The Castle That Would Not Draw Near

Findrak Castle refused to come any closer, no matter how long they traveled toward it. The fortress was simply too vast; distance had made it look near. Just as Ilesin had said, it was well past midday before they finally reached the gates.

"Shall I try a haste spell?"

Artila had grown impatient, but the moment the words left her mouth, groans and cries rose from every side, and she had to let the idea go. When at last they arrived, a guard who had been watching them bellowed.

"Pass!"

Artila leaned out of the carriage to look up. On the wall above the gate, soldiers and knights struck their fists to their chests, then raised them high. Ilesin lifted his own fist in answer, and the company behind him did the same as one. Swords beat against shields, and a cheer went up along the battlements. Artila tried the gesture once herself and made a clumsy mess of it. Ilesin saw, and laughed. Flushed, she turned quietly back into her seat.

"Sorry."

He came to sit beside her as he said it.

A little later the carriage slowed. Thinking they had reached their destination at last, Artila looked out. On the bronze plate above the gate they were passing through, a bear was engraved wearing a crown of fruit. A large man came running toward them.

"Welcome, Lord Ilesin."

"It's been a while, Enson."

Ilesin dismounted and opened his arms. The man caught his right hand and kissed the back of it.

"I'm glad to see you well."

"That's thanks to your worrying. Has everyone been all right?"

"All of us have. We've had peace here—but you, my lord, have been through a great deal, haven't you?"

"By heaven's favor, we held the castle safely. Your prayers helped as well. Whenever luck came my way, I thought of them reaching me, and I was grateful."

Artila stepped down from the carriage and looked around the house. It was a great high manor, built of stone laid with exquisite care, with livestock pens and storehouses, a road paved solid in flat flagstones, and a broad courtyard. Ilesin brought Enson over to her.

"Artila, this is Enson, steward of the house. Enson, this is Artila. She's a mage who's joined our castle."

Enson looked astonished.

"A new mage? Fortune has smiled on you."

"We've had the favor of the Seven Gods."

Ilesin was a more devout atheist than anyone alive, but he knew precisely which words were required when one had to play the pious. Enson, faithful enough that doubt never occurred to him, pressed his hands together and offered a prayer of thanks.

"We give thanks for the favor of the Seven Gods, and of the God of Gods."

Ilesin mimed the prayer beside him. It was a prayer so empty of faith it would not have reached even the youngest of the Seven.

"Beni told me Father had gone to Mohiram village. What happened?"

"A demon appeared."

Ilesin frowned.

"A demon?"

"Yes. So the master went out himself. They say it was all dealt with yesterday. You'll be able to see him as soon as he returns."

"If Father is coming home in one piece, it certainly wasn't a demon."

Enson sputtered, trying and failing to swallow a laugh. Those around them fared no better. A few managed to hold it in; most gave up and snickered. Artila could guess what sort of reputation the man called Father enjoyed.

"We'll talk details later. For now, I'd like everyone to rest."

"I'll have a place laid for supper. How many in all?"

"Thirty-two. There are gifts in the carriage for Mother, Father, and Beni, and for you and the other knights. I'll hand them out tomorrow."

The steward's face brightened.

"You think of us even from so far away. We're more grateful than I can say."

"Save the thanks until you've seen the gifts. Just don't be disappointed once you have them."

"As if that could happen. Where would one find a man as generous as you, my lord?"

Ilesin clapped the steward on the shoulder, then called for Beni.

"Beni. Come here."

When she came, he nodded toward Artila.

"I have someone I need to see, so look after Artila for me."

"What should I do?"

"Take her to a guest room on the third floor, and give her a change of clothes. She'll be coming to the banquet tonight, so something that suits the occasion, please."

"Okay!"

"Artila, stay with Beni for a bit. As soon as I'm back, we'll go see Sekiana."

"All right."

"If you've got questions, ask Beni all of them. She's practically stamping both feet, dying to show off what she knows."

"I will."

Ilesin bumped fists with Beni in farewell and left. Watching him go, Artila thought that the Ilesin of Findrak was not the Ilesin of Pobern. Come home, he had turned into someone remarkably kind and warm, and the people liked him, treating him as their young lord. Why did he ever leave a place like this? Even if an uncle meant to leave him a castle, it must have taken a great resolve.

Beni said brightly, "Artila, I'll take you to the guest room. Come on."

"All right."

Inside, the entrance opened straight into a hall with a great hearth. Bears and fruit were carved into the pillars and walls there as well.

"If you want to see the market or the streets, just say so. I'll show you around."

"Do you know Zeldia, by any chance?"

"Yeah. I grew up with Zeldia and Nazares. The mage Hisnil is a complete outsider, so I don't really know him."

"I heard Hisnil is from Targal."

"That's right. He and Ilesin met away from home, so I've only seen him once. It was after Ilesin inherited Pobern Castle, when he came back carrying our uncle's remains."

"Is your uncle buried here?"

"Yeah. In the family crypt."

"I'm hearing a great deal about Ilesin's family for the first time. At Pobern, he seemed as if he'd always lived there. I have no memories, so I can't compare him with other lords."

"How much of your memory is gone?"

"Almost all of it, except a little from when I was small. After that, only the knowledge I learned from books and experience is left. When I read a book, or anything written, it comes back at once."

"At least it isn't all gone. That's something."

"I think it's better than having neither."

"If you could choose, which seems better to you?"

"I think it was better that I never got the chance to choose. If the memory of what I know had vanished, I would have been a useless person—but at least I would know who I am. Now I don't know who I am, but I'm of some use."

"Doesn't it make you anxious? Or afraid?"

"Being those things doesn't make anything better, so I decided not to dwell on them. What's happened has happened. Anxiety and fear are only feelings, and feelings don't change what's real. So I have to change the feelings."

"Your adaptability is incredible. If it were me, I think I'd just cry every day."

In truth, Artila had not been sad or afraid from the start. There was no one against whom to measure her lot, and she did not even know what she had lost. You cannot grieve for what you do not know.

"Here we are—the guest room. If you need anything, just say."

Artila looked inside. The ceiling was a little low; a man of Ilesin's height would have to duck to enter. The room itself was pleasant enough. A soft mattress lay on the floor beneath a splendid blanket, and in the center stood a metal stove shaped like a great jar.

"I'll be going. See you this evening."

"All right. See you later. Thank you."

"Let's talk a lot over supper! I've got so many questions."

"Yes, of course."

Beni waved broadly and went downstairs.

Left alone, Artila set her luggage beside the bed and looked out the window. In the yard below, Ilesin was talking with men of the Galt. They all looked about his age, though one of them—married already, by the look of it—had a small child perched on his shoulder. The child was yanking at the hair of the man who seemed to be his father. When Ilesin patted the child at the waist, the boy seized Ilesin's hair instead and tore at it. The father floundered, trying to pry the two apart, but the child had Ilesin's head in both hands and would not let go.

Artila left the room and went down, meaning to meet him as soon as he was free. At the foot of the stairs she heard several people talking together.

"Why's he come, that famous one? I thought he'd live out his life in foreign parts."

She stopped and hid herself beneath the railing.

"I heard he came to borrow soldiers."

"Soldiers? He wants us to stake our lives on their war?"

"If Pobern falls, they say we'll be in danger too."

"And whose fault is it things came to this? Lord Ilesin's. He ought to take the responsibility. If he'd just placated that ducal bastard properly, none of this would have happened. And now that it has—wouldn't it be better to hand Pobern Castle over? The only one tangled up with that man is Lord Ilesin."

"And if they ask him to give his life as well, then what?"

"He's the captain, isn't he? Sacrifice is his duty."

A few people laughed quietly. Human beings can play the wise man as much as they please, so long as the matter is not their own. These were no different. A problem on the far side of a wall is a wonderfully rational thing.

"Fillion, was it?"

"Right. Fillion of Anhar. If Lord Ilesin hadn't humiliated him like that, it might have ended cleanly…"

Artila turned—and stumbled back. Ilesin was right behind her.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to hear what those fellows are saying."

She looked at his hair. It was a wreck, like a nest birds had used and abandoned. She tidied it roughly, then said, "Won't you give them a beating?"

"I don't want to hand them one more thing to curse me for. Leave them."

"Then shall I go and hit them?"

"They're all sturdy men over there. Do you even have a way to hit them properly?"

"And if I do?"

"Don't."

"And if I still want to?"

"I'm grateful. But it's true this is something I have to settle. Whatever the reason, the responsibility itself is mine."

"No guilt, and yet the responsibility is yours. That's unfair."

"Pick at it long enough, and a person starts to feel wronged just for having been born. Come on. Get up."

He held out his hand as he spoke. Artila took it and kissed his wrist.

"Artila?"

"I'm in your debt. You gave me a place to stay, and food to eat. You're my captain, and whatever you do, I'll do it with you."

"That sounds like an oath of fealty. Are you my knight, then?"

"Not quite a knight. Calling myself a mage would weigh on my conscience, and 'your right hand' doesn't quite fit either. Think of me as a hired hand. Whenever you need it, I'll be angry for you, and I'll fight for you. When you're furious, think of me. Tell yourself Artila is angry too."

Ilesin set his forehead against the railing, hiding his face, and laughed under his breath.

"Don't laugh. I'm serious."

"You make me feel like a weak man."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. It's because I'm afraid."

"Afraid? Why on earth would you be afraid?"

"That I might be a weak man."

Artila shook her head.

"Don't think that. To me, you're the strongest person there is, and the safest. You couldn't possibly be weak."

Ilesin's eyes narrowed.

"If you say so, it must be true."

"Of course."

"First, get up. We need to find Sekiana."

Artila rose at once.

"I hope I can get my memories back."

"So do I."

Ilesin led her out through a rear door. She followed the narrow lane with nothing but his back to watch, and soon they came out into a busy quarter. Around the main road, alleys branched like the limbs of a tree.

"There are so many alleys."

"It's a maze. Anyone coming for the first time is sure to get lost. Come here. Mix with the crowd over there, and you'll lose the way."