The Knight

That stopped me dead for a minute. Parka was the first thing I thought of, then Thunor—he was one of the Overcyns that people talked about a lot. “Nobody calls the Overcyns gods,” I told Gylf. “Nobody around here, anyhow. Was this Parka? Do you know who Parka is?”

He did not answer, and by that time he was almost out of sight. I took off after him, running as hard as I could, but I never caught up until he got to the pool and stopped.

I looked for a god then, but I did not see one, so I knelt down and washed my hands and my face (I was sweating a lot) and had a good, long drink.

After that I splashed more water on my face, and spooned some up with my hands and poured it over my head; and while I was doing that, the sun came out again. Sunlight turned the drops that rained from my fingertips to diamonds and struck deep into the pool. At the bottom, way, way down, I could see Uri and Baki. They were in a room that seemed to be about the size of an airport. It had swords and spears and axes all over the walls and in stands and long racks, so that you saw the gleam of steel everywhere you looked. They were talking to something big and dark that writhed like a snake. Uri turned back into a Khimaira while I was watching.

Soon it faded out. The sun was still bright but was not shining straight down anymore. Or that is what I think. As soon as it was gone, a cloud came—or what seemed like one—and Gylf said, “The god’s here.” He got excited sometimes and he sounded excited then, but quiet and polite too.

I looked up, and there was no cloud. It was a wing, so white it glowed and a lot bigger than the Western Trader’s biggest sail; it was coming from the back of a man in armor sitting at the edge of the pool. I could not believe that the wings—there were four—really belonged to him. Just by looking at me, he knew that I could not; so he folded them around him. When he did it, you could not see his armor—he looked like he was wearing a long robe of white feathers. He said, “I too have been sent away.”

“You too!” I was so surprised I really did not know what I was saying. “I’ve been banished from Duke Marder’s court until there’s ice in the bay.”

“Thus I come to you.”

He sounded like he knew all about it. My jaw dropped so far it almost hit the buckle of my sword belt.

“I do not. Yet I know you better than your mother ever could, because I hear your thought.” He raised his right hand. (Later I got to know King Arnthor, and he would have loved to be able to raise his hand like that, but he could not. No human can.) “Your mother never knew you,” he said. “I, who know so little, know that now. I make mistakes, you see. I am near perfection.”

I was on my knees with my head down by then.

“You have my thanks,” he said, “but you must stand. I have not come for your worship, but to your aid. I, too, am a knight in service to a lord. My name is Michael.”

All I could think of when he said that was that it was a name from our world. It seemed like a miracle then. It still does. He had a name from Earth, and he had come to Mythgarthr to help me.

“By putting my knowledge at your disposal.”

I was so happy I could not think of anything to say. I stood up, remembering that he had told me to, and stared at him while he looked at me. There was no white to his eyes, and no black dot in the middle. It was like I was looking right through his head at Skai.

“You think of Skai, of the third world. You believe I have been dispatched from the castle you see there.”

It was not easy to nod, but I did. “I—I hope so.”

“I have not. I am of the second world, called Kleos, the World of Fair Report.”

“I didn’t even know the name of it, My Lord.” I just about choked, realizing that I was talking to him the way I had to Thunrolf. “I ... I’d like to get to that castle, if I could. Is that wrong?”

“It is a higher ambition than most.”

“Can you ...” I remembered Ravd and knew I was putting my foot in it. “Will you tell me how?”

Michael studied me again; it seemed to take a long time. Finally he said, “You know the rudiments of the lance.”

I nodded, too scared to speak.

“You have been taught by one skilled with it.” Michael snapped his fingers, and Gylf came over and lay down at his feet, looking very proud.

“Yes,” I said. “By Master Thope. He was wounded too badly to practice with me, but he could tell me things, and one of his helpers would joust with me.”

That made Michael smile. It was such a little smile that I could hardly see it, but it seemed like it made the sun brighter. “It does not trouble you that your dog prefers me to you?”

“No,” I said, “I prefer you to me, too.”

“I understand. Master Thope is skillful with the lance, but he will never reach the casde of which we are speaking. What lies beyond skill?”

I started to say something dumb, then I stopped. I do not even remember what it was.

“When you know, you will go there. Not before. Have you more questions? Ask now. I must soon depart.”

“How can I find Queen Disiri?”