The Knight

When I think back on those days, all the days and weeks and months after we got out of the Mountain of Fire there are two things I remember more than any of the rest. One is how bad Pouk looked after we got him out. When he was lying on the rock waiting for the leech, and later in his bed in the Round Tower. He was not what anyone would call handsome, besides being pretty small. He had a big hook nose and a big lantern jaw. His blind eye looked terrible, and his good eye was little and squinty. But he looked so pitiful when he was hurt so bad, and he was so brave about it. When Thunrolf told him he would never do anything like that to him again, he just said, “Thankee, sir. Thankee.” And shut his eyes. I never knew how much I liked him until I saw him suffering like that, hurt so bad and trying to smile. He drank too much sometimes, but I could never get mad about it like I should have.

He was with me, on and off, until Disiri and I went away. After we had gone I saw what he had meant about my being his big chance. He was important (and Ulfa was, too) just because he had been with me so much. He was Master Pouk then, and worked for the king.

The other thing that I will never forget is seeing the Isle of Glas. The sun was almost down, and I was up on the sterncastle deck talking to Kerl. I thought I saw something and borrowed his big brass telescope.

And there it was. The tall, proud trees and the waves lapping a beach of blood-colored sand. I looked and looked, and pretty soon I started to cry If I could tell you why, I would, but I cannot. Tears ran down my face, and I could not breathe right. I took the telescope down and wiped my eyes and blew my nose. And when I looked again, it was gone. I never saw it again until I went into Thiazi’s Room of Lost Loves.

So those are the things. But I ought to say right here that I did not know Uri and Baki were looking for me. I had no idea, and of course my going to Muspel had made it really hard for them. They had searched the Western Trader three or four times, and had given up on it a long time before Pouk and I boarded it again.

Chapter 32. The Marshal’s Tower

“Keep your hand from your sword,” the man-at-arms behind me whispered,

“and none of your cheek.” More loudly he said, “This here is Able, Master Agr.” I said, “Sir Able, sir.”

“He says he’s a knight, Master. He wanted His Grace, so I thought I’d better let you see him.”

That was what I got for not buying a proper warhorse in Forcetti. I had planned to get one, and Pouk and I had looked at a few that they had for sale. None of them had really suited me, and even though Thunrolf had given me a lot I could not have bought one of the pretty good ones.

The thin man behind the big table nodded and stroked his little mustache. He looked smart. He also looked like he did not like what he was seeing very much, meaning me. It always seemed to me that people ought to see right away that I was not really a man, just a boy that Disiri had made look like one. Only they could not. Pouk had not been able to, and neither had Kerl. Neither had Thunrolf. Now it seemed to me like I had stumbled into somebody that would.

“I am the duke’s marshal,” he said. He did not give a damn what I thought about him, and the way he talked showed it. He was telling me the facts. “I keep order among his horses, among his knights, among his servants, and among any others who happen to be here in Sheerwall.”

It did not seem like a good time to talk, so I just nodded.

“If it is needful that you speak to the duke, I will see that you gain audience. If it is not, you may speak with me. Or I will direct you to the correct person. Have you a wrong to lay before the duke’s court?”

I said, “I seek service with Duke Marder.”

“As a knight.”

“Yes. That’s what I am.”

“Really.” He smiled, and it was not a very nice smile. “From whom did you receive the accolade?”

“From the Queen of the Moss Aelf. From Queen Disiri.”

“Make your japes over wine, Able.”

“Sir Able, sir, and I’m not joking.”

“You’re a knight. We can leave the Aelfqueen out of it for the time being.”

“That’s right.”

“You have the build for it, at least. As a knight, you are an expert rider? It’s the management of the charger that distinguishes a knight from other men. I’m sure you know that.”

“It’s his honor that distinguishes a knight,” I said.

Agr sighed. “But the management of the charger is the fundamental skill of knighthood. Have you a charger?”

I started to explain, but he cut me off. “Have you funds to buy one?”

“Not enough for one I’d want.”

“I see.” He smoothed his mustache again. He probably did not know he was doing it. “Have you a manor from which you draw support? Where is it?”

I said I did not have one.

“I thought not.” Agr stood up and went over to his window to look out. “His Grace has need of fighting men. Sir Able. On what terms would you serve him?”