was closed and everyone gone.
I know more about it than most because my father was one of that hunting party. I nodded. So did Ivar.
“And no news of Prince Alasdair ever after, I believe, sire,” Ivar said.
The High King lifted his head and gazed into the coals of the brazier a moment. “As to that,” he said, “we are not sure. No, indeed, we are not sure. Rumours, and rumours of rumours, continue to reach us. The last words were so definite that it seems to us and to all our advisors that there must be a crack or so in the wall between Chaldea and Logra.”
“And those words are, sire?” asked my aunt.
“That the spell can be breached and Prince Alasdair rescued,” the High King answered, “and that the answer can be found if a Wise Woman journeys from Skarr, through Bernica and Gallis, and enters Logra with a man from each island. This would seem to mean you, my lady Beck.”
“It does indeed,” my aunt replied drily. “And where are these words from, sire?”
“From a number of quarters,” said King Farlane. “As various as a fishing village at the east of Skarr, word from two of the five kings and queens in Bernica, and two priests and a hermit in Gallis.”
“Hm.” My aunt unwrapped her hands from her knees and put her chin in one. “The words always the same?” she asked.
“Almost exactly,” said the High King.
There was a moment of silence, in which I wondered what would become of me if Aunt Beck went off to Logra and never came back. The only good thing I could see was that no one would require me to go down to the Place then.
Then, as Aunt Beck drew in breath, almost certainly ready to say “Nonsense!”, the High King – whose gift, I was beginning to see, was to put his word in at the right moment – spoke again. He said, “Our plans are made, Wise Beck. You and your apprentice leave secretly this evening. We have a boat waiting for you over the hills in the pool of Illay, and our captain has our orders to sail for Bernica while we and our court journey back to Dromray, giving out that you are with us. This will deceive any spies.”
I have seldom seen my aunt discomposed, and never so discomposed as then. Her chin shot up out of her hand. “Go now?” she said. She looked from the sick king to the hearty, well one, King Kenig, and then to the Priest, the Dominie and Donal sitting admiring his bracelets again. There was almost panic in her face as she realised they were all in this together. She looked up at the expressionless men behind the High King’s chair. She even glanced at the Queen who, like Donal, was playing with a bracelet. “Aileen is too young to go,” she said. “She’s not even initiated yet.”
“She has heard our council,” the High King said gently. “If you like, we can take her to Dromray, but she must be closely confined there.”
I found my face jumping around from King Farlane to my aunt. It is awful when you sit there thinking the talk is all distant politics and then suddenly find it is going to change your whole life. I was on pins.
“I can’t go tonight,” my aunt said. “I have no clothes for the journey.”
The Queen spoke for the first time, smiling. “We thought of that,” she said. “We have clothes already packed for you and Aileen.”
Aunt Beck glanced from me to the Queen, but she still gave no indication of what she was going to do with me. Instead, she said politely, “Thank you, Mevenne. But I still can’t go. I have livestock to feed in my house – six hens, two pigs and the cow. I can’t let them die of neglect.”
“We thought of that too,” said King Kenig jovially. “My henwoman will take the hens and Ian the piper will see to the rest. Face it, Beck, you’re off to save all Chaldea, woman, even if it is at short notice.”
“So I see,” said my aunt. She took another unloving look around the various faces. “In that case,” she said, “Aileen goes with me.” I was so overwhelmed at this that I only heard it as if from a distance, Aunt Beck adding, “Who is to go with me? Who is the man from the island of Skarr?”
The High King replied, “Prince Ivar is that man, naturally.”
I was jolted from my rapt state by Ivar’s great hoarse cry of “Wha-at!”
“You have, like young Aileen, heard all our plans,” King Farlane pointed out.
“But,” said Ivar, “I only have to set foot in a boat and I get sick as a dog! You know I do!” he said accusingly to his mother. He leapt to his feet emotionally. Ivar never conceals his feelings. This is what I admire in him – although I must say at that moment I was less than admiring. His sword whirled as he jumped up and its scabbard hit me quite a thwack on the shoulder.
“Your sword,” Donal said, “is for the defence of the ladies, Ivar. This is your opportunity to behave like a gentleman for once.”
Donal is often unkind to his brother. I could see that he was pleased at Ivar’s dismay. This is one of the many things I dislike about Donal. But I could see that King Kenig was looking disgusted with his younger son, and the High King, from his carefully neutral expression, was wondering if Ivar were a coward.
I said, rather boldly, as I rubbed my shoulder, “I know we can rely on you, Ivar.”
Ivar shot me a dizzy sort of look. “I should have been warned,” he protested. “To be suddenly told that you’re going on a journey – it’s – it’s—!”
King Kenig said, “Don’t act the fool, Ivar. The High King has told us how spies from Logra can come and go. There’s nothing Logra would like better than to hear that a Prince of Kilcannon is setting out to rescue the High Prince. Utmost secrecy was necessary.”
Ivar shot a look at Donal as if to say why was he in on the secret then and turned to his mother again. “Very well, if I am to go and I am going to be sick, I shall need medicine and a servant to help me.”
“A remedy is prepared and packed for you,” Queen Mevenne said calmly. I saw Aunt Beck looking a bit sharp at that. Remedies of all kinds are her business to provide.
But, before she could say anything, Ivar’s father added, “And Ogo is to go with you as your servant. Now stop this silly noise.”
“Ogo!” Ivar exclaimed. “But he’s useless!”
“Nonetheless,” said King Kenig, “Ogo is a Logran and quite likely to be a spy. If you take him with you now without warning, he cannot pass the news on tonight and you will have him under your eye after.”
“Ogo would be as useless as a spy as he is at everything else!” Ivar protested. “Must I really?”
“Yes,” said his father. “We are taking no risks.”
Here King Farlane stood up, very slowly and weakly, and the rest of us of course had to stand up too. “It only remains,” he said, “for us to wish you success on your journey. Go now, in the hands of the gods and—” he looked particularly at Aunt Beck – “for the love of those gods, bring my son back with you if you can.”
Aunt Beck ducked him a small stiff curtsey and looked back at him just as particularly. So did I. The High King was trembling and strong feelings were trying to stay hidden behind the tight skin of his face. The feelings looked like hope to me – sick, wild hopes of seeing Prince Alasdair again – the kind of hopes that seldom get fulfilled. Aunt Beck saw them too. She had seemed ready to make one of her direst remarks, but instead she said, almost kindly, “I’ll do all I can, sire.”
After that, we