The Redemption of Althalus

‘Degrur, that doesn’t make any sense at all.’

‘I just woke up, my Chief. You don’t expect me to make sense when I first get up, do you?’

Althalus stepped forward and bowed elegantly. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Chief Albron,’ he said. Then he looked around the hall. ‘I see that you’ve made some improvements since my last visit.’

‘You’ve been here before?’ Albron asked with one quizzically raised eyebrow.

‘Yes – quite some time ago. The chief in those days used to keep pigs in this hall. Pigs are nice enough animals, I suppose – good to their mothers and all – but they don’t make very good house-pets. And the dining hall isn’t really the place to keep them – unless you like your bacon very fresh.’

Albron laughed. ‘Is your name really Althalus?’

Althalus sighed with feigned regret. ‘I’m afraid so, Chief Albron,’ he replied theatrically. ‘I was positive that your clan had forgotten me by now. Fame can be so inconvenient sometimes, can’t it, my Lord? Anyway, since my dreadful secret’s out in the open, and if you’re not too busy, maybe we can get right down to cases here. Has your clan managed to amass enough gold since my last visit to make it worth my while to rob you again?’

Chief Albron blinked, and then he burst into laughter.

Althalus pushed on. ‘Since you already know my dreadful secret, there’s no point in beating about the bush, now is there? When would it be most convenient for you to have me rob you? There’ll be all that shouting and running around and organizing pursuits, and the like. You know how disruptive a robbery can be sometimes.’

‘You carry your age very well, Master Althalus’, Chief Albron noted with a grin. ‘According to that story we all heard when we were children, you robbed Gosti Big Belly several thousand years ago.’

‘Has it been that long? My goodness, where does the time go?’

‘Why don’t you join us for breakfast, Master Althalus?’ Albron invited. ‘Since you plan to rob me of all my gold, you’re going to need a few dozen horses to carry off all your loot. We could discuss that over breakfast. I’ve got a few spare horses, and some of them even have all four of their legs. I’m sure we can strike a bargain on them. Just because you’re planning to rob me, it shouldn’t get in the way of our doing business together, should it?’

Althalus laughed and joined the group of men at the table. They bantered back and forth over breakfast, and after they’d eaten, the young Chief Albron offered Althalus a tankard of something he called ale.

‘Never mind’, Emmy’s voice murmured.

‘It wouldn’t be polite to refuse, Em,’ he sent back his silent reply. Then he lifted the tankard and drank.

It took all of the self-control he could bring to bear to keep from spitting the awful stuff onto the floor. Good rich mead was one thing, but Albron’s ale was so bitter that Althalus almost choked on it.

‘Told you.’ Emmy’s voice sounded smug.

Althalus carefully set the tankard down. ‘This has all been very entertaining, Chief Albron,’ he said, ‘but there’s a question I need to ask you.’

‘The best escape route to take after you’ve robbed me?’

Althalus laughed. ‘No, my Lord. If I really were that other Althalus, I’d have planned my escape before I even came down here. As you’ve probably noticed from my clothes, I’m not an Arum.’

‘That had sort of crossed my mind, Master Althalus.’

‘Actually I come from over to the east in Ansu, and I’ve been trying to track something down for several years now.’

‘Something valuable?’

‘Well, not to anybody else, probably, but it’s something I need to have to lay claim to an inheritance. My father’s older brother is the Arkhein of our region.’

‘Arkhein?’

‘It’s a title of nobility, my Lord – sort of an equivalent to your own title. Anyway, my uncle’s only son – my cousin – had an argument with a bear a few years back, and not many men win those kinds of arguments, since the bears of Ansu are very big and very bad tempered. Anyway, my cousin lost the argument, and since his father, my uncle, only had the one son, his title’s going to be vacant after he dies.’

‘And you’ll succeed him? Congratulations, Master Althalus,’ Albron said.

‘It’s not quite that cut and dried, my Lord,’ Althalus said, making a sour face. ‘I’ve got another cousin, the son of my father’s younger brother, and he and I were both born in the same summer. We Ansus don’t have a very precise calendar, so nobody can really be sure which one of us is the eldest.’

‘Wars tend to break out over things like that.’

‘My uncle, the Arkhein, realized that too, my Lord. That’s when he called my cousin and me to his castle and told us very firmly to stop recruiting armies and forming alliances. Then he told us a story. It seems that many years ago one of our ancestors had owned a very pretty dagger. There’d been one of those little wars that break out in Ansu from time to time, and our ancestor had gotten himself killed. Then, after the sun had gone down, the scoundrels who lurk like vultures around the edges of every battlefield came out to rob the dead.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Albron said, nodding grimly.

‘You’ve seen the same sort of thing yourself, I gather. Anyway, one of those scoundrels picked up our ancestor’s dagger. It didn’t have any jewels in the hilt or anything, but it was ornamental enough that the rascal thought he could probably sell it for enough to make it worth his while. Our uncle told my cousin and me that he was proposing a sort of contest. Whichever one of us could track down that dagger and bring it back to him would be the one who’d get his title.’ Althalus sighed dramatically. ‘I’ve been running hard ever since that day. You would not believe how interesting life can be when you’re looking for an antique with one eye and watching for assassins with the other.’

‘Assassins?’

‘My other cousin’s a bit lazy, my Lord, so the idea of wandering around the world looking for an ancient knife doesn’t light any warm fires in his heart. He seems to feel that it’d be much easier to have me murdered than it’d be to try to win a race with me. Anyway, to get to the point here, I happened across a fellow who told me that he’d been in your arms-room once, and he said that he was almost certain that he’d seen a knife there that fit the description of the one I’d just told him about’ Althalus cast a covert look at Chief Albron. The story he’d just conjured up out of whole cloth seemed to have fired the Clan-Chief’s imagination. Althalus was quite pleased to discover that he hadn’t lost his touch.

Chief Albron rose to his feet. ‘Why don’t we go have a look, Arkhein Althalus,’ he suggested.

‘I’m not the Arkhein yet, my Lord,’ Althalus amended.

‘You will be if that dagger’s in my armory. You’re a well-spoken man with a civilized sense of humor, Althalus. Those are noble qualities, and your cousin’s an absolute knave. I’ll do everything in my power to see to it that you inherit your uncle’s title.’

Althalus bowed. ‘You honor me, my Lord,’ he said.

‘Wasn’t that all just a little thick?’ Emmy’s voice suggested.

‘I know these Arums, Em, so I know exactly what kind of story to tell them. Actually, that was a very good one. It had a threat of civil war, a hero, a villain, and a quest fraught with danger. What more does a good story need?’

‘A little bit of truth might have added something.’

‘I don’t like to contaminate a good story with truth, Em. That’d be a violation of my artistic integrity, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed.

‘Trust me, little kitten. That knife’s as good as in my hands already, and I won’t even have to buy it. Albron’s going to give it to me outright, along with his blessing.’

Albron’s armory was a stone-walled chamber at the back of his castle, and it was littered with all kinds of swords, axes, pikes, helmets, daggers, and shirts made of chain.

‘This is my armorer, Rheud.’ Albron introduced Althalus to a blocky, kilted fellow with a bristling red beard. ‘Describe this dagger you’re looking for to him.’

‘It’s about a foot and a half long, master armorer,’ Althalus told the red-bearded man, ‘and it’s got an odd-shaped blade – sort of like a laurel-leaf. There’s a design etched into the blade. From what I understand, the design’s actually writing in some ancient language that nobody understands any more.’

Rheud scratched his head. ‘Oh,’ he said then, ‘it’s that one. It’s very pretty, but it’s a little ornate for my taste. I prefer more business-like weapons.’

‘It’s here, then?’

‘Well, it was. Young Eliar came here to arm himself before he went off to that war down in Treborea. He took a fancy to that knife, so I let him take it.’

Althalus gave chief Albron a puzzled look. ‘Have you got a quarrel of some kind with somebody in Treborea, my Lord?’

‘No, it’s a business arrangement. In the old days the lowlanders were always trying to persuade the Clan-Chiefs of Arum to agree to alliances with them – alliances where we’d do the bleeding and they’d get the profit. There was a conclave of all the Clan-Chiefs of Arum about fifty years ago, and the chiefs all agreed that there weren’t going to be any more of those alliances with the lowlanders. The way things are now, if the lowlanders need soldiers, they have to rent them.’

‘Rent?’

‘It works out very well for us, Master Althalus. We don’t ally ourselves with anybody during those wars, so we don’t get swindled out of our share when the war’s over. It’s all strictly business now. If they want soldiers, they pay for them – in advance – and we won’t accept promissory notes or paper money. They pay in gold, and they pay before any of our men start marching.’

‘How did the lowlanders take that?’

‘From what I’ve heard, their screams of outrage were echoing off the moon. The Clan-Chiefs of Arum have held firm, though, so now the lowlanders either pay, or they fight their own wars.’ Albron scratched his chin reflectively. ‘We’re a war-like people here in Arum, and there was a time when almost anything could set off a clan war. It’s not that way here any more. There hasn’t been a clan war in Arum for forty years.’

Althalus grinned at him. ‘Why burn down your neighbors for fun when you can set fire to Perquaine and Treborea for profit?’ he said. ‘Which Treborean city bought the services of this young Eliar?’

‘Kanthon, wasn’t it, Rheud?’ Albron asked. ‘Sometimes I lose track. I’ve got men involved in a half-dozen little wars down there right now.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Rheud replied. ‘This was Eliar’s first war, so you sent him off to one of the quiet ones so he could get his feet wet in shallow water his first time out. That war between Kanthon and Osthos has been simmering for the last ten centuries, and nobody’s taking it very seriously.’

‘Well,’ Althalus said, ‘I guess I get to go to Kanthon then. There’s something to be said for that, I suppose.’

‘Oh?’ Albron asked.

‘It’s open country down there in Treborea. I don’t want to offend you, my Lord, but there are too many trees here in Arum for my taste.’

‘Don’t you like trees?’

‘Not when one of my cousin’s assassins might be hiding behind any one of them. Flat, open country’s sort of boring, but some boredom might give my nerves a bit of a rest. Here lately they’ve been stretched as tight as a bowstring. What does Eliar look like?’

‘He’s sort of gangly,’ the red-bearded armorer said. ‘He’s only about fifteen years old, so he’s still growing. If he lives, he’ll probably turn into a fairly respectable warrior. He isn’t any too bright, but he might outgrow that. He’s got a lot of enthusiasm, and he’s convinced that he’s the greatest warrior alive.’

‘I’d better hurry, then,’ Althalus said. ‘Young Eliar sounds like a fellow who’s just brimful of incipient mortality.’

‘Nicely put, Master Althalus,’ Albron said admiringly. ‘That description fits just about every adolescent male in the whole of Arum.’

‘They’re good for business, though, aren’t they, Chief Albron?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Albron smirked. ‘I can usually get double price for the young ones.’

Althalus and Emerald left Albron’s castle the next morning and traveled south. ‘Do you know the way to Kanthon?’ Emmy asked as they rode on down the canyon.

‘Of course, Em. I know several ways to just about every city in the world.’

‘And several other ways to get out of them?’

‘Naturally. Getting out of town in a hurry is sometimes very necessary for people in my profession.’

‘I wonder why?’

‘Be nice, Emmy. Where do we go after we get the Knife away from Eliar?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t worry, Althalus. The writing on the Knife will tell us where to go.’

‘I thought the words on the blade were there to identify the people we’re going to need.’

‘That’s part of what they say, but only part of it. The writing on the blade is much more complex than that, pet, and it changes with the circumstances. It tells us where to go, who we need to find, and what we’re supposed to do next.’

‘It sounds to me as if it’s almost like the Book.’

‘Sort of, yes. The Knife changes, though, and the Book doesn’t. Let’s move along, Althalus. We have a long way to go.’

They rode down onto the plains of Perquaine, and after about a week they reached the city of Maghu. There had been many changes in Maghu since Althalus had last been there, but the ancient temple was still the most prominent building in town. As they rode past it, Althalus was a bit startled by Emmy’s reaction. She was riding, as always, in the hood of his cloak, and she laid back her ears and hissed at the temple. ‘What was that all about?’ he asked her.

‘I hate that place!’ she replied vehemently.

‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s grotesque!’

‘It’s a little fancy, but not much more than other temples I’ve seen.’

‘I’m not talking about the temple, Althalus. I’m talking about the statue inside.’

‘You mean the one with all those extra bosoms? It’s just the local goddess, Em. You don’t have to take it so personally.’

‘It is personal, Althalus!’

He could feel her fuming outrage, and he looked sharply back over his shoulder at her. A sudden notion struck him, and he sent a probing thought into that part of her mind she’d always insisted was personal and private. He was stunned by what he found. ‘Is that who you really are?’ he gasped.

‘I’ve told you to stay out of there!’

‘You’re Dweia, aren’t you?’

‘Amazing. You even pronounced it right.’ Her tone was snippy. She was definitely not in a good humor.

Althalus was awed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.

‘It wasn’t any of your business who I am.’

‘Do you really look anything like that statue?’

‘Like a brood-sow, you mean? – Like a whole herd of brood sows?’

‘I was talking about the face, not all those extra – ’He groped for a non-offensive word.

‘The face isn’t accurate either.’

‘A fertility goddess? What’s fertility got to do with anything?’

‘Would you like to rephrase that question – while you still have your health?’

‘Maybe I should just drop it.’

‘Wise decision.’

They rode on out of Maghu, and Althalus struggled with what he’d just discovered. In a peculiar sort of way, it began to make sense. ‘No biting,’ he said to Emmy. ‘Just tell me if I’ve got this straight. Deiwos makes things, right?’

‘So?’

‘After he’s made them, though, he goes on to make other things, and he turns the things he’s already made over to you. You’re the one who keeps them alive by making sure that they all have offspring – or whatever.’ Then another thought came to him. ‘That’s why you hate Daeva so much, isn’t it, Em? He wants to destroy everything Deiwos made, but you want to preserve it – to keep it alive. Is that why your names all begin with the same sound? – Deiwos, Dweia, and Daeva? And does that mean that you’re Daeva’s sister as well as the sister of Deiwos?’

‘It’s a little more complex than that, Althalus, but you’re nibbling around the edges of it. There are some men coming up the road toward us.’

Althalus looked on ahead. ‘Maybe you’d better pull your head in until I find out who they are.’

As the men came closer, Althalus saw that they were wearing kilts. Most of them were also wearing bloody bandages, and several were hobbling along with the aid of wooden staffs. ‘Arums,’ he muttered to Emmy. ‘The markings on their kilts suggest that they’re members of Albron’s clan.’

‘What are they doing here in Perquaine?’

‘I don’t know, Em. I’ll ask them.’ Althalus reined in his horse and waited as the wounded men hobbled closer.

The man at the front of the column was tall, lean, and dark haired. He had a bloody bandage wrapped about his head and a sour look on his face.

‘You gentlemen are a long way from home,’ Althalus said by way of greeting.

‘We’re trying to do something about that right now,’ the sour-faced man said.

‘You’re of Albron’s clan, aren’t you?’

‘How did you know that?’

‘The markings on your kilts, neighbor.’

‘You don’t look like an Arum to me.’

‘I’m not, but I’m acquainted with your customs. It looks as if you’ve run into some trouble.’

‘That sort of covers it, yes. Chief Albron hired us out to work in a war over in Treborea. It was supposed to be a quiet little war, but it got out of hand.’

‘It wasn’t by any chance that little squabble between Kanthon and Osthos, was it?’ A cold lump began to settle somewhere in the vicinity of Althalus’ stomach.

‘You’ve heard about that one?’

‘We’ve just come from Chief Albron’s hall.’

‘We?’

‘My cat and me,’ Althalus explained.

‘A cat’s an odd traveling companion for a grown man,’ the lean man observed. He glanced back at his battered troops. ‘Rest a bit,’ he barked out the command. Then he sank down onto the grass at the side of the road. ‘If you’ve got a little time, I’d sort of like to know what’s up ahead of us,’ he said to Althalus.

‘Of course.’ Althalus swung down from his saddle. ‘My name’s Althalus, by the way.’

The wounded war chief gave him a startled look.

‘It’s just a coincidence,’ Althalus explained. ‘I’m not really that Althalus.’

‘I didn’t really think so. I’m called Khalor, and I’m the Ancient of what’s left of this group of Albron’s clansmen.’

‘You don’t look all that ancient to me.’

‘It’s a Treborean title, friend Althalus. We’re supposed to try to fit in when we come down into the low countries to fight their wars for them. Back at home they call me Sergeant. Did you happen across any groups of armed men on your way out of the mountains?’

‘Nothing out of the ordinary, Sergeant Khalor – a few hunters, is about all. I think you’ll be able to get home without any trouble. From what your chief told me, the clans of southern Arum are more or less at peace with each other. What happened to you and your men?’

‘Albron hired us out to the Kanthons about six months or so ago. Like I told you before, it was supposed to be a quiet little war. About all we were supposed to do was march around in places where the Osthos could see us – the usual sorts of things, you understand – flex our muscles, wave our swords and axes, shout war-cries, and all the other foolishness that impresses the lowlanders. Then the feeble-minded fool that sits on the throne of Kanthon got carried away and ordered us to invade the territory of the Aryo of Osthos.’ The sergeant shook his head in disgust.

‘You couldn’t talk him out of it?’

‘I tried, Althalus. God knows I tried. I told him that I didn’t have enough men for that and that he’d have to hire ten times as many as he already had before I could mount an invasion, but the silly ass wouldn’t listen. Don’t ever try to explain military reality to a lowlander.’

‘You got yourself trounced, I take it?’

‘Trounced only begins to cover it. I got a mud-puddle stomped into my backside, if you want to know the truth. Unfortunately, we took the Osthos by surprise when we marched across their frontier.’

‘Unfortunately?’

‘They didn’t expect us to do that, so they weren’t ready for us. That gave the idiot in Kanthon all sorts of wild delusions, and he ordered me to lay siege to the city of Osthos itself. I didn’t have enough men to set up a picket-line around the place, much less lay siege to it, but the jack-ass in Kanthon wouldn’t listen to me.’

Althalus started to swear.

‘When your vocabulary begins to run dry, I can give you whole platoons of interesting things to say about my former employer. I’ve been inventing new swear words for the last two and a half weeks. You seem to be taking this sort of personally’

‘Yes, I am. I’ve been looking for a young fellow who’s under your command. His name’s Eliar. He doesn’t happen by any chance to be among your wounded, does he?’

‘I’m afraid not, Althalus. I’d imagine that Eliar’s long dead by now – unless that savage girl down in Osthos is still slicing very tiny pieces off of him.’

‘What happened?’

‘Eliar was very enthusiastic about this business; you know how young fellows are in their first war. Anyway, the Aryo of Osthos had ordered his troops to fall back every time they saw us. Eliar and some of my other green troops thought that meant that they were cowards instead of men who had a very clever leader. When we reached the walls of the city, the Osthos just closed their gates and invited us to try to get in if we thought we could. I had this cluster of young enthusiasts on my hands, and they were all jumping up and down and frothing at the mouth and begging me to mount an assault on the walls. Eliar was the one who was screaming the loudest, so I put him in charge and ordered him to take a run at the gate and see how many of his men he could get killed.’

‘That’s a blunt way to put it, Sergeant.’

‘It’s the only real way to find out if a young leader’s got sand in his craw. Eliar was a nice boy, and the other young fellows all sort of followed his lead. That’s part of my job. I’m supposed to keep an eye on these natural leaders and put them into situations where they can prove whether or not they’ve got what it takes to lead troops. Getting some of your people killed is part of the business of command. Well, to cut this short, Eliar and his puppies all went rushing across the meadow toward the city gate screaming and waving their weapons as if they thought they could frighten the walls into falling down. When they were about fifty paces from the gate, it swung open, and the Aryo of Osthos personally led out his troops to give my howling little barbarians a quick lesson in good manners.’

‘By hand, I assume,’ Althalus added in a gloomy voice.

‘Also by foot. They tramped all over my little boys. Eliar was right in the thick of things, naturally, and he was really doing quite well until he came up against the Aryo himself – who just happened to be armed with a battle-axe. Eliar took a wild swing at the Aryo’s head with his sword, and the Aryo blocked it with his axe. Eliar’s sword broke off just above the hilt, and I thought, “Well, goodbye, Eliar”. But the boy surprised me – and he probably surprised the Aryo even more. He threw what was left of his sword right at the Aryo’s face and went for his dagger. Before the Aryo could regain his balance, Eliar was all over him, and he was working that dagger double-time. He must have stabbed that poor nobleman two dozen times, and he left a gash as wide as his hand with every stab. I didn’t really think that ornamental dagger of his was worth all that much, but it certainly leaves big holes in people if a man uses it right. The Aryo’s men swarmed Eliar under, of course, and they took him and some of his men prisoner and went back into the city with them.’

‘Who was this woman you mentioned before?’