” asked Holger.
Alianora stared at him. “Truly ye’re from afar off, or else a spell is on ye,” she said. “All folk know the Pharisees canna endure broad daylight, so ’tis forever twilit in their realm.” She winced. The firelight etched her young face redly against wind-whining blackness. “If Chaos wins, mayhap yon dusk will be laid on the whole world, and no more o’ bricht sunshine and green leaves and blossoms. Aye, I suppose indeed I am with Law.” She paused. “And yet does Faerie have an eldritch beauty. Ye’ll see for yourself.’”
Holger looked across the blaze at her. The light shone in her eyes, stroked her hair and the gentle curves of her body, then wove her a mantle of shadow. “If I am not being rude,” he ventured. “I can’t understand why a pretty girl like you should live in the wilds among... among others than your own kind.”
“Oh, ’tis no hard riddle.” She gazed into the coals. He could barely hear her voice above the night wind. “The dwarfs found me as a babe lying in the forest. Belike I was some crofter’s child, stolen in the harrying which ever goes through these marches. The robbers thought to raise me for a slave, then wearied o’ the idea and left me. So the little folk, and the animals their oath-brethren, raised me up. They were good and kind, and they taught me a mickle. In the end they gave me this swan dress, which they say once belonged to the Valkyries. By its power, I, though not shapestrong born but o’ common human sort, may change as ye’ve seen; and thus I may dwell safe. Now go whither ye will, said the dwarfs. But I couldna care much for the smoky halls o’ men. My friends were here, and the space and sky I maun have to be glad. That is the whole o’ ’t.”
Holger nodded, slowly.
She glanced back at him. “But ye’ve told us only a whit about yoursel’,” she said with an unsteady smile. “Where be your home, and how came ye hither without traversing lands o’ men or Middle World and learning wha’ they were?”
“I wish I knew,” said Holger.
He wanted to tell her the whole story, but thrust the impulse back. She probably couldn’t understand any part of it. Besides, he might be wise to have some secrets in reserve. “I think a spell was laid on me,” he said. “I lived so far off that we’d never heard of any of these places. All at once, here I was.”
“What micht your realm be called?” she insisted.
“Denmark.” He swore at himself when she exclaimed: