Limits of Power (62 page)

Ifoss, Aarenis

N
ot long before the end of the campaign season, an Aldonfulk gnome presented itself at the camp entrance. Arcolin happened to be nearby and intervened when the sentry would not let the gnome in. He guessed what it had come about but wondered why none had come sooner. Yet he knew from Dattur it would be rude to ask.

“I'm Count Arcolin,” he said. “Are you the prince's messenger?”

“It is so,” said the gnome. “It is that this one enters?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said. “It is better to hold talk in my tent.”

The gnome hesitated but then came with Arcolin.

“It is true that our prince granted passage to humans under your command, for the value of information they brought. It is not known that humans remember such passage.”

“Most don't,” Arcolin said. “Two old soldiers did, however. They spoke of it where someone heard. It was not believed by one, but another may have believed. And my junior captain saw a file of creatures—rockfolk, he thought—entering a place in the mountain that no human seemed to know about. He is new in this area; he asked questions.”

“And you sent word to our prince for what reason?”

“Because it could be a danger,” Arcolin said. “And because my soldiers talked about it where others could hear. If an enemy locates it—”

“They will not,” the gnome said. “The rock is closed except when we are using it.”

“My thought was that since my soldiers might have made it possible for others to find, it was my responsibility to inform your prince.”

The gnome said nothing for a moment, then nodded. “It is a reason. It is right that you tell Aldonfulk, but Aldonfulk will guard its own. Tell your soldiers who remember they must not try to pass that way; it will not be safe.”

“They will not,” Arcolin said.

“I will tell the prince,” the gnome said.

At that moment, Dattur came into the tent carrying several packages. The Aldonfulk gnome stared at him, then back at Arcolin.

“Kteknik,”
said the gnome.

“No longer,” Dattur said.

“It is not right dress,” the gnome said in gnomish; Arcolin understood enough now.

“It is now,” Dattur said, “while I am with this army.”

“It is not soldier!” the gnome said. “What prince allowed?”

“My prince stands here,” Dattur said. He nodded toward Arcolin. The other gnome turned to Arcolin, then back to Dattur.

“No. Not possible. That is human. It is not human to be prince. It is not human speak Law. Gnome lies is
kteknik.
”

Arcolin said, in gnomish, “He does not lie. Stone-right makes a prince; my rockfolk hold my stone.”

“Not! Not Law!” The Aldonfulk gnome had turned a peculiar bluish gray. “Must be lie.”

“A dragon came,” Arcolin said. He used what Dattur had taught him was the gnomish word, one that incorporated Eldest of Elders and Flame-Being.

The Aldonfulk gnome took a step toward him. “No dragon come human!”

“A dragon came,” Arcolin repeated. “A dragon sent away gnomes from their stone. I took them in. I gave them stone-right. Dragon made contract with me; he touched my tongue.”

Again the Aldonfulk gnome looked from Arcolin to Dattur and back again. “
Kteknik
… does he lie?”

“No,” Dattur said. “He is my prince. We are his people. He has heart for Law.”

“Not right dress.”

“It is—had been no time,” Arcolin said, struggling with gnomish. “Dragon came in winter; gnomes came to me in winter. The stone has no yielded right…”

“Bternos,” Dattur said. “And this one was far from that stone. It is long story.”

“It is strange story. It is difficult story. The prince will not like this story.”

“It is true story,” Arcolin said.

W
hen Arcolin arrived in Valdaire, his banker handed him an intricately wrapped package. “A gnome gave me this,” he said. “I was to give it to you the day you arrived in the city.”

“It's heavy,” Arcolin said. It felt heavy as stone; he realized it probably was stone.

“I know you have a gnome in the Company now—”

“Not for long; he's going north with me to join others.”

“Well … it's unusual, isn't it?”

“The whole thing is unusual,” Arcolin said. “If you're interested—”

“Indeed yes. You are of value to us. Tell on, if you will.”

Arcolin told it all and finished with, “The Aldonfulk messenger said his prince would be displeased. I suspect this is some evidence of that displeasure, and I hope it does not bar me from use of the pass.”

“Why would it?”

“Because the road north, from the crest of the pass on, traverses Aldonfulk territory. They made treaty long ago, but they still control travel between north and south by that route, and humans pay their toll.”

“I had not realized they had the will or power to close that way,” the banker said.

“It's rare, but it's happened to individuals. I hope I will not be one of them.”

“Tell me, if you do not mind, what it is when you find out.”

Arcolin shrugged. “I might as well open it here and see.”

The gray wrapping, as thin and flexible as paper, seemed of a different texture; Arcolin did not recognize it. Several layers protected the contents: sheets of paper with writing on them in the gnomish script and a thin flat slab of stone.

“That explains the weight,” the banker said. “Can you read that script?”

“Slightly,” Arcolin said. He knew the first block of words was a greeting but did not recognize the rest. “Luckily I can ask Dattur—the gnome with me. I will certainly tell you, since if it is a refusal to allow me to use the pass, I must seek another way north.” He knew of only two other passes, and the nearest, Hakkenarsk, north of Dwarfwatch, lay many days to the east.

“I hope it is not that,” the banker said.

Dattur read the papers without difficulty; Arcolin never ceased to wonder that all gnomes could read. “The Aldonfulk prince greets you and asks your presence in his hall…” Dattur's voice trailed off. “My prince, he is either showing friendship or great guile. He offers the use of the gnome way through the mountain—the same given to Captain Selfer, his cohort, and the Count of Andressat. You must understand that if you accept, you will be at his mercy for those days under the mountain, and if you do not accept, it can—it probably will—be taken as an insult.” He looked up at Arcolin. “And he wants an answer within a day. His messenger will come tomorrow at noon.”

“I can't leave tomorrow,” Arcolin said. “I have business to attend.”

“It is an answer he wants, I believe, not an immediate attendance. How long do you think your business will take?”

“A hand of days at least,” Arcolin said. He looked at Dattur. “Do you think it is friendship or ill intent?”

Dattur spread his hands. “I do not know. Friendship between human and kapristi … is very rare. Alliance is possible. Ill intent, however, is against the Law unless wrong has been done. It may be only that he wants to know and understand how you came to be a prince of kapristi. And know that he may send—may have sent—one of his own to the north to find out what he can.”

Arcolin scrubbed at his head as if he could push his thoughts into order. “It is more complicated than I thought, and I already knew it was complicated. I certainly did not intend to cause trouble with other gnome princes.”

“You did not … but the situation would be … bothering. Annoying, even. It does not happen before.”

“You are coming with me—will it bother you to be underground in a different princedom?”

“No, my prince. It is hard if
kteknik,
but you declared me not
kteknik
and gave me cloth of your choice to clothe myself. If it was not kapristi-made, it was still the right cloth to you. So I told him, and so I will tell the prince.”

“I am not sure my gnomish is good enough to follow everything a prince might say, and answer as I should.”

“I will help, my prince. And should it be necessary, I will work the stone that is not my stone, though they will protest loudly.”

“What is this stone, then?” Arcolin asked.

Dattur ran his fingers over it. “It's a seal-stone. It is the prince's seal, stone from his stone-mass, that certifies who he is. It may also be a key, but that we may find out from his messenger tomorrow.”

T
he messenger arrived promptly at noon. Arcolin and Dattur were waiting at the gate when he walked up and bowed stiffly. He spoke Common fairly well. “You were able to read what my prince wrote?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said. “With some help.”

“And what answer do you return?”

“I cannot come at once,” Arcolin said. “I have appointments made that must be kept. But I accept Aldonfulk's invitation to meet with your prince in his hall.”

“It is well,” the messenger said.

A
few days later, Arcolin sent his escort ahead to cross the pass alone. “I am delayed here. Await me at Fiveway,” he said, handing over a letter pouch for a courier. “A royal courier might be waiting; if so, hand this over.”

“But sir—
we're
supposed to be your escort.”

“And you will be, from Fiveway north.”

“But sir, who will be your escort to Fiveway?”

“I can always find someone safe to travel with that far. After all, once over the divide, we're in gnome territory almost all the way to Fiveway. Brigands don't last long there.” He grinned at them. “I don't know exactly how long my business here will be, but do not worry.”

Two nights later, Arcolin and Dattur rode north out of the winter quarters and met their guide on the first ridge. By dawn, they were high on another ridge, with fog in the valley below and the flank of the great mountain in front of them.

“It will not be as with your captain,” their guide said. “You travel with a gnome of your princedom, and though you are human … I have been told not to cloud your memory. For that reason, the prince has commanded that we enter the mountain in a different place and travel to the main passage along a new one that closes behind. Though if this frightens you, you may sleep and not know.”

“I am not frightened,” Arcolin said. “Or not enough to wish to be asleep.”

Nonetheless, when they rode up to a vertical face of rock and it opened silently before them, Arcolin's belly tightened. The night had been dark, with rising fog dimming the stars, but the dark they rode into was darker yet. His horse balked at first, but their gnome guide laid a hand on its neck and muttered something; the horse relaxed and plodded into the dark without resistance.

All Arcolin could tell of the first part of that journey was clopping of the horse's hooves on stone and the echo of that sound off the walls of the passage. He knew the passage climbed steeply because of the horse's grunts of effort. He had the uneasy feeling that they traveled in a moving hole in the rock, but in the blackness he could not see rock opening and closing. He wasn't sure that he wanted to. Finally he saw a dim glow ahead, and they came out into a level passage wider than the one they'd been in. Arcolin looked back in time to see the rock flow together like mud and stiffen again into stone. He shuddered and did not look back again.