The Knight

“You’re dirty enough, and scared almost to death, it seems like. Is somebody chasing you?”

Still sobbing, he shook his head.

“This is Aelfrice, isn’t it?” I paused to look around. “It’s got to be, but if that’s your natural shape, you’re no Aelf. Why were you running?” Pointing to his mouth, he shook his head again. “Hungry?”

He nodded, and it seemed to me that a glimmer of hope came into his eyes. “I don’t ... Wait a minute.”

Bold Berthold’s bundle was a good-sized loaf of coarse bread and a lump of cheese. I tore the loaf in two, broke the cheese, and gave the smaller halves of each to him. It was fresh bread and good cheese.

“It’s polite to talk at table,” I told him when I had swallowed the first bite. “When I was little, my brother and I just dug right in, but that’s not the way they eat at Duke Marder’s castle. You’re supposed to talk about the weather, or hunting, or somebody’s new horse.”

Pointing to his mouth as he had before, he shook his head.

“You can’t talk?”

He nodded.

I dismounted. “Swallow that cheese and open your mouth. I want to have a look.”

He did as he was told.

“Still got your tongue. I thought maybe somebody’d cut it out.” He shook his head.

“Lord Beel told me once that if you hit somebody’s face with witch hazel, you see the true shape. Maybe that would work on you, but I don’t see any around here. Is that your true shape?”

He nodded.

“Maybe you were born like this?” He shook his head.

“You know, you look familiar.” He did, too; I tried to recall the boy Modguda had sent for Pouk. “How’d you get to Aelfrice?” He pointed to me. “I brought you?” He nodded, still crying.

“Just now?” Taking a bite from what remained of the cheese, I thought about that. “You followed me from Bymir’s farm?” The boy shook his head. “But I brought you?” Another nod.

I snapped my fingers. “Toug!” A round dozen joyful nods.

“I was here with you—it’s been years ago. It doesn’t seem like it, but I guess it has been. How long have you been here?” He shrugged.

“It seems like that’s the way it always is. You lose track here. Maybe there really isn’t any time. Let’s see. Queen Disiri took you?” Looking frightened, Toug nodded.

“She said she had something to tell you, or to ask you. The two of you went off together, and you never came back.” Toug shook his head.

“You did? When?”

Toug pointed to the ground at his feet.

“Now?”

Toug nodded.

“You just left her?”

He nodded again.

“Can you take me to the place?”

Another nod.

“Then let’s go!”

He pointed to the stallion, his eyes questioning.

“You’re right.” We can ride faster than we can walk, even through these trees.” I let him climb into the saddle and got up behind him. “Hold on to the pommel and point. Which way? I won’t let him trot much.”

Crying again, he pointed; I clapped my borrowed spurs to the stallion’s sides.

Chapter 68. In The Grotto Of The Griffin

Twilight found us among mountains, camped beside a rushing stream.

“This isn’t Aelfrice.” It was something I had said before; Toug nodded miserably, as he had the other time.

“It was in this gorge that things changed, I think. One end is in Aelfrice and the other here. For us. For today. That’s how it seems to me, anyway. I’ve been in mountains like these before, and it wouldn’t surprise me if these are the same ones, though I haven’t seen the War Way. Was it near here you parted from Disiri?”

Toug rose and began to walk, pointed, then indicated by a gesture that I was to follow. With a worried glance back at the tethered stallion, I did.

By the time we reached the carved stone from which the stream issued, the light had failed. The place where water came out was a big cave, I thought at first, a cave with an overhanging, downward-curved roof, so that the long smooth expanse of stone over which the water flowed seemed almost a portico. It was not until I returned to our fire and came back with two burning sticks that I saw the eagle eyes and the pointed ears. I would have gone in then, as Toug urged by eager smiles and gestures.

“There is danger within!”

I turned, but the location and identity of the speaker were lost in darkness.

“It was my home once.”

The voice was deep and slow and lisping; I felt sure it came from no human lips. I raised my burning sticks, moving them to fan the flame. Something huge clung to the cliff face, something ghostly white and assuredly not human.

“Strength will not avail against Grengarm,” the great voice announced, “until you grasp Eterne. As you will. Nor will cunning, once you have her.”