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OUT SWORDS AND AT THEM!"
In such dreadful weather, bows were
useless. Gerin stooped to pick up a stone
the size of a goose egg. He flung it at the
oncoming monsters, then yelled, "Out
sword and at them!" A moment later, his
own blade slid from its scabbard.
A stone flew past his head. One of the
creatures, at any rate, had wit enough to
think of it as a weapon. Then the fight was
at close quarters, the savagery and strength
of the monsters against the armor and
bronze weapons of Gerin s warriors.
With his long, heavy spear, better made
for use afoot than from a chariot, Van had
an advantage over his monstrous foes: he
could thrust at them long before they closed
with him. But when he sank the leaf-shaped
point into the belly of one screaming crea-
ture, another seized the spearshaTt and
wrenched it out of his hands. He shouted
in shock and dismay; long used to being
stronger than any man he faced, having an
opponent who could match him in might
came as a jolt.
The monster dropped the spear; it pre-
ferred its natural weapons to those made by
art. But when it sprang at Van, he stove in
its head with an overhand blow from his
mace. He needed no second stroke; the fight
with the creature the day before had warned
him to put all his power into the first one.

Baen Books by Harry Turtledove
The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump
Agent of Byzantium
Werenight
Prince of the North
A Different Flesh (forthcoming)

HARRY TURTLEDOVE

Prince of the North	5
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed
in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or
incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Harry Turtledove
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or
portions thereof in any form.
A Baen Books Original
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
ISBN: 0-671-87606-6
Cover art by Larry Elmore
Map by Eleanor Kostyk
First printing, June 1994
Distributed by Paramount Publishing
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Printed in the United States of America

II
Gerin the Fox eyed the new logs in the palisade of
Fox Keep. Even after five years' weathering, they were
easy to pick out, for they'd never been painted with the
greenish glop the wizard Siglorel had concocted to keep
Balamung the Trokme mage from burning the keep
around him. The stuff worked, too, but Balamung had
slain Siglorel even so. Gerin knew something of
magecraft himself, but he'd never been able to match
Siglorel's formulation.
In front of those new logs, a handful of the Fox's
retainers sat on their haunches in a circle. Gerin's four-
year-old son Duren ran from one of them to the next,
exclaiming, "Can I roll the dice? Will you let me roll
them now?"
Drago the Bear held the carved cubes of bone. Rum-
bling laughter, he handed them to Duren, who threw
them down in the middle of the gamblers' circle. "Haw!
Twelve! No one can beat that," Drago said He scooped
up his winnings, then glanced toward Gerin. 'The boy
brings luck, lord."
"Glad to hear it," Gerin answered shortly. Whenever
he looked at his son, he couldn't help thinking of the
boy's mother. When he'd wed Elise, he'd been sure the
gods had granted him everlasting bliss. He'd thought so
right up to the day, three years ago now, when she'd run
offwith a traveling horseleech. Only the gods knew where
in the shattered northlands she was these days, or how
she fared.
The Fox kicked at the dirt. Maybe if he'd noticed she
1

2
Harry Turtledove
wasn't happy, he could have done things to make her so.
Or maybe she'd just tired of him. Women did that, and
men, too. 'The great god Dyaus knows its too late to do
anything about it now," he muttered
'Too late to do anything about what, Captain?" Van
of the Strong Arm boomed as he came out of the stables.
The outlander overtopped Gerin's six feet by as many
inches, and was nearly twice as thick through the shoul-
ders, too; the red-dyed horsehair plume that nodded
above his helmet only made him seem taller. As usual,
he kept his bronze corselet polished almost to mirror
brilliance.
'Tears too late for us to do anything about getting
imperial troopers up here," Gerin answered He was
the sort who guarded private thoughts even from his
closest friends.
Van spat on the ground "That for imperial troopers.
It was too late for those buggers five years ago, when the
carrion-stinking Empire of Elabon shut all the passes into
the north sooner than help us keep the Trokmoi out"
"Dyaus knows we could have used the imperials then,"
Gerin said "We could use them still, if they'd come and
if—''
"If they'd keep their hands off what's yours," Van fin-
ished for him.
"Well, yes, there is that," Gerin admitted: he was given
to understatement
Van wasn't. He snorted, back deep in his throat
"Honh! There is that,' he says. You think the Emperor
of Elabon would be happy with the title you've gone
and taken for yourself? You know what he'd do if ever
he got his hands on somebody who styled himself the
Prince of the North, don't you? He'd nail you to the
cross so the ravens could sit on your shoulders and pick
out your eyes, that's what"

Prince of the North
3
Since Van was undoubtedly right, Gerin shifted the
terms of the argument He did the same thing whenever
he and his fhend wrestled, using guile to beat strength and
weight In wrestling as in argument, sometimes it worked
and sometimes it didn't He said, Tm not the only one in
the northlands with a fancy new title since Elabon aban-
doned us. Td have company on the crucifying grounds/'
"Aye, so you would," Van said. 'Whats Aragis the
Archer calling himself these days? Grand Duke, that's it
Honh! He's just a jumped-up baron, same as you. And
there's two or three others of your Elabonian blood, and
as many Trokmoi who came south over the Niffet with
Balamung and stayed even after the wizard failed"
"I know." Gerin didn't like that For a couple of cen-
turies, the Niffet had been the boundary between the
civilization of the Empire of Elabon—or a rough, fron-
tier version of it, at any rate—on one side and
woodsrunning barbarians on the other. Now the bound-
ary was down, and Elabon's abandoned northern prov-
ince very much on its own.
Van tapped Gerin on the chest with a callused fore-
finger. "But I tell you this, Captain: you have the loftiest
title, so he'd nail you highest."
"An honor I could do without," the Fox said. "Besides,
it's quarreling over shadows, anyhow Elabon's not com-
ing back over the mountains. What I really need to worry
about is the squabbles with my neighbors—especially
Aragis. Of the lot of them, he's the ablest one."
"Aye, he's near as good as you are, Captain, though
not so sneaky."
"Sneaky?" Since Gerin's devious turn of mind was what
had earned him his Fox sobriquet, he couldn't even deny
that He changed the subject again: "You're still calling
me 'Captain' after all these years, too. Is that the sort of
respect the Prince of the North deserves?"

4
Harry Turtledove
Til call you what I bloody well please/' Van retorted,
"and if one fine day that doesn't suit your high and mighti-
ness, well, I'll up and travel on. I sometimes think I should
have done it years ago." He shook his head, bemused
that after a lifetime of wandering and adventure he
should have begun to put down roots.
Gerin still did not know from what land his friend
had sprung; Van never talked of his beginnings, though
he had yarns uncounted of places he'd seen. Certainly
he was no Elabonian. Gerin made a fair representative
of that breed: on the swarthy side, long-nosed and long-
faced, with brown eyes and black hair and beard (now
beginning to be frosted with gray).
Van, by contrast, was blond and fair-skinned, though
tan; his bright beard was that improbable color between
yellow and orange. His nose had been short and straight.
These days it was short and bent, with a scar across the
bridge. His bright blue eyes commonly had mischief in
them. Womenfoundhim fascinating and irresistible. The
reverse also applied
"Roll the dice?" Duren squealed "Roll the dice?"
Van laughed to hear Gerin s son say that. "Maybe we'll
roll the dice ourselves later on, eh, Captain? See who
goes to Fand tonight?"
"Not so loud," Gerin said, looking around to make
sure their common mistress wasn't in earshot "She'll
throw things at both of us if she ever finds out we do that
sometimes. That Trokme temper of hers—" He shook
his head.
Van laughed louder. "A dull wench is a boring wench.
I expect that's why I keep coming back to her."
"After every new one, you mean. Sometimes I think
there's a billy goat under that cuirass, and no man at all,"
Gerin said Van might have settled in one place, but his
affections flew wild and free as a gull.

Prince of the North
5
"Well, what about you?' he said "Ifher temper doesn't
suit you, why don't you put her on a raft and ship her
back over the Niffet to her clansfolk?"
"Dyaus knows I've thought about it often enough,"
Gerin admitted After Elise left him, he'd thought about
swearing off women forever. No matter what his mind
said, though, his body had other ideas. Now he laughed,
ruefully. "If either of us truly fell in love with her, we'd
be hard-pressed to stay friends."
"Not so, Captain," Van answered. "If one of us fell in
love with her, the other would say take her and wel-
come. If we both did, now—"
"You have me," Gerin admitted He kicked at the dirt,
annoyed at being outreasoned even in something as small
as this. But if you couldn't grant someone else's reason
superior when it plainly was, what point to reasoning at
all?
Van said, "I think I'll roll the dice myself for a while.
Care to join?"
"No, I'm going to take another pass at my sorcery, if
you know what I mean," Gerin said.
"Have a care, now," Van said. "You're liable to end up
in more trouble than you know how to get out of."
"Hasn't happened yet," Gerin answered "I have the
measure of my own ignorance, I think." He'd studied a
bit of magic in the City of Elabon as a young man, back
in the days when people could travel back and forth
between the northlands and the heart of the Empire,
but had to give up that and history both when the Trokmoi
killed his father and elder brother and left him baron of
Fox Keep.
"I hope you do," Van said. Pulling broken bits of sil-
ver from a pouch he wore on his belt, he made for the
dice game. Before he could sit down, Duren sprang at
him like a starving longtooth. He laughed, grabbed the

6
Harry Turtledove
boy, and threw him high in the air three or four times.
Duren squealed with glee.
Gerin made for a little shack he'd built over in a back
corner of the courtyard. It was far enough from the pali-
sade that, if it caught fire, it wouldn't burn down the
castle outwall along with itself. Thus far, he hadn't even
managed to set the shack ablaze.
"Maybe today," he muttered He was going to try a
conjuration from a new grimoire he'd bought from a
lordlet to the southwest whose grandfather might have
been able to read but who was himself illiterate and proud
of it. As with most spells in grimoires, it sounded won-
derful. Whether results would match promises was
another question altogether.
The codex of the grimoire had silverfish holes on sev-
eral of its pages, and mice had nibbled its leather bind-
ing while it lay forgotten on a high shelf in a larder. The
spell in which Gerin was interested, though, remained
unmutilated In a clear hand, the mage who'd composed
it had written, "A CANTRIP WHICH YIELDETH A
FLAMING SWORD."
That yieldeth had made Gerin suspicious. Along with
wizardry and history, he'd studied literature down in the
City of Elabon. (And where, he wondered, will Duren
be able to learn such things, if he should want to? The
answer was mournfully clear: in the northlands, nowhere)
He knew Elabonian hadn't used those archaic forms for
hundreds of years, which meant the author was trying to
make his work seem older than it was.
But a flaming sword... false antique or no, he reck-
oned that worth looking into. Not only would it make
ferocious wounds, the mere sight of it should cast terror
into the hearts of his foes.
He hefted the bronze blade he'd use. It was hacked

Prince of the North
7
and notched to the point where it would almost have
made a better saw than sword. Bronze was the hardest,
toughest metal anyone knew, but it wasn't hard enough
to hold an edge in continued tough use.
Gerin had the crushed wasps and bumblebees and
the dried poison oak leaf he'd need for the symbolic
element of the spell. Chanting as he worked (and wear-
ing leather gauntlets), he ground them fine and stirred
them into melted butter. Hie grimoire prescribed olive
oil as the basis for the paste, but he'd made that substitu-
tion before and got by with it. It was necessary; the olive
wouldn't growin the northlands, and supplies from south
of the High Kirs had been cut off.
He was readying himself for the main conjuration
when someone poked his head into the hut. "Great
Dyaus above, are you at it again?" Rihwin the Fox asked
His soft southern accent reminded Gerin of his student
days in the City of Elabon every time he heard it
"Aye, I am, and lucky for you at a place where I can
pause," Gerin answered. If anyone had to interrupt him,
he preferred it to be Rihwin. The man who shared his
ekename knew more magic than he did; Rihwin had
been expelled from the Sorcerers' Collegium just before
his formal union with a familiar because of the outra-
geous prank he'd played on his mentor.
He walked into the hut, glanced at the sword and the
preparations Gerin had made for it. He'd stopped shav-
ing since he ended up in the northlands, but somehow
still preserved a smooth, very southern handsomeness.
Maybe the big gold hoop that glittered in his left ear had
something to do with that
Pointing to the wood-and-leather bucket full of water
that stood next to the rude table where Gerin worked,
he said, 'Tour precautions are thorough as usual."
Gerin grunted "You'd be working here beside me if

8
Harry Turtledove
you took them, too." Rihwin had been rash enough to
summon up Mavrix, the Sithonian god of wine also widely
worshiped in Elabon, after Gerin had earned the tem-
peramental deity's wrath. In revenge, Mavrix robbed
Rihwin of his ability to work magic, and left him thank-
ful his punishment was no worse.
"Ah, well," Rihwin said with an airy wave of his hand.
"Dwelling on one's misfortunes can hardly turn them to
triumphs, now can it?"
"It might keep you from having more of them," Gerin
replied; he was as much given to brooding as Rihwin
fought shy of it He'd concluded, though, that Rihwin
was almost immune to change, and so gave up the skir-
mish after the first arrow. Bending over the grimoire
once more, he said, "Let's find out what we have here."
The spell was no easy one; it required him to use his
right hand to paint the sword blade with his mixture
while simultaneously making passes with his left and
chanting the incantation proper, which was written in
the same pseudoarchaic Elabonian as its title.
He suspected the mage of deliberately requiring the
left hand for the complex passes to make the spell more
difficult, but grinned as he incanted: being left-handed
himself, he was delighted to have his clumsy right doing
something simple.
The painting and passes done, he snatched up the
sword and cried, "Let the wishes of the operator be
accomplished!"
For a moment, he wondered if anything would hap-
pen. A lot of alleged grimoires were frauds; maybe that
was why this one had sat unused on a shelf for a couple
of generations. But then, sure enough, yellow-orange
flames rippled up and down the length of the blade.
They neither looked nor smelled like burning butter; they
seemed more the essence of fire brought down to earth.

Prince of the North
9
"That's marvelous," Rihwin breathed as Gerin made
cut-and-thrust motions with the flaming sword. "It—■"
With a sudden foul oath, Gerin rammed the sword
into the bucket of water. A hiss and a cloud of steam
arose; to his great relief, the flames went out He cau-
tiously felt the water with a forefinger. When he discov-
ered it remained cool, he stuck in his hand. "Cursed hilt
got too hot to hold," he explained to a pop-eyed Rihwin.
"Oh, that feels good"
'"Which, no doubt, is the reason we fail to find blazing
blades closely clenched in the fierce fist of every peer-
less paladin," Rihwin answered "Many a spell that seems
superb on the leaves of a codex develops disqualifying
drawbacks when actually essayed."
"You're right about that," Gerin answered, drying his
hand on the thigh of his baggy wool breeches. Everyone
in the northlands wore trousers; the Trokme style had
conquered completely Even Rihwin, who had favored
southern robes, was in breeches these days. Gerin
inspected his left palm. "I don't think that's going to blis-
ter."
"Smear butter or tallow on it if it does," Rihwin said,
"but not the, ah, heated mixture you prepared there."
"With the poison oak leaves and all? No, I'll get rid of
that." Gerin poured it out of its clay pot onto the ground.
After a bit of thought, he scooped dirt onto the greasy
puddle. If the sole of his boot happened to have a hole,
he didn't want the stuff getting onto his skin.
He and Rihwin left the shack. Shadows were length-
ening; before long, no one would want to stay outdoors.
Ghosts filled the night with terror. A man caught alone
in the darkness without sacrificial blood to propitiate
them or fire to hold them at bay was likely to be mad
come morning.
Gerin glanced to the sky, gauging the hour by the

10
Harry Turtledove
moons. Nothos' pale crescent hung a little west of south;
golden Math, at first quarter looking like half a coin, was
about as far to the east. And ruddy Elleb (pinkish white
now, washed out by the late afternoon sun), halfway
between quarter and full, stood well clear of the eastern
horizon. The fourth moon, quick-moving Tiwaz, would
be a waning crescent when the serfs went out to work
just after sunrise tomorrow.
As if Gerin s thinking of the serfs he ruled had brought
them to new life, a mournful horn blew in the village
close by Fox Keep, calling men and women in from the
fields.
Gerin looked at the moons again, raised one eyebrow
in a characteristic gesture. 'They're knocking off early
today," he remarked T think I may have to speak to the
headman tomorrow."
"He'll not love you for making him push the other
peasants harder," Rihwin said.
Who does love me, for any reason? Gerin wondered
His mother had died giving birth to him; maybe because
of that, his father had always been distant. Or maybe his
father simply hadn't known what to do when he got him-
self a thinker instead of a brawler.
His son Duren loved him, aye, but now it was his turn
to have trouble returning that love, because whenever
he saw Duren, he thought of Elise. She'd loved him for
a while, until passion cooled.. . and then just disap-
peared, with only a note left behind begging him not to
go after her. It was, in fact, very much the way she'd fled
with him from her father's keep.
He didn't feel like going into any of that with Rihwin.
Instead, he answered, "I don't care whether Besant
Big-Belly loves me or not." That, at least, was true. "I do
care that we grow enough to get through the winter, for
if we don't, Besant will be big-bellied no more."

Prince of the North
11
"He would say, did he dare, that all the peasants would
be bigger-bellied did they not have to pay you a fourth
of what they raised," Rihwin observed
"He could say it to my face, and well he knows it,"
Gerin returned. "I'm not a lord who makes serfs into
draft animals that happen to walk on two legs, nor do I
take the half some barons squeeze from them. But if I
took nothing, who would ward them from the chariot-
riding wolves who'd swoop down on them?"
He waited for Rihwin to say something like, 'They
could do it for themselves/' He was ready to pour scorn
on that idea like boiling water splashing down from the
top of a palisade onto the heads of attackers. Farmers
didn't have the tools they needed to be fighters: the horses,
the chariots, the swords, the armor. Nor did they have
the time they needed to learn to use those tools; the end-
less rhythms of fields and livestock devoured their days.
But Rihwin said, "My fellow Fox, sometimes you don't
know when you're being twitted."
Denied his chance to rend Rihwin with rhetoric, Gerin
glared. He walked around to the front of the castle.
Rihwin tagged along, chuckling. As they went inside,
another horn sounded from a more distant village, and
then another almost at the edge of hearing. Gerin said,
"You see? If one village knocks off early, they all do it, for
they hear the first horn and blow their own, figuring
they don't want to work any harder than the fellows down
the trail."
"Who does like to work?" Rihwin said.
"No one with sense," Gerin admitted, "but no one
with sense will avoid doing what he must to stay alive.
The trouble is, not all men are sensible, even by that
standard"
"If you think I'll argue with that, you're the one who's
not sensible," Rihwin said

12
Harry Turtledove
The great hall of the castle occupied most of the
ground floor. A fire roared in the stone hearth at the far
end, and another, smaller, one in front of the altar to
Dyaus close by. Above the hearth, cooks basted chunks
of beef as they turned them on spits. Fat-wrapped thigh-
bones, the gods portion, smoked on the altar. Gerin
believed in feeding the god well; moreover, after his brush
with Mavrix, he figured he could use all the divine pro-
tection he could get
Two rows of benches ran from the doorway to the
hearth. In winter, seats closest to the fire were the choice
ones. Now, with the weather mild, Gerin sat about half-
way down one row A couple of dogs came trotting
through the rushes on the rammed-earth floor and lay
at his feet, looking up expectantly.
"Miserable beggars," he said, and scratched their ears.
"I don't have any food myself yet, so how can I throw
you bones and scraps?" The dogs thumped their tails on
the ground They knew they got fed sooner or later when
people sat at those benches. If it had to be later, they
would wait
Van and Drago the Bear and the other gamblers came
in, chattering about the game. Duren frisked among
them. When he saw Gerin, he ran over to him, exclaim-
ing, "I rolled the dice a lot, Papa! I rolled double six
twice, and five-and-six three times, and—"
He would have gone down the whole list, but Van
broke in, "Aye, and the little rascal rolled one-and-two
for me, and sent me out of that round without a tunic to
call my own." He shook a heavy fist at Duren in mock
anger. Duren, safe beside his father, stuck out his tongue.
"The dice go up, the dice go down," Drago said, shrugging
shoulders almost as wide as Vans. From him, that passed
for philosophy. He was a long way from the brightest

Prince of the North
13
of Gerins vassals, but a good many more clever men
managed their estates worse. Since Drago never tried
anything new, he discovered no newfangled ways to go
wrong.
Gerin called to one of the cooks, "We have enough
here to begin. Fetch ale for us, why don't you?"
"Aye, lord prince," the man answered, and hurried
down into the cellar. He returned a moment later, stag-
gering a little under the weight of a heavy jar of ale. The
jar had a pointed bottom. The cook stabbed it into the
dirt floor so the jar stood upright He hurried off again,
coming back with a pitcher and a double handful of tarred
leather drinking jacks. He set one in front of everybody
at the table (Duren got a small one), then dipped the
pitcher into the amphora, pouring and refilling until every
jack was full.
'Take some for yourself, too," Gerin said; he was not
alordwhostintedhis servants. Grinning, the cook poured
what looked like half a pitcher down his throat. Gerin
slopped a little ale out of his mug onto the floor. 'This
for Baivers, god of barley," he intoned as he drank.
'This for Baivers," the others echoed as they poured
their libations. Even Van imitated him: though Baivers
was no god of the outlander's, the deity, whose scalp
sprouted ears of barley instead of hair, held sway in this
land.
Rihwin made a sour face as he set down the mug. "I
miss the sweet blood of the grape," he said
"Point the first: the grape doesn't grow in the
northlands and we've lost our trade south of the High
Kirs," Gerin said "Point the second: when you drink too
much wine, dreadful things happen. We've seen that
again and again. Point the third: wine lies in Mavrix's
province, and have you not had your share and more of
commerce with Mavrix?"

14
Harry Turtledove
'True, all true," Rihwin said sadly. "I miss the grape
regardless."
The cooks came round with bowls of bean-and-parsnip
porridge, with tiny bits of salt pork floating in it to give it
flavor. Like everyone else, Gerin lifted his bowl to his
lips, wiped his mouth on his sleeve when he was done.
South of the High Kirs, they had separate squares of
cloth for cleaning your face and fingers, but such refine-
ments did not exist north of the mountains.
Off the spit came the pieces of beef. While one cook
carved them into man-sized portions, another went back
to the kitchen and came out with round, flat, chewy loaves
of bread, which he set in front of each man at the table.
They d soak up the juices from the meat and get eaten
in their turn.
Gerin patted the empty place between Van and him.
'Tut one here, too, Anseis. Fandis sure to be down before
long."
"Aye, lord prince," the cook said, and did as he was
asked
Duren started tearing pieces from his round of bread
and stuffing them into his mouth. Gerin said, "If you fill
yourself up with that, boy, where will you find room for
your meat?"
Til put it someplace." Duren patted his stomach to
show the intended destination.
Just as the cook who was carving the beef started load-
ing steaming gobbets onto an earthenware tray, Fand
did come down from Castle Fox's living quarters into
the great hall. Gerin and Van glanced over at each other,
smiled for a moment, and then both waved her to that
place between them.
"Och, you're still not after fighting over me," she said in
mock disappointment as she came up. Beneath the mock
disappointment, Gerin judged, lay real disappointment

Prince of the North
15
She might have resigned herself to their peacefully shar-
ing her, but she didn't like it
Hoping to gether off that bloodthirsty turn of thought,
Gerin called for a servant to pour her a jack of ale. He
handed it to her himself. "Here you are."
"I thank you, sure and I do." Her Elabonian held a
strong Trokme lilt. She was a big, fair woman, not too
much shorter than the Fox, with pale skin dusted with
freckles wherever the sun caught it, gray-blue eyes, and
wavy, copper-colored hair that tumbled past her shoul-
ders. To Gerin, men of that coloring were enemies on
sight; he still sometimes found it odd to be sharing a bed
with a woman from north of the Niffet
Not odd enough to keep me from doing it, though, he
thought. Aloud, he said to Fand, "Should I have put you
on a boat across the river after all?"
"Twould have been your own loss if you had," she
retorted, tossing her head so the torchlight glinted in
her hair. One thing she had was unshakeable self-
confidence—and why not, when two men such as they
danced to her tune?
Gerin said, "My guess is still that you stuck a knife
into the fellow who brought you south over the Niffet"
"I've told you before, Gerin dear: I brought my own
self over, thinking life might be more lively here. Och,
and so it has been, not that I reckoned on yoking myself
to a southron—" she paused to half turn and make eyes
at Van "—let alone two."
"7'ra no Elabonian," Van boomed indignantly, "and
I'll thank you not to call me one. One fine day I hitch a
team to a chariot or just go off afoot—"
"How many years have you been saying that?" Gerin
asked
"As many as I've been here, no doubt, less maybe one
turn of the fastest moon." Van shook his head, forever

16
Harry Turtledove
bemused he could stay in one place so long. "A tree,
now, has need of growing roots, but a man—?"
"A man?' Fand said, still trying to stir up trouble.
"You'll quarrel over whether you're a southron or no,
but not over me? What sort of man is that after making
you?"
"You should remember well enough from last night
what sort of man I am." Van looked like a cat that had
fallen into the cream pitcher.
Fand squeaked indignantly and turned back to Gerin.
'Will you be letting him speak to me so?"
"Aye, most likely I will," he said. If she got fed up and
left them both, he'd be sorry for a while, but he knew
he'd also be relieved. He didn't feel like a screaming
fight now, though, so he said, "Here comes the meat"
That distracted her. It distracted him, too. He drew
his dagger from his belt and started carving strips off the
bone in front of him and popping them into his mouth.
The dagger, like the rest of his personal gear, was
severely plain, with a hilt of nothing more splendid than
leather-wrapped bone. But it had good balance, and he
kept the edge sharp; sometimes he used plainness to
conceal effectiveness.
Van, by contrast, had the hilt to his knife wrapped in
gold wire, with a big topaz set into the pommel. For
him, flamboyance served the same purpose self-
effacement did for Gerin: it disguised the true warrior
beneath. Being dangerous without seeming so, Gerin
had found, made the danger double.
Thinking thus, he glanced over at Fand, who was slic-
ing with her own slim bronze blade. Was she disguising
something? He snorted and took a long pull at his ale.
No, concealment wasn't in her nature. But he'd thought
as much about Elise, and where had that got him?
Duren said, "Papa, will you help me cut more meat?"

Prince of the North
17
He had a knife, too, but a small one, and not very sharp.
That helped keep him from getting cut, but it also kept
him from eating very fast
Gerin leaned over and sliced off several strips for him.
"Splash water on your face when you're done," he said.
He remembered how surprised and delighted he'd been
to discover the elaborate hot and cold baths the City of
Elabon boasted North of the High Kirs, as best he knew,
there was only one tub, and it wasn't at his holding. Not
without a pang, he'd gone back to being mostly dirty
most of the time.
Fand made eyes first at Van, then at him. "Och, a
woman gets lonely, that she does."
"If you're lonely with the two of us to keep you warm
at night, would you try a bandit troop next?" Van said
She cursed him in the Trokme language, Elabonian
not being satisfying enough for her. Van swore back in
the same tongue; he'd traversed the gloomy forests of
the Trokmoi before he swam the Niffet (towing his pre-
cious armor behindhim on a makeshift raft) and splashed
up inside Gerin s holding.
"Will you be letting him speak to me so?" Fand
demanded of the Fox once more.
"Probably," he answered. She picked up her drinking
jack and threw it at him. She had more fury than finesse.
It splashed down behind him and sprayed ale onto a
couple of the hounds quarreling over bones. They sepa-
rated with a yelp. Fand sprang to her feet and stomped
upstairs.
"Not often dull around here," Van observed to no one
in particular.
"It's not, is it?' Gerin said. "Sometimes I think I'd find
a bit of dullness restful." He hadn't known much, not
since he came back over the Kirs to take over his father's
holdings and especially not since the Trokmoi and their

18
Harry Turtledove
wizard Balamunginvadedthe northlands. Balamungwas
dead now, without even a grave to hold him, but too
many Trokmoi still raided and settled on this side of the
Niffet, adding one more volatile element to already
touchy politics.
Gerin emptied his own jack in a fashion more con-
ventional than Fand's, went over to the amphora, and
poured it full again. Some of his vassals were already
swilling themselves into insensibility. If I want dull, he
thought, all I need do is listen to the talk around this
table. Dice, horses and chariots, crops, women ... no
new ideas anywhere, just old saws trotted out as if they
were fresh-minted from pure gold He longed for the
days when he'd sat in students' taverns, arguing sorcer-
ous techniques and the shape of the historical process.
Rihwin the Fox knew the pleasures of intellectual con-
versation, but Rihwin also knew the pleasures of the wine
jar or, that failing, the ale pot He might complain about
having to pour down ale, but that didn't stop him from
doing quite a lot of it And, at the moment, he had a
serving girl on his lap. He would have done a better job
of fumbling at her clothes had his hands been steadier.
Van knew his letters; he'd made a point of learning
them when he discovered Elabonian could be written.
He even spoke well of its alphabet; Gerin gathered he'd
run across other, more cumbersome ways of noting down
thoughts in his travels. But learning his letters did not
make him interested in quoting poetry, except for infor-
mational content, let alone analyzing it.
As for Germs own vassal barons, most of them thought
reading a vaguely effeminate accomplishment (he won-
dered why; even fewer women than men were literate).
They'd learned better than to say so to him, and had
learned he was a good fighting man in spite of having a
room that stored several dozen scrolls and codices. But

Prince of the North
19
that didn't mean they grew interested in thinking, too.
Gerin sighed and drank more ale himself. Sometimes
he thought slipping back into near barbarism easier than
trying to maintain the standards of civilization he'd
learned south of the High Kirs. Which is the way civili-
zation falls apart, said the part of him that had studied
history.
After one more jack of ale, he didn't feel like arguing
with that part any more. Rihwin and the girl had wan-
dered off. Drago the Bear snored thunderously on the
floor, and took no notice when one of the dogs walked
over him. Duren was asleep, too; the little boy had curled
up, catlike, on his bench.
Van, on the other hand, was wide awake and looked
more sober than Gerin felt The Fox raised an eyebrow
at him. "What would you?" he asked "Shall we roll the
dice after all?"
"For the lass, you mean?" Van shook his massive head
"You go to her tonight, if you've a mind to. She'd sweeten
up for me in a bit, I expect, but I haven't the patience to
get through the shouting that'd come first. I'll drink a bit
more and then maybe sleep myself."
"All right" Gerin lifted Duren off the bench. His son
wriggled a little, but did not wake. As he carried Duren
upstairs, the Fox was grateful for the banister he'd added
to the stairway when he came back from the south. With
it, he was much less likely to trip and break not only his
neck but the boy's.
He set Duren on the bed in his own chamber, hoping
his son would wake up if he had to piddle in the night.
Otherwise, the mattress would need some fresh straw.
With Duren in his arms, the Fox hadn't been able to
carry a lamp or a taper up to the bedchamber with him.
That left it black as a bandit's heart inside. He stumbled
over some wood toy or other that he'd carved for Duren

20
Harry Turtledove
and almost fell on his face. Flailing his arms, he man-
aged to keep himself upright and, with a muttered curse,
went out into the hallway.
A couple of failing torches cast a dim red light there,
enough, at least, to let him see where he put his feet. The
walk to the next chamber was a matter of just a few steps.
He rapped on the door, wondering if Fand had fallen
asleep. If she didn't answer, he'd go back to his own bed
But she did "Which of you is it, now?"
Maybe it was the ale, but Gerin felt mischievous. He
deliberately deepened his voice and put on a slight gut-
tural accent: 'Which d'you think?''
He heard her take three rapid strides toward the door.
She threw it open and blazed, "Van of the Strong Arm, if
you're after thinking y'can—•" Then, by the torchlight
and the brighter flame of the candle beside her bed, she
realized it wasn't Van standing there. She scowled at
Gerin. "You're a right devil to befool me so, and I ought
to be slamming the door on the beaky nose of you."
He looked down that member at her. 'Well?" he said
when she didn't do as she'd threatened
"Well, indeed," she said, and sighed. "Must be I'm
the fool, for taking up with a southron man—worse, for
taking up with a southron man and his great galoon of a
friend, the both of them at once. Often enough I've said
it, but—" Her face softened "Since I am the fool, you
may as well come in."
She stood aside to let him pass, closed the door behind
him. She kept the room scrupulously neat; it was, by all
odds, the cleanestpart of the castle. Gerin knew the tunics
and skirts and drawers in the cedar chest against the wall
would all be folded just the same way. Beside that chest,
her sandals and shoes stood in precise pairs. He lavished
that much care only on his weapons, where it could be a
matter of life or death.

Prince of the North
21
Fand must have been mending a tunic when he
knocked: it lay on the wool coverlet to her bed Candle-
light glistened from the polished bone needle she'd used
She picked up the tunic, set it on the chest She nodded
toward the candle. "Shall I blow it out?"
"Please yourself," he answered "You know I like to
look at you, though."
That won him a smile. "You southrons are sweeter in
the tongue than men of my own folk, I'll say so much for
you. Maybe there's the why of my staying here. A Trokme
chief, now, he'd just tell me to be after spreading my
legs and waste no time about it."
Gerin s skeptical eyebrow rose. "My guess is that any
man who told you such a thing would be likelier to get a
knife in the brisket than anything else."
"Sure and that's the very thing he got, the black-
hearted omadhaun," she said "Why d'you think a pub-
lone woman would come to your keep at sunset, seek-
ing shelter from the ghosts? Had his kin caught me, they'd
have burned me in a wicker cage, that they would"
He knew she was right—that or some other equally
appalling fate. South of the High Kirs, they crucified
their miscreants. He reckoned himself merciful: if a man
needed killing, he attended to it as quickly and cleanly
as he could. But he'd killed his share and more, these
past few years.
His other thought was that Fand calling herself a poor
lone woman was about as accurate as a longtooth claim-
ing it was a pussycat. At need, she likely could have
shouted down the ghosts.
She cocked her head to one side, sent him a curious
look. "What is it you're waiting for? I've no knife the
now, nor even a needle."
"And a good thing, too, I say." He took a step toward
her, she one toward him. That brought them together.

22
Harry Turtledove
Her face lifted toward his, her arms went round his neck.
She was cross-grained, quarrelsome, cantankerous—
Gerin had never settled on just the right word, but it lay
somewhere in that range. On the wool coverlet,
though ... she bucked like a yearling colt, yowled like a
catamount, and clawed his back as if she were part wol-
verine.
In a way, it was immensely flattering. Even when he'd
pleased Elise, which hadn't been all the time (nor, in the
end, nearly often enough), she'd given little sign. With
Fand, he had no room for doubt there. But a passage
with her sometimes put him more in mind of riding out
a storm than making love: the pleasure he felt afterwards
was often tempered with relief for having got through it.
Their sweat-slick skins slid against each other as he
rolled off her. 'Turn over," he said
'Turn over, is it?" she said "Why tell me that? You're
not one of those who-do-you-call-thems—Sithonians,
that's it—who like boys and use their women the same
way And I'm not one for that, as well you know." But,
the warning delivered, she did roll onto her belly.
He straddled the small of her back and started rub-
bing her shoulders. The warning growls she'd let out
turned to purrs. Her flesh was warm and firm under his
hands. "Is that too rough?" he asked as he dug in with
his thumbs.
She grunted but shook her head; her bright hair
flipped back and forth, with a few shining strands cover-
ing his fingers and the backs of his hands. "You've summat
here we never found north o' the Niffet," she said "Sure
and there may be more to this civilization you're always
after prating of than I thought or ever I came to Fox
Keep."
He wondered if he should tell her the best masseur
he'd ever known, down in the City of Elabon, was a

Prince of the North
23
Sithonian who would have been delighted to do more
with him than merely rub his back. He decided against
it the more people in the northlands who cherished civi-
lization, for whatever reason, the better off the war-torn
country would be.
As Gerin's hands moved from her shoulders down
her spine, he moved down, too. After a bit, Fand
exclaimed sharply, "I told you, I'm not one for—" She
broke off, then giggled. "What a sneak of a man y are, to
put it in the right place from the wrong side." She looked
back at him over her shoulder. "Different this way."
"Better? Worse?" Even in such matters, even at such
a time, he liked to know exactly how things went
But she laughed at him. "How can I tell you that,
when weve hardly begun?" They went on, looking for
the answer.
Gerin woke the next morning when Duren got out of
bed to use the chamber pot. The light in the bedchamber
was gray. The sun hadn't risen yet, but it would soon.
Gerin got out of bed himself, yawned, stretched, and
knuckled his eyes: the ale he'd drunk the night before
had left him with a bit of a headache.
"Good morning, Papa," Duren said
"Good morning," Gerin answered, yawning again; he
woke up slowly He tousled the boy's hair. "I'm glad you're
using the pot Are you finished? My turn, then." When
he was through, he pulled on the tunic and trousers he'd
tossed on the floor after he came back from Fand's room.
They didn't have any new spots he could see, so what
point in changing? People were more fastidious on the
other side of the High Kirs, but not much.
Duren underfoot like a cat, Gerin walked down the
hall to the stairs. Snores came from Fand's chamber.
Louder snores came from Van's, one door further down.

24
Harry Turtledove
In the great hall of the keep, some of the Foxs vassals
were already up and stirring; others lay bundled in blan-
kets on straw pallets. The fire in the altar still burned,
holding night ghosts at bay
The doors that led out into the yard stood open, to
give the great hall fresh air and clear out some of the
smoke from the cookfires. Gerin picked his way through
the warriors and went outside. In the east, Tiwaz's thin
crescent stood low in the brightening sky. The other three
moons had set
Torches smoked along the palisade. Even so, Duren,
who had followed his father into the yard, whimpered
and said, "I don't like the ghosts yelling in my ears, Papa."
To Gerin, the cries of the night spirits were not yells
but whimpers and faint wails, none of them understand-
able. As he had fires lit and had given the ghosts blood in
the great hall, they were not likely to do him or Duren
harm. He set his jaw and endured the cries he heard
only with his mind's ear. Children, though, were sup-
posed to be more sensitive to the spirits than adults.
A couple of minutes later, the first rays of the rising
sun touched the top of the tall watchtower that stood
above the keep. The ghosts sounded fhghtened for an
instant, then vanished back into whatever gloomy haunt
was theirs while the sun ruled the sky.
"A new day," Gerin said to Duren. 'This is the time
for living men to go abroad in the world." He patted the
boy's back, heartening him against the terror that flut-
tered with the ghosts.
Van of the Strong Arm came out a few minutes later,
whistling loudly but off-key. Smoke poured from
windows and doorways as the cooks built up the fire to
heat the morning porridge. Van squinted as a strand of
smoke stung his eyes. 'There ought to be a way to cook
your food without smoking eveiyone who eats it as if

Prince of the North
25
he were a sausage," the burly outlander complained
Gerin narrowed his eyes, too, but not at die smoke.
There ought to be a way was a phrase that always set
him thinking. Sometimes nothing came of it, but some-
times things did He said, "Remember the newfangled
footholders Duin the Bold came up with so he wouldn't
go over his horse's tail if he tried to ride? Maybe we
could find a new way to get rid of smoke, too."
"Remember what happened to Duin? He got him-
self killed with his newfangled scheme, that's what Me,
I'd sooner fight from a chariot any day." For all his wan-
dering, for all the strange things he'd seen and done,
Van remained at heart a profoundly conservative man.
Gerin had more stretch to him. "I think this business
of riding to war will end up coming to something: a horse
alone can cross terrain where a chariot can't go. But you
have a special trouble there—where will you find a beast
to bear your bulk?"
"I've never been small; that's a fact," Van said compla-
cently. "From the rumbles in my belly, though, I'll be
thin if I don't put something in there soon. They'll have
bread and meat from last night to go with the porridge,
won't they?"
"If they don't, they'll be looking for a new master by
this time tomorrow," Gerin answered Van clapped his
big hands together and hurried back inside.
The morning proved busy. Gerin always kept some-
one in the watchtower. life had been dangerous enough
before the Trokmoi swarmed south over the Niffet. Now
danger could come from any direction at any time. When
the lookout's horn blew, men up on the palisade reached
for their weapons; the gate crew got ready to pull up the
drawbridge and defend Castle Fox against barbarians
or men of Elabon.
But after he winded the horn, the watchman cried,

26
Harry Turtledove
'"Tis but a single man approaching—a trader, by the look
of him."
Sure enough, the fellow was no harbinger of a raven-
ing horde: he drove a two-horse team from a small, neat
wagon. "Dyaus give you a good day, sir," Gerin greeted
him when he rolled into the courtyard. The Fox glanced
at the sun. 'To get here so early in the day, you must
have spent last night in the open."
'That I did, lord prince," the man answered. He was
small and neat himself, with a shortsighted gaze and
hands with long, slim fingers. "I bought a couple of chick-
ens from a peasant—likely a serf of yours—and their
blood in a trench warded me against the ghosts. Otes
son of Engelers I am, maker and purveyor of jewelry of
all descriptions, and also ready to do tinker's work if you
have pots and such that need patching."
"Aye, we have a few of those," Gerin said. "If you
know the secret of proper soldering, youll make a bit of
silver before you leave here. I've tried, but without much
in the way of luck. But jewelry, now—hmm." He won-
dered if he could find a piece Fand would like at a price
that didn't make his own thrifty soul quail.
Van came up to the wagon and, from the thoughtful
look on his face, might have had the same idea. But what
he said was, "You're not the least brave man I ever
met, Master Jeweler, if you take your wares through this
bandit-raddled countryside alone."
Otes Engelers' son dipped his head to the outlander.
"You are gracious, sir. I traveled up into the Fox's lands
from those of Aragis the Archer. Few bandits try to make
a living in your holding, lord Gerin, or in his—few who
aren't vassals styling themselves barons, at any rate." He
smiled to show that was meant as a joke.
"Aye, Aragis is a strong man." Gerin let it go at that
One of these days, he and Aragis were liable to fight a

Prince of the North
27
war. The prospect would have bothered him less had he
been less afraid he might lose.
"Show us these jewels of yours," Van boomed.
Otes, as he'd said, had adornments of all descriptions,
from polished copper with "gems" of glass paste to gold
and emeralds. Before he'd opened all his little cedar
chests to display the baubles inside, Fand came out of
the casde to admire them with her two men. Suddenly
she pointed to a brooch. "Isn't that pretty, now?" she
breathed. "Sure and it must be Trokme work. It fair puts
me in mind of my auld village on the far side of the
Niffet, that it does."
Smiling, the jeweler picked it up and held it in the
palm of his hand. It was a circular piece, about three
fingers broad, decorated with spirals half silver and half
inlaid, polished jet. "As a matter of fact, my lady, I made
this one myself, and I'm as Elabonian as they come,"
Otes said. 'That it is from a northern pattern, though,
I'll not deny."
"Twould suit the very tunic I have on me," Fand said,
running a hand across the dark blue woad-dyed linen.
She looked from one of her paramours to the other.
Van, who'd quarreled with her the night before, weak-
ened first. With a cough, he said, "Master Otes, perhaps
you'll be good enough to tell me what outrageous price
you're asking for this chunk of tin and dirt."
'Tin?" Otes screeched. "Dirt? Are you blind, man?
Are you mad? Feel the weight of that metal. And look at
the care and the workmanship I put into the piece, shap-
ing the tiny slivers of jet one by one and slipping each
into its place—•"
"Aye, tell me more lies," Van said.
Sensing that the dicker would go on for some time,
Gerin took his leave. He figured he had time to walk out
to the village by Fox Keep, talk with Besant Big-Belly

28
Harry Turtledove
about knocking off too early, and be back before Van
and Otes had settled on a price. He knew how stubborn
Van could be, and the jeweler looked to have mule's blood
in him, too.
But before the Fox could walk out over the draw-
bridge, the lookout in the watchtower winded his horn
again. He called down, "A chariot approaches, lord Gerin,
with what looks to be a Trokme chieftain and two of his
men."
"Just a chariot?" Gerin shouted up. "No army
attached?"
"I see only the one, lord," the lookout answered. A
moment later, he added, "The chieftain is holding up a
green-and-white striped shield: he comes under sign of
truce."
Gerin called to the gate crew, "When you spy him,
give him sign of truce in return. We'll see what he wants."
Before the invasions, he'd have attacked any northerners
he caught on his holding. Now the Trokmoi were pow-
ers south of the Niffet. However much it galled him, he
had to treat with them.
"Who comes?" one of the men at the gate called to
the approaching chariot
"It's Diviciacus son of Dumnorix I am, liegeman to
himself himself, the great chief Adiatunnus son of
Commus, who's fain to have me bring his words to Gerin
the Fox," the chieftain answered in Elabonian that lilted
like Fand's. "No quarrel, no feud, stands between us the
now."
The Trokmoi had slain Gerin s father and brother. As
far as he was concerned, that put him eternally at feud
with them. Moreover, he reckoned them deadly danger-
ous to the remnants of civilization that survived in the
northlands after Elabon had cut the province loose. But
in a narrow sense, Diviciacus was right no active fighting

Prince of the North
29
went on between Adiatunnus' men and those of the Fox.
Dropping into the Trokme tongue, Gerin said, "If its
the Fox you're seeking, I am he. Aye, I grant the truce
between your chief and my own self. Come sit yourself
by my hearth, drink a stoup of ale, and tell me
Adiatunnus' words at your comfort and leisure."
Diviciacus beamed. He was a tall, thin, pale man with
a lean, wolfish face, clean-shaven but for a straggling
mustache of bright red. He wore a checked tunic and
baggy wool trousers tucked into boots; a long, straight
bronze sword hung from his belt. The other warrior in
the chariot and its driver might have been poured into
the same mold as he, save that one of them had sandy
hair and mustache, the other blond.
Inside the smoky great hall, Diviciacus gulped down
his first jack of ale, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, belched
loudly, and said, "Sure and you're after living up to the
name you have for hospitality, lord Gerin, that y are."
Gerin could take a hint. He filled the Trokme s drink-
ing jack again, then said, "And what would Adiatunnus
wish with me, pray?" The northern chieftain controlled
several holdings a fair distance south and west of Fox
Keep. Of all the Trokmoi who'd settled south of the
Niffet, he was probably the most powerful, and the most
adept at riding—and twisting—the swirling political cur-
rents of the northlands.
Diviciacus came to the point with barbarous direct-
ness: "Himself wants to know if you're of a mind to join
forces with. him and squeeze the pimple called Aragis
off the arse of mankind."
"Does he?" Gerin said. In a way, that was logical: Aragis
blocked Gerin's ambitions no less than Adiatunnus'. In
another way... "Why wouldn't I be more likely to com-
bine with a man of my own blood against an invader?"
"Adiatunnus says he reckons you reckon Aragis more

30
Harry Turtledove
a thorn in your side than his own self." Diviciacus smiled
at die subtlety of his chief s reasoning, and indeed it was
more subtle than most northerners could have produced
Hie envoy went on, "Forbye, he says that once die Archer
is after being cut into catmeat, you can go your way and
he his, with no need at all for the twain of ye to clomp
heads like bull aurochs in rutting season."
"He says that?" Gerin didn't believe it would work so;
he didn't think Adiatunnus believed it, either. Which
meant—
He was distracted from what it meant when Duren
came in and said, Tm bored, Papa. Play ball with me or
something."
"A fine bairn," Diviciacus said "He'd have, what—
four summers on him?" At Gerin's nod, the Trokme also
nodded, and went on, "Aye, he's much of a size with my
youngest but one, who has the same age."
Gerin was so used to thinking of Trokmoi as warriors,
as enemies, that he needed a moment to adjust to the
notion of Diviciacus as a fond father. He supposed he
shouldn't have been taken aback; without fathers, the
Trokmoi would have disappeared in a generation (and
the lives of all the Elabonians north of the High Kirs
would have become much easier). But it caught him by
surprise all the same.
To Duren, he said, "I can't play now. I'm talking with
this man." Duren stamped his foot and filled himself full
of air, preparatory to letting out an angry screech. Gerin
said, "Do you want my hand on your backside?" Duren
deflated; his screech remained unhowled Convinced his
father meant what he said, Duren went off to look for
amusement somewhere else.
"Good on you for training him to respect his elders,
him still so small and all," Diviciacus said "Now tell me
straight howyou fancy the notion of your men and those

Prince of the North
31
of Adiatunnus grinding Aragis between 'em like wheat
in the quern."
"It has possibilities." Gerin didn't want to say no
straight out, for fear of angering Adiatunnus and of giv-
ing him the idea of throwing in with Aragis instead The
Fox reckoned Aragis likely to be willing to combine with
the Trokme against his own holdings; no ties of blood or
culture would keep Aragis from doing what seemed
advantageous to him.
"Possibilities, is it? And what might that mean?"
Diviciacus demanded
It was a good question. Since Gerin found himself
without a good answer, he temporized: "Let me take
counsel with some of my vassals. Stay the night here if
you care to; eat with us, drink more ale—by Dyaus I
swear no harm will come to you in Fox Keep. Come the
morning, I'll give you my answer."
"I'm thinking you'd say aye straight out if aye was in
your heart," Diviciacus said dubiously. "Still, let it be as
you wish. I'll stay a bit, so I will, and learn what you'll
reply But I tell you straight out, you'll befool me with
none o' the tricks that earned you your ekename."
Since persuading the Trokme not to leave at once in
high dudgeon was one of those tricks, the Fox main-
tained a prudent silence. He suspected Diviciacus and
his comrades would use the day to empty as many jars
of ale as they could. Better ale spilled than blood, he told
himself philosophically.
Fand came in, wearing the silver-and-jet brooch just
above her left breast. Diviciacus' eyes clung to her. "My
leman," Gerin said pointedly.
That recalled to Diviciacus the reason he'd come.
"If you've allied with us so, why not on the field of war?"
he said, hope for success in his mission suddenly
restored

32
Harry Turtledove
"As I said, 111 talk it over with my men and tell you in
the morning what Ive decided." Gerin went out to the
courtyard, where Van was practicing thrusts and parries
with a heavy spear taller than he was. The outlander, for
all his size, moved so gracefully that he made the exer-
cise seem more a dance than preparation for war.
When Gerin told him what Adiatunnus had proposed,
he scowled and shook his head. "Making common cause
with the Trokme would but turn him into a grander threat
than Aragis poses."
"My thought was the same," Gerin answered. "I
wanted to see if you saw anything on the other side to
change my mind." Van shook his head again and went
back to his thrusts and parries.
Gerin put the same question to Drago. The Bears
response was simpler: "No way in any of the five hells I
want to fight on the same side with the Trokmoi. Ive
spent too much time tryin to kill them buggers." That
made Gerin pluck thoughtfully at his beard Even had
he been inclined to strike the bargain with Adiatunnus,
his vassals might not have let him.
He went looking for Rihwin to get one more view.
Before he found him, the lookout called, "Another man
approaches in a wagon."
"Great Dyaus, three sets of visitors in a day," Gerin
exclaimed Sometimes no one from outside his holding
came to Fox Keep for ten days, or twenty. Trade—indeed,
traffic of any sort—had fallen off since the northlands
went their own way. not only did epidemic petty warfare
keep traffic off the roads, but baronies more and more
either made do with what they could produce themselves
or did without
"Who comes?" called a warrior up on the palisade.
"I am a minstrel, Tassilo by name," came the reply—
in, sure enough, a melodious tenor. "I would sing for my

Prince of the North
33
supper, a bed for the night, and whatever other generosity
your gracious lord might see fit to provide."
Tassilo? Gerin stood stock-still, his hands balling into
fists. The minstrel had sung down at the keep of Elises
father, Ricolf the Red, the night before she went off with
Gerin rather than letting herself be wed to Wolfar of the
Axe. Just hearing Tassilo s name, and his voice, brought
those memories, sweet and bitter at the same time, well-
ing up in the Fox. He was anything but anxious to listen
to Tassilo again.
But all the men who heard the minstrel name himself
cried out with glee: "Songs tonight, by Dyaus!" "Maybe
he'll have ones we've not heard." "A lute to listen to—
that'll be sweet"
Hearing that, Gerin Iqiew he could not send the man
away. For his retainers, entertainment they didn't have
to make themselves was rare and precious . If that enter-
tainment made him wince, well, he'd endured worse.
Sighing, he said, 'The minstrel is welcome. Let him come
in."
When Tassilo got down from his light wagon, he
bowed low to the Fox. "Lord prince, we've met before,
I think. At Ricolf s holding, was it not? The circumstances,
as I recall, were irregular." The minstrel stuck his tongue
in the side of his cheek.
"Irregular, you say? Aye, there's a good word for it.
That's the business of a minstrel, though, isn't it?—com-
ing up with words, I mean." Being moderately skilled in
that fine himself, Gerin respected those who had more
skill at it than he. He eyed Tassilo. "Curious you've not
visited Fox Keep since."
"I fled south when the Trokmoi swarmed over the
Niffet, lord prince, and I've spent most of my time since
then down by the High Kirs," Tassilo answered. He had
an open, fhendly expression and looked as much like a

34	Harry Turtledove
fighting man as a singer, with broad shoulders and a slim
waist In the northlands, any traveling man had to be a
warrior as well, if he wanted to live to travel far.
"What brought you north again, then?" Gerin asked
"A baron's daughter claimed I got her with child. I
don't think I did, but he believed her. I thought a new
clime might prove healthier after that"
Gerin shrugged. He had no daughter to worry about
He said, 'The men look forward to your performance
tonight." Lying a little, he added, "Having heard you those
years ago, so do I." The minstrel could sing and play, no
doubt about that The Foxs memories were not Tassilo's
fault
After a few more pleasantries, Gerin strode out over
the drawbridge and headed for the peasant village a few
hundred yards away. Chickens and pigs and skinny dogs
foraged among round huts of wattle and daub whose
thatched conical roofs projected out far enough to hold
the rain away from the walls. Children too young to work
in the fields stared at Gerin as he tramped up the muddy
lane that ran through the middle of the village.
He stuck his head into Besant Big-Belly's hut, which
was little different from any of the others. The headman
wasn't there, but his wife, a scrawny woman named
Marsilia, sat on a wooden stool spinning wool into thread.
She said, "Lord, if you're after my man, he's out weed-
ing the garden."
The garden was on the outskirts of the village. Sure
enough, Besant was there, plucking weeds from a patch
of vetch. Not only did he have a big belly, he had a big
backside, too, which at the moment stuck up in the air.
Resisting the urge to kick it, Gerin barked, "Why have
you been blowing the horn with the sun only halfway
down the sky?"

Prince of the North
35
Besant jerked as if Gerin had kicked him after all.
He whirled around, scrambling awkwardly to his feet
"L-lord Gerin," he stuttered. "I didn't hear you come
up."
"If you don't want more unexpected visits, make sure
you work the full day," Gerin answered 'We'll all be
hungrier come winter for your slacking now."
Besant gave Gerin a resentful stare. He was a tubby,
sloppy-looking man of about fifty in homespun colorless
save for dirt and stains here and there. "I shall do as you
say, lord prince," he mumbled. 'The ghosts have been
bad of late, though."
"Feed them more generously, then, or throw more
wood on the nightfires," Gerin said "You've no need to
hide in your houses from an hour before sunset to an
hour past dawn."
Besant nodded but still looked unhappy. The trouble
was, he and Gerin needed each other. Without the serfs,
Gerin and his vassal barons would starve. That much
Besant Big-Belly knew. But without the barons, the little
villages of farmers would be at the mercy of Trokmoi
and bandits: peasants with pitchforks and scythes could
not stand against chariots and bronze armor and spears
and swords. The headman did his best to ignore that
half of the bargain.
Gerin said, "Remember, I'll be listening to hear when
you blow the horn come evening." He waited for Besant
to nod again, then walked off to see how the village fared
The gods willing, he thought, the harvest would be
good Wheat for bread, oats for horses and oatmeal,
barley for ale, rye for variety, beans, peas, squashes: all
grew well under the warm sun. So did row on row of
turnips and parsnips, cabbage and kale, lettuce and spin-
ach. Gardens held vetch, onions, melde, radishes, garlic,
and medicinal herbs like henbane.

36
Harry Turtledove
Some fields stood vacant, the grass there lengthening
for haymaking. Cattle and sheep grazed all the way out
to the edge of the trees in others. A couple of lambs
butted heads. 'They might as well be barons," Gerin
murmured to himself.
The peasants were hard at it as usual: weeding like
Besant, repairing wooden fences to keep the animals
where they belonged, unbaling straw to repair a leaky
roof—all the myriad tasks that kept the village going.
Gerin stopped to talkwithafew of the serfs. Most seemed
content enough. As overlords went, he was a mild one,
and they knew it.
He spent more time in the village than he'd intended;
the sun was already sinking toward the treetops when
he headed back to Fox Keep. No, Besant won't blow the
horn early tonight, not with me here so long., he thought.
We'U have to see about tomorrow.
When he returned to the castle, the cooks were full of
praise for the way Otes son of Engelers had fixed half a
dozen pots. The Fox nodded approvingly. The large sale
the jeweler had made to Fand (or rather, to Van) hadn't
kept him from doing the other half of his job. On seeing
Otes himself, Gerin invited him to stay for supper and
pass the night in the great hall. By the way he grinned
and promptly accepted, the neat little man had been
expecting that
In the great hall, Tassilo was fitting a new string to his
lute and plucking at it to put it in proper tune. Duren
watched him in pop-eyed fascination. "I want to learn to
do that, Papa!" he said
"Maybe you will one day," Gerin said Stored away
somewhere was a lute he'd had as a boy. He'd never
been much good with it, but who could say what his son
might accomplish?

Prince of the North
37
After supper, Tassilo showed what he could do. "In
honor of my host," he said, "I shall give you some of the
song of Gerin and the dreadful night when all the moons
turned full together." He struck a plangent chord from
the lute and began.
Gerin, who had lived through that dreadful night five
years before, recognized little of it from the minstrel's
description. Much of that had to do with the way Tassilo
composed his song. He didn't create it afresh from noth-
ing; that would have overtaxed even the wits of
Lekapenos, the great Sithonian epic poet
Instead, like Lekapenos, Tassilo put his song together
from stock bits and pieces of older ones. Some of those
were just for the sake of sound and meter; the Fox quickly
got used to hearing himself called "gallant Gerin" every
time his name was mentioned. It saved Tassilo, or any
other poet, the trouble of having to come up with a new
epithet every time he was mentioned in the story.
And some of the pieces of old songs were ones Gerin
had heard before, and which didn't perfectly fit the tale
Tassilo was telling now. The bits about battling the
Trokmoi went back to his boyhood, and likely to his
grandfather's boyhood as well. But that too was part of
the convention. More depended on the way the min-
strel fit the pieces together than on what those pieces
were.
All the same, Gerin leaned over to Van and said, "One
thing I remember that Tassilo isn't saying anything about
is how bloody fhghtened I was."
"Ah, but you're not a person to him, not really," Van
replied. "You're gallant Gerin the hero, and how could
gallant Gerin be afraid, even with every werebeast in the
world trying to tear his throat out?"
"At the time, it was easy," Gerin said, which won a
laugh from Van. He'd been through the werenight with

38
Harry Turtledove
Gerin. "Bold Van," Tassilo called him, which was true
enough, but he hadn't been immune to fear, either.
And yet, the rest of Tassilo s audience ate up the song.
Drago the Bear, who'd gone through his own terrors
that night, pounded on the table and cheered to hear
how Gerin had surmounted his: it might not have been
true, but it sounded good Duren hung on Tassilo's every
word, long after the time he should have been asleep in
bed
Even the Trokmoi, whose fellows had been on the
point of putting an end to Gerin when the chaos of the
werenight saved him, listened avidly to the tale of their
people's discomfiture. Well-turned phrases and songs of
battle were enough to gladden them, even if they came
out on the losing side.
Tassilo paused to drink ale. Diviciacus said to Gerin,
"Give me your answer now, Fox, dear. I've not the
patience to wait for morning.''
Gerin sighed. "It must be no."
"I thought as much," the Trokme said "Yes is simple,
but no needs disguises. You'll be after regretting it"
"So will your chief, if he quarrels with me," the Fox
answered. 'Tell him as much." Diviciacus glared but nod-
ded.
When Gerin, who was yawning himself, tried to pick
up Duren and carry him off to bed, his son yelled and
cried enough to make the Fox give it up as a bad job. If
Duren wanted to fall asleep in the great hall listening to
songs, he'd let him get away with it this once. Gerin
yawned again. He was tired, whether Duren was or not
With a wave to Tassilo, he headed for his bedchamber.
What with Fand and Van in the next room, the noise
up there proved almost as loud as what the minstrel
made, and even more distracting. Gerin tossed and
turned and grumbled and, just when he finally was on

Prince of the North
39
the point of dropping off, got bitten on the cheek by a
mosquito. He mashed the bug, but that woke him up
again. He lay there muttering to himself until at last he
did fall asleep.
Because of that, the sun was a quarter of the way up
the sky when he came back down to the great hall. Van,
who was just finishing a bowl of porridge, laughed at
him: "See the slugabed!"
Td have gotten to sleep sooner if someone I know
hadn't been making such a racket next door," Gerin said
pointedly.
Van laughed louder. "Make any excuse you like. You
outslept your guests, no matter what. All three lots of
them are long gone."
'They want to get in as much travel as they can while
the sun's in the sky Td do the same in their boots." Gerin
looked around. "Where's Duren?"
"I thought he was with you, Captain," Van said. "Didn't
you take him up to bed the way you usually do?"
"No, he wanted to listen to Tassilo some more." Gerin
dipped up a bowl of porridge from the pot over the fire,
raised it to his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, "He's
probably out in the courtyard, making mischief."
In the courtyard he found Drago the Bear pouring a
bucket of well water over the head of Rihwin the Fox.
Both of them looked as if they'd seen the bottoms of
their drinking jacks too many times the night before.
"No, I've not seen the boy all morning," Drago said
when Gerin asked him.
"Nor I," the dripping Rihwin said. He added, "If he
made as much noise as small boys are in the habit of
doing, I'd remember seeing him ... painfully" His eyes
were tracked with red. Yes, he'd hurt himself last night
Gerin frowned. 'That's—odd." He raised his voice.
"Duren!" He put two fingers in his mouth, let out a long,

40
Harry Turtledove
piercing whistle that made Rihwin and Drago flinch.
His son knew he was supposed to come no matter
what when he heard that call. He also wasn't supposed
to go by himself too far from Castle Fox to hear it. Wolves
and longtooths and other wild beasts roamed the woods.
So, sometimes, did wild men.
But Duren did not come. Now Gerin began to worry.
Maybe, he thought, the boy had gone off to the peasant
village. He'd done that alone once or twice, and got his
backside heated for it. But often a boy needed a lot of
such heatings before he got the idea. Gerin remembered
he had, when he was small.
He walked over to the village, ready to thunder like
Dyaus when he found his son. But no one there had
seen Duren, either. A cold wind of dread in his belly,
Gerin went back to Castle Fox. He sent men out in all
directions, beating the bushes and calling Duren's name.
They came back scratched by thorns and stung by wasps,
but without the boy.
Duren was missing.

II
Gerin paced between the benches in the great hall,
making Rihwin and Van and Drago move out of the way.
"One of those three must have snatched him," he said
"Diviciacus or Tassilo or Otes. I can't believe Duren
would go wandering offwherewe couldn't find him, not
of his own accord"
"If you're right, Captain, we've eaten up a lot of the
day looking around here," Van said
"I know," Gerin answered unhappily. "I'll go out and
send others in chariots as well, even so; if Dyaus and the
other gods are kind, one of us will catch up with our—
guests." He spat the last word. Guest-friendship was
sacred; those who violated it could expect a long, unhappy
time in the afterlife. Unfortunately, though, fear of that
didn't paralyze all rogues.
"Who'd want to steal a little boy?" Drago the Bear
growled. His big hands moved in the air as if closing
round a neck.
Gerins more agile wits had already started pursuing
that one. "Diviciacus might, to give Adiatunnus a hold
on me," he said. "I don't think Adiatunnus would have
ordered it—who could guess ahead of time if the chance
would come up?—but I don't think he'd turn down a
gift like that if it fell into his lap."
"Duren might give him a hold for now, but he'd get
nothing but grief from you later," Van said
"Aye, but since I turned him down for a joint move
on Aragis, he's liable to think he'd get only grief from me
anyhow," the Fox answered, thinking, He's liable to be
41

42
Harry Turtledove
right, too. Aloud, he went on, "Speaking of Aragis, Otes
the jeweler came from his lands. And Aragis might not
turn down a hold on me, either."
"You're right there, too," Drago said, making more
choking motions.
"You're leaving out Tassilo," Van said
"I know." Gerin kicked aside a dog-gnawed bone. "I
can't think of any reason he'd want to harm me."
"I can," Rihwin the Fox said
"Can you indeed?" Gerin said, surprised "What is
it?'
Rihwin coughed; his smoothly handsome face went a
couple of shades pinker than usual. "You'll recall, lord,
that when last you made the acquaintance of this Tassilo,
I was in the process of, ah, disqualifying myself from
marrying the fair Elise. I hadn't tasted wine in too long,
you understand."
"Disgracing yourself is more like it," Van said, blunt
as usual. Gloriously drunk, Rihwin had stood on his head
on a table at Ricolf the Red's and kicked his legs in the
air . . . while wearing a southern-style toga and no
drawers.
He coughed again. "Perhaps your word is more accu-
rate, friend Van, though not calculated to make me feel
better about the incident or myself. Be that as it may, I
resume: Elise having found you no more to her taste,
lord Gerin, than her father did me, she might possibly
have engaged the services of this minstrel to rape away
the boy for her to raise."
Gerin bit down on that like a man whose teeth closed
on a worm in an apple. Ever since Elise left him, he'd
done his best not to think about her; whenever he did, it
hurt He had no idea where in the northlands she was,
whether she was still with the horse doctor with whom
she'd gone away, or even whether she still lived. But

Prince of the North
43
what Rihwin said made enough sense that he had to ask
himself those questions now.
Slowly, he answered, "Aye, you're right, worse luck;
that could be so." He plucked at his beard as he weighed
odds. "I still think the Trokmoi are likeliest to have sto-
len Duren, so Van and I will go southwest after them.
Which way did Tassilo fare?"
"West, toward the holding of Schild Stoutstaff, or that's
where he told the gate crew he was heading," Drago
answered.
Gerin grunted. If Tassilo had Duren with him, he
might well have lied about his chosen direction. Or he
might not have. Schild had been the leading vassal to
Wolfar of the Axe. He wasn't a deadly foe to Gerin, as
Wolfar had been, but he was no great friend, either.
Though he'd acknowledged the Fox his suzerain after
Gerin killed Wolfar, he forgot that whenever convenient.
He might shelter Tassilo, or at least grant him safe pas-
sage.
"All right, Rihwin," Gerin said. "You ride west to
Schild's border, and past it if his guards give you leave. If
they don't—■" He paused for effect 'Tell them they, and
their overlord, will have cause to regret it."
Rihwin nodded. "As you say."
"Now, Otes," Gerin said.
Again, Drago answered: "He said he was heading east
along the Emperor's Highway, to see if Hagop son of
Hovan had tinker's work for him. He didn't think he'd
sell Hagop much in the way of jewelry: 'skinflint' was
the word he used, I think."
"For Hagop, it's a good one," Gerin said judiciously
"All right, you go after him, then."
"I'll do that, lord," Drago said, and strode out of the
great hall. Gerin was as sure as if his eyes could follow
that Drago was heading for the stables to hitch his team

44
Harry Turtledove
to his chariot, and that he'd ride out after Otes the minute
the job was done. To Drago, the world was a simple place.
His liege lord had given him an order, so he would fol-
low it Gerin sometimes wished he couldn't see all the
complications in the world around him, either.
Van said, "You'll want me to ride with you, eh, Cap-
tain? We'll need a driver as well, if we're to take on
Diviciacus and his friends on even terms."
"You're right on both counts," Gerin said He thought
about adding another chariot and three-man team of
warriors, too, but decided against it Van was worth a
couple of ordinary men in a fight, and the Fox did not
denigrate his own skill with his hands. And Raffo
Redblade, who'd been driving for them for years, hadn't
earned his ekename by running from fights. The Fox
added, "And we'll send Widin Simrin's son south to ask
what Aragis knows. Van, find him—he'll be in the court-
yard somewhere—and get him moving, too."
The decision made, Gerin took his armor down from
the wall and put it on: bronze greaves first, then leather
cuirass faced with scales of bronze, and last of all a plain
pot of a helmet None of it was polished; none of it looked
the least bit fancy—the Fox left that to Van. But his own
gear was sound. It did what he wanted it to do: it kept
edged and pointed metal from splitting his flesh. As far
as he was concerned, nothing else mattered
He slung his quiver over his shoulder, took down his
bow, and then grabbed his shield. That was a yard-wide
disk of leather and wood, with bronze edging to keep
swordstrokes from chewing it up.
Most Elabonian warriors had gear much like the Fox's.
Some men went in for gold or silver ornamentation, but
he wanted nothing of the sort: curlicues and inlays could
catch and hold a point, while rich armor made a man a
special target on the battlefield

Prince of the North
45
With his outlandish armor, Van of the Strong Arm
was always a target on the battlefield, but no one yet had
been able to strip his crested helm and two-piece corse-
let from him. Along with his spear, he carried a sword, a
mace, and several daggers. He was also a fine archer,
but did not use the bow in combat, affecting to despise
slaying foes from afar as unmanly.
"Foolishness," Gerin said, as he had many times
before. "As long as you're alive and the other fellow isn't,
nothing else matters. You get no points for style, not in
war you don't"
Van brandished his spear. "Captain^ that's never been
a problem." His grin showed only a couple of broken
teeth, more evidence (as if more were needed) he was
more dangerous with weapons in hand than anyone he'd
run up against.
Practical as usual, Gerin went into the kitchens and
filled a leather sack with twice-baked bread that would
keep indefinitely (and that needed someone with good
teeth to eat it) and strips of smoked mutton even tougher
than the bread. If he had to fight from the chariot, the
sack would go over the side. If he didn't, he and Van and
Raffo could travel for a few days without worrying about
supplies.
Gerin shouldered the bag and carried it out to the
stables. Raffo, a gangling young man with pimples along
the margin of his beard, looked up from hitching the
horses to either side of the chariot shaft. "Be good to get
out on the road, lord Gerin," he said, getting the animals
into the double yoke and securing them to the shaft with
straps that ran around the front of their necks.
"It would be better if we were going out for a differ-
ent reason," Gerin said heavily. Raffo's face fell; he'd
forgotten that. The Fox had given up on expecting tact
from his men. They were, he sometimes thought with

46
Harry Turtledove
something approaching despair, only a couple of steps
more civilized than the Trokmoi. Improving that was a
matter for generations, not just years; even keeping them
from falling back into barbarism often seemed none too
easy.
He stowed his shield on the brackets mounted on the
inside of the car. It made the side wall higher. Van walked
into the stables then. His place in the chariot was on the
right side. He set his shield into its stowage place, too,
and grunted approvingly when he saw the sack of sup-
plies.
'That's good," he said. "Now we'll just need to buy a
fowl from the peasants if we camp out in the open, or
bleed out our prey if we go hunting: have to give the
ghosts something, after all."
"Aye." Gerin's voice was abstracted. 'The chase won't
be easy. Diviciacus and his friends have half a day's start
on us, and more than one road they can choose to go
back bo Adiatunnus—and we don't even know they have
my boy." He wanted to scream in rage and fear. Instead,
he grew more quiet and withdrawn than ever; he was
not one to show worry on the outside.
"Only one way to find out," Van said.
'True, true." Gerin turned to Raffo. "Are you done
harnessing the beasts?" By way of answer, the young
driver vaulted into the car. The Fox clapped him on the
back. "Good. Let's travel."
The six-spoked wheels began to spin. The bronze tires
on those wheels rattled and clattered as they bounced
over pebbles. Gerin felt every tiny thing the wheels went
over, too. Had he not needed the most speed he could
get, and had he not thought he might have to fight to get
Duren back, he would have taken a wagon instead But
the chariot it had to be.
"A day of standing in this car and we'll wobble on

Prince of the North
47
solid ground like sailors coming off a ship long at sea," he
said The chariot rumbled out through the gateway, over
the drawbridge, and away from Fox Keep.
"Speak to me not of sailing," said Van, who had done
his share of it "You're not likely to get seasick in the car
here, and that's a fact—a fact you can thank the gods for,
too. I've puked up my guts a time or three, and Ive no
wish to do it again."
"South and west," Raffo said musingly. 'Which road
would they have taken, lord Gerin? Would they have
fared south down the Elabon Way and then gone straight
west toward Adiatunnus' castle? Or do you think they
went along the lesser roads that run straighter between
here and there?"
The Fox rubbed his chin as he considered. At last he
said, "If they're going down the Elabon Way, Widin will
come on them, for he's taking that road toward Aragis'
holding."
"He'd be one against three," Van pointed out.
Gerin grimaced "I know. But he wouldn't be foolish
enough to attack them. If they have Duren, and he finds
out about it, he'll get word back to the keep. We can
plan what to do next—go to war with Adiatunnus, I
expect."
"I didn't think you wanted to do that yet, lord Gerin,"
Raffo said.
"I don't," Gerin answered, "but I will. But if we go the
same way Widin has, we narrow the search more than I
want I aim to throw my net as wide as I can, hoping to
catch something in one strand of the mesh."
"Aye, makes sense to me," Van said, which eased the
Fox's mind somewhat: his burly friend had a keen eye
for tactics, though Gerin reckoned himself more adept
in planning for years ahead,
Raffo steered the team down a way that headed

48
Harry Turtledove
toward Adiatunnus' lands. Within a couple of minutes,
the clearing where Gerin s serfs scratched their living
from the soil disappeared behind the chariot Forest
closed in on either side of the road, which, but for the
ruts from wagons and chariots, might have been a game
track. Branches reached out and tried to slap the Fox in
the face.
He held up an arm to turn them aside. Whenever he
went down a back road like this one, he was struck by
how lightly civilization rested on the northlands. The stink
of the castle midden, and the bigger one in the peasant
village, were out of his nostrils now; the woods smelled
green and growing, as if man with his stinks had never
come this way. In the virgin pines and elms, robins sang
sweetly, chickadees twittered, and jays cried their harsh,
metallic calls. A red squirrel flirted its tail as it clam-
bered up a tree trunk.
But Gerin knew better than to idealize the forest, as
some Sithonian poets (most of whom had never set foot
outside the City of Elabon) were wont to do. Wolves
ranged through the woods; in hungry winters they'd go
after flocks or the herders who tended them. Longtooths
would take men as they would any other prey, winter or
summer. And the aurochs, the great wild ox of the for-
est, was nothing to take lightly—a fewyears before, Gerin
had almost died under the horns and trampling hooves
of a rogue bull.
He motioned for Raffo to stop the chariot. With a
puzzled look, the driver obeyed. But for the bird calls
and the soft purling of a stream somewhere off out of
sight, silence closed down like a cloak. To the Fox, who
was comfortable with only himself for company, it felt
pleasant and restful.
Van, though, quickly started to fidget. He pulled a
baked-clay flute from a pouch on his belt and began

Prince of the North
49
playing a tune whose notes ran in no pattern familiar to
Elabonian music. 'That's better," he said. 'Too bloody
quiet here."
Germ swallowed a sigh and tapped Raffo on the shoul-
der. "Let's get going again. I'd sooner listen to jingling
harness than to Van's tweedles."
"Aye, lord Gerin. Now that you mention it, so would
I." Raffo flicked the reins. The horses snorted resent-
fully—they'd started cropping the grass that grew
between the ruts—and trotted down the road.
At the next village, Gerin asked the serfs if they'd seen
the chariot full of Trokmoi come past. They all shook
their heads, as if they'd not only not seen such a thing
but never heard of it, either.
The Fox scowled. "We're too far north or too far south,
and Dyaus only knows which: that or they've gone down
the Elabon Way as Raffo feared" He pounded his fist
on the chariot rail in frustration.
'Too far north'd be my guess," Van said. 'The track
we were on curved, I think, till it ran nearer west than
southwest."
"I didn't note that myself, but you're most often right
about such things," Gerin said "Raffo, the next road we
come on that heads south, you take it till it crosses one
leading in the direction we really want to go." Or until it
peters out, he thought: not all paths connected to others.
The peasants watched as their overlord rode out of
the village. Though still on land he ruled directly rather
than through one of his vassal barons, he seldom came
here save when collecting what was due him each fall.
He wondered what the serfs thought of this unexpected
appearance. Most likely, they were relieved he hadn't
demanded anything of them.
Shadows lengthened as the chariot rattled and
rumbled through woods that seemed to grow ever

50
Harry Turtledove
thicker. "I wonder if this road ever does join up with
anything else," Van said
"If it doesn't pretty bloody soon, we're going to have
to turn back and head for that last village to buy a couple
of chickens," Gerin said "I don't want to have to count
on just fire to keep the ghosts away"
Raffo pointed with his free hand "Looks like more
light up ahead, lord Gerin. Might be only a meadow,
mind you, but it might be fields, too, and fields mean
another village."
It was fields; Gerin felt like cheering. No sooner had
the chariot emerged from the woods than the quitting
horn called the peasants in from their labor. The Fox
looked around "Yes, I know this place—Pinabel Odd-
Eyes is headman here. I'm used to coming here from
the west, though, not out of the north."
Pmabel's left eye was blue, his right brown. Brown
and blue both widened when Gerin rolled into the cen-
ter of the village. Pinabel bowed very low. "L-lord prince,
what brings you here?" he stammered
The nervousness he showed made Gerin wonderwhat
sort of cheating he was doing, but he'd have to worry
about that later. "My son's been kidnapped," he
announced baldly Pinabel and the other serfs who heard
exclaimed in dismay; family ties mattered to them, not
least because those were almost all too many of them
had. He went on, "I think three Trokmoi who visited
Fox Keep yesterday may have taken him."
That brought more murmurs from the peasants. They
were even more afraid of the Trokmoi than of night
ghosts, and with reason: the ghosts could be propitiated,
but the woodsrunners ravaged as they pleased. But when
Gerin asked if Pinabel and the others in the village had
seen the chariot Diviciacus and his comrades were riding,
they all denied it

Prince of the North
51
He believed them, much as he wished he thought
they were lying Pinabel said, 'They might have gone
through by way of the next road south. Its very great, I
hear, though I have never traveled far enough to see it"
"Maybe." Gerin didn't have the heart to tell the head-
man that next road was just another muddy track. Like
most serfs, Pinabel had never traveled more than a few
hours' walk from where he was born.
"Will you stay with us till morning, lord prince?"
Pinabel asked. "Night comes soon." He gestured to the
east, where Elleb, only a day before full, had already
risen. Math hunghalfway up the sky while Nothos, almost
at first quarter, showed near enough where south lay.
And in the west, the sun was near the horizon. When it
set, the ghosts would come out
But Gerin shook his head "I want to push on as long
as I may—every moment may prove precious. Sell me
two chickens, if you would, so I can give the ghosts blood
when they come."
"Aye, lord prince." Pinabel hurried away. He returned
a couple of minutes later with a pair of hens, their legs
tied with strips of rawhide. Gerin gave him a quarter of
a silverpiece for them: probably more than they were
worth, but the smallest bit of money he had in the pouch
at his belt Pinabel Odd-Eyes bowed himself almost
double.
As the chariot bounced away, Raffo observed, "Most
lords would have said, 'Give me two chickens' there."
That hadn't occurred to Gerin. He said, 'Those birds
aren't remotely part of the dues Pinabel's village owes
on its land I have no right just to take them from him."
"Neither does any other Elabonian lord with his serfs,
if I understand your ways aright," Van said. 'The thing
of it is, most wouldn't let that stop em."
"You're probably right," Gerin said with a sigh. "But

52
Harry Turtledove
the way I see it, I owe my peasants fair dealing, just as
they do with me. If I don't give it, how can I expect to get
it in return?"
"Often enough you won't get it in return, no matter
what sort of dealing you give," Van said.
"You're right." The Fox sighed again. "But when I
don't, I'm not soft on that, either." Gerin was scrupu-
lously fair. Anyone who thought him weak on that
account soon regretted it.
"If I don't stop now, lord Gerin, we'll not have time
to make ready to meet the ghosts," Raffo said, point-
ing to the western skyline. The sun, red as hot copper,
had to be just on the point of setting.
Gerin thought about pushing on for another furlong
or two, but regretfully decided Raffo was right At his
nod, the driver reined in. Gerin jumped down and
gouged out a trench in the soft dirt by the side of the
road. That did the edge of his dagger no good, but it was
the only digging tool he had. Van handed him the trussed
fowls. He cut off their heads, one after the other—the
knife was still sharp enough for that—and let their blood
spill into the trench.
None too soon: he still held the second hen over the
hole when the ghosts came. They were, as ever, indis-
tinct; the eye would not, could not, grasp their shape.
They buzzed round the blood like carrion flies, soaking
up vitality from it. Because he'd given them the gift, they
were not fierce and angry and terrifying as they would
have been otherwise, but tried to give him good advice
in return.
Hecouldnotunderstandthem. He had never been able
to, save on the werenight, when his brother's shade man-
aged to deliver a message of truly oracular obscurity—
though he'd been able to use it later to destroy Balamung
just when the opposite result looked far more likely.

Prince of the North
53
Van bent over a firebow, twirling a stick with a raw-
hide lace to start a blaze for the evening. He shook his
head like a man bedeviled by gnats. "I wish they d quit
yowling in my mind," he grumbled, but then he grunted
in satisfaction. "Here we go, Raffo—feed me tinder, a
bit at a time. You know how."
"Aye." Raffo had been crumbling dry leaves. He poked
some into the hole where the stick from the firebow
spun. Van breathed gently on the sparks he'd started,
hoping to fan them rather than blowing them out "You
have it!" Raffo said, and gave him more tinder to feed
the new little flames. With the fire well and truly started,
he passed Van larger twigs to load on. Soon the thick
chunk of branch on which the outlander had used the
firebow would also catch.
"I wish it were that easy all the time," Van said. "Gut
those birds, Fox, and pluck em, so we can get ourselves
outside them. They're better fare than what we brought
with us."
"You're right there." The plucking job Gerin gave the
hens was quick and decidedly imperfect He didn't care;
he was hungry. He picked out the birds' hearts, livers,
and gizzards from the offal to roast them over the fire,
then threw the rest of the guts into the trench with the
blood.
He, Raffo, and Van drew stems of grass for the night
watches. Few bandits dared the ghosts to travel by night,
but Gerin was not the sort to take unnecessary chances—
the necessary ones were quite bad enough. And the
beasts of the forest, being without souls themselves, took
no notice of the night spirits. They usually did not attack
travelers encamped in the woods, but you never could
tel
Van drew the short stem, and chose the first watch.
Gerin and Raffo drew again. This time Raffo won, and

54
Harry Turtledove
picked the watch that led to dawn. "Since I get to have
my sleep broken up, I may as well take what I can get of
it," Gerin said, and wrapped himself in a blanket—as
much to keep off the bugs as for warmth, for the night
was mild
Van shook him awake with the cheerful insouciance
of a man who'd already done his share of a job. "Noth-
ing much doing, Captain," he said while Gerin tried to
break free of the fog that shrouded his wits. Van took off
the helm, corselet, and greaves he'd worn through his
watch, cocooned himself in his blanket, and was snoring
by the time the Fox began to think himself awake.
Gerin put on his own helmet and sword, but did not
bother with his cuirass. He paced back and forth, not
willing to sit down until he was sure he wouldn't doze
off. The fire had died into embers. He fed it twigs and
then branches and brought it back to briskly crackling
life. That drove away some of the ghosts flittering near,
and reduced their murmur in his mind
By the time he'd taken care of that, he felt more con-
fident he could stay awake. He walked to the edge of the
circle of firelight and sat down with his back to the flames.
His night vision, almost ruined when he'd stoked them,
slowly returned.
Hie moons had wheeled a good way through the sky.
Nothos was nearing the western skyline, Math well west
of south—when her golden gibbous disk sank below the
horizon, it would be time for the Fox to rouse Raffo.
Elleb, looking like a bright new bronze coin, neared the
meridian.
Here and there in the forest, birches mingled with
ash and oak and pine. By the light of the moons and the
nightfire, their pale trunks seemed almost to gleam
against the darker background
Gerin wished his ears could grow more sensitive to

Prince of the North
55
the dark the way his eyes did. Off in the distance, a barn
owl hooted. The Trokmoi thought the souls of dead war-
riors inhabited the pallid night birds. The Fox had his
doubts about that, but he'd never tried a sorcerous
experiment to find out one way or the other. He spent a
while trying to figure out how such an experiment might
be run, and what he could do if he found the Trokmoi
were wrong. Making the arrogant woodsrunners doubt
themselves in any way was likely to be worthwhile.
"You know," he said to himself in a low voice, "the
midwatch isn't so bad after all. I don't get enough time of
my own, with no one havering at me to do this or decide
that right this moment" In small—or sometimes not so
small—doses, he relished solitude.
Perhaps three parts of his four-hour watch had gone
by when a coughing roar not far away roused him from
contemplation, or rather jerked him out of it by the scruff
of the neck. No one could ignore a longtooth's hunting
cry; a man's blood knew it meant danger: One of the
horses let out a frightened snort The Fox found his left
hand on the hilt of his sword without conscious memory
of how it had got there—not that a sword would stop
one of the great hunting cats if it chose to hunt him.
The longtooth, to his vast relief, came no closer to the
campsite. "Well," he muttered, "I'm not sleepy now."
He felt as if he'd had ice water splashed over him. When
a nightjar swooped down to grab one of the moths flut-
tering around the fire, he almost jumped out of his skin.
He woke Raffo as soon as Math set. The driver looked
toward the west, saw the moon was down, and nodded
in approval. "No one ever said you weren't one for right
dealing, lord," he said blurrily around a yawn.
Gerin wrapped himself in his blanket once more. He
kept an eye on Raffo to make sure the younger man
wouldn't go backto sleep as he almosthad. Raffo,though,

56
Harry Turtledove
took watch-standing seriously, and paced about as the
Fox had Gerin feared he himself would have trouble
dozing off again but, in spite of his worries, quickly drifted
away.
The rising sun made him rise, too. His eyes came open
just as the ghosts vanished for the day. He got to his feet,
feeling elderly. Van was still snoring. Gerin roused him
cautiously; the outlander's first waking act—especially
when he was disturbed—was usually to grab for a
weapon.
This time, though, he seemed to remember where
he was, and came to himself without violence. He headed
for the forest, saying, "Either I go off behind a bush or I
burst where I stand."
"I watered the grass on watch, so I don't have that
worry," Gerin said, buckling on his right greave. Raffo
harnessed ihe horses.
The chicken bones and guts were already beginning
to stink. The travelers moved upwind before they gnawed
on bread and smoked meat. "Are we ready?' Raffo asked,
looking around the little camp to make sure nothing had
been forgotten. Gerin looked, too; if they had left some-
thing behind, he would have blamed himself.
They climbed into the chariot, Raffo driving, Gerin
behind him on the left, Van on the right Raffo flicked
the reins. The horses started forward When they came
to a stream, Raffo let the animals have a brief drink.
Gerin scooped up some water in the palm of his hand,
too, and freshened what he carried in the waterskin at
his belt.
At the next road that ran west, Raffo swung the chariot
onto it. A little village lay not far from the crossroads.
The appearance of their lord so early in the day was a
prodigy for the peasants. When he asked if they'd seen
Diviciacus and his comrades the day before, one of the

Prince of the North
57
men nodded "Aye, just before noon it were," he said A
couple of other people nodded.
The Fox scowled; he was on the right track, aye, but
no closer to the Trokmoi than when he'd set out. If they
were traveling hard, maybe they had a reason. "Did they
have a boy with them?' he asked, and then amplified
that "My son, I mean."
The serfs looked at one another. "Didn't see no boy,
lord," answered the fellow who'd spoken before.
That wasn't what Gerin wanted to hear. Had the
Trokmoi cut Duren's throat as if he were some sacrifice
to the night ghosts, then dumped the corpse by the side
of the road? Horrid dread filled him: his father, his
brother—now his son, too? If that was so, he vowed
he'd not rest till every red-mustached robber south of
the Niffet was dead or routed back to the northern woods.
Even as he made it, he knew the vow to be impossible of
fulfillment He spoke it in his mind, all the same; it would
give his life a target
"Take everything you can from the horses," he told
Raffo, his voice harsh. "Now we have to catch them before
they win back to Adiatunnus' lands."
"Aye, lord Gerin." But Raffo sounded doubtful. 'They
have a long lead, though. Gaining enough ground won't
be easy, the more so as we may have to keep casting
about for the road they took."
"I know that," Gerin growled "But I'll have answers
from them if I have to wring out each word with hot
pincers."
Van thumped him on the shoulder. "Easy, Captain,
easy. We don't even know they ever had the lad, mind
you."
"But they must have—" Gerin stopped, shook his
head. Assuming something was so because you thought
it had to be was one of the flaws in logic that made the

58	Harry Turtledove
savants in the City of Elabon laugh. He took a deep breath
and said, "You're right. We don't know they had him."
He wondered if he ever would, or could, know. Had
Diviciacus and his crew killed Duren and tossed his body
into the woods, scavengers would make short work of it
(he knew too well that his son had only a little meat on
his bones). When he'd charged out after the Trokmoi,
he'd figured he or Drago or Rihwin or Widin would catch
up with Duren's kidnappers, rescue the boy, and return in
triumph to Castle Fox. Now he realized he'd been mak-
ing assumptions there, too. Uncertainty, in a way, felt
even worse than being sure of Duren's death would have.
How long could he go on wondering without going mad?
Then he thought that, after a while, he wouldn't be
uncertain any more. He'd have to reckon Duren dead if
he wanted to keep on living himself.
'Tush them," he said to Raffo. This time, the driver
did not answer back. He flicked the whip over the horses'
backs. They leaned into the harness, pushed their pace
up to a fast trot.
The chariot rolled through another peasant village and
then drove by the small keep of Notker the Bald, one of
Germ's vassal barons. "Aye, lord Gerin," Notker called
from the palisade, "they came by here yesterday, some-
time past noon, but they showed shield of truce, just as
they had on the way to your castle, so I thought no more
about it."
"Did they have Duren with them?' Gerin asked. Two
sets of serfs had already answered no to that, but the
Fox put the question again anyhow. Maybe, he thought
with what he knew to be irrationality, a noble would have
noticed something the serfs had not
But Notker shook his head. 'Tour son, lord?' he said
"No, I saw him not. What then? Is it war between the
woodsrunners and us despite the truce sign?"

Prince of the North
59
"By the gods, I wish I knew." Gerin tapped Raffo on
the shoulder to drive on before Notker asked any more
questions he couldn't answer.
Toward the middle of the afternoon they passed the
boundary stone that had marked the border between
Gerin s holdings and those of his southwestern neigh-
bor, Capuel the Flying Frog. No one had seen Capuel
since the werenight; Gerin sometimes wondered if his
ekename had been a clue to a were strain in his family
and he'd turned toad when all the moons rose full
together. More likely, though, the Trokmoi had slain him.
The boundary stone lay on its side these days, ruining
the charms forpeace and prosperity that had been carved
into it. Whether that was cause or effect Gerin did not
know, but Capuel's former holding knew no peace these
days. None of his vassals had been able to take any land
of grip on the land. The Fox held some of it himself,
Trokmoi had overrun a couple of keeps, and the rest
was given over to banditry.
The first peasant village the chariot passed was only a
ruin, some of the houses burned, the rest falling to pieces
from lack of care. Some grain grew untended in weed-
choked fields, but before another generation passed no
sign would be left that man had ever lived here.
"Captain, we may need to stop to hunt toward sunset,
and I don't mean for the Trokmoi," Van said. 'Who's
going to sell us a chicken in country like this?"
Gerin didn't answer. He knew Van was right but didn't
want to admit it, even to himself. Stopping to slay an
animal with whose blood to propitiate the ghosts would
make him lose time on Diviciacus, not gain it
The next village was still inhabited, but that did the
travelers no good Only a handful of people remained in
what had been a fair-sized hamlet When one of them
spotted an approaching chariot, he let out a yell full of

60
Harry Turtledove
fear and desperation. Everyone—men, women, chil-
dren—fled from fields and houses into the nearby woods.
"Wait!" Gerin shouted "I just want to askyou a couple
of questions." No one paid him any attention.
He looked helplessly to Van. The outlander said, "You
ask me, Captain, these poor buggers have got themselves
trampled too often lately to take chances when some-
body who looks like a warrior comes by."
"No doubt you're right," the Fox answered, sighing.
"Doesn't say much for the state the northlands are in,
does it?'
'Tour serfs don't run from you, lord Gerin," Raffo
said.
"That's so," Gerin said, "but there's more to the
northlands than my holdings—and if I took in these lands,
I'd do it by war, so the peasants here wouldn't get the
chance to learn I treat them decently. They'd just go on
running when they saw me coming."
Raffo didn't answer. Unless he should be involved in
fighting to gain control of land beyond Gerin's holding,
it was too remote to matter to him. That made him typi-
cal, not otherwise, which saddened Gerin: he tried to
think in larger terms.
Van said, "You're not the only baron—excuse me, Cap-
tain: prince—the serfs don't flee. What Aragis does to
the ones who run that he catches makes all the others
think three times before they try it"
"He's a hard man," Gerin agreed. "Harder than need
be, I think. But it may be that hard times require a hard
man. Who can tell for certain?'
"Do you know what your trouble is, Captain?' Van
said.
"No, but I daresay you're going to tell me," the Fox
answered, raising that eyebrow of his. Every so often,
Van found a flaw in him, rarely the same one twice. The

Prince of the North
61
infuriating thing was that more often than not he had a
point
'Tour trouble, Captain, is that you're so busy trying to
understand the other fellow's point of view that you don't
give enough heed to your own."
Gerin clutched his chest and lurched in the chariot,
as if pierced by an arrow. Van's chuckle rumbled deep in
his chest. That was a hit, though, and the Fox knew it
He said, "Understanding the other fellow has its uses,
too. Sometimes he may even be right"
"And what does that have to do with the price of tin?"
Van said. "All you really need worry about is that he does
what you have in mind"
"Are you sure you're not really a Trokme after all?"
Gerin asked mildly. That earned him the glare he'd
expected.
The chariot rattled past a burned-out keep. Perched
atop one of the charred logs sat a fat bustard Van tapped
Raffo on the shoulder, pointed. The driver pulled back
on the reins; the horses stopped and began to graze. Van
reached for Gerin s bow. "I saw the bird—will you let
me do the hunting?" he asked.
"Go ahead," the Fox answered. Van might think slay-
ing men with the bow an effete way to fight, but he was
a fine archer nonetheless.
The outlander strung the bow. Gerin handed him an
arrow. He dropped down from the chariot and slid toward
the bustard, light on his feet as a stalking longtooth. The
bustard grubbed under its wing for mites. Van got to
within twenty paces before he stood still, nocked the shaft,
drew the bow, and let fly.
The arrow hit the bustard just below where it had
been scratching. It let out a startled squawk and tried to
fly, but tumbled off its log into the ditch that had not
served to protect the palisade. Van scrambled in after it

62
Harry Turtledove
When he came out again, he carried the bird by the feet
and wore an enormous grin.
"Well shot," Gerin said, pleased die hunt had been so
successful—and so brief. "Blood for the ghosts and sup-
per for us."
'The very thing I was thinking," Van said.
Before long, sunset forced the travelers to a halt Gerin
and Van got out of the chariot and, one with sword, the
other with spear, moved cautiously through the woods on
either side of the road until Gerin came upon a small clear-
ing screened offby trees. He hurried back to the dirt track,
whisded to let Van know he'd found what he was after.
"You've got a place to keep us away from prying eyes,
do you?" the outlander said, slipping out from between
a couple of oaks. Despite his bulk, he moved so quiedy
that Gerin had not heard him till he spoke.
"Indeed I do. In my own lands, I wasn't much wor-
ried about making a fire out where anyone could see it
Here, though, it might draw serfs on the run, bandits—
who knows what? Why take the chance?" The Fox turned
to Raffo. "Unharness the horses. We can lead them back
to the clearing, too; the way's not badly overgrown."
"Aye, lord Gerin." Raffo freed the animals from the
central shaft; he and the Fox led them away to tether
them in the clearing.
Van joined them a few minutes later. "I dragged the
chariot off the road and into the bushes," he said "It
won't be so easy to see now."
"Good" Gerin nodded. "And if one of the horses goes
lame, now we know we can hitch you to the shaft in its
stead. Maybe we'll let the horse ride in your place in the
car."
"I thankyou, Captain," Van said gravely. "Always good
to see how you look out for the welfare of them that
serve you, so it is."

Prince of the North
63
Suspecting he'd come off worse in that exchange,
Gerin dug a trench to hold the blood from the bustard
Van had killed earlier in the afternoon. When the bird
had bled out, he frowned. "I hope that will be enough,"
he said "We'd better build the fire bigger than we would
have otherwise, or we'll have dreadful dreams all through
the night."
After the sun went down, the ghosts did buzz grate-
fully around the offering the travelers had given them,
but they rose from it faster than the Fox would have
liked to see, as if they were men getting up from the
table still hungry. They also braved the light and heat of
the fire to gain more vital essence from the cut-up chunks
of bird Gerin, Van, and Raffo were roasting.
The Fox drew first watch. After he woke Raffo for the
middle stint, he fell asleep almost at once. His dreams
were dreadful: monsters rampaging over the northlands,
with men in desperate and what looked like losing
struggle to drive them back. At first, in one of those
almost-conscious moments dreams sometimes have, he
thought he was harking back to the werenight. But he
soon realized that was not so; these monsters seemed
more appalling than mere wild beasts armed with the
remnants of human wit that still clung to them.
When Van shook him awake at sunrise, he rose with
such alacrity that the outlander gave him a curious look
and said, "Youre not apt to be so cheerful of a morning."
"Bad dreams," Gerin muttered, sliding a foot into a
sandal.
"Aye, I had 'em, too." Van shook his head. "All man-
ner of horrid creatures running loose—the gods grant I
had a sour stomach or some such, to make me see such
phantoms in my sleep."
The Fox paused with the sandal strap still unfastened.
'That sounds like the same dream I had," he said slowly.

64
Harry Turtledove
"And I," Raffo agreed"Iwouldn't have minded spend-
ing more time on watch and less in my blanket, and how
often do you hear me say something like that?'
They hashed it out over breakfast, each recounting
what he remembered of his dreams. As best Gerin could
tell, they were all the same. "I don't like that," he said
'The omen is anything but good" His fingers shaped a
sign to turn aside ill luck. The sign worked well enough
for small misfortunes. Whatever misfortune lay ahead,
he feared it would not be small—with Duren missing, it
was already large. He offered the sign as a man without
food in his house will offer a neighbor a stoup of water:
not much, but the best he can do.
Van said, "If it is an omen, we won't be able to escape
it, whatever it may prove to mean. One way or another,
we'll get through." He seized his spear, made a sudden,
savage thrust, as if to dispose of any troublesome
foretellings.
The Fox wished he could match his friends confi-
dence. Van had never found anything, even the
werenight, he couldn't overcome with brawn and brav-
ery. Gerin trusted his own power less far. He said, "Let's
get on the road."
They passed another couple of mostly deserted vil-
lages that day, and a wrecked keep. And, about noon,
the Fox saw on a distant hill a building that wasn't quite
a keep but was far stronger and more elaborate than
anything a serfwould need. Raffo sawit, too, and scowled
blackly. "If that's not a bandits' nest, you can call me a
Shanda nomad"
"That's what it is, all right, and right out in the open,
too." Gerin spat into the dirt of the road to show what he
thought of it. "Everything's going to the five hells when
bandits set themselves up like barons."
"Who do you think the first barons were?" Van said

Prince of the North
65
"Bandits who got rich, most likely. Thats how it was a lot
of places, anyhow."
"Insulting my ancestors, are you?" Gerin said. "I'd be
angrier if I didn't know you were probably right. Even
so, one fine day we're going to come down here and
burn these bandits out before they get the chance to
turn into barons."
"We're getting close to the lands Adiatunnus holds,"
Raffo said "He's liable not to like that"
"Aye, he might have in mind to use these buggers,
whoever they are, as a buffer between him and me,"
Gerin agreed 'That he has it in mind, though, doesn't
mean it will happen so."
The sun had slid more than halfway down toward the
west when the chariot clattered up to a new border stone
standing by the side of the road The boulder was carved
not with Elabonian designs or letters, but rather with
the fylfots and spirals the Trokmoi favored In the road-
way itself stood a couple of red-mustached northerners,
one with a spear, the other with a sword The one with
the spear called in lilting Elabonian, "Who might you
be, coming to the lands of the great chief, Adiatunnus
his own self?'
"I might be anyone. I am Gerin the Fox," Gerin
answered. "Did Adiatunnus' liegeman Diviciacus pass
this way?"
"He did that." The border guard gave Gerin a look
more curious than hostile. "And I'm after thinking it's
fair strange, Fox, for you to be after him so. Have you
changed your mind, now, over the matter anent which
Diviciacus was sent forth for to talk with you?'
"I have not," Gerin answered at once, which made
both Trokmoi scowl. "But neither am I at feud with
Adiatunnus, nor with any of his. Does peace holdbetween
us, or not?" He reached for the bronze-headed axe in its

66
Harry Turtledove
rest on the side wall of the chariot Van hefted his own
spear, not in a hostile way but thoughtfully, as if to find
out how heavy it was.
It certainly made the Trokmoi thoughtful. The man
who had spoken before said, "Sure and you've no need
to be fighting us, now. For all Diviciacus ranted and car-
ried on about what a black-hearted spalpeen you were,
Fox—these are his words, mind, and none o' my own—
he said not a whisper of faring forth to fight"
"As I told him I had no quarrel with Adiatunnus,"
Gerin agreed. "But tell me this—when Diviciacus rode
through here, did he have with him in the chariot a boy
of four summers? Not to put too fine a point on it, did
he have my son? Before you answer, think on this: if you
lie, we shall be at feud, and to the death."
The two northerners looked at each other. This time,
the one who had the sword replied: "Fox, by Esus,
Taranis, and Teutates I swear he did not" That was the
strongest oath the Trokmoi used, and one they did not
swear lightly. The fellow went on, "If we aimed to go to
war with you, we'd up and do it Stealing a child, now?"
He spat "Bad cess to any man who's after trying such a
filthy thing."
"Aye," the other warrior said. "Did one of ours do
such to you, Fox, we'd hand him back nicely tied and all,
for you to do with him as you thought best You could
make him last days so, and wish every moment he'd never
been born. I've two lads and a girl of my own, and I'd
use the same way any ogre of a man who so much as
ruffled a hair on their heads without my leave."
His anger and sincerity were unmistakable. Maybe
Adiatunnus had set him and his friend here just because
they lied so well, but Gerin couldn't do anything about that,
not without an army at his back. He said, "I shall believe
you, but remember what I said if you've not spoken truth."

Prince of the North
67
"Och, but we have, so we've nought to fear," the fellow
with the sword said T hope you find the bairn safe, Fox."
His fhend nodded, adding, "Since you're apt to be
spending the night in the open, would you want to buy a
hen from us, now?"
"You probably stole it," Gerin said without rancor.
'That's what all you Trokmoi south of the Niffet are—
just a bunch of damned chicken thieves."
"Indeed and we're not," the northerner with a spear
answered indignandy. "We came south because you
Elabonians are after having so many things better and
better than chickens to steal."
Since that was nothing but the truth, Gerin could not
even argue with it. He tapped Raffo on the shoulder.
His driver slewed the chariot in the narrow roadway and
started east, back toward Castle Fox. "Sensible," Van
said 'This set of woodsrunners seemed fnendly enough,
but we'll want to put some distance between them and
us all the same. One of their higher-ups is liable to decide
we're worth hunting through the night"
"My thought exactly," Gerin agreed "Raffo, go by back
roads while the day lasts, so long as they lead north or
east If we stay on the main track, I think we're asking
for trouble."
"Aye, lord Gerin," Raffo said, and then, after a
moment, "I'm sorry we didn't find your son."
Gerin sighed "So am 1.1 have to pray that Rihwin or
Drago or Widin had better luck than we did." He tried
not to think about what might be happening to Duren.
Too many of the pictures his imagination came up with
were black ones.
"We were so sure the Trokmoi had run off with him,
too," Van said. Another man might have put that, You
were so sure— like any proper friend, the outlander
shared responsibility as well as credit

68
Harry Turtledove
'We'll know more when we get back to the castle,"
the Fox said, wondering how he'd keep from going mad
till then.
Rihwin the Fox spread his hands. "Lord Gerin, Schild
StoutstafFs border guards declined to give me leave to
pass into their overlords land. For whatever it may be
worth, they say Tassilo did enter that holding, but that
they saw no sign of any small boy with him."
"For whatever it may be worth," Gerin repeated. "If
he had Duren trussed up in the back of the wagon, it
may be worth nothing at all. Or, on the other hand—"
He gave up, shaking his head in frustration and dismay.
He'dhopedhe'dfindanswers atFoxKeep, not just more
questions, but questions seemed in better supply. Turn-
ing to Widin Simriri s son, he asked, "Any luck with you?"
Widin was a young man, but wore his beard long and
forked, an antique style. He shook his head "The same
as Rihwin, lord prince. Aragis' borderers say they'd not
seen Rihwin—nor Tassilo nor Otes, either—but would
not give me leave to enter their lord's land"
Drago the Bear said, "As for Otes son of Engelers,
lord Gerin, far as I can tell he's just vanished off the face
of the earth. No trace of him eastwards, that's certain."
"Well, what happened to him?" Gerin growled. But
he knew that could have a multitude of answers, too.
The jeweler might have run into bandits, he might have
been taken ill and laid up at some little peasant village
which Drago had gone right past, or he might have
decided not to fare east after all. No way to be certain,
especially now that Drago the Bear had decided to give
up the trail and return to Fox Keep. Gerin might have
wished for more diligence from him, but he'd done what
he was told, which was about what he was good for.
As if uneasily aware his overlord was dissatisfied with

Prince of the North
69
him, Drago tried to change the subject "Lord Gerin,
you shouldn't let Schild get by with the insolence he
shows you these days. He bent the knee and set his hands
in yours after you slew Wolfar, but you'd never know it
by the way he acts. He has his nerve, he does, keeping
your vassals off his land when he's properly a vassal his
own self."
"In law, you're right," Gerin said. 'Trouble is, we
haven't much law north of the High Kirs. So long as he
hasn't warred on me or attacked my lands when I was
busy elsewhere, I've always had more important things
to do than forcing him to heel."
"But when it's your son, lord prince?" Widin asked
softly.
Gerin sighed. "Aye, now it's my son—not that Tassilo
seems to have had him. I'll send Schild a courier with a
letter: his border guards won't hold back a courier under
my orders to take the message to their lord"
'They'd better not, anyhow," Drago said "'Twould
be against all polite usage." Down in the heart of the
Empire, Gerin thought, Drago would have made a per-
fect man of law: he lived in a world where precedent
bulked more real and larger than reality. That often
served him well—it saved him the trouble of thinking,
which was not his strength, anyhow. But when he had to
confront something new and unusual, he might as well
have been unarmed.
Rihwin the Fox said, "I hope the mere sending of a
letter will not offend Schild's, ah, delicate sensibilities."
"You mean, will he get angry because my courier can
read and he can't?" Gerin asked. Rihwin nodded Gerin
said, "It shouldn't be a problem. Schild may not have
much in the way of learning, but he doesn't hate people
who do—unlike some I could name." Some who are my
vassals, he thought

70
Harry Turtledove
"If you did want to make him worry about you, Cap-
tain, you could use one of those serfs youve taught their
letters," Van said
"Makes me worry too," Drago muttered, just loud
enough to let Gerin hear.
"No, I try not to let word of that leak out of the hold-
ing," Gerin said "The time's not ripe, not yet."
"Still don't know why you started that crazy business
anyhow, lord," Widin said
"Why? Because there's too much ignorance running
around loose in the northlands, that's why," Gerin said
Widin and Drago both stared at him in incomprehen-
sion. Van shook his massive head; he'd known what the
Fox was up to for years, and hadn't complained about it,
but that didn't mean he approved.
Even Rihwin, who was himself not only literate but
possessed of a formal education better than Germ's,
seemed dubious. "One of the things of which the serfs
remain cheerfully ignorant is their own miserable lot,"
he remarked "Let them learn to think, to reason, and
they will surely wonder at the justice of an order which
keeps them in their huts and the barons who rule them
in grand keeps like this one."
"They wonder at that anyhow," Gerin said. 'The
northlands have never been free from peasant revolts,
and that's only grown worse since the Trokmoi came
over the Niffet. But my serfs, among them the ones I've
taught, have stayed loyal where those of other lords rose."
"Belike that's so—for now," Van said "But often, too,
it works out that a man who's too hungry and worn to
rise up will go on working where even a pack mule would
drop dead. Give that same man a bit of hope, now, and a
full belly, and then try to crack the whip on him ... well,
you'd better have a good place to hide, is all I have to tell
you."

Prince of the North
71
Gerin clicked his tongue between his teeth. That had
some truth to it; his own reading of history said as much.
But he answered, "I have to take the chance. If I don't,
this whole land will slide back into barbarism in two gen-
erations' time, and the only way you'll be able to tell
Elabonians from Trokmoi will be by black mustachios
in place of red"
Tm not ignorant," Drago said indignandy. "Hearing
I am all the bloody time wears thin, lord Gerin. I know
how to war and raise horses and keep order in my own
holding. What else do I need?"
"Suppose there's a drought and you need magic done
to get some rain?" Gerin asked
"I hire a mage, of course."
'Where do you suppose the mage learned his art? If
he's any good, at the Sorcerers' Collegium down in the
City of Elabon. But northlands mages can't do that any
more—we're cut off, remember. If we want to have
another set of mages come along to replace the ones
who die, we'll just have to find some way to train them
ourselves. That means reading and writing, too, you
know."
Drago scowled "You don't argue fair, Fox."
'There I must disagree," Rihwin said "Lord Gerin's
arguments strike me as logical enough—and logic also
seems to me to be a civilized appurtenance worth pre-
serving. The question is whether the risks inherent in
seeking to make civilized men of serfs outweigh the ben-
efits to be gained from that course if successful."
Gerin abruptly sickened of the dispute. "A murrain
on it," he growled 'The only thing that truly matters
now is who has Duren and what they're doing to him. I
said the same thing before we all set out searching, but I
hopedwe'd know something whenwe came backto Fox
Keep. Instead, here we are sitting along this same cursed

72	Harry Turtledove
table five days later, and just as ignorant as the moment
we set out"
Rihwin gave him a sidelong glance. "Where chariots
rumbling down roadways and men beating bushes fail,
sorcery might serve. I speak purely in the abstract, you
understand, my own abilities along those lines having
been raped away by the angry god, but the possibility
deserves mention."
"It would deserve more mention if I were more of a
wizard" Gerin sighed "Oh, aye, you have the right of it,
and I'll try, but I've essayed such magics before, and
never yet found what I was looking for. And by the time
we can find a proper mage and bring him here, the trail
will have grown cold"
"Attempting a spell while convinced it will fail is the
surest way to guarantee such failure," Rihwin said
"I know that, too, but I find optimism hard to come
by when I see no good reason for it" The Fox wished he
could cast aside his gloom. As Rihwin had said, he would
have been a better wizard—though never a good one,
he thought—without it But it was as much a part of him
as the scar over his left: eye.
Just then, Fand came into the great hall. She pointed
to Rihwin and Widin and Drago. "I know they had no
luck," she said "Are you after finding your lost boy, and
him so small and all?"
"No," Gerin said, and the one word pressed the weight
of defeat and despair more heavily onto his shoulders.
"Och, the black shame of it, to be snatching children,"
Fand said She meant it, Gerin judged, but hers was a
nature that held the troubles of others in mind for only a
little while before returning to her own concerns: "And
fair lonely I was, too, with both my men off on a sleeve-
less errand Still and all,though,theymighthave brought
something back with them to make amends for being

Prince of the North
73
gone so long." She looked hopefully from Gerin to Van.
The outlander answered first: "Maybe I should bring
my hand across your greedy backside. Does that seem
fair, when you think on what we were about?"
When Van spoke in that rumbling tone of warning, as
if he were an earthquake about to happen, sensible men
walked soft But Fand was nothing if not spirited her-
self. She shouted, "Greedy, is it, to be asking a simple
question of you? Often enough there's a question you
ask of me, aye, and with the understanding my answer
had better be yes, too, or I'd be sorry for it. And you call
me greedy? A pox take you!"
"If a pox did take me, where would I likely get it?"
Van retorted.
"You've been staying with me too long," Gerin mur-
mured. 'That's the sort of crack I'm apt to make."
Fand didn't hear him. She let her wrath fall on Van:
"You? Who knows where you'd be likely to come by the
pox? You think I don't know you'll cover anything with a
slit, like a billy goat in the springtime? I've more to fear
from your wanderings than you from mine. Go on, now,
tell me I'm a liar."
Van turned the color of the embers smoldering on
the hearth. 'That's the way of a man," he sputtered.
Drago, Rihwin, and Widin nodded. So did Gerin, though
he was less inclined to make a tomcat of himself.
"Och, I know that" Fand tossed her head in fine dis-
dain. "But since it is, why blame me for what'd be the
fault of your own self?"
Gerin worked so hard to choke down laughter that
he had a coughing fit Van wasn't the only one who'd
spent a lot of time with him. No toga-wearing Sithonian
sophist could have done a neater, more logical job of
punching holes in the outlander s gibe than Fand just
had.

74
Harry Turtledove
Van looked his way. 'Will you not come to my aid?"
he asked plaintively, as if alone on the field and beset by
a host.
"I think our lady here was greedy, too, but as for the
rest, you got yourself into it, and you can get yourself
out." Gerin rose and headed for the stairs. "As for me,
I'm going to see what sort of search spells I can use to
try to find my son."
Bass and alto shouts, like angry kettledrum and horn,
followed him up to his library. He knew of no greater
hoard of books anywhere in the northlands, yet he also
knew how inadequate the collection was. There were
hundreds of grimoires, for instance, but he owned fewer
than ten. With them he had Lekapenos' epics, a few
codices of history, a couple on natural philosophy, a trea-
tise on horsemanship, another on war, a school set of
Sithonian plays (many of them crumbs from Lekapenos'
banquet)—and that was all. So much knowledge stored
away in volumes he would never see, let alone
own... thinking of his own ignorance saddened him.
He went through the grimoires one after another, look-
ing for a spell that would let him see either who had
taken Duren or where his son was now. He found a fair
number of them, but had to dismiss most out of hand.
Some were beyond his limited abilities as a mage. Some
required ingredients he could not hope to obtain: dried
sea-cow flipper from the Greater Inner Sea, for instance.
And too many needed wine. Even if it hadn't been
unavailable, he would have been afraid to use it The
last thing he wanted was to attract the angry notice of
Mavrix.
T wonder if ale would do?" he muttered, running a
finger down the closely written column of a cantrip that
looked promising except for prescribing a silver bowl full
of wine as the scrying medium.

Prince of the North
75
A sentence near the end of the spell leaped out at
him: Whereas the aspect ofBaivers god of barley is dull,
sodden, and soporific, whilst that of Mavrix lord of the
sweet grape (to whom the cry o/Evoii! rings out) sparkles
with wit and intelligence, the iU-advised operator who
seeks to substitute ale for wine will surely have cause to
regret his stupidity.
"It was only an idea," the Fox said, as if talking things
over with the author of the grimoire. That author was a
Sithonian; though the Fox's copy was an Elabonian trans-
lation, he'd already found several scornful references to
the westerners who had conquered and then been all
but conquered by the more anciently civilized land, and
equally short shrift given to other Elabonian gods.
Gerin plucked at his beard as he thought Substitut-
ing butter for olive oil had worked out well enough. No
matter what this snooty Sithonian said, using ale in place
of wine could also succeed And he was and always had
been on good terms with Baivers. He picked up the
grimoire, saying, "I'll try it."
He had a silver bowl; it had been at Fox Keep since
his grandfather's day. He'd been thinking about melting
it down along with the rest of the odd bits of silver in the
keep and starting his own coinage. Now he was glad
he'd never got round to doing that. And ale, of course,
was easy to come by.
He took the bowl and a pitcher of the strongest brew
in his cellar out to the shack where he essayed his mag-
ics. Before he began the conjuration, he took a while
studying the text of the spell, making sure he could slip
in Baivers' name and standard epithets for those of
Mavrix. He nodded to himself: that ought to work. He
didn't think he'd need to modify any of the mystical passes
that accompanied the charm.
"I bless thee, Baivers, god of clear sight, and call upon

76	Harry Turtledove
thee: lift the darkness of night," he intoned, and poured
the silver bowl half full of golden ale. He smiled a little
when he thought of that; mixing gold and silver, even
symbolically, ought to make the spell work better.
As often happened, the sound of his chanting drew
Rihwin, who stood in the doorway to see what he was
up to. Gerin nodded to him and set a finger to his lips to
enjoin silence. Rihwin nodded back; he knew a man
working magic did not need and sometimes could not
tolerate distraction.
Again, the wizard who had written the grimoire made
the operator perform the more difficult passes with his
left hand. Again, Gerin gratefully accepted that, because
it made the spell easier for him. Soon, he thought, the
ale would turn clear as crystal and he would be rewarded
with a glimpse of Duren's face, or at least of his sur-
roundings.
He caught himself yawning in the middle of the spell.
Whats wrong? he thought He couldn't say it aloud; he
was in the middle of the chant As if from very far away,
he watched his sorcerous passes grow languid, listened
to his voice turn fuzzy....
"Lord prince! Lord Gerin!"
With a great effort, the Fox opened his eyes. Anxious
faces crowding close blocked fight from the smoking
torches that lit the great hall. Gerins eyebrows came
down and together—last he remembered, he hadn't
been in the great hall, and torchlighting was hours away.
"What happened?' he croaked He discovered he was
lying in the rushes on the floor. When he tried to sit up,
he felt as if he'd forgotten how to use half his muscles.
Among the faces peering down at him was Rihwin's.
'Would that you could tell us, lord Gerin," the southerner
answered. "You fell asleep, or perhaps your spirit left
your body—however you would have it—in the middle

Prince of the North
77
of the spell you were using. We've tried from that time
to this to rouse you, but to no avail till now."
"Aye, that's the way of it," Drago agreed. <cWe didn't
know what in the five hells to do next—stick your foot in
the fire, maybe."
"I'm glad it didn't come to that," Gerin said. From
Rihwin, the suggestion might have been a joke. Drago,
though, had neither the wit nor the temperament for
jokes. When he said something, he meant it
That odd, unstrung feeling was fading. Gerin man-
aged to get to his feet. Van, ever practical, gave him a
jack of ale. "It's not enchanted, Captain, but it's pretty
good," he said
Gerin gulped down half the jack before he choked
and spluttered "That's it," he said 'That's what went
wrong. This time, the chap who wrote the grimoire was
smarter than I am. He warned that Baivers' influence
on the spell was soporific, and that's just what he meant."
'The Elabonian pantheon is so dismayingly stodgy,"
Rihwin said Like many of his educated countrymen, he
preferred the Sithonian gods to those native to Elabon.
But Van said, "Honh! Remember how much joy you
had of Mavrix." Rihwin flinched but was honest enough
with himself to nod, acknowledging the justice of the
hit
"Never mind any of that," Gerin said his wits were
beginning to work more clearly again, and his body to
seem as if it might be fully answerable to him after all.
"I've learned something from this escapade, which may
in the long run make it worthwhile."
"What's that?" Van asked, a beat ahead of the rest
'That whatever magic I can do isn't going to let me
find my son. And find him I will." Gerin counted stub-
bornness avirtue. If you kept hitting at a problem, sooner
or later it was likely to fall down. He went on, "Using ale

78
Harry Turtledove
for wine in the spell might have knocked me out, but, by
Dyaus, there are eyes that never sleep."
"Not by Dyaus," Drago said "By Biton, you mean, or
do I mistake you?"
"No, you have the right of it," Gerin said "I'll fare
forth to the Sibyl at Ikos. Her verse will tell me what I
need to know." He hesitated, then added, "If I can
understand it, of course."

in
After the Empire of Elabon conquered the land
between the High Kirs and the Niffet, the Elabonians
pushed an all-weather highway, the Elabon Way, north
from the town of Cassat to the river so they would always
be able to move troops against invaders or rebels.
No large numbers of imperial troops had been seen
in the northlands for generations before Elabon severed
itself from its province north of the Kirs, but the high-
way remained: far and away the best land link the
northlands boasted. Even barons who did litde else
maintained the stretch of the Elabon Way that ran
through their territory: if for no other reason, then to
make sure they collected tolls from travelers along the
road
"Hard on the horses' hooves," Van remarked as the
wagon rumbled onto the flag-paved roadbed.
"So it is," Gerin said. "Nothing to be done about it,
though, unless you want to throw away the road when-
ever it rains for more than two days straight Getting a
wagon through hub-deep mud isn't much fan."
"Can't argue with that," Van agreed "Still, we don't
want the animals lamed or stonebruised, either."
"No. Well, we won't push them hard, not when it's a
five days' run to Ikos," Gerin said. "As a matter of fact,
the horses aren't what worries me most"
"You always have something to worry about—you'd
be worried if you didn't," Van said. "What is it this time?"
"Ricolf the Red's would be a logical place to stop for
the third night," the Fox answered. "Or it would have
79

80
Harry Turtledove
been the logical place—" His voice trailed away.
"—if Ricolf weren't Elise s father. If Elise hadn't up
and left you," Van finished for him. "Aye, that does com-
plicate your life, doesn't it?"
"You might say so," Gerin agreed dryly. "Ricolfs not
my vassal. When Elise was with me, there seemed no
need, and afterwards I hadn't the crust to ask it of him.
Nor has he ever sought my protection; he's done well
enough on his own. When Elise was with me, I had a
claim on his keep once he died. Now that she's gone, I
suppose Duren is the rightful heir: she's Ricolfs only
legitimate child, and none of his bastard sons lived."
"Which means Duren is Ricolfs only grandson, too,"
Van said. "He'll need to know about the boy disappear-
ing. Or let me put it another way—he'd have cause to
quarrel with you if you rode by without saying so much
as a word."
Gerin sighed. "I hadn't thought about it quite like that,
but I fear you're right. I'm his guest-friend from years
gone by, but it'll be bloody awkward just the same.
He thinks Elise never would have run off if I'd
done... Dyaus, if I'd known what I should have done,
I'd have done it He won't think better of me for letting
Duren be kidnapped, either."
"Captain, you feel bad enough about that all by your-
self—you won't hardly notice anyone else piling on a
litde more."
"Only you would think of making me feel better by
reminding me how bad I feel now." The method was,
Gerin admitted to himself, nicely calculated to suit his
own gloomy nature.
Sitting beside him on the wagon's bench, Van stretched
and looked about with an almost childlike delight "Good
to be out on the road again," he said. "Fox Keep's all
very well, but I like having new things to see every minute

Prince of the North
81
or every bend in the road—not that the Elabon Way had
many bends in it, but you take my meaning."
"So I do." The Fox looked eastward. Quick-moving
liwaz, now a day past first quarter, had raced close to
Nothos, whose pale gibbous disk was just rising over the
tree-covered hills. He shook his head. Just as Tiwaz
gained on Nothos, so troubles seemed to gain on him
with every day that passed, and his own pace was too
slow to escape them.
'There's a pleasant thought," Van said when he spoke
his conceit aloud. 'Tell you what, Fox: instead of sleep-
ing in the open tonight, what say we rest at the next serf
village we come upon? They'll have ale there, and you'll
be better for drinking yourself drunk and starting off
tomorrow with a head that thumps like a drum. Then at
least you'll know what ails you."
"I know what ails me now," Gerin said: "Duren's miss-
ing. What I don't know is what to do about it, and that
eats at me as much as his being gone." Nevertheless, he
went on reflectively, "Headman at the next village south
is Tervagant Beekeeper. His ale doesn't have the worst
name in the lands I hold."
Van slapped him on the back, nearly hard enough to
tumble him out of the wagon. "The very thing. Trust
me, Captain, you'll be better for a good carouse."
"That's what Rihwin thought, and he ended up with
his robe round his ears and his pecker flapping in the
breeze."
Even so, the Fox reined in when they rolled up to
Termagant's village. The headman, a nervous little fellow
who kept kneading the front of his tunic with both hands
as if it were bread dough, greeted the arrival of his over-
lord with ill-concealed alarm. "W-what brings you so far
south, 1-lord prince?" he asked
"My son's been stolen," Gerin answered flatly

82	Harry Turtledove
Tervagants eyes widened The news, the Fox saw, had
not reached the village till this moment He set it forth
for the headman and the crowd of listeners-—mostly
women and children, for the men still labored in the
fields—who gathered round the wagon.
"Lord prince, I pray the gods give you back your boy,"
Tervagant said Everyone else echoed his words; noble
and peasant shared the anguish a missing child brought
The headman's hands fell away from his tunic. His face,
which had been pasty, gained color. Another one who's
glad I'm not looking into his affairs, Gerin thought He
wondered just how many village headmen had litde
schemes of their own in play. One of these days, he'd
have to try to find out
Not today, though. Tervagant ducked into his hut,
came out with a rams-horn trumpet He glanced at Gerin
for permission before he raised it to his lips. The Fox
nodded Tervagant blew a long, unmusical blast Some
of the peasants looked up from their work in surprise:
the sun was low in the west, but not yet brushing the
horizon. The men came in happily enough, though.
"Shall we kill a pig, lord prince?" the headman asked.
"Aye, if you can without hurting yourselves," Gerin
answered. The thought of fat-rich pork made spit rush
into his mouth. He added, 'The blood from the beast
will give the ghosts what they want, too."
"Some of the blood," Tervagant corrected thriftily.
'The rest we'll make into blood pudding." In good times,
serfs lived close to the edge. In bad times, they—and
the nobles they supported—fell over it. They could afford
to waste nothing.
The pig, like any other, was half wild, with a ridge of
hair down its back. Tervagant lured it to him with a tur-
nip, then cut its throat. He had to spring back to keep it
from tearing him with its tushes. Blood sprayed every

Prince of the North	83
which way as the beast ran through the village untilitfefl
over and lay kicking.
'That'll keep the ghosts happier than if the blood went
into a nice, neat trench," Van said
The fire the villagers made was big enough to hold a
fair number of ghosts away by itself. They butchered
the pig, baked some of it in clay, and roasted the rest
living up to his ekename, Tervagant went into his hut,
came out with a pot full of honey, and glazed some of
the cooking meat with it The delicious aroma made
Gerin hungrier than he had been before.
Along with bread, ale, and berries preserved in more
of Tervagant s honey, the pork proved as good as it
smelled A sizable pile of rib bones lay in front of Gerin
when he thumped his belly and pronounced himself full
Van had found a pointed rock and was cracking a leg
bone to get at the marrow.
"More ale, lord prince?" one of the peasant women
asked
"Thank you." He held out the cup they'd given him.
She smiled as she filled it for him. She was, he noticed,
not bad-looking, with light eyes that told of a Trokme or
two in the woodpile. She wore her hair long and
unbraided, which meant she was unmarried, yet she was
no giggling maid
When he asked her about that, her face clouded T
had a husband, lord prince, you're right, I did, but he
died of lockjaw year before last"
"I'm sorry," Gerin said, and meant it—he'd seen lock-
jaw. 'That's a hard way to go."
"Aye, lord prince, it is, but you have to go on," she
said
He nodded solemnly; he'd had quite a bit of ale by
then. "What's your name?" he asked her.
"Ethelinda, lord prince

84
Harry Turtledove
"Well, Ethelinda," he said, and let it hang there. Now
she nodded, as if he'd spoken a complete sentence.
After supper, Tervagant waved Gerin and Van into a
couple of huts whose inhabitants had hastily vacated
them. 'The gods grant you good night, lord prince, mas-
ter Van," he said
"Me, I intend to give the gods some help," Van said.
While he'd been sitting by the fire and eating, a couple
of young women had almost come to blows over him.
Now he led both of them into the hut Tervagant had
given him. Watching that, Gerin shook his head Too
bad no one could find a way to put into a jar whatever
the outlander had.
And yet the Fox was not altogether surprised to find
Ethelinda at his elbow when he went into the hut the
headman had set aside for him. "You've no new sweet-
heart?' he asked her. Some lords took peasant women
without thinking past their own pleasure. Along with hun-
ger, though, that was the sort of thing liable to touch off
an uprising. As usual, Gerin was careful.
But Ethelinda shook her head. "No, lord prince."
"Good" Gerin had to duck his head to get into the
hut. It was dark inside, and smelled strongly of smoke.
He shuffled in, found a straw-filled pallet with his foot
"Here we are."
The straw rustled as he sank down onto it, then again
when Ethelinda joined him there. She pulled her long
tunic off over her head; that was all she wore. Gerin
took a little longer getting out of his clothes, but not
much. By the way she clung to him, he guessed she'd
been telling the truth about having no sweetheart; he
didn't think anyone had touched her so for a long time.
That made him take care to give her as much plea-
sure as he could And, at the last moment, he pulled out
and spurted his seed onto her belly rather than deep

Prince of the North
85
inside her. He thought he would make her grateful, but
she said, "What did you go and do that for?" in anything
but a happy voice.
'To keep you from making a baby," he answered, won-
dering if she'd made the connection between what they'd
just done and what might happen most of a year later.
Every time he thought he had the measure of serfs'
ignorance, he ended up being startled anew.
Ethelinda knew that connection, though. "I wanted
to start a baby," she said. "I hoped I would."
"You did?" Gerin rolled off her and almost fell off the
narrow pallet. "Why?"
"If I was carrying your baby, I could go up to Fox
Keep and you'd take care of me," she answered. "I
wouldn't have to work hard, at least for a while."
"Oh." Gerin stared through the darkness at her. She
was honest, anyhow. And, he admitted to himself, she
was probably right. No woman had ever claimed he'd
put a bastard in her; he was moderate in his venery and,
to keep such things from happening, often withdrew at
the instant he spent But he would not have turned away
anyone with whom he'd slept
Maybe you shouldn't have pulled out, the darker side
of him murmured. With Duren gone, you're liable to
need an heir, even if he is a bastard.
He shook his head Sometimes he got trapped in his own
gloom and lost track of what needed doing. He couldn't
let that happen, not now. His son depended on him.
Ethelinda sat up and reached for her tunic. "Do you
want me to go away, lord prince?" she asked
'We'll be crowded on this bed, but stay if you care
to," Gerin answered. 'The night's not so warm that we'd
be sticking to each other wherever we touched"
"That's so," she agreed. "I always did like having some-
body in a bed with me. That's how I grew up, with all my

86
Harry Turtledove
brothers and sisters and my father and my mother while
she was alive, all packed tight together. Sleeping just by
yourself is lonely." She tossed the tunic to the dirt floor.
"And besides, who knows what might happen later on?"
What happened was that Gerin slept the night through
and didn't wake up till after sunrise, when Ethelinda
rose from the pallet and finally did put her tunic bade
on. When she saw his eyes open, she gave him a scorn-
ful glance, as if to say, Some stallion you turned out to be.
He bore up under that without getting upset; unlike
Van, he didn't wear some of his vanity in his trousers.
He looked around the peasant hut for a chamber pot.
When he didn't see one, he got up, dressed quickly, and
went off into the bushes by the village to relieve himself.
The reek that rose from those bushes said he was but
following the peasants' practice.
When he came back, Van was standing outside the
hut he'd been given, tweedling away on his flute. The
two women who'd gone in there with him both clung to
him adoringly. His grin was smug. The Fox felt like throw-
ing something at him, but contented himself with say-
ing, 'Time we got moving. We can eat as we travel."
"As you will." Van walked over to the horses, which
were tethered to the low branches of a maple. "You har-
ness the leader, then, and I'll see to the off beast You're
so hot to be on the road, the two of us together'll get us
on our way in a hurry."
That afternoon, the wagon rolled into the holding of
Palin the Eagle. Palin, who had Trokmoi on his western
flank, acknowledged Gerin as his suzerain and, because
he'd needed the Fox's help more than once against the
woodsrunners, was more sincere about his submission
than Schild Stoutstaff.
Not far into Palin's land, Gerin and Van came upon a

Prince of the North
87
belt of devastation: for several miles, the Elabon Way
and the land to either side of it had been cratered by
Balam ling's destructive sorcery. Now that weeds and
shrubs had had five years to spread over the craters,
they looked less raw and hideous than they had when
they were new, but the ground remained too broken for
farmers to work.
The Elabon Way itself was in fair repair. That was at
Gerin s order; he did not want the main road south from
Fox Keep to remain a ruin. The repairs, he knew, did
not come up to the standard the Elabonian Empire had
set when it pushed the highway north to the Niffet With
the resources of a realm behind them, the imperial arti-
sans had built to last, with a deep bed of gravel and stone,
stone flags cemented together, and good drainage to
either side of the roadway.
With peasant levies working in time snatched from
their fields, the Fox hadn't had a prayer of matching
such construction. Cobblestones and gravel did give the
rebuilt stretch of the Elabon Way a surface that, while it
was hard on hooves, did not turn into gluey mud when-
ever rain fell.
"Strange," Gerin said as the wagon jounced along over
the uneven surface: 'Whenever I travel this stretch of
road, I remember trying to fight my way north over it
just before the werenight"
"You're not likely to forget that," Van agreed "Me, I
find it strange to travel the same stretch of road more
than once. I'm too used to seeing something new every
day to be easy with the idea of going back and forth,
back and forth. Boring to see the same hills on the sky-
line every day. I want to find out what's on the other side
of them."
'Those hills?" Gerin pointed west "They shelter
Trokmoi and bandits."

88	Harry Turtledove
"Not what I meant," Van said "Captain, youve no
poetry in you, and that's a fact."
"I suppose not. I do the best I can without it, that's all."
Toward evening, they passed the keep of Raff the
Ready, where they'd guested on their last trip south to
Ikos. No guesting at Raffs tonight; the keep had fallen
to the Trokmoi, and nothing but tumbled ruins remained
Gerin shook his head, remembering the fine meal Raff
had fed him. Tonight it would be hard bread and sau-
sage and sour beer and whatever they managed to hunt
up to keep the ghosts happy.
A redfox scurried across the road in front of the wagon.
It paused by a clump of hounds-tongue, sitting up on its
haunches with its own tongue lolling out as it watched
the horses and men. Van tapped Gerin on the shoulder.
"Rein in. Let me grab the bow and we'll have our
evening's offering."
"What? Where?" Gerin said
Van pointed to the fox. "Right there. Are you blind,
not to see it?"
Gerin stared, first at the fox, then at his fiiend "You're
enough like a brother to me that I often forget you're
not Elabonian born. It's not our custom to kill the ani-
mals that give us our ekenames. All my luck, such as it is,
would run away if I tried to slay a fox."
"You wouldn't," Van said "I would"
"I'd be abetting you." Gerin shook his head "In the
spirit world, it would count for the other."
"The spirit world will do more than count if we don't
find something with blood in it pretty soon," Van
grumbled. "Looks like all the peasants hereabout have
fled, and a night in the open with only a fire to hold the
ghosts at bay is nothing to look forward to."
"Something will turn up." Gerin sounded more confi-
dent than he felt But hardly more than a minute after

Prince of the North
89
he'd spoken, he spotted a big, fat gray squirrel sitting on
die topmost branch of an oak sapling that really should
have been cleared away from the side of the road Now
he did rein in. Van had seen the squirrel, too; he was
already reaching into the back of the wagon for the bow.
The bowstring thrummed as he let fly. The squirrel
toppled out of the little tree and lay feebly kicking on the
mossy ground below. It had stopped moving by the time
Van walked over and picked it up. He hefted it in his
hand. "It should serve," he said
"Not a whole lot of meat, but what there is will be
tasty baked in clay," Gerin said "If you'd shot at the fox,
the gods might not have put the squirrel in our path."
"If they're so grateful for me being good, why didn't
they put a nice fat buck in that tree instead of a rat with
a fuzzy tail that won't give us two good bites apiece?'
"Abandoned scoffer," Gerin said, though he had to
fight to get words past the laughter that welled up when
he pictured an andered stag perched atop a sapling.
"Show some respect for the gods of Elabon."
"I give them as much as they deserve and not a bit
more," Van said. "I've done enough traveling, seen
enough gods to know they're stronger than I am, but I'll
be switched if I can see that some of 'em are a whole lot
smarter than I am."
Gerin grunted, remembering Mavrix's long, pink
tongue flicking out like a frog as the deity had mocked
him and taken away Rihwin s sorcerous ability. "You may
have something there, though you'll not be happier for
it if some god hears what you've said"
"Ifsobe that happens, I'll just go on to someplace else
where the writ of Elabonian gods doesn't run," Van said
'The thing about gods is, they're tied to the lands of those
that worship them, and me" —he thumped his chest—
"I'm not"

90
Harry Turtledove
"Just like you to be so sure youd get away" Gerin
said, but then something else occurred to him. "Gods
can travel, though, as their worshipers do—look at the
way the Sithonian deities have taken hold in Elabon.
And, I fear, we'll have Trokme gods rooting themselves
here in the northlands now that the woodsrunners have
made homes south of the Niffet."
"You're likely right; I hadn't thought of that," Van said
"Not a crew Yd be happy with as neighbors: their yen
for blood is as bad as the one the Trokmoi have them-
selves. I should know; the woodsrunners were all set to
offer me up till I got free of them."
"Yes, you've told that tale," Gerin said. He shook his
head "One more thing to worry about" Trouble was,
he seemed to add to that list almost every day. He halted
the wagon. As long as he and Van had an offering for the
ghosts for tonight, he wouldn't worry about any of the
things on that list till tomorrow.
Splitting the night into two watches rather than three
left the Fox and Van yawning as they started traveling a
little past sunrise. "I'm slower than I should be, and that's
not good," Gerin said "When we cross Bevon Broken-
Nose's holding, we'll need all our wits about us."
"Bevon Broken-Land would be a better name for him,
that's certain," Van said.
"Can't argue with you there," Gerin replied Bevon s
sons had been squabbling over their father's holding five
years before. Bevon himself was still alive, but univer-
sally ignored beyond a bowshot from his keep.
Gerin pointed ahead. 'There we are. That's progress,
if you like."
'Tour fort, you mean? Aye, I expect so. It's about the
only thing that keeps the Elabon Way open through
Bevon's lands, anyhow."

Prince of the North
91
Despite a wooden palisade, the building wasn't a keep
in the proper sense of the word: no stone castle sat inside
the wall, only a blockhouse also of wood Gerin had run
up the fort and put a garrison in it less than a year after
the werenight, to make sure the road stayed clear. Bevon
and all four of his sons had protested furiously, but
couldn't unite even to get rid of the Fox's men.
"One day soon, Captain, you'll just quietly claim the
land along the road as part of your own holding, won't
you?" Van said 'Without your patrols, it'd be the howl-
ing wilderness it was before you put your men here—
and it's like you to let the facts talk before you open your
mouth yourself."
'That has been in my mind lately, as a matter of fact."
Gerin gave his friend a look half respectful, half annoyed.
"I like it better when no one else can pick out what's in
my mind."
"Live in a keep for a while with a man and he will rub
off on you." Van added, "However much he doesn't care
to," in the hope—which was realized—of making Gerin
scowl.
A three-chariot patrol team came north up the Elabon
Way toward the fort. Seeing the wagon, they made for it
instead, to see who was on the road Gerin waved to one
of the men in the lead car. "Hail!" he called loudly. "How
fares the road, Onsumer?"
"Lord Gerin!" the bulky, black-bearded man called
back. "I thought that was your wagon, though I'm just
now close enough to be sure. We had a quiet run down
to Ricolfs border and back, so the road is well enough."
His face clouded. "But what of you? Is this the business
Widin Simrin's son spoke of?"
"My son being stolen, you mean? Yes," Gerin said
"All my searches went awry, those after the men who
might have taken him and the one round Fox Keep as

92
Harry Turtledove
well. I'm off to Ikos, to learn if the Sibyl can see farther
than I did."
"Dyaus and Biton grant it be so," Onsumer said. The
driver and warrior who shared the car with him nodded
vigorously.
"I can but hope," Gerin said. "Widin told me he
learned nothing new on his run down here. Have you
had word of anything unusual from Bevon's sons? One
of them, I suppose, could have arranged to kidnap
Duren, though I'd not have thought any of them had
the wit to plan such a thing."
Onsumer shook his head. "No, lord Gerin, nothing of
the sort. I think the lot of them are too busy trying to
slaughter one another to worry about outsiders, even
ones they hate. We haven t had an attack on the fort in
close to a year, but the strife among the brothers never
ends."
'Tou're probably right," Gerin said. "All the barons in
the northlands squabbled among themselves and didn't
pay heed to the Trokmoi till it was too late. I wonder if
we Elabonians learned the joys of faction fighting from
Sithonia."
"I wouldn't have the faintest idea about that,"
Onsumer said. He was a good enough soldier, and far
from stupid, but all he knew of the wider world he'd
heard in minstrels' songs.
He got the horses moving again. "Good luck to you,"
Onsumer called as the wagon rolled by. His comrades
waved to Gerin. Then they turned around and headed
back toward the fort
An hour or so later, Van pointed to a column of black
smoke rising in the distance. "Somebody's burning his
neighbor out there, or I miss my guess."
"Better they battle each other than my men," Gerin
said, "but better still if they didn't battle at all."

Prince of the North
93
"Honh! What are the odds of that?"
"On the face of it, not good," Gerin admitted "Still, it
used to happen. Elabon, not so long ago, was a single
empire stretching from the Niffet east past the Lesser
Inner Sea into the seething river plains of Kizzuwatna.
Now its falling apart. When the Emperor and his court
think more of putting gold in their own belt pouches
now than worrying about where the Empire will be a
generation hence, that happens."
"Its not just the ones at the top," Van said. "Its every-
one whos strong, out to get rich off the ones who aren't
and to put a fist in his strong neighbor's eye."
"Aye, that's the way of it," Gerin said "In the early
days, they say, Elabonian warlords would go back to the
plow once they'd won a war." He grinned wryly. "Of
course, who knows what tales of those early days are
worth?'
Near the southern edge of Bevon s unhappy holding
lay another belt of devastation from Balamung's sorcery.
As before, the wagon bounced roughly over the equally
rough repairs Gerin had had the local peasants make.
Van said, "Remember how Bevon's sons tried to stop
you from fixing the road, each of them screaming he'd
do it himself?"
"Oh, yes." The Fox's laugh was less than mirthful "And
if I'd waited for that, I'd be waiting still, and so would
Duren's grandson."
When Gerin had come into Ricolf the Red's holding
five years before, only a couple of guards kept watch at
the border. Now a fort like the one he'd built on Bevon's
land stood strong to keep out bandits—and perhaps to
keep out his own men as well. The thought saddened
him.
A guardsman strode out from the open gateway of
the fort to ask his business. The fellow started slightly

94	Harry Turtledove
when he recognized Gerin and Van. Gerin started slightly,
too; he had no idea what this warriors name was, but
he'd been at the border on that other journey, too. The
Fox remembered those first days when he'd known Elise
and snuck her out of her father's keep as vividly as if they
were just past Now that only ashes lay between him
and her, he often wished he could forget Somehow that
only made him remember more intensely.
"Lord prince," Ricolfs man said, his voice polite but
wary. "What brings you to the holding of Ricolf the Red?
Is it the matter your vassal—what was his name?—spoke
of some days past?"
"Widin Simrins son," Gerin supplied. "Yes, it has to
do with my son—Ricolfs grandson. We've had no luck
finding him—I'm for the Sibyl at Ikos, to see if Biton
will grant her sight of where the boy might be."
"May it prove so," the guard said "Since it's but you
and your comrade here, and no host in arms behind
you, pass on, lord prince."
"No host in arms behind me?" Gerin said angrily.
"Does Ricolf look for one? I've no quarrel with him, but
I may, by Dyaus, if he keeps thinking that way."
"You had no quarrel with Bevon, either, yet your men
stay on his land against his will. We don't want that hap-
pening here."
"Ricolf ought to get down on his knees and thank me
for that," Gerin ground out "If my men didn't keep order
along the Elabon Way, you'd have more trouble spilling
into this holding than you dream of. But Ricolf keeps his
own house quiet, and needs no help from me."
"Just pass on," the guard said.
Gerin flicked the reins so violently, the horses sprang
forward with startled snorts. Van said, "Agood thing we're
away. I thought you were going to jump down and mur-
der that fellow."

Prince of the North
95
'Tor a counterfeit copper, I would have." Gerin rubbed
at the scar over his eye. He was sure it was white now; it
always went dead pale when he got furious. 'Worst of it
is, the fool's only echoing what Ricolf says."
'Would you sooner we didn't stop of Ricolf s holding,
then?" Van asked.
"Now that you mention it, yes." But the Fox sighed
"Has to be done, though— as you say, Duren's his grand-
son, after all. I expect I'll get through it I wouldn't show
my face in his holding if I thought he seriously meant
me harm—not without that host in arms behind me,
anyhow."
"The gods grant it doesn't come to that"
"Yes." Gerin wasn't thinking of the gods alone. If he
ever did have to take on Ricolf, his former father-in-law
was only too likely to call on Aragis the Archer for aid
Having Aragis extend his power northward was the last
thing Gerin wanted. For that reason as well as for Duren's
sake, he'd speak softly to the older baron. So he told
himself, anyhow.
The sun tinged the western sky with colors like the
belly of a salmon. Gerin imagined he felt the ghosts stir,
though they would not truly emerge until after sunset
And from the castle ahead came a boy's cry from the
watchtower: "Who comes to the holding of Ricolf the
Red?"
All was so much as it had been five years before that
the hair on Gerin's arms tried to prickle up. He felt him-
self caught in time, like an insect in the sticky sap of a
pine tree. Insects so stuck rarely got loose. The Fox knew
the trouble here lay in his own mind, but knowing did
little to help him get free, either.
He shouted back toward the keep, giving his own name
and Van's—just as he had then. But then Ricolf had been

96
Harry Turtledove
eager to let him in; they'd become friends on Gerin's
earlier journeys south. Now? Who could say what Ricolf
thought now?
Whatever it was, the drawbridge lowered, thick bronze
chains rattling and squealing over the spokes of the winch
as the gate crew turned it The horses' hooves drummed
like thunder when they walked across the timbers over
the moat. Water plants added touches of green there,
but the smell said that Ricolf s men used the barrier to
empty their slop jars.
Ricolf the Red stood in the bailey near the gate, wait-
ing to greet Gerin. He was a broad-shouldered, thick-
bellied man heading toward sixty, his manner still vigor-
ous and his hair still thick, though now mostly white rather
than the Trokme-like shade that had given him his
sobriquet. When he opened his mouth to speak, Gerin
saw he'd lost a front tooth since the last time they'd met
"Guest-friendship is a sacred trust," Ricolf said, his
deep voice younger than his years. 'With that trust in
mind, I greet you, Fox, and you also, Van of the Strong
Arm. Use my keep as your own while you stay here."
"You are gracious as always," Gerin said Ricolf hadn't
sounded particularly gracious; he sounded more like a
man doing a duty he didn't much care for. Gerin thought
more of him for that, not less. Sometimes his own sense
of duty was all that kept him going.
"Pah! This for graciousness." Ricolf kicked at the dirt
"I hear somethings amiss with my grandson, and I want
to know everything there is to know about it First Elise,
now Duren—" He shook his big, hard-featured head "I
wasn't the luckiest man born, to link my family to you."
'That's not what you thought when you gave me your
daughter," Gerin answered as steadily as he could; as
always, anger andlonging surged in him when Elise came
to the front of his mind. He went on, "The gods know I

Prince of the North
97
am not a perfect man. Will you entertain the notion that
Elise may not have been a perfect woman?"
'The notion does not entertain me." Ricolf kicked at
the dirt again. "Well, we'll speak of that later. What's your
pleasure for supper? We killed a sheep this afternoon,
so there's mutton, or we can chop a couple of hens down
to size if the two of you would rather."
"Mutton," Gerin and Van said in the same breath.
The Fox added, "We've been traveling a good deal these
past few days, and mostly supping on the fowls we've
killed as blood-offerings for the ghosts."
"Thought as much," Ricolf answered, "but I figured I
owed you the choice." He was indeed meticulous in
observing the rituals of guest-fhendship.
Inside Ricolfs great hall, fat-wrapped bones smoked
on Dyaus' altar. At the cookfire, servants roasted ribs
and chops. A big bronze pot boiled busily above it. Van
stabbed a finger toward it. 'That'll be the tongue and
tripe, the lungs and lights?" he asked
"Aye," Ricolf said "Which of the dainties do you care
for most?"
'The tongue," the outlander answered at once. "Have
you got any rock salt to scatter on itP'
"I do that," Ricolf answered, a Trokme turn of phrase
he probably would not have used before he got
woodsrunners for neighbors. "The holding has several
good licks, one of them near big enough to mine salt
from."
Had Ricolfs holding been Gerins, he suspected he
would have mined salt and sold it to his neighbors. The
only concern Ricolf had beyond his own borders was
foes who might come at him. Past that, he was content
with his land as he found it Gerin wondered if he him-
self would ever be content with anything.
Bread and ale and meat distracted him from such

98
Harry Turtledove
worries. He gnawed roasted mutton from ribs, then
tossed them to the dogs. Tripe was slippery and gluey
under his knife, chewy in his mouth. The kidneys' strong
smell cut through the smoke that filled the hall and fore-
told their flavor.
He stuffed himself full, but Van outdid him. Ricolf
watched the outlander with awe tinged by alarm. He
said, "Dyaus, I'd forgotten howyou put it away. You could
eat a man out of his barony."
'There's a deal of me to keep fed," Van replied with
dignity. "Would you pass me the pitcher of ale? Ah, thank
you, you're very kind" He poured from the pitcher into
a delicately carved rhyton, part of the great stock of
southron goods Ricolf had laid on to impress the band
of suitors for Elise s hand Elise was gone. The drinking
horns, the even more elaborately carved bathtub, and
other such things remained, and probably lacerated
Ricolfs spirit whenever he saw or used them.
Van poured the horn of ale down his throat, hardly
seeming to swallow. He filled it again, drained it with
the same ease. By the look Ricolf gave him, the older
man expected him to slide under the table at any moment
Instead, he got up and spoke softly to one of the young
women who'd fetched food. Gerin listened to her giggle
and was not surprised when, a little later, she and the
outlander went upstairs together.
The Fox wishedhe could have gone upstairs, too, even
alone, but Ricolfs eyes held him. The white-haired baron
said, 'Tour harvests must have been good in spite of
everything, or you'd not be able to afford to keep him
around"
"I don't begrudge him his appetites," Gerin answered.
"Not any of them. The rest of his spirit is in proportion."
"As may be, as may be." But Van was not what Ricolf
wanted to talk about, and Gerin knew it Ricolf stared

Prince of the North
99
down at his own drinking horn for a while before he
went on, "Well, Fox, what in the five hells happened?"
<4With Duren, you mean? Youve heard everything I
know about that," Gerin answered. "Someone snatched
the boy, and when I find out who he was, he'll be sorry
for the day his father woke up with a stiff one in his
breeches."
"Oh, no doubt." Ricolf drank, smacked his lips,
brought his fist down onto the table. "You'll track die
whoreson down and make him pay. You're bloody good
at all that sort of thing. Prince of the North these days,
are you? I'll not deny you've earned the title. You hold
more land—or control it, which amounts to the same
think—than anyone else in the northlands save maybe
Aragis and one or two of the cursed Trokmoi, and you
run it better, too."
"You're generous." The Fox also took a pull at his ale.
He could feel it buzzing inside his head. Maybe that was
what made him burst out, "I wish I were shut of the
whole business, and just left to be what I'd like."
"So do we all," Ricolf said "But you do it well, like it
or no. Which brings me to what I'd truly learn: how was
it you didn't do as well by Elise?"
Gerin wished he were drunk enough to fall asleep—
or a good enough mime to pretend he was that drunk.
But he wasn't, not either one—and he knew he owed
Ricolf an answer. He drank some more, as much to give
himself time to think as for any other reason. Ricolf
waited, patient and stubbornly unmoving as a boulder.
"I suppose part of it was that her life at Fox Keep
wasn't as different as she'd hoped from what she had
here," Gerin said slowly. He snorted air out through his
nose. Wherever Elise was now, she'd surely found a dif-
ferent life. Whether it was better was a different ques-
tion altogether.

100
Harry Turtledove
"Go on," Ricolf said
"You know what the first flush of passion is like," Gerin
said. "It masks everything bad or even boring about
whomever it lights on. After a while, though, you can
wake up and realize this isn't what you had in mind I—
suppose that's what Elise did."
"None of it your fault, eh?" Ricolfs rumbling bari-
tone flung sarcasm as a catapult flung stones.
"I didn't say that," Gerin answered "Looking back, I
guess I took a lot for granted I figured everything was
all right because she didn't complain out loud—and I've
always been one who doesn't necessarily expect things
to be perfect all the time, so I didn't worry so much
when they weren't. I think perhaps Elise did after we
fell in love, and when things got rocky, they looked worse
to her than maybe they really were. If I'd realized that
sooner... oh, who knows what I'd have done?"
Ricolf chewed on that with the air of a man finding
something on his plate other than what he'd expected
Now he drank and thought a while before he spoke: "I
respect that knack you have, Fox, for looking at yourself
and talking about yourself as if you were someone else.
Not many can do it"
"For this I thank you," Gerin said
"Don't" Ricolf held up a big-knuckled hand "The
trouble with you is, you don't know how to do anything
but stand back from yourself, and from everybody around
you. You talked about how my daughter might have felt
after passion cooled, but what about you? Did you go
back into that keep inside your head, the one you mostly
live in?"
"You shame me," Gerin said quietly
"Why? For asking a question?"
"No, because the answer is so likely to be yes, and
you know it very well." If sarcasm had stung, truth cut

Prince of the North
101
like a knife, the more so for being unexpected.
Ricolf yawned Tm getting old to sit around drinking
half the night," he said "Come to that, I'm getting old
for anything else, too. Only a handful of serfs on this
holding who were born before I was. One winter not so
far from now lung sickness will get me, or I'll fall over
with an apoplexy That wouldn't be too bad—quick, any-
how."
"You're strong yet," Gerin said, alarmed for his host
Few men spoke so openly of death, lest a god be listen-
ing. "If you do go out, you'll go fighting."
'That could happen, too," Ricolf said. "I'm not as fast
nor as strong as I was, and there's plenty of fighting
around. And what becomes of the holding then? I'd
hoped to last long enough to pass it on to Duren, but
now—"
"Aye, but now," Gerin echoed If Ricolf died heirless,
his vassal barons would brawl over the holding, just as
Bevon's sons had been doing for so long further north.
And Ricolfs neighbors would be drawn in, Aragis com-
ing up from the south, the Trokmoi from the west per-
haps biting off a chunk... and the Fox did not see how
he could stand aloof. He even had a claim of sorts to the
barony.
As if picking that from his head, Ricolf said, "Aye, a
couple of my vassals might think well of you because
you were wed to Elise. More of 'em, though, are likely
to think less of you because she ran off. And if she ever
came back here wed to a man with a fighting tail of his
own—"
Gerin upended his drinking horn, poured the last
draft down his throat. That thought, or rather night-
mare, had crossed is mind, too, most often of nights
when he was having trouble sleeping. He said, "I have
no notion how likely that is, nor what I'd do if it happened

102
Harry Turtledove
A lot would depend on who and what the fellow was."
"On whether you thought you could use him, you
mean." Ricolf spoke without rancor. He drained his own
rhyton, then pushed to his feet Tm going up to bed.
Do you want to come along, so I can showyou the cham-
ber Ive set aside for you? The keep's not packed with
suitors now; I don't have to give you one of the little
rooms down here off the kitchens."
"I'll come," Gerin said, and rose, too. Ricolf carried a
lamp as they went up the stairs. He didn't say anything.
The Fox counted that something of a minor triumph.
He'd been dreading this interview since the day Elise
left him, and he seemed to have got through it
Ricolf opened a door. As Gerin walked through it into
the little bedchamber the lamplight revealed, the older
man asked quietly, "Do you miss her?"
Another knife in the night. Gerin said, "Yes, now and
then. Quite a lot, sometimes." He stepped into the room
and shut the door before Ricolf could stab him with any
more questions.
South of Ricolfs holding, the land grew debatable once
more. Gerin and Van traveled in armor, the Fox keeping
his bow ready to hand The Elabon Way seemed all but
deserted. That suited Gerin fine: the fewer people he
saw, the fewer people who saw him. He knew too well
how vulnerable the wagon was to a good-sized band of
raiders.
The roads that ran into the Elabon Way from east
and west were dirt tracks like the ones up in the Fox's
holding. Pieces of the Elabon Way were just dirt here,
too; peasants had prised up the paving stones for the
houses, and maybe barons for their keeps, too. That
hadn't been so the last time Gerin visited Ikos, five years
before.

Prince of the North
103
He said, 'Taking stones from the roadway used to be
a crime that would cost a man his head or put him up on
a cross. A good law, if you ask me; roads are a lands
lifeblood."
"No law left up here but what comes from the edge
of a sword," Van said. "Most lands are like that, when
you get down to it"
"South of the High Kirs, Elabon isn't, or wasn't," Gerin
said "Law counted for more than might there, for a lot
of years. It was even true here for a while. No more,
though. You're not wrong about that"
They rolled slowly past another connecting road. At
the crossroads stood a granite boulder carved with pic-
tures showing where the road led a crude keep sur-
rounded by farms and horses. 'That's not the one we
want, eh, Captain?" Van said
"No. We're looking for an eye with wings—that's
Biton's mark. We're not far enough south to come to it
yet, I don't think. I hope it will still be there; some of the
crossroads stones I thought I remembered from my last
trip to the Sibyl aren't here any more."
"You were paying attention to stones?' Van shook his
head in disbelief. "Far as I could see, you were so busy
panting over Elise, you didn't have eyes for anything else."
'Thank you, my friend I needed that just now, I truly
did," Gerin said The visit with Ricolf had left him glum
enough. If Van was going to rub salt in thewounds, they'd
sting even worse.
But Van, perhaps mercifully, kept quiet after that Like
Gerin's, his eyes went back and forth, back and forth.
Every time the wagon went by a clump of bushes or
some elm saplings growing closer to the road than they
should have, he shifted the reins to his left hand so he
could grab his spear in a hurry if he needed it
The Fox soon became certain some crossroads stones

104	Harry Turtledove
were missing: he and Van rolled past a hollow in the
ground that showed where one had recently been
removed—so recently the grass hadn't filled in all the
bare dirt. "Someone's losing trade on account of that,"
he said sadly. "I wonder if he even knows."
About halfway between noon and sunset, Gerin spied
the winged eye he sought. "I'd have guessed it'd be
there," Van said. "You steal it, you're fooling with a god,
and what man with a dram of sense does that?"
"How many men have sense?' Gerin returned, which
made his comrade grunt. He added, "Not only that, how
many are wise enough to realize they're stealing from
Biton and not just from some petty lordlet?'
"They don't know beforehand, they'll find out pretty
soon," Van said, which was likely enough to be true that
Gerin had to nod. The farseeing god looked after what
was his.
The wagon swung east down the road that led to the
Sibyl and her fane. Gerin remembered the lands away
from the Elabon Way as poorer than the baronies along
the main north-south route. They didn't seem so now.
That wasn't because they'd grown richer. Rather, the
holdings along the chief highway had suffered more from
the Trokmoi and from the nobles' squabbles among
themselves.
When Elabon conquered and held the northlands,
the road that bore the Empire's name had also been one
of the chief routes along which colonists had settled Far-
ther from the Elabon Way, the folk native to the land
were more in evidence. They were dark like Elabonians,
but slimmer and more angular, their faces full of fore-
head and cheekbones.
Old customs lingered away from the highway, too.
Lords' castles grew scarce; most of the peasant villages
held freeholders, men who owed no part of their crop to

Prince of the North
105
a baron. Gerin wondered how they d fared when Trokme
raiders swooped down on them: they had no lords to
ride to their defense, either.
The freeholders measured him and Van with their
eyes when the travelers paused in a village to buy a hen
before evening caught them. "Youre for the Sibyl, then?"
asked the man who sold it to them. His Elabonian had a
curious flavor to it, not quite an accent, but old-fashioned,
as if currents of speech had swept up the Elabon Way,
too, but never reached this little hamlet
'That we are," Gerin answered
"You've rich gear," the peasant observed. "Be you
nobles?"
Van spoke first "Me, I'm just a warrior. Anyone who
tries taking this corselet off my back will find out what
kind of warrior I am, and wont be happier for knowing,
either."
"I can take care of myself, too," Gerin said Peasants
without lords had to defend themselves, which meant
they needed weapons and armor. Robbing people who
already had them seemed a likely way to acquire such.
If that was in the peasant s mind, he didn't let on {but
then, he wouldn't, Gerin thought). He said, "Aye, the
both of you have that look. Go on, then, and the gods
watch over you through the night"
As soon as they were out of earshot, Gerin spoke to
Van, who was driving: 'Tut as much space between that
village and us as you can. If you find a side road just
before sunset, go up it or down it a ways. We'll want to
camp where we can hide our nightfire."
"Right you are," Van said. "I'd have done the same
thing without your saying a word, mind, but I'm glad
you have the same thoughts in mind as I do. On your
watch, sleep with your bow, your sword, and your shield
and helm where you can grab them in a hurry."

106
Harry Turtledove
"If I thought I could, Fd sleep in armor tonight," the
Fox said Van grunted out a short burst of laughter and
nodded
They traveled until the ghosts began to wail in their
ears. Then, setting his jaw, Gerin sacrificed the hen to
calm the spirits. A boulder shielded the light of the fire
from the little track down which they traveled to get off
the main road to Ikos.
Gerin had the first watch. Nothos and Ttwaz stood
close together, low in the east at sunset: both were
approaching full, though swift-moving TLwaz would reach
it a couple of days sooner than Nothos. Math would not
rise until almost halfway through his watch, and Van alone
could commune with Elleb, for the ruddy moon would
stay below the horizon till after midnight
The Fox moved as far away from the fire and the
blood-filled trench near it as the ghosts would allow: he
wanted to be sure he could spot trouble coming down
the road from the village where he'd bought the chicken.
His bow was strung, his quiver on his back and ready for
him to reach over his shoulder and pull out a bronze-
tipped shaft
Sure enough, just about the time when golden Math
began peeping through the leaves of the trees, he heard
men coming along the road from the west. They weren't
trying very hard to keep quiet; they chattered among
themselves as they ambled eastward
They all carried torches, he saw when they came to
the crossroads. Even so, the ghosts bothered them. One
said, 'This havering is fair to drive me mad An we don't
find them soon, I'm for my hut and my wife."
"Ah, but will she be for you in the middle of the night?"
another asked The lot of them laughed They paused at
the narrow track down which Gerin and Van had gone.
A couple of them peered toward the Fox. He crouched

Prince of the North
107
lower behind the bush that concealed him, hoping the
light of three moons would not betray him to the peas-
ants. Maybe their own torchlight left them nightblind,
for they did not spy him. After some muttered discus-
sion, they kept heading east down the main road
Perhaps half an hour later, they came straggling back.
Now their torches were guttering toward extinction, and
they hurried on toward their village. "Mayhap 'tis as well
we found the whoresons not," one of them said; Gerin
recognized the voice of the fellow who'd sold him the
hen. 'They'd have slain some or ever we overcame them."
"We need arms," somebody answered
"Belike, but we need men to wield them, too," the
hen-seller replied "You were in the fields, and saw them
not a brace of proper rogues, ready for aught. We'd
have given the ghosts our own blood had we broiled
ourselves with them, I tell you."
As the peasants withdrew, the argument got too low-
voiced for Gerin to follow. The peasant who'd sold him
the chicken was right; he and Van would have sold their
lives dear. Even so, he was nothing but glad the farmers
or robbers or whatever they reckoned themselves to be
hadn't found him and his comrade. No matter how dearly
you sold your life, you could never buy it back.
The Fox drew back down the path toward his camp.
He didn't think the locals would come out again, and he
proved right When Math had traveled a litde more than
halfway from the horizon to the meridian, he woke Van
and told him what had passed
"Expected as much," the outlander answered, setting
his crimson-crested helm on his head and adjusting die
cheekpieces. 'They had that look to 'em, so they did.
Not likely they'll be back, not so late in the night"
"No." Gerin got out of armor as Van donned it.
"Wouldn't do to count on that, though "

108	Harry Turtledove
"Hardly." Van's rumbling chuckle had next to no breath
behind it 'Tell you something else, Captain: on the way
home, we make sure we roll through this place around
noontime, so were none too close to it the night before
or the night after."
"Can't argue with you." Gerin yawned enormously.
"Haven't the wit to argue with anything right now. I just
want to sleep. If I get killed while you're on watch, I'll
never forgive you."
"Nor have the chance, either," Van said, chuckling
again. Gerin crawled under the blanket, conceding him
the last word.
He awoke unmurdered the next morning to the savory
smell of toasting sausage. Van had built the fire up from
embers and was improvising breakfast The flames sput-
tered and hissed as grease dripped down into them. Gerin
accepted a sharp stick with a length of hard sausage
impaled on it, burned the roof of his mouth when he
tried to take a bite while it was still too hot to eat, swore,
and then did manage to get the meat down.
Van finished before he did, and harnessed the horses
while he was getting into his cuirass and greaves. A jay
perched on a branch of a spruce seedling screeched at
the outlander all the while. He pointed at it. "You'd best
be quiet—some lands I've been through, the folk reckon
songbirds good eating." As if it understood him, the jay
shut up.
"Elabonians eat songbirds now and again," Gerin said.
"We catch 'em with nets, usually, not with bow and arrow."
"Aye, that makes sense," Van said. "They're so small
and swift, you'd need to be a dead shot to hit 'em, and
you'd waste a slew of arrows." He fastened a last strap.
"Come along, Captain. Let's be off."
The forest deepened and took on a new aspect as they
rolled on toward Ikos. Perhaps, Gerin thought, taking

Prince of the North
109
on an old aspect was a better way of describing it.
Elabonian traders and explorers, back in the days before
Ros the Fierce brought the northlands under imperial
control, described them as almost unbroken forest from
the High Kirs to the Niffet and all the way west to the
Oiynian Ocean.
Around the Sibyls shrine at Ikos, that ancient forest
survived undisturbed. Some of the gnarled oaks and deep
green pines might have been saplings when the men
round what would become the City of Elabon were still
unlettered barbarians. Some of them might have been
saplings before the Kizzuwatnans in their river valleys
scratched the worlds first letters onto clay tablets and
set them in an oven to bake.
Maybe the shaggy beards of moss hanging from many
of those trees helped muffle sound, or maybe some lin-
gering power clung to the forest: some of the trees that
grew there, at any rate, Gerin had never seen outside
these confines. Whatever the reason, the woods were
eerily still. Even the squeak and rattle of the wagon's
ungreased axles seemed diminished Far above the road-
way, branches from either side interlaced, cutting off a
good part of the daylight and turning the rest cool and
green and shifting.
"If we could drive the wagon under the sea, it might
look like this," Gerin said.
"Maybe so." Van kept craning his neck, looking up,
down, all around "I don't like this place—and I don't
think it likes people, either. It wishes we weren't here,
and so do I."
"I'd argue with you, if only I thought you were wrong."
Gerin kept not quite hearing things pacing alongside the
road as if tracking the wagon, not quite seeing them no
matter how quickly he turned his head toward what he
hadn't quite heard

110
Harry Turtledove
Van mused, "I wonder what would happen if, come a
dry summer, some lord sent his peasants in here with
axes and torches."
Gerin wondered if the forest and the things that dwelt
in it understood Elabonian. He feared they did, for all at
once the cover of branches over the road grew thicker
and lower, while most of those branches suddenly
seemed full of thorns. The very roadway narrowed, with
trees—many of them full of thorns, too—crowding close,
as if ready to reach out and seize the intruders. Once or
twice he was sure he saw eyes staring balefully at him
from behind the leaves, but he never got a glimpse of
the creatures to which they were attached
Nervously, hesaid, "You were just joking there, weren't
you, my friend?"
"What? Oh, aye." Van was more than bold enough
against any human foe, but how could even the boldest
man fight a forest? Eyeing the growing number of
encroachingbranches,hewenton, "All this lovely green-
ery? In truth, it would be a dreadful shame to peel even
one leaf off its stem."
For a long moment, nothing happened But just when
Gerin was about to grab for his sword and start slashing
away at the aroused trees andbushes, everything returned
to the way it had been. The sun played through breaks in
the overhead canopy, the road widened out again, and
the trees went back to being just trees. Whatever had
been moving along with the wagon went away, or at least
became altogether silent
"Whew!" Van muttered under his breath. "Place must
have decided I was just joking after all—which I was, of
course." He added that last in a much louder voice.
"Of course you were," Gerin agreed heartily. Then
his voice fell: "All the same, we'll spend tonight in one
of the lodgings round Ikos, not in this wood That will

Prince of the North
111
further prove we mean no harm to the powers here."
Van's eyes met his. The two men shared one thought:
It wiU also keep anything in the forest that's still angry
from coming down on us. The words hung unspoken in
the air. Gerin didn't want to give any of those possibly
angry things ideas they didn't have already
The sun was low in the west behind Gerin and Van
when they topped a rise arid looked down into the valley
wherein nested Biton's gleaming white marble shrine
and, leading down from within it, the rift in the earth
that led to the Sibyl's chamber.
"Last time we came this way, we camped in the
woods," Van said. "As you say, though, better to pay the
scot at one of the inns down there tonight" A little town
had grown up in front of the Sibyl's shrine, catering to
those who came to it seeking oracular guidance.
"Aye, you're right." Gerin sighed. He didn't like silver
going without good cause. Come to that, he wasn't over-
fond of paying silver even with good cause. But he did
not want to spend a night in these uncanny woods; they
were liable to shelter worse things than ghosts. He
twitched the reins and urged the horses forward.
When he'd visited Ikos before, the town in front of
the shrine had been packed with Elabonians from both
the northlands and south of the High Kirs, Sithonians,
Kizzuwatnans, Trokmoi, Shanda nomads, and other folk
as well. A big reason Gerin had preferred to camp in the
woods then was that all the inns had bulged at the seams.
Now, as the wagon rolled into town, he found the dirt
streets all but empty. Several of the inns had closed; a
couple of them, by their dilapidated look, had been empty
for years. The innkeepers who survived all rushed from
their establishments and fell on him and Van with glad
cries. Gerin hardly needed to haggle with them; they bid

112
Harry Turtledove
against one another until he got his lodging, supper, and
a promise of breakfast for half what he'd expected to
pay.
The taproom in the inn was all but deserted. Apart
from Gerin and Van, only a couple of locals sat at the
tables, drinking ale and telling stories they d probably all
heard a thousand times. The innkeeper brought ale and
drinking jacks to his new guests. "And what would your
pleasure for supper be?" he asked, bowing as low as if
the Fox had been Hildor III, Emperor of Elabon.
"Not chicken," he and Van said, much as they had at
Ricolfs.
"You've traveled some way, then, and spent nights
in the open." The innkeeper pursed his lips to show
he sympathized. "I killed a young pig this afternoon. I
was going to smoke and salt down the flesh, but I do
some lovely chops flavored with basil and thyme and
wild mushrooms. Its a splendid dish, if I say so myself,
and one I don't have the chance to prepare as often as
I'd like these days. True, the cooking of it takes a while,
but where have you gentlemen to go in the mean-
time?"
Gerin and Van looked at each other. They nodded
The Fox said, 'Tour trade has fallen off since the Trokmoi
swarmed over the Niffet and the Empire shut the last
passage up from the south."
"Good my sir, you have no idea." The innkeeper rolled
his eyes. "Sometimes I think all of us left here make our
living by taking in one another's washing. The shrine has
fallen on hard times, that it has, and every one of us with
it"
"Does the old Sibyl still live?" Gerin asked "I'd not
expected to find her breathing when I was last here five
years ago. Now nothing would surprise me."
"No, Biton took her for his own last year," the

Prince of the North
113
innkeeper answered. 'The god speaks through a younger
woman now. Tis not that the quality of oracle has suffered
that's cost us trade" —he made haste to reassure the
Fox— "only that fewer folk now find their way hither."
T understand." Gerin drained his jack dry. The inn-
keeper hastened to refill it. Gerin drank again, sighed
with something close to contentment "Good to relax
here, away from the ghosts, away from robbers in the
night, with only the worries that brought me here to
carry on my shoulders."
"That my humble establishment is able to ease your
burdens does my heart good," the innkeeper declared
'To say nothing of your coin hoard," Gerin said diyly.
The innkeeper turned his head to one side and
coughed, asifmentionofmoneyembarrassedhim. Then
he paused, plainly listening over again to what Gerin
had said a moment before. "Robbers in the night, good
my sir? So men begin to hold the ghosts at bay and the
gods in contempt?'
"Men on the very road that leads here," the Fox said,
and told of the free peasants who'd looked to arm them-
selves at his and Van's expense. "They didn't come on us,
for which Dyaus be praised—and Biton, too, for watch-
ing over us—but they weren't out there in the darkness
just for the journey. I heard them speak; I know what
I'm talking about"
"Sometimes I think the whole world is guttering down
toward darkness, like a candle on the last of its tallow,"
the innkeeper said sadly. "Even my dreams these days
are full of monsters and pallid things from the under-
ground darkness. At night in my bed I see them spread-
ing over the land, and poor feeble men powerless to do
aught against them."
Gerin started to nod here was another man who
shared his gloomy view of the world Then he gave the

114	Harry Turtledove
innkeeper a sharp look. T too have had dreams like that,"
he said
"And I," Van put in. "I tell you the truth—I mislike
the omen."
"Maybe the Sibyl will shed light on it" Gerin did his
best to sound hopeful, but feared his best was none too
good.

IV
The horses were curried till their coats gleamed and
hitched to the wagon waiting when Gerin went out to
the stables to reclaim them. He tipped the groom who'd
cared for them, saying, "You did more here than was
required of you."
"Lord, you're generous beyond my deserts," the fel-
low answered, but Gerin noticed he did not decline the
proffered coin.
Every other time Gerin had visited the Sibyl's shrine,
the area around the fenced forecourt had been packed
with wagons, chariots, and men afoot, and with all the
visitors passionately eager to put their questions to Biton's
oracle as soon as possible. The only way to get in
quickly—sometimes the only way to get in at all—was
to pay off one of the gods eunuch priests.
The Fox had prepared himself for that eventuality. At
his belt swung two medium-heavy pouches, one an
offering for the temple, die other (though die word would
not be used in public) a bribe for the priest who would
conduct him to the shrine.
He soon discovered he was going to save himself some
money. Whenhe and Van came to the gate in the marble
outwall, only three or four parties waited ahead of them.
Just a few more rolled up behind the wagon. Instead of
shouting, cursing chaos, the oracle-seekers formed a
single neat line.
Van recognized what that meant, too. "Let's see the
priests try to squeeze anything past their due out of us
today," he said, laughing.
115

116	Harry Turtledove
To their credit, the priests did not try. They took the
suppliants one group at a time, leading away their ani-
mals to be seen to while they consulted the Sibyl. Every-
thing ran as smoothly as the turning spokes of a chariot
wheel. Gerin wished all his visits had gone so well. He
also wished this particular visit hadn't been necessary.
A plump, beardless fellow in a robe of glittering cloth
of gold approached the wagon. Bowing to Gerin and
Van, he said, "Gentles, you may call me Kinifor. I shall
conduct you to the Sibyl and escort you from her cham-
ber once the god has spoken through her." His voice
was pleasant, almost sweet, not a man's voice but not a
woman's, either.
Thinking of the mutilation eunuchs suffered, Gerin
always felt edgy around them. Because the mutilation
was not their fault, he always did his best to conceal those
feelings. He swung a plump leather sack into Kinifor's
equally plump hand 'This is to help defray the cost of
maintaining your holy shrine."
The eunuch priest hefted the bag, not only to gauge
its weight but to listen for the sweet jingle of diver. "You
are generous," he said, and seemed well enough pleased
even without any special payment straight to him; Gerin
wondered if the temple would see all the money in the
leather sack. The priest went on, "Descend, if you will,
and accompany me to the temple."
As Gerin and Van got down from the wagon, another
priest, this one in a plainer robe, came over and led
the horses away. The travelers followed Kinifor
through the gate and into the fenced-off temenos
surrounding the shrine. The first thing the Fox saw
was a naked corpse prominently displayed just inside
the gateway; hideous lesions covered the body. Gerin
jerked a thumb at it. "Another would-be temple rob-
ber?"

Prince of the North
117
"Just so." Kinifor gave him a curious look "Am I to
infer from your lack of surprise that you have seen oth-
ers Biton smote for their evil presumption?"
"Another, anyhow," Gerin answered 'With the chaos
that's fallen on the northlands since the last time I was
here, though, I wondered if your god was up to the job
of protecting the treasures here from everyone who'd
like to get his hands on them."
'This is Biton s precinct on earth," Kinifor said in
shocked tones. "If he is not potent here, where will his
strength be made manifest?"
Perhaps nowhere, Gerin thought. When the
Elabonians conquered the northlands, they'd taken Biton
into their own pantheon, styling him a son of Dyaus.
But the Trokmoi brought their own gods with them, and
seemed to care little for those already native to the land
If they prevailed, Biton might fail for lack of worshipers.
Van cast an appraising eye on the treasures lavishly
displayed in the courtyard before the temple: the stat-
ues of gold and ivory, others of marble painted into the
semblance of life or of greening bronze, the cauldrons
and mixing bowls set on golden tripods, the piled ingots
that reflected the sun's rays in buttery brilliance.
The oudander whistled softly. "I wondered if I
misremembered from last time I was here, but no: there's
a great pile of stuff about for your god to watch over,
priest."
'The farseeing one has protected it well thus far." One
of Kinifor's hands shaped a gesture of blessing. "Long
may he continue to do so."
The white marble temple that housed the entrance
to the Sibyl's cave was in a mixed Sithonian-Ekbonian
style, a gift of Oren the Builder to win the favor of Biton's
priesthood—and the god himself—not long after the
northlands came under Elabonian sway. The splendid

118
Harry Turtledove
fane, elegantly plain outside and richly decorated within,
was surely magnificent enough to have succeeded in its
purpose.
Seemingly out of place within all that gleaming stone,
polished wood, and precious metal was the cult image
of Biton, which stood close by the fissure in the earth
that led down to the cavern wherein the Sibyl proph-
esied The temple was a monument to Elabonian civili-
zation at its best, to everything Gerin labored to preserve
in the northlands. The cult image was ... something else.
As he had the last time he visited the shrine, the Fox
tried to imagine how old the square column of black
basalt was. As he had then, he failed This was no realis-
tic image of the god, carved with loving care by a
Sithonian master sculptor or some Elabonian artist who
had studied for years in Kortys. The only suggestions of
features the column bore were crudely carved eyes and
a jutting phallus. Yet somehow, perhaps because of the
aura of immeasurable antiquity that clung to it, the cult
image carried as much impact as any polished product
of the stonecutters art.
"Seat yourselves, gentles," Kinifor said, waving to the
rows of pews in front of the basalt column, "and pray
that the lord Bitons sight reaches to the heart of your
troubles, whatever they may be."
The eunuch sat beside Gerin, bowed his head, and
murmured supplications to his god Hie Fox also prayed,
though unsure how much attention Biton paid to peti-
tioners' requests. Some gods, like Mavrix, seemed to lis-
ten to every whisper addressed to them, even if they did
not always grant requests. Others, such as Dyaus the
father of all, were more distant. He didn't know where
in that range Biton fell, but took no chances, either.
As soon as he finished his prayer, he glanced up at the
cult image. Just for a moment, he thought he saw brown

Prince of the North
119
eyes staring back at him in place of the almost unrecog-
nizable scratches on the basalt He shivered a litde; he'd
had that same odd impression on his last visit to the
shrine. Biton'spowermightnot reach far,butitwas strong
here at its heart
Puffing a little, a plump eunuch priest climbed up
out of the fissure in the earth that led down to the Sibyls
chamber. Behind him came a grizzled Elabonian with a
thoughtful expression on his face. With a nod to Gerin,
he strode out of the temple and away to reclaim his team
and vehicle.
Kinifor said, "Nothing now prevents us from seeking
the wisdom Biton imparts through his sacred Sibyl. If
you will please to follow me, stepping carefully as you
descend—•"
On his previous visit, Gerin had had to fight for his
life against Trokmoi dissatisfied with what they heard
from the oracle. He looked down to see if bloodstains
still remained in the cracks between the tesserae of the
mosaic floor. He saw none, which pleased him.
Kinifor stepped into the cave mouth. Gerin followed.
Darkness, illuminated only by torches not nearly close
enough together, swallowed him. The air in the cave felt
altogether different from the muggy heat he'd endured
in the temple: it was damp but cool, with a constant
breeze blowing in his face so that the atmosphere never
turned stagnant
Kinifor's shadow, his own, and Van's swooped and flut-
tered in the torchlight like demented birds. Flickering
shadows picked out bits of rock crystal—or possibly even
gems—embedded in the stone of the cave walls. One
glint came red as blood 'Was that a ruby we just passed?"
Gerin asked.
"It could be so," Kinifor answered. "Biton has guided
us to many treasures underground"

120	Harry Turtledove
"Is ityour god oryourgreed?"Van asked Kinifor splut-
tered indignantly. The outlander laughed at the priests
annoyance. Just then they came to a branch of the cave
that had been sealed up with stout brickwork. "What about
that? Didn't you have to wall it up because your prying
roused things that would better have been left asleep?"
'Well, yes," Kinifor admitted reluctantly, "but that was
long ago, when we were first learning the ways of this
cave. The bricks say as much, if you know how to read
them."
Gerin did Instead of being flat on all sides, the bricks
bulged on top, as if they were so many hard-baked loaves
of bread. That style had come out of Kizzuwatna in
ancient days, not long after men first gathered together
in cities and learned to read and write and work bronze.
He took a long look at those bricks. They couldn't possi-
bly reach back so far in time ... could they?
After that first long look came a second one. Loaf-
shaped bricks had not held their popularity long in
Kizzuwatna: they required more mortar to bind them
together than those of more ordinary shape. Some of
the mortar on these, after Biton only knew how many
centuries, had begun to crack and fall away from the
bricks; little chips lay on the stone floor of the cave.
The Fox pointed to them, frowning. "I don't remem-
ber your wall there falling apart the last time I came this
way."
"I hadn't noticed that," Kinifor confessed "Some
evening, when no suppliants seek the Sibyl's advice, we
shall have to send down a crew of masons to repair the
ravages of time." His laugh was smooth and liquid, like
the low notes of a flute. "If the barrier has sufficed to
hold at bay whatever lies beyond it lo these many years,
surely a few days one way or the other are of scant
import."

Prince of the North
121
"But—•" Gerin held his tongue. The eunuch priest
was bound to be right And yet—this wasn't a slow accu-
mulation of damage over many years. Unless he and
Kinifor were both wrong, it had happened recently.
The rift: wound deeper into the earth. Kinifor led Gerin
and Van past more spell-warded walls. Several times the
Fox saw more loose mortar on the ground. He would
have taken oath it had not been there when he'd last
gone down to the Sibyls chamber, but forbore to speak
of it again. Kinifor, plainly, did not intend to hear what-
ever he had to say.
The priest raised a hand for those who accompanied
him to halt He peered into the chamber that opened
up ahead, then nodded "Gentles, you may proceed Do
you seek privacy for your question to the Sibyl?'
Privacy would have cost Gerin an extra bribe. He
shook his head. "No, you may hear it, and her answer,
too. Its no great secret"
"As you say." Kinifor sounded sulky; most people who
thought a question important enough to put to the Sibyl
also thought it so important that no one other than Biton
and his mouth on earth could be trusted with it Gerin
had been of that opinion on his latest visit Now, though,
he did not mind if the priest listened as he enquired
about his son's fate.
Kinifor stepped aside to let the Fox and Van precede
him into the Sibyls underground chamber. As before,
Gerin marveled at the throne on which she sat It threw
back the torchlight with glistening, nacreous highlights,
as if carved from a single black pearl. Yet contemplating
the oyster that could have birthed such a pearl sent his
imagination reeling.
"It is a new Sibyl," Van murmured, very low.
Gerin nodded. Instead of the ancient, withered crone
who'd occupied this chamber on all his previous journeys

122	Harry Turtledove
to Xkos, on the throne sat a pleasant-faced woman of
perhaps twenty-five in a simple white linen dress that
fastened over her left shoulder and reached halfway
between her knees and ankles. She nodded politely, first
to Kinifor, then to those who would question her.
But when she spoke, she might have been the old
Sibyl reborn. "Step forward, lads," she said to Gerin and
Van, Her voice was a musical contralto, but it held ancient
authority. Though the Fox and the outlander were both
older than she, they were notmerely lads but babes when
measured against the divine power she represented.
Gerin obeyed her without hesitation.
Coming to the crone on that seat had seemed natural
to him. Finding a new, young Sibyl there made him think
for the first time of the life she led Biton s mouth on earth
was pledged to lifelong celibacy: indeed, pledged never
even to touch a whole man. Here far below the ground
she would stay, day upon day, the god taking possession of
her again and again as she prophesied, her only company
even when above the earth (he assumed—he hoped—
she was allowed out of the chamber when no more sup-
pliants came) eunuchs and perhaps serving women. Thus
she would live out however many years she had
He shivered It struck him more as divine punishment
than reward
"What would you learn from my master Biton?' the
Sibyl asked
Gerin had thought about how to ask that question all
the way south from Fox Keep. If the god got an ambigu-
ous query, the questioner was liable to get an ambigu-
ous reply; indeed, Biton was famous for finding ambi-
guity even where the questioner thought none lurking.
Taking a deep breath, the Fox asked, "Is my son alive
and well, and, if he is, when and where shall we be
reunited?'

Prince of the North
123
'That strikes me as being two questions," Kinifor said
disapprovingly.
"Let the god judge," Gerin answered, to which the
priest gave a grudging nod
Biton evidently reckoned the question acceptable. The
mantic fit came over the young Sibyl, harder than it had
with the old Her eyes rolled up in her head She thrashed
about on the throne, careless of her own modesty. And
when she spoke, the voice that came from her throat
was not her own, but the same powerful baritone her
predecessor had used—Biton's voice:
"The Sibyls doom we speak of now
(And worry less about the child):
To flee Ikos, midst fearful row
(Duren's fate may well be mild).
AH ends, among which is the vow
Pledged by an oracle defiled."
The god left his mouth on earth as abrupdy as his
spirit had filled her. She slumped against an arm of the
throne in a dead faint
Kinifor said, "Gendes, the lord Biton has spoken. You
must now leave this chamber, that the Sibyl may recover
and ready herself for those who come here next"
"But the Sibyl—or Biton, if you d rather—said next
to nothing about the question I asked," Gerin protested
"Most of that verse had more to do with you, by the
sound of it, than with me."
'That is neither here nor there," Kinifor said. 'The
god speaks as he will, not as any man expects. Who are
you, mortal, to question his majesty and knowledge?"
To that Gerin had no answer, only frustration that he
had not learned more from the query over which he'd
pondered so hard on the journey down from his keep.

124
Harry Turtledove
He took what coals of comfort he could: Biton had urged
him not to worry. But what if that was because Duren
was already dead, and so beyond worry? Would the god
have mentioned him by name if he was dead, especially
when Gerin had not named him? Who could say what a
god would do? Where the Fox had done his best to pre-
vent ambiguity, it had found him out Dismayed, he
turned to go.
Van pointed to the Sibyl, who remained unconscious.
"Should the lass not have come back to herself by now?
You'd not bring new folk down here if they were to find
her nearer dead than alive."
Kinifor opened his mouth, perhaps to say something
reassuring. But before he did, he too took another look
at the Sibyl. A frown crinkled the unnaturally smooth
skin of his face. 'This is—unusual," he admitted. "She
should be awake and, if a priest is here with her, asking
what the god spoke through her lips."
Gerin started to take a step toward her, then remem-
bered the conditions under which she served Biton: any
touch from him, no matter how well-meaning, brought
defilement with it. He wondered if that was what the
last line of her prophecy meant, then stopped worrying
about prophecy while she sprawled unconscious. He
asked Kinifor, "Do you want to tend to her while we
make our own way back up to the temple?"
He might as well have suggested burning down the
fane. 'That cannot be!" the eunuch priest gasped. "For
one thing, you might well lose your way, take a wrong
turning, and never be seen again. For another, some
turns lead to treasures not displayed above ground. No
one not connected with the cult of Biton may turn his
eyes upon them."
"I know what Biton does to those who would be
thieves," Gerin protested, but Kinifor shook his head

Prince of the North
125
so vehemently that his plump jowls wobbled.
Van, as usual, spoke to the point 'Well, what about
the wench, then?"
Kinifor went over to her, put a hand in front of her
nose and mouth to make sure she was breathing, felt for
her pulse. When he straightened, his face held relief as
well as worry. "I do not believe she will perish in the next
moments. Let me guide you back to the surface of the
earth, after which she shall, of course, be properly seen
to."
"Honh!" Van said. "Seems to me you care more about
Bitons gold and gauds than about his Sibyl."
Konifor answered that with an injured silence which
suggested to Gerin that his friend had hit the target dead
center. But this was the priests domain, not his, so he let
Kinifor lead him out of die Sibyls chamber and back up
the length of the cave to Bitons temple. Still grumbling
and looking back over his shoulder, Van reluctantly fol-
lowed
To give Kinifor his due, he hurried along the stony
way, pushing his corpulent frame till he panted like a
dog after a long run. Surprisingly soon, light not from
torches showed ahead, though the priests body almost
obliterated it as he climbed out of the cave mouth. Gerin
came right after him, blinking until his eyes grew used
to daylight once more.
"About time," rasped die tough-looking fellow who
waited impatiendy for his turn at the oracle. 'Take me
down there, priest, and no more nonsense."
"I fear I cannot, sir," Kinifor answered 'The Sibyl
seems to have suffered an indisposition, and will not be
able to reply to questioners at least for some litde while."
That brought exclamations of dismay from the other
eunuchs within earshot They hurried to Kinifor to find
out what had happened He quickly explained. Two of

126
Harry Turtledove
Biton's servitors hurried down into the cave mouth. "If
she has not yet returned to herself, we shall bring her
out," one of them said as he disappeared.
The Elabonian warrior whose question was delayed
shouted, 'This is an outrage!" When no one paid any
attention to him, he shouted viler things than that His
face turned the color of maple leaves in fell.
Gerin looked down his long, straight nose at the man.
"Do you know what you remind me of, sirrah?" he said
coldly. "You remind me of my four-year-old son when
he pitches a fit because I tell him he can't have any honied
blueberries till after supper."
"Who in the five hells do you think you are, to take
that tone with me?' the fellow demanded, setting his
right hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I'm Gerin the Fox, Prince of the North," Gerin said,
matching the gesture with his left hand. "You should be
thankful I don't know your name, or want to."
The red-faced man scowled but did not back down.
Gerin wondered if he would have to fight in Biton's shrine
for the second time in two visits. The temple complex
had guards, but most of them were outside the fane keep-
ing an eye on the treasures displayed in the courtyard
and on any visitors who, careless of Biton's curse, might
develop itchy fingers.
Then, from the entrance to the shrine, someone called,
"Any man who draws his blade on Gerin the Fox, espe-
cially with Van of the Strong Arm beside him, is a fool.
Of course, you've been acting like a fool, fellow, so that
may account for it"
The angry Elabonian whirled "And what do you know
about it, you interfering old polecats twat?' he snarled,
apparently not caring how many enemies he made.
The newcomer strode toward him. He was a tall, lean
man of perhaps forty, with a forward-thrusting face, a

Prince of the North
127
proud beak of a nose, and dark, chilly eyes that put Gerin
in mind of a hunting hawk's. He said, Td be the fool if I
didn't make it my business to learn all I could of Gerin
the Fox. I am Grand Duke Aragis, also called the Archer."
Hie angry color drained from the face of the impa-
tient warrior as he realized he'd caught himself between
the two strongest men in the northlands. With a last mut-
tered curse, he stomped out of the temple, though he
took care to step wide around Aragis.
"Well met," Gerin said. He and Aragis were rivals,
but not open enemies.
'Well met," Aragis answered He turned his intent
gaze on the Fox. "I should have thought I might find
you here. After word of your son, are you?"
"Aye," Gerin said stonily "And you?"
"On business of my own," Aragis said.
"Which is none of my business," Gerin suggested.
Aragis nodded—once; he was not a man given to excess.
Gerin said, "Have it as you wish. Whatever your ques-
tion is, you may not be able to put it to the Sibyl, any
more than that big-mouthed ruffian was."
"Why not?" Aragis asked suspiciously. The idea that
Gerin should know something he didn't seemed to offend
him.
Before the Fox could answer, the two priests who had
gone down to see how the Sibyl fared came back up into
the temple. They carried her between them, her face
white and her arms dangling limply toward the ground.
"Does she live?" Gerin called to them in some alarm.
"Good sir, she does," one of the eunuchs answered.
"But since her senses do not return to her, we'll take her
to her own dwelling" —he nodded his head to show in
which direction from the shrine that lay— "and minister
to her there. At the very least, she can rest more com-
fortably in her bed than in the underground chamber.

135	Harry Turtledove
Surely, though, the lord Biton will aid in her recovery"
That would have come out better had it sounded more
like assertion and less like prayer.
'°Why should the lord Biton care?" Van asked, blunt
as always. "Down below there, he sounded like he was
getting out of the prophecy game."
"You rave, good sir, and tread the edge of blasphemy
as well," the priest answered He looked for support to
Kinifor, who had heard the Sibyls last prophecy.
The eunuch who had accompanied Gerin and Van
made a strange snuffling sound, almost one a horse would
produce, as he blew air out through his lips. Slowly, he
said, 'The verses may lend themselves to the interpreta-
tion proposed Other interpretations, however, must be
more probable."
Even such a halfhearted admission was enough to
shock the other two priests. Clucking to themselves, they
carried the unconscious Sibyl away.
Kinifor said, "I begin to fear there will be no further
communing with the lord Biton this day. Perhaps every-
one here would be well advised to return to his inn, there
to await the Sibyls return to health. We shall send word
directly that occurs, and shall seek no further fee for
your inquiries."
"Youd better not" Aragis put as much menace into
three words as Gerin had ever heard. "And if the wench
ups and dies, I expect my silver back."
The eunuch twisted his hand in a gesture to turn aside
the evil omen. 'The lord Biton would not summon two
Sibyls to himself in such a short span of time," he said,
but his words, like the other priests, lacked confidence.
People filed out of the shrine, muttering and grum-
bling to themselves. Kinifor went out to let those who
waited in the courtyard know they would be disappointed
in their hope for an oracular response. Their replies, like

Prince of the North
129
those in the temple, ranged from curious to furious.
With rough humor, Aragis turned to Gerin. "What
did you ask her, anyway, to put her in such a swivet? To
many you?'
Gerin growled down deep ir\ his throat and took a
step toward the Archer. Unlike the fellow who'd started
to move on him, though, he mastered himself. "I ought
to just tell you its none of your cursed business," he said,
"but since you already know why I'm here, whats the
point? I asked after my son, as you've figured out for
yourself."
"That's a bad business," Aragis answered. "The
whoreson who did it may come to me, seeking advan-
tage from it By Dyaus, if he does, I'll run up a cross for
him, and you'll have the boy back fast as horses can run.
I swear it"
"If it happens so, I'll be in your debt," the Fox said.
"I'd be lying if I told you the idea that you had some-
thing to do with it was never in my mind."
Aragis scowled. "Because we're the two biggest, we
circle round each other like a couple of angry dogs—I
don't trust you, either, as you know full well. But I did
not have my hand in this, and I will not seek to profit
from it, come what may. Would you, were it my lad?"
"I hope not," Gerin said. Aragis chewed on that, then
slowly nodded. He looked sincere, but his face, as Gerin
had already seen, showed what he willed it to, not nec-
essarily what he felt That was useful for a ruler, as Gerin
knew—his own features were similarly schooled
Van said, "All right, Archer, if you don't care to circle
and watch and not trust, suppose you do tell us why you
came up to Ikos, so long as it's not life or death for your
holding that we know."
For a moment, Aragis was nonplussed Gerin hadn't
been sure he could be. Then his usual watchful expression

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Harry Turtledove
returned as he considered the outlander's words. At last
he said, "Fair enough, I suppose. I rode here because
I've had bad dreams; I hoped—I hope still—the Sibyl
could put meaning to them."
"What sort of dreams?" Gerin's curiosity was as
dependable as the changing phases of the moons.
Aragis hesitated again, perhaps not caring to show a
rival any weakness. But after another pause for thought,
he murmured, "If I can't understand them, you bloody
well won't, either." He raised his voice to answer the
Fox: "They've been filled with horrid things, monsters,
call them what you will, overrunning my lands—over-
running the rest of the northlands, too, for all I could
tell." He grimaced and shook his head, as if talking about
the visions made him see them again.
"I too have had this dream," Gerin said slowly.
"And I," Van agreed
"And the innkeeper from whom we've taken rooms,"
Gerin said "I did not like the omen when it was Van and
I alone. Now with four—" He checked himself. 'Tour I
know of, I should say—I like it even less."
"Wherever else we rub, Fox, I'll not argue with you
there." Aragis ran a hand down to the point of his gray-
ing beard "Did the Sibyl say anything to you of this before
she had her fit? What verse did she speak?'
"Why don't you ask him how big his is, as long as
you're snooping?' Van said
Like most men, Aragis seemed a stripling when set
against the burly outlander. But he had no retreat in
him. He reached for the sword that hung on his belt
Before Van could grab any of the lethal hardware he car-
ried, Gerin held up a hand "Hold, both of you," he said
"Aragis, you knowwhat the question was. The answer has
nothing to do with you, so I can give it without fear you'll
gain from it" He repeated the oracular response.

Prince of the North
131
Aragis listened intently, still rubbing his chin and now
and then plucking at his beard When Gerin was done,
the other noble gave a grudging nod "Aye, that's nought
to do with me, and might even hold good news about
Duren mixed in there. But what of the rest? I've never
heard—or heard of—a reply so filled with doom. No
wonder the Sibyl wouldn't wake up after she delivered
it."
"I wonder if it's got summat to do with the dreams
we've had," Van said
Aragis and Gerin both looked at him. As if animated
by a single will, their hands formed the same sign to turn
away evil. "Off with you, omen," Aragis exclaimed The
Fox nodded vehemendy.
Van said, "It's not much of an omen talk and finger-
twitching'll turn aside."
'The little vole will turn and bite in the eagle's claws,"
Gerin answered. "One time in a thousand, or a thou-
sand thousand, he'll draw blood and make the bird drop
him. With omens, you never know which ones you can
shift, so you try to shift them all."
Now it was Van's turn to look thoughtful. "Might be
something to that, I suppose. I know what Fd sooner
do, though, now that the Sibyls not going to give you
what you're after."
"And what's that?" Gerin asked, though he thought
he knew the answer.
Sure enough, Van said, "Go back to the inn and hoist
enough beakers of ale that we don't care about omens
or Sibyls or anything else."
"If there's nothingfor us here, we should head straight
off to Fox Keep," Gerin said, but he sounded doubtful
even to himself.
Van looked at the sun. "You want to start up the road
just a bit before noon, so we can camp for the night in

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Harry Turtledove
Captain, that's the daftest thought you've had in a good-
ish while."
Gerin prided himself on his ability to admit mistakes.
"You're right, it is. And if we're stuck with spending
another day at the inn, how better to pass it than with a
carouse?"
He looked doubtfully at Aragis. Polite talk with his
main rival in the northlands was one thing, a day of drink-
ing with him something else again. Aragis studied him
with the same question on his face. The Fox realized
that, while he and the self-styled grand duke were very
different men, their station gave them common con-
cerns. That was disconcerting; he hadn't tried mentally
putting himself in Aragis' shoes before.
After a moment of awkward silence, the Archer
resolved the problem, saying, "The way back to my hold-
ing is straight enough, and I'll be free of the woods well
before sunset if I start now, so I think I'll head south."
He stuck out his hand. Gerin clasped it 'Whatever
comes, I hope we get through it without trying to carve
each other's livers," he said 'The only one who'd gain
from that is Adiatunnus."
Aragis' eyes grew hawk-watchful again. "Ihearhesent
to you. You were worried whether his men stole your
boy. You're telling me you didn't join forces with him."
That's just what I'm telling you," Gerin answered
"The five hells will vomit forth the damned before I join
hands with a Trokme/'
He waited for Aragis to say som ething like that Aragis
didn't He only nodded to show he'd heard, then walked
off to reclaim the chariot or wagon in which he'd come
to Ikos.
"Cold fish," Van said judiciously. "Not a man who
makes an easy enemy, though, or I miss my guess."

Prince of the North
133
'Tou don't," the Fox answered "We've met only a
couple of times before, so I don't have his full measure
as a man, but what he's done in building up his holding
speaks for itself. And you heard what he had done after
his men hunted down a longtooth that had been taking
cattle from one of his villages?"
"No, somehow I missed that one," Van said. 'Tell me."
"He had an extra strong cross raised, and nailed and
lashed the beast's carcass to it as a warning to others of
its kind—and, more to the point, as a warning to any
men who might have thought about trifling with him."
"Mm. It'd make me think twice, I expect," Van said.
"Well, let's amble after him and get back our animals."
The beasts and the vehicles they drew waited outside
the walled courtyard around the temple. By luck, the
low-ranking priest who'd taken the wagon by the gate
stood close to it now; that meant Gerin didn't have to
convince someone else he wasn't absconding with the
property of another. As he climbed in, he pointed to a
thatch-roofed wooden cottage not far away. "Is that where
the Sibyl lives when she's not prophesying?" he asked
"So it is, good my sir," the priest answered His smooth
face held worry. "I saw her carried there not long since,
and heard rumors and tales so strange I know not what
to believe: even those who brought her seemed con-
fused. Did the mantic trance take her for you?"
"It did. In fact, she lost her senses just afterwards,
and did not get them back again as she usually does."
Without repeating the oracular verse, Gerin told the
priest what had happened in the underground cham-
ber.
The corners of the eunuch's mouth drew down even
further. "Biton grant she recover soon," he exclaimed
"Never has the good god seen fit to call two Sibyls to
himself so quickly. The temple suffers great disruption

134
Harry Turtledove
while the search for a new maid to speak his words goes
on."
'To say nothing of the fees you lose when the oracle is
quiet," Gerin said, remembering sacks of silver he'd
pressed into priests' pudgy palms.
But, in injured tones, the eunuch replied, "I did say
nothing of those fees." Perhaps he was genuinely pious.
Stranger things had happened, Gerin supposed. He
twitched the reins, urging the horses back toward the
inn.
The innkeeper and the head groom met him in front
of it. "You'll honor my establishment with another nights
custom?" the innkeeper asked eagerly, adding, "I trust
all went well for you with the Sibyl? I gather there was
some sort of commotion in the temple?" Like anyone
else, he delighted in gossip.
"Not in the temple—under it," Van said Gerin let
him tell the tale this time. The outlander was a better
storyteller than he, anyhow. When Gerin told what he
knew, he did it baldly, laying out facts to speak for them-
selves. Van embellished and embroidered them, almost
as if he were a minstrel.
When he was through, the innkeeper clapped his
hands. Bowing, he said, "Good my sir, if ever you tire of
the life you lead, which I take to be one of arms, you
would be welcome to earn your bread and meat here at
my inn, for surely the stories you spin would bring in
enough new custom to make having you about a paying
proposition."
'Thank you, sir, but I'm not quite ready yet to sit by
the fire and tell yarns for my supper," Van said. "If you'll
fetch Gerin and me a big jar of ale, though, that'd be a
kindness worth remembering."
Seeking to be even more persuasive, Gerin let silver
softly jingle. The innkeeper responded with alacrity. He

Prince of the North
135
shouted to his servants as Gerin and Van went inside
and sat in the taproom. Grunting with effort, two men
hauled a huge amphora up from the cellar. Right behind
them came another fellow with a flat-bottomed pot full
of earth. The Fox wondered at that until the two men
stabbed the pointed base of the amphora down into the
pot
"It wont stand by itself on a wooden floor, don't you
see?" the innkeeper said. "And if the two of you some-
how empty it, you won't be able to stand by yourselves,
either."
"Good. That's the idea," Van boomed. "You have a
dipper there, my friend, so we can fill our jacks as we
need to? Ah, yes, I see it Splendid If we do come to the
point where we can't walk, you'll be kind enough to have
your men carry us up to our beds?'
'We've done it a few times, or more than a few," said
one of the men who'd lugged in the amphora. "For you,
though, we ought to charge extra, seeing as you're heavy
freight" He looked ready to bolt if Van took that the
wrong way, but the oudander threw back his head and
laughed till the taproom rang.
The innkeeper hovered round Gerin like a bee wait-
ing for a flower to open. The Fox didn't take long to
figure out why He'd jingled silver, but he hadn't shown
any. Now he did The innkeeper bowed himself almost
double as he made the coins vanish—no easy feat, for
he was almost as round as some of the temple eunuchs.
Once paid, he had the sense to leave his guests to
themselves. Van filled two jacks, passed one to Gerin.
He raised on high the one he kept "Confusion to oracles!"
he cried, and poured the red-brown ale down his throat
He let out a long sigh of contentment "Ahhhh!"
Gerin also drank, but more slowly. Halfway through,
he set down his jack and said, 'The poor Sibyl seemed

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Harry Turtledove
confused enough already. I hope she's come back to
herself."
'Well, so do I," Van admitted. He clucked impatiently.
"Come on, Captain, finish up there so I can pour you full
again. Ah, that's better" He plied the dipper. Before
upending his own refilled jack, he went on, '1 wonder if,
for a woman with juice in her like the new Sibyl looks to
have, letting the god fill you makes up for longyears with-
out a man to fill you. Notaswap I'dcaretomake, anyhow."
"I had the same thought myself, when I saw her in the
chamber in place of the crone who'd been there time
out of mind," Gerin answered "I don't suppose Biton
would speak to anyone who wasn't willing to listen,
though."
"Mm, maybe not" Van kicked him under the table.
"What shall we drink to this round?"
Without hesitation, Gerin raised his jack and said,
"Dyaus' curse, and Bitons, too, on whoever kidnapped
Duren." He emptied the jack in one long pull, his throat
working hard Van shouted approval andctank with him.
After a while, they stopped toasting with each round
and settled in for steady drinking. Gerin felt at the tip of
his nose with thumb and forefinger. It was numb, a sure
sign the ale was beginning to have its way with him. Sud-
denly, half drunk, he decided he didn't feel like sliding
sottishly under the table.
Van filled his own jack, lowered the dipper into the
amphora, and brought it, dripping, toward Gerins. When
he turned it so the dark amber stream poured into the
jack, it quickly overflowed He scowled at the Fox. "You're
behindhand there." Only the care with which he pro-
nounced "behindhand" gave any clue to how much he'd
poured down himself.
"I know. Go on without me, if you've a mind to. If I
drink myself stupid today, I'll drinkmyself sad I can feel

Prince of the North
137
it coming on already, and I have plenty to be sad about
even with my wits about me."
The outlander looked at him with an odd expression.
Gerin needed a moment to recognize it; he hadn't often
seen pity on his friend's blunt, hard-featured face. Van
said, The real trouble with you, Captain, is that you
don't let go of your wits no matter how drunk you get
Me, I'm like most folk. After a while, I just stop thinking.
Nice to be able to do that now and again."
"If you say so," Gerin answered. Tve lived by and for
my wits so long now, I suppose, that I'd sooner keep 'em
about me all the time. I'd feel naked—worse than
naked—without 'em."
"Poor bastard." Van had drunk enough to make his
tongue even freer than it usually was. T tell you this,
though: a long time ago I learned it was cursed foolish-
ness to try and make a man go in a direction he doesn't
fancy. So you do what you feel like doing. Me, I intend
to get pie-eyed. Tomorrow morning I'll have a head like
the inside of a drum with two Trokmoi pounding on it,
but I'll worry about that then."
"All right," Gerin said. "You've touched wisdom there,
you know."
"Me? Honh!" Van said with deep scorn. "I don't know
from wisdom. All I know is ale feels good when it's inside
me, and I feel good when I'm inside a wench, and a nice,
friendly fight is the best sport in the world. Who needs
more?"
"No, really." The Fox had enough ale inside him to
make him painfully earnest "So many folk aren't con-
tent to let their friends" —he almost said the people they
love, but knew with accurate instinct that that would have
been more than Van could put up with— "be what they
are. They keep trying to make them into what they think
they're supposed to be."

138
Harry Turtledove
Van grunted "Foolishness," was all he said He plied
the dipper yet again, then burst into raucous song in a
language Germ didn't know.
The outlander went to the jakes several times over
die course of the afternoon as the ale extracted a mea-
sure of revenge. When he came back from the latest of
those visits, he zigzagged to the table like a ship trying to
tack into port against a strong wind. His chair groaned
when he threw his bulk into it, but held
Even after more drinking, he was able to paste an
appreciative smile on his face when a servitor brought
over flatbread and a juicy roast of beef. He used his eat-
ing knife to carve off a chunk that would have done a
starving longtooth proud, and methodically proceeded
to make it disappear, lubricating the passage with ale.
After so many years' comradeship, the outlander's
capacity no longer amazed Gerin, even if it did still awe
him. The innkeeper watched Van eat and drink with
amazement, too: glum amazement that he hadn't
charged more, if the Fox was any judge. Gerin did his
best to damage the roast, too, but, beside Van's, his dep-
redations went all but unnoticed
Twilight faded into night. Torches, their heads dipped
in fat for brighter flames, smoked and crackled in bronze
sconces. Gerin drainedhis jack one last time, set it upside
down on the table, and got to his feet He moved slowly
and carefully, that being the only sort of motion he had
left to him. "I'm for bed," he announced
'Too bad, too bad There's still ale in the jar," Van said
He got up himself, to peer down into it "Not a lot of ale,
but some."
"Don't make me think about it," the Fox said "I'm
going to have a headache in the morning as is; why bring
it on early?'
"You!" Van said "What about me? Pity showed on

Prince of the North
139
his face again, this time self-pity—he had indeed drunk
titanicafly, if he'd managed to make himself maudlin.
Gerin climbed the stairs as if each were a separate
mountain higher than the last. Triumph—and a bellyful
of ale—surged in him when he got to the second story.
The floor seemed to shift under his feet like the sea, but
he reached the room he shared with Van without having
to lean against the wall or grab at a door. That too was
triumph of a sort
He rinsed out his mouth with water from the pitcher
there, though he knew it would be a cesspit come morn-
ing anyhow. Then he undressed and flopped limply onto
one of the beds. He pulled off his sandals, hoping Van
wouldn't choose the same bed and squash him when—
if—the oudander made it upstairs.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the Fox sat bolt
upright in bed, eyes staring, heart pounding. His head
was pounding, too, but he ignored it. The horror of the
dream that had slammed him out of sodden slumber
made such merely fleshly concerns as hangovers mean-
ingless by comparison.
Worst of all, he couldn't remember what he'd seen—
or perhaps the darkness of the dream had been so abso-
lute that even imaginary vision failed. Something dread-
ful was brewing somewhere in the dark.
The room in which he lay was dark, too, but not so dark
that he could not see. light from all the moons save Elleb
streamed in through the window, painting crisscrossing
shadows on the floor. In the other bed, Van snored like a
bronze saw slowly cutting its way through limestone.
Just as Gerin tried to convince himself the dream, no
matter how terrifying, had been only a dream and to go
back to sleep, the oudander stirred and moaned. That
he could move at all amazed the Fox; the room reeked
of stale ale.

140
Harry Turtledove
Van shouted—not in Elabonian, not in words at all,
but like an animal bawling out a desperate alarm. One
of his big hands groped for and found a knife. He sprang
to his feet, naked and ferocious, his eyes utterly devoid
of reason.
"It's all right," Gerin said urgently, before that mad
gaze could light on him and decide he was the cause of
whatever night terror Van faced. "Its only a dream. Lie
down and sleep some more."
"A dream?" Van said in a strange, uncertain voice.
"No, it couldn't be." He seemed to shrink a little as con-
sciousness came back. "By the gods, maybe it was at
that. I can hardly believe it"
He set the knife back on the floor, sat down at the
edge of the bed with a massive forearm across his eyes.
Gerin understood that; now he noticed his own throb-
bing head, and Van's had to be ten times worse. The
outlander stood again, this time to use the chamber pot
Gerin also understood that "Pass it to me when you're
done," he said
"I thought I was lost in a black pit," Van said
wonderingly. 'Things were looking at me, I know they
were, but I couldn't see even the shine of their eyes—
too dark. How could I fight them if I couldn't see them?'
He shuddered, then groaned "I wish my head would
fall off. Even the moonlight hurts my eyes."
"I had a dark dream, too, though I don't remember as
much of it as you do," Gerin said. Analytical even hung
over, he went on, "Odd, that You've drunk much more
than I have, yet you recall more. I wonder why."
"Captain, I don't give a—" Van's reply was punctu-
ated by a frightened wail that came in through the win-
dow with the overbrilliant moonlight The Fox recog-
nized the innkeeper's voice, even distorted by fear.
More than his headache, more than his own bad

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141
dream, that fear kept him from falling back to sleep, Van
said nothing but, by the way he tossed and fidgeted, he
lay a long time wakeful, too.
Breakfast the next morning was not a happy time.
Gerin spooned up barley porridge with his eyes screwed
into slits against the daylight Van drew up a bucket of
water from the well outside the inn and poured it over
his head He came back in dripping and snorting, but
turned aside with a shudder from the bowl of porridge
the innkeeper offered him.
The innkeeper did his best to seem jolly, but his smiles,
although they stretched his mouth wide, failed to reach
his eyes. little by little, he stopped pretending, and grew
almost as somber as his suffering guests. T have some
word of the Sibyl, good my sirs," he said
'Tell us," Gerin urged "Youll give me something to
think about besides my poor decrepit carcass." Van did
not seem capable of coherent speech, but nodded—cau-
tiously, as if afraid the least motion might make his head
fall off.
The innkeeper said, "I hear she still lies asleep in the
bed where the priests put her, now and again thrashing
and crying out, as if she has evil dreams."
"I wonder if hers are the same as mine and Van's,"
Gerin said: "darkness and unseen things moving through
it"
"I saw—or rather, did not see—the same last night"
The innkeeper gave a theatrical shiver. His eyes flicked
over to Dyaus' altar by the fireplace. The king of the
gods might hold the ghosts at bay, but seemed powerless
against these more frightening seemings that came in
the night
Van made a hoarse croaking noise, then said, "I wonder
what Aragis dreamt last night" He didn't quite whisper,

142
Harry Turtledove
but used only a small piece of his big voice: more would
have hurt him.
"Are you sure you wont eat something?" Gerin asked
him. 'We'll want to do a lot of traveling today, to get
beyond the wood and also past that peasant village where
they hunted us in the night"
"I'm sure," Van said, quietly stilL "You'd make a fine
mother hen, Captain, but if I put aught in my belly now,
we'd just lose time stopping the wagon so I could go off
into the woods and unspit"
"You know best," the Fox said. The porridge was bland
as could be, but still sat uncertainly in his own stomach,
and lurched when he stood up. "I do think we ought to go
upstairs and don our armor, though. However much we
hurt, we're liable to have some handwork ahead of us."
"Aye, you're right," Van answered. "I'd be happier to
sit here a while—say, a year or two—till I feel I might
live, or even want to, but you're right" With careful stride,
he made his way to the stairs and up them. Gerin fol-
lowed.
The rasps and clangs of metal touching metal made
the Fox's head hurt and, by Van's mutters, did worse to
him. "Don't know how I'm supposed to fight, even if I
have to," Gerin said. "If I could drive somebody away by
puking on him, I might manage that, but I'm not good
for much more."
"I feel the same way," Van said, "but no matter how
sick I am, if it's a choice between fighting and dying, I
expect I'll do the best job of fighting I can."
"Can't argue with that," Gerin said. "If you think I'll
be looking for a fight today, though, you're daft"
"Nor I, and I'm a sight fonder of them than you are,"
Van said. 'The thing of it is, a fight may be looking for
you."
"Why do you think I'm doing this?" Gerin shrugged

Prince of the North	143
his shoulders a couple of times to fit his corselet as com-
fortably as he could, then jammed his bronze pot of a
helm over his head. Sighing, he said, "Lets go."
"Just a moment." Van adjusted the cheekpieces to his
own fancy helm, then nodded. By his pained expression,
that hurt, too. Anticipating still more future pain, he said,
"And we'll have to listen to the cursed wagon wheels
squeaking all the rest of the day, too."
Gerin hadn't thought of that. When he did, his stom-
ach churned anew 'We've got to do something about
that," he declared.
"Stay here a while longer?" Van suggested
'We've stayed too long already, thanks to you and your
carouse. Curse me if I want to spend another useless
day here because you drank the ale jar dry—and I helped,
Iadmitit,"theFoxaddedhastily. He plucked at his beard.
Thinking straight and clear through a pounding head-
ache was anything but easy, but after a few seconds he
snapped his fingers. "I have it! I'll beg a pot of goose
grease or chicken fat or whatever he has from the inn-
keeper. It won't be perfect, the gods know, but it should
cut the noise to something we have hope of standing."
Van managed the first smile he'd risked since he woke
up. He made as if to slap Gerin on the back, but thought
better of it; perhaps he imagined how he would have
felt had someone bestowed a similar compliment on him
in his present delicate condition. "By the gods, Captain,
it can't hurt," he exclaimed "I was thinking we'd have to
suffer the whole day long, and no help for it."
"No point in suffering if you don't have to," Gerin
said "And I can't think of a better way to use wits than to
keep from suffering."
The innkeeper produced a pot of chicken fat without
demur, though he said, 'There's a cure for a long night I
never ran across before."

144
Harry Turtledove
"Aye, that's just what it is, but not the way you mean."
The Fox explained why he wanted the fat The innkeeper
looked bemused, but nodded
Gerin crawled under the wagon and applied a good
coat of grease to both axles. When he came out and stood
up again, Van said, "We'll draw flies."
"No doubt," Gerin said. "After a while, it'll go bad
and start to stink, too, and somebody will have to scrub
it off. For today, it'll be quieter. Wouldn't you say that's
worth it?"
"Oh, aye, you get no quarrel from me there." Van's
laugh was but a faint echo of his usual booming chortle,
but it served 'Thing of it is, I'm usually the one with no
thought but for today and you're always fretting about
tomorrow or the year after or when your grandson's an
old graybeard. Odd to find us flip-flopped so."
The Fox considered that, then set it aside. 'Too much
like philosophy for early in the day, especially after too
much ale the night before. Shall we be off?'
"Might as well," Van said "Can I humbly beg you to
take the reins for the first part of the go? I don't think
you hurt yourself as bad as I did"
"Fair enough." Gerin clambered onto the seat at the
front of the wagon. The reins slid across the calluses on
his palms. Van got up beside him, moving with an old
man's caution.
"The lord Biton bless the both of you, good my sirs,"
the groom said.
Gerin flicked the reins. The horses leaned forward
against their harness. The wagon rolled ahead. It still
rattled and creaked and jounced, but didn't squeak nearly
as much as it had. Van looked wanly happy. 'That's first
rate," he said "With even a bit o' luck, I'll feel like living
by noon or so."
"About what I was hoping for myself," Gerin said He

Prince of the North	145
drove out of the stable yard and around to the front of
the inn. The wagon wasn't as quiet as all that, but it was
enough quieter than it had been to satisfy him.
The innkeeper stood by the entiyway and bowed him-
self double as the wagon passed him. 'The lord Biton
bless the both of you," he said, as the groom had. "May
you come again to Ikos before long, and may you recall
my humble establishment with favor when you do."
'They didn't used to act like that before the Empire
blocked die last pass through the Kirs," Gerin murmured.
'Then they had guests up to the ceiling and sleeping in
the horses' stables, and they hardly knew or cared
whether they saw anyone in particular again."
"Reminds me of a story, Captain, indeed it does," Van
said, a sure sign he was feeling better. "Have I told you
how they get the monkeys to pick pepper?"
"No, I don't think I've heard that one," Gerin
answered. "How do they—"
He got no further, for the horses gave a snort of alarm
and reared in terror. Tiying to fight them under control,
Gerin thought their unexpected motion the reason the
wagon swayed beneath his fundament as if suddenly
transformed to a boat bobbing on a choppy sea. Then
Van shouted "Earthquake!" and he realized the whole
world was trembling.
He'd felt earthquakes once or twice before, years ago.
The ground had twitched, then subsided almost before
fear could seize him. This quake was nothing like those.
The shaking went on and on; it seemed to last forever.
Through the roar of the ground and the creaking of the
buildings in the town of Ikos, he heard cries of fear. After
a moment, he realized the loudest of them was his own.
A couple of inns andhouses didmore than creak; they
collapsed into piles of rubble. And when the Fox looked
down the street toward the temple of Biton, he saw with

146
Harry Turtledove
horror that the gleaming marble fane was also down,
along with great stretches of the wall that protected the
holy precinct
When the earth finally relented and stood still, Gerin
realized his hangover was gone; terror had burned it out
of him. He stared at Van, who stared back, his usually
ruddy face fishbelly white. "Captain, that was a very bad
one," the outlander said Tve felt quakes a time or two
here and there, but never any to compare with that"
"Nor I," Gerin said The ground shook again, just
enough to send his heart leaping into his mouth. He
scrambled down from the wagon and ran toward the
nearest fallen building, from which came pain-filled
shouts. Van ran right beside him. Together they pulled
away timbers and plaster until they could haul out a fel-
low who, but for a couple of cuts and a mashed finger,
had taken miraculously little hurt
"All the gods bless you," the man said, coughing. "My
wife's in there somewhere." Careless of his own injuries,
he began clawing at the wreckage himself. Gerin and
Van worked with him. Men and women also came run-
ning from buildings that had stayed upright.
Then someone screamed, "Fire!" Flames born in the
hearth or on Dyaus' altar or of some flickering lamp were
loose and growing. Black smoke, thin at first but all too
quickly thicker, boiled up to the sky—and not just from
tie downfallen inn where the Fox labored. Every
wrecked building was soon ablaze. The shrieks of those
trapped under beams rose to a new and dreadful pitch.
Along with everyone else, Gerin fought the fires as
best he could, but there were not enough buckets, not
enough water. Flames grew, spread, began to devour
buildings the earthquake had not tumbled
"Hopeless," Van said, coughing and choking against
the smoke that now streaked his face with soot "We don't

Prince of the North	147
get away, were going to cook, too, and the wagon and
horses with us."
Gerin hated to retreat, but knew his friend was right
He looked again toward Biton s overthrown temple. "By
the gods," he said softiy, and then shivered when, as if
the gods were listening, the ground shook again. "I won-
der if the Sibyl foresaw this when she prophesied yester-
day"
'There's a thought" Van's face lit up. "And here's
another: with the wall down and the temple guards likely
either squashed or scared to death, what's to keep us
from scooping a wagonload of gold out of the holy pre-
cinct?"
"You're braver than I am if you want to chance Biton's
curse," Gerin said. "Remember the corpses we've seen
of those who tried stealing from the temenos?" By Van's
expression, first sulky and then thoughtful, he hadn't
remembered, butdidnow. Gerin wenton, "Butlet's head
over there anyhow. We ought to see if we can do any-
thing for the poor Sibyl. If I know those greedy priests,
they'll be so worried over the temple and their treasures
that they're liable to forget her—and she may not even
be aware to remind them she's alive." The thought of
her lying in the rubble, trapped and unconscious and
perhaps forgotten, raised fresh horror in him: he could
not imagine a lonelier way to die.
"Right you are, Captain." Now Van got into the wagon
and took the reins without hesitation; maybe the shock
of the earthquake had made him forget his morning-
after pains, too. Gerin scrambled up beside him. The
horses snorted, both in fear and from the billowing
smoke. The Fox counted himself lucky that they hadn't
bolted when the fires started. He was anything but sorry
to get away from the flames himself.
Along with so much else, the gold-and-ivory statues

148	Harry Turtledove
of Ros and Oren had fallen in the earthquake—fallen
and shattered into the pieces from which they were
made. Oren s head, its features plump and unmemorable
but decked with a crown heavy with gold and sparkling
with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, had bounced or
flown out beyond the overthrown marble wall that
delimited Bitons precinct
Gerin and Van looked at each other, the same thought
in both their minds. So much gold—Whispering a prayer
of propitiation to Biton, the Fox leaped down from the
wagon. He seized the image of the dead Emperors head,
ready to cast it aside at the first sign of the curse striking
home (and devoutly hoping that would be soon enough).
Grunting at the weight of gold, he picked up the head
and crown and chucked them into the back of the wagon.
"We won t need to fret about money for a bit," Van
said, beaming, and even the abstemious Fox could only
nod
The quake struck so early in the day that hardly any-
one had yet come in hope of hearing the Sibyls pro-
phetic verse. Only one wagon and one chariot had their
horses tethered out in front of the dwelling the Sibyl
used as her own. The cottage still stood, while chunks of
the marble wall around the temple precinct had come
down with gruesome result on die priest who the day
before had tended Gerins team.
Seeing the Sibyls dwelling intact made the Fox hesi-
tate. "Maybe we should just head for home," he said
doubtfully "Those fellows over there will be able to take
care of her without violating ritual" He pointed through
a gap in the wall toward figures running around by the
ruined temple.
Van looked that way, too. His eyes were sharper than
Gerins, perhaps because, unlike the Fox, he spent no
time peering at faded script in crumbling scrolls. He

Prince of the North
149
grabbed the mace off his belt. "Captain, you'd better
look again. Whatever those things are, you don't want
'em tending the Sibyl."
"What are you talking about? They must be priests,
and they—" Gerin's voice broke off as, squinting, he did
take another look. Hesawpriests,allright,buttheywere
down on the ground, not one of them moving. Over
them bent pallid shapes hard to make out against the
White marble of the temple. They didn't quite move or
look like men, though.
One of them raised his head and saw the wagon. The
bottom of his—its?—face was smeared with red. Gerin
didn't think the thing was hurt The blood around its
mouth likelier said it had been—feeding.
As Van had seized the mace, so Gerin grabbed for his
bow. The pale, bloodstained figure loped toward the
wagon. The Fox remained unsure whether it was man
or beast. It carried itself upright on two legs, but its fore-
head sloped almost straight back above the eyes (which
were small and themselves blood-red) and its mouth was
full of teeth more formidable than anything Gerin had
seen this side of a longtooth.
Ice ran down his back. 'The quake must have knocked
down the underground walls, the warded ones," he
exclaimed. "And these are the things the wards held
back."
"Belike you're right," Van answered. "But whether you
are or not, don't you think you'd better shoot that one
before it gets close enough to take a bite out of us? What-
ever it was eating before doesn't seem to have filled it"
Staring at the pallid monster, Gerin had almost for-
gotten he was holding his bow. He pulled an arrow from
his quiver, nocked, drew, and let fly in one smooth motion.
The monster made no effort to duck or dodge; it might
never have seen a bow before. The arrow took it in the

150	Harry Turtledove
middle of its broad chest It clawed at the shaft, scream-
ing hoarsely, then crumpled to the ground
The scream drew the attention of a couple of other
monsters. How many of them had lived undergroundP
Gerin wondered. And for how longP Whatever the
answer was, the things were above ground now, and
looked to be out for revenge against the men who had
forced subterranean life on them for so long—and on
any other men they could sink their teeth into.
Before the monsters rushed the wagon, a charge by a
squad of temple guards distracted them. They attacked
the guardsmen with the ferocity of wild beasts. The
guards had spears and swords and armor of bronze and
leather. The monsters looked to be faster and stronger
than anyone merely human.
Gerin got but a brief glimpse of the fight, which looked
to be an even match. "If we mix ourselves up in that, all
we'll do is get killed," he said to Van. "More of those cursed
things keep swarming up out of what's left of the temple."
'Well then, let's snatch the Sibyl and get out of here
before they find her and figure she'd make a tasty snack,"
Van said. In other circumstances, that would have
seemed rough humor. Remembering the blood round
the mouth of the monster he'd shot, Gerin thought the
outlander was just stating a probability.
He jumped down from the wagon when Van reined
in by the Sibyl's dwelling. The door stood ajar, perhaps
knocked open by the earthquake. Gerin ran inside.
Had the quake not thrown pots from shelves and lamps
from tables, the cottage would have reminded the Fox
of one inhabited by a prosperous peasant. Tapestries
enlivened whitewashed Walls; the furniture looked bet-
ter made than most. That hadn't kept stools from falling
down, though, or the clay oven in one corner of the cot-
tage from cracking.

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151
The Sibyllayonherbed, unconscious still, in the midst
of chaos. As Gerin stepped toward her, the ground
trembled beneath his feet once more. That was almost
enough to send him fleeing out of the cottage in terror
of offending Biton. But, he reasoned, earthquakes were
not in the province of the farseeing god. Had he angered
Biton, the deity would have shown his displeasure more
direcdy.
He stooped beside the Sibyl, who still wore the thin
linen dress she'd had on in the chamber beneath the
ruined temple. He wondered if his touch would bring
her to herself. She stirred and muttered as he lifted her,
but her eyes stayed closed He hurried back out through
the doorway
"Good thing the monsters are still battling in there,"
Van said when he returned. "A wench in your arms is
pleasant even if youre not having her, but worthless to
fight with."
"Scoffer," Gerin said But the rising noise of combat
inside the temple precinct warned him he had no time
to swap banter with Van. As gendy as he could, he set
the Sibyl in the back of the wagon. Again she muttered
but did not wake. He took his seat beside Van, snatched
up his bow and quiver once more. Nocking another
arrow, he said, "Let's get out of here."
"Right you are." Van twitched the reins. The horses
bolted ahead, glad to have an oudet for their fear. As the
wagon rattled past a gap in the fence, a monster came
through. Gerin shot it It fell with a roar. Van pushed the
horses up to a gallop. Skirting the burning town of Ikos,
the wagon plunged into the old woods.

V
Not long after noon, the Sibyl came back to herself.
By then, the travelers were more than halfway through
the strange forest that guarded die road to Ikos. Gerin
had expected trees fallen across that road, perhaps other
signs of upheaval from the earthquake. He discovered
none. As far as the woods were concerned, the temblor
might never have happened
"Good," Van said when he remarked on that "Maybe
the trees'll swallow up those creatures, too, when they
come swarming out of Ikos."
'Wouldn't that be lovely?' Gerin said "Likely too
much to hope for, though, because—" He broke off as
the wagon shifted under his fundament It wasn't, as
he'd first feared, yet another quake: rather, he found
when he looked back into the bed of the wagon, the
Sibyl had gone from lying to sitting up. He nodded to
her. "Lady I bid you good day."
Her eyes showed nothing but confusion. "You are the
pair for whom I prophesied just now," she said, her voice
also halting. Though it suited her appearance well, hear-
ing it once more gave Gerin a small shock: after Biton
had spoken through her, he'd almost forgotten she had
a voice of her own.
"Not just now,'" he said, wondering how he could let
her knowwhat had happened while she lay unconscious.
"That was yesterday; you've been in Bitons trance for
more than a whole day."
"Impossible. It never takes me so," she said angrily.
But a moment later, she looked confused again. "Yet if
152

Prince of the North
153
you do not speak truth, why am I on the point of burst-
ing? Halt a moment, I pray you." Van reined in. The
horses, glad of a breather, began nibbling grass by the
side of the road
Gerin got down and went around to the back of the
wagon. He held out a hand "Here, lady, 111 help you
down so you can ease yourself."
She recoiled as if he'd proposed helping her down
so he could ravish her. "Are you mad?" she demanded
in a voice like winter. "I may have no contact whatever
with any entire man. Were I to do so, I'd be Sibyl no
longer."
The Fox sucked in a long breath. She hadn't figured
out how she'd got into the wagon. He could hardly blame
her, but it didn't make what he had to say come any
easier: "Lady, I fear that to save your life I had to touch
you. The gods know I'm sorry for it, but I saw no other
way." He repeated the oracular verse she had given him,
and explained the morning's horrors.
The more he talked, the paler the Sibyl grew. "Lies,"
she whispered. "It must be lies. You've ruined me, and
now you seek to twist my own words against me and
make me believe you did it for my own good?" Her head
whipped around like a hunted animal s; her eyes lit on
the gold and ivory head of Oren the Builder. Gerin had
thought she was already white as could be, but discov-
ered he was wrong. "You—took this?" she demanded
"And the lord Biton did not strike you dead?'
A flip answer came to Gerin's mind; he stifled it
before it passed his lips. "Lady, he did not. When I
took it, it lay outside the bounds of the holy precinct.
As I said, the earthquake knocked everything into con-
fusion. The temple itself no longer stands. What hap-
pened to the chamber where you prophesied I could
not say, but the quake must have knocked down the

154
Harry Turtledove
warded walls that kept those monsters from coming
to the surface."
Van turned and said, "For all you know, Fox, it might
have been the other way round Remember the bits of
mortar we saw at the base of those walls when Kinifor
led us down to the lady? The things might have been
trying for years to breach the magic that held 'em in
check, and when they finally did it, that could ve made
the earth shake."
"You're right; it could have happened so," Gerin
agreed "But whichever way it was doesn't matter." He
gave his attention back to the Sibyl. "Lady—have you a
name, by the way?"
She'd been listening to him and Van talk back and
forth as if they were madmen whose madnesses by
chance coincided. She snapped back to herself when
the Fox asked her that question, but needed a moment
to find an answer for it. At last she said, "I was
called... Selatre. They took the name from me when I
became Biton's mouth, but I recall it was mine." The
bitter curve of her lips was anything but a smile. "I may
as well wear it again, for thanks to you I'll serve the god
no more. If all you say is true, betteryou shouldhave left
me to die there."
"Lady... Selatre ... I pray I'm wrong, but I don't
think I am, when I tell you the only things left alive in
Ikos by sunset tonight will be the ones that came out
from under Biton's fane. How deep and wide the caves
run, how many monsters there are—I know none of
that. But I couldn't leave you in your cottage to perish
from their teeth and claws, not when the question I
put to you was what made you swoon away," Gerin
said
Selatre said, "If you think saving me was a favor, you're
wrong. Lost, polluted... how can I hope to make my

Prince of the North
155
way in the world again, now that you've taken away my
reason for being?"
"You made your way in it before you were Sibyl," Van
said roughly "And plenty of people go on living who've
taken worse hurts than you. Go into the woods, water
die ferns, and come back and we'll feed you bread and
sausage and ale. Things always look cheerier with food
in your belly, and you must be hungry as a longtooth
after sleeping the day around"
Selatre sniffed at the homely advice, but, perhaps
because nothing better occurred to her, nodded after a
moment Gerin started to offer his hand again, but the
first motion made her shrink back with such dismay that
he stopped before it was well begun. Instead, he osten-
tatiously stepped away from the wagon and let her clam-
ber down by herseE
"What do we do if she tries to run to Ikos on her
own?" he whispered to Van when she walked in among
the bushes by the side of the road
"If the jade's that foolish, let her go," the oudander
answered. "Me, I don't think she is."
Gerin got out the food Van had promised the Sibyl.
She took longer to come back than he'd expected, and
he wondered if she had slipped away The idea of pursu-
ing her through the uncanny forest was far from appeal-
ing. But just when he was beginning to worry he might
have to, she returned, her face unreadable. He pointed
to the meal he'd fixed from the travel supplies, but did
not try to give it to her. If she didn't want to be touched,
that was her affair.
She did manage a quiet word of thanks, then fell on
bread and sausage and onions and ale as if she'd gone
without food for ten or twenty days, not just one. She
was still eating when, faindy, from far down the road to
the west came a snarling roar that wasn't bear or

156
Harry Turtledove
longtooth or wolf or any beast Gerin had heard before.
The hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickled
up even so.
Van said, 'That's one of the things from the caves, if
you ask me."
Selatre put down the piece of bread she'd been gnaw-
ing. "A terrible sound," she said, shuddering. T've heard
it in my nightmares. Now, perhaps, I begin to believe
you."
The innkeeper had said she seemed to be having evil
dreams. That was this morning, Gerin thought, amazed.
It seemed an age ago, in a different world. Given all that
had changed between then and now, maybe it was.
The Fox said, 'We've seen monsters in our dreams,
too—and seen them in the flesh today, in the temple
compound."
"And if we don't want to see more of them in the
flesh, I think we'd better get rolling again," Van said. "If
I had to guess, I'd say they're likely not after us in par-
ticular right now, just out exploring, finding out what
aboveground is like after being down below so long. But
if they come on us, I don't think they'd stop with a cheery
good day, if you take my meaning."
Gerin stood aside to let Selatre scramble into the
wagon by herself. Getting her back to Fox Keep was
going to be awkward if she thought any accidental bump
the equivalent of a violation. Of course, if that was how
she felt, she was already convinced he'd violated her,
and he couldn't do anything about it He chewed on the
inside of his lower lip. No time to worry about any of
that now Once they were safe away from Ikos would be
soon enough.
He said to Van, "I'll drive for a while now. You can
rest your head."
"It's all right," the outlander answered. "Since the

Prince of the North
157
ground started shaking, I haven't hardly noticed my poor
aching noodle."
'The same with me," Gerin said. "Its not the cure for
a long night of drinking I'd choose, though."
"Nor I, Fox, nor I." Van started to laugh, but broke
off: another one of those snarling roars cut through the
stillness of the woods. The outlander yanked on the reins,
then reached around behind him into the wagon for the
whip. He cracked it just above the horses' backs. Gerin
thought that was laying it on thick; the animals seemed
alarmed enough to run hard just from the fierce sound
of the roar.
Selatre said, "Have a care, please. You almost touched
me when you were groping back here." She sat huddled
in a far corner, as if certain Van had intended to grope
her.
"Lady—Selatre—we're not out to do you harm or
throw you down in the roadway and have you or any-
thing of the sort." Hie outlander sounded as if he were
holding on to his patience with both hands. "For one
thing, Gerin and I both prefer willing wenches. For
another, or if you think I'm lying about the first, we could
have had our way with you four times each before you
woke up."
"I know that," she answered quietly "Any touch,
though, pollutes me, not just a lewd one. Lord Gerin, I
grant you meant well when you plucked me from my
cottage, but I'd sooner you had not done it To lose that
sense of union with the god, to know he will never speak
through me again because I am his pure vessel no
more... life stretches long and empty ahead of me."
The Fox exhaled through his nose in impatient anger.
"Lord Biton would have spoken through you no more
whether we came to your dwelling or not If we hadn't,
you'd have been monster fodder before another hour

158
Harry Turtledove
went by. And that, if you ask me, is a short and empty
life, save perhaps when speaking about a monster s belly,
which would have been quite comfortably full/'
He twisted around to see how Selatre took that He
didn't want to flay her with words; after all, she was sud-
denly cast into a situation she'd never imagined and for
which she'd never prepared. If he'd hit too hard, he was
ready to backtrack and apologize.
But, to his surprise, she returned the ghost of a smile.
"Next to being devoured, I suppose rescue may be a
better choice. Very well; I do not blame you for it—
much."
"Lady, I thank you." He could have—given his nature,
he easily could have—freighted that with enough sar-
casm to make it sting. This time, though, it came out
sincere. The Sibyl—no, the ex-Sibyl—was trying to adjust;
he could at least do the same.
Shadows were lengthening when they came out of
the haunted forest that surrounded Ikos and into woods
like those in the rest of the northlands. The transition
point was easy to spot as soon as they returned to the
normal woods, the earthquake showed its effects again,
not least with a couple of toppled trees stretched across
the roadway.
Moving those trunks would have taken half a village
of serfs. Van drove around them through the under-
growth. As he did so, he said, 'Wouldn't have wanted to
try this back a ways. You go in there, who knows if you
come out again?"
"I like that," Selatre said. "You were willing enough to
send me off into those woods when I needed to make
water. Did you hope you would be rid of me?'
Van coughed and spluttered "No, lady, nothing like
that at all. Ifl thought of it at all, I thought you were holy
enough to have nothing to fear."

Prince of the North
159
"So I may have been, once," Selatre said, gloom
returning "No more."
They rode on a while in silence after that Eyeing the
sinking sun, Gerin said, "We might do well to look for
that spot after we came through the free peasant village.
They won't know what we're about until we roll past
them early tomorrow morning."
"If they're not all downfallen from the quake," Van
added "Only thing I worry about there, Captain—not
counting the ghosts, for we've litde to give 'em—is mon-
sters on our trail."
'The ghosts will keep them from travding at night..."
Gerin's voice trailed away "I hope," he finished, realiz-
ing he had no way of knowing what—if anything—the
ghosts could do to the horrid creatures from the caves.
"We can't go on traveling all night," Van said "Whether
the ghosts let us or not, we'd ruin the horses, maybe kill
'em. So stopping's still our best plan, and I think you
picked a good place for it."
To the Fox's admiration, Van recognized the litde side
road down which they'd turned a few nights before.
Gerin recognized it, too—once he was on it But the
landmarks looked different coming west from the way
they had going east, and he might well have driven right
past the junction.
The oudander got busy making a fire. Bow in hand,
Gerin walked through the woods in search of a blood
offering for the ghosts. When the light began to fade
alarmingly before he'd found either bird or beast, he
began turning over stones and pieces of bark. He grabbed
a fat, long-tailed lizard before it could scuttle back into
hiding. It twisted in his grasp and bit his finger hard
enough to draw blood from him, but he held on and,
swearing, carried the creature to camp.
Van gave it a dubious look. 'That's die best you could

160
Harry Turtledove
come up with?" he asked, and made as if to get up him-
self. But the sun was down by then, and the ghosts
beginning to haver. Scowling against their cries, he said,
"Cut its throat, quick. It has to be better than nothing."
Gerin made the sacrifice, then flipped away the lizard s
writhing body. He peered down into the trench he'd
dug. The blood seemed hardly enough to dampen the
dirt at the bottom. He wondered if he should have kept
hunting till he found a creature with more to give the
ghosts.
But in spite of the paltry offering, the night spirits
seemed no more vicious than they had at other times
when he'd camped in the open. Mildly puzzled but not
inclined to complain at his good fortune, he pulled a
sack of supplies from the back of the wagon. Selatre
accepted the small loaf of hard-baked bread he held out
to her, but was careful not to let her fingers brush his
when she took it
He forgot to be irked, exclaiming, "Lady, I wonder if
the holiness you bring from Ikos—the last holiness left:
of Ikos, I fear—isn't helping hold the ghosts at arm's
length."
"I am holy no more," she answered bleakly.
"You're the Sibyl no more, true," Gerin said, "but I
wonder if the other is so. You didn't abandon Biton; he
chose to leave you. How could that be your fault?"
She looked startled, and did not answer. She looked
startled again when Gerin and Van drew straws to see
who would take first watch and who second, but shook
her head at her own foolishness. "Of course that's need-
ful here," she said, half to herself "Who would do it for
you?"
<cWe didn't bring any temple guards along, that's cer-
tain," Van said. He got up and paced about; Gerin had
won his choice, and decided to sleep through the first

Prince of the North
161
watch. The outlander went on, "Here, lady, you can take
my blanket till I wake up the Fox; then I expect he'll let
you have his."
"You're generous, both of you," the Sibyl said, watch-
ing Gerin nod. Even so, she made sure she placed her-
self on the far side of the fire from him before she
wrapped the checked square of wool around her and
settled down for the night
Van needed to shake and prod and practically pum-
mel Gerin before he'd wake. The outlander pointed over
across the embers to Selatre, With a grin, he said, "She's
human enough—she snores." The grin disappeared.
"Now how am I supposed to wake her and get my blan-
ket back without making her think I've got rape on my
mind? That's what she thinks of touching, plain enough."
"You can have mine if you like," Gerin said
'Too small for my bulk; you know mine's bigger than
the usual," Van said "I'll take it if I have to, but I'd really
like to roll up in my own."
Gerin did some thinking. With his wits midnight-slow,
it wasn't easy. At last, though, he said, "Here, I have it"
He rose creakily and poked around under a tree until he
found a long, dry stidk. Then he went over to the Sibyl
and tapped her with it until she jerked awake and sat up.
"How dare you lay hands on—" she began. Then she
realized Gerin hadn't laid hands on her. Faint firelight
and the beams of all the moons but Elleb (which hadn't
yet risen) showed her confusion. "I see," she said at last,
inclining her head to Gerin. "Your friend wants his blan-
ket back, not so? And you found a way to let me know
without touching me. I wonder if I would have done as
well." She unwrapped herself and stood "Here you are,
Van of the Strong Arm."
As Van came to strip off his armor and claim the blan-
ket, Selatre stepped back to make sure they didn't bump

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even by accident She looked away till he was settled.
Then, instead of taking Germ's blanket at once, she said,
"Let me walk off into the woods for a moment first"
She didn't go far because of the ghosts (whose wails
seemed to Gerin to get worse while she was away), and
came back as fast as she'd promised, but Van was snor-
ing by the time she returned He'd said Selatre snored,
too, but the Fox doubted she came anywhere close to
the thunderous buzz he produced.
The former Sibyl wrapped herself in Gerin's blanket
and wiggled around on the ground, trying to find a com-
fortable position. She kept squirming for some time,
while Gerin walked back and forth waking up. Finally
Selatre said, "I can't sleep right now."
"Nothing too out-of-the-way about that, I suppose,
not when you lay in your bed through the day and the
night and into the next day again," Gerin said.
"I can still hardly believe that" Selatre looked up into
the sky. After a moment, Gerin realized she was study-
ing the moons. When she spoke again, her voice held
wonder: "Tiwaz is closer to Math than he should be, and
has sped farther past golden Nothos. Whatyou say there
must be so, which argues for the truth of the rest of your
tale."
"Lady, I told you no lies, nor did Van." The Fox was
nettled; here he'd risked his life to save her, and she still
wondered if he was nothing more than a kidnapper?
That irritation came out in the sneer with which he said,
"I trust you don't find yourself polluted by mere talk
with a man?"
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "By no means,"
she answered tonelessly. "However—" She turned her
back on him and started to wrap his blanket around her
once more.
"I'm sorry," he said, scraping a shallow trench in the

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163
ground with the hobnailed sole of his sandal. T shouldn't
have said that Talk all you care to; I'll listen."
He wondered if she'd pay any attention to him; he
would not have blamed her for ignoring him after that
gibe. But, slowly, she turned back to him, eyeing him
with the same grave attention she'd given the moon not
long before. "You will forgive me when I say that (know-
ing litde of men in general and barons in particular) you
strike me as unusual?" she asked.
His laugh held little mirth. "Since everyone in the
northlands says as much, why should you be any differ-
ent?"
"I meant no insult," Selatre said. 'The word of you
that came to Ikos after Biton laid his hand on me and
made me Sibyl held no reproach: indeed, you were on
the whole well thought of for trying to hold to the stan-
dards of the Empire of Elabon even after Elabon aban-
doned the northlands."
"Nice to know someone somewhere had some notion
of what I was about," Gerin said. "More than my vassals
do, I think" With a deliberate effort of will, he forced his
thoughts from that gloomy track and changed the sub-
ject "How did it happen that Biton chose you through
whom to speak?"
'Td known he might since I became a woman," Selatre
answered. "For though I was normal in every other way,
my courses never began, which is a sign of the farseeing
one's notice in the villages round his shrine. But Biton's
mouth on earth had served him so long I never dreamt
he might one day call her to himself at last—or that his
eye would fall on me to take her place."
"How did you know you were the one he wanted?"
Gerin asked
"He came to me in a dream." Selatre's eyes went far
away, looking through the Fox rather than at him. Slowly,

164
Harry Turtledove
she continued, 'It was the realest dream, the most life-
like, you can imagine. The god—touched me. I may say
no more. I've never felt anything like that dream for
realness, save, very much the opposite way, with horror
rather than delight, the evil dreams Ive had of late."
Gerin nodded. "Ive had those myself, They're worse
than any Ive known before, that's the truth." He won-
dered if she experienced them even more vividly because
of her intimate contact with Biton and things of the spirit
generally. Not knowing anyway to find an answer to that,
he chose a different question: "Did you go and proclaim
yourself at the temple, then?'
"No. I would have, but the very next day the priests
came to my village instead Biton had sent some of them
dreams of me, and they sought me out"
"Ah," the Fox said Had die dream come to Selatre
alone, he might have thought it sprang from her imagi-
nation, but if the priests also knew the farseeing god had
chosen her to succeed the ancient Sibyl, not much room
was left to doubt Biton had sent it
Endlessly curious, the Fox found a chance to put a
question he'd never expected to be able to ask: "What is
it like when Biton speaks through you? What do you
feel or think or whatever the wordis?"
"It's not—like—anything else I know," Selatre
answered "When the mantic fit takes hold of me, of
course, I know nothing at all; I always have to ask the
priest, if one is there with me, what my response was.
But while the god's power is coming over me, before he
takes me fully—" She didn't go on, not with words, but
she shivered, and her eyes were full of longing. At last
she added, "And now no more, never again. No more."
Her voice wept Suddenly Gerin believed in his belly
that she would sooner have died than be rescued at the
cost of losing that link with Biton; it struck him as almost

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165
like losing a lover or a husband. But with the temple cast
down and monsters loose on the northlands, die link
was surely lost anyhow. Had he not believed that, he
would have drowned in guilt
Maybe Selatre conceded the point, however reluc-
tandy, for she said, "And now that it is to be no more,
what, lord Gerin, do you see life holding for me at Fox
Keep? What would you have me do?"
Gerin had his mouth open to reply before he realized
he had no idea what to say. What place had he, had the
keep, for Bitons former Sibyl? Serving woman, apt to
be pawed by his vassals and his guests? Could she return
to peasant life after time spent with the god? He doubted
it.
And then, just as he was about to confess ignorance,
inspiration struck. "Do you have your letters?" he asked.
"No—Biton spoke to me direct, not through
scribblings," she answered "But I always thought I might
like to learn."
"I'd be glad to teach you," he said. "One of the things
that goes into keeping up the standards of the Empire
of Elabon, as you called it, is having a grasp of time and
place that goes farther than what you—or I, or anyone—
can keep in your head The more people who read and
write, the more who can get that wide knowledge civili-
zation needs. I teach as many folk as I can."
"As may be," Selatre said "But what has it to do with
whatever my life at Casde Fox would become?"
"I have a fair store of books at the keep," Gerin
answered. "Oh, any bibliophile south of the Kirs would
laugh himself silly to hear it called such, but I do have
several dozen scrolls and codices, and I get new ones—
old ones other folk don't care about, most of the time—
now and again. I had in mind for you, if you think it
would suit, to take charge of them, learn whats in them

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Harry Turtledove
and where it can be found, make new copies as they're
needed or if someone asks for such: not likely, I admit,
in the state the northlands are in, but stranger things
have happened What say you?"
She was silent a long time, so long he began to fear
he'd somehow insulted her after all, even if he'd just
intended to find her a place where she could be useful
and one that might keep her from some of what she
would surely see as indignities. Then, at last, she said, T
am not ashamed to tell you I must apologize, lord Gerin."
"Why?" he asked, startled "For what?'
"In spite of everything you've said, you have to
understand I had trouble fully crediting your reasons for
snatching me from Ikos," she answered "Once you had
me back at Fox Keep, who could guess what you might
do with me? In truth, I could guess, and my guesses
frightened me." Her laugh came shaky, but it was a laugh.
"And instead of putting me in your bed, you'd put me in
your library. Do you wonder that I needed a moment
before I found a way to answer you?'
"Oh," Gerin said Tut that way, no." He too took a
while groping for words before he went on, "Lady,
enough women are willing that forcing one who's not
has always struck me as more trouble than it's worth.
But folk who have wits and can use them are precious as
the tin that hardens copper to bronze. I judge you may
be one of that sort If you are, by Dyaus, I'll use you."
"Fair and more than fair," she said, then seemed to
surprise herself with a yawn. "Perhaps I shall sleep more,
after all. My heart is easier than I thought it could be."
"I'm glad of that," Gerin said as she wrapped herself
in his blanket again. She seemed to have forgotten the
creatures still issuing from the cave under Biton's temple.
He remembered, but forbore to remind her. Let her
rest easy while she could

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167
The free peasant village whose men had hunted Gerin
and Van through the night on their way to Ikos was a
sorry place when they and Selatre rode up to it at
midmorning the next day Half the houses had fallen
down in the earthquake; several bodies lay sprawled and
stiff on the grass, awaiting burial.
"If they d built stronger, they'd have come through
better," Van said, unwilling to waste much sympathy on
folk who would have robbed and maybe murdered him.
"Maybe so," Gerin said, "but maybe not, too. Stron-
ger houses might still have fallen—look at Biton's temple.
And if they did, they'd have crushed whoever was inside
them. This way, a lot of people probably managed to
crawl out of the wreckage."
"Mm, something to that, maybe," Van admitted "All
the same, I won't be sorry to see this place behind me."
He started to urge the horses up from a walk to a trot
"No, wait," Gerin said, which made the oudander
grunt in surprise and send him a disbelieving look. He
explained: 'The lady there has but the one linen dress,
which is all very well for prophesying in but not what
you'd want to wear day in and day out I was thinking we
might stop and buy another here, something of sturdy
wool that would do until we got back to Casde Fox."
"Ah. There's sense to you after all. There usually is,
but this time I wondered" Van reined in.
Several of the villagers were in the fields; earthquake
or no, tragedies or no, the endless routine of tillage had
to go on. The women and children and few men who
stayed by the houses swarmed toward the travelers'
wagon. "Noble sirs, spare us such aid in our misfortunes
as you can give," a woman cried Others said the same
thing in different words.
The Fox stared down his nose at them. "By Dyaus,

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Harry Turtledove
you're better disposed to us now than you were when
you came after us in the night to take our armor and
swords."
"And mace," Van added, hefting the viciously spiked
weapon in question. If the peasants had any thoughts of
trying to attack now, the blood-red reflections of the sun
off those bronze spikes did a good job of dissuading them.
Hie older man who'd sold the travelers a hen spoke
for his people: "Lords, we all have to live as best we can,
so I shan't go grizzling out Pm-sorries, though I expect
you wish the five hells would take us. But would you see
us cast down like this?"
"You don't have it as bad as some," Gerin said: "The
temple at Ikos crashed in ruins yesterday." The peasants
wailed, some in genuine horror and distress, others,
Gerin judged, in fear that, with the temple ruined, no
one would ever again use the road from the Elabon Way
to Ikos. That was, he thought, a good guess. He went
on, "In aid of which, I present to you the lady Selatre,
who was till yesterday die Sibyl at Ikos, and whom we
rescued from the wreckage of the place."
The villagers gasped and exclaimed all over again. The
Fox got down from the wagon to let Selatre descend
without—the gods forfend!—touching him; Van shifted
on the seat to make her way out easy. The peasants stared
at her and muttered among themselves. At last one of
them called to her, "Lady, though the temple be fallen,
why did you not stay and wait for its repair?"
Selatre cast down her eyes and did not answer. Gerin
looked for some gentle way to break the news of the
eruption of the monsters from the caves below the fane.
While he was looking, Van, who minced few words, said,
"If she'd stayed, she'd have been eaten. The same is liable
to happen to the lot of you in the next few days, so you'd
better listen to what we have to say."

Prince of the North
169
He and Gerin, as was their way, took turns telling the
tale of what had happened back at Ikos. When they were
through, the fellow from whom they d bought the
chicken, who seemed to be a village spokesman, said, "If
you didn't have the Sibyl with you, I'd reckon you were
makm up the tale to pay us back with a fright for want-
ing to lift the bronze off you."
"And since the lady is here, what do you believe?"
Gerin demanded in no small exasperation. "You'll find
out soon enough whetherwe lie, I can tell you that You've
made a point of getting arms and armor, however you
do it When those creatures come, you'll need them.
Don't leave them sitting wherever you've got them hid-
den; wear the mail, and take the spears and swords out
into the fields with you."
'Take bows, too," Van said 'These monsters aren't
what you'd call clever, from the little we saw of 'em.
They don't know arrows. Every one you kill from long
range is one you won't have to fight up close. I'd say
they're stronger and faster than people, and they have
nasty teeth."
The details the Fox and Van gave were enough to begin
to convince the villagers they weren't just trying to frighten
them. "Maybe we'll do as you say," the old man said after
looking over his comrades.
"Do whatever you bloody well please," Gerin said. "If
you don't care about your necks, don't expect me to do
your worrying for you. All I'd like to do before I get out
of here is buy a proper wool dress for the lady. I'll pay
silver for it, too, though the gods alone know why I'm
dealing justly with folk who aimed to deal unjustly with
»
me.
When he said "silver," three or four women ran into
their houses—those that still stood—and brought out
dresses. None of them seemed to the Fox to stand out

170
Harry Turtledove
from the others; he turned to Selatre. She felt of them
and examined the stitching with the air of a woman who
had done plenty of her own spinning and weaving and
sewing. Gerin remembered she had been a peasant
before she was Sibyl: she knew of such things.
'This one," she said at last
The woman who'd produced it tried to set a price
more or less equal to its weight in silver. Gerin, who
parted with precious metal reluctantly at best, let out a
loud, scornful laugh. "We don't have to buy here," he
reminded her. "Other villages must have seamstresses
whove not been stricken mad." After that, she quickly
got more reasonable; he ended up buying the dress with
only a slight wince.
"Have you also a pair of drawers you might sell?"
Selatre asked.
The woman shook her head "Don't wear 'em but in
winter, to help keep my backside warm." Selatre
shrugged; likely it had been the same where she grew
up, too.
"Do you want to put the dress on here, where you'll
have more in the way of privacy?" Gerin asked her.
Td not thought of that," she said "Thank you for
doing it for me." She ducked into one of the peasant
huts, soon returning wearing the wool dress and with
the linen one under her arm. Some of the aura of the
Sibyl's cave left her with the change of clothes; she
seemed more intimately a part of the world around her,
not so much a waif cast adrift: by circumstance. Maybe
she felt that, too; she sighed as she stepped around Gerin
to stow the linen dress in the wagon. "It's as if I'm put-
ting away part of my past"
'The gods willing, you have long years left ahead of
you," Gerin answered He meant it as no more than a
polite commonplace, but it set him wondering. With

Prince of the North	171
monsters not only loose on the world but emerging from
the ruins of Biton s temple, who could judge die will of
the gods?
Van spoke to the villagers: "Remember what we told
you, now. How sorry you'll be in a few days depends on
whether you listen to us or not You take no notice today,
you won't have the chance to be sony and wish you'd
paid heed."
"And the lot of you, you're just driving away and leav-
ing the trouble behind your wheels," said the older peas-
ant who spoke for the peasants.
He had some reason to sound bitter. Peasants stayed
with their land; a journey to the next village was some-
thing strange and unusual for them. But Gerin said, "If
what I fear is true, you'll just see the creatures before us;
there may well be enough to torment all the northlands."
He did not convince the peasant, who said, "Aye, but
you're a lord; you can hide behind your stone walls." He
gestured to the buildings of the village, some of them
fallen and even those still standing none too strong. "Look
at the forts we have."
To that the Fox found no good reply. Once Selatre
was aboard the wagon, he climbed in, too. Van clucked
to the horses and flicked the reins. The animals snorted
and began to walk. The wagon rolled out of the peasant
village.
When they'd gone a couple of furlongs, Selatre said,
'The man back there was right. He and his have no way
to shelter against the creatures that come forth against
them."
'1 know," Gerin answered sadly. "I have nothing I can
do about it, though. Did I stay to fight, I'd die, and so
would they, and so I'd do them no good, and myself only
harm."
"I saw as much," Selatre said. "Otherwise I'd not have

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Harry Turtledove
waited to speak until the villagers could not hear. But
that's a callous way to have to look at the world"
"Lady, the world's a hard place," Van said "Begging
your pardon, but I'm thinking you've not seen a whole
lot of it Well, now you will, and much of what you see, I
fear, will leave you less than joyful."
Selatre didn't answer. Gerin couldn't tell whether that
was because she disagreed with Van but was too polite
to say so or because she agreed but didn't care to admit
it His opinion of her good sense had risen a notch,
though, for the way she'd held her tongue where speak-
ing out would have embarrassed him.
They returned to the Elabon Way that afternoon.
Selatre exclaimed in pleasure at seeing Bitons mark on
the stone that marked the side road. Then, remember-
ing what had happened back at Ikos, she sobered once
more. Gerin said, "I'm sorry the stone reminded you of
the temple, but I must say you're taking it bravely."
"In part, I suppose, what happened back there still
seems unreal, not least because I wasn't awake to see
and feel it myself," she answered. "And I lived most of
my life in a village not much different from the one we
went through. I know life can be hard"
Van urged the horses onto the stone slabs of the Elabon
Way. The drum of their hoofbeats, so different from the
muffled clopping they'd made on the dirt side road, caught
Selatre's notice. She exclaimed in wonder: "Here's a mar-
vel! Who wouldhave thought you could cover over a road-
way and use it the whole year around? No mud here."
'That's why they made it so," Gerin agreed. "You catch
on fast."
'The work it must have taken," Selatre said. "How far
does it run?"
"From the Kirs up to the Niffet," the Fox said. "In the
old days, they could command and have folk heed." He

Prince of the North
173
clicked his tongue between his teeth, remembering the
troubles he had keeping the stretch of the Elabon Way
under his control even partly and poorly repaired
Van said, "Seems to me, Captain, every time we come
north toward your holding, we re in the midst of trouble.
Last time, we were heading into the teeth of the Trokmoi,
and now we're stormcrows ahead of those—things—-
coming out of Ikos."
"We'd better stay ahead of them, too," Gerin said
"Otherwise we won't make it back to Fox Keep." He
pointed to the horses. "We have to get the best we can
from them without making them break down. Getting
stuck somewhere could prove downright embarrassing,"
"That's one word for it," Van said, "and a politer one
than Fd choose, too."
Gerin had hoped to reach some lordlets castle by
nightfall; all at once, the idea of sleeping behind walls
too high to be easily climbed developed a new and urgent
appeal. But the approach of sunset found the wagon on
the road with no keep in sight, only a peasant village.
The Fox glumly bought a chicken and pushed the horses
forward until the first stirrings of the ghosts reluctantly
made him stop.
"No sooner than we start out tomorrow, we'll ride
past three keeps," he grumbled as Van spun his firebow.
The outlander made fire with his usual skill; Gerin killed
the fowl, drained its blood as an offering, then gutted it
and did a hasty job of plucking before he cut it in pieces
for cooking.
'That's die way of things, Captain, so itis," Van agreed
He turned to Selatre. "Ah, thank you, lady—is that wild
basil you've found?"
"Yes." She set the herb on the ground so he could
pick it up and rub the chicken with it before he put the
meat over the flames.

174	Harry Turtledove
Gerin drew first watch. Selatre curled up in his blan-
ket and tonight fell asleep almost at once. When she began
to snore (something Van had mentioned, but not a noise
the Fox had thought to associate with someone a god
sometimes possessed), the outlander sat up. Gerin jerked
in alarm. "I thought you were gone, too," he said
reproachfully.
"I nearly was, before I thought of something that woke
me right up again," Van said "Mind you, Fox, I'm not
saying a word against aught you've done since the earth-
quake—you'd best understand that But—"
"What is it?' Gerin asked, suspicion in his voice. Any-
one who prefaced his remarks by denying he was going
to criticize always ended up doing just that
"Well, Captain, all well and good we rescued the Sibyl
here, even if she won't let herself be touched by the likes
of us. All well and good—better than well and good—
you've figured out a place for her at Castle Fox if she
picks up her letters as you hope. But we're bringing back
with us a lass who's young and not the least comely I've
seen—and what will sweet Fand say to that?'9
"Oh, father Dyaus." Gerin didn't know in detail the
answer to that question, but contemplating it was plenty
to make his head start aching. "She'll wonder which of
us aims to throw her out of the keep, and she won't think
a finger's breadth past that—which will end up tempt-
ing me to throw her out even if the notion hadn't crossed
my mind till now."
"Just what I was thinking, Captain. Hard to have lust-
ful thoughts about a woman who'd turn blue if you
brushed her hand while you passed her a drumstick, but
will Fand see it the same way? I ask you."
"Not likely." One of the serfs in Besant's village was a
decent potter, not for any fancy ware but for serviceable
cups and jars. Gerin had the feeling he'd be busy soon:

Prince of the North
175
when Fand got upset, crockery started flying. The Fox
scowled at his friend 'Thank you so much. I wasn't going
to have any trouble staying awake through my watch any-
how. Now I wonder if I'll ever sleep again,"
Van started to bark laughter, then abrupdy stopped
"Might not be safe sleeping in the same bedchamber,
and that's a fact, seeing how she stuck a knife into that
Trokme."
"Mm—there is that." Gerin tried to look on the bright
side: "Maybe she'll take it all in good part, or maybe
she'll be so offended when we bring in Selatre that she'll
get up on her hind legs and take the next boat over the
Niffet."
"Since when did Fand ever make anything easy, out-
side the bedroom, I mean?" Van said. He didn't wait for
an answer—which was as well, for Gerin had none to
give him—but lay down again and soon began to snore
loud enough to drown out Selatre.
After a while, what precisely had happened at Ikos
began to blur in Gerin's mind with the tale he told of it at
eveiy peasant village and lord's holding up along the
Elabon Way The disbelief he met was so strong that
sometimes he began to doubt his own memory. Only
when he looked to the former Sibyl at his side was he
reassured he hadn't imagined it all.
'They're a pack of fools," Van said after the travelers
rolled out of the keep of one of Ricolfs vassals.
"Oh, I don't know," Gerin answered resignedly "Had
someone come to Fox Keep with our tale, would you
have believed it?'
'They'll find out soon enough whether we're telling
the truth," Van said "And they'll be sorry they think we
aren't."
The outlander's pique lasted through a midday meal

176
Harry Turtledove
at the holding of Ricolf himself. Van, though, so loved to
spin stories that telling Ricolf about what had happened
at Ikos restored his good humor. Ricolf said, "Aye, we
felt the quake here, and lost crockery in it, but I'd not
looked for word so weighty as what you bring."
Seeing his former father-in-law at least willing to take
him seriously, Gerin said, "You'd be wise to start think-
ing of ways to keep your peasants safe from the mon-
sters as they spread, either by making sure they have a
keep they can flee to or by posting armed men among
em."
"Ah, Fox, you should have been a schoolmaster after
all," Ricolf said, smiling not quite enough to take the
sting from his words. "You're so good at telling everyone
else what he should do; if only you'd try telling yourself
as well."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Gerin said.
Instead of answering directly, Ricolf got up from the
table and walked out of the long hall into the courtyard
Gerin followed him. Ricolf paused by the well. Gerin
started feeling foolish as he walked up to him; if the older
baron wanted to make a pleasantry at his expense, he
should have ignored it But he hadn't, and now he'd lose
more face by turning around and walking away than by
going on.
"What did you mean by that?" he repeated.
"I believe you may not know, so I'll answer straight,"
Ricolf said. "Anything at all can happen to a person once;
the gods delight in keeping us confused so we remem-
ber we're not so wise nor so strong as they are. But when
a man does something twice, that says more about him
than about the way the knucklebones falL"
"You call that a straight answer?" Gerin said. "Dyaus
preserve me from a twisty one, then—or Biton, if you
aim to take the Sibyl's station now that she's let go of it"

Prince of the North
177
'The Sibyl enters in, sure enough," Ricolf answered,
leaning back against the stonework of the well. 'This is
the second time now, Fox, youve snatched away women
you had no proper business taking, Elise being the first"
Gerin exhaled in annoyance. "What was I supposed
to do, Ricolf? Leave the Sibyl to be devoured bythose—
things? If I'd come here with that tale, you'd have found
some other way to connect it to your daughter... and
to blame me for it. It's not as if I'm in love with Selatre."
"As I recall, you weren't in love with Elise, either, not
when you took off with her," Ricolf said "You were just
bearing her to her uncle south of the Kirs. But those
things have a way of changing."
"Ricolf, however our holdings have sometimes rubbed
these past few years, have I ever used you with less than
the courtesy any man owes the father of his wife?" Gerin
asked. He waited for Ricolf to shake his head before he
went on, 'Then within that courtesy, I have to tell you
you've got your head stuck right in the dung heap."
He took a wary step back If Ricolf drew blade on
him, he wanted room in which to fight. He had no great
worries about holding off the older baron, but he wanted
to be able to hold him off in a way which suggested to
Ricolfs warriors that he wasn't trying to murder their
overlord, merely protect himself.
Ricolf stared as if he doubted his own ears. A flush
turned his face as red as his hair had once been (Elise
had had skin like that, the Fox remembered—transpar-
ent as aTrokme's). Then, to Gerin's relief, a snort escaped
his lips and turned into a guffaw. "All right, Fox, you win
that one," Ricolf wheezed, but he added, "For now, any-
how. A year or two down the road, we'll see who laughs
last"
"Oh, go howl," Gerin said
"I'm done, I'm done." Ricolf pacifically held up his

178	Harry Turtledove
hands, "Dyaus forbid I should try to tell you anything
when you already know all thats been written or thought
by every wise man since the gods decided they'd like to
have a ball they could kick around and made the world
to give themselves something interesting to do: besides
swiving one another, I mean, and if that gets stale for a
man after a while, it likely does for the gods, too."
"Not by the tales that are told of them," Gerin
answered, but he let it go at that; Ricolf waxing philo-
sophical struck him as unlikely enough to make a chal-
lenge unwise.
And indeed, Ricolfs next words were utterly mun-
dane: 'With all this hurrah behind you, you'll be all in a
sweat to get back to Fox Keep, so I don't suppose you'll
stay the night You'll be wanting a trussed fowl, then, or
some such, to hold the ghosts out of your head."
"Aye, that would be kind of you," the Fox agreed "Do
you know, though, Selatre seems fco calm them—not
altogether, but partway—by herself. I suppose it's because
she was Biton's intimate for so long."
"Does she?" Ricolfs tone irked Gerin, but not enough
to make him rise to it The older baron shrugged and
said, Til see what sort of bird the kitchen crew can scare
up for you."
Instead of a hen, Ricolfs cooks presented Gerin with
a trussed duck that tried to bite his hand and quacked
furiously when he stowed it in the back of the wagon. It
kept quacking, too. "Can't say as I blame it," Van
remarked as he got onto the wagon's seat himself. "I
wouldn't be happy if anybody did that to me, either."
"Can you tie something around its beak?" Gerin asked
Selatre when the duck went right on making a racket
after the wagon rolled out of Ricolfs keep and headed
up the Elabon Way once more.
"Oh, let it squawk. What else can it do, poor thing?"

Prince of the North
179
Selatre said Since she was in the back of the wagon with
it and had to endure more of the noise than Gerin did,
and since Van had already said more or less the same
tihing, the Fox let her have her way Nonetheless, by the
time the sun neared the western horizon, he looked for-
ward to lopping off the ducks head for more reasons
than just keeping the ghosts happy.
When they stopped to camp for the night, he steered
the wagon off the road to a little pond that had enough
saplings growing close by to screen it away from the casual
glance of anyone on the road by night Van got down
and began gathering dry leaves and twigs for tinder.
Gerin descended, too. He went around to the back of
the wagon and said to Selatre, "Hand me out that pestif-
erous duck, if you please. We'll eat him tonight, but he's
already had his revenge. My head aches."
The ex-Sibyl seemed merely practical, not oracular,
as she picked up the duck by the feet and held it out to
Gerin, warning, "Be careful as you take him. He'll do his
best to bite; he won't just quack."
"I know." Trying to take the duck from Selatre with-
out touching her as he did so didn't make things any
easier for Gerin, but he managed, and didn't bother men-
tioning the extra awkwardness. If that was how Selatre
was going to be, he*d accept it as best he could
Once he had the duck, he set it on the ground He
made himself stand by and not offer Selatre a hand as
she got down from the wagon, wondering all the while
how long he'd need before not offering aid became
automatic for him. Then Selatre stumbled over a root,
exclaimed, and started to fall. Altogether without think-
ing, Gerin jumped forward and steadied her.
'Thank you," she said, but then stopped in confusion
and jumped back from him as if he were hot as molten
bronze.

180
Harry Turtledove
Tm sorry," he said, though apologizing for having kept
her from hurting herself struck him as absurd
She shivered as she looked down at the arm he'd
grabbed, then nodded with the same sort of delibera-
tion Gerin had shown when he kept himself from help-
ing her down a few moments before. "It's all right," she
said. "However much I try to stay away from them,
these things will happen now that I'm so rudely cast
into the world. I may as well do my best to get used to
them."
The Fox bowed. "Lady, on brief acquaintance I
thought you had good sense. Everything you do—this
especially—tells me I was right"
"Does it?" Selatre's laugh came shaky. "If that's so,
why do I feel as if I'm casting away part of myself, not
adding on anything new and better?'
"Change, any change, often feels like a kick in the
teeth," Gerin answered <cWhen the Trokmoi killed my
father and my elder brother and left me lord of Fox
Keep, I thought the weight of the whole worldhadlanded
on my shoulders: I aimed to be a scholar, not a baron.
And then—" He broke off.
'Then what?" Selatre asked
Gerin wished he'd managed to shut up a few words
earlier. But he'd raised the subject, so he felt he had to
answer: 'Then a few years ago my wife ran off with a
horseleech, leaving me to raise our boy as best I could
His kidnapping was what made me come to Ikos."
"Yes, you've spoken of that." Selatre nodded, as if
reminding herself. "But if you hadn't come, by every-
thing else you've told me, the creatures that dwelt in the
caves under Bitons temple would have killed and eaten
me after the earthquake."
"If the earthquake would have happened had I not
come," Gerin said, remembering the words of doom in

Prince of the North
181
the last prophecy Biton had issued through Selatres
mouth.
Van came around the wagon. "I've already got the fire
going," he announced "Are you going to finish off that
duck, or do you aim to stand around jabbering until the
ghosts take awaywhat few wits you have left?" He turned
to Selatre. "Take no notice of him, lady, when he gets
into one of his sulks. Give him a silver lining, as you did,
and he'll make a point of looking for its cloud"
'To the hottest of the five hells with you," Gerin said
Van only laughed The nettle he'd planted under Gerin's
hide stung the worse for bearing a large measure of truth.
The Fox dug a trench in the ground with his dagger,
then drew sword and put an end to the duck's angry
squawking with a stroke that might have parted a man's
head from his shoulders, much less a bird's. He drained
the duck's blood into the trench for the ghosts. Van took
charge of the carcass. "It'll be greasy and gamy, but what
can you do?" he said as he opened the belly to get rid of
the entrails.
"Gamy or no, I like the flavor of duck," Selatre said
"Duck eggs are good, too; they have more taste than
those from hens."
"That's so, but hens are easier to care for—just let
'em scavenge, like pigs," Gerin said. He glanced around
"Even though we were slow with the offering, the ghosts
are still very quiet Lady, I think that's your doing, no
matter that we happened to touch again."
Selatre cocked her head to the side, listening to the
ghosts as they wailed and yammered inside her head
"You may be right," she said after she'd taken their mea-
sure. "I remember them louder and more hateful than
this when I was still living in my village, before Biton
made me his Sibyl. But I am Sibyl no more; the god
himself said as much, and your touch sealed it—" She

182
Harry Turtledove
shook her head in confusion; the dark hair that had spilled
over one shoulder flew out wildly.
Gerin said, "I don't think holiness is something you
can blow out like a lamp. It doesn't so much matter that
I touched you—certainly I didn't do it with lust in my
heart, or aiming to pollute you. What matters is that the
god touched you. My touch is gone in an instant; Biton's
lingers."
Selatre thought about that and slowly nodded, her
finely molded features thoughtful. Watdhing her in the
firelight, Gerin decided Van had been right: she was
attractive enough to make Fand jealous. Was she more
attractive than the Trokme woman? Their looks were so
different, the comparison didn't seem worthwhile. But
that it had even crossed his mind made him wonder if
Ricolf hadn't been wiser back at his keep than the Fox
had thought at the time.
He scowled, angry at himself for so much as enter-
taining that notion. Selatre said, * What's wrong? You look
as if you just bit into something sour."
Before he could come up with anything plausible, Van
saved the day, calling, "Come over here by the fire, both
of you, and bite into something that's going to be gamy
and greasy, like I said before, but better all the same
than a big empty curled up and purring in your belly."
The duck was just as Van had predicted it would be,
but Gerin fell to gratefully even so. A full mouth gave
him the excuse he needed for not answering Selatre's
question, and a full belly helped him almost—if not
quite—forget the thoughts which had prompted that
question in the first place.
The wagon came out from behind the last stand of
firs that blocked the view toward Castle Fox. 'There it
is," Gerin said, pointing. "Not a fortress to rival the ones

Prince of the North
183
the Elabonian Emperors built in the pass south of Cassat,
but its held for many long years now; the gods willing,
it'll go on a bit longer."
Selatre leaned forward in the rear of the wagon to see
better, though she was still careful not to brush against
the Fox or Van. 'Why are most of the timbers of the
palisade that ugly, faded green?" she said.
Van chuckled 'The lady has taste."
"So she does." Gerin refused to take offense, and
answered the question in the spirit in which he hoped it
had been asked "It was a paint a wizard put on them, to
keep another wizard from setting them afire."
"Ah," Selatre said Thin in the distance—Gerin did
not allow trees and undergrowth to spring up anywhere
near the keep; if anyone set ambushes, he'd be that one—
a horn from the watchtower said the wagon had been
seen.
He twitched the reins and rode forward with a curi-
ous mixture of anticipation and dread seeing his com-
rades again would be good, and perhaps some of them
had word of Duren. But the trouble he expected from
Fand cast a shadow over the homecoming.
"We were free peasants in the village where I grew
up; we owed no lord service," Selatre said "Not much
of what we heard about Elabonian barons was good,
and I came to have a poor opinion of the breed. You
tempt me to think I may have been wrong."
Gerin shrugged "Barons are men like any others.
Some of us are good, some bad, some both mixed
together like most people. I'm bright enough, for
instance, but I woriy too much and I'm overly solitary.
My vassal Drago the Bear, whom you'll meet, isn't what
you call quick of wit and he hates anything that smacks
of change, but he's brave and loyal and has the knack of
making his own people like him. And Wolfar of the Axe,

184
Harry Turtledove
whos dead now, was vicious and treacherous, if you ask
me, but he'd never shrink from a fight As I say, we re a
mixed bag."
"You speak of yourself as if you were someone else,"
Selatre said.
"I try sometimes to think of myself that way," the Fox
answered Tt keeps me from making too much of myself
in my own mind. The fellow who's sure he can't possibly
go wrong is usually the one who's likeliest to."
A couple of men came out of the gate and waved to
the approaching wagon: squat Drago with slim Rihwin
beside him. "Any luck, lord?" Drago called, raising his
voice to a shout
'What did the Sibyl say?" Rihwin asked, also loudly.
'We're still the ripple of news furthest out from where
the rock went into the pond," Van said
"So we are." Gerin nodded, adding, "I like the pic-
ture your words call to mind." Behind them and in every
other direction, others would also be spreading word of
what had happened at Ikos. Soon the whole of the
northlands would know. But for now, there was a divid-
ing line between those who did and those who didn't,
and he and Van were on it
He raised his voice in turn to answer his vassals: "By
your leave, I'll tell the tale in the great hall and not sooner.
That way I'll have to retell it only once, and there's a
good deal to it"
"Is that Duren in the wagon behind you?" Rihwin
asked
Drago's sight hadbegun to lengthen as he aged Today,
that served him well. "No, loon," he said "That's a man
grown. No, I take it back—a woman?' The Fox didn't
blame him for sounding surprised
Rihwin's agile wits let him leap to a conclusion that
wouldn't have occurred to Drago. "You've caught up with

Prince of the North
185
Elise?" he said loudly. "Did she steal the boy away, lord
Gerin?" That his wits were agile, of course, didn't neces-
sarily mean he was right
At that moment, Gerin wished he'd kept quiet. The
rumor would be all over the keep, all over the serf vil-
lages, and would spread faster than the truth could fol-
low it. "No, it's not Elise," he said, even louder than
Rihwin had spoken. 'This is the lady Selatre, who up till
bare days ago was Biton's Sibyl at Ikos."
Warriors up on the palisade, who'd already begun
to gossip about Rihwin's speculation, abrupdy fell
silent Then they started buzzing again, more busily
than before. Maybe Rihwin's wild guess wouldn't go
everywhere after all, Gerin thought: the truth was so
much stranger that it might take precedence.
He drove the wagon over the drawbridge and into
the keep, then got down from it Van slipped off from
the other side. They both stood back to let Selatre descend
with no risk of touching either of them.
Gerin introduced his vassals to her one by one. He
wondered how good she'd be at matching unfamiliar
names to equally unfamiliar faces; that often gave him
trouble. But she coped well enough, and showed she
knew who was who when she spoke to the men. The
Fox was impressed
Widin Simrin's son asked the question they all had to
be thinking: "Uh, lord Gerin, how did you come to have
the holy Sibyl riding with you?"
"You felt tihe earthquake a few days past?" Gerin asked
in turn.
Heads bobbed up and down. Drago said, "Aye, we did,
lord like to scare the piss out of me, it did We lost some
pots, too, and spilled ale from a couple of broken jars." He
sighed in sorrow at the misfortune. Then he scratched
his head "Has that aught to do with the lady here?"

186	Harry Turtledove
"It has everything to do with the lady here," Gerin
said Van nodded, the crimson horsehair plume on his
helm drawing eyes to him. The Fox went on, "Lets all go
into the great hall. I hope not all the ale spilled" He
waited until reassured on that before finishing, "Good,
for 111 need a mug or two to ease my throat as I—and
Van, and the lady Selatre—tell you what happened, and
why she's here."
He waved toward the entrance to the castle. Drago
and Widin and Rihwin and the rest hurried inside. Selatre
waited till they'd gone through the door before she too
went in. Even if she'd consciously decided not to let get-
ting touched every once in a while bother her, she aimed
to avoid it where she could
Gerin did not go into the great hall until even Selatre
was inside. He told himself that was politeness, and so it
was, but it was also anxiety: he put off for a moment the
likelihood of confronting Fand
He knew that was foolish: putting off trouble, even
for a little while, wasn't worth the effort, and often made
it worse when it finally came. But knowing that and fac-
ing up to a screaming fight with Fand were two differ-
ent things. At last, bracing himself as if walking into a
winter wind, he walked into the great halL
His stiff pose eased as his eyes adjusted to the gloom
within: Fand had to be still upstairs. "Took you long
enough," Van rumbled, though he no doubt had the same
concern. "If you'd stayed out there much longer, the ale
would ve been drunk by the time you got around to join-
ing us."
"Can't have that" Gerin went over to the jar and
dipped a jack full. He wet his throat, then told what had
happened on the way to Ikos and after he and Van had
got there. His vassal barons muttered angrily when he
spoke of the peasants who'd hunted him in the night

Prince of the North
187
He shook his head "I was angry at the time, too, but it all
fades away when you set it alongside what came later."
He spoke of the trip down to the Sibyls cave and of
the disturbing oracular response Biton had delivered
through Selatre's lips. His listeners muttered again, this
time with the same dread he'd felt when those doom-
filled words washed over him. Selatre broke in, "I
remember lord Gerin and Van coming into my under-
ground chamber, but nothing after that, for the mantic
trance had possessed me."
Gerin went on with the rest of the story: Selatre s con-
tinued and abnormal unconsciousness, the meeting with
Aragis in the temple, the carouse afterwards (now that
his hangover was gone, Van grinned in fond memory),
and the earthquake the next morning.
Sometime while he was going through all that, Fand
came down and sat beside Drago the Bear. Maybe the
vassal baron's bulk kept Gerin from spotting her right
away, or maybe he'd kept from looking toward the stairs
on purpose. But she leaned forward when he spoke of
the monsters that had emerged from the ruins of Biton's
temple. Again, he had his listeners' complete and dis-
mayed attention. Fand kept quiet while he spoke of the
battle the creatures had had with the temple guards in
the sacred precinct
Then he said, "We'd gone back there, Van and I,
because our innkeeper said the Sibyl still hadn't come to
her senses. After the quake, we feared her cottage would
burn like so many buildings in the town of Ikos. Since
we'd been responsible for pitching her into the fit, we
thought we should make amends for it if we could As it
happened, her dwelling hadn't caught fire, but the mon-
sters would have made short work of her if we hadn't got
there when we did"
Fand stirred but still did not speak. Selatre said, "I

188
Harry Turtledove
woke up in their wagon some hours later, with my world
turned all topsy-turvy/'
Actually hearing Selatre seemed to draw Fand's notice
to her. The Trokme woman leaned forward, her chin on
her hands, intently studying the former Sibyl. Then, to
Gerins dismay, she got to her feet and looked from him
to Van. In a voice low but no less menacing because of
that, she said, "And which of you was it, now, who was
after wanting to trade me for the first new bit o' baggage
you chanced upon, like a wandering tinker mending a
pot in exchange for a night's rest and a bit o' bread in the
morning?"
"Now, lass, didn't you listen to the Fox?" Van usually
had no trouble with women, but now he sounded ner-
vous, which didn't help. "It wasn't her body we had
designs on, just saving her life."
"Likely tell," Fand snarled. "Sure and you'd have been
just as eager to go back for her had she been old and
toothless, not young and toothsome, sure and you would"
Gerin had thought himself the most sarcastic soul in
the northlands; saying one thing and meaning another
was a subtle art more often practiced south of the High
Kirs. But wherever Fand had picked it up, she was dan-
gerously good at it. And her furious question made the
Fox ask himself if he would have headed back toward
the fane to rescue Selatre's crone of a predecessor. He
had to admit he didn't know, and that troubled him.
"Is this your wife, lord Gerin, thinking I'm some sort
of menace to her?" Selatre asked. "I hope that is not so."
Now she looked as if she doubted anew all the assur-
ances she'd come to trust on the road north from Ikos.
"My leman, rather, and Van's," the Fox answered.
Selatre raised an eyebrow at his domestic arrangements,
but he ignored that; he'd worry about it later. Fand, as
usual, was immediate trouble. To her, he said, "I'll thank

Prince of the North	189
you to keep a civil tongue in your head. By the gods, I
did what I did for the reasons I said I did it, and if you
don't fancy that, you can pack up and leave."
"Och, you'd like that, now wouldn't you?" Fand was
low-voiced no more; her screech drove Drago from the
seat close by her. "Well, lord Gerin the Fox—and you
too, you overthewed oaf' —this to Van— "you'll not be
rid of me so easy as that, indeed and you won't Use me
and cast me forth, will you?"
She picked up her drinking jack and threw it at Gerin.
It was half fall; a trail of ale, like a comet's tail, followed it
as it flew. The Fox had been expecting it, so he ducked
in good time—you needed battle-honed reflexes to live
with Fand
Van tried again. "Now, lass—"
She snatched the dipper out of the jar of ale and flung
it at him. It clanged off the bronze of his cuirass. He was
vain about his gear; he looked down in regret and anger
at the ale that dripped to the floor.
T ought to heat your backside for that," he said, and
took a step forward, as if to do it on the spot
"Aye, come ahead, thrash me," Fand fleered, and stuck
out the portion of her anatomy he had threatened 'Then
tomorrow or the day after or the day after that you'll be
all sweet and poke that cursed one-eyed snake o' yours
in my face—and I'll bite down hard enough to leave you
no more'n a newborn wean has. D'you think I wouldn't?"
By the appalled look he wore, Van thought she Would
He turned to Gerin for help in quelling this mutiny. The
Fox didn't know what to say, either. He wondered if Fand
would storm out of the castle, or if he'd have to throw
her out He didn't really want to do that; for all her hell-
ish temper, he liked having her around, and not just
because he slept with her. Till Duren was kidnapped,
she'd watched over him as tenderly as if she'd given birth

190
Harry Turtledove
to him. Her wits were sharp, too, as he sometimes found
to his discomfort
Right now, though, he wouldn't have minded putting
a hard hand to her behind, if only he'd thought that would
make matters better. Unfortunately, he thought it would
make them worse. If force wouldn't help and she
wouldn't listen to reason, what did that leave? He wished
he could come up with something.
Then Selatre got to her feet She dropped a curtsy to
Fand as if the Trokme woman had been Empress of
Elabon and said, "Lady, I did not come here intending
to disrupt your household in any way: on that I will take
oath by any gods you choose. I am virgin in respect of
men, and have no interest in changing my estate there;
as lord Gerin and Van of the Strong Arm both know, any
touch from an entire man would have left: me religiously
defiled before—before Biton abandoned me." Her brief
hesitation showed the pain she still felt at that. "I tell you
once more, I am not one like to steal either of your men
from you."
Where Gerin and Van had fanned Fand's fury, Selatre
seemed to calm her. "Och, lass, I'm not after blaming
you," she said. "By all 'twas said, you had not even your
wits about you when these two great loons snatched you
away. But what you intend and what will be, oftentimes
they're not the same at all, at all. Think you I intended to
cast my lot with southron spalpeens?"
"I'm no southron," Van said with some dignity.
'"You're no Trokme, either," Fand said, to which the
oudander could only nod. But Fand wasn't screaming
any more; she just sounded sad, maybe over the way her
life had turned out, maybe—unlikely though that seemed
to Gerin—regretting her show of temper.
"And what am I?" Selatre said. She answered her own
question: "I was the god's servant, andproudandhonored

Prince of the North
191
he had chosen me through whom to speak. But now he
has left me, and so I must be nothing." She hid her face
in her hands and wept.
Gerin was helpless with weeping women. Maybe that
explained why he got on with Fand as well as he did—
instead of weeping, she threw things. He knew how to
respond to that He hadn't known what to do when Elise
cried, either, and suddenly wondered if that had been
one of the things that made her leave.
He looked to Van, who made an art of jollying women
into good spirits. But Van looked baffled, too. He jollied
women along mostly to get them into bed with him; when
faced with a virgin who wanted to stay such, he was at a
loss.
Finally the Fox went into the kitchens and came back
with a bowl of water and a scrap of cloth. He set them in
front of Selatre. "Here, wash your face," he said. She
gulped and nodded Van beamed, which made Gerin
feel good; he might not have done much, but he'd done
something,. It was a start

VII
A chariot came pounding up the road toward Fox
Keep. The driver was whipping the horses on so hard
that the car jounced into the air at every bump, threat-
ening to throw out him and his companion. "Lord Gerin!
Lord Gerin!" the archer cried
The Fox happened to be on the palisade. He stared
down in dismay at the rapidly approaching chariot He
was afraid he knew what news the onrushing warriors
bore. But he had been back in Fox Keep only five days
himself; he'd hoped he might have longer to prepare.
Hopes and reality too often parted company, though.
"What word?' he called to the charioteer and his pas-
senger.
They didn't hear him over the rattling of the car and
the pound of the horses' hooves, or spy him on the wall.
The chariot roared into the courtyard of the keep. The
driver pulled back on the reins so sharply that both horses
screamed in protest One tried to rear, which might have
overturned the chariot The lash persuaded the beast to
keep all four feet on the ground
At any other time, Gerin would have reproved the
driver for using the horses so; he believed treating ani-
mals mildly got the best service from them. Now, as he
hurried down from the walkway across the wall, such
trivial worries were far from his mind. 'What word?" he
repeated. "Tomril, Digan, what word?"
Tomril Broken-Nose tossed the whip aside and
jumped out of the chariot. "Lord Gerin, I'm here to tell
you I beg your pardon," he said.
192

Prince of the North
193
"You didn't come close to killing your team for that,"
the Fox answered
"Oh, but we did, lord prince," Digan Sejaris son said
Tomril and I, we both thought you were babbling like a
night ghost when you came up the Elabon Way warning
folk of those half-man, half-beast things that were sup-
posed to have gotten loose from under some old temple
or other—"
"But now we've seen 'em, lord Gerin," Tomril broke
in, his eyes wide. "They're ugly, they're mean, they've
got a taste for blood—"
Now Gerin interrupted: "And they must be up at the
bottom of Bevon's barony by now, or you wouldn't have
seen them. What news do you have from Ricolfs hold-
ing?"
"About what you'd expect," Tomril answered 'They're
loose there, too, the cursed things, and ripping serf vil-
lages to bits."
"Oh, a pestilence," Gerin said wearily. "If they're in
Ricolfs holding, and Bevon's, they'll be here, too. How
are the peasants supposed to grow crops if they're liable
to be killed in the fields or torn to pieces in their beds?"
"Curse me if I know the answer to that one," Tomril
said "Things I've seen, things I've heard, make me think
these creatures are worse than the Trokmoi, and harder
to get rid of, too."
'They don't care a fart about loot, neither," Digan
chimed in. "They just kill and feed and go away—and in
the woods, they're clever beasts, and not easy to hunt"
"I hadn't thought of that, but you're right," Gerin said
"How many Trokmoi have we disposed of because they
stayed around to plunder or loaded themselves down
with stolen gewgaws till they couldn't even flee?'
"A good many, lord." Tomril touched the hilt of his
sword in fond reminiscence. Then he scuffed the ground

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Harry Turtledove
with a hobnailed sandal 'Wont be so with these mon-
sters, though. They've got teeth and claws and enough
of a man's cleverness to be more dangerous'n wolves
ever dreamt of, but they aren't clever enough—I don't
think so, anyways—to steal the things we make."
"Maybe they're too clever for that," Gerin said His
warriors stared at him in incomprehension. He didn't
try to explain; struggling against the black depression
that threatened to leave him useless took all he had in
him. After he'd ridden out the Trokme invasion, he'd
begun, now and then, to have hope that he might keep
something of Elabonian civilization alive north of the
High Kirs. Now even a god seemed to have abandoned
the land, leaving it open for these monsters from under-
ground to course over it
Rihwin came up in time to hear the last part of the
exchange between Gerin and the two troopers. He said,
"Lord Gerin, meseems these creatures, however hor-
rific their semblance, should by virtue of their beasdy
nature be most vulnerable to magic: nor are they likely
to have sorcerers of their own to help them withstand
the cantrips we loose against them."
'The cantrips I loose against them, you mean," Gerin
said, which made Rihwin bite his lip in embarrassment
and nod. Gerin went on, "A really potent mage might be
able to do what you say. Whether I can is another ques-
tion altogether. I tell you frankly, I'm afraid of spells of
bane, mosdy because I know too well they can smite me
instead of the ones at whom I aim them."
"A man who recognizes his limits is wise," Rihwin said,
which made Gerin snort, for if he'd ever met a man who
had no sense of limit whatever, that man was Rihwin.
Gerin paced up and down in the courtyard At last he
stopped and made a gesture of repugnance. "I won't try
those spells," he said "That's not just for fear of getting

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them wrong, either. Even if I work them properly, I'm
liable to end up like Balamung, consumed by evil magic
that's overmastered me."
Rihwin studied him judiciously. "If any man could
work spells ofbanewithout their corrupting him, I reckon
you to be that man. But whether any man can do such
is, I concede, an open question."
"Sometimes open questions are best left unopened,"
Gerin said. What he would do if faced by disaster com-
plete and unalloyedhe did not know; he muttered a silent
prayer to Dyaus thathe would not have to find out Aloud,
he went on, 'What we need to do first, I think, is sum-
mon the vassals, fare south, and see if we can't teach
those creatures fear enough to make them learn to stay
away from lands I hold"
"As you say, lord prince," Rihwin agreed cheerfully
"I look forward to sallying forth against them." He mimed
shooting a bow from the pitching platform of a chariot
The Fox did not look forward to sallying forth. He felt
harassed. He'd never wanted to be baron of Fox Keep,
and once he became baron willy-nilly he'd never
delighted in war for its own sake, as so many men of the
northlands did After the Empire of Elabon abandoned
the northlands, his main aim had been to maintain its
legacy in the lands he ruled Fighting all the time did
nothing to further that aim, but failing to fight meant
dying, so what was he to do?
Rihwin said, "Of course, you also must needs take
into account the possibility that the Trokme clans north
of the Niffet will seize the chance to strike south on learn-
ing of your deployment toward the opposite side of your
holding."
'Thank you so much, bright ray of sunshine," Gerin
said "And I have to worry about Schild Stoutstaff, and
Adiatunnus, and where in the five hells my son has

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Harry Turtledove
disappeared to, and more other things than I have fin-
gers and toes to keep track of"
"Lord Gerin, thats why the Sithonians devised count-
ing boards," Rihwin said with a sly smile. Gerin stooped,
picked up a clod of dirt, and flung it at him. Rihwin
ducked. His smile got wider and even more impudent
"Ah, my fellow Fox, I see youve been taking lessons in
deportment from your lady."
"Grinning and ducking won't save you now," Gerin
exclaimed "You'd better run, too." He chased Rihwin
halfway round the keep, both men laughing like boys.
Gerin finally stopped "You're made of foolishness, do
you know that?"
"Maybe I am," Rihwin said "But ifsobe that's true,
what does it make you?'
"Daft," Gerin answered at once. "Anyone who'd want
to run a holding, let along the beginnings of a realm, has
to be daft" He sobered quickly. "I'll have to send out
word to my vassal barons to gather here with as many
armed men as they can bring. That can't wait. If it does,
we'll have other visitors than our warriors."
Fand stood in the doorway to her chamber and shook
her head. "No, Fox, I don't care to have you in here this
evening, so back to your own bed you can go."
Gerin scowled at her. ""Why not? This is three times
running you've told me no, and I know you've said aye
to Van at least twice." One reason the two friends had
stayed friends and not quarreled over Fand was that she'd
always treated them pretty evenhandedly—till now.
"Because I don't care to, is why," she said, now toss-
ing her head so her hair flew about in coppery ringlets.
"And if that's not enough of an answer to suit you, why,
to the corbies with you."
"I ought to—" he began.

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197
"Ought to what?' she broke in. "Have me by force?
Och, you can do it the once, belike; you're bigger nor I
am, and stronger, too. But your back'd never be safe
after that, nor had you better sleep but behind barred
door. For that I'd take vengeance if it cost the life of
»
me.
'Will you shut up, you idiot woman, and let me get a
word in edgewise?" he roared in a startlingly loud voice—
loud and startling enough to make Fand give back a pace.
"I was trying to say, before you started screeching at me,
that I ought to know what you think I've done wrong so
I can figure out whether I really meant it or if I should
try to make amends."
"Oh." Fand came as close to seeming subdued as she
ever did. After a moment, she sighed. "Its not that you
don't mean well, indeed and it isn't But haven't you had
enough to do with women to know that if you need to
ask a question like that, the answer'll do you no good?"
Elise had said things like that, not long before she left
him. He hadn't understood then, and didn't altogether
understand now. "I don't fancy guessing games," he said
slowly "Usually you tell me whatever's in your mind—
more than I want to hear, sometimes. Why not now?'
"Och, it's late at night, and I'd sooner sleep than have
a row with you the now," Fand said. "Go on to your own
bed, Fox. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel kinder toward you—
who knows?' Then, because she was honest in her own
fashion, she added, "Or maybe I won't"
Evasion made Gerin angry; when he wanted to know
something, he kept digging till he found out. 'Tell me
what you're thinking," he growled. "If I've done some-
thing wrong, I'll find a way to make it right."
"You do try that, I'll own; you're just enough and to
spare, for a fact," Fand said. 'This time, though, 'twill
not be so easy for you, I'm thinking." She shut her mouth

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Harry Turtledove
tight then, and gave him a stubborn look that warned
she'd say no more.
More than her words, the set of her face finally told
Gerin what she meant He clapped a hand to his fore-
head "You're still sizzling because I brought Selatre to
the keep," he exclaimed.
"And wouldn't you be, now, ifl was after coming back
here with a big-thewed, big-balled Trokme man with a
fine yellow mustache on him?" she said "Och, puir fel-
low, by the side o' the road I found him, starving and all.
Sure and I didn't fetch him back to sleep with him, even
if he will be living in the casde from here on out." She
did a wicked parody of his explanation of how he'd come
to bring Selatre to Casde Fox, and topped it off by
assuming an expression innocent and wanton at the same
time.
Gerin hoped he managed to disguise his startled laugh
as a cough, but wouldn't have bet money on it "You
have the tongue of a viper, do you know that?" he said It
pleased her, which wasn't what he'd had in mind. He
went on, "By the gods, I haven't set a hand on her since
she got here. I don't mean I haven't tried to take her to
bed, I mean I literally have not touched her. So I don't
know why you keep wanting to have kittens about it"
"Foosh, I know you've not touchedher." Fand tossed
her head in fine contempt. "But can you tell me so easy
you've not wanted to?"
"I—" Gerin lied with few qualms when he dealt with
his neighbors; only a fool, he reckoned, told the bald
truth on all occasions. But lying to his leman was a dif-
ferent business. He ended up not answering Fand at all.
When she saw he wasn't going to, she nodded and
quiedy shut the door between them. The bar on her
side did not come down; he could have gone in.
He stood in the hallway for a minute or so, then

Prince of the North
199
muttered, "What's the bloody use?" He went back to his
own chamber and lay down. He was still awake when
pale Nothos rose in the east, which meant midnight had
come and gone. Eventually he slept
Van sang in the stables as Raffo readied the chariot to
go out on campaign. Gerin had always looked on war as
an unpleasant part of the business of running a barony,
but now the idea of escaping from Casde Fox for a while
suited him fine.
When he said as much, Van stopped singing and
started to laugh. "What's so stinking funny?" the Fox
asked irritably.
"Youre that glad to get away from sweet Fand, are
you?" Van said, laughing still. 'This I tell you: she's as
happy to have you gone as you are to be going. Not just
her eyes are green; she's jealous enough to spit poison
like some of the snakes they have in the jungles of the
east."
"I already saw that for myself, thank you very much,"
Gerin said. He wished Van hadn't brought it up where
Raffo and a good many other men as well could listen,
but after a moment he realized that didn't matter: the
only people in his holding who hadn't heard about how
well Fand liked his coming back with Selatre were deaf,
and their friends had probably drawn pictures in the
dirt for them. Fixing the outlander with a baleful stare,
he ground out, "And how is it she hasn't stayed angry
with you? You had as much to do with getting Selatre
here as I did."
"Oh, no doubt, no doubt," Van admitted. Just then
Raffo climbed into the chariot. Van followed him, set-
ting his shield in the bracket on his side of the car.
Gerin did the same on his side. "You were saying?" he
prompted when Van showed no sign of going on.

200
Harry Turtledove
"I was, wasn't I? Wall, how do I put it?" Van fiddled
with his weapons to give him time to gather his thoughts.
Raffo flicked the reins and got the horses going. As they
passed from the stable out into the courtyard, the out-
lander said, "I guess the nub of it is, she believes me
when I tell her I'm not out to bed Selatre. You she's not
so sure about."
"I don't know what I have to do," Gerin said wearily.
Tve told Fand and I've told her—"
"Not that simple, Captain, and you likely know it as
well as I do," Van said. "Me, I'm a wencher and not a lot
more, and Fand, she suits me well enough, though the
gods know I'd sooner she didn't have that redheaded
temper of hers. You and Fand, though ... but for bed,
damn me to the hottest one of your five hells if I can see
where the two of you fit together."
"She came to Fox Keep at the right time," Gerin
answered.
"Oh, I know that," Van said "After Elise up and left,
any woman would have done you for a while, just to let
you remember you're a man. But I'd not expected this
to last so long." He laughed again. "I figured you'd sicken
of quarreling with her and leave her all to me, not that I
know whether I could stand that myself."
"You have all of her now, seems like, without my hav-
ing any say at all," the Fox answered, less than delighted
his friend had seen into him so clearly.
"So I do, and I still don't know whether I can stand
it." The outlander sighed. "What made it work so well,
the three of us I mean, is that Fand has more than enough
venom for any one man, but she's bearable when she
has two to spread it on. Of course, it helps that neither
of us is the jealous sort."
"No." Gerin let it go at that. Had he cared more for
Fand, he thought, he would have been more likely to be

Prince of the North
201
jealous, too, but he didn't care to say as much straight
out. He did add, "Another thing that helps is that she's
lickerish enough for the two of us together. I think she'd
wear me out if I had to try to keep her happy by my
lonesome."
"You're getting old," Van said, to which the Fox mimed
throwing a punch, for his friend was no younger. Then
Van sighed again, and went on, "One more thing to wony
about." He stopped, seemed to listen to himself, and
guffawed. "By the gods, I've been with you too long,
Captain. I'm even starting to sound like you."
"Believe me, I like the idea even less than you do,"
Gerin answered, and Van pretended to wallop him. Up
ahead at the reins, Raffo snickered.
The chariots rolled south down the Elabon Way in no
particular order, now bunched together, now strung out
in a long line. Sometimes the Fox's warriors sang or
swapped jokes, sometimes they kept them to themselves.
Gerin knew the Empire of Elabon had imposed stricter
discipline on its soldiers when it was strong, but he didn't
know how the trick was done. By all the evidence, Elabon
didn't know anymore, either.
Even though he was still in his own holding, he kept a
wary eye on the woods and brush to either side of the
Elabon Way If the monsters from Ikos had been seen
in Bevon's holding (not that Bevon held much of it), they
might be loose in Palm s lands, too—and they might have
come farther north than that
Serfs in the fields stared as the chariots bounced
past them. A few took no chances, but dropped their
hoes and stone-headed mattocks and ran for the safety
of the trees. After the chaos the northlands had
endured the past five years, that did not surprise the
Fox, but it left him sad. Here he and his comrades
fared forth to protect the peasants, and they seemed

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Harry Turtledove
to feel they needed protecting from their overlords.
Thanks to Germs forethoughtfulness, the litde army
had several hens among the baggage. They also had
enough axes to cut plenty of firewood for a good-sized
blaze. Between the offering and the fire, the evening
ghosts were hardly more than a distraction.
"We'll set pairs of sentries out all night long in a triangle,"
Gerin said "I won't have us assailed without warning."
Van took charge of roasting the two chickens they'd
sacrificed He was the logical man for the job: not only
was he as good a roadside cook as anyone else, he was
also no one to argue with when he passed out pieces of
meat, for there weren't enough to go around. Those who
went without chicken made do with hard-baked biscuits
and smoked meat, cheese, and onions. Everyone drank
ale.
Gerin tossed a gnawed thighbone into the fire. He
chewed at a biscuit about as tough as his own teeth. T
wonder if this came from Ros the Fierce's reign, or just
Oren's," he said after he managed to get a mouthful down.
"You have no cause to make complaint against Oren
the Builder," Rihwin said, "for the image of him you
fetched back from the fane at Ikos leaves you perhaps
the richest man in the northlands."
"Aye, gold is good to have, I'll not deny," Gerin said
'That's not the way I expected to come by it, but you
hear no complaints from me."
Some of the warriors rolled themselves in their blan-
kets as soon as they'd finished eating. Others stayed up a
while to talk or roll knucklebones by the light of the fire.
Van snarled in angry dismay when he lost three throws
in a row; his luck usually ran better than that Then he
lost again, and stood up from the game. "Enough is
enough," he declared.
"Well, if you won't gamble with us, what about a tale?"

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Widin Simrins soil said He had his own reasons for being
willing to call off the game: a nice little pile of silver
gleamed in front of him.
Everyone who heard the suggestion spoke up for it
all the same, especially the men from outlying keeps who
seldom got the chance to hear Van yarn. The outlander
coughed and plucked at his beard 'Which tale shall I
give you?" he asked. "You pick one for me."
"How about the one about how they teach the mon-
keys to pick pepper?" Gerin said "You were going to
start it a few days ago, but we got interrupted And if I've
not heard it, my guess is that few others here have."
From the way the warriors exclaimed, none of them
knew the story. "So I've not told it in all the time I've
been at your keep, eh, Captain?' Van said "Nice to know
I've not yarned myself dry, and that's a fact All right,
here goes: the tale of the way they teach monkeys to
pick pepper."
Before he started the story, he paused to swig ale and
lubricate his throat. That accomplished, he said, 'This is
what I saw in Mabalal, which is a hot, damp country a
good ways east and south from Kizzuwatna. Take the
muggiest summer day you've ever known here, imagine
it ten times worse, and you'll start to know what the
weather there is like.
"Now maybe it's on account of the weather, but a lot
of the folk of Mabalal are what you'd have to call lazy.
Some of 'em, I swear, would just as soon lie with their
mouths open in the rain as get up and find themselves a
cup to drink from—but that's no part of the tale.
"If you want to know what pepper trees are like, think
of willows—they look much like 'em, right down to the
clusters of fruit. The trouble with 'em is, they grow on
the steepest hillsides and cliffs, so people have a beastly
time getting to 'em to take away the pepper."

204
Harry Turtledove
"Probably why it costs so much by the time it gets
here," Gerin said.
"Likely so, Captain. Now the folk of Mabalal are lazy,
like I said. If we had to hope for them to climb hillsides
and cliffs to gather the pepper fruits, it'd cost more than
it does, I tell you true. What they do instead is get the
monkeys to work for 'em, or maybe trick 'em into it
would be a better way to put it"
"What's a monkey?" asked a warrior from an isolated
keep, a man who never went more than a couple of hours'
walk from his holding unless on campaign.
"A monkey is a beast about the size of a half-year babe
that looks like a furry, ugly little man with a tail," Van
answered patiently. "They live in trees, and have thumbs
on their feet as well as their hands. They're clever and
mischievous, almost like children, and they cause a lot
of trouble stealing things and ruining them.
'The other thing about monkeys is, they like to do
what people do—and the folk of Mabalal, who live with
'em the same way we do with dogs and cats, know it.
There are whole bands of these monkeys, mind you,
that live in the rough country where the pepper trees
grow. So when the Mabalali want to get themselves some
pepper, what they do is this: they go down to the foot-
hills below the rough country and pick all the fruit off
some of the trees there. Then they dump piles of the
fruit in little clearings they've made close by, and they
pretend to up and leave.
"Now, all the while the monkeys have been watching
them from the high ground. The monkeys go and they
pick the fruits from the pepper trees, and then they come
down and they drop them in the clearings just the same
way they'd seen the men do it Sometimes they'll steal
the fruit the Mabalali have left, sometimes they won't.
Either way, the Mabalali get the pepper, and they get it

Prince of the North
205
without having to do the hard work themselves. So you
see, sometimes being lazy isn't such a bad thing after
all."
The warriors buzzed appreciatively, as they wouldhave
at any tale well told. For them it was a pleasant way to
pass the time and a story to remember so they could tell
it in turn. Gerin also liked it on those terms, but it set
him thinking in a different way, too. "I wonder how many
useful things have come from mens being too lazy to
keep on doing things the same old hard way," he mused.
"Give me a for-instance, Captain," Van said.
That made the Fox scratch his head. At last he said,
'Take the fellow who thought of the wagon. Wouldn't
you bet he was sick of hauling things on his back?"
"Ah, I see what you're saying," Van said. "Likely so."
"And the fellow who first brewed ale, what was he
sick of?" Rihwin asked. With a grin, he answered his
own question: "Seeing straight, I suppose."
Gerin and Van both laughed at that, but Drago the
Bear drew in a sharp, disapproving breath. "No man
first brewed ale," he said flatly "Twas the gift of the god
Baivers, and any who don't want his anger had best
remember it"
Rihwin opened his mouth for what Gerin was sure
would be a reply taken straight from the philosophers of
the City of Elabon. Before that reply could emerge, Gerin
forestalled it: "Rihwin, my fellow Fox, I trustyou do recall
the difficulties you had with Mavrix god of wine not so
long ago?"
"Well, yes, I do," Rihwin said reluctantly "I did not
believe, however, that you of all people in the northlands
would stifle the full and open discussion of ideas of all
sorts. I—"
Gerin took him by the arm. "Here, walk with me," he
said in a tone that brooked no argument. When the two

206
Harry Turtledove
men were as far from the fire and the blood offering as
the wailing of the ghosts would let them go, Gerin con-
tinued in a low voice, 'Tor all your study, one thing you
never learned: there's a time and a place for everything.
If you want to start arguments about the nature and pow-
ers of the gods, don't do it when you're heading out on
campaign. I want my men's thoughts focused on two
things: working with one another and slaughtering any
monsters they happen across. Does that make sense to
you?"
"I suppose so," Rihwin said, though he sounded sulky.
"Yet you would be hard-pressed to deny that in theory—"
Gerin cut him off again, this time with a sharp chop-
ping gesture of his left hand. 'Theory is wonderful," he
said "What we have here is fact—if the men quarrel
among themselves, they won't fight well. You do any-
thing more to make them fight worse than they would
otherwise and I'll leave you behind at the first keep we
come to, or at a peasant village failing that. Do you
understand me?"
"Oh, indeed." Rihwin angrily tossed his head; fire-
light glinted from the gold hoop in his left ear. "You're a
hard man when you take the field, lord prince Gerin the
Fox." He loaded Germs tide with scorn.
"War is too important a business to be slack with it,"
Gerin answered, shrugging. "Will you do as I say and
not stir up disputes among the gods, or shall I leave you?
Those are your choices, sirrah."
Rihwin sighed. "Let it be as you say You'd do better,
though, if you learned to ease men into doing your will
rather than hammering them into it"
"No doubt." Gerin sighed, too. Rihwin had nothing
wrong with his wits, only a dearth of common sense.
"And you'd do better if you thought more before you
started talking or doing things. We all try to be the best

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men we can, and we all fail in different ways. Which
watch do you have tonight?"
"The middle one." Rihwin s mobile features assumed
an expression of distaste.
'There, you see?" Gerin said. "If your head held as
much sense as a cabbage, youd be asleep already instead
of standing here arguing with me. Go curl up in your
blanket."
"The power of your reasoning ravishes me yet again,"
Rihwin cried. Gerin snorted and made as if to kick him
in the backside. The transplanted southerner lay down
and soon fell asleep. Gerin had the midwatch, too, but
stayed awake a good deal longer.
When the Foxs chariots rolled down into Bevon's hold-
ing, all the local barons shut themselves up right in their
keeps and prepared to stand siege. "You just want to bite
out another piece of our land," one of them called from
his palisade when Gerin came up to the wall.
"That's not so," Gerin answered, wondering if the
white rag he bore would protect him from the lordlet's
archers. As he had so many times before, he spoke of
the monsters that had erupted from the caves beneath
Biton's temple.
And, as had happened too many times before, he met
only disbelief The petty baron laughed scornfully "You're
supposed to be clever, Fox. I'd have thought you could
come up with a better excuse than that to come down
on your neighbors."
"Have it as you will." The Fox knew he sounded weary,
but couldn't help it "You'll find out soon enough whether
I'm telling the truth. When you learn I am, maybe you'll
remember some of what I've said" He turned and walked
back to the chariot where Van and Raffo waited. No one
shot at him, so he just rode on.

208
Harry Turtledove
Down at the southern border of Bevon's holding,
Ricolfs men were no longer wary of the force Gerin
used to hold the Elabon Way open. They'd seen the
monsters for themselves—seen more of them than the
Fox had, as a matter of fact. He spent the first couple of
hours after he arrived asking questions.
"Some of the creatures are smarter than others, lord
prince, seems like," one of Ricolfs troopers said "I've
seen a couple carrying sword or axe, and one even with
a helm on its ugly head But others'll either charge or
run off, just like wild beasts."
"Interesting." Gerin plucked at his beard "How many
of them are there, would you say, and how much dam-
age have they done?"
"How many? Too many, that's sure," the trooper said
"As for damage, think how much fun wolves would be if
they had more in the way of wits, and hands to let them
get into things doors and gates keep them out of."
Gerin thought about it He didn't like the pictures
that painted themselves in his mind Elabonians were in
the habit of calling Trokmoi wolves because of their fierce
raids, but they had humanly understandable motives:
they were out for loot and captives as well as slaughter
for its own sake. Beasts that hunted and killed without
grasping, let alone using, the concepts of mercy and
restraint were daunting in an altogether different way.
The Fox thanked Ricolfs man and went back to pass
the word to his own warriors. "One thing's certain," he
said when he'd given them the grim news: "These crea-
tures won't act like a regular army of men. They aren't
an army at all, not really. Instead of trying to storm up
the Elabon Way in a mass, I look for them to spread
through the woods by ones and twos and maybe packs—
no larger groups or bands or whatever you want to call
them."

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"If that's so, lord Gerin, we might as well not have
brung these here chariots," Widin Simrin's son said
"For fighting, you're right," the Fox answered, letting
his young vassal down easy "But we'dhave been another
two or three days on the road if we'd footed it down
here."
Widin nodded, abashed Drago the Bear said, "What'll
you have us do with the cars, then? We can't go into the
woods with 'em, that's certain, and you say the woods is
where we'll find these things." He shook his head in som-
ber anticipation. "You're going to make foot soldiers out
of us, I know you are."
"Do you see that I have any choice?" Gerin asked.
"Here's what I'm thinking: we'll split up by chariot crews,
with teams of three crews sticking together in teams.
That'll give each team nine men, which should be enough
to hold off even a pack of the creatures. At the same
time, we'll have eight or ten teams spreading out along
the border between Bevon's and Ricolfs holdings, and
that ought to give us a chance to keep a lot of the beasts
from slipping farther north."
'What about the ones that are already over the bor-
der?" Van asked. "How are you going to deal with them?"
"Bevon's vassals, or rather Bevon's sons' vassals, will
slay some of them," Gerin said. 'That should convince
them the things are real and dangerous. As for the oth-
ers, we'll just have to hope there aren't too many."
"Fair enough," Van said, to Germ's relief. The Fox's
great fear—one he didn't want to speak aloud to his fol-
lowers—was that, like the Trokmoi, the monsters would
permanently establish themselves in the northlands. If
men couldn't rid the woods of wolves, how were they to
be free of creatures cleverer and more vicious than
wolves?
He divided his men into teams of nine, and appointed

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Harry Turtledove
a leader for each band. He had contrary misgivings about
naming Drago and Rihwin: the one might miss things
he ought to find, while the other got in trouble by being
too inventive. But they were both better than anyone
else in their bands, so he spoke their names firmly and
hoped for the best
He ordered half the teams to head east from the
Elabon Way, the other half west.*We'll go out for three
days, hunt for a day, and then come back," he said "Any-
body who's not back to the road in seven days' time and
hasn't been eaten to give him an excuse will answer to me."
Eastbound and westbound forces headed out from
the highway; the Fox and his chariot crew were in the
latter. At first each half of the litde army tramped along
as a single body, the better to overawe any of the local
nobles who might be tempted to fare forth against them.
Men chattered and sang and, after a while, began to
grumble about sore feet
When morning had turned to afternoon and the sun
sank toward the horizon, Gerin turned to the team
headed by Widin Simrin's son. "You men go back and
forth through the woods hereabouts," he said 'The rest
of us will push on, then leave another team behind, then
another, and another, so when we're through we'll have
men all along the border. Do you see?"
"Aye, lord," Widin answered That means at the end of
our reach, though, so to speak, we won't be able to search
for as long as we will here closer to the Elabon Way"
True enough," the Fox said, "but I don't know what
we can do about it Travel takes time, and there's no help
for it." He nodded approvingly to Widin; that was a much
better point than the one he'd raised before. Gerin hadn't
worked the implications of his strategy through so logi-
cally himself. 'When we get back to Fox Keep, would
you be interested in learning to read and write?"

Prince of the North
211
"No, lord prince," Widin replied at once. "Got better
things to do with my time, I do—hunting and wenching
and keeping my vassals and serfs in line/' He sounded so
sure of himself that Gerin subsided with a sigh and did
not push the question.
With Widin s team left behind, the rest tramped on.
They took a game track through a stand of oaks and
emerged on the far side at the edge of cleared fields in
which peasants labored The peasants stared at them in
horror, as if they were so many monsters themselves,
then fled
Their cries of terror made Gerin melancholy. "This
holding has seen too much war," he said "Lets push
ahead without harming anything here: let them know
not every warrior is out to steal what little they have."
"A wasted lesson if ever I heard one," Van said. 'The
next band through here, so long as it isn't one of ours,
will treat them the way they expect us to." Gerin glared
at him so fiercely that he hastened to add, "But we'll do
it your way, Captain—why not?"
Evening came before the Fox reckoned the time ripe
to detach another piece of his force. Along with the men
he had with him, he tossed knucklebones to see who
would stand watch through the night He felt like cheer-
ing when he won the ri^it to uninterrupted sleep. No
sooner had he cocooned himself in his blanket and
wriggled around a little to make sure no pebbles poked
his ribs than he knew nothing of the world around him.
A hideous cry recalled him to himself: a wailing shriek
part wolf, part longtooth, part madman. He sat up and
looked around wildly, wondering for a moment where
he was and what he was doing here. His gaze went to
the heavens. Tiwaz, nearly full, stood high in the south;
ruddy Elleb, a couple of days past fullness, was in the
southeast. Crescent Math had set and Nothos not yet

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Harry Turtledove
risen. That put the hour a little before midnight
Then all such mundane, practical thoughts vanished
from his head, for the dreadful call again rang through
the woods and across the fields. Some men started up
from their bedrolls, grabbing for bow or sword. Others
shrank down, as if to smother the cry with the thick wool
of their blankets. Gerin could not find it in himself to
blame them; the scream made him want to hide, too.
In a very small voice, someone said, "Is that the cry
these monsters make?"
"Don't know what else it could be."Van sounded amaz-
ingly cheerful. "Noisy buggers, aren't they? 'Course, frogs
are noisy, too, and a frog isn't hardly anything but air and
legs."
Gerin admired his friend's sangfroid He also admired
the way the outlander had done his best to make the
creatures from the caves seem less dangerous; he knew
they were a great deal more than air and legs.
The frightful cry rang out yet again. "How are we to
sleep with that racket?' Widin Simrin's son said.
"You roll up in your blanket and you close your eyes,"
Gerin said, not about to let Van outdo him in coolness.
"We have sentries aplenty; you won't be eaten while you
snore."
"And if you are, you can blame the Fox," Van put in,
adding, "Not that it'll do you much good then."
Off in the distance, almost on the edge of hearing,
another monster shrieked to answer the first That sent
ice walking up Gerins back, not from terror at the far-
away cry but because it said the creatures that made
those dreadful sounds were spreading over the
northlands. Gerin wondered how many more were call-
ing back and forth farther away than he could hear.
The one nearby kept quiet after that Exhaustion and
edgy nerves fought a battle over the Fox; exhaustion

Prince of the North
213
eventually won. The next thing he knew, the sun was
piying his eyelids open. He got up and stretched, feeling
elderly His mouth tasted like something scraped off the
bottom of a chamber pot He walked over to a tree,
plucked off a twig, frayed one end of it with the edge of
his dagger, and used it to scrub some of the vileness
from his teeth. Some of his men did the same, others
didn't bother.
Rihwin, who'd grown up south of the High Kirs, was
so fastidious that even frayed twigs didn't completely
satisfy him. As he tossed one aside, he said, "In the City
of Elabon they make bristle brushes for your mouth.
Those are better by far than these clumsy makeshifts."
"If you like, you can teach the art to one of the peas-
ants who makes big brushes for rubbing down horses,"
Gerin said "We might be able to sell them through the
northlands—not many southern amenities to be had here
these days."
"My fellow Fox, I admire the wholeheartedness of
your mercenary spirit," Rihwin said
"Anyone who sneers at silver has never tried to live
without it" Gerin looked around "Where'd Van go?"
"He walked into the woods a while ago," Widin said
"He's probably off behind a tree, taking care of his morn-
ing business."
The outlander returned a few minutes later. He said
'When you're done breaking your fast, friends, I want
you to come with me. I went looking for the spot where
that thing made a racket last night, and I think I found
it"
Several of the men were still gnawing on hard bread
and sausage as they followed Van. He led them down a
tiny track to a clearing perhaps a furlong from the camp.
The carcass of a doe lay there. Much of the hindquarters
portion had been devoured

214
Harry Turtledove
A scavenging fox fled from the carcass when die men
came out of the woods. Van said to Gerin, "I hope your
name animal hasn't ruined the tracks I saw. I'd be liable
to think ill of it if it has, and I know you wouldn't like
that" He walked over to the doe, grunted. "No, looks
like we're all right Come up a few at a time, all of you,
and have a look at what the ground shows."
Gerin was part of the first small group forward. When
he got close to the dead doe, Van pointed to a patch of
bare, soft dirt by the animal. The footprints there were
like none the Fox had ever seen. At first he thought they
might be a man's, then a bear's—they had claw marks in
front of the ends of their toes. But they didn't really
resemble either. They were—something new.
"So this is the spoor we have to look for, is it?" he said
grimly.
"Either that or someone's magicking our eyes," Van
answered. "And I don't think anybody is."
The Fox didn't think so, either. He waited till all his
men had seen the new footprints, then said, 'They have
claws on their hands, too. Now that we know what their
tracks look like, let's get moving and see if we can't hunt
down a few."
The warriors were quiet as they trooped back to the
campsite. Now they had real evidence that Gerin and
Van hadn't made up the tale about the monsters. They'd
believed them already, likely enough, in an abstract way,
but hearing about something new and terrible wasn't
the same as seeing proof it was really there.
A couple of hours after they started tramping west,
Gerin detached another band of men from his force to
scour the area where they were. The rest slogged on;
grumbles about aching feet got louder.
Around noon, Rihwin said, "Lord Gerin, something
which may be of import occurs to me."

Prince of the North
215
"And what is that?" Gerin asked warily. You never could
tell with Rihwin. Some of his notions were brilliant, oth-
ers crackbrained, and knowing the one bunch from the
other wasn't always easy.
Now he said, "My thought, lord prince, is that these
may in sooth be creatures of the night, wherein we heard
the two of them giving ciy. For does it not stand to rea-
son lhat, having lived an existence troglodytic lo these
many years, perhaps even ages, their eyes, accustomed
as they must be to darkness perpetual, will necessarily
fail when facing the bright and beaming rays of the sun?"
"Troglo—what?" Van said incredulously, no doubt
speaking for a good many of the Foxs warriors.
Gerin was well-read and used to Rihwin's elaborate
southern speech patterns, so he at least understood what
his fellow Fox was talking about "Means 'living in caves,'"
he explained for those who hadn't followed. To Rihwin,
he said, "It's a pretty piece of logic; the only flaw is that
it's not so. Van and I saw the things fighting the temple
guards in broad daylight the morning of the earthquake,
and heard one behind us coming out of Ikos later that
same day. Their eyes work perfectly well in sunlight"
"Oh, a pox!" Rihwin cried "How dreadful to see such
a lovely edifice of thought torn down by hard, brute fact"
He sulked for the next couple of hours.
The Fox detached another team late that afternoon,
and camped with his remaining two teams not long
afterwards. The night passed quietly, much to his relief.
Standing first watch was not so onerous—better that
than being torn from sleep by a horrible screech, at any
rate.
Early the next morning, he gave Rihwin's team their
area to patrol. "Good hunting," he said, clapping his
ekenamesake on the shoulder.
"I thank you, lord Gerin," Rihwin answered, and then,

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Harry Turtledove
"Do you know, there are times when I wonder how wise
I was to cast aside my life of wealth and indolence in the
southlands for an adventurous career with you."
'There are times when I wonder about that, too,"
Gerin said. "A lot of them, as a matter of fact. What
you re saying now is that your heart wouldn't break if
you didn't happen to run across any monsters?"
"Something like that, yes."
"I feel the same way, believe me," Gerin said, "but if
we don't go after them, they'll end up coming after us.
I'd sooner make the fight on my terms, and as far from
my keep as I can."
"I understand the logic, I assure you," Rihwin said.
"The argument takes on a different color, however, when
it moves from the realm of ideas to the point of affecting
one personally. Logicians who cling to abstract concepts
seldom run the risk of being devoured."
"No matter how much they may deserve it," Gerin
added, which won him a glare. He gave Rihwin another
encouraging swat For all the southerner's talk, Gerin
didn't worry about his courage. His common sense was
another matter, or would have been if he'd had any to
speak of.
The Fox led his own team westward. Alarmed at their
advance, a young stag bounded out of a thicket Van
pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked, and let fly, all
in close to the same instant. 'That's a hit!" he shouted,
and hurried forward to where the stag had been. Sure
enough, blood splashed the grass. "Come on, you lugs,"
the outlander said to his companions. "With a trail like
this to follow, a blind man'd be eating venison steaks
tonight."
They ran the deer down about a quarter of an hour
later. It lay panting on the ground, too weak to run any
further; Van's arrow stood in its side, just back of the

Prince of the North
217
heart It tried to struggle to its feet, but could not Its
large brown eyes stared reproachfully at the warriors.
Van stooped beside it. With one swift motion, he jerked
up its head and cut its throat
Together, Van and Gerin tackled the gory job of butch-
ering the stag. "Next stream we come to, I wash," Gerin
declared.
"You may not need to wait for a stream, Captain," the
outlander answered, pointing west The weather had
been fine, but clouds were beginning to roll in off the
distant Orynian Ocean. 'That could be rain."
"So it could." The Fox glowered at the clouds, as if he
could hold them back by sheer force of will. "If it starts
raining, how are we supposed to track anything? By the
gods, how are we even going to keep fires going to help
hold the ghosts at arm's length?" His rising bad temper
even extended to Van. "And why couldn't you have killed
this deer closer to sunset, so we could use its blood as an
offering to the spirits?"
Van stood tall and glared down at him. "Are you going
to complain that the grass is green instead of blue, too,
or will you help me get the meat off this beast?" As usual,
his comrade's bluntness showed Gerin where he'd
stepped over the line from gloomy to carping. He nod-
ded shamefacedly and fell to work.
Raffo said, "I have a thought, lord Gerin." He waited
for the Fox to grunt before he went on, "What say we
post ourselves in hiding around the offal there and see if
it doesn't lure one of the creatures we're seeking? The
stink of blood might draw em."
"We're already farther west than any of the other
teams," Gerin said musingly. "It would mean pushing
on a ways further tomorrow, but why not? As you say,
the lure is good: might as well be a grub on a fish hook.
Aye, we'll try it—but I still want to go and find water."

218
Harry Turtledove
"And I," Van agreed His arms were bloody to the
elbows.
"We'll be back as soon as we may," Gerin said "Set
your ambush, but remember to know what you re shoot-
ing at before you let fly"
He and Van found a creek a couple of furlongs west
of where the stag had fallen. Just as they came up to the
bank, a kingfisher dove into the water, to emerge a
momentlaterwithaminnowinitsbill. Something else—
a frog or a turtle, Gerin didn't notice which—splashed
into die creek from a mossy rock and didn't come out
again.
The stag's blood had already started to dry; scrubbing
it off wasn't easy. "We need some of the soap they make
from fat and ashes south of the High Kirs," Gerin said,
scraping one arm more or less clean with the nails of his
other hand "Maybe I'll try cooking a batch myself when
we get home to Fox Keep."
"The stuffs too harsh for my liking," Van answered
"It takes off the top layer of your hide along with the
dirt." He looked at Gerin. "You have a splash of blood by
your nose, Fox	No, on the other side. There, you
got it"
"Good" Gerin gave a theatrical shiver. 'That water's
cold" He glanced westward again. The dirty gray clouds
were piled higher there. "And before too long, more
than my arms'll get wet That does look like rain com-
ing. The serfs will be glad of it, but I wish it would have
held off till we were under a roof again."
'Weather won't listen, any more'n a woman will," Van
said "Let's head back and see if Raffo's brainstorm came
to anything."
"We'd have heard if it did," Gerin answered. But he
followed Van back toward the rest of their team. They
could hold their ambush till it was time to set up camp

Prince of the North
219
for the night, he decided Turning to his friend, he added,
Tt occurs to me now—too late, of course—that pile of
guts might draw something besides monsters. If a
longtooth decides it wants a meal, I hope they have sense
enough to let it eat its fill."
"You're right," Van said Tm just glad Rihwin's not
with us. He's a fine chap, mind you, but he hasn't the
sense you need to cart guts to a bear, so why should a
longtooth be any different? If you ask me—"
Gerin didn't have the chance to ask Van anything. A
racket broke out ahead, the shouts of men and the hid-
eous shriek they'dheardin the night He jerkedhis sword
out of its sheath, Van pulled the mace from the loop at
his belt on which it hung, and the two of them pounded
toward the tumult as fast as their legs would carry them.
"It's us!" Gerin yelled as he ran. "Don't shoot—we're
not monsters." Whether any of the men was cool-headed
enough to note and heed his cry was an open question.
Because he thought that way, the arrow that hissed
between him and Van neither surprised nor infuriated
him. He had a moment to be glad it had missed them
both, then burst through the bushes into the little open
space where the stag had died and been butchered
Several of his men had already emerged from cover,
too. 'The thing went that way," Raffo exclaimed, point-
ing south. "Weallshotatit,andhititatleasttwice, maybe
three times." What he'd seen suddenly seemed to sink
in. His eyes went wide and staring. "Lord Gerin, forgive
me that I ever doubted your words, I pray you. The
creature is all you said it was, and more and worse
besides."
"Yes, yes," Gerin said impatiently. "Enough jabber-
ing—let's catch it and kill it Lead on, Raffo, since you
know the way."
Looking imperfectly delighted with the privilege he'd

220
Harry Turtledove
been granted, Raffo plunged into the woods. The trail
was easy to follow, blood and tracks both. Before long,
Gerin could hear the monster crashing through the
undergrowth ahead. "The things have weaknesses after
all," Van panted. 'They aren't woodswise like proper
beasts, and they aren't what you'd call fast, either."
"You don't know about that," Gerin answered. "How
fast and careful would you be with two or three arrows
in youP' Van didn't answer, from which Gerin concluded
he'd made his point.
With a roar, the monster sprang out from behind an
elm tree. Four men shot arrows at it Two of those missed;
excitement could ruin anybody's aim. The creature
screamed when the other two struck. But despite them,
and despite the other shafts that pierced it, it rushed at
its pursuers.
Its claws scraped against the bronze scales of Gerin's
corselet. He could feel the force behind them, even if
they did not wound; as he'd guessed, the monster was
stronger than a man. He slashed with his sword. The
thing screamed again.
Van clouted it with his mace. The blow would have
crushed the skull of any man. It knocked the monster to
the ground, but it got up again, blood streaming from
the dreadful wound to the side of its head. Cursing in
half a dozen languages, Van smote it again, even harder
than before. This time it fell and did not rise again.
"Father Dyaus above," said a warrior named Parol
and called Chickpea after a wart by his nose. Gerin's
heart pounded in his chest He felt as if he'd fought
against a Trokme rather than hunted a beast. The
monster's strength, even badly wounded, accounted for
some of that More, though, came from how much the
thing resembled a man.
'Will you look at it?" Raffo said in wondering tones.

Prince of the North
221
'Take the ugliest scoundrel youVe ever seen—old Wolfar,
for instance—and make him five times as ugly as he really
was, every which way, I mean, and youve just about got
this thing here."
"Oh, not quite everything," Parol said. T wouldn't
mind being hung so good, and that's no lie."
That comment aside, Raffo s remark was to the point
Gerin had noted how manlike the monsters were from
the moment he set eyes on them. Then, though, he hadn't
had the leisure to examine one closely; he'd been more
concerned about getting away from Ikos with his life
and Van's and the Sibyl's.
Squat, muscular, hairy—the thing did resemble
Wolfar, he thought, unkind to his old enemy though he'd
killed him five years earlier. But Wolfar, except when he
turned werebeast, had not been armed with claws on
hands and feet both, and even as a werebeast his teeth
had hardly matched the ones filling the monsters long,
formidable jaws.
Above those jaws, its features were also a vicious
parody of mankind's: a low nose with slit nostrils; large
eyes set deep under heavy ridges of bone; thick hair,
almost fur, rising to a crest on top of its head and nearly
disguising how little forehead it had.
'There it is," Gerin said. "Dyaus above only knows
how many of these things are spreading over the
northlands."
"Are they all of the same sort as this one?" Raffo asked
"Some of 'em are likely to be females or bitches or
woman monsters or whatever the right name is," Parol
put in.
'They're ugly enough so it'd only matter to another
monster." Raffo made a gesture of distaste. "What I meant
was, is this one pretty much like the others? You'd get a
different notion of what people were like from Van's

222
Harry Turtledove
corpse and the one I'd like to make out of that weedy
litde jeweler who may have run off with Duren."
"Otes." Gerin heard the growl in his own voice as he
supplied the name. How could he properly search for
his son when catastrophe was overtaking all the
northlands? More and more, he feared he'd never again
see Duren alive. But Raffo's question raised a serious
point. "I haven't had enough experience with them to
answer that, though Ricolfs man said some seemed
smarter than others," he said. "One way or another, we'll
all find out before long."
The warriors trooped back to where they had slain
the deer, leaving the monster's body where it lay. "We
may as well camp, as Raffo said," Van remarked "No
point in pushing further in the litde daylight left."
When evening fell, the ghosts were very quiet. "likely
gorging on the creature's blood," Gerin said. He looked
up to the sky. Math should have been at first quarter,
with Tiwaz and Elleb rising in the early hours after sun-
set, but he saw only clouds. The wind was picking up.
'We'll have trouble gauging watches tonight, and it feels
like rain, to boot"
"I'm not looking forward to tramping along through
the mud," Van said. 'We won't be able to do much in the
way of looking for monsters, either, not with rain mak-
ing it hard for us to see our hands when we stretch our
arms out at full length."
"Aye, you're right," Gerin said morosely "I hadn't
thought so far ahead yet." The gobbet of venison on
which he was gnawing suddenly lost a good deal of its
flavor. How was he supposed to set a perimeter to keep
the monsters out of his holding if they could shamble
past fifty paces away without getting noticed?
For that matter, if other nobles in die northlands didn't
fight them as hard as he would himself, how was he

Prince of the North
223
supposed to keep the monsters out of his holding at all?
The most obvious answer to that was depressing: maybe
he couldn't He hadn't had much hope of besting
Balamung, either, but he'd persisted and come through.
He had to believe he could do the same again.
He stood an early watch, then rolled himself in his
blanket and fell asleep at once in spite of his worries.
When he woke, he looked around in confusion—why
was everything still dark? Then a raindrop landed on the
end of his nose, and another in his hair.
The rain started pattering down in earnest a few min-
utes later. Men swore sleepily and rigged makeshift tents
from their blankets and saplings pressed into service as
tent poles. In spite of those, the rest of the night was
chilly, wet, and miserable.
Day came with rain falling steadily from a leaden sky.
The fire had gone out Some of the venison from the
night before had been cooked along with hard bread, it
made a decent enough breakfast, but not as good as it
would have been, hot and juicy from the flames.
The warriors donned their armor and squelched off
westward. Gerin felt as if he were moving inside a circle
perhaps a bowshot across; the rain curtained away
everything beyond that distance. Every so often, he or
one of his comrades would slip in the mud and get up
covered with it. Little by little, the rain would wash him
clean once more—until he slipped again.
Echoing what Van had said the night before, Raffo
grumbled, "How are we supposed to search in this? We'll
be lucky if we can keep track of ourselves, let alone the
cursed monsters."
Gerin did not answer, for he feared his driver was
right With rain and clouds concealing sun and landmarks,
he wasn't even altogether sure he was still heading west
"Have to wait to see which half of the sky gets dark first,"

224
Harry Turtledove
Van said 'Then we'll have a notion of how to head back
toward the Elabon Way, anyhow, if not just where we'll
strike it"
Raffo said, 'Toor old Rihwin. He could be sitting under
one of those red tile roofs south of the High Kirs that he
never gets tired of talking about, with wenches to fetch
him meat and grapes and wine. And he was silly enough
to trade all that for this life of luxury." He shook himself
like a wet dog to show what he meant
Just thinking of being dry made Gerin wish he were
somewhere other than tramping through the mud He
said, "May the next puddle you step in be over your head"
As if to turn his words into a magic-powered curse, he
waggled his hands in mock passes.
He'd almost stopped paying attention to the circle of
relatively clear vision in which he moved: one piece of
damp, dreary ground seemed much like the next Look-
ing Where he put his feet so he wouldn't go into a puddle
over his head himself struck him as more important than
anything else.
Then Raffo gasped, half in horror and half in amaze-
ment The sound was plenty to jerk Gerin's head up.
Splashing through the wet grass and mud came a band
of eight or ten monsters.
They spied Gerin's men at about the same moment
as Raffo saw them. A bulky male, evidently the leader
of the band, swept out his arm to point at the war-
riors. He shouted something; through the rain, Gerin
could not tell whether it was real words or just an ani-
mal ciy. Whatever it was, the rest of the creatures got
the idea. With hoarse roars, they charged the Fox's
men.
In such dreadful weather, bows were useless. Gerin
stooped to pick up a stone the size of a goose egg. He
flung it at the oncoming monsters, then yelled, "Out

Prince of the North
225
sword and at them!" A moment later, his own blade slid
from its scabbard
A stone flew past his head. One of the creatures, at
any rate, had wit enough to think of it as a weapon. Then
the fight was at close quarters, the savagery and strength
of the monsters well matched against the armor and
bronze weapons Gerins warriors carried.
With his long, heavy spear, better made for use afoot
than from a chariot, Van had an advantage over his mon-
strous foes: he could thrust at them long before they
closed with him. But when he sank the leaf-shaped point
deep into the belly of one screaming creature, another
seized the spearshaft and wrenched it out of his hands.
He shouted in shock and dismay; long used to being
stronger than any man he faced, having an opponent
who could match him in might came as a jolt.
The monster dropped the spear; it preferred its natu-
ral weapons to those made by art. But when it sprang at
Van, he stove in its head with an overhand blow from his
mace. He needed no second stroke; the fight with the
creature the day before had warned him to put all his
power into the first one.
Gerin got only tiny glimpses of his friends fight—he
had troubles of his own. The monster that faced him
was female, but no less unlovely and fierce on account
of that He felt as if he were fighting a wolf bitch or
female longtooth, and knew none of the hesitation he
might have felt against a woman warrior.
He slashed at the monster. It skipped back. It knew
the sword was dangerous to it, then. The Fox went
after it, slashed once more. This time the monster
ducked under the blade and rushed him. He got his
shield up just in time to keep it from tearing out his
throat. It was very strong; when it tried to pull the
shield off his arm, he wondered if his right shoulder

226	Harry Turtledove
would come out of its socket. The shield strap held,
but barely.
Even in the pouring rain, the monster stank with a
reek halfway between the musky smell of a wild beast
and a human body that had never been bathed. Some-
thing else was there, too, a musty smell, perhaps the
residue of long years—of coundess generations—of life
underground.
The Fox slashed again, and scored a bleeding line
across the creatures rib cage. It squalled in fury and
stopped trying to tear away his shield But it did not turn
and flee, as a wounded animal likely would have done.
Instead, it went back to the attack, this time rushing at
Gerin and knocking him off his feet, then springing on
him as he lay in the mud
Again his shield saved him, fending the monster away
from his face and neck. He hissed in pain as its claws
rakeddown his arm. But, though he was untalonedhim-
self, his sandals had bronze hobnails to help him grip
the ground He kicked at the monster, and hurt it again.
He dropped his sword; it was too unwieldy for this
work. Had he not been able to get at his dagger, or had
he dropped it while yanking it from its sheath on his belt,
he would have died. As it was, he stabbed the monster
again and again.
It shrieked, first shrilly, then with a bubbling under-
tone as bloody froth burst from its mouth and nose. For
once, Gerin wished he were not lefthanded; his blows to
the right side of the creature s body had pierced a lung,
but not its heart Now, though, it wanted escape. He
stuck out a leg in a wresder s trick and tripped it when it
tried to flee. It went down with a splash.
He half leaped, half rolled onto its back, stabbing again
and again in an ecstasy of loathing, fury, and fear. The
monster was as tenacious of life as any wild beast, that

Prince of the North
227
was certain. He'd put enough holes in it to make a sieve
before it finally stopped trying to break free.
He didn't knowwhether it was dead. He didn't care—
it was out of the fight for a good long while. He snatched
up his sword again, scrambled to his feet, and hurried to
give aid to his comrades.
Several of them were down, as were most of the mon-
sters. Raffo and Parol Chickpea together battled the big
male that had led the pack. It sprang on Parol. He
screamed hoarsely. Gerin used the sword like a spear,
stabbing the monster from behind. It wailed and tried
to turn on him. Raffo's blade met its thick neck with a
meaty ckunnk. Blood spurted. Head half severed, the
monster pitched forward onto its face and lay still.
When their leader fell, the couple of creatures still on
their feet gave up the fight and fled. Gerin's warriors did
not pursue them; they had enough to do finishing the
monsters on the ground and seeing to their own
wounded. One man was dead, Parol's driver, a likable
young fellow called Dekmp Narrag's son. Several oth-
ers had bites and slashes of greater or less severity. Bind-
ing them up in the rain wasn't easy.
"You're bleeding, Fox," Van remarked
Gerin looked down at his clawed arm. "So I am. I
hope we come to a village before long, so I can pour
beer into those cuts and cover them over with lard If
they're anything like cat scratches, they're liable to fes-
ter."
"You're right about that." Van looked over the little
battlefield "Well, we beat 'em back. They're not as tough
as armored warriors. That's something, anyhow."
"Something, aye." Now that he wasn't fighting for his
life, the Fox noticed how much that arm hurt "But I'd
not want to be a peasant, even one with a mattock or
scythe, and have one of those things spring at me from

228
Harry Turtledove
out of the woods. If I were lucky and hit it a good lick, it
might run off. But if I missed that first stroke, I'd never
get a chance to make a second one."
"You're right about that, too," Van said. After a
moment's reflective pause, he added, "One of the ones
that got away fled north."
"I saw it go. I was trying not to think about it," Gerin
said wearily. 'That's one past us, certain sure. I wonder
how many more there are that we've never seen. Even
the one is too many."
"And you're right about that," Van said. "If you're so
bloody right all the time, why are we in this mess?" Gerin
had no good answer for him.

VII
Rihwin walked mournfully through the courtyard, a
bandage plastered over his left ear and tied round his
head to hold it in place. "Can't you take that off yet?"
Gerin asked him. "We've been back here ten days now,
so you can't still be bleeding, and the wound didn't fes-
ter, or you'd have taken sick long since."
"Oh, I could, if that were all there was to it," Rihwin
answered. 'The sad truth is, though, that I'm uglier with-
out the bandage than with it."
Gerin clapped a hand to his forehead. "You're vainer
than a peacock, is what you are. If you hadn't worn that
gold hoop in your ear, the monster down in Bevon's hold-
ing never would have had the chance to hook a claw on
it and tear it out And a torn ear's not the worst thing in
the world, anyhow. I've seen plenty of men with worse,
and that's a fact"
Rihwin's mobile features twisted into a dolorous frown.
"But my earlobe has shriveled up and withered. In the
southlands, surgeons had ways of repairing such wounds,
for those who could bear the pain. Many did, as a ruined
ear does one's appearance no good. Henceforward, I'm
liable to be styled Rihwin One-Ear, not Rihwin the Fox.
But who in this benighted country is familiar with such
techniques? Not a soul, unless I'm much mistaken."
"I fear you're right," Gerin said. 'Tour southern sur-
geons may have had practice at such work, but we don't
wear earrings here." He paused a moment, his curiosity
awakening. "How do the southern surgeons go about
their work with ears, anyhow?"
229

230
Harry Turtledove
"First they ply the patient well with wine and poppy
juice, to dull his senses as much as they can," Rihwin
answered 'They also have his friends hold him, mind
you—I've done that duty a time or two. Then they cut
loose a flap of flesh from behind the ruined ear, open up
what remains of the earlobe so its raw and bloody and
sew the two together. After they grow into one—for they
will, once they exchange blood—the surgeon cuts off
the base of the flap and behold! One has a new ear, per-
haps not so fine as the original article but far better than
the miserable nub I have left"
Gerin eyed him speculatively. "Do you know, my fel-
low Fox, in my years up here on the frontier, I've done
my share of rough healer's work: drawing arrows, stitch-
ing wounds, setting bones, what have you. The men I've
treated haven't done any worse than anyone else's
patients. If you like, I might try to rebuild your ear for
you."
Rihwin went into a sudden and hasty retreat, holding
his hands out before him as if to fend off Gerin. "I thank
you, but no. Not only do you lack some of the essentials
(for where will you find wine and poppy juice here in
the northlands?), but, meaning no disrespect, you have
neither witnessed nor essayed the procedure in ques-
tion."
"But you described the procedure so clearly," Gerin
said, half to alarm Rihwin, half in real disappointment
"I feel as if I could give you something better than the
stub you have now. If I were to sketch in ink the shape of
a proper earlobe here on the side of your neck—"
Rihwin retreated further. "No thank you," he repeated
"Now, I grant that i cannot wear a bandage forever, but if
I were to let my hair grow long, in half a year it would con-
ceal the mutilation, thus obviating the need for surgery."
"I suppose you could do that," Gerin admitted "Why

Prince of the North
231
didn't you think of it a while ago, instead ofwhining about
how your looks were ruined forever?"
"I didn't have such incentive to devise an alternative
until this moment," Rihwin answered with a sheepish
grin. "Compared to the prospect of being carved upon
by an inept and inexperienced butcher—again, mean-
ing no disrespect—going through life with but one ear-
lobe suddenly seems much less unattractive." Rihwin
was self-absorbed, but not stupid. He fixed Gerin with a
suspicious stare. "And you, sirrah, manipulated me into
coming up with that alternative."
"I did?" Gerin was the picture of innocence. "All I
wanted was to try my hand at surgery."
"I know," Rihwin said darkly. "I am certain the proce-
dure would have been quite interesting—for you. And
for me—how much I should have enjoyed it—is another
matter altogether."
"If you hadn't wanted something done about it, you
shouldn't have described how to do something about it
in such loving detail," Gerin said
"Believe me, my fellow Fox, I shall not be guilty of
repeating the error," Rihwin said. "I suppose you should
have been as eager to follow through had I suggested
you repair the ear by thaumaturgic means."
"Now, there's an idea!" Gerin exclaimed "You know,
that really ought to be within my power, such as it is. It
wouldn't involve much, just a straightforward applica-
tion of the law of similarity. And you still have your right
ear intact to serve as an exemplar. What could be more
similar to a man's left ear than his own right? Let's go
over to that litde shack of mine and—•"
Rihwin fled
Selatre read, "In this year, the fifth of his reign, the
Emperor Forenz, the second of that name" —she paused

232
Harry Turtledove
to sound out a word she didn't run across as often as the
usual opening formula of a chronicles annual entry; she
read that with confidence— "increased the tribute on
the Sithonian cities. And the men of Kortys gathered
together and thought how best they might revel—"
Gerin blinked and leaned over to check the scroll in
front of her. 'That's 'rebel,"' he murmured.
She looked at the passage again. "Oh. So it is." She let
out a small, embarrassed laugh. "It does change the
meaning, doesn't it?"
"Just a bit" Gerin started to reach and to touch her
hand in added praise, but thought better of it. Selatre
made little fuss over accidental contact these days, but
she remained unhappy about anything that wasn't an
accident. He went on, "Even with the slip, you're doing
marvelously well. You've picked up your letters as fast as
anyone I've ever taught"
"Letters are simple," she said "Seeing how they fit
together and make words is harder." She looked around
the room that served Castle Fox as a library. "And so
many words there are to read! I'd never imagined."
Now Gerin laughed, bitterly. "When I look at them, I
see how few there are. It's a good collection for the
northlands—for all I know, it may be the only collection
in the northlands—but it's a chip of wood drifting on the
sea of ignorance. I studied down at the City of Elabon; I
know whereof I speak."
"As may be," Selatre said. "When Biton abandoned
me, I thought I would be empty of knowledge, of the
feeling of knowledge passing through me, forevermore.
This is a different sort from what the god gave directly,
but it's worthy in its own way. For that I thank you."
She hesitated for a moment, then set her hand on top
of his, very lightly, before she jerkedit back. Gerin stared
at her. Then a snarl of rage, a noise like ripping canvas,

Prince of the North
233
jerked his gaze to the doorway. Fand had chosen that
moment to walk by. Hie fury on her face was frighten-
ing. Gerin waited for her to scream athim, but she stalked
away instead That worried him more than her usual
firestorm would have.
Tm sorry," Selatre said. 'Tour leman does not favor
me, and Ive gone and made matters worse."
"Not that much worse," he answered. "Things have
been going, mm, imperfectly well for a while already."
She sighed and said, "I must confess, I don't altogether
understand If things between you and her have not gone
well, as you tell me, why do you still seek her
bedchamber?"
He felt his face heat. From anyone else, that question
would have got nothing more than a sharp, None of your
affair. With Selatre, though, he tried to be as honest as
he could Maybe that sprang from lingering awe and
respect for the oracular role she'd once had, maybe just
because, by her nature and not Biton's, she called forth
such honesty. After a little thought, he said, "Because
what goes on in the bedchamber, as you say, is one of
the few good things we have left between us. Has been
one of the good things, I should say."
Selatre caught the distinction. "Has been but is no
more, do you mean?"
"I suppose I do." The Fox gnawed on the inside of his
lower lip. "You've seen children balance a board or a
branch on a rock and make a game out of going up and
down, up and down?"
"Of course," she answered. "I've played that game
myself. Haven't you?"
He nodded, then went on, "Van and I have played it
with Fand, these past couple of years. But staying in
balance, the two of us with one woman, isn't easy, any
more than keeping the board in balance on a stone is.

234
Harry Turtledove
And I seem to be the one whos falling off." He laughed,
ruefully but without much anger. "I shouldn't be sur-
prised that's happening, not when Fand has a temper
like boiling oil. I ought to be surprised we've kept the
balance as long as this."
"You would have kept it longer, if not for me," Selatre
said. "She thinks you're out to have me take her place."
"I know she does," Gerin said. 'That isn't what I
intended when I brought you here to Castle Fox."
She studied him. For a moment, he thought the fath-
omless wisdom of Biton still looked out through her eyes.
Then he realized the wisdom he saw was her own, which
made it no less intimidating. "Do you intend that now?"
she asked. Even if he'd intended to evade, she didn't
make it easy; though she hardly had her letters, she used
words with a precision the rhetoricians down in the City
of Elabon might have envied.
"By Biton or Dyaus—whichever you'd rather,
Selatre—I swear I do not want you to take Fands place
in my life," he answered steadily. "If you think I am in
the habit of swearing false oaths, you can best judge my
likely fate in the world to come."
"Only a fool mocks the gods, and whatever else you
may be, lord Gerin, you are no fool," Selatre said "For
that, and for the truth you've shown me thus far, I will
believe you."
"And for that I thank you," the Fox said.
"Shall we return to the chronicle?' Selatre asked.
"There, with the words before us on the parchment, we
have less room for misunderstanding."
'That is probably a good idea." Gerin listened to her
read Every sentence seemed to come with more confi-
dence than the one before it Now that she'd grasped
the principle, she was showing she could apply it Some
men took years to reach the place where she'd come in

Prince of the North
235
moonturns. Some men gave up in dismay and never got
there at all.
He was proud of her, and pleased with himself for
having guessed so well where she would fit into the life
of Fox Keep and the human fabric of the holding as a
whole. She and Fand didn't fit; Van had foreseen that
more clearly than he had himself. And Van and Fand
still seemed to be getting along as well as Fand ever got
on with anyone.
Under the usual busy stir of his thoughts, Gerin
remembered something else as well—Selatre had
reached out and taken his hand. He didn't know how
much that meant; he didn't know if it meant anything.
Of one thing he was sure: he wanted to find out
Rain plashed down on Casde Fox, filling puddles in
the courtyard and turning the ditch around the palisade
to the muddy beginning of a moat Harvest lay far enough
ahead for the peasants to look on the storm with relief
rather than alarm.
In any other year, that would have made Gerin do the
same. Now a cloud-filled sky and curtains of water kick-
ing up myriad splashes everywhere only raised his hack-
les; the wet weather reminded him too vividly of the
storm that had rolled through the day his band of war-
riors fought the pack of monsters.
Planting his feet with care on the slippery steps, he
mounted to the palisade and peered south. He could
see the peasant village near the casde. The broad
thatched roofs of the huts there would keep most of the
rain away from the walls of watde and daub, but he knew
serfs would be patching them with fresh mud after the
downpour rolled away eastward.
Beyond the village, at the edge of visibility through
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236
Harry Turtledove
them, see into each windfall and cave, under each fallen
tree. He feared monsters sheltered in some of them. He
did not have the men he would have needed to form a
cordon around his entire border, but without such a cor-
don, how was he supposed to hold off the creatures?
He was thinking so hard, he did not notice anyone
coming up to join him until footfalls jarred the timbers
beside him. Van wore a conical hat of woven straw that
kept the rain off his face. 'Wondering whats out there,
Captain?" the outlander asked
"I know what's out there," Gerin answered glumly.
"I'm wondering how close it is and how soon we'll have
to worry about it right here. But as a matter of fact, when
you asked I was wishing bronze were cheaper."
"Begging your pardon, Fox, but I have to tell you I
don't follow that one," Van said
"If bronze were cheaper—if we had more copper and
especially more tin—we could afford to make more
weapons. Then the peasants could have 'em, and that
would give them a better chance of killing the monsters
instead of getting eaten."
"Mm, likely you re right" Van's features turned blunter
and harder as he frowned in thought. "But even if you
are, I'd lay you five to one that a lot of your vassal barons
wouldn't fall in love with the idea of giving their serfs
swords and spears and helms and cuirasses."
"For fear the arms would get turned on them instead
of the monsters, you mean?" Gerin asked. Van nodded
So did the Fox. "Not many of my vassals need to worry
overmuch, I think; they know I don't put up with some
of the things that go on in other holdings. But if the idea
ever spread through the northlands, I'll not deny a good
many barons would have cause to fear their peasants
would revolt I can think of half a dozen I'd rise against
in an instant if someone put a sword in my hand"

Prince of the North
237
"Oh, aye, more than that" Vans big head bobbed up
and down again. "But here's a question for you, Fox:
suppose you put swords and spears in the hands of a lot
of your serfs. When the time comes to pay the dues they
owe you, aren't they going to go after your collectors
instead of handing over the grain and ale and such?
They'll be protecting themselves, so why should they go
on paying you to do it for them?"
"That's—a good question," Gerin said slowly. 'They
all turn into villagers like the ones who tried to waylay
us, is that what you're saying?"
'That's just what I'm saying," Van agreed.
Gerin thought for a while. "Do you know, it's very
likely they would," he said at last "The way of life we
have here looks as it does because bronze is so scarce
and costly. Peasants can't afford to get their hands on
arms and armor: not enough bronze to go around. Things
would be different if there were."
"Better? Worse?"
"Damn me to the five hells if I know," Gerin answered
"But different they'd surely be. Like those footholders
Duin the Bold came up with a few years ago, before he
died in the fight against Balamung: what with everything
else that's gone on since, I haven't had the chance to
explore what all they're good for, but it's plain they make
riding a horse and staying on its back a lot easier than
that ever was before. If you can really fight from horse-
back, what point to chariots?"
"Maybe you can fight from horseback," Van said.
"You're a good-sized man, aye, but alongside me you're
a stripling. The horse that could bear my weight, espe-
cially in armor" —he slapped his broad, bronze-covered
chest— "hasn't been foaled yet. If it's not the chariot,
I'm a foot soldier."
'That's not the point," Gerin said. "Chariots are like

238
Harry Turtledove
any of the rest of our weapons; they're scarce and hard
to come by Moremen could be warriors if they just had
to lay hold of a horse and some arms rather than a team
and a car to go with it."
'Then you dbest start showing them those footholders
and what to do with em," the outlander answered "Were
going to need as many warriors as we can muster, and
that soon, too."
"I know—sooner than I can train them into being
proper horsemen, the more so as I'm nowhere near a
proper horseman myself." Gerin sighed "If only that
monster ofBakmungs hadn't killed Duin when he lacked
out. Our little pepperpot would have had all of us riding
whether we wanted to or not"
"He rode ideas even harder than you do, and that's a
fact," Van said "You're better at picking the ones to ride,
though; I give you so much."
"Such generosity," Gerin said in tones far drier than the
weather. "Suppose I did teach a good many men, barons
and peasants both, to ride and fight from horseback..."
His voice trailed away Actions had inevitable conse-
quences; on that philosophers and historians agreed The
trick was to reason out what they might be before you
acted, instead of getting caught by surprise later.
His best guess was that large numbers of warriors on
horseback would prove as revolutionary as large num-
bers of bronze weapons in the hands of the serfs. If one
lord in the northlands succeeded in forming a good-sized
force of cavalry as opposed to chariotiy, the rest would
have to imitate him or go under. Since a man wouldn't
need as many resources to maintain a horse as he would
for a team and chariot, vassal barons' holdings could
shrink until, after a couple of generations, it might be
hard to tell a poor baron from a prosperous peasant
Gerin had been teaching bright serfs their letters. Did

Prince of the North
239
he really want to arm them, too? Was he ready to unleash
more great change on a land that had seen too much too
fast of late?
For the moment, the decision was out of his hands.
The monsters were forcing the pace of change, not he.
But if they were put down at last—
Van cleared his throat, bringing the Fox's thoughts
back to the here and now. The oudander said, "Captain,
what is it you've done to put Fand in such a swivet? Last
night she was going on about the sheep's eyes you were
casting at Selatre till I all but had to hit her over the head
with an ale jar to make her leave off."
"I've done nothing of the sort," Gerin said indignandy
"I've spent time with her, aye, but I have to if she's to
learn her letters and be able to go through the books in
the library and find out what's in them. You hit the mark
there at the start—having Selatre here hasn't set right
with Fand, and she blames me, not you, that Selatre's
here."
"She said you were pawing Selatre when she walked
by the library the other day," Van said, doubt in his voice.
"Not that I'd care to believe Fand over you, mind, but
she says she saw it with her own eyes."
"She didn't," Gerin insisted. "You think Selatre would
stay here for a moment if I tried pawing her? As a mat-
ter of fact, she put her hand on mine, not the other way
round."
"Selatre touched you ?" Van said, giving the Foxa sharp
stare. "Honh!" The noise was not a word, but carried a
world of meaning nonetheless.
Gerin wished his friend were not so tall; it made try-
ing to look down his nose at Van likelier to give him a
crick in the neck than to overawe the oudander. He said,
"Fand's hardly speaking to me anymore. Are you going
to start in and speak for her?'

240
Harry Turtledove
"Not a chance," Van said "Ever since I got too big for
my mother to tell me what to do, I've lived just as I
pleased, and I'm a great believer in letting everyone else
do the same thing. But if you think I'll pretend to be
blind to what goes on around me, you can think again
on that, too."
The Fox rolled his eyes. "Do you know why she
touched me? She was glad I'd taught her her letters;
they fill up some of the emptiness she feels now that
Biton speaks to her no more. Thats all."
'That may be why she says she did it, but the fact
remains—she did it, she didn't have to do it, and she
hasn't done it with anybody else," Van says. "Me, I'd say
that means it's not all, not even close to all."
'That's—" Gerin felt fury rising in him. He seldom
lost his temper, but results were memorable when he
did. But before he exploded like a tightly stoppered pot
left too long in the fire, he paused to wonder why he was
getting so angry so fast. When he did, the anger evapo-
rated "That's—possible," he said in a small voice.
Van studied him with approval. "You're honest with
yourself, that I will say for you. And suppose it's not just
possible but so? What will you do then?"
"You ask good questions. That's a better question than
I have an answer for right now." One corner of Gerin's
mouth quirked up in a wry smile. Suppose Selatre was
coming to care for him? Could he come to care for her
in return? After falling in love with Elise and then watch-
ing that love crumble to ashes, he wondered if he dared
let himself become vulnerable to a woman again. In some
ways, going into battle against the monsters was easier.
There, at least, he knew what he had to do to come
through unhurt
Van said, "Mind you, Fox, I have nothing against the
lass. Too quiet for my taste, but I'm a roisterer born and

Prince of the North
241
you're not But I do want to know you're doing what
you're doing with your eyes open."
"I don't even know," Gerin said heavily "I tell you this
much, though: just as you find Selatre too quiet, a couple
of years of life with Fand have left my ears ringing, and
that's the truth."
"Ah, it's not so bad," Van said. "She shouts, you shout
back. After the yelling's done, you futter a couple of times
and all's right till the next go-round."
"We've done that more than once, she and I," Gerin
said. 'Too many times more than once, as a matter of
fact That sort of thing gets wearing in a hurry, at least
for me."
"Ah, Fox, you pay fancy prices for pepper and cloves
and the gods only know what all else to make your food
taste interesting, and you want the rest of your life dull
as oatmeal porridge without even salt"
"My food won't stick a knife in me if it doesn't like the
way I've cookedit," Gerin retorted "And I wouldn't mind
the rest of my life turning dull for a while. These past
few years, what with one thing and another, it's been too
bloody lively to suit me."
Van yawned an enormous, sarcastic yawn.
Nettled, Gerin said, "For that matter, you great
barrelbrained oaf, I've never heard you speak Fand so
fair. Here's a warning: if she throws me over, she'll aim
her whole self straight at you. Are you ready for that?"
"I can handle her," Van said, confidence throbbing in
his voice. Gerin wondered if he was as smart as he
thought he was.
A peasant brought the Fox the news he'd been dread-
ing. The fellow arrived in the back of a chariot along
with Notker the Bald and his driver. He looked stunned,
not only at traveling that way and faring so far from his

242
Harry Turtledove
home but also, Gerin thought, for deeper reasons: his
own face might have borne that expression of disbeliev-
ing amazement just after the ground at Ikos stopped
shaking.
"Its happened?" the Fox asked Notker.
"Aye, lord Gerin," his vassal returned "This fellow
here made it to my keep day before yesterday from his
village next to the lands of Capuel the Flying Frog. I
thought youd best listen to his story, so I fetched him
hither." His lined face made him look even more wor-
ried than he sounded.
"Monsters?" Gerin asked
"Monsters, aye, and worse," Notker said Gerin had
not imagined there could be worse. Notker pointed to
the serf he'd brought to Fox Keep. 'This here is Mannor
Trout, lord—he's the best fisherman in his village, which
is how he got his ekename and likely why he's alive today"
He nudged Mannor. 'Tell the lord prince the tale you
told me."
The peasant brushed a lock of dark hair back from
where it had flopped down onto his forehead "Aye, lord
Notker," he said in rustic accents. His voice rang oddly
flat, as if he held all emotion back from it to keep from
having to remember the terror he'd known. "My village
is southwest of here, you know, close to the border of
your holding, and—"
"I know," Gerin said impatiently. "I rode that way not
long ago, in search of my son Duren. I don't recall see-
ing you, though."
"You didn't, nor I you, though the talk of you going
through lasted for days," Mannor said "I was off fishing
then, too." He drew himself up with pride, or at least its
memory. "I bring in enough from the streams that they
don't begrudge me staying out of the fields. They didn't,
I mean." He shivered; that passionless tone he'd been

Prince of the North
243
using threatened to flee, leaving him naked against what-
ever it shielded him from.
"So you were at the stream the day I passed through
your village, and you were at the stream this other day,
the one you're going to tell me about," Gerin said, want-
ing to move the tale along without making Mannor face
more than he could stand.
The serf nodded That lock of hair fell onto his fore-
head again. This time he let it stay He said, T was hav-
ing a day to beat all days, if you know what I mean, lord
prince. Every time I stuck a new worm or a grub on my
hook, Id catch me a big tasty one, I would. Weren't much
past noon when I had me 'bout as much as I felt like
hauling back. Reckoned I'd eat some, trade me some to
other folk, smoke me some for winter, and salt down the
rest: we've a good lick close by, we do."
"All well and good," Gerin said. "So you were carry-
ing your fish back to the village—through the woods, is
that right?"
<4Just like you say," Mannor agreed. "I get myself inside
maybe two furlongs of the fields and hear the most hor-
rible racket you ever put ear on in all your born days.
Wolves howling, longtooths caterwauling—put 'em all
together and they ain't a patch on this. I drop my fish
and run up to see what I can see."
"Monsters in the village." Germ's voice was as flat as
the peasant's.
"Monsters, aye, but that's not all," Mannor said There
was monsters, but there was Trokmoi, too, and they was
workin' together to wreck and kill, Dyaus drop me into
the hottest hell if I lie."
Notker nodded, his face now even grimmer: he'd
already heard the tale. Gerin stared in horrified dismay.
He'd imagined a great many catastrophes; he was good
at it. But never in his blackest nightmares had he dreamt

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Harry Turtledove
the creatures from the caves under Bitons temple
would—or could—make common cause with his human
foes.
"How do you mean, working together?" he demanded
of Mannor. "Were the Trokmoi using the monsters for
hunting dogs, to drive people out for destruction?"
Adiatunnus was clever, no way around that Perhaps he
or one of his men had figured out a way to tame the
monsters.
But the serf shook his head. "Some of the things, they
was just goin' around bitrn whatever they could get their
teeth into, like they was wolves or summat like that But
some, they was canyin swords and spears and even
talkm some kind of growly talk with the red mustaches.
They were uglier than the woodsrunners, but otherwise
I didn't see much to choose between 'em."
"Can you confirm this?" Gerin asked Notker. It wasn't
so much that he disbelieved Mannor as that he so much
wanted to disbelieve him.
His vassal said, "No, lord prince. As soon as I heard
the story, I figured you had to give ear, too. But do you
think it's one he'd make up?" The Fox didn't, but he
wished Notker hadn't made him realize he didn't
Almost unnoticed by both of them, Mannor went on,
'Two o' the things, they caught my little boy. They was
squabbling over him like dogs over a bone till a Trokme,
he seen what was happening and he takes his axe and
chops the body in half." Quietly, hopelessly, he began to
weep.
"Here," Gerin said, tasting the uselessness of words.
"Here." He put an arm around the serfs shoulder.
Mannor's tears soaked hot through his tunic. He held
the man, and held his own face even harder, to keep
from breaking down and blubbering along with him.
Hearing what had happened to the serf s son reminded

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245
him all too vividly of all the things that might have hap-
pened to Duren. That he did not know which—if any—
had befallen the boy only let him exercise his ability to
envision disasters.
"What do we do with him, lord Gerin?" Notker asked
The Fox waited until Mannor had cried himself out,
then said, "First thing to do is get him good and drunk."
He pointed the serf toward the entrance to the long hall
of the keep. "Go on in there, Mannor; tell them I said to
give you all the ale you can drink." He shoved Mannor
in the direction of the doorway; the man went as if he
had no will of his own left. Gerin turned back to Notker.
"We have to see if he can live with this now. He has to
see for himself, too. It wont be easy; he'll carry scars no
less than if he'd been wounded in war, poor fellow."
"You know about that, lord prince," Notker said. The
Fox nodded. These days, he had no family left his father
and brother slain, his wife run off, and his son stolen.
As he'd grown used to doing, he resolutely shoved that
grief andworiyto the back ofhis mind. More immediately
urgent worries took precedence. He said to Notker, "The
Trokmoi and monsters didn't assail your keep?"
"No, lord," Notker answered "First I heard of them
coming over the border from Capuel's—Dyaus knows
why we still call it that, with nobody in charge there these
past years—was when Mannor brought word The gods
only know what's happened since, mind you, but you'd
reckon raiders and yon creatures could move faster than
a grief-crazy serf if they had a mind to."
'That you would" Gerin rubbed his chin in perplexity.
Notker shared that perplexity. "Not like what you'd
look for from the woodsrunners, neither. The Trokmoi,
when they hit you, they mostly hit you like a man going
into a woman: they want to get in as deep as they can as
fast as they can."

246
Harry Turtledove
'True enough." Gerin made an abstracted clucking
noise, then suddenly held up one finger. T have it, I
think. Adiatunnus is a sneaky beggar, and smart, too—
though not half so smart as he thinks he is. He's cobbled
up some kind of deal with these creatures, but he doesn't
know how well it's going to work. So he thinks he'll try it
out small at first, and if it does what he hopes, why then
he'll strike harder the next time. How does that sound to
you?"
"Don't know if it's true," Notker said after some
thought of his own. "Makes decent sense, though."
"In a way, it does," the Fox said "But only in a way—
that's why I called Adiatunnus half-smart. Now I'm
warned He'll be gathering his forces, collecting more
monsters, doing whatever he thinks he needs to do. And
do you know what I aim to do in the meanwhile?"
"What's that, lord?" Notker asked.
"I aim to hit him first."
The chariot hit a bump. Gerin's legs kept him smoothly
upright without conscious thought on his part. "How
am I supposed to administer my holding if I'm too busy
fighting to pay heed to anything else?" he asked
Van had adjusted as automatically as the Fox. He
glanced over and answered, "I don't know the answer to
that one, but let me give you one in return: how are you
supposed to administer your holding if the Trokmoi and
the monsters swarm out and take it away from you?"
'There you have me," Gerin said. "If I can't keep it, it
isn't truly mine. But if I can't run it, it's hardly worth
keeping." Schooling south of the High Kirs had left him
fond of forming such paradoxes.
Van cut through this one with the ruthless economy
he usually displayed: "If you still hold on to it, you can
always fix it later. If it's lost, it's gone for good."

Prince of the North
247
"Youre right, of course," Gerin said, but the admis-
sion left him dissatisfied Endless warfare would hurl his
holding back into barbarism faster than anything else he
could think of. But, as Van had said, everything else
turned irrelevant if he didn't win each war.
Along with his regathered host of vassals, he rolled
southwest down the same road he'd taken to Adiatunnus'
border after Duren disappeared. This time, he wouldn't
stop and exchange polite chitchat with the Trokme
chieftain's border guards. He'd go after Adiatunnus—
and his monstrous allies—with all the might he had
Notker the Bald brought his chariot up alongside
Germs. He pointed ahead. 'There's my keep, off to one
side. At our pace, we'll make the village before sunset"
"So we will, and then roll through it," Gerin said As
soon as the sun had started to swing down toward the
horizon from its high point in the sky, he'd ordered a
couple of chariots out two furlongs ahead of the rest
The Trokmoi were often too impatient to set proper
ambushes, and he suspected the monsters Adiatunnus
had taken as allies would be even less skilled in the strata-
gems of war.
A puff of breeze from the west brought a whiff of
something sickly sweet Raffo turned and wrinkled his
nose. "Phew! What's that stink?"
"Dead meat," Van answered.
The Fox nodded "We're coming up on the village
Mannor Trout got out of, or what's left of it Mannor
didn't lie, that's certain."
The closer they got, the worse the smell grew. Gerin
coughed The stink of carrion always made fear and rage
bubble up in him: it called to mind the aftermath of too
many fights, too many horrors.
The serf village, though, was worse than he'd expected
He'd been braced for sprawled, bloated corpses and

248
Harry Turtledove
charred ruins, and they were there. He'd looked for the
livestock to be run off or slain, and it was. He'd known
the crows would rise in a black cloud and the foxes slink
off into the woods when he disturbed them, and they
did.
But he hadn't reckoned on so many of the pathetic
corpses looking as they'd been mostly devoured before
the scavengers started on them. His stomach did a slow
flip-flop. He should have realized the monsters wouldn't
be fussy about where they got their meat Intellectually,
he had realized it The implications, though, had escaped
him.
Van said, "I had thought to round up a hen or two
here, to give to the ghosts come sundown and to cook
up for us, too. But now I'm going to let that go. The gods
alone know what these hens have been pecking at since
the Trokmoi and their little fiiends went home."
Germ's stomach lurched again. "Reasoned like a phi-
losopher," he said Anthropophagy, even at one remove,
was worth fighting shy of. A few minutes later, a pig stuck
its head out of the bushes. No one shot at it. It was even
likelier than any surviving village chickens to have fed
on the bodies of those who had raised it.
After making sure no life remained in the village, Gerin
waved his arm. The chariots rattled on toward the bor-
der with the holding of Capuel the Flying Frog. How
much of that now lay in the hands of the Trokmoi and
the monsters was anyone's guess. Few men said much
about what they'd seen in the clearing, but a new, grim
sense of purpose informed the force. They'd collect the
payment due, and more.
Just before sunset, a cock pheasant made the mistake
of coming out from the woods onto a meadow to feed.
Its ring-necked head came up in alarm when it saw, or
perhaps heard, the chariots on the road It began to run

Prince of the North
249
rapidly, then leaped into the air, its wings thuttering.
Arrows hissed toward it One of them, either cleverly
aimed or luckier than the rest, brought the bird tum-
bling back to earth. "Well shot!" Gerin called. "Not only
will it feed the ghosts, it'll feed some of us, too."
"Aye, a pheasants tasty, no doubt of that," Van said
"Me, though, I'd sooner hang it a while to let it get prop-
erly ripe before I cook it."
"Yes, I've seen you do that at Fox Keep once or twice,"
Gerin said "I don't care for my meat flyblown, thank
you veiy kindly. Besides, we've no time for such fripper-
ies tonight. Bringing it down at all strikes me as a good
enough omen."
"Flyblown's not the point," Van replied. "Bringing out
the full flavor is. But you're right about today: we just
pluck it and gut it and put it over the flames or bake it in
clay."
"Fuel for the fire," the Fox agreed. "It'll help us keep
going. And then we'll get into Adiatunnus' lands and set
some fires of our own."
For all Gerin knew, the Trokme guards at the border
to Adiatunnus' holding might have been the same crew
with whom he'd spoken when he came seeking Duren.
This time, he didn't get a close look at them. As soon as
they saw his force of chariotry approaching, they cried
'The southrons!" in their own language and fled. They
got in among the trees before any of his men could shoot
them like the pheasant
"Shall we stop and go after them, lord prince?" Raffo
asked
"No," the Fox answered. "We storm ahead instead.
That way we get in amongst the woodsrunners faster
than they have word we're coming."
The first village his men reached was inhabited by

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Harry Turtledove
Elabonian serfs who had acquired new masters in the
five years since the Trokmoi swarmed south over the
Niffet When they realized the men in the chariots were
of their own kind, they came swarming out of their huts
with cries of exultation.
'The gods be praised!" they shouted. "You've come
to deliver us from the Trokmoi and from the—things."
With that seemingly innocuous word, half their joy at
seeing Gerin and his followers seemed to evaporate,
boiled away in the memory of overpowering fear. One
of them said, 'The Trokmoi are bad enough, stealing
and raping and all. But those things ..." His voice gut-
tered out like a candle.
"If you want to go, just pack whatever you can carry
on your backs and run for my holding," Gerin said.
"The peasants there will take you in. The ground is
thin of men these days, with so much war and plun-
der. They'll be glad to have you, to help bring in a
bigger crop."
"Dyaus bless you, lord," the serf said fervendy. Then
he hesitated "But lord, how shall we travel with these
things loose in the woods and ready to swoop down on
us?"
"Take weapons, fool," Van said "Anything you have is
better than nothing. Would you rather be eaten trying
to get away or stay here till the monsters come into your
house and eat you in your own bed?"
'Truth to tell, lord," the serf said, taking no chances
on the outlander s rank, "I'd sooner not be et at all"
"Then get out," Gerin said "Now we've no more time
to waste gabbing with you. The Trokmoi and the mon-
sters destroyed a peasant village in my land, just over the
border from what used to be Capuel's holding. Now
they're going to find out they can't do that without pay-
ing the price for it" He slapped Raffo on the shoulder.

Prince of the North
251
The driver flicked the reins of the chariot The horses
started forward.
The Fox put himself in the lead now, with Drago s
chariot right behind. The Bear would reliably follow him,
and wouldn't do anything foolish. That counted for more
than whatever brilliant stratagems Rihwin might come
up with, for Rihwin might just as easily do something to
endanger the whole force.
The road opened onto another clearing, this one
recendy hacked out of the woods. In it stood three or
four stout wooden houses, bigger and sturdier than the
round cottages in which most serfs dwelt. 'Those are
Trokme homes," Gerin said. "I've seen enough of them
north of the Niffet"
"Let's get rid of the Trokmoi in 'em, then," Van said.
One of those Trokmoi came out from behind a house.
He stared in amazement that might have been comical
under other circumstances at the Elabonians encroach-
ing on what he'd come to think of as his land That lasted
only a couple of heartbeats. Then he let out a shout of
alarm and dashed for shelter inside.
Gerin already had an arrow in the air. It caught the
woodsrunner in the small of the back. He went down
with a wail. Gerin caught Van's eye. Try doing that with
your precious spear," he said
Another Trokme came outside to see what the shout-
ing was about. Gerin and Drago both shot at him—and
both missed He ducked back into the house in a hurry,
slammed the door, and dropped the bar with a thump
Gerin could hear across half a furlong.
"Fire arrows!" Gerin yelled
A couple of chariots had flrepots in them, half full of
embers ready to be fanned to life. Others carried litde
bundles of straw soaked in pitch. While some of his men
got real fires going, others tied the bundles to arrows,

252
Harry Turtledove
just back of the heads. Still others used shields to protect
them from the Trokmoi, who started shooting at them
from the windows of the houses.
Trailing smoke, the fire arrows flew toward the
woods runners' shelters. Some fell short; some went
wide—their balance was all wrong. But others stuck in
wall timbers or the thatch of the roofs. Before long, smoke
rose up from a dozen different places. The Trokmoi inside
yelled at one another. Some of the voices belonged to
women. One corner of Germ's mouth twisted down, but
only for a moment The Trokmoi hadn't cared about
women or children when they struck his holding. What
did he owe them?
The fires on the roofs grew and spread. The women's
cries rose to shrill shrieks, then suddenly stopped. Doors
came open. Red- and yellow-mustached men charged
out, half a dozen in all. Some had helms on their heads;
two or three carried shields. They threw themselves at
Gerin's troopers with no thought for their own survival,
only the hope of taking some Elabonians with them
before they fell.
"You'll not have our wives and daughters for your
sport," one of them panted as he slashed at the Fox.
<cWe're after slaying the lot of them."
Van's spear caught the woodsrunner in the side. The
fellow wore no armor; it bit deep. Van twisted the shaft
as he yanked it out The Trokme coughed bright blood
and crumpled.
Gerin looked around None of the other woodsrunners
was still on his feet One of his own men swore as he
bound up a slashed arm. That seemed to be the only
wound his warriors had taken—they'd so outnumbered
their foes that they'd dealt with them three and four and
five to one, and not all of them had been engaged by a
long shot

Prince of the North
253
The houses kept on burning. Drago the Bear said,
'That smokes going to give us away."
'Its liable to," Gerin agreed, "though fire gets loose
easily enough, and its bloody hard to douse once it does.
Adiatunnus and his lads will know something has gone
wrong, but not just what—until we show up and teach
em. Lets get moving again."
Before long, they came to another peasant village—
or rather, what had been one. Now several monsters
from under the temple at Ikos stalked among the houses.
More of them tore at the carcasses of a couple of oxen in
the middle of the village square. They looked up, muzzles
and hands red with blood, as Gerin s chariot came into
sight.
Two or three monsters ran straight for the chariot, as
any fierce beasts might have. Gerin shot one of them: a
lucky arrow, right through the throat. That made the
others hesitate, more thoughtful than any beasts would
have been.
But it also gave the rest of the monsters the chance to
snatch up weapons: clubs, spears, and a couple of swords.
Then they too rushed toward the Fox, their cries more
like words than any he had heard from the creatures
before.
He had a bad moment or two there. There were a lot
more monsters than he had men in the two lead chari-
ots. He was about to order Raffo to wheel the horses
around and retreat when reinforcements came rattling
up.
Some of the monsters kept on with the attack, again
as beasts might have done. But others must have made
the calculation he'd been on the brink of a short time
before: they headed off into the woods, to fight another
day.
When the skirmish was done, Gerin pointed to the

254
Harry Turtledove
deserted huts in the village and said, 'Torch the place. If
those things were denning here, we don't want to give
them anyplace they can return to once we've gone."
More smoke rose into the sky. The Fox knew that
whoever saw it would figure out something unusual was
going on in the northeastern part of the land Adiatunnus
had overrun. His lips skinned back from his teeth. He
had reached the point where he was resigned to having
a woodsrunner for a neighbor; Adiatunnus hadn't acted
much differendy from Capuel the Flying Frog and the
other Elabonian barons he'd displaced But if Adiatunnus
consorted with monsters—
That led Gerin to another thought As Raffo drove
the chariot deeper into the Trokme's territory, the Fox
said to Van, "I wonder how the monsters came to align
themselves with Adiatunnus. Most of the ones we saw
in Bevon's holding wouldn't have had the wit to do such
a thing."
"If I had to guess, Captain, I'd say there's smart ones
and dumb ones, same as with people," the oudander
answered "Say the smart ones are as smart as dumb
people: that'd make the dumb ones like wolves or
longtooths or any other hunting beasts. The smart ones'd
have the wit for something like banding together with
the Trokmoi, and maybe even for bringing along some
of their stupid friends." He laughed. "Makes 'em sound
like half the folk we know, doesn't it?"
"More than half," Gerin said. Van laughed again. The
Fox went on, "I wish we didn't have to waste time with
all these litde fights. I want to hit Adiatunnus as hard
and sudden a blow as I can, but every skirmish we fight
makes me slower to get to him and gives him more time
to ready himself."
"Well, we can't very well say to the woodsrunners we
run into—or still less to these monsters—'Sorry there,

Prince of the North
255
fxiend, we have more important things to do than slaugh-
tering you right now. Can you hang about till we re on
our way back? "
Gerin snorted; when you put it that way, it was absurd.
All the same, unease gnawed at him. Before he'd set out
on this punitive raid, he'd seen it clearly in his mind: go
into Adiatunnus' territory, strike the Trokmoi—and with
luck kill their chieftain—and then fare home again.
Reality was less clear-cut, as reality has a way of being.
Before long, his army rolled past the ruins of what
had been a palisaded keep before the Trokmoi came
south over the Niffet The woodsrunners hadn't both-
ered repairing the timbers of the outwall; instead, they'd
built a dwelling of their own in the courtyard between
the wall and the stone keep, turning the place into a sort
of fortified village.
A couple of Trokmoi were up on what was left of the
wall, but they raised no alarm when Germs chariot came
into sight. "Are they all asleep?' he demanded indig-
nantly He didn't like his enemies to act stupidly; it made
him wonder what sort of ruse they were plotting.
But Van smacked one fist into the palm of his other
hand. "Me, I know what it is, Captain: they think we're
woodsrunners, too."
"By the gods, you're right." Gerin waved toward the
distant stronghold. One of the Trokmoi waved back. The
Fox frowned "I don't fancy going in after them. They
could have enough men to make that expensive—and it
would cost us the speed and free movement the chari-
ots give."
"More fire arrows?' Raffo said over his shoulder.
"Aye, and maybe a muzzle for a mouthy driver, too,"
Gerin answered but he swatted the young man on the
back to leave no doubt that was a joke. "Wewant to make
sure none of them gets away, too, so what we'll do is—"

256
Harry Turtledove
His chariot, and Drago s with it, pulled off the road a
little past the keep the Trokmoi had altered. That might
have perplexed the men on the battered wall, but not
enough to make them cry out. Even when the first chari-
ots of the Fox's main force came into view, they kept
silent long enough to let the cars get well begun on form-
ing a ring around the holding.
"Southrons!" The cry in the Trokme language floated
across weedy fields to Gerin's ears. <eWeve been coz-
ened by southrons!"
So they had, and by the time they realized it, they
were too late to do anything about it The Elabonian
warriors shot arrows at any woodsrunner who appeared
on the palisade. Some of them also shot fire arrows at
the wooden palisade itself and over it at the roofs of the
houses it sheltered. The timbers of the palisade caught
only slowly; the same was not true for the dry straw
thatching of those roofs.
'Well, what'll they do now?" Van said as several thick
plumes of gray-white smoke rose from the courtyard.
"Curse me if I know," Gerin answered. "I don't know
what I'd do in that spot—try not to get into it in the first
place, I suppose. But they don't have that choice, not
anymore."
Some of the Trokmoi took refuge in the stone keep in
the center of the courtyard—Gerin saw bits of motion
through its slitwindows. He wondered if that would save
them; the door and all the furnishings within were wood,
andliable to catch fire... and even if they didn't, so much
smoke filled the air that anyone inside was liable to feel
like a slab of bacon being cured.
The Trokmoi had let the ditch around the palisade
alone; shrubs and bushes grew in great profusion in it
That would have made matters easier for anyone who
tried to lay siege to the castle, but it helped those inside

Prince of the North
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now. Some leaped off the wall—not just men but also
women with their skirts flying up around them as they
jumped—to land in those bushes and shelter there from
fire and foe alike.
And die drawbridge thumped down. A double hand-
ful of woodsrunners in bronze armor stormed forth to
put up the best fight they could. Gerin admired their
gallantry even as his men thundered toward them. Fight-
ing afoot against chariotry was like trying to spoon up
sand with a sieve. The Elabonians rattled by, pouring
arrows into their foes, and the woodsrunners could do
little but stand and suffer.
They had one moment of triumph: an archer of theirs
hit an oncoming horse in the neck. The beast crashed to
the ground, dragging down its harnessmate and over-
turning the car the two horses pulled Men tumbled over
the ground like broken dolls. The three or four Trokmoi
still standing raised a defiant cheer. Soon they were dead.
Of the Elabonians in the wrecked chariot, one also
lay dead, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Another
writhed and groaned with a broken leg and other inju-
ries besides. The third, Parol Chickpea, was on his feet
and hardly limping. "By all the gods, I'm the luckiest
man alive!" he cried.
Gerin was not inclined to argue with him, but said,
"Whether its so or not, don t boast of it If you tempt the
divine powers to take away what they've given, they're
too apt to yield to that temptation."
He did what he could for the warrior with the broken
leg, splinting it between two trimmed saplings. The fel-
low had to be tied aboard a chariot after that, though,
which ruined the car's efficiency and made him cry out
at every bump and pothole in the road—and the road
seemed nothing but bumps and potholes.
"I should have brought a wagon to carry the

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Harry Turtledove
wounded," the Fox said as they made camp that evening
in the heart of the land Adiatunnus had seized "I didn't
want anything to slow us down, but here we are slowed
down anyhow by all the fighting we've done—and we
haven't really come to grips with Adiatunnus yet"
"Expecting a plan to run just as you make it asks a lot
of the gods," Van said.
'That's so." Gerin fretted despite the admission. He
always expected his plans to work perfectly; if they failed,
that reflected unfavorably on him, since he had formed
them. Life being as it was, few of them came to pass
exactly as designed, which left him plenty for which to
reproach himself.
Pale Nothos, nearly full, was the only moon in the
sky: Math was just past new, and too close to the sun to
be seen, while Tiwaz was a waning crescent and ruddy
Elleb halfway between full and third quarter. It had been
about there in its wanderings through the heavens when
the Fox and his men slew the first monster down in
Bevon's holdings, though rain clouds kept him from see-
ing it then.
Thinking of that monster made him think of the mon-
sters that had joined Adiatunnus. He did not expect the
Trokmoi themselves to sally forth against his men at night.
He still hoped, though he didn't really believe,
Adiatunnus hadn't yet learned of his attack. Even if the
woodsrunners did know of it, sending men out by night
was not something to be undertaken lightly.
But the monsters were something else again. He'd
already seen that the night ghosts held no terror for them.
They might well try to fall on his warriors when they had
them at a disadvantage.
That made him double the watchstanders he'd placed
out away from the main campfires. The men he'd hauled
from their blankets grumbled "Go back to sleep, then,"

he snapped "If you'd rather be well rested and dead
than sleepy and alive, how could I possibly presume to
argue with you?' Stung by sarcasm, the newly drafted
sentries went out to take their places.
Sure enough, monsters did prowl the woods and fields;
their yowls and screams woke the Fox several times
before midnight came. He'd grab for sword, shield, and
helmet, realize the creatures were not close by, wriggle
around till he was comfortable once more, and go back
to sleep.
Then he heard screams that came not only from the
monsters' throats but also from those of his own men.
He snatched up his weapons and sprang to his feet The
night was well along; Elleb had climbed halfway from
the eastern horizon to the meridian. But Gerin's eyes
were not on the reddish moon.
Its light, that of Nothos, and the crimson glow of the
embers showed two of his sentry parties locked in battle
with the monsters, and more of the creatures running
rousing themselves round the
fire.
Gerin shouted to distract a monster from an Elabonian
who still lay on the ground snoring. The Fox envied the
man's ability to sleep through anything, but wished he
hadn't put it on display at that exact moment
The monster swerved from the sleeping warrior and
rushed at Gerin. Moonlight glinted from its teeth. Its
clawed hands were outstretched to rend and tear. He
was acutely aware of having only helm and shield; cool
night air blew through his linen shirt and wool trousers,
reminding him of what the monster's teeth and claws
would do to flesh so nearly naked
Instead of slashing, he thrust at the creature, to keep
the full length of arm and sword between it and him. It
spitted itself on the point of the bronze blade. He twisted
Prince of the North
259
toward the warriors slowly

260
Harry Turtledove
the sword in the wound, then yanked it free. The mon-
ster screamed again, this time with the note of shocked
surprise he'd heard so often from wounded men.
As it staggered, he thrust again, this time taking it right
in the throat. Blood fountained, black in the light of the
moons. The monster stumbled, fell, and did not rise
again.
The Fox ran to die next closest fight he could find
He stabbed a monster in the back. It shrieked and whirled
to face him, whereupon the trooper it had been fighting
gave it a sword stroke almost identical to the one Gerin
had used.
Though the monsters were individually more than a
match for unarmored men, they had litde notion of fight-
ing save by and for themselves. That let the Elabonians
slowly gain the upper hand on their attackers. And, like
any beasts of prey, the monsters were not enthusiastic
about taking on foes who fought back hard. They finally
fled into the forest, still screaming in fury and hate.
'Throw some wood on the fire," Gerin said. "Let's
see what needs doing here and do it."
As the flames leaped higher, the warriors went around
finishing off monsters too badly hurt to run or even crawl
away. Several men were also down for good. Gerin,
Rihwin, and a couple of others who knew something of
leechcraft did what they could for men who had been
bitten or clawed
"Lucky they didn't go for die horses," Van said, hold-
ing out a gashed arm to be bound up. That would have
spilled the perfume into the soup."
"Wouldn't it?" Gerin said. "As is, we'll have some cars
with two men in them rather than three. But you're right;
it could have been worse."
'It could that," the oudander said; every once in a
while, a Trokme turn of phrase cropped up in his speech.

Prince of the North
261
"Me, I'm just as glad I wont be clumping along on foot
when Adiatunnus and his jolly lads come after us in their
chariots. That'll be tomorrow, unless Adiatunnus is
blinder than I think."
"You're right there, too," the Fox said. 'We could have
run into them yesterday, easy as not. I'dhoped we would,
as a matter of fact. All these little fights leave us weaker
for the big one ahead"
Van nodded, but said, '"We've hurt them worse'n
they've done to us, though."
"I console myself with that thought," Gerin answered,
"but drop me into the hottest hell if I know who can
better afford the hurt, Adiatunnus or me. He brought a
lot of Trokmoi south over the Niffet with him, the
whoreson, and these monsters only add to his strength."
"We'll find out come the day," Van said, more cheer-
fully than Gerin could have managed. 'Tor me, though,
the only I thing I want to manage is some more sleep."
He set down spear and shield, doffed his helm, wrapped
himself in his blanket, and was snoring again while the
Fox still stared indignantly.
Gerin could not put the desperate fight out of his mind
so easily, nor could most of his men. Some still groaned
from their wounds, while others sat around the fire and
chatted in low voices about what they'd just been through.
The eastern sky turned gray, then pink, then gold
liwaz's thin crescent almost vanished against the grow-
ing light of the background against which it shone. The
sun spilled its bright rays over the land. The Fox's men
scratched shallow graves for their comrades the mon-
sters had slain, then covered them over with stones to
try to keep the creatures or other scavengers from
molesting their remains. The corpses of the monsters,
now stiff in death, they let lie where they had fallen.
Drivers harnessed chariots. "Let's get going," Gerin

262
Harry Turtledove
said. 'What we do today tells how much this strike is
worth."
The first peasant village through which they rolled
was empty and deserted Gerin thought nothing of that
till his warriors had already passed the hamlet Then he
realized word of their coming had got ahead of them. If
the peasants knew invaders were loose in Adiatunnus'
lands, the Trokmoi would know, too.
'Well, we didn't really think we could keep it a secret
this long," Van answered when Gerin said that aloud
The outlander checked his shield and weapons to make
sure he could get at them in an instant. Gerin told Raffo
to slow the pace. When the driver obeyed and the chari-
ots behind came up close enough, he shouted the warn-
ing back to them. Then he thumped Raffo on the shoul-
der. His chariot rejoined Drago's in the lead
Cattle, sheep, and a couple of horses grazed on a broad
stretch of meadow. They looked up in mild surprise—
and the herders with them in dismay—when Elabonian
chariots began rolling out The herdsmen fled for the
woods, but they were a long way away.
"Shall we go after 'em?" Raffo asked "By their red
locks, they're woodsrunners."
"No, let 'em run," Gerin said "They look like men
who hardly have their breeches to call their own; they're
no danger to us."
Van pointed across the meadow. More chariots, these
drawn by shaggy ponies and painted with bright spirals
and jagged fylfots, came rattling out of the woods there.
The men in them were pale-skinned and light-haired,
like the herders. Bronze shone ruddy in the morning
sun. "You want folk dangerous to us, Fox, I think you've
found them," Van said
Before Gerin could so much as nod, Drago the Bear
called from the other chariot 'What do we do now, lord?"

Prince of the North
263
"Pull over to one side, begin to form line ofbatde, and
clear the roadway so the cars behind us can deploy," Gerin
answered. Raffo, who knew his mind well, already had
the chariot in motion. Drago s driver conformed to his
movements.
To Van, Gerin murmured, "Now we see how much
Adiatunnus has learned from a few years of fighting
against Elabonians."
"Aye, if he's brought his own army in a great roaring
mass, Trokme style, he'll swarm down on us before our
friends get here," the oudander said. "Lets hope he's set
out scouts the way we have, and that they're waiting for
their main body, too." He chuckled. 'The fighting trick'll
work against him this time, not for."
Much to Gerin's relief, the Trokmoi across the
meadow didn't whip their horses into a wild charge.
Instead, they too sidled out onto the grass almost crab
fashion, as if wondering how many cars the Fox had with
him and how soon those cars would arrive.
Gerin was wondering the same thing about the
woodsrunners. Adiatunnus must have done a fine job of
absorbing Elabonian military doctrine, for his support-
ers began coming out of the woods at about the same
time as those of the Fox. The two lines of chariots
stretched about to equal length on the meadow. Mon-
sters stood between die cars of Adiatunnus' batde line.
Gerin wondered whether that would do the Trokme
more good than harm; the ponies that pulled the chari-
ots seemed nervous of these fierce new allies.
Adiatunnus cupped his hands and bellowed like a bull.
Gerin knew that voice. At the same moment, Gerin raised
his arm and then brought it down to point toward the
Trokme line. Drivers on both sides whipped their teams
forward.
Chariot batdes were generally fluid as quicksilver, and

264
Harry Turtledove
this one proved no exception. The herds in the broad
field made teams swingwide to avoid them. The pound-
ing of the horses' hooves, the rattle and thump of the
cars, and warriors' hoarse, excited shouts panicked the
sheep and cattle and made them run wild, spreading
more confusion still.
Gerin plucked an arrow from his quiver, nocked, and
let fly at Adiatunnus: if the chieftain fell, that would make
his followers easier meat Shooting from the jouncing
platform of a chariot car—indeed, standing in the car
without hanging on to the rail to keep from being pitched
out on your head—was anything but easy, though end-
less practice let him do it without wondering how he
managed He cursed when the Trokme did not fall.
An arrow hissed by his own ear; the woodsrunners
were aiming at him, too. Here and there, men on both
sides pitched out of chariots to sprawl in the thick green
grass. Horses went down, too, and often made the cars
they drewfounder with them. Sometimes warriors would
come up from those mishaps unhurt, and go on to fight
as foot soldiers.
A monster loped toward Gerin's chariot The crea-
ture was almost as fast as the horses, and much more
agile. Unlike some the Fox had seen, it carried no weap-
ons. Even so, it was clever enough to attack the beasts of
burden rather than the men they hauled the horses could
not fight back, and if one of them went down, the chariot
was apt to overturn, too.
The Fox shot at the monster from only a few yards'
distance, and turned the air sulfurous when his arrow
went wide. Van was on the wrong side of the chariot to
attack the creature, and in any case could not reach it
with his thrusting spear. The horses squealed and shied
away from the monster as it came up on them.
Before Gerin could draw another arrow, Raffo lashed

Prince of the North
265
the monster across its outstretched arms with his whip.
The thing screeched The driver hit it again, craackl, this
time across its muzzle, just missing one eye. The mon-
ster clapped a hand to die wound and fled.
Along with three or four other chariots, Gerin s over-
lapped the end of the Trokme line. "Gome on! Well roll
'em up!" he shouted with fierce joy, and led his men
around the enemy's flank. The chaos they created was
marvelous to behold—and would have been more
marvelous still had the woodsrunners' line not overlapped
his on the other wing. But it did, and the whole battle
spun round, a mad wheel of destruction.
The Fox found himself face-to-face with Adiatunnus.
The Trokme had lost his helm somewhere in the fight-
ing; his bald pate glowed red from exertion and sun. His
eyes, though, were cold and shrewd, 'Well, lord Gerin,"
he said with a mocking salute, "we lie athwart your way
home now, don't we?"
"You do that," Gerin answered in the Trokme tongue,
"but no more than we lie athwart yours."
Fighting ebbed as the leaders parleyed. Adiatunnus
scowled; perhaps he'd hoped to panic Gerin, but he'd
failed. He looked over the field. "You've hurt us about as
bad as the other way round," he said. "Are you fain to go
on, now, or shall we say enough and have done?"
Gerin gauged the field, too. The Trokme chief had
the right of it; the battle was drawn. The woodsrunners
had wrecked Mannor Trout's village, but he'd had his
revenge there: he'd hurt Adiatunnus' lands worse. Fight-
ing till only a handful of men still stood had scant appeal
to him, especially with the monsters on the loose.
"Enough—for now," he said reluctantly, "if you can
hold those—things—to a truce to let us separate."
'That I can, though I'll thank you for not speaking ill
of my friends and allies here," Adiatunnus said. "And

266
Harry Turtledove
Tor now' indeed—we'll have at each other again, I have
no doubt Och, and when we do, HI be after having
more in the way of fhends and allies, but you, Fox—
what will you do?"
Gerin pondered that question as the rival forces warily
passed through each other. Hewas still pondering it when
he crossed back over the border into his own holding,
and when he came home to Fox Keep. Ponder as he
would, though, he found no answer that satisfied him.

VIII
"My poor ear," Rihwin moaned for what had to be
the five hundredth time. Gerin prided himself on being
a patient man, but when his patience snapped, it snapped
spectacularly.
"By all the gods, I'm sick to death of listening to your
whining," he growled, and grabbed Rihwin. The
southerner tried to twist free, but Gerin was the best
wresder in the northlands. He twisted one of Rihwin s
arms behind his back and started frog-marching him
toward the shack where he worked his magics.
"What are you doing?" Rihwin yelped.
"I am going to fix that ear of yours, one way or the
other," the Fox said Rihwin hadn't struggled hard till
then, but he started to. Gerin twisted his arm up a litde
higher. Rihwin gasped as he felt his shoulder joint creak.
Inside the shack, Gerin slammed him down onto the
one rickety chair in front of the table where he labored
at his sorcery. He'd managed to overawe Rihwin, which
wasn't easy. The southerner made no effort to bolt In a
small voice, he repeated, 'What are you doing?"
"What I said I'd do: use the law of similarity to build
that ear of yours back to where it's the same as the other
one. The spell should be simplicity itself: what could pos-
sibly go wrong?"
Now Rihwin did try to rise. "I'd really rather not find
out. Given the choice between a half-trained wizard—
which, you must admit, is a charitable description of your
talents—and keeping silent about my mutilation, I opt
without hesitation for silence."
267

268
Harry Turtledove
Gerin slammed him down again. '"You've said that
before, over and over. You've gone back on your word,
too, over and over. Now, don't be a donkey—-just sit there
and I'll set you right in no time. Unless you'd rather I
tried that operation you described—
"No," Rihwin said hastily. "You're sure you know what
you're doing?" He had the look of a man sitting down to
gamble against a fellow notorious for using loaded dice.
"I know what I have to do," Gerin answered, which
was not quite an affirmative. He flipped through the
vellum pages of a codex until he came to a cantrip which
was a general application of the law of similarity. Then
he paused a while in thought. Suddenly he smacked one
fist into the other palm. 'The very thing!" he exclaimed.
He turned to Rihwin. "I'm going out to find something
to tailor the spell to your very problem. You'd better be
here when I get back."
"What are you looking for?" Rihwin still sounded sus-
picious.
Gerin grinned triumphantly "Earwigs."
"Well, father Dyaus, that's ingenious," Rihwin said.
"Perhaps I shall be here when you return."
With that Gerin had to be content He went out and
started turning over stones in the courtyard. Under one
not very far from the stables, he found several of the
shiny, dark brown insects. They tried to crawl away, but
he grabbed them and carried them back to the shack.
"Even the little pincers on their posteriors will serve sym-
bolically to represent the ring you wore in your ear."
"Why, so they will." All at once, Rihwin went from
dubious to enthusiastic. "Don't fribble away the time.
Get on with it."
Gerin got on with it, but first spent more time study-
ing the spell in the grimoire. He knew his own inad-
equacy as a sorcerer, and also knew he would never get

Prince of the North	269
the chance to make two serious blunders. Fitting a gen-
eral spell to a specific application required certain adap-
tations of both verse and passes. He muttered to him-
self, planning in advance the rhymes he'd use and the
passes he'd have to change. The spell was intended to
be simple, which meant most of the passes used the right
hand. That hindered him more than ithelped. He'd over-
come the problem before, though, and expected to be
able to do it again.
He felt confident as he launched into the chant His
right hand was clumsy, but seemed to be doing what he
required of it He poured rose water over the earwigs
he'd imprisoned in a bronze bowl. They didn't drown
quite as fast as he'd thought they would, but surely that
degree of exactitude wouldn't matter.
"My ear feels strange," Rihwin remarked He brought
his hand up to the ruined flap of flesh. "You've not
changed it yet, but the potential for change is manifestly
there."
"Shut up," Gerin said fiercely, though Rihwin had
given him good news. The donkey had to know he didn't
need to be distracted, not when he was coming to the
climactic moment of the spell. His right hand twisted
through the last pass; he grunted in satisfaction at hav-
ing done it correctly. He cut a red wool thread with a
bronze knife he never used for any other purpose and
cried, 'Transform!"
"You've done it!" Rihwin said exultantly. "I can feel
the change."
Gerin turned to see what his magic had wrought He
suffered a sudden coughing fit, and hoped his face would
not betray him. He had changed Rihwin's ear, but not
quite in the way he'd intended It was indeed whole, but
not pink and round it was long and pointed and hairy.
He knew what had gone wrong. He'd called Rihwin a

270
Harry Turtledove
donkey, and then thought of him as a donkey when he'd
spoken up at the wrong time. Somehow, the resentful
thought had leaked into the conjuration and left his fel-
low Fox with a donkey's ear.
A fly buzzing around the inside of the shack chose
that moment to light on the new-formed appendage. As
a donkey's ear will, it twitched The fly flew away. Rihwin
started violently and clapped a hand to his head. Hie
evidence, alas, was all too palpable. 'What have you done
to me, you muddler?'
"Muddled" Gerin kicked at the dirt floor of the shack,
feeling smaller and more useless than the earwigs he'd
drowned.
'Well, what are you going to do about it? You were
going to give me an ear, you—you moldy pigeon dropping,
not this—this excrescence." Gerin had never heard an
unwounded man scream through three consecutive sen-
tences before; in the abstract, the feat was to be admired
"I'll try my best to set it right," Gerin said. "I should
be able to manage a simple reversal of the spell." He
reached for the grimoire.
"You said the spell itself would be simple, too," Rihwin
reminded him. He wasn't screaming any more, but sar-
casm sharp and sour as vinegar dripped from his tongue.
"So I did," Gerin admitted "Look, if all else fails, I'll
buy you a hat" That sent Rihwin's voice back into the
upper registers.
Gerin tried to ignore him, though it wasn't easy. In
theory, reversal spells were simple. Both the law of simi-
larity and that of contagion applied and, since he'd just
essayed the spell he wished to overturn, the links were
temporally strong. On the other hand, given the sorcer-
ous ineptitude he'd just demonstrated— He made him-
self not think about that. A magician needed to believe
he'd succeed

Prince of the North
271
A magician also needs talent, part of him jeered. The
rest of him made that part shut up. He plunged head-
long into the first reversal spell he found The more time
he spent thinking about it, the more he'd hesitate later.
If you fell out of a jouncing chariot, you needed to get
back in and ride again.
By luck, most of the passes were for his left hand. He
went through them with care, but not with confidence—
he wondered when, if ever, he'd have confidence in his
magic once more. Rihwin sat in the chair, arms folded,
glaring stonily at him. Normally, having Rihwin keep
quiet while he cast a spell would have been a blessing.
As things were, it just disconcerted Gerin more.
He raced through the cantrip at a pace a practiced
wizard would have hesitated to match. One way or
another, he'd know soon. His fingers twisted through
the last and hardest pass of the spell. "Let all be as it
was!" he yelled
"Something happened," Rihwin said. "I felt it" But
he didn't raise his hand to discover exacdy what it was.
Maybe he was afraid. He asked Gerin, "Did you deck
me out with an octopus tentacle?'
"I haven't even seen octopus tentacles since that
Sithonian eatery I used to frequent in the City of Elabon,"
Gerin replied He stared at the place where the donkey's
ear had sprouted from Rihwin's head
'That's not a responsive answer." Rihwin sighed the-
atrically "Very well, since you won't tell me, I shall just
have to find out for myself." Slowly, he brought his left
hand up to his head. His eyes grew as wide as Germs.
"It's my ear," he whispered. Then, even more amazed,
he added, "And it's whole—isn't it?"
"It certainly looks that way," Gerin said "Does it feel
so, too?'
"By Dyaus, it does. How ever did you manage that?'

272
Harry Turtledove
"If I knew, I would tell you." Gerin cudgeled his wits
for an explanation. At last, he said, 'The reversal spell
must have undone your wound as well as my magic—
that's all I can think of"
Rihwin felt of his ear. "There's the hole through which
the hoop passed You must be right, lord Gerin; like you,
I can think of no other explanation that fits." Now that
his ear was restored, he started to laugh. "My fellow Fox,
you are the best bad magician I have ever known."
"I'M take that for a compliment" Suddenly Gerin started
to laugh, too. Rihwin's elastic features showed curiosity.
Gerin explained "If I could do on purpose what I did by
accident, think of the demand I'd be in from wenches
who wanted to frolic and yet be wed as maidens."
Rihwin leered. "Aye, and think of the fee you could
charge, too."
"I'm surprised women don't already have a magic like
that," Gerin said "Or maybe they do, and just don't let
on to us men."
"It could be so," Rihwin agreed. He felt his ear again,
as if not believing Gerin had, no matter how erratically,
accomplished exactly what he'd said he'd do. "Now I
have to wait until Otes or another jeweler passes through,
so I can have a new hoop made to replace the one I
lost."
"If you get your ear torn again on account of that fool-
ish southron conceit, don't expect me to fix it for you,"
Gerin said.
"If I come to you again to have my ear fixed, I deserve
to wear a donkey's in its place," Rihwin retorted Gerin
mimed taking an arrow in the ribs; Rihwin had won that
exchange.
One of Gerin's warriors who held the Elabon Way
open through Bevon's holding brought disquieting news

Prince of the North
273
back to Fox Keep. "Lord prince, its said Bevon and two
of his sons have made common cause with Adiatunnus—
and with the monsters from Ikos," he said between swigs
from a jack of ale.
"Said by whom?" Gerin demanded, not wanting to
believe Elabonians could fall so low as to align them-
selves with the creatures.
"By Bevander, another of Bevon s sons," the soldier
answered. "He came to us calling down curses on past
enmity and saying he'd sooner cast his lot with you than
with a bunch of things."
"I wonder what he meant by that," Gerin said, "the
monsters, or his father and brothers?' The warrior who'd
brought word started, then snorted as he was swallow-
ing, which made him choke and spray ale over the table-
top.
Gerin plucked distractedly at his beard. He'd reck-
oned Adiatunnus' embrace of the monsters a hideous
aberration. If more and more lords proved willing to
use the creatures to further their own ends, they mould
gain a permanent place in the northlands. He wondered
which lord who favored them they'd first end up
devouring.
"What will you do, lord Gerin?" the soldier answered.
"Do about what, Captain?" Van called from the stair-
way. He and Fand were coming down into the great hall
hand in hand. By the foolish grins on their faces, Gerin
had no trouble imagining what they'd been doing up on
the second floor. Fand smirked at him, just in case he
had had trouble. She wanted to make him jealous—her
door stayed closed to him these days.
He knew a certain amount of annoyance at the way
she flaunted what she was up to, but jealousy stayed
dormant. He wondered what that was telling him. To
keep from having to think about it, he turned to the

274	Harry Turtledove
trooper and said, 'Tell him what you just told me."
The trooper obeyed Van scowled and rubbed at the
scar that creased his nose. Fand poked him in the ribs,
indignant at being forgotten. He let go of her hand and
slipped his arm around her waist. She molded herself
against him, but most of his attention was still on what
he'd just heard. "Good question," he said. "What will
you do, Fox?"
"I don't know yet," Gerin answered. T begin to think
I need allies myself. I wonder if the monsters have got to
Schild's lands yet. If they have, he may be more likely to
remember he's my vassal. And Ricolf will fight on my
side, even if he isn't fond of me anymore."
'The Trokmoi south of the Niffet will range them-
selves with Adiatunnus, sure and they will," Fand said
Gerin couldn't tell whether she was trying to be help-
ful or to goad him further. He gave her the benefit of the
doubt "I wouldn't be surprised if you're right. All the
more reason for me to look for those who will help me
struggle against them." He puckered his lips, as if at a
sour taste. He hated having to rely on any power but his
own. Itlefthim too vulnerable by half. But he was already
vulnerable, in a different way.
"Hagop son of Hovan—" Van began.
"—Is hardly worth having on my side, for he brings
little force with him," Gerin interrupted. "I want to win
this fight, not have it drag on forever." As he spoke, one
way to do that came to mind "If Grand Duke Aragis
would make common cause with me, now—"
Van, Fand, and the trooper all stared at him. He didn't
suppose he could blame them. Ever since Elabon aban-
doned the northlands and the Trokmoi entered them,
he and Aragis had been most successful at building from
the ruins of empire. He'd taken for granted that they
would clash one day, and assumed Aragis had done the

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same—a notion their meeting at Ikos had only reinforced
But the monsters and the lords who would use them to
augment their own power were a danger to Aragis no
less than to Gerin.
At last Van said, "You don't think small, Captain. That
much I give you."
The more Gerin looked at the idea, the more he liked
it himself. "I see two problems," he said "One is making
sure we stay allies with Aragis and don't end up his vas-
sals. He'll have the same concern about us, no doubt It
could make working together ticklish."
"Aye, I can see that one," Van said with a sage nod
'This setup of vassalage you Elabonians have makes you
so sticky about rank and honor that it's a wonder you
ever get anything done. What's the second?"
Gerin made a wry face. "Simply getting a messenger
from Fox Keep to the Casde of the Archer. With all the
monsters loose on the land between what I hold and
what belongs to Aragis, I really should send a good-sized
fighting force just to see to it that he hears my offer and
I hear his answer. But I can't afford to do that, not now,
not with the monsters and the Trokmoi and now Bevon
and his sons ganging together against me."
"Send Rihwin," Van suggested "Ever since you got
him that one ear back, he's been talking both of mine off
about—what does he call it?—your natural talent as a
mage, that's right"
Remembering the near fiasco in the shack, the Fox
said, That only proves he's not as smart as he thinks he
is." He plucked at his beard again. "I need to ponder
this a bit more before I go and do it. It's not something I
can just set in motion before I try to look at the places it
may lead"
"Rihwin would," Van said "But then, you already said
what needs saying about him. Not that he's stupid, mind,

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Harry Turtledove
but that he thinks he has your Dyaus' view of things, and
he doesn't"
"I don't what?" Rihwin asked, coming into the great
hall from the courtyard
'"Know your backside from a longtooth turd," Fand
said. Gerin and Van hadn't put it so pungently, but it did
a fair job of summing up their opinion.
Rihwin looked down over his shoulder at the part of
him cited 'That's what I thought I had there," he said,
as if in relief. Trying to sit down on a longtooth turd
strikes me as unaesthetic."
"As what, now?" Fand said. Her Elabonian was flu-
ent, but that was not a word used every day in a frontier
castle of a former frontier province of the decaying
Empire of Elabon.
"Messy and smelly," Gerin translated for her. "He's
making a joke."
"Is he? Then why doesn't he up and do it?" Fand
said.
"I take a certain amount of pleasure at being insulted
by so fair a lady," Rihwin said, bowing, "but only a cer-
tain amount" He turned on his heel and strode out
"A pity you gave him back his missing ear," Fand said
to Gerin. "Better you should have torn off the other one."
She bared her teeth and looked every bit as savage as
she sounded The Fox was sure she meant to be taken
literally
He said, "What good would that do? Rihwin didn't
listen with two ears and didn't with one, so why do you
think he would with none?"
Fand stared at him, then gurgled laughter. "It's not
just that y'are lefthanded, Fox, but sure and you think
that way as well. How am I to stay angry at you, now,
when you go sneaking round my temper with such silli-
ness as that?"

Prince of the North
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Gerin didn't answer. As far as he was concerned, he
hadn't done anything to deserve Fand's anger. His
thoughts were another matter, but if men—and women,
too—were scourged for their thoughts, every back in
the northlands—no, every back in the world—would
bear stripes.
Van said, 4<Will you send to Aragis, then, Captain?"
"I think so," Gerin answered. "But as I said, I'll weigh it
abitmorebefoielmakeupmymind. I grudge the strength
I'd have to send to make sure my embassy got through."
"Fair enough, I suppose," the outlander said, '"but don't
go weighing overlong. Mygutwarnsmewehaven'tmuch
time to squander."
If Van was worried, the situation could not be good;
Van generally saw fighting as sport. Gerin had already
thought matters bleak. Seeing his friend's concern, he
wondered if he hadn't been too optimistic.
Rap, rap. Knocking on Fand's door, Gerin realized he
hadn't been so nervous approaching a woman since he'd
gone off into the woods with a serf girl at about the age
of fourteen. If she told him no again, he vowed he'd
have nothing more to do with her.
The door opened. Fand eyed Gerin with the same
irresolution he felt At last, with the hint of a smile, she
said, "You're not one to give up easy, are you, now?"
"If I were, I'd either be dead or living in the
southlands," Gerin answered "May I come in?"
"Sure and you'd do better with more sweet talk, not
just throwing it out so, like a sausage, splash! into the
soup pot." Fand sounded a trifle irked She didn't close
the door in his face, though, as she had so many times
lately. After a moment, she stepped aside and motioned
for him to join her. She closed the door behind him,
barred it

278	Harry Turtledove
A tunic lay on the bed, bone needle and thread half-
way through a rip on one sleeve. Gerin turned the sleeve
right side out so he could see how the repair would look
'Thats fine work," he said
"For which I thank you, though sewing by lamplight
is more trouble nor its worth, I'm thinking.'' Fand rubbed
her eyes to show him what she meant After an awkward
pause, she went on, "But you didna come here to be
talking of shirts." She sat down on the bed
"No, I didn't" Gerin sat down beside her. "I came
because I hoped we could end the quarrel between us."
"Because you wanted to fatter me," Fand said She
didn't sound angry, though, as she had so often when
she sent him away She might have been talking about
how the wheat was doing this year. After a moment, Gerin
nodded; saying he didn't want her would have been a
lie. Fands mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Och, you're
no seducer, are you now? But have your way this once,
Fox. We'll see what we bring to it." She pulled the tunic
she was wearing up over her head, then stood to slide
off her brightly checked wool skirt
Seeing her naked made the breath catch in his throat,
as it always did. She was a splendid woman, and she
knew it, which only made the impression stronger. Gerin
undressed in a hurry. They got back down on the bed
together.
They did their best to please each other. The Fox tried
hard; he could tell Fand was doing the same thing. He
rolled offher quickly afterwards, not wanting her to have
to bear his weight any longer than she needed to. "I
thank you," she said, and sat up.
Gerin lay on one side. He looked over to her and said,
"It's no good any more, is it?"
She sighed "If you're after knowing the answer, why
d'you ask the question?"

Prince of the North
279
"Saying the words, hearing them, makes it seem real
somehow," he answered "Besides, I might have been
wrong." He swung himself over to the side of the bed,
grabbed his breeches, and put them back on. As he
fiddled with the waist string, he added, "I won't trouble
you that way again."
" Twas no trouble," Fand said " Twasn't much of any-
thing at all, if you take my meaning. And isn't that a
strange thing, now? The gods know I looked for the two
of us to break, but I thought 'twould be after a grand
shindy we'd both remember all our days. But here we
are, just—quits."
"Quits," Gerin echoed dully. He leaned over and kissed
her, not on the mouth but on the cheek. "It was always
lively while it lasted, wasn't it? If it's come to the point
where it's not any more, as well we give it up."
'Truth there." Fand sent him an anxious look. "You'd
not throw me out of Fox Keep because I'm your doxy
no more, would you?"
He laughed. "And have Van come after me with that
mace of his? Not likely. No, you're welcome to bide here
as long as you like—provided you don't drive everyone
around you utterly mad That may not be so easy for
you." He chuckled to show he didn't expect to be taken
altogether seriously.
"Och, when I'm the only one right and the whole world
beside me wrong, how can I not speak out plain?" But
Fand laughed, too. "I ken what you'll tell me—you wish
I'd find a way. Well, I'll try, indeed and I will. What comes
of it we'll have to see."
He nodded and got to his feet. Walking to the door-
way felt strange. He'd never parted from a longtime
lover before. Elise had parted from him, and without
a word of warning, but that wasn't the same thing.
With his hand on the bar, he turned back and said,

280
Harry Turtledove
"Good-bye." The word came out funereally somber.
Maybe that crossed Fands mind, too, for she said,
"I've not died, y'know, nor yet headed back to the for-
ests. I'll be down for porridge come the dawn, same as
always." But she also seemed to feel the moment "It
won't be the same any more, will it?"
"No, but it's likely better this way. If we did go on long
enough, we'd have ended up hating each other." Some-
thing of that had happened with him and Elise, though
there it had been quiet and one-sided till it burst out
when she left
If he stayed by the door talking, he was liable to end
up talking himself out of what he'd resolved to do. He
swung up the bar. Fand came over to lower it after he
left She smiled a farewell as he stepped out into the
hallway, closed the door after him.
From her chamber to his was only a few strides. In
the moment he needed to step between them, Selatre
came down the hall, probably on her way to the
garderobe. She'd seen Fand's door close. She looked
from it to Gerin and back again, then kept walking with-
out a word or another glance.
His face heated. The kindest thing Selatre could think
of him was that he'd just slaked his lust. He wanted to
run down the hall after her and explain that he and Fand
weren't going to do that sort of thing any more, but he
didn't think she'd listen.
"What's the use?" he muttered, and opened the door
to his own chamber. He closed it after himself, threw off
his clothes, and flung himself down onto the bed. The
straw-stuffed mattress shifted back and forth on the grid
of rawhide straps that supported it. The slow, rolling
motion made Gerin feel as if he were on a chariot just
setting out
In a litde while, Selatre's soft footsteps came back up

Prince of the North
281
the hall as she returned to the chamber he'd given her.
They didn't pause in front of Fand's doorway, nor in front
of his. If anything, they sped up.
Silence returned. Outside, the moons wheeled
through their endless dance: Tiwaz full, Elleb lost in the
bright skirts of the sun, Math waxing between first quar-
ter and full, Nothos waning from full toward third quar-
ter. Gerin got up and stared through his narrow window
at the multiple shadows the moons cast
Nothos had climbed almost to his high point in the
sky before the Fox finally slept
After a couple of days of thought, Gerin did appoint
Rihwin his envoy to Aragis the Archer. He would sooner
have fared south himself, but dared not, not with so many
things poised to go wrong close to home.
'Tell him how things are here," he said to Rihwin.
'The alliance I offer is equal, neither of us to have any
claim of superiority over the other. If he doesn't care for
that, to the five hells with him. And Rihwin, my fellow
Fox, my friend, my colleague—"
"Ah, now that you've sweetened it, here comes the
gibe," Rihwin said
"If you choose to take it as one, aye," Gerin answered.
'To me, it was just going to be a remark your nature
makes me make. What I was going to say is this: for
Dyaus' sake, don't get cute."
"I?" Rihwin was the picture of offended dignity. "What
could you possibly mean?"
"What I said I've met Aragis. He has about as much
laughter and merriment in him as a chamber pot does,
but he's anything but stupid Stick to the matter at hand
with him and you'll do fine. Get away from it—start tell-
ing jokes, drink too much ale, anything of the sort—and
all you'll earn from him is contempt I don't want that to

282
Harry Turtledove
rub off on me, because you re going there as my agent
Is that dear?"
"If you don't care for the way I do things, send Drago
the Bear," Rihwin said suMy. "Hell do exactly as you
say—he hasn't the wit to do anything else."
'That's why I'm sending you," Gerin answered "But
you need to understand what's riding on this, and that I
don't want any of your japes and scrapes as you fere
south. You may not be able to help it; I know they're in
your blood Do your best all the same."
Rihwin's features registered anger, resignation, and
amusement, all in the space of a couple of breaths. At
last he said, "Very well, lord prince. I shall essay the role
of a sobersided nitpicker: in short, I shall model my con-
duct on you in all regards." As if that were not enough,
he added, "To make the impression complete, I shall
seek to carry off any nubile female relative the Grand
Duke may happen to have." He cocked his head to one
side to see what impression that had on Gerin.
The Fox started to scowl, started to curl his hands into
fists, but gave up and threw them in the air while he broke
out laughing. "You, sirrah, are incorrigible," he declared
"I certainly do hope so," Rihwin answered blithely.
"Now that we've setded how I'm to comport myself on
this embassy, with how large a retinue am I to be
entrusted?"
"Four chariots and teams feels about right to me,"
Gerin said "Any more and you'd look like an invasion;
any fewer and you're liable not to get through. What say
you to that, my fellow Fox?"
"It strikes me as about the right number," Rihwin said
"If you'd said I was to go alone, I wouldn't have gone.
Had you put me in charge of a dozen chariots rather
than a dozen men, I'd have assumed you'd gone daft:—
more daft than usual, I should say."

Prince of the North
283
'Tor this ringing endorsement of my faculties, I thank
you," Gerin said "Now go ready yourself I want you to
leave before sunset The matter grows too urgent to admit
of much more delay"
"If you and Aragis together can t control what hap-
pens in the northlands, who can?" Rihwin asked
"Adiatunnus, perhaps," Gerin said Rihwin looked
startled, then made a sour face, and finally nodded He
began a prostration such as he might have offered to the
Emperor of Elabon. Had he actually got down on his
belly, Gerin would have kicked him in the ribs without
hesitation. But he stopped with the obeisance half made
and went off to get ready to travel.
Gerin felt better now that he'd made his decision. He
was doing something, not waiting on Adiatunnus and
the monsters to do something to him. That desire to see
something, no matter what, happen had brought others
down. He knew as much. But waiting to be ruined did
not sit well with him, either.
He walked back into the keep from the courtyard
He didn't know how badly his raid had hurt Adiatunnus,
but at the least it must have made the Trokme thought-
ful, for the Fox had had no reports of woodsrunners on
his side of the border since. Not many monsters had
gone after his peasants, either. To him, that made the
raid something worth doing, too.
Van and Fand were sitting in the great hall, jacks of
ale in front of them. Van gnawed on a mutton shank left
over from the night before. When Gerin came in, Fand
pushed herself closer on the bench to the outlander, as
if to say the Fox couldn't take her away from him. But
Gerin was mostly relieved not to have to look forward to
their next tiff. If Van wanted to stay with her, he wouldn't
stand in his friend's way.
He dipped up a jack of ale for himself and sat down

284
Harry Turtledove
across from the close-knit couple. After a pull at the jack,
he told Van what he'd done.
The oudander considered it, nodded gravely. "If your
pride won't keep you from working in harness with
Aragis, it's probably the best move you could make."
"If it's between pride and survival, I know which to
choose," Gerin said
Fand sniffed 'Where's die spirit in that? A serf would
say as much."
Gerin started to brisde, then reminded himself he
didn't have to let her outrage him. "Have it however
you'd like," he said "I can only answer for myself." He
drained the jack, set it down on the table in front of him,
and got to his feet. "A veiy good morning to you both.
Now, by your leave, I have other things to attend to."
As he headed for the stairway, he felt Fand's eyes on
his back. She didn't say anything, though; maybe she
was also reminding herself that they didn't have to quar-
rel. On the other hand, he thought, maybe she was just
speechless that he hadn't risen to her bait.
Upstairs, he hurried down the hall toward the library
He'd been doing that ever since he came back from south
of the High Kirs; when he was with his books, he could
remember the scholar he'd wanted to become and forget
the baron the gods had decidedhe would be. Had his foot-
steps grown quicker yet since he started teaching Selatre
her letters? Well, what if they haveP he asked himself.
She was waiting for him when he got there. She was
not the sort to sit idle; she had a spindle and some wool,
and was busy making thread She smiled and put down
the spindle when he came through the door. "Now for
something my wits can work on, not my hands," she said,
SO!^ding as if she looked forward to the switch,
i	nature of the gods," Gerin said, pulling
a scroll from the pigeonhole where it rested.

Prince of the North
285
"Ah, good," she said briskly. "My own life was so bound
up with Biton that I know less of the rest of the gods
than I should, especially seeing how my circumstances
have changed." She no longer sounded bitter, only mat-
ter-of-fact
The Fox slipped the velvet cover from the scroll,
worked the handles until he reached the section he and
Selatre were going to read. "Ah, today we come to the
god—" His voice changed. "Here, read it for yourself."
"Mavrix," Selatre said, sounding out the name. She'd
caught Gerin's sudden shift of tone. "Why does the
Sithonian god of wine—what's the word I want?—dis-
turb you?'
"Raise my hackles, you mean?' Gerin shivered. 'We've
had dealings, Mavrix and I. I'd guess the god's not happy
with them, and I know I'm not If it weren't for Mavrix,
Rihwin would still be a mage. If it weren't— But never
mind all that now; I can tell it another time. Just read me
what our deathless author set down on parchment" Irony
filled his voice. The scroll was a thoroughly humdrum
compilation of the deities worshiped by the various
peoples of the Elabonian Empire. He would gladly have
replaced it with a more interesting volume on the same
theme, had he been lucky enough to stumble across one.
Selatre was not yet at the point where she could
appreciate fine points of style. She fought her way through
words and sentences, seizing meaning as best she could
" 'Mavrix, the god of wine native to Sithonia,'" she read,
" 'is also widely reverenced in Elabon. His votaries are
even found north of the High Kirs, although all wine in
that distant province is of necessity imported'"
'The scroll says it, but I never knew of Mavrix's cult
up here," Gerin said "Still and all, when Rihwin invoked
him in a minor magic, he appeared—not to do Rihwin's
bidding, but to punish him for associating with me."

286
Harry Turtledove
"And why did the god see fit to do that?" Selatre asked
Before the Fox could answer, she held up a hand 'Tell
me another time, as you said I resume: The cult of
Mavrix is held in chief repute by those who have litde
happiness in their lives. In the release they take from
wine and from the orgiastic nature of his worship, they
find the pleasure otherwise lacking to them.' Does
orgiastic mean what I think it does?"
"Every sort of excess?" Gerin asked. Selatre nodded
Gerin said, 'Thats what it means, all right. Go on; you're
doing very well."
'Thank you." Selatre started reading again: " The
Emperors of Elabon sometimes persecuted those who
took part in Mavrix's rites when Sithonia was a newly
acquired province. Like much else Sithonian, however,
the god's cult has become an accepted part of Elabonian
life in recent years, and the cry "Evoii!" is often heard all
through the Empire.'"
"I've heard it," Gerin said "If I never hear it again, I'll
be just as glad. Mavrix is a powerful god, but not one
whom I care to worship. I like order too well to be easy
with the lawlessness the lord of the sweet grape fosters."
Selatre clicked her tongue between her teeth. 'The
lord Biton is also a patron of order and reason, so I
understand what you are saying, and yet—may I read
on?"
"Seems you already have, if you know what comes
next in the scroll," Gerin said. "You read that with just
your eyes alone, didn't you? Not many can do that so
soon; quite a few have to say the words to themselves no
matter how long they've been reading."
"You don't," Selatre said "I tried to imitate you."
After a few seconds, he said, "I can't think of the last
time anyone paid me a compliment like that Thank you."
He let out a wry chuckle. "Not that you're likely to find

Prince of the North
287
the way most folks go by looking to me for a guide/'
"I think you have the better way," Selatre said, which
produced a longer silence, especially since, as Gerin
noted, she didn't qualify the comment with here or any
such thing. She looked down at the scroll again and read
some more:" 'Mavrix is also the god who chiefly inspires
poets and other artists, and is the patron of the drama.
His love for beauty is well known.' " She looked up from
the scroll. "Those are worthy attributes for a god, I think."
"Oh, indeed." Germ's voice was dry. "Our chronicler
here, though, is a rather—hmm, how should I put it?—
a reticent man, shall we say. Among other ways, the god's
love for beauty' manifests itself as a passion for pretty
boys."
He wondered how Selatre would take that, and
whether she'd even understand what he was talking
about Both the Sithonians and their gods were fonder
of pederasty than the northlands peasants among whom
she'd spent her life until Biton chose her for his own.
But she must have figured out what he meant, for she
laughed heartily. Then, sobering, she said, "Is that writ-
ten down in one of your other books? If not, it may be
lost"
"Do you know, I'm not sure," Gerin answered "You've
just made me sure of one thing, though, not that I wasn't
already: I couldn't have found anyone better to oversee
this library."
"Now you compliment me," she said. "In turn, I want
to thank you once more for bringing me here to tend
your books. It's not the life I had, but it's far more than I
had any reason to hope for."
This time, she didn't just set her hand on his, she
clasped it, nor did she pull away when he returned the
pressure. He started to lean forward to kiss her, then
hesitated, not from lack of desire but out of a scrupulous

288
Harry Turtledove
sense of fairness. He said, "If you're drawn to me, think
on why. If it's only because I'm the one who brought you
out of Ikos and helped show you how to live in the wider
world, think on whether that's reason enough."
She laughed at him. She couldn't have surprised him
more if she'd burst into flame. "I am a woman grown,
lord Gerin, and you are not my father." As was her way,
she sobered fast. "What you are with the lady Fand is
something else again, especially in light of what I saw
the other night"
That sobered Gerin in turn. Slowly, he said, 'The thing
is dead. Aye, you saw me leave her chamber." He sighed.
"Aye, we'd been to bed—what point denying it when it's
so? We won't do that again—no sense to it, not when it
was as it was. If she and Van get along, I wish them noth-
ing but joy. If they don't, I probably ought to wish him a
hide as hard and thick as his corselet"
"So you should." She smiled again, but not for long.
"And is it because what you and Fand knew is dead that
you now show an interest in me?"
"Maybe in part," he answered, which surprised her.
He quickly added, "But only in small part, I'd say. More—
far more—is that you are as you are. Believe me or not,
as you will." One of his eyebrows rose, a sort of punctua-
tion by expression. "Besides, you were the one who took
my hand I wouldn't have presumed to do such a thing,
not with you being who you are."
"I noticed that," Selatre said "You'd promised as much
when you took me away from Ikos, but who knows what
a man's promises are worth till they're tested? When I
saw you meant what you said, I—" She didn't go on, but
looked down at the scroll in front of her. Unlike Fand's,
her skin did not usually show much color, but she flushed
now.
"You decided you wanted to take the first step," Gerin

Prince of the North
289
said. Selatre kept her eyes on the scroll but, almost
imperceptibly, she nodded.
Gerin plucked at his beard. What he'd known with
Fand had gone beyond the pleasure of the bedchamber,
but not far beyond; there was a core of himself he'd
never yielded. He'd done that only once, with
Elise... and after what came of that, he was wary—no,
frightened, he told himself—of risking it again. But if he
involved himself with Selatre, he would have to risk it;
he could feel as much already.
Do you want to spend the rest of your days alone
inside? he wondered. Itwas easier; it was safer; it was, in
the end, empty.
"Are you sure?" he asked Saying the words was almost
as hard as going into battle.
Selatre nodded, a Htde less hesitandy. With something
of the feeling of a man diving into deep water, Gerin
leaned toward her. He wondered if she would know how
to kiss; she'd said she'd been consecrated to Biton ever
since her courses failed to start when she reached wom-
anhood.
But her lips met his firmly; her mouth opened and
her tongue played with his. It was, in fact, quite as satis-
factory a kiss as he'd ever had. When at last they broke
apart, he said, "Where did you learn that?"
"In my village, of course." She looked puzzled for a
moment, then burst out laughing again. "Oh, I see—
you expected me to be not just a maiden but ignorant as
well. No. Some of the young men there couldn't have
cared less that the god had set his mark on me. I knew I
couldn't yield my body to them, but that doesn't mean I
led an altogether empty life."
"Oh," he said in a small voice. "I hadn't thought of
that. When you said Biton had chosen you, I suppose I
thought you'd lived solitary from that time on."

290
Harry Turtledove
"No," Selatre said again. "It wasn't like that, not until
the god called to himself the Sibyl that was and chose
me in her place—though only for a brief time." Her
face clouded for a moment, then cleared. "But I must
say you were right: if that time is ended, I have to live
the rest of my life as best I can."
This time, she leaned toward him. The kiss went on
and on. His arms closed around her. She stiffened when
he cupped her breast with one hand. He took the hand
away. "If you're not ready, just let me know," he said. He
still wasn't sure how fast he wanted to charge ahead with
her. Had he been a few years younger, lust would have
overridden thought, but those days were past him, even
if Van still sometimes thought more with his crotch than
with his head
Selatre said, "Having come this far, I think it's time to
finish the job of returning me to the world I've heard it
can hurt the first time, but if you know hurt may be
coming, it's easier to bear."
"I hope I won't hurt you, or not badly," Gerin said
"When I was down in the City of Elabon, another stu-
dent there had a scroll on the proper way to deflower a
maiden as gently as possible. What it said made good
sense, though I confess I've never needed to use it till
now."
'They write books about that?' Selatre said, her eyes
wide. "If you had one of those in your library here, Gerin,
think how many more people you could win to reading."
"You're right, I expect," he said, remembering the
illustrations with which the scribe had enlivened the scroll.
Then he noticed Selatre had called him by his name alone,
without the honorific she'd always used before. It startled
him for a moment Then he laughed at himself. If they
were about to be intimate, didn't she have the right to
address him intimately?

Prince of the North
291
He was never sure afterwards which of them got up
first from the table in the library: They walked side by
side down the hall toward his bedchamber. With any
other woman, he would have slipped his arm around
her waist. With Selatre, he still held back in spite of what
they were going to the bedroom to do. If she wanted to
touch him before then, she could
They were three or four strides from the door when
the lookout in the watchtower winded his horn. Gerin
stopped dead. Grinding his teeth, he said, "Oh, a pesti-
lence! Not now, by all the gods."
He couldn't read Selatre s face. Was that wry amuse-
ment there, or maybe relief? If they didn't seize the
chance now, would she change her mind later? What
was he supposed to do if she did? Pretend nothing had
happened? Or—?
Then the lookout shouted, "Lord Gerin, Rihwin the
Fox is heading back toward Fox Keep."
<cWhat?" Gerin exclaimed, his worries about Selatre
forgotten. "I only sent him out two days ago. He can't
even have got out of the land I hold, let alone to Aragis'
and back. Has he lost his wits? Has he lost his nerve?"
Selatre said, "You'd better go and see what that's about
Other things can wait for their own time."
"Yes," he said abstractedly. That sounded promising,
even if she hadn't promised anything. He barely noticed
He was already trotting for the stairs. Selatre followed
more slowly.
Gerin s trot went to a run as soon as he got down to
the great hall. He dashed out into the courtyard, sprinted
for the gate. Someone called from up on the palisade: "I
see Rihwin and the chariot crews that went out with him,
lord prince, but he's got more crews with him than just
those. Not men I recognize, neither."
The drawbridge was already creaking down over the

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Harry Turtledove
ditch around the palisade. Panting a little, Gerin waited
impatiently for it to drop far enough to let him see out
At last, it (id. Sure enough, there was Rihwin s chariot in
the lead, but he was bringing back twice as many crews
as he'd set out with.
No sooner had the drawbridge thumped into place
than Gerin walked across it. The quicker he found out
what madness Rihwin was perpetrating now, the quicker
he could start figuring out how to deal with it—if it could
be dealt with. He was getting tired of having to clean up
Rihwin's messes, especially when they were as exquis-
itely mistimed as this one.
Seeing Gerin, Rihwin waved "Hail, lord prince," he
called. 'The business of going to Aragis' holding just got
easier."
Gerin waited till Rihwin got close enough so he
wouldn't have to scream, then demanded, "What on
earth are you talking about, you—jackanapes? How can
you be gone two days and come back claiming success?
And who are these ruffians you've brought along with
you?'
He hadn't had much hope of cowing the irrepressible
Rihwin, but he hadn't expected him to break out in guf-
faws, either. "Your pardon, lord prince," Rihwin said
when he could speak, though he didn't sound a bit sorry.
He went on, "Allow me to present acquaintances made
on the Elabon Way: Fabors Fabur's son and Marlanz
Raw-Meat, envoys sent by the Grand Duke Aragis the
Archer to discuss terms of alliance with you."
"Lord prince," two of the strangers said together.
After they bowed, one of them added, in a voice almost
as deep as Van's, "I'm Marlanz." He was young, broad-
shouldered, and burly, with the look of a man for whom
fighting was a favorite sport. Fabors was older and, Gerin
guessed, likely to be smarter (although sometimes men

Prince of the North
293
who looked like nothing but bluff warriors were a lot
smarter than they seemed).
"Well" Gerin said That was better than standing there
with his mouth open, but not much. He tried again, but
only, 'Well," emerged once more. On a third effort, he
managed coherent speech: 'Well, lords, I would be lying
if I said I wasn't glad to see you. You are most welcome.
Come into my keep, you and all your comrades. Drink
of my ale; eat of my meat; you shall be my guest-friends
here."
"Lord prince, you are gracious," Fabors Fabur's son
said. Marlanz Raw-Meat nodded vigorously Fabors went
on, "Should you ride south, know that my keep shall be
as your own for as long as you care to use it."
"And mine," Marlanz agreed.
"Come, come," Gerin said, and stood aside so the
chariots—both those that had started out with Rihwin
and those that had come north with Aragis' vassals—
could cross over the drawbridge and into Casde Fox.
Stable boys hurried out to take charge of the horses
and chariots. They gaped, big-eyed, at the newcomers.
Gerin's warriors crowded round him, lest the men who'd
accompanied Marlanz and Fabors had treachery in mind
Marlanz stared at Van. "I've heard tales of you, sir,"
he said, "and, knowing how taletellers lie, thought to
measure myself against you. I see I'm liable to have put
myself too high."
"If you can fight as well as you talk, sir, you'll do well
enough for yourself, I expect," Van answered Marlanz
bowed Van bowed back. Gerin was reminded of two
big dogs sniffing at each other.
"Come, lords," he said again. As he crossed the thresh-
old into the great hall, he called to the servants: "Ale for
my guest-friends. Aye, and carve some steaks from that
cow we slew last night, too, and set 'em over the fire."

294	Harry Turtledove
"Just singe mine, light as you can," Marlanz put in. "I
cant abide beef cooked all gray and tough as shoe leather"
The slab of meat the servants slapped down in front
of Marlanz on a round of flatbread was so red and juicy
that the Fox expected it to bellow in pain when he stuck
a knife in it, but he attacked it with every sign of relish.
Gerin had no trouble figuring out how he'd come by his
ekename.
Selatre had been standing back by the stairway. Gerin
waved her forward, patted the bench beside him. Fabors
Fabur's son raised an eyebrow. "Have you at last wed
again, lord prince?" he asked. "Word of this had not
reached the Archer's Nest"
"Good name for a keep," Gerin remarked, unsurprised
that Aragis kept close track of what he did—he made it
his business to learn all he could of Aragis, too. To answer
the question the Archer's man had put, he went on, "Lord
Fabors, lord Marlanz, allow me to present you to the
lady Selatre, who was Sibyl at Ikos until the earthquake
overthrew Biton's shrine there and loosed the monsters
long trapped under it"
Marlanz had started to bristle at being introduced to
a woman rather than the other way round, but com-
posed himself at once when he learned who Selatre was.
"Sibyl," he murmured respectfully, bowing in his seat
"Sibyl no more," she said "Simply Selatre... and who
Selatre is remains in large part to be discovered" Her
eyes slid to Gerin. The arrival of the envoys had inter-
rupted part of that discovery.
That arrival had also touched off enough commotion
to bring Fand down to find out what was going on. Her
eyes narrowed when she saw Selatre beside the Fox; she
came over and sat down next to Van. Gerin introduced
her to Aragis' vassals as the outlander's companion. Van
nodded at that, though he didn't seem quite certain he

Prince of the North
295
was pleased Fabors Fabur's son looked thoughtful, but
held his peace—here was more news that had not
reached the Archer's Nest
After the sharing of food and drink had made them
his guest-friends, Gerin said to Fabors and Marlanz,
"Well, lords, I know why you've come—on the same
mission for which I sent Rihwin south. I daresay you'll
have discussed it with him as you came here. What con-
clusions have you reached?"
"Lord prince, our overlord the Grand Duke Aragis
sent us north with virtually the same terms for an alli-
ance in mind as you gave to Rihwin the Fox—a fine
fellow, I might add," Fabors said. 'The Archer favors an
equal alliance between himself and you for as long as
that remains agreeable to both parties, overall command
to depend on whether the fighting is north or south of
Ikos."
"There's a nice touch," Gerin said approvingly. "I'd
simply assumed we'd share the lead. Well, lords, as you
say, I think we'll get along nicely. Since the earthquake,
I've heard little from south of Ikos. Tell me how Aragis'
lands fare, if you would be so kind"
Marlanz gulped down the ale in his jack before
answering, "Imagine wolves in a hard winter, coming
out of the woods to kill sheep and shepherds, too. Then
imagine that ten times worse, and you'll have some idea
of the state we're in. These cursed creatures have more
wit than wolves, and they have hands, too, so nothing is
safe from them. The serfs are afraid to go out into the
fields, but staying huddledin their huts does 'em no good,
either. I'm sure you know how that goes, lord prince."
"Only too well," Gerin answered grimly. His vassals in
the great hall nodded. The Fox went on, "Have the more
clever monsters joined together with any of Aragis' neigh-
bors to make his life even more delightful?"

296
Harry Turtledove
"No, lord prince," Marlanz and Fabors chorused
Fabors added "When your vassal the lord Rihwin told
us of their dealings with Adiatunnus—may he roast in
the hottest hell forever—we both cried out in horror."
'That we did," Marlanz Raw-Meat agreed "It speaks
well of your strength here that you've held off such a
dreadful combination where we faced only the mon-
sters, yet Aragis saw the need to send us forth before
you put your vassal on the road to look for his aid"
"Don't put too much into it," Gerin said. "It may just
mean I'm more stubborn and less trusting of my neigh-
bors than the grand duke."
"Meaning no offense to you, lord prince, I find that
hard to picture," Fabors Fabur's son said Marlanz nod-
ded vigorously.
"I think you may have insulted your own lord rather
than me, but have it as you will," Gerin said. "Since mat-
ters are as they are, I am going to propose that Aragis
first send such chariotry as he can north to aid my forces
against Adiatunnus, the monsters, and a few worthless,
faithless Elabonians who have joined with them. If he
can do that, how soon can he do it, and how many chari-
ots can he spare from his own concerns?"
"Lord prince, I think he can do it, and I think he can
send the cars not long after we return with word the
deal has been struck," Fabors answered "How many he
can send, he shall have to judge for himself. He's spread
his chariots and crews widely through the keeps of the
lands he holds, and told his peasants to send up fire sig-
nals if theirvfllages are attacked Thus aid can reach them
as soon as may be."
'That's not the worst ploy in the world for keeping the
serfs safe," Rihwin said "Why didn't you try something
like it, my fellow Fox?"
"It's like covering your belly after somebody hits you,

Prince of the North
297
then moving one hand to your face when he hits you
there," Gerin answered. "Or, if you'll let me change my
figure of speech, I'd rather dig an arrowhead out of the
wound than slap a bandage on it with the point still in
there."
"You're a man of sense, lord prince," Marlanz Raw-
Meat said. 'The grand duke himself has been thinking
hard about changing the way he's fighting the cursed
creatures—says it's like being nibbled to death by fleas,
Between his men and yours, we ought to have a force
strong enough to really do something, not just try to hit
back when things get done to us."
That's my hope," Gerin agreed. That's why I sought
alliance with him." As Marlanz had said, even though
Aragis was threatened only by monsters, he'd felt the
need for help before Gerin, who also had the Trokmoi
to worry about. Hitting back as hard as he could had let
the Fox keep his foes off balance.
Together, we'll smash them," Marlanz said, slamming
his fist down onto the table so that drinking jacks jumped.
Fabors Fabur's son nodded but did not speak. When it
came to negotiating terms for the alliance, he seemed to
have authority; Marlanz spoke with more weight on mat-
ters stricdy military.
"Are we in accord, lords?" Gerin asked. Both of Aragis'
envoys nodded. The Fox said, Then shall we take oaths
to bind us to our enterprise. I will take them with you as
Aragis' representatives. I know he will expect them of
me, as he and I have not always been on the best of
terms since Elabon pulled out of the northlands."
"And you will expect them no less of him, you're say-
ing," Fabors remarked. "He expected as much, and
authorized us to swear on his behalf, binding him to the
pact in the eyes of the gods. And you are correct: he
does desire your oath as well."

298
Harry Turtledove
"Cooperation first; trust can come later/' Gerin said
"And whether he authorized it or not, the laws of simi-
larity and contagion bind you to him and him to the
pact; I am mage enough to work through them at need
I hope we shall have no need. By which gods would
Aragis have us swear?"
"None out of the ordinary, lord prince," Fabors
answered "Dyaus the king of heaven, of course, and
Biton for foresight—that his Sibyl is here will only lend
the oath more force—and, because we're fighting not
least to keep our serfs safe, Baivers and Mavrix as well"
A prickle of alarm ran through the Fox. 'Would not
Baivers suffice on his own? Mavrix and I... have not
got on well in the past"
"So lord Rihwin told us," Fabors said By the way his
eyes slid toward Rihwin, the tale had been juicy, too.
But he took a deep breath and resumed "Nonetheless,
my suzerain was particular about wanting the lord of the
sweet grape included in the oath. Baivers, said he, has
power only over ale and barley, while Mavrix, along with
being the god of wine, is also associated with fertility in
general, and hence a protector of farmers."
That, unfortunately, made too much theological sense
for Gerin to come up with a glib way around it He
remembered that he and Selatre had been reading about
Mavrix when they acknowledged their attraction for each
other; lust was also part of the Sithonian god's domain.
Maybe that had been an omen. Gerin might not want
anything to do with Mavrix, but if the converse didn't
hold true, how was he supposed to oppose the gods will?
He sighed—he saw no way. "Let it be as the grand
duke wishes," he said "I have but one reservation: if he
fails to send at least thirty chariots and crews, and if they
fail to reach here within thirty days, I shall no longer
reckon myself bound by the terms of the oath."

Prince of the North
299
Fabors and Marlanz put their heads together and
talked quietly with each other for a couple of minutes.
At last Fabors nodded Tt shall be as you say."
Gerin and Aragis' envoys clasped hands and swore
the oath, binding themselves and, through Marlanz and
Fabors, Aragis to the terms upon which they'd agreed
Then the Fox called to the kitchen crew: "Slaughter us
another cow. We'll burn the fat-wrapped thighbones on
Dyaus' altar, that their savor may climb to heaven and
make him look kindly on our cause."
"And we'll eat the rest ourselves," Van boomed
"Remember, Til want my portion barely cooked,"
Marlanz added hastily
Gerin walked upstairs to his bedchamber carrying a
lamp. He set each foot down in turn with deliberate
care; he was a little drunk and very full. He opened the
door, set the lamp on a chest of drawers, and started to
take off his tunic. As soon as he'd undressed, he would
blow out the lamp.
Someone knocked on the door. He almost got trapped
in the tunics sleeves as he pulled it back down. Fabors
Fabur's son had been spinning a long, involved explana-
tion of why Aragis insisted on having Mavrix in the oath—
so long and involved, in fact, that Gerin wondered if the
real reason was that the Archer knew of his trouble with
the god—and hadn't wanted to stop even when the Fox
yawned his way out of the great hall. If Fabors was out
there now wanting to natter away some more, Gerin
aimed to teach him never to do anything so foolish again.
He threw the door wide. But the load he'd planned to
dump on Fabors' head turned into a coughing fit, for
Fabors wasn't standing out there. Selatre was.
Listening to him splutter, she asked, "Are you all
right?" in tones of real concern. When he managed a

300
Harry Turtledove
nod, she said, "Well then, shall we go on from where we
were, uh, interrupted this afternoon?"
"Are you sure?' he asked; she nodded in turn. He went
on, "I didn't come to your chamber tonight because—"
He came to a ragged stop, not sure how to go on.
"For fear I'd lost my nerve, you mean?" Selatre said
'That's just it," Gerin said gratefully.
"I wondered why you stayed away," Selatre said "The
only two things I could think of were that on the one
hand and that you didn't really want me on the other. I
thought I'd better find out which it was."
"If you don't know the answer to that—" Gerin ran
dry again. After a moment, he resumed: "If you don't
know the answer to that, I'll just have to show you." He
took a step to one side to let Selatre come into the
bedchamber. He shut the door behind her, barred it,
then glanced over to the flickering lamp on the chest of
drawers. "Shall I blow that out?"
"However you'd rather," she answered after her usual
grave consideration. "It certainly would have been light
had we come here earlier in the day, though." .
"So it would," he agreed. "Well, then—" Feeling fool-
ish at echoing what she'd said a few moments before, he
stepped forward, took her in his arms, and kissed her. As
he'd discovered in the library, her knowledge of that por-
tion of the game was enjoyably more than theoretical.
When their lips parted at last, she murmured, "Did
you learn that in the book you were telling me of? If you
did, I'd like to read it."
"Er—no," he answered "And, as I said, I don't have a
copy here in Fox Keep."
"That's too bad," Selatre said, quite seriously. "You
really should write down what you remember of it—
and what you've learned other places as well." She
brought her mouth toward his again.

Prince of the North
301
After some long, pleasurable time, he led her over to
the bed. He was sure she couldn't be altogether igno-
rant of what went on between men and women—after
all, she'd grown up in a peasant hut which, if it was like
all the other peasant huts he'd known, would have
boasted one room and in that room one bed for the whole
family. But knowing how things happened and having
them happen to her might be two different matters,
especially when, not long before, she hadn't been able to
stand a man touching her at all, let alone in her most
secret places.
She hesitated with her hands at the neck of her tunic.
"Do you want me to blow out the lamp after all?" he
asked
Selatre shook her head, perhaps as much at herself as
toward Gerin. Almost defiandy, she pulled the tunic up
over her head, then kicked off her sandals and got out of
her long wool skirt and the linen drawers she wore
beneath it Gerin had known she was well made, but
hadn't realized how well. If he stared too much, he might
fluster her. The only way to keep from staring was to
undress himself. He did that, quickly, and lay down on
the bed
Selatre hesitated again before joining him there. The
soft straw of the mattress rusded as her weight came
down on it "Forgive me," she said. "I am—nervous."
"No reason you shouldn't be, and every reason you
should," he said. "First times come only once."
She nodded "What did your book say we're supposed
to do next?"
"Not any one thing in particular," he answered "If I
remember aright, it says I'm supposed to kiss you and
caress you for a long time to make you easy in your mind
and to help make your body ready for what we'll do after
that" He smiled at her. "I'd want to do that anyhow."

302
Harry Turtledove
He embraced her, drew her to him. She started to
pull back when their bare bodies met—that was touch-
ing of a different sort from what she'd known before.
But she checked herself managed a smile in return.
When he kissed her, she kissed him back.
'That tickles," she said as his tongue slid down the
smooth, soft skin of her neck. Then it found the tip of
her right breast. "Ah," she murmured, a syllable all breath
and no voice.
After some time, he let his mouth stray lower. The
sound she made was half surprise, half pleasure. He'd
forgotten about the book; he enjoyed what he was doing
for its own sake.
"Oh, my," she said a little while later. "I'd expected
one surprise, but two? Is that something you brought
back with you from south of the High Kirs?"
"As a matter of fact, no," he answered. But then, who
could guess what would be done in a peasant village
outside of Ikos?
"Well, wherever you learned it, it's—■" She didn't go
on in words, but the pause and the delighted expression
on her face said enough. After a moment, she added,
"Could I do the same for you?"
"You could, but probably not for very long right now,"
Gerin said. "Let's try something else instead." He sat up
on the bed "Here, why don't you get onto my lap?'
She straddled him, which he hadn't expected quite
yet; she did know the theory of what they were going to
do. He took himself in hand She lowered herself onto
him, slowly and cautiously. "It doesn't hurt," she said,
and then, a heartbeat later, "Wait. There."
"Yes," Gerin said "Do you want to stop? No rush
here." She shook her head "AH right, then," he said, and
took hold of her buttocks, easing her down until he was
fleshed to the root—that was what the racily illustrated

Prince of the North	303
scroll in the City of Elabon had recommended, and it
seemed to work well. "Is it all right?" he asked.
"It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would," she
said, nodding. "You were gentle. Thank you."
He kissed her and ran his hands over her body. When
he was sure she'd meant what she said, he began to move
inside her, slowly, a little at a time, not hurrying at all.
His left hand slid down between her legs to add to her
pleasure—or perhaps to create it, as few women were
likely to find full joy from coupling itself their first time.
His own pleasure built slowly. He let that happen,
rather than straining to quicken it. When at last it reached
its peak, it was all the more intense because of the long,
unhurried climb to get there. He closed his eyes and
squeezed Selatre hard against him.
There was a little blood when she slid off him, but not
much. He wondered what she'd thought Not looking at
him, she said, more than half to herself, "I'm so sorry for
all the Sibyls who died without ever knowing this."
He set a hand on her bare shoulder. Instead of pull-
ing away, she snuggled against him. He said, "I made
two alliances today. This is the better one."
"Oh yes," she said "Oh yes."

IX
Aragis' envoys rode out at dawn two days later. Gerin
cordially loathed getting up with the sun, but made a
point of seeing them off. He glanced up into the sky and
pointed to golden Math, which, three days past full, was
sliding toward the western horizon. "Lords, she makes
her turn in nine-and-twenty days," he said to Marlanz
and Fabors. "By the next time she reaches that phase, I
hope to have the Grand Duke's chariots fighting along-
side mine."
"We shall do everything in our power to make it so,"
Fabors Fabur's son said
"Aye, that should give us time for travel and for gath-
ering the men and cars," Marlanz Raw-Meat added "I
hope the Archer orders me north again. Fighting the
monsters and the Trokmoi at the same time would be
worth die candle, I think."
Gerin had seen a good many men, Trokmoi and
Elabonians both (to say nothing of Van), who loved war
for its own sake. He recognized that, but it baffled him
every time he ran into it He said, "I'd sooner not be
fighting at all, but sometimes you have no choice."
Marlanz sent him a curious look. 'Tour hand's not
cold in war, lord prince. You may not care for it, but you
do it well."
He probably had as much trouble understanding the
Fox as Gerin did with him—maybe more, if he didn't
make a practice of trying to see into the minds of people
different from him. Explaining seemed an unprofitable
use of time to Gerin, who contented himself with
304

Prince of the North
305
answering, 'If you don't do what needs doing, before
long you won't have the chance to do anything at all."
Marlanz weighed that—as Gerin had guessed on first
meeting him, he was smarter than he looked—and finally
nodded.
The drawbridge thumped down. Aragis' ambassadors
and the warriors who had come north to protect them
rolled across it and off toward the Elabon Way. The gate
crew hauled the bridge back up. Visitors to Fox Keep
were few in these days of disordered commerce, and
who could say what lurked in the not too distant woods?
For legitimate travelers, the bridge would come down
again. Meanwhile, Casde Fox was fortress first
Van came out of the keep, rubbing sleep from his
eyes. "So they're on their way south, are they?' he said
through a yawn. "We can use all the help we can find,
and that's a fact"
"I know," Gerin answered. "I didn't like the way
Adiatunnus mocked me at the fight in that clearing. We'll*
see how he laughs when he finds Aragis' chariots ranged
beside mine."
"Aye, that'll be a good thing, no doubt about it" Van
yawned again. "I want some bread and ale. Maybe they'll
make my wits start working."
'The Urfa nomads in die deserts south of Elabon
brew some sort of bitter drink that's supposed to keep
a man awake if he's tired and wake him up if he's all
fuzzy the way you are," Gerin said. He sighed. "lime
was when Urfa came up to Ikos to talk with the Sibyl.
We might have bought some of the berries from them.
Now the oracle at Ikos is no more, and even if it were
still there, the Urfa couldn't come up through Elabon
to get to it."
" The oracle at Ikos is no more,' " Van repeated as he
and the Fox walked back toward the great hall. He

306
Harry Turtledove
glancedoverto Gerin. 'The lady Selatre s still very much
here, though"
"So she is," Gerin said He and Selatre hadn't tried to
keep their becoming lovers a secret—not that they could
have even if they did try. Castle Fox had too many pairs
of eyes, too many wagging tongues, for that If he could,
Gerin would have looked down his nose at Van. The
oudander being considerably taller, he looked up it
instead. "So what?"
"So nothing, Captain," Van said hastily. "May you and
she have joy of it" He paused, then went on in a low-
voiced mumble, "And may the gods grant that I keep up
with Fand and don't decide to throttle her."
"There is that," Gerin observed Fand hadn't said any-
thing to him; one thing that had been plain to both of
them was that whatever they'd had was dead But when
she looked from him to Selatre, I told you so gleamed in
her green eyes. Shehad toldhim so, too, which only made
the look on her face more irksome. On the other hand,
Fand enjoyed getting people angry at her, so he refused to
give her the satisfaction of showing his annoyance.
Van cut a chunk from the loaf of bread on one of the
tables. Themorningwas cool; Gerin decided he'd rather
dip up a bowl of barley porridge from the pot that sat
above the fire on the hearth at the far end of the hall. He
took a horn spoon, then set that and the bowl on the
table while he got himself a jack of ale.
He'd just poured a little libation to Baivers when
Selatre came downstairs. "Here, join us," he said.
"Marlanz and Fabors have headed south to take Aragis
word of the agreement"
"I thought it must be so when you made yourself wake
so early," she answered, cutting herself a piece of bread
as Van had done.
"I'm sorry," he said "I didn't mean to wake you." He

Prince of the North
307
felt guilty; he hadn't slept the night through with a woman
in his own bed for a long time, and probably hadn't been
as quiet as he might have been. For that matter, he hadn't
slept with anyone in his own bed since Duren disap-
peared, and that was... more than sixty days ago now,
he realized with a small shock, reckoning up eveiything
that had happened since.
"It's all right," she said. 'The sun was up, so I would
have been awake soon anyhow. That's how it always was
in my village, and that's how it was at Ikos, too." She
somehow managed not to make Gerin feel bad for pre-
ferring to sleep later when he could After she'd poured
ale for herself, she sat down right beside him.
Fand came into the great hall a little later. When she
saw Gerin and Selatre together, she didn't bother with
breakfast. She just walked over to Van and plopped her-
self down in his lap.
He'd been reaching for his ale. Instead, his arms
went around her. "What do you think you're doing?"
he spluttered.
Her arms went around his neck. "What do you think
I'm doing, now?" she purred into his ear.
Van could resist anything except temptation. He did
try: "So early in the morning?" he said incredulously. Fand
leaned closer still, whispered something Gerin couldn't
quite catch into the outlander's ear. Whatever it was, it
seemed to have the desired effect. Van snorted like a
stallion and then, still holding Fand, stood up and car-
ried her upstairs.
Gerin and Selatre stared after them. A moment later,
a door—presumably the one to Fands chamber—
slammed shut. When Gerin and Selatre looked from
the stairway to each other, they both started to laugh.
"Oh, my," Gerin said. "She has a hook in him like a man
fishing for salmon."

308
Harry Turtledove
"Did she always act like that?" Selatre asked in a small
voice. She sounded half bemused, half awed
The Fox shook his head. 'When she was with us both,
she didn't—usually—try to use one of us to make the
other jealous." He chuckled "Drop me into one of the
hells if shes not trying to make me jealous now that were
apart" He took Selatre s hand "She'll have no luck there."
"I'm glad." Selatre squeezed him. Not long ago, he
thought, she'd have been mortally offended if I touched
her at all. Then he realized with the front of his mind
that that change had of course started some days after
Duren disappeared Somehow he felt he'd known Selatre
longer.
Rihwin the Fox came into the great hall for breakfast
He nodded to Gerin and Selatre as he ambled over to
the pot of porridge. Though he'd formally courted Elise,
he'd never made any permanent attachments since
returning to the northlands with Gerin and Van, con-
tenting himself with tumbling the occasional servant
woman or peasant girl.
Catching Gerin's eye, Rihwin tugged at his left ear
and brayed like a donkey. He'd done that a couple of
times before, and succeeded in embarrassing Gerin. This
time Gerin was ready for him. He said, "You do that
very well. You must have had a good deal of ass in you
even before I worked that magic to restore your ear."
Rihwin staggered, as if pierced by an arrow. That made
some of the hot porridge slop out of his bowl and onto
the hand that was holding it Now wounded literally as
well as metaphorically, he sprang into the air with a yelp.
"See what you made me do?" he shouted at Gerin.
"I'm sorry, but I can't take the blame for that one,"
Gerin said. "You were a showoff long before you met
me, and you've got yourself in trouble for it a good many
times before, too."

Prince of the North	309
As was his way, Rihwin calmed as quickly as he'd
heated "I'd be more inclined to resent that if it weren't
true." He got himself a jack of ale, then bowed to Gerin
and said, "May I sit by you and your lady, your supreme
awesomeness?"
"Sit, sit," Gerin said, valiandy resisting the urge to
throw something at him. In a way, Rihwin was like Fand
he could be infuriating, but he was never dull. Fortu-
nately, though, he lacked Fand's flammable temper.
He threw himself bonelessly down onto the bench
next to Gerin. For all his seeming insouciance, he had a
keen sense of what made others comfortable; Selatre
still didn't care to be touched, even by accident, by any-
one save Gerin.
He took a swig from his jack of ale, then leaned for-
ward so he could look past Germ to Selatre. "As you are
Sibyl no more, lady, let me prophesy for you now: many
years of happiness. I suppose that also means happiness
for this lout here" —he nodded at Gerin— "but we'll
just have to put up with what we can't help."
"One fine day, I will throtde you," Gerin muttered
Rihwin dipped his head, as at some extravagant compli-
ment Gerin threw his hands in the air.
Selatre said, "I thank you for the wish, and may a god
prove to have spoken through you."
"I don't think foolishness has a god, unless it be Mavrix
in his aspect as king of the drunkards," Gerin said. He'd
meant that for a joke, but it brought him up short once
he'd said it. All he wanted was to ignore Mavrix and hope
the god would do the same with him, but suddenly that
didn't seem easy.
He got up and poured himself another jack of ale.
He wasn't thirsty any more, nor did he want to get
drunk to start the day. Maybe, though, by showing his
loyalty to Baivers he could persuade Mavrix to leave

310
Harry Turtledove
him alone. But even as he quaffed the apotropaic ale,
he had his doubts.
Neither the Trokmoi nor the monsters were so con-
siderate as to wait for Aragis' men to arrive and help
drive them away. Gerin s raid into Adiatunnus' holding
did make the woodsrunner thoughtful, but didn't stop
him. And as for the creatures, who could say whether
the ones that attacked Gerin's villagers were aligned with
Adiatunnus or not? Either way, the work they did was
dreadful.
Herders began to disappear, along with their flocks.
The monsters slew more livestock than they could eat
Wolves or longtooths seldom behaved so, but men often
did. As the reports came in to Castle Fox, Gerin grew
ever grimmer.
He did what he could to help his serfs cope with die
new menace skulking through the woods. He ordered
herdsmen to go forth in pairs, and always to be armed
either with bows or with hunting spears. He gave per-
mission for all his smiths to make spearheads and
arrowheads in large numbers. With more and more serfs
at least somewhat armed, they'd have a better chance of
holding off the monsters when no chariot-riding nobles
could come to their aid.
Some of his more conservative vassals grumbled at
that Drago the Bear said, 'Who's going to take all those
spears away when the monsters are gone, lord Gerin?
They'll use 'em on each other, aye, and on us nobles,
too, if we don't watch 'em careful—and we can't watch
'em careful all the time."
Having been through a similar argument not long
before with Van, the Fox only nodded tiredly. "You're
right," he said, which made Drago's eyes widen. Then
he went on: "But if we go under because we didn't arm

Prince of the North
311
the serfs, we won't have to worry about what we do later,
now will we?"
Drago chewed on that for a while—literally, for Gerin
watched his jaws work beneath his unkempt mat of gray-
ing brown beard—then walked off without making any
direct reply. Under his breath, though, he was mutter-
ing phrases like "newfangled foolishness" and "idiotic
shenanigans." The Fox refused to let that worry him.
Stones changed more readily than Drago, but the Bear
did as he was ordered
Getting spears and arrows into the hands of the serfs
wasn't enough, and Gerin knew it They might kill an
occasional monster, and would be cheered no end by so
doing, but they weren't fighting men. If Gerin wanted
any crops brought in come fall, he and the rest of the
nobles would have to ride forth and do what they could
to hold the monsters away from the villages.
Leaving Selatre was a wrench. That in itself surprised
him; getting away from Fand had often seemed a relief.
He took his sorrow on departing as a good sign: with
luck, it meant he and Selatre had more to join them
together than the pleasures of the bedchamber. Fine as
those were, in the end they weren't enough. You needed
other bricks as well if you wanted to build something
that would last
When he'd brought Elise up to Fox Keep, he'd
thought they'd made something that would last forever.
One thing he hadn't yet known was that you needed to
keep what you'd built in good repair. If you didn't, it
would fall down on your head He'd have to bear that in
mind this time.
Such thoughts vanished from his headas the road jogged
and Castle Fox vanished behind a stand of trees. 'The
monsters have been especially bad in the southwest," he
said, grabbing for the rail as the chariot hit a pothole.

312
Harry Turtledove
'That's no surprise," Raffo said over his shoulder. 'They
swarm into Adiatunnus' lands and then out against us."
"No doubt youre right," the Fox answered "Where-
fores don't much matter, though. Whatever the whys of
it, we have to hurt the creatures badly enough to be sure
the serfs can bringin the harvest Fall's not that far away."
He waved to the fields past which they were riding. The
grain there was starting to go from green to gold
Van dug a finger in his ear. "Am I hearing you right,
Fox? You of all people saying wherefores don't matter?
Either you've come down with a fever or— Wait, I have
it It must be love."
Gerin set a hand on the shaft of the war axe on his
side of the chariot car. "I'd brain you, did I think you had
any brains in there to let out"
"Aye, well, to the crows with you, too," Van said Both
men laughed
As the chariots clattered by, peasants in the villages
and out in the fields waved and cheered They'd never
been especially hostile to the nobles who ruled them;
Gerin was a mild and just overlord. But they'd rarely
seemed so glad to see armored men in chariots, either.
Worthwhile reminding them we do more than take their
crops and fatter their women, Gerin thought
Toward afternoon, one of the serfs did more than wave
and cheer. He ran up to Gerin's chariot, the lead in a six-
car force, shouting, "Help us, lord! Three of the crea-
tures slaughtered our sheep, then ran back into the
woods." He pointed to show the direction they'd taken,
adding, "Remon hit one with an arrow, I think, but it
kept running."
"Maybe we'll have a blood trail to follow, Fox," Van
said. "Give us a better chance to hunt down the cursed
things."
The peasant's eyes went wide. "You're lord Gerin?"

Prince of the North
313
he said, and bowed when the Fox nodded That sort of
thing had happened to Gerin before. Not all serfs knew
what he looked like, for years could pass between his
visits to any one village.
"Aye, I'm Gerin," he answered, and alighted from the
chariot. Van stepped down after him. They waved the
rest of the cars to a stop. Gerin pointed in the same
direction the peasant had. 'Three monsters just went in
there. The villagers managed to wound one, so we may
have blood to follow."
"Fox, what do you say the drivers stay with the cars?"
Van put in. "If there re three of the things around, there
may be more, and that'll let folk properly armed fight
for the serfs if monsters pop out of the woods."
"Aye, let it be as you say," Gerin answered, which drew
howls of anger from Raffo and the other drivers. He
glared them into submission, wondering as he did so at
the urge that made men eager to risk their lives fighting
and irate when they lost that chance, even with an hon-
orable excuse.
Van pulled his mace from his belt and trotted into the
woods, saying, "Come on, you lugs. The more time we
waste here, the farther the cursed creatures can run."
Along with the rest of the fighting crews, Gerin
pounded after the oudander. Sweat quickly burst out on
his forehead. Running in armor was hard work—dou-
bly so for Van, whose fancy cuirass was a good deal
heavier than the one the Fox wore. But the outiander
moved as easily as if he'd been in a thin linen shirt
"Here, hold up," Gerin called at the edge of the woods.
He was panting a litde, but hadn't ordered the halt on
account of that "Let's see if we can find spilled blood.
That'll give us the way the monsters took."
Less than a minute later, Widin Simrin's son exclaimed,
"Over here, lord Gerin!" The Fox and the rest of the

314	Harry Turtledove
warriors hurried to him. Sure enough, blood splashed
the grass where he stood; more painted the dark green
leaves of a holly bush.
Gerin and his men plunged into the woods. Along
with the blood the monster was losing, they also had
footprints in the soft earth to follow. They crashed
through the brush shouting at the top of their lungs,
hoping to frighten the monster and its fellows into break-
ing whatever cover they d found.
'There!" Drago shouted He used his sword to point
Gerin caught a glimpse of a hairy body between a couple
of saplings. Parol Chickpea, fast with his bow, loosed an
arrow at the monster. It bellowed, whether in pain or
simplyin rage the Fox couldnot tell. Alongwithhds com-
panions, he dashed toward the place where it had disap-
peared. The men spread out widely, not wanting to give
it any chance to get away.
It sprang out from behind the pale trunk of a birch
tree, almost in Van's face. The outlander shouted in sur-
prise, but kept the presence of mind to get his shield up
and protect his bare face and arms from the monster's
claws and teeth. He smote the creature with his mace.
Blood spurted as the viciously spiked head struck home.
The monster snarled and wailed, but did not run. Gerin
sprinted to come to the aid of his friend
The monster wailed without snarling when his sword
slash drew a red line across its rib cage. Half turning to
meethim, it left itself open to Van, who hit it in the side ofits
head with all his massive strength. The creature crumpled
"A stupid one," Van said, panting. 'The ones with the
wit to wield weapons are truly dangerous."
"Even the ones without are bad enough." Gerin looked
down at the twitching corpse. "I don't see an arrow in
this one, either, so the one the peasant hit must still be
around here somewhere."

Prince of the North	315
"I hadn't thought on that, but you're right," the out-
lander said "Let's get on with the searching, then." He
slammed the head of his mace into the ground a couple
of times to clean the monster's blood from the bronze
spikes, then pushed on through the woods.
Not far ahead, two cries rang out, one from the throat
of a monster, the other a deeper coughing roar that froze
the Fox in his tracks for a moment, as it was meant to
do. "Longtooth." His lips shaped the word, but no sound
passed them.
The monsters scream rose to a high-pitched squall,
then died away. The longtooth roared again, this time in
triumph. Gerin rounded up his companions by eye. Ever
so cautiously, they approached the place from which the
roars had sounded Twelve men were enough to drive
off a longtooth at need, though doing so was always a
risky business.
Gerin pushed aside the small-leaved branch of a wil-
low sapling to peer out into a small clearing. At the far
edge of the open space, the longtooth crouched over
the monster's body
"That's the one the peasant shot," Van breathed into
Gerins ear. The Fox nodded part of an arrow shaft still
protruded from the creature's left buttock. He wondered
whether it had deliberately broken off the rest or the
shaft had snapped as it ran through the woods.
The question was irrelevant now; the longtooth had
seen to that The great twin fangs that gave it its name
were red with the monster's blood; it had torn open the
creatures throat Longtooths, fortunately, were solitary
hunters—had they traveled in packs, they would have
been an even worse plague than the monsters. This one,
a big male, was almost the size of a bear, with massive
shoulders and great taloned forepaws almost as formi-
dable as its fangs.

316	Harry Turtledove
It growled warningly at Gerin and the other warriors.
The long, orange-brown hair on its neck and shoulders—
not quite a lion's mane, but close—brisded up to make it
look even larger and more threatening. Its litde stumpy
tail, the only absurd part of a thoroughly formidable crea-
ture, twitched to show its anger at being interrupted over
a meal.
"Lets kill it," Parol Chickpea whispered hoarsely.
Up till then, Gerin had thought Parols sobriquet came
from the large round wen by his nose. The comment,
though, made him wonder if a chickpea was what Parol
used to do his thinking. He said, "No, its done us a favor.
We'll just go on our way and see if we can find the last
monster."
Parol grumbled at that, but went along when everyone
else moved away from the clearing. Gerin was sure the
longtooth would be contentedly feeding for some time.
All the same, he didn't go very far from his followers, nor
they from one another. The price of being wrong about
what the great hunting cat was doing was too high to pay.
Perhaps because the warriors stayed tighdy bunched
together, they didn't flush out the last monster. After
another hour's search, Gerin said, "I fear it's got away.
The gods willing, though, it won't be back in these parts
anytime soon—and if it is, it may run across that
longtooth."
'That would be good," Drago rumbled
"So it would," Gerin said "A longtooth is more than a
match for one of those things, or two, or even four. But
if a pack of them set out to drive a longtooth from its
prey, I think they could do it"
"Best thing to happen there is that they kill each other
off," Drago said Gerin nodded at that Somehow, though,
things seldom worked themselves out so conveniendy,
at least not where he was concerned

Prince of the North
317
The warriors made their way back toward the peasant
village. When they came out of the woods, not only the
serfs but also their drivers raised a cheer. The cheer got
louder after Gerin yelled, "Two of the creatures dead,"
and did not subside when he admitted the third had
escaped
He gave Remon a silver buckle for wounding one of
the monsters. The serf, a young, well-made man, puffed
out his chest, stood very straight, and did his best to act
like one of the warriors who'd accompanied the Fox.
Gerin thought that at best unconvincing, but it seemed
good enough to impress the young women of the vil-
lage. To Remon, their opinion doubtless mattered more
than his.
"Sun's going down," Van observed
Gerin glanced westward The outlander was right
Gerin suspected his friend had an ulterior motive for
the remark—several of the young women had also
noticed him—but decided not to make an issue of it
"All right, we'll pass the night here," he said
The villagers brought out their best ale for the nobles
in their midst, and roasted a couple of sheep the mon-
sters had killed. The rest, Gerin was sure, would be
smoked or sun-dried or made into sausages. Nothing
went to waste. He'd seen oaks in the woods nearby. No
doubt the hides, however torn, would be tanned and
used for winter coats or capes.
Remon disappeared from the celebration with one of
the pretty girls who'd exclaimed at his prowess with a
bow. There was prowess and then there was prowess,
Gerin thought.
Several of his comrades also found themselves com-
panions for the evening. As Van headed off toward one
of the huts with a young woman, he turned back to Gerin
and said, "You sleeping alone tonight, Fox?"

318	Harry Turtledove
"Yes, I think so," Gerin answered "Another cup of ale
and then I'll roll up in my blanket"
"All very well to be a one-woman man around the
keep, Captain," the outlander said, ^utyoure not around
the keep now"
"I don't tell you how to live your life, and I'll thank you
for granting me the same privilege," Gerin said pointedly.
"Oh, I do, Captain, I do, but if I think youre a silly
loon, you may be sure I'll tell you so." Van turned back
to the girl. "Come along, my sweet. I know what to do
with my time, by the gods." She went, not only willingly
but eagerly. The Fox shook his head. Van had a gift, that
was certain.
Van also reveled in variety. Gerin snorted. "If I need a
different woman so soon after I found one, then I didn't
find the right one," he muttered to himself.
'What's that, lord Gerin?" Drago stared owlishly. He'd
put his nose into the ale pot a great many times. He'd
sleep like a log tonight, and likely bawl like a hurt ox
tomorrow with a head pounding fit to burst.
Gerin was just as well pleased the Bear hadn't caught
what he'd said He did his best to keep his private life
private. In the tight little world of Fox Keep, that best
often wasn't good enough, but he kept making the effort.
And Selatre, unlike Fand, did not strike him as one to
relish trumpeting her affairs—in any sense of the word—
to the world at large.
He glanced up into the sly. Only Elleb shone there, a
day before full. Swift Tiwaz had just slipped past new,
while Nothos was approaching it. And golden Math,
almost at her third quarter, would rise a little before mid-
night
Math was the moon that mattered now. If she returned
to the waning gibbous shape she'd hadwhen Fabors and
Marlanz set out for Aragis' lands before the Archer's

Prince of the North
319
chariots came north—if she did that, then all of Germs
carefully laid plans would go awiy.
Tn that case, I'll have to try something else," he said,
again to Drago s puzzlement—and to his own, for he
had no idea what that something might be.
The sweep through the southern part of his holding
netted the Fox several slain monsters. More to the point,
it showed the serfs—and the monsters, if they paid
attention to such things—that he and his vassals would
defend the villages in every way they could.
Parol Chickpea was the only real casualty of the sweep:
one of the monsters bit a good-sized chunk out of his
right buttock. Gerin heated a bronze hoe blade over a
fire back at the peasant village from which they'd set out
and used it to cauterize the wound. Parol bawled louder
at that than he had when he was bitten, but the wound
healed well. Then he had to endure being called Parol
One-Cheek all the way back to Castle Fox.
Two days after he'd returned to the keep, Gerin was
up on the palisade when a chariot came streaking up
from the south. He started worrying the instant he spied
it: no one bringing good news would be in such a hurry.
In any case, it was too early to expect Aragis' men.
He hurried down from the palisade while the gate
crew was letting down the drawbridge. 'What's toward,
Utreiz?" he asked when the chariot came into the court-
yard
Utreiz Embron's son was one of the leaders of the
force holding the Elabon Way open through Bevon's
holding: a slim, dark fellow, a better than decent swords-
man, and a long way from foolish—a rather lesser ver-
sion of Gerin, as a matter of fact. He scowled as he got
down from the car, saying, "It's not good news, lord
prince."

320
Harry Turtledove
"I didn't think it would be," Gerin answered 'Tell it
to me anyhow"
"Aye, lord." Utreiz spat in the dirt. "Bevon and two of
his stinking sons—Bevonis and Bevion—came out in
force against us, with monsters coursing alongside their
chariots. For the time being, the roads cut."
"Oh, a plague!" Gerin cried. The outburst spent, his
wits began to work. "Bevander s with us, though. That'll
help. Have our men gone south to pull Ricolf the Red
into the fight? Having the Elabon Way blocked hurts
him no less than us."
"Lord, my guess is they have, but it would be only a
guess," Utreiz answered. "I came north, thinking this
something you had to know as soon as might be."
"You did right," Gerin said "So Bevion and Bevonis
are the two who went with Bevon to suck up to
Adiatunnus and the monsters, eh? And Bevander is on
our side, as I said What about Bevon's fourth son?"
"You mean Phredd the Fat?" Utreiz spat again. 'The
gods only know what he's doing—he hasn't the slightest
clue himself. He could be trying to train longtooths to
draw chariots, for all I know. He's not in the fight, that
much I can tell you."
'Too bad," Gerin said "I was hoping he'd come in on
Bevon's side. He'd hurt him worse by that than by join-
ing us, believe me."
'The gods know you're right about that, lord, but so
far he's sitting out," Utreiz said "Can you send us men
to help force the road open again?"
"A few, maybe," Gerin said unhappily. "I'm stretched
too thin as it is. I wish some of the lordlets on the land
that used to be Palin the Eagles would do their share.
No merchants will ever get to their keeps if the highway
stays closed."
"I've sent men to several of them," Utreiz answered

Prince of the North
321
"Stout man!" Gerin thumped him on the back 'There
aren't enough people who see what needs doing and
then go ahead and do it without making a fuss and with-
out asking anyone's leave."
Utreiz shuffled his feet like a schoolboy who'd forgot-
ten his lessons and looked anywhere but at the Fox. Praise
plainly made him uncomfortable—another way in which
he resembled his overlord. "I'd best head back now," he
said, and climbed into the chariot that had brought him
north. "You send those men as soon as may be, lord We
could use 'em." He spoke to the driver, who got the horses
going and ratded away. He hadn't even stopped for a
jack of ale.
"Send those men as soon as may be," Gerin echoed,
wondering where he was supposed to find men to send
If he could have conjured warriors out of the air, he would
have used them against Adiatunnus. But he realized he
would have to reduce the sweeps against the monsters
for the time being, no matter how litde he relished the
prospect. He would lose a disastrous amount of prestige
if Aragis had to force the road open.
Glumly, he tramped into the great hall. Selatre was in
there, eating some sun-dried plums. She smiled a greet-
ing and waved him over to her side. "Here, open," she
said, and popped a prune into his mouth.
It was sweet, but not sweet enough by itself to sweeten
his mood. He said "Thank you" even so; Selatre appre-
ciated formal politeness. He studied her—she looked a
trifle on the haggard side, but wryly amused at the same
time. The combination tweaked his curiosity. "You've got
something to tell me," he said. "I can see it in your eyes."
He wondered if he was about to become a father again.
"Yes, I do," she said, and her tone made him all but
sure of it Then she went on, "Just another proof I'm
Sibyl no more: my courses started this morning. I needed

322
Harry Turtledove
a moment, I confess, to figure out what was happening
to me." Her mouth twisted. "One part of full woman-
hood Fd willingly have missed"
"Mm, yes, I can understand that," he said judiciously.
He knew a certain measure of relief that he didn't have
to worry about fatherhood at such an inconvenient time,
and a different measure of relief that Selatre still seemed
in a reasonably good humor. At such times, Fand could
often make a longtooth flinch. But then, Fand's temper
was certain to be uncertain.
"I didn't know this would happen when I came into
your bed, but it makes sense that it has," Selatre said
"Biton's law was that no woman who had known man
could be his Sibyl. Now that we're lovers" —he admired
the matter-of-fact way she brought that out— "no won-
der I've lost what marked me as a possible Sibyl in the
first place."
Gerin nodded 'That does make sense. And it's rea-
soned as nicely as any schoolmaster down in the City of
Elabon might have done—not that they're in the habit
of reasoning about such things."
Selatre stuck out her tongue at him. "What about the
fellow who had that endlessly entertaining book?"
"He wasn't a schoolmaster," Gerin said with a snort
"Just an endlessly lecherous student Now that I think
back on it, a lot of us were like that" He waited for Selatre
to make some sort of sharp reply to that, but she didn't
For once, her ignorance of men in general worked to his
advantage.
The lookout in the watchtower let go with a long, dis-
cordant blast from his horn. "Chariots approaching out
of the west, a pair of'em," he bawled
"Out of the west?' Gerin said "I wonder who that is."
He got to his feet "Better go find out" He headed out
toward the courtyard. Selatre followed

Prince of the North
323
'It's Schild Stoutstaff, lord," Parol Chickpea called from
atop the palisade. "Shall we let him in?"
"Schild, is it?" the Fox said. Had he had ears like a
real foxs, they would have pricked forward with inter-
est "Aye, by all means let him come in. I'll be fascinated
to see what he wants of me."
"Whys that, lord prince?" Parol asked with a hoarse
guffaw. "On account of he only remembers he's your
vassal when he wants something off you?"
'That does have something to do with it, yes," Gerin
answered dryly. The drawbridge lowered once more—
a busy day, the Fox thought. A couple of minutes later,
Schild and his companions rolled into the courtyard.
"Lord prince," Schild called, nodding to Gerin. He
was a big, burly fellow, on the swarthy side, a few years
older than the Fox, and had the air of one who trusted
his own judgment and strength above any others. That
alone made him less than the best of vassals, but Gerin
understood it, for it was part of his own character as
well.
"What brings you here?" he asked.
Schild jumped down from his chariot, surprisingly
graceful for such a bulky man. He strode over to Gerin
and fell to his knees in front of him, holding out his hands
before him with their palms pressed together. 'Tour ser-
vant, lord prince!" he said, his eyes on the ground
Gerin took Schild's hands in his, acknowledging the
other man's vassalage and his own obligations as over-
lord "Rise, lord Schild," he said formally. As soon as Schild
was back on his feet, the Fox went on in more conversa-
tional tones: "You must need something from me, or
you'd not choose to remember I'm your master."
"You're right, lord Gerin, I do." Schild didn't even
bother correcting the Fox. 'Those horrible things they
say came up from under the ground are a hideous plague

324
Harry Turtledove
in my holding. My own vassals and I cant keep the serfs
safe, try as we will. I have pride—you know that Ive
buried it to beg aid of you,"
"So now you'd be glad to see chariots cross from my
holding to yours, eh?" Gerin waited for Schild to nod,
then drove home the dart "You wouldn't even let my
men onto your land to seek my stolen son earlier this
year—but you didn't need me then, of course."
'That's true. I made a mistake, and I may end up pay-
ing for it, too," Schild answered steadily He won Gerin's
reluctant admiration for that; whether you liked him or
not, you had to admit he held very little nonsense. Now
he let loose a rueful laugh. "I have more to tell you about
that than I did then, too."
"Do you?" Gerin's voice went silky with danger. As if
of itself, his hand slipped to the hilt of his sword. Schild
was no mean fighting man, but he gave back a step from
the expression on the Fox's face. "You had best tell it,
and quickly"
"Aye, lord prince. You have to understand, I didn't
know it at the time when your man came asking." Schild
licked his lips. 'That minstrel—Tassilo was his name,
not so?—he came through my holding. You know that
much already, I daresay. He didn't stop at my keep,
though; he guested with a couple of my vassals before
he passed out the other side of my lands. Lord Gerin, I
learned not long ago he had a boy with him. Ifl'dknown
that then—"
"What would you have done, lord Schild?" Gerin
asked, his quiet fiercer than a scream. "What would you
have done? Sent Duren back to me? Or would you have
kept him for a while, to see what advantage you might
wring from him?"
"Damn me to the five hells if I know, Fox," Schild
answered, formal politeness forgotten. "But I didn't have

Prince of the North
325
the chance to find out, which is likely just as well. Now I
know, and now I'm here, and now Ive told you."
"If I ever find out you lied to me about this—•" Gerin
let that drop. He had a score to setde with Schild even if
Schild hadn't lied—but not now. Other things had to
come first
"Not here," Schild said. "I know what my life would
be worth if I tried" He spoke with as much assurance as
if he'd looked at rapidly approaching clouds and
announced, "It looks like rain." Gerin had always done
his best to give his neighbors the idea he'd be a danger-
ous man to cross. Seeing he'd succeeded should have
been more gratifying than it was.
He said, "Duren came into your holding, then, and
was alive and well when he went out again?"
"So far as I know, Fox, that's the way of it," Schild
answered
Selatre came up to Gerin, set a hand on his arm. 'The
prophecy Biton spoke through me said your son's fate
would be mild I'm glad we begin to see the truth of that
now."
Schild's eyes widened when he realized who Selatre
had to be, and then again when he realized what her
touching Gerin was likely to mean. The Fox noted that
without doing anything about it; his thought swooped
down on Selatre's words like a stooping hawk. "Biton
said Duren's fate might well be mild," he answered with
a sort of pained precision he wished he could abandon,
"not that it would be. We still have to see."
She looked at him. As if Schild—as if everyone but
the two of them—had receded to some remote distance,
she asked quiedy, "You're afraid to hope sometimes,
aren't you?"
"Yes," he answered, as if speaking to her ears alone.
"Expect much and you're too often disappointed.

326
Harry Turtledove
Expect little and what you get often looks good."
Selatre made an exasperated noise. Before she could
carry the argument further, though, Schild broke in:
"Well, Fox, what can I expect from you?"
That hauled Gerin back to the world of chariots and
monsters and red-mustached barbarians: not the world
in which he would have chosen to spend his time, but
the one in which the gods had seen fit to place him. He
started calculating, and did not care for the answers he
came up with. He'd been stretched too thin before he'd
had to commit men to reopening the Elabon Way; he
was thinner now. Fixing Schild with a glare, he growled,
"Why couldn't you have forgotten you were my vassal a
while longer?'
"Because I need your aid, lord prince," Schild
answered, more humbly than the Fox had ever heard
him speak.
He suspected a great deal of that humility was donned
for the occasion, but that didn't mean he could ignore it
"Verywell, lord Schild, I shall defend you with such forces
as I can spare," he said. "I shall not do so, though, until
you furnish me this year's feudal dues, in metal and grain
and ale, for your holding. You haven't paid those dues
lately; I hope you remember what they are."
By the sour look Schild gave him, he remembered
only too well. "I knew you were a cheeseparer, Fox," he
ground out, "so I started the wagons rolling as soon as I
left my keep. They should be here in a day or two with
the year's dues. To try to make up for its being my first
tribute in a while, I even put in a couple of flagons of
wine I found in my cellars."
"Don't tell Rihwin that," Gerin exclaimed.
'The way you're using me now, I hope they've gone
to vinegar," Schild said, scowling still.
"If you want aid from your overlord, you'd best give

Prince of the North
327
him service with more than your lips," Gerin answered,
unperturbed at Schilds anger. He went on, "Speaking
of which, though you swore me fealty after I slew Wolfar
of the Axe, youVe given me precious little."
Tve demanded precious Me till now, either," Schild
retorted
"That may be so, but the aid I send you is liable to
cost me more than this years dues alone," Gerin said.
"My other vassals—my true vassals—pay what they owe
whether they call on me for aid or not, for they don t
know when they'll need me. Collecting all I'm due now
would break you, so I shan't try, but what I take from
you each year will go up hereafter—and if you don't
render it, you'll see my chariots in ways you won't like so
well as riding to your rescue."
Schilds expression was bright with hatred. "I wish
Wolfar had wrung your neck instead of the other way
round"
Germ's blade hissed free. "You're welcome to try to
amend the result, if you like."
For a moment, he thought Schild would draw, too.
This once, the clean simplicity of combat looked good
to him. If he slew Schild, the other's land would pass to
him ... and ifhe didn't, he wouldn't have to worry about
alliances and feudal dues any more.
But Schild took a step back. Gerin did not think it was
from fear. Few barons shrank from a fight on account of
that—and the ones who did commonly had enough sense
that they didn't go provoking their neighbors. The Fox's
reluctant vassal said, "Even if I slay you and get out of
this keep alive, I can't fill your shoes fighting the crea-
tures, worse luck."
Gerin clapped a hand to his forehead in genuine
amazement He sheathed his sword. "An argument from
policy, by the gods! For that I'll gouge you less than I

328
Harry Turtledove
would have otherwise—having a neighbor who can think
will pay off for itself, one way or another/'
"I have to think you're right about that," Schild
answered "I've got one, and it's costing me plenty."
That crack was almost enough of itself to make Gerin
like him. The Fox said, "Come into the great hall, drink
some ale with me, and we'll try to figure out what we
can do for you." He'd turned and taken a couple of steps
before he remembered Schild had been less than forth-
coming about his son. He kept walking, but resolved not
to like or trust his neighbor no matter what sort of cracks
Schild made.
Schild poured ale down his throat He watched Gerin
warily, too; coming to the Fox for aid could not have
been easy for him. "How many cars will you send?" he
demanded "And how soon will you send them? We're
hurting badly, and that's the truth. If I'd thought we'd
have anything to eat this winter—" He let that hang.
No, asking for help hadn't been easy.
Gerin didn't answer right away. He'd been weighing
the question even before Schild asked it "I want to say
eight, but I suppose I can spare ten," he said at last
"What, why you tightfisted—" Schild cursed with an
inventiveness and a volume that had men running in
from the courtyard and coming down from upstairs to
see what on earth had gone wrong now.
Van said, "You don't have a moat, Captain, but shall I
chuck him in the ditch for you?"
"No," Gerin answered "He's pitching a fit because he
doesn't know all the facts yet For instance," he continued
with a certain amount of spite, "I haven't told him the
chariots and crew I do send will have to be back here in
fifteen days' time. They can sweep his holding, but they
can't stay there and fight all the way up till harvest time."

Prince of the North
329
'That does it!" Schild sprang to his feet Tm for my
own lands again, but the gods. And to the five hells with
you, Fox, and a murrain on your ten stinking cars and
your fifteen stinking days. We'll manage somehow, and
after we do—"
"Sit down and shut up." Every once in a while, Gerin
could strike a tone that produced obedience without
thought He wished he could manage it at will—it was
useful. This time it worked; Schild s knees folded and he
sat back onto the bench. Gerin went on, "I cant send
more than ten cars because I'm sending others south to
open the Elabon Way: Bevon and two of his worthless
sons have struck at it and driven my garrisons back. And
I'll want the chariots home soon because Aragis the
Archer and I have made alliance; he's bringing his forces
north so we can strike at Adiatunnus and the monsters
together. I want my force of chariotry at full strength for
that Now do you understand, lord Schild?"
"I understand you're the biggest bastard ever spawned
in the northlands, lord Gerin," Schild answered, but the
fire had gone out of his voice. He got up again, carried
his jack to the pitcher of ale, poured it full, and drained
it dry. Only after he'd wiped his mouth and mustache on
the sleeve of his tunic did he give his attention back to
the Fox. "You set me up for that tantrum, you son of a
whore. You just wanted to see how loud you could make
me yell."
"If it weren't so, I'd deny it," Gerin said "In case you're
interested, you yell louder than I thought you could"
Truth that," Van put in. "I thought one of those mon-
sters was loose in the keep when I heard you roar."
Schild looked from one of them to the other. To the
five hells with both of you. Now, when will you send out
your chariotry?"
"As soon as I can," Gerin answered. "I'll send

330	Harry Turtledove
messengers today to my vassals who have keeps on the
western side of my holding. As you'll have noticed, I
haven't enough men here myself to make up ten cars, or
anything close to that number. I would have, if I didn't
need to order crews south against Bevon." He spread
his hands. Tm afraid that's what you get, lord Schild, for
taking so long to make up your mind you're really in
trouble. Mymenoughtto be crossingyour frontier about
the time your tribute comes in to Fox Keep."
"Aye, rdworked that out for myself, thanks," Schild said
"You're not an easy overlord to serve under, lord prince. I
console myself by thinking you're fair in what you do."
"I'll take that," Gerin said
The Fox lay beside Selatre, watching the lamp gutter
toward extinction. Its red, dying flame cast flickering
shadows on the wall of the bedchamber. He let one hand
run idly down the smooth length of her torso. He'd felt
sated after he made love with Fand He felt happy now.
It had been so long since he'd felt really happy after he'd
made love that the difference struck him like a blow.
He wondered how he'd failed to notice when that
happy feeling started to slip away while Elise shared his
bed. Partly, he suspected, his own stupidity was to blame.
And partly, he'dsupposeditwas simply part of their grow-
ing used to each other. That was probably stupid too,
now that he thought about it
When she'd bedded the horseleech after she ran off,
had she felt happy afterwards? Gerin rather hoped so.
Selatre snuggled against him, which drove thoughts
of Elise, if not altogether out of his head, then at least
back into the dark corners where they belonged these
days. She laughed a little as she said, 'The time when I
thought no man could touch me seems faraway now. I
was foolish."

Prince of the North
331
"No, you weren't" Gerin shook his head "You were
doing what was right for you then. On the other hand,
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad you'd changed your
mind" He bent his head so he could kiss the sweet hol-
low place where her neck met her shoulder.
"Your beard tickles," she said, and then, as if she
weren't changing the subject at all, 'What I'm glad of is
that my courses are finally spent. I could have done with-
out that part of becoming a woman—I think I've said as
much before."
"Eight or ten times," Gerin agreed
She poked him in the ribs. He jerked. For someone
who hadn't been allowed to touch a man for a long time,
she learned fast. Maybe she'd grown up with little broth-
ers back in her peasant village. Gerin had been a little
brother. He knew what pests they could make of them-
selves.
Selatre said, "One of the reasons I didn't care for my
courses is that they kept me from having you. I've grown
greedy so fast, you see."
'They don't have to keep men and women apart,"
Gerin observed
"No?" Selatre sounded surprised. Her mouth twisted
"It would be messy."
"It can be," Gerin agreed "You're apt to be diy then,
too. But" —he smiled a lopsided smile— "there are com-
pensations. I didn't want to seem as if I were forcing
myself on you this first time. You're finding out about so
many new things so fast, I thought I shouldn't burden
you with one more. The gods willing, we have plenty of
time."
"I think I am very lucky here." Selatre snuggled closer
still. "I may have said that before, too—eight or ten
times." She gave him a look that said, What are you going
to make of that?

332
Harry Turtledove
He knew what he wanted to make of it, and was hop-
ing he could rise to the occasion once more, when some-
one came running up the hall toward the bedchamber.
He scowled; it was too late at night for anyone to bother
him without excellent reason. Then the fellow outside
shouted, "Lord Gerin, there are monsters loose in
Besant's village!"
"Oh, a pox!" Gerin cried, and sprang out of bed. Tm
coming!" He scrambled into tunic and trousers, buck-
led on his sandals and grabbed his sword belt, and
unbarred the door. Selatre barely had time to throw a
blanket over her nakedness.
Gerin hurried downstairs, where his armor, with that
of his vassals, hung from pegs on the side walls of the
great hall. He got into his corselet, jammed his bronze
pot of a helm onto his head, and put his shield on his
right arm. Tonight he'd make do without his greaves.
He snatched up his bow and a full quiver of arrows.
Van had already armed himself. "Come on, Captain,"
he said impatiently. "I've missed good fighting to wait for
you."
"You must have been down here, to have got into your
gear so fast," Gerin said
"Aye, so I was, drinking ale, rolling the dice with a
few of the lads—you know how it goes. When the
drawbridge thumped down, I figured somebody'd
gone and pissed in the porridge pot, and sure enough,
in came this screaming serf, babbling of monsters. I
sent one of the cooks upstairs for you, while those of
us who were down here got weapons and went out to
fight." With that, he trotted for the door himself, the
Fox at his heels.
At the gate, one of the men there handed Gerin a
blazing torch. "Against the ghosts, lord prince," he
bawled. Gerin was grateful for his quick thinking, but

Prince of the North
333
felt overburdened as he pounded toward Besant Big-
Bellys village.
Even with the torch, the night spirits assailed him as
soon as he got outside the keep. Dark of night was their
time, their element; they sent a chilling blast of hate and
resentment down on a mortal who presumed to enter it
without better apotropaic than fire alone.
He set his teeth and ran on. Beside him, Van mut-
tered oaths, or perhaps prayers, in a language he did not
recognize. When those had no effect, the oudander
shouted, "Be still, you cursed soulsuckers!" If any living
man could awe the ghosts, Van would have been the
one to do it But no living man could.
Fortunately, Besant's village lay only a couple of fur-
longs from Fox Keep. Before the spirits could find all
the chinks in the armor of Germs soul and slip cold men-
tal fingers in to drive him mad, he was among the watde-
and-daub huts of the serfs. They'd given the ghosts the
usual gift of sunset blood, and so were not haunted
through the night But things fiercer than phantoms
assailed them now.
A man lay sprawled in the street His blood darkened
the dirt on which he'd fallen. His linen tunic was rucked
up; monsters had been feeding on his legs and hind-
quarters before the warriors came to drive them off.
Gerin threw down his bow. In the dim light, shooting
was useless. Math's crescent almost brushed the hori-
zon, and even pale Nothos' fatter crescent, higher in the
western sky, made distances seem to shift and waver, as
if in a dream. His sword snaked free. This would have to
be close-quarters work.
Screams from inside a hut with its door flung open
told of a monster inside. Peering over the edge of his
shield, Gerin ran in. The darkness was all but absolute,
but his ears told him of the struggle there. Roaring, the

334
Harry Turtledove
monster turned from the serf it had been attacking to
meet him.
He thrust at it with his sword. He couldn't have done
more than pink it, for its cries redoubled. Crash! Some-
thing wet splashed in the Foxs face. The monster was
staggering, though—the serf, with great presence of
mind, had hit it over the head with a water jar. The Fox
stepped close, stabbed again and again and again. The
monster stumbled, recovered, fell.
"Dyaus bless you, lord prince," the serf and his wife
cried in the same breath.
"And you, for the help you gave," he answered as he
turned and rushed back out into the street. No time now
for polite conversation.
Fighting the monsters was not like fighting human
foes. That had both advantages and disadvantages. As
Gerin had noted before, the creatures fought as indi-
viduals, not as part of a larger group. In the confused
brawling in the darkness, though, his own men were
hardly more organized. And the creatures neither cared
anylhing for loot nor felt any shame at running away if
they found themselves in danger they could escape by
no other means. Full of notions about glory and honor
and courage, Trokmoi would have held their ground and
let themselves be killed where they stood
Gerin caught the reek from a monster's body—a
thicker, meatier smell than came from a man, no matter
how long unwashed—and threw up his shield before
the creature, just another shadow in the night, closed
with him. He almost dropped the shieldin surpiise when
a sword slammed against it
The monster gave him the first unmistakable words
he'd heard from one of their throats: "Die, man!" They
were in the Trokme tongue, and snarled rather than spo-
ken, but he had no trouble understanding them.

Prince of the North
335
"Die yourself," he answered in the same language.
The monster had no shield, no armor, and no skill at
swordplay to speak of. But it was veiy quick and very
strong. When it beat aside his thrust, the blow almost
knocked the sword from his hand.
He wondered if it could see better in the night than
he could. After it and its ancestors had spent so many
generations in a troglodytic life, that seemed likely. And,
though it was very awkward with its sword, something
let it thwart his strokes again and again.
"Here, Captain, I'm coming!" Van shouted. His heavy
footfalls got closer fast
The monster, though, did not wait to be attacked by
two at once. It turned and scampered away toward the
woods, faster than an armored man could hope to fol-
low. The fighting died away not long after that, with the
rest of the creatures either down or fled. Some of Gerin's
troopers had been clawed or bitten, but none of them
was badly hurt
Besant Big-Belly sought out the Fox. The serfs in his
village hadn't been so lucky. As lamentations and moans
of pain rose into the night, the headman said, "We've
three dead, lord prince, and several more, men and
women both, who won't be able to work for some while.
Dyaus and the other gods only know how we're to bring
in enough crops to meet your dues come fall." He wrung
his hands in anxiety.
It was, Gerin thought with a flash of contempt, utterly
characteristic of him to worry about the dues first and
people only afterwards. "Don't worry about it," he said,
"If I see the people here are making an honest effort, I
won't hold them to blame for falling a bit short of what
they might have done otherwise."
"You're kind, lord prince," Besant cried, seizing Gerins
hand and pressing it to his lips. The Fox snatched it back.

336
Harry Turtledove
He suspected the headman would use his generosity as
an excuse to try to slack off before the harvest or cheat
him afterwards, but he figured he had a decent chance
of getting the better of Besant at that game.
"Lord prince?" A hesitant touch on his arm: it was the
serf in whose house he'd fought T want to thank you,
lord prince. Weren't for you, reckon that hideous thing
would've et Arabel or me or maybe the both of us."
TPruanz is right," the woman beside the peasant said
'Thank you."
"Can't have my villagers eaten," Gerin said gravely.
'They never work as well afterwards."
Rihwin would have smiled at the joke, or at least rec-
ognized that it was one. It flew past Pruanz and Arabel,
a clean miss. "Words, they're cheap," Pruanz said "Want
to give you something better, show we really mean what
we say."
"Pruanz is right," Arabel said. "You come back with
me to the house, I'll make you feel as good as I know
how." Even in darkness, he saw her twitch her hips at
him.
"Lord prince, she's lively," Pruanz said "You'll like what
she does."
Gerin looked from one of them to the other. They
meant it. He sighed. He'd taken his pleasure with peas-
ant women a good many times, but he didn't feel like it
now, not with Selatre waiting for him back at the keep.
As gently as he could, he said, "I don't want to take your
wife from you, Pruanz. I was just doing as a liege lord
should, and I have a lady of my own."
Pruanz didn't answer, but Arabel did, indignandy:
"Well! I like that! What does she have that I don't?" She
rubbed herself against the Fox. By the feel of her, she
did indeed possess all female prerequisites.
He was embarrassed enough to wish he'd left her and

her husband in the hut to be devoured. He managed to
free his arm from Arabel and said to Pruanz, "The best
way for the two of you to show you're glad you're alive is
to bed each other."
Arabel let out a loud, scornful sniff. "Well! Maybe I
should leave you to your fancy lady, lord prince, though
I don't suppose she gets much use out of you, neither."
"Arabel!" Pruanz hissed. 'That's no way to talk to him
what saved us."
"And who saved him, smashing a jug over that hor-
rible thing's head?" she retorted. "I expect that means
you saved me, too." She all but dragged her husband
back toward their hut Gerin suspected his suggestion
was about to be fulfilled, even if he'd given it to the wrong
one of the pair.
He gathered up his troopers. They didn't have torches
for the walk back to Fox Keep, but the ghosts were fairly
quiet. Why not? he thought as he neared the draw-
bridge—the night spirits were no doubt battening on
the new gift of blood they'd just received from the dead
peasants and monsters.
Some of the warriors went off to bed right away Oth-
ers paused in the great hall for a jack of ale—or several
jacks of ale—before they slept After Gerin had put his
armor and die bow he'd recovered back on their pegs,
Van planted an elbow in his ribs, hard enough to make
him stagger. "Fox, that's twice now lately you've turned
it down when you had the chance to take some," he said
"You must be getting old"
"Oh, you heard that, did you?" Gerin looked up his
nose at his taller friend, who stood there chuckling. "If
you want to get much older, you'd be wise to tend to
your own affairs and leave mine—or the lack of them—
to me."
"Affairs, forsooth." Van drained his drinking jack,

338
Harry Turtledove
poured it full, drained it again. Then he headed for the
stairs, a fixed expression on his face. For his sake, Gerin
hoped Fand was in, or could be cajoled into, the mood
If she wasn't, or couldn't, she'd throw things.
'That's the closest they've come to here," Drago the
Bear said, yawning. "I don't like it, not even a little bit"
By his matter-of-fact tone, he might have been talking
of a hot, sticky summer's day
T don't like it, either," Gerin answered Tm stretched
far too wide—seems that's all I say lately. Men and cars
off in Schild's holding, more of them down in the south
fighting Bevon and his bastard boys—■"
"They were born in wedlock, far as I know," said
Drago, who could sometimes get the letter and miss the
spirit.
'They're bastards all the same," Gerin said. "lining
up with the Trokmoi is bad enough, but anyone who
lines up with the monsters deserves whatever happens
to him. I intend to happen to Bevon and Bevonis and
Bevion, but while I'm dealing with them, I can't be deal-
ing with Adiatunnus and his monster fiiends. And if my
men can't push Bevon off the Elabon Way, and if Aragis'
troopers fail too, what then? I can't see anything—except
us losing the war, I mean."
"Never happen," Drago said, and fell asleep at the
table, his head in his hands.
Gerin wished he had his vassal's confidence—and
naivete. He knew only too well how easy losing the war
would be; his nimble imagination, usually an asset,
betrayed him with images of blood and defeat and treach-
ery. So many ways things could go wrong. What he had
trouble coming up with was ways they could go right
He emptied his own drinking jack and went upstairs
himself. He opened the door to his bedchamber as qui-
etly as he could, expecting Selatre to be asleep. But he

Prince of the North
339
found the lamp lit and her sitting up in bed waiting for
him. She wasn't spending the time idly, either; she'd gone
down the hall to the library and fetched back a codex to
read until he returned. She put it down and said, "Biton
and the other gods be praised that you're all right. Every
time you go out to fight now—"
"Not a scratch," he said, turning to bar the door. 4<We
hurt the monsters worse than they hurt the village, so
that's—well, not all right, but better than it might have
been." He didn't want to talk about the skirmish; all he
wanted to do was forget it "What do you have there?"
She flipped back to the first leaf of parchment. "On
the Motions of the Moons, by one Volatin of Elabon. It
was the first volume I saw in the library, the reason being
that you left it out on the table there instead of returning
it to its proper niche." She fixed him with the severe look
ofa librarian whose sense of order had been transgressed.
"I'm sorry," he said; rather to his surprise, he found
himself meaning it "So you're trying Volatin, are you?
What do you make of him?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," she admitted. "Endless num-
bers and curious signs you didn't teach me and other
obscurities and oddments. What do they all mean?"
'They mean that if I'd looked through his book five
years ago I'd have known the werenight was coming, for
he showed it beyond doubt in those columns of num-
bers. But I just thought of the book as a curiosity I'd
brought back from the City of Elabon, and so it sat idle
and useless on my shelf." He scowled in self-reproach.
"What could you have done about the werenight had
you known of it?" Selatre asked.
"Given that I was traveling when it happened, prob-
ably nothing," he said. "But it's made me pay close
attention to the phases of the moons ever since. Ten—
no, eleven—days from now, Math will be full, the day

340
Harry Turtledove
after that Elleb and Nothos, and the day after that Tiwaz.
Its not quite a dreadful werenight like the one we had
before—from what Volatin says, those come less than
once in a thousand years. But men with a were streak in
them will come closer to changing then than on any other
night for a long time to come. Its—"
"—One more thing to worry about," Selatre finished
for him.
He stared at her in surprise and delight. "Well, well,"
he said. "I didn't know you spoke my language."
Tm learning," she said

X
Three days after the monsters attacked Besant's vil-
lage, the lookout in the watchtower blew a long blast on
his horn and shouted, "A chariot approaches from the
south!" A few minutes later, he added with some excite-
ment, "Its Utreiz Embron's son, by the gods!"
Gerin was in the stables, fitting a new spoke to a chariot
wheel. He dropped the knife with which he was making
a final trim of the spoke. Raffo, who was helping him,
said, <cWell, we'll know one way or the other."
That we will," Gerin answered, and hurried out into
the courtyard.
Men were also bustling out from the keep itself:
everyone in Casde Fox—everyone in Gerin's domain—
had a vital stake in learning whether the Elabon Way
had been reopened. Van caught the Fox's eye and said,
'Wishing you luck, Captain."
Til take all I can get, thanks," Gerin said.
The drawbridge seemed to be crawling down. Gerin's
hands folded into fists; his nails bit into his palms. At
last, with a thump, the drawbridge met the ground on
the far side of the ditch around the palisade. Utreiz's
chariot thumped over it. Even before the warrior spoke,
a great weight lifted from Gerin's heart, for he, his diver,
and die other warrior in the car were all wreathed in
smiles.
"Dyaus and all the gods be praised, we smashed em!"
Utreiz cried He tried to go on, but a great cheer from
everyone in the courtyard drowned the rest of his words.
Rihwin the Fox leaped up into the car and planted a kiss
341

342
Harry Turtledove
on the startled Utreiz's cheek. He had no designs on the
other man's body; that was just a southern way of show-
ing joy at good news. In the rougher northlands, though,
it was best used with caution. "Get off me!" Utreiz said,
and several other rougher things the hubbub mercifully
muffled.
When the din died away a little, Gerin said, 'Tell us
all that befell. Maybe" —he glanced around pointedly—
"we'll be able to hear you now."
"Aye, lord prince." Utreiz turned as if to push Rihwin
out of the chariot, but Rihwin had already jumped down.
Looking foolish, Utreiz resumed: "In one way, it was just
as you said: Ricolf the Red and his men came up from
the south to join us and Bevander against Bevon and his
other two sons. Since they held the road, we had to sneak
through the woods to the west to set up a common
attack on the same day. We set out right at dawn, caught
'em by surprise worse than they did when they hit us
and grabbed that stretch of road. Bevonis is dead. We
caught Bevion; he offered me everything in the world
not to let Bevander have him. Bevon, curse him, got
away and holed up in his keep."
He had to shout the last part; cheering had erupted
again. Through it, Gerin said, <tfWell done! The road is
open, we have our men back from Schild's holding—"
"What's this, lord?" Utreiz asked, and Gerin realized
he hadn't heard about Schild's cry for help.
He explained quickly, finishing, "You'd have been just
as glad if the men I'd sent to Schild had stayed out a few
days more, seeing as Rihwin was one of them. But all we
have to do now is await Aragis' troopers." And hope they
come, he added to himself.
'This splendid news calls for an equally splendid cel-
ebration!" Rihwin shouted, which raised more cheers
from the warriors gathered in the courtyard around

Prince of the North
343
Utreiz. Even Gerin clapped his hands, not wanting to be
thought a wet blanket. If his men felt like roistering where
no fight impended, that was all right with him. But then
Rihwin went on, "What say we break out the wine with
which Schild was generous enough to buy our aid?'
Some of the troopers clapped again. Others—nota-
bly Van and Drago—looked to Gerin instead. "No," he
said in a voice abrupt as an avalanche.
"But, my fellow Fox—■" Rihwin protested
Gerin cut him off with a sharp, chopping gesture. "No
I said and no I meant. Haven't you had enough misfor-
tunes with wine and with Mavrix, my fellow Fox?" He
freighted Rihwin's ekename with enough irony to sink
it
Rihwin flushed, but persisted, "I hadn't intended to
summon the lord of the sweet grape, lord prince, nor
had I intended to do aught more with his vintage than
sip it, and not to excess."
"No," Gerin said for the third time. "What you intend
and what turns out have a way of being two different
things. And I trust that gift of wine from Schild about as
far as I'd trust so many jars full of vipers."
"What, you think the whoreson's out to poison us?"
Van rumbled "If that's so—" He didn't go on, not with
words, but pulled his mace free and whacked the shaft
against the palm of his left hand.
But Gerin shook his head and said, "No," yet again.
Van looked puzzled. Rihwin looked as dubious as he had
just before Gerin gave him an ass' ear in place of his
own. Gerin went on, "What I mean is, I fear that Mavrix
seeks a foothold in my lands." He explained how the
Sithonian god of wine and fertility and creativity had
repeatedly cropped up of late, finishing, "Given what's
passed between the god and me—and between the god
and Rihwin—these past few years, the less presence he

344
Harry Turtledove
has here, the happier and safer I'll feel. I didn't dare
refuse the wine of Schild, for that would have offered
Mavrix insult direct But I shan't invite his presence by
broaching those jars, either."
"I had not considered the matter in that light," Rihwin
admitted after rather more thought than usual. "So far
as men can, you may well have wisdom there, lord prince.
But one thing you must always bear in mind: the lord of
the sweet grape is stronger than you are. If it be his will
that he establish himself in your holding, establish him-
self he shall, whether you will or not."
"I am painfully aware of that," Gerin said, sighing.
"But what I can do to prevent it, I will. I'm on good
terms with Baivers. Drink all the ale you please, Rihwin,
and I'll say not a word. The wine jars stay closed"
"Sense, lord prince," Utreiz Embron's son said Van
nodded After a moment, so did Drago. After a longer
moment, so did Rihwin.
"Good," Gerin said All the same, he quietly resolved
to take the wine jars from the cellar—where they resided
with the ale—and find a more secret place for them,
flihwin's intentions were surely good, but his actions lived
up to them no more than anyone else's—less than those
of a few people who crossed the Fox's mind.
The warriors trooped into the great hall, still loudly
congratulating Utreiz. "It's not as if I won the fight all by
my lonesome," he protested, much as Gerin might have
in the same circumstances. Nobody paid any attention
to him. He'd taken part in the victory and brought news
of it, and that was plenty.
Seeing the invasion, servants hurried downstairs and
into the kitchens. They quickly returned with ale (no
wine; the Fox checked each amphora to be sure of what
it held), meat from the night before, and bread to put it
on. Some of the warriors called for bowls of the pease

Prince of the North
345
porridge that simmered in a big pot above the hearth.
The troopers made enough racket to bring people
down from upstairs to see what was going on. Van caught
Fand in his arms, planted a loud, smacking kiss on her
mouth, and then sat down again, pulling her into his lap.
He grabbed for his jack of ale. "Here, sweetling, drink!"
he cried, almost spilling it down her chin. "We Ve beaten
Bevon and his boys proper, that we have."
"Is it so?' she said. "Aye, 111 drink to that, and right
gladly, too." She took the jack from his hand, drained it
dry. Gerin wondered if she would have been so ready to
toast a triumph over Adiatunnus—he, after all, was of
her own folk, not just an Elabonian on the wrong side.
The Fox shook his head. She'd never been disloyal to
him that way. When Van kissed her again, she responded
as if she meant to drag him upstairs in a moment—or
possibly not bother with dragging him upstairs. But then
she got off his lap to claim a drinking jack of her own and
fill it full of ale.
Selatre came down into the great hall in the middle
of that. She too got a jack of ale. Gerin stood to greet
her, but hesitated to do so much as take her hand; she
remained leery of publicly showing affection. Unlike
many, she didn't assume her own standards applied to
everyone: she watched Fand and Van with much more
amusement than disapproval.
She sat down on the bench by the Fox. "I take it the
news is good?" she said. Then she saw Utreiz. "Now I
know the news is good, and what sort of news it is. We've
beaten Bevon and his sons and taken back the full length
of the Elabon Way, not so?"
Gerin nodded. 'That's just what we've done." He gave
her an admiring look. "You don't miss much, do you?
Next time I have to ride out in a sweep against the mon-
sters, I think I'll leave you in charge back here."

346
Harry Turtledove
For the first time since they'd become lovers—maybe
for the first time since she'd come to Fox Keep—Selatre
got angry at him. "Don't mock me with things you know
I can't have," she snapped She waved to the crowd of
noisy, drinking warriors. 'The only use they have for
women is to tumble them, or maybe to have them fetch
up another jar of ale from the cellar. As if they'd pay
heed to me!" She glared
Taken aback at her vehemence, the Fox said slowly,
Tm sorry. I don't suppose I meant that altogether seri-
ously, but I didn't mean to mock you with it, either." He
plucked at his beard as he thought. "If you wanted to
badly enough, you could probably bring it off. All you'd
need to do is remind them that you'd once been Sibyl
and give them the feelingyour eye for what needed doing
was better than theirs even now."
"But that would be a lie," Selatre said
Gerin shook his head. "No, just a push in the right
direction. There's a magic to getting people to do
what you want that doesn't show up in any grimoire.
It uses what a person has done and who he is to show
that he—or she—is apt to do well, or to come up
with the right answer, or whatever you like, the next
time, too. That's what I was talking about here. You
could do it. Whether you'd want to or not is another
question."
"Some of me is tempted," she said in a small voice.
'The rest, though, the bigger half, wants no part of it
I'm not fond of having people tell me what to do, so I
don't think I have any business giving orders to anyone
else, either."
"Good for you," Gerin said "I never intended to be a
baron, much less somebody who calls himself a prince. I
just aimed at being a scholar, studying what I wanted
when I wanted to do it" Self-mockery filled his laugh.

Prince of the North
347
"What you aim at in life and what you end up with are
often two very different things."
That made him think of the jars of wine Schild had
sent him. They still sat down in the cellar, sealed and
innocuous, and he'd move them somewhere safer yet as
soon as he got round to it But with Mavrix immanent in
that wine, who could say how much his own aims mat-
tered?
The moons coursed through the sky Tiwaz swiftly,
Nothos so slowly that his phase seemed to change but
little from day to day, Elleb and Math in between. Gerin
paid them close heed for two reasons: to gauge the time
when the four moons would come full in the space of
three days, and to see how many days Aragis the Archer
had left to fulfill the promise his envoys had made.
Golden Math was two days past first quarter when
word came to Fox Keep that the monsters had attacked
a village near the southern boundary of Gerin's holding.
Cursing under his breath—why wouldn't things ever hold
still long enough for him to catch his breath?—he read-
ied a force of chariotry and set out to sweep the country-
side. He had no great hope of sweeping it clean, but
refused to sit idly by and let the creatures hold the initia-
tive.
The sweep actually went better than he'd expected.
His warriors caught three monsters feeding on a cow
they'd dragged down in the middle of a meadow close
by the road. With joyous whoops, they sent their chari-
ots jouncing over the grass to cut the monsters off from
the safety of the woods. The creatures were slow to flee,
too, staying at the carcass for a last couple of mouthfuls
of meat before they tried to get away. Thanks to that, the
Fox's men were able to bring them all down with no loss
to themselves.

348
Harry Turtledove
One of the monsters still tried to crawl toward the
woods despite having taken enough arrows to give it the
aspect of a hedgehog. Van got down from the car he
shared with Gerin and smashed in its head with his mace.
Then he and some of the other men began the gory
business of reclaiming shafts from the bodies of the crea-
tures.
Raffo turned to Gerin and said, "Here's another way
keeping the trees well back from the side of the road did
you a good turn, lord prince. If you'd let them grow up
close, as other barons do, those stinking things might
have made good their escape."
'That's true," Gerin said. "After a while, you some-
times get to wonder whether something's more trouble
than it's worth, but when you see the work you've spent
pay for itself, it reminds you that you might have known
what you were doing all along."
The war party reached the ravaged village a little before
sunset. The serfs there had fought back as well as they
could; they'd lost a man, two women, and some live-
stock, but they'd also managed to kill a monster. Gerin
sent his troopers out on a short foray into the forest sur-
rounding the village, ordering them to be back in the
open before night took them. That was one command
he was sure they'd obey—no one wanted to meet the
ghosts away from blood and fire.
A deadfall of branches and sticks caught the Fox's eye.
'There's a likely place," he said, pointing.
Van and Raffo both nodded. "Aye, you're right," Van
added, and probed the brush with his spear.
With a scream, a monster burst out and hurled itself
at him. He held it off with his shield, though its charge
forced him back two steps. Among them, he and Gerin
and Raffo made short work of the creature. "Female,"
Gerin noted

Prince of the North
349
"Aye, so it was. Mean enough, all the same," Van said,
sounding embarrassed at having to give ground He
sighed 'They re all mean enough, and to spare."
Inside the deadfall, something yowled—two some-
things, by the sound Gerin stared in dismay at Van. "It
had cubs," he said, as if accusing his friend.
"Aye," the oudander answered, and then, after a
moment, "No reason we should be surprised, I suppose.
The creatures must have been having cubs for the gods
only know how long, down in their caves. They'll have
kept right on doing it now that they're aboveground
This one will have been pregnant before she got
aboveground, come to that."
"So she will," Gerin said. The oudander was right, of
course, but that didn't take away the startlement The
Fox dug into the deadfall, scattering brush in all direc-
tions. After a moment, Van and Raffo pitched in to help.
They soon uncovered the monster cubs. Gerin stared
at them in dismay They looked like nothing so much as
ugly, hairy babies. "What are you going to do with them?'
Raffo asked, gulping a litde. Oddly, that made Gerin feel
a litde easier: the driver didn't have the stomach just to
kill them, either.
Van did "Get rid of them," he said "You know what
they turn into."
"I don't know what to do," the Fox answered slowly.
"Aye, I know what they turn into, but I'm still not sure
how smart the monsters are. If they learn I'm slaying
their cubs out of hand and understand that, it'll just make
them worse foes of mine than they are already."
"Honh!" Van said, a noise of deep discontent "How
could they be?'
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out"
'Well, what will you do?' Van asked scornfully. Take
'em home and make pets of'em?'

350
Harry Turtledove
"Why not? We have Fand back at Fox Keep... "Gerin
murmured Actually, the idea tempted him, tweaking
his curiosity. If you raised a monster among men, what
would you get? A monster? Apet, as Van hadsaid? Some-
thing not too far removed from an ugly, hairy man, or,
for that matter, an ugly, hairy woman? If he'd had fewer
things to worry about, if he'd had more leisure, if he
hadn't been certain all his vassals would scream even
louder than Van had, he might have tried the experi-
ment As it was— "I know what we'll do."
"What's that, lord?" Raffo asked
"Nothing," Gerin said "Nothing at all. We killed the
female in battle—well and good. We won't—we can't—
take the cubs back to Castle Fox. You're right about that,
Van. But I won't just slaughter them, either. I'll leave
them here. Maybe beasts will get them, or maybe, if the
monsters do have something in the way of family feel-
ing, they'll take them and raise them up. I'll leave that in
the hands of the gods."
He hadn't asked whether Van or Raffo approved Now
he looked to see if they did Raffo nodded Van still
seemed unhappy, but finally said, "You have a way of
looking for the middle road Fox. I suppose you found it
here. Let's go back."
When they returned to the village, they found the
other chariot crews had also had good luck. They'd killed
two monsters, the only serious injury they'd taken being
to Parol Chickpea, who'd just recovered from his bit-
ten buttock. Now he was gray-faced, and had a bloody
rag wrapped around his left hand—he'd lost two fin-
gers from it.
"How did that happen?" Gerin asked "His shield
should have protected him there. He's right-handed, so
he doesn't have that hand out in the open the way I do."
"Just bad luck," Drago the Bear answered. 'The

Prince of the North
351
monster he was fighting gave a good yank at his shield,
and it broke away from the handgrip and lashing. Then
the thing sprang at him, andhe stuck out his arm to keep
from getting its teeth in his neck instead. I hope he heals;
he's lost a lot of blood."
Gerin made unhappy clucking noises. "Aye, hes a good
fighter, and a long way from the worst of men." He kicked
at the dirt, feeling useless. "Would that the gods had
never let this plague of monsters loose on us. Every war-
rior, every serf even; we lose is one we cant replace."
'Thats all true, lord, but the creatures are here, and
we have to fend em off as best we can," Drago said
Gerin wished he could muster that same stolid accep-
tance for things he couldn't help.
The warriors started back toward the main road at
dawn the next day. Ihey left Parol Chickpea behind;
he'd taken a fever, and was in no condition to spend a
day in the chariot 'We'll do the best we can for him,
lord prince," the village headman promised With that
Gerin had to be content The serfs' herbs and potions
were as likely to help Parol as any of the fancier doctor-
ing techniques that came from south of the High Kirs.
Unfortunately, they were also as likely not to help.
When the dirt track the chariots were following ran
into the Elabon Way, Van pointed south and said, "More
cars heading up toward us, Captain."
The Fox hadn't looked southward; he was intent on
getting back to the keep. But his eyes followed Van's
pointing finger. His left eyebrow rose. "Quite a few cars,"
he said in surprise. T hope Bevon hasn't rallied and driven
my men off the highway again." He let out a long sigh.
'We'd better go find out" He tapped Raffo on the shoul-
der. The driver swung his chariot south. The rest of the
cars in the war party followed

352	Harry Turtledove
Before long, Gerin realized he didn't recognize any of
the approaching chariots. He also realized his band
was badly outnumbered. If Bevon somehow had man-
aged to pull off one victory, he might be on the point of
another.
Then Van pointed again. 'There in the second car,
Fox. Isn't that tall, skinny fellow Aragis the Archer?"
"Father Dyaus," Gerin said sofdy. He squinted. "Your
eyes are sharper than mine." Then he let out a whoop
loud enough to make Raffo start. "Aye, it is Aragis—and
see all the friends he's brought with him."
"A great whacking lot of them, that's for certain," Van
said.
The more teams and chariots Gerin saw, the more
thoughtful he grew. He started to regret that whoop of
glee. Measured all together, his own forces comfortably
outnumbered Aragis' army. But his forces were scattered
over several holdings and doing several different things,
which left: him in a decidedly uncomfortable position
here. If Aragis should decide to take advantage of his
superior numbers here on the spot, affairs in the
northlands would suddenly look very different, although
Gerin would be in no position to appreciate the differ-
ence.
A bold front had served him well many times in the
past He tapped Raffo on the shoulder again. "Let's go
down and give the grand duke proper greeting."
"Aye, lord prince." Raffo sounded a litde doubtful,
but steered the car toward the approaching host. The
rest of the chariots in Gerin's war party followed. He
heard some of his men muttering among themselves at
the course he took, but no one challenged him. He had
a reputation for being right The next few minutes would
show how well he deserved it
He waved toward the oncoming chariots. Someone

Prince of the North
353
waved back Marlanz Raw-Meat A moment later, Fabors
Faburs son waved, too. Then Aragis also raised his hand
to greet the Fox.
'Well met," Gerin called when he'd drawn a little closer
to Aragis' force. "You're in good time, and here with more
cars even than I'd looked for. Well met indeed We were
just out driving the monsters back from one of my vil-
lages, and slew several." And left two to an unsure fate,
he added to himself. Aragis didn't need to know about
that. He would surely have killed the cubs without a sec-
ond thought
"Good for you, lord prince," Aragis called back. "And
not only have I brought my men and my horses and my
cars, I have a present for you—two presents, as a matter
of fact."
"Have you now, grand duke?" The Fox hoped he
sounded fulsome rather than worried. An unscrupulous
man, which Aragis had a reputation of being, might
reckon a volley of arrows and a hard charge as presents.
But Aragis didn't order an attack. He reached down
into the car and held up a large, tightly tied leather sack.
"Here's one of them." Then he reached down again and
lifted something else, something heavier. His lips pulled
back from his teeth, partly from the effort and partly in
a real smile. "And here's die other."
From his arms, Duren squealed, "Father!"
Gerin prided himself on seldom being at a loss. His
pride suffered now, but he couldn't have cared less.
"Duren," he whispered.
Aragis couldn't possibly have heard that, but nodded
nonetheless. His driver reined in. He set Duren down
on the stone surface of the road The boy ran to Gerin's
chariot
The Fox jumped out of his car even though Raffo
hadn't stopped it He staggered a little when he landed,

354
Harry Turtledove
and then again when Duren ran into him full tilt. He
picked up his son and squeezed him so tight against his
own corseleted chest that he felt the air go out of the
boy. "Father, why are you crying?' Duren demanded
indignantly. "Aren't you glad to see me?'
"That's why I'm crying," Gerin answered: "Because
I'm glad to see you."
"I don't understand," Duren said.
"Never mind," Gerin told him. Aragis' chariot had
come up behind Duren. The Fox turned to the hawk-
faced grand duke and said, "You know I was afraid you'd
taken the boy, or rather kept him after someone else—it
would have been Tassilo, wouldn't it?—took him. I never
thought to get him back through you. To say I'm in your
debt just shows how little words can mean."
"You've yet to open your other gift," Aragis said. He
handed Gerin the leather sack without more explana-
tion.
When the Fox undid the knot in the rawhide lashing
that held it closed, a foul stench escaped. He nodded;
from the weight and heft of the sack, he'd expected it
would hold a head. He looked inside, nodded again, and
closed it. "Aye, that's Tassilo."
"I packed him in salt for some days after I—mm—
took him apart," Aragis said. "I wanted you to be able to
recognize him, to be sure he was dead."
Gerin picked up the sack and threw it into the grass
by the side of the road. It bounced a couple of times and
lay still.
"You gave him too easy an end, you ask me," Van told
Aragis.
"I thought on that," Aragis admitted "Still, though,
while he kidnapped the boy, he didn't do anything worse
while he had him. That may have been because he
wanted to keep his value as hostage high, but whatever

Prince of the North
355
the reason, its so. I let his end be easy on account of it"
"Hes dead. Thats all that matters," Gerin said. "No,
not all." He squeezed Duren breathless again, then asked
Aragis, "When did he come to you?"
"As the gods would have it, the day after I sent my
vassals to you seeking common cause," Aragis said "So
any of the men here with me will attest" His driver and
the other warrior in the car with him nodded, almost in
unison.
"I see," Gerin said slowly. He wondered if the grand
duke was telling the truth. Had he perhaps had Duren
earlier, and contemplated using him against the Fox?
Aragis was not a man to cross; no doubt his own vassals
would support him. Duren wouldn't know, not exacdy;
four-year-olds had very strange notions of time. Gerin
decided to let it lie for now.
"How fare you here?" Aragis asked. 'Tour own men
down further south were full of stories of hard fighting
to hold the road open."
'That's true, but we won the fight," Gerin said, dou-
bly glad Aragis hadn't had to try forcing his way through
Bevon's men—and quadruply glad Aragis hadn't tried
and failed. The Fox went on, 'We've had a few other
small things happening, too," and with that aiiy under-
statement explained his sweeps through his one holding
and the one Schild had so urgendy requested
"You've had a busy time of it," Aragis said, a state-
ment so self-evidendy true that Gerin didn't even bother
nodding. The grand duke added, "I was taking the omens
before I set out, and the bird's flight warned me I'd best
leave early rather than late, so here you see me now. Try
as I would, I couldn't make sense of why, but I accepted
the reading all the same."
"I think you did well," Gerin said, and told him of the
near werenight due in a few days.

Aragis' eyes narrowed. "Is that a fact?" he said, then
shook his head. "No, I'm not doubting you, Fox. Just
that, with so many things closer to home to keep track
of, I never thought to worry about the moons."
"Sometimes the things you most need to worry about
aren't the obvious ones," Gerin said. For some reason
that made him think, not of the untouchably distant
moons, but of Elise, who'd given no signs—no signs he'd
noticed, anyhow—of discontent until one day she was
simply gone.
Aragis said, "I have a hard enough time worrying about
the things that are obvious. The rest I leave to the gods
and clever fellows like you." His voice rang sardonic,
but only slightly He didn't worry about the long run or
the wide picture as much as Gerin did. In the short term,
and over the limited space of the northlands, his meth-
ods worked well enough.
"Lets head up to the keep," Gerin said. "We'll wait
out the moons there, if that suits you, and then do our
best to smash Adiatunnus. If his lands aren't a sanctuary
for the monsters, we'll stand a better chance of control-
ling them."
"I wonder if we'll ever be able to do that," Aragis said
gloomily. 'The damned Trokme's lands are nowhere near
mine, but the stinking creatures plague me as bad as
they do you, maybe worse. After we finish up here, I'll
want you and yours to ride south and help me clear my
hinterlands of em."
'That's why we made the pact," Gerin agreed, "though
as you say I don't know if we'll ever be able to clear them
completely now. Sometimes that strikes me as more a
job for gods than for men."
"If prayer were the answer, every monster in the
northlands would have died a hundred times by now,"
Aragis said.

Prince of the North
357
"Isn't that the sad and sorry truth?' Gerin said "But I
wasn't thinking so much of prayer. The gods hear prayer for
a double handful of thousands of different things every day.
No wonder most of them aren't granted—grant one and
a god rejects another in the granting. Whats crossed my
mind once or twice lately though, is... evocation."
Aragis stared at him. So did his own men. He didn't
blame any of them. The last time he'd been at all
involved in evoking was five years before, when Rihwin
summoned Mavrix to turn sour wine back into sweet
Rihwin hadn't intended to evoke Mavrix then, only to
invoke him. When you let a god fully enter the material
world, you ran a tremendous risk. Summoning the god
was relatively easy Controlling him once summoned was
anything but
"You have a reputation for not thinking small," Aragis
said at last, "and I see it's well earned."
"Dyaus above, it's not something I want to do," Gerin
exclaimed. "Why do you think I so want this alliance to
succeed? If we can beat the Trokmoi and the monsters
on our own, we won't have to think about calling on the
gods. But if it comes down to a choice between losing
the fight and trying one last great stroke to win it, which
would you take?"
"Damn me to the five hells if I know." Aragis shook
his head, as if Gerin had made him look at something he
would sooner not have contemplated. "As you say, lord
prince, let us hope the choice does not come down to
that. Shall we ride on to your keep now, and ready our-
selves for the fighting ahead?"
"I suggested as much a while ago, but we've been
standing around here talking instead," Gerin said. He
picked Duren up and started to set him in his own chariot.
'"Wait, Papa, I have to piddle," Duren said. He started
toward the bushes off to the side of the road Gerin and

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Harry Turtledove
Van both went with him, the one with drawn sword, the
other with heavy spear at the ready. Wild beasts and worse
dwelt in the woods these days.
When Duren was done, Van grabbed him by the feet
and carried him back to the chariot upside down. He
squealedlaughteralltheway. Hearing that laughter lifted
years from Gerin s heart He nodded to Aragis, who nod-
ded back. It was good to know there were depths to which
some men in the northlands would not sink.
Having Duren in the car with him bouncing up and
down made the trip back to Castle Fox one of the more
enjoyable journeys Gerin had ever taken. Even having
his son ask "Are we almost there yet?" with great regu-
larity didn't, couldn't, come close to taking the edge off
his happiness, not today.
When they got back to Fox Keep late that afternoon,
the casde was shut up tight against them. Gerin would
have been furious to find it any other way: the lookout
would have seen a great many chariots, far more than
had set out the previous morning, and had better have
assumed they were hostile. The Fox rode up close
enough for the warriors on the palisade to recognize him
and called, "We're all friends here—Aragis the Archer
has brought his men north. And look!" As Aragis had
before him, he held Duren high.
The men on the wall cheered themselves hoarse. The
drawbridge came down quickly, heavy bronze chain rat-
tling over the winch. Van asked quietly, "Where are we
going to put all of Aragis' men? The keep won't hold the
lot of 'em, and besides—■"
"I won't want all of them inside at once until I have
more of my own troopers here to balance the scale,"
Gerin finished for him. "I don't see how I can keep from
feasting 'em tonight, but after that..." Now he let his
voice trail away.

Prince of the North
359
"Look sharp," Van said "Here's Aragis coming up."
The grand duke said, "Lord prince, we are allies, but
not yet certain of each other, although you've been too
polite to speak much of that We've brought canvas and
such; if it please you, most of my men will sleep outside
the keep. You need have no fear. We'll set a watch against
monsters and such, as we did on the road north."
Gerin dipped his head. "I thank you. You've just made
my life easier."
"I thought that might be so." Aragis' smile was pleas-
ant enough, but something hard remained under the
surface. "I might have made other plans, did I not need
your aid in the south as much as you need mine here—
maybe more."
"Indeed," Gerin said "I understand what you're say-
ing. Your grandson will rule mine, maybe, or mine yours,
but if we fight now, we both go under. We'll be wise to
bear that in mind all through this campaign."
"My grandson will have his own worries," Aragis said
"I can't untangle mine right now, let alone his. But as
you say, Fox, remembering we need each other is the
best way to keep from going to war too soon."
It was probably the only way that would hold Aragis
in check, Gerin thought. The Archer, by all evidence,
was ruthlessly effective in pursuing his own interests.
Reminding him that Gerin was part of those interests
seemed eminendy practical. Nodding, the Fox said,
"Shall we go into the keep together? You'll guest with
me, of course."
"Apart from my men, you mean? Aye, of course,"
Aragis answered. One thing his nature made easy: Gerin
didn't have to waste time with polite-sounding explana-
tions. Aragis saw through to the essence of things and
accepted them for what they were.
Some of the men on the palisade came down to greet

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Harry Turtledove
the Fox and his companions. Others held their posts,
bows ready. Hearing the commotion, servants came out
from the great hall to see what was happening. So did
Fand and Selatre.
Seeing Fand, Duren jumped out of the chariot and
ran to her. She scooped him up in an embrace, said to
Gerin, "Och, you got him back! Good on you there."
"First thing thats gone right in a while," the Fox said.
Then he glanced toward Selatre and corrected himself:
"No, the second thing."
Duren wiggled out of Fands arms. He pointed at
Selatre. "Who is that lady? I've never seen her before."
He looked thoughtful, which made him look amazingly
like a miniature, beardless version of Gerin. "Is that my
mama come back?" he asked, hope lighting his face
brighter than the sun. He'd barely been toddling when
Elise left: Fox Keep.
"No, it's not," Gerin said gently, and the sparkle died
in Duren's eyes. His father went on, "But do you know
who it is? That's the lady who used to be the Sibyl down
at Ikos, the one the god spoke through. Her name is
Selatre. She lives at Fox Keep now."
"My vassals spoke to me of this," Aragis said, without
giving any hint of how he felt about it
Duren studied Selatre, then asked the child's natural
question: "Why?"
Gerin had always tried to be as straightforward with his
son as he could. That wasn't easy now, but he did his best
"Because the earthquake—do you remember the earth-
quake?' Duren nodded, eyes wide. Gerin continued, 'The
earthquake knocked down Bitons temple at Ikos, and it
let loose the monsters from underground there. Van and
I were afraid the monsters would kill Selatre and eat her,
the way they do, so we rescued her and brought her to
Castle Fox with us when we came back."

Prince of the North
361
"Oh," Duren said "All right." After a moment, he
asked, "Why were you and Van at Ikos?"
'To ask the god to tell us through the Sibyl where you
were," Gerin answered
"Oh," Duren said again. "But I was with Tassilo." By
his tone, that was as much a fact of nature as trees' leaves
being green.
"But we didn't know you were with Tassilo," the Fox
reminded him. "And even if we had known it, we didn't
know where Tassilo was."
"Why not?" Duren asked, at which point Gerin threw
his hands in the air.
He said, "Let's bring up some of the good ale from
the cellar, slay an ox and some sheep, and rejoice that
we have enough bold warriors here now to take on the
Trokmoi and the monsters." Or so I hope, at any rate, he
thought. If toe don't, we're in even more trouble than I
reckoned on before.
"Nothing finer than a good sheep's head, all cooked
up proper, with plenty of ale to wash it down," Drago
the Bear declared. Baron though he was, he had a
peasant's taste in food.
The Fox looked to the sty With sunset near, all the
moons were up: liwaz at first quarter near the merid-
ian, then Elleb halfway between first quarter and full,
and then, close together and low in the east, Math and
Nothos. Gerin shook his head. Five years earlier, he'd
paid attention to the motions of the moons mostly to let
him gauge the time by night; seeing them crawl together
now sent a shiver of dread through him. This stretch,
surely, would not approach the horrors of the werenight,
but how bad would it be? No way to know, not yet
He said, 'The blood of the beasts slaughtered for our
supper will hold the ghosts at bay. If you like, grand duke,
we'll do some of the butchering outside the keep, that

362
Harry Turtledove
your mens encampment may also gain the boon of
blood."
"A good thought," Aragis said "Do it" He was so
direct, he even used words like soldiers, sending forth
no more than he needed to carry out his plans.
"Might we not broach even one of the jars of wine we
have from Schild to help us rejoice in this alliance?"
Rihwin asked
"No," Gerin and Van said in the same breath. Gerin
pretended not to see the curious look Aragis sent him
for quashing the question so quickly. He was heartily
glad he'd taken those jars out of the cellar and hidden
them deep under straw in the stables. To Rihwin, he
went on, "Ale suffices for the rest of us, so it will have to
do for you, too." Rihwin's pout made him look positively
bilious, but he finally gave a glum nod.
Duren kept running around the courtyard and in and
out of the great hall, as if making sure things hadn't
changed while he was gone. Every once in a while, his
voice would rise in excitement "I remember that!" He'd
been gone a quarter of a year, no small chunk of a four-
year-old's life.
Selatre came over to Gerin and said "He's a promis-
ing boy."
'Thank you. I've always thought so," the Fox answered
"I just praise Dyaus and all the gods that he doesn't seem
to have suffered badly in Tassilo's cursedhands. The min-
strel must have reckoned he'd need him hale and not
too unhappy as a hostage." That sparked a thought in
him. He called his son over and asked, "How was it that
you went away with Tassilo when he took you away from
here?"
"He promised he'd teach me his songs and show me
how to play the lute," Duren answered "He did too,
but my hands are too small to play a big one. He said he

Prince of the North
363
would make me a litde one, but he never did do that"
And then, to the Foxs surprise, Duren started chanting
what Tassilo had called the song of Gerin at his visit to
Fox Keep. He did it better than he'd ever sung before
he was kidnapped; in that, at least, the minstrel had kept
his promise. It wasn't remotely enough.
One of the cooks came out and said, "Lords, the feast
begins!" The warriors streamed into the great hall. Even
with chairs and benches brought down from upstairs, it
was still packed tight
Fat-wrapped thighbones smoked on Dyaus' altar by
the hearth. When a servant brought Gerin a jack of ale,
he poured a libation to Baivers and the rest of the ale
down his throat A serving woman picked her way down
the narrow space between benches, pulling rounds of
flatbread from a platter piled high and setting one in
front of each feaster in turn.
She would have gone faster had more than a few men
not tried to pull her down onto their laps or to grab at
her as she went past. One of them wound up with
flatbread draped over his face instead of on the table
before him. "I'm so sorry, noble sir," she said, very much
as if she meant it
A cook with a sheep's head on a spit carried it to the
fire and carefully started singeing off the wool. "Oh, that
will be fine when it's finished," Drago said. He thumped
his thick middle. "Have to remember to save some room
for it"
Servants with meat more quickly cooked—steaks and
chops and roasted slices of hearts and kidneys and liv-
ers—came by and set the sizzling gobbets on top of the
fiatbreads. The feasters attacked diem with belt knives
and fingers. They threw gnawed bones down into the
dry rushes that covered the floor. Dogs growled and
snarled at one another as they scrambled for scraps.

364
Harry Turtledove
Aragis the Archer raised his drinking jack in salute to
Gerin, who sat across the table from him. "Youre a gen-
erous host, lord prince," he said
"We do what we can, grand duke," the Fox replied
"Once in a while, for celebration, is all well and good If
we ate like this every day, we'd all starve, serfs and nobles
together, long before midwinter rolled around."
"I understand that full well," Aragis said "Between
war and hunger and disease, we live on the edge of a
cliff. But by the gods, it's fine sometimes to step back
from the edge and make life into what it was meant to
be: plenty of food, plenty of drink—you brew a fine ale—
and no worries, not for today." He raised his jack again,
then drained it. A servant with a pitcher made haste to
refill it.
Selatre turned to Gerin. Under the noise of the crowd,
she said, "Surely there's more to life than a full belly."
"I think so, too," he said, nodding. "So does Aragis, no
doubt, or he'd be content to stay in his castle and stuff
himself. If you ask me, he'd sooner drink power than
ale." But then, trying to be just, he added, "If you don't
have a full belly, not much else matters. Years the har-
vest fails, you find out about that" He paused thought-
fully. "What civilization is, I suppose, is the things you
find to worry about after your belly's full."
"I like that," Selatre said Now she nodded "Well said"
Van sat at Gerin's right hand, with Duren between
them. He'd been talking with Fand, and missed Gerin's
words. Selatre's brisk statement of approval caught his
notice. "What's well said, Fox?" he asked.
Gerin repeated himself. Van thought it over—per-
haps a bit more intensely than he might have at other
times, for he'd emptied his drinking jack again and
again—and finally nodded. "Something to that." He
waved a big arm in a gesture that almost knocked a plate

Prince of the North
365
out of a servants hands. "You Elabonians, you've a great
many things past farming. I give you so much, that I do."
Fand rounded on him. "And what o' my own folk?"
she demanded "Sure and you're not with the southrons
who call us woodsrunners and barbarous savages and
all, are you now?"
"Now, now, lass, I said nothing of the sort. I didn't
speak of the Trokmoi at all, just of the folk of my friend
here," Van answered, mildly enough. Gerin breathed a
silent sigh of relief; he'd seen trouble riding Fand's ques-
tion as sure as rain rode a squall line. Then, to his dis-
may, the oudander, instead of leaving well enough alone,
went on, "Though now that you ask me, I will say that,
since I traveled the forests of the Trokmoi from north to
south, I'd far sooner live here than there. More good
things to life here, taken all in all."
"Would you, now?" In the space of three words, Fand's
voice rose to a screech that made heads whip around
'Well, have some fine Elabonian ale, then!" She picked
up her drinking jack and poured it over Van's head, then
got up from the bench and started to stalk off.
Snorting and cursing and blinking because the sting-
ing stuff ran down into his eyes, Van reached out a meaty
hand and hauled her back She squawked and swung at
him. He blocked the blow with his other arm, slammed
her down into her seat hard enough to make her teeth
come together with a loud click. "Here, see how you like
it," he said, and drenched her with his jack of ale.
She cursed him in Elabonian and the forest tongue,
loudly and ingeniously. He justsat there grinning, which
fanned the fires of her wrath.
"Go on, both of you, and dry yourselves off," Gerin
said, uncomfortably aware a common role for a would-
be peacemaker was taking arrows from both sides. "Van
may say what he thinks—"

366
Harry Turtledove
Td like to see anyone stop me," the outlander put in.
"Shut up, will you?' Gerin hissed at him before con-
tinuing, "—and you, lady, may agree or not, as you judge
best. But if you drench someone, you shouldn't be sur-
prised or even angry to get drenched in return."
He waited for her to flare back at him, but every once
in a while logic reached her. This proved one of those
times. "Aye, summat to that," she said, tossing her head
so little drops of ale flew from her coppery hair. She
looked warily at Van. "Quits for now?"
"Aye, for now." This time, the outlander got up first
Fand followed him. Gerin wondered if they'd look for a
towel or the nearest bedchamber. He laughed a little.
Even if Fand wasn't his woman any more, he still got
involved in her quarrels.
After a while, Duren said, "Why aren't Van and Fand
coming back?"
"I think they're probably making up their quarrel,"
Gerin answered, smiling.
"Seldom dull around this place, is it?" Aragis said He
was smiling, too, more than half in bemusement. "My
keep is more, mm, sedate."
By which you mean anyone who doesn't think like
you had best not let you know it, Germ thought But
how the Archer ran his holding was his business. Duren
curled up in the space Fand and Van had vacated and
went to sleep. Gerin ruffled his hair and said, "Some-
body finds it dull, anyhow." He stared down at the little
boy, still hardly daring to believe he had him back again,
then raised his jack to Aragis in salute. Returning Duren
made up for a multitude of the grand duke's sins.
Presendy Van and Fand did return. Fand looked
rumpled. The outlander looked smug. They both looked
surprised when they found Duren stretched out where
they'd been sitting.

Prince of the North
367
"Don't worry," Gerin said "You can have your places
back. HI take him up to bed" He scooped up his son,
who wiggled and muttered but did not wake.
Selatre drained her drinking jack, set it down, and
brought a hand up to her mouth to cover a yawn. Tm
for my own bed," she announced. Til walk up with you,
if that's all right."
'Tour company is better than just all right, as you know
very well," Gerin said. He lifted Duren up as high as he
could, to keep the boy's dangling legs from catching any
of the feasters in the head, and made his way toward the
stairs. Selatre followed.
Duren sighed again when Gerin put him down in the
bed they both used Duren muttered something, but
Gerin couldn't make out what it was. "He has the look of
you," Selatre said
The Fox nodded as he straightened up. "He has my
coloring, certainly I suppose his features are mosdy mine,
too." Gendy, he pulled off his sleeping son's shoes and
tossed them by the side of the bed. "After what hap-
pened, I hate to leave him alone, even for an instant."
"I don't blame you," Selatre said. "But if he's not safe
here in your bedchamber, where can he be safe?"
"The way the world wags now? Maybe nowhere,"
Gerin said bleakly. "None of us is really safe these days."
He took a couple of steps over to Selatre, put his arms
around her, and kissed her. "We just have to do the best
we can, that's all."
She nodded. "Do you think you could leave him alone
long enough to come with me to my litde chamber?"
He paused in some surprise before he answered: she
hadn't invited him to her chamber before. After he'd
given it to her, he'd stayed out of it, not wanting to infringe
on the privacy he knew she craved On the other hand,
the two of them would need privacy from Duren now.

368
Harry Turtledove
She'd grown up with everyone sleeping and doing
eveiything else in one big bed, but he hadn't He slipped
an arm around her waist T think I'll take that chance."
Afterwards, though, he quickly dressed and returned
to his own room. Wanting to make sure Duren was safe
was only part of that. Selatre's chamber lay on the south
side of the hall, and its window faced south. light from
the moons streamed into the chamber and cast multiple
shifting shadows. With what lay ahead, Gerin wanted to
think about the moons as little as he could.
Golden Math came full first. That night passed well
enough: Tiwaz was two days before full, ruddy Elleb
and Nothos both one day before. All three of them had
risen earlier than Math, and so their rays did much to
diminish the one full moon's effect.
From the werenight of five years before, Gerin knew
which of his men were vulnerable to taking beast's shape.
The two he worried most about were Widin Simrin's
son—who'd been just a boy at the time of the
werenight—and Parol Chickpea. He wondered how
Parol was, down in the serf village. Widin he locked away
in the cellar with the ale; the youngster came through
that first night unchanged.
He fretted more over Aragis' men than over his own,
for they were an unknown quantity to him. He asked
the Archer which of his men had the were taint, but
Aragis was vague: "Lord prince, that's hard for me to
answer, for my vassals were most of 'em at their own
keeps the night of the werenight The Trokmoi hadn't
reached my lands yet, so we were still at ease. After-
wards, I had more urgent things to worry about than
finding out which of my warriors had donned beast shape.
I just didn't see the need"
Gerin looked down his nose at the grand duke. "Which

Prince of the North
369
means we're vulnerable now," he said in reproof as mild
as he could make it. No, Aragis wasn't forethoughtful
enough; when something had gone, he assumed its like
would return no more.
As the next evening approached, the one on which
Elieb and pale Nothos would be full and swift-moving
Tiwaz and Math but one day to either side of it, he sent
all of Aragis' men save the Archer himself, Marlanz Raw-
Meat, and Fabors Fabur's son out to the tented encamp-
ment they'd made. If trouble broke out, he wanted it
well away from the keep. To his relief, the only com-
ment Aragis made was, "A sensible precaution, lord
prince."
The Fox sent Widin Simrin's son to his shelter and
mewed him up, saying, Tf you don't change tonight,
you probably won't tomorrow. But better safe—we'll
enclose you then, too." Widin just nodded; he knew
necessity when he saw it
Tiwaz came up over the eastern horizon first, a day
before full and not far from round Then, as the sun set,
Elleb and Nothos rose side by side. Gerin watched them
from the palisade. No cries of alarm rent the air the instant
the two full moons appeared, for which he gave hearty
thanks. Golden Math soon followed. Because she moved
through her phases more slowly than Tiwaz, her bright
disk was even closer to a perfect circle than his.
When all four moons were in the sky and no screams
of horror had come from within the keep or from the
tents where Aragis' men sheltered, the Fox decided he
could safely descend and eat supper. He'd been sen-
sible enough to have plenty of ale brought up before he
closed Widin in the cellar, so washing down his meat
would not be a problem.
Aragis, who was already gnawing on beef ribs
basted with a spicy sauce, greeted him with a wave

370
Harry Turtledove
and something not far from a sneer. "All quiet as the
tomb here, lord prince. Seems to me you fretted over
nothing."
Gerin shrugged. "Better to be ready for trouble and
not have it than to have it and not be ready, as happened
at the werenight of the four full moons."
"Can't quarrel hard with that, I suppose," Aragis
admitted. He took another big bite from the rib he was
holding; grease ran down his chin. "Your cooks do a fine
job indeed; I give you that without any argument"
"Glad something here makes you happy," Gerin
answered. He waved to one of the kitchen servants for
some ribs of his own.
"Only thing that bothers me about sitting here some
days eating your good food is that we could have been
out campaigning already, striking at the Trokmoi and
the monsters," Aragis said
'They'll be there, grand duke, never fear," Gerin said
The servant plopped a round of flatbread on the table in
front of him, then set atop it several steaming ribs. He
tried to pick one up, scorched his fingers, and stuck them
in his mouth. Aragis hid a chuckle behind a swig of ale.
"I thought you were the patient sort, lord prince,"
Fabors Fabur's son said slyly, a gibe enough to the point
to make Gerin's ears heat
"I don't know why everyone is praising the food to
the skies," Marlanz Raw-Meat grumbled. 'They've
cooked it to death, and that after I told them and told
them I like it with the juice still in it"
Gerin stared over toward the gobbet of meat Marlanz
was attacking. It might have been lightly singed on the
outside, but juice and blood from it soaked the flatbread
on which it lay. If Marlanz wanted it cooked less, he
should have torn it off a cow as the beast ran by.
Before he could say as much, Gerin looked from the

Prince of the North
371
dripping chunk of meat to Marlanz himself. His beard
seemed thicker and bushier than it had moments before,
his teeth extraordinarily long and white and sharp. His
eyes gave back the torchlight with red glints of their own.
"Meat!" he snarled "Rrraw meat!" The backs of his
hands grew hairier by the heartbeat
"Your pardon," Fabors Faburs son said, his voice ris-
ing to a frightened squeak as he slid down the bench
away from his friend Aragis' eyes were wide and star-
ing. Van started to draw his sword, then slammed it back
into its sheath. Gerin understood that; he'd stopped his
own hand halfway to the hilt of his blade. Unless struck
with silver, werebeasts knit as fast as they were cut. He'd
seen that, to his horror and dismay, during the werenight
"Rrrraw mead" Marlanz said again, and growled deep
in his throat. His voice was hardly a voice at all—more
like an angry howl.
"Give him what he wants," Gerin called quickly to
the frightened-looking cooks. "Raw meat, and lots of it"
The men used that as an excuse to flee the great hall.
Gerin hoped one of them, at least, would be brave
enough to come back with meat. If not, Marlanz was
going to try getting it from the warriors and women with
whom he'd sat down to supper.
A cook, staggering under the weight of the haunch he
carried on a platter, came slowly out of the kitchens. He
did not bring the meat out to Marlanz, but set it down
between the hearth and Dyaus' altar and then retreated
much faster than he'd advanced Gerin found himself
unable to complain. That the fellow had come back at
all was enough.
The Fox rose and edged past Marlanz, whose tongue
lolled from jaws that had stretched remarkably to
accommodate the improved cudery they now contained
"Good wolf," Gerin said in a friendly way, as if he were

372
Harry Turtledove
talking to one of the keep s dogs. He looked around for
those dogs, and did not see them—they'd all run outside
as Marlanz began to change. They wanted no part of
him. Gerin didn't, either, but he had less choice.
Grunting, he picked up the platter and carried it over
to Marlanz. He bowed over it as if he were an innkeeper
serving up an elaborate repast at some splendid hostelry
in the City of Elabon. Indeed, his concern for his client's
satisfaction was even more pressing than such an
innkeeper's: none of their guests was likely to devour
them if displeased with his proffered supper.
Marlanz looked from the dripping haunch to Gerin
and back again. He bent low over the meat and sniffed
it, as if to make certain no flame had ever touched it
Then, not bothering with the knife that lay on the table
by the platter, he began to feed. That was the only word
that seemed appropriate to Gerin—Marlanz tore off bite
after bite with his teeth, worked his jaws briefly, and
gulped down the barely chewed chunks. Meat vanished
from the bone at an astonishing rate.
Gerin hurried back to the kitchens. 'That haunch may
not be enough," he warned. "What else have you?"
A cook pointed. There's but half a pigs carcass, lord
prince, that we were going to—■"
"Never mind whatyou were going to do with it," Gerin
snapped Some of the doctors down in the City of Elabon
reckoned eating raw pork unhealthy That, as far as the
Fox was concerned, was Marlanz s lookout. He grabbed
the split carcass by the legs and lugged it out into the
great hall.
As he came up to Marlanz, he realized that the offal
from the carcass would have served just as well in the
noble's present condition. He did not, however, have the
temerity to haul the meat back from the kitchens. Instead,
he set it on the table in front of Marlanz, who began

Prince of the North
373
destroying it with the same wolfish single-mindedness
he'd shown on the chunk of beef.
"He cant eat all that," Van said as Gerin cautiously sat
back down.
"You have my leave to tell him as much," Gerin said
"Go right ahead" Van sat where he was; he was as bold
as any man ever born, but a long way from a fool. Fand
set a hand on his arm, as if to congratulate him for his
good sense. That surprised Gerin, who would have
expected her to urge die outlander into any fight that
came along.
"I'd have tried fighting him, lord prince," Aragis said,
his eyes shifting back and forth from Gerin to Marlanz.
'Tour way is better, though. You're sorry to lose so much
meat, no doubt, but you'd be sorrier losing men hurt or
killed against a werebeast that can't be slain—and one
who's a good vassal when in his proper shape."
"That last weighed heaviest on my mind," Gerin said
"For which I am in your debt," Aragis said, "and
Marlanz will be when he comes back to himself."
Marlanz wasn't quite in full beast shape, as he would
have been during the werenight of five years before; he
seemed rather a man heavily overlain with wolf. That
made Gerin wonder if he possessed the full invulner-
ability werebeasts had enjoyed then. Some experiments,
he'd found were more interesting to think about than
to try. And, as Aragis had said, Marlanz was a good fel-
low—and certainly looked to be a good warrior—when
fully human.
The Fox wondered if he was going to have to get more
meat still to set before Marlanz. As a werebeast, he ate
like a wolf. Little by Me, though, Marlanz slowed. He
glared around at the unchanged men and women watch-
ing him, then picked up what was left of the pig carcass
with mouth and pawlike hands and carried it over to a

374
Harry Turtledove
dark corner of the great hall. There he set it down while
he heaped up rushes beside it into a sort of nest. He lay
down in that nest, turned himself around a couple of
times to accommodate its shape to his, and fell asleep.
"I hope he sleeps well," Gerin said sincerely. "Come
sunrise tomorrow, he'll be a man again."
Selatre giggled "And wondering mightily, too, how
he happened to end up on the floor beside half—no,
less than that now—a dead pig."
"Maybe we'll call him Marlanz Pork-Ribs," Rihwin
said blithely.
Fabors Fabur's son sent him a serious look. 'Van of
the Strong Arm might possibly do that and have it taken
in good part For anyone less imposing, such chaffing is
liable to be unwise."
"I think you're likely to be right," Gerin said He too
gave Rihwin a severe look. Sometimes Rihwin paid
attention to such signals, sometimes he didn't Gerin
hoped this was one of the times he did, because he might
end up veiy sorry if he got Marlanz angry at him.
"I hope that will be our only excitement for the night,"
Selatre said. Even Van, an incurable adventurer, nod-
ded the horrors of the werenight must have burned
themselves into his memory for good.
Gerin said 'Til check and see how Widin is doing."
He went down to the door of the cellar, rapped on it,
and asked "Are you all right in there, Widin?"
"Aye, and still in my own shape, too," his young vassal
answered. "May I come out now?"
"I don't see why not," Gerin answered "Marlanz Raw-
Meat's long since gone were; if the fit hasn't hit you by
now, I don't expect it will tonight" He unbarred tlie door
and released Widin.
"What sort of beast is he?" Widin asked.
"Wolf, like most northern werecreatures," the Fox said

Prince of the North
375
"Actually, he's about half wolf and half man right now.
Hes gone to sleep in the rushes, guarding some meat
like a hound. Come upstairs to the great hall, and you
can see him for yourself."
He led Widin upstairs. Widin gave the sleeping
Marlanz a wide berth, and did not turn his back on him
even for a moment. That struck the Fox as eminendy
practical. A trooper who'd drawn palisade duty came to
the entrance to the great hall and said, "Lord prince, a
warrior of Aragis' wants us to let down the gate so he can
have speech with you."
"Is he in his own proper shape, with no beasts with
him?" Gerin asked after a moments thought.
"Aye, lord, he is," the sentry answered. 'The moons
are so bright, nothing could hide, neither."
<cWe'll let him in, then," Gerin decided. He walked
out to the gate and told that to the men who worked
the drawbridge, adding, "but we'll raise the bridge again
as soon as he's across it into the courtyard here." That
would mean more work for the men, but he did not
want to leave the keep open and vulnerable to what-
ever lurked under two full moons and the other two
nearly full.
Down ratded the drawbridge. As soon as Aragis' war-
rior had crossed it, the gate crew hauled it back up again.
The fellow came over to Gerin and sketched a salute.
"Lord prince, I'm Rennewart Forkbeard, one of Aragis'
vassals, as your man said" He was middle-aged, solid-
looking, and wore his beard in the old-fashioned style
his ekename described
"What's toward in your camp out there?" Gain asked
"You've had a man take beast shape, is that it?"
To his surprise, Rennewart shook his head. "No, it's
not that. Oh, a couple of the lads are hairier than they
have any business being, but they're all still their own

376
Harry Turtledove
selves, if you knowwhat I mean. We aren't worried about
'em. No, the thing of it is, just a little bit ago we had a
man walk into camp naked as the day he was bom, and a
deal bigger. He's not one of ours. We were wondering if
he came from the keep here some kind of way, or maybe
from your peasant village not far off."
"Why do you need to ask me?" Gerin said. 'Why not
just ask him?"
"Lord prince, the thing of it is, he won't talk—won't
say a word, I mean," Rennewart answered "Won't or
maybe can't—I don't know which. We figured you'd
know him if anybody did."
"Yes, I suppose I would," Gerin said, puzzled: his hold-
ing had a couple of deaf-mutes, but they lived in distant
villages and had no reason to show up at Fox Keep in
the middle of the night, especially naked He plucked at
his beard; his curiosity was tickled "All right, Rennewart,
I'll come out and look at him."
The walk from keep to camp was short enough that
the ghosts did not much afflict him before he came to
the area protected by the sacrifices Aragis' men had
made. Most of them were awake, either on watch or
aroused by word of the strange newcomer.
"We brought him into my tent, lord prince,"
Rennewart said, leading Gerin to it and holding the flap
wide. "Here he is."
Gerin drew his word before he went in, wary of a
trap. But the inside of the tent was brightly lit by several
lamps, and held only some blankets and, as promised,
one naked man sprawling on them.
"I've never set eyes on him before," Gerin said posi-
tively. "I'd know him, were he from my lands." The fel-
low was almost Van's size, and just as well-thewed as the
enormous outlander. He was swarthy and hairy, with a
beard that came up almost to his dark eyes and a hairline

Prince of the North
377
that started just above them. "Who are you?" the Fox
asked "Where are you from?'
The naked man listened with eveiy sign of attention—
mute he might be, but he wasn't deaf—but didn't answer.
Gerin tried again, this time in the Trokme language. The
fellow stirred on the blankets, but again gave no answer
and no real sign he understood.
<cWe tried that, too, lord prince, with no better luck
than you just had," Rennewart Forkbeard said.
"Go fetch my companion, Van of the Strong Arm,"
Gerin said. "He knows more different languages than
any other man I've met"
Rennewart hurried away, and soon returned with
the outlander. Listening to the drawbridge go down
and up, Gerin spared a moment's sympathy for the
gate crew. Van stared at the naked man with interest.
Like the Fox, he started off with Elabonian and the
Trokme tongue, and failed with both. Then he used
the guttural language of the Gradi, who lived north of
the Trokmoi, and after that brought no response he
spoke in the hissing tongue used by the nomads of
the Shanda plains. Those, at least, Gerin recognized.
Van tried what must have been a dozen languages in
all, maybe more. The shifting sounds of his words
interested the naked man, but not enough to make
him say anything past a couple of grunts. After a while,
Van spread his hands. "I give up, Captain," he said,
returning to Elabonian.
"Come to think of it, I have one other tongue," Gerin
said, and addressed the naked stranger in Sithonian, a
language he read more fluendy than he spoke it He
might as well have saved his breath.
"He can hear," Rennewart said (fWe saw that"
"Aye, and he's not altogether mute, anyhow," the Fox
agreed "But—" He paused, a suspicion growing in him,

378	Harry Turtledove
then said, "Maybe what he needs is a jack of ale. Could
you bring him one, please?"
Rennewart sent him a first-rate dubious look, but
brought the jack as asked. He handed it to Gerin,
saying, "Here, you want him to have this, you give it to
him."
Gerin took the couple of steps that brought him over
to the naked man. He held out the leather jack, smiling
invitingly. The stranger took it, gaped at it, but did not
raise it to his lips. Quietly, Van said, "Its like he never
saw one before."
"I'm beginning to think that's just what it's like," Gerin
answered. He took back the jack, drank from it to show
what it was for, and returned it to the naked man. The
fellow drank then, clumsily, so ale trickled through his
beard and dripped on the ground. He spent a moment
thinking over the taste, then smacked his lips and gulped
down the rest of the ale. He held out the jack to Gerin
with a hopeful expression.
Gerin pulled him to his feet "Here, come along with
me," he said, and eked out his words with gestures. The
naked man followed him willingly enough. So did Van
and Rennewart, both looking curious.
The naked man jumped when the drawbridge thud-
ded down, but went across it with the Fox. The feasters
in the great hall stared at the newcomer; Gerin hoped
Van didn't notice Fand's admiring glance. He gave the
fellow another jack of ale, then took a pitcherful with
him as he led the naked man down to the cellar from
which he'd but lately released Widin.
Lured by the prospect of more ale, the stranger again
accompanied him without protest Gerin set the pitcher
on the ground. As the stranger made for it, the Fox hur-
ried out of the cellar, shut the door behind him, and
dropped the bar. Then he went back up to the great hall,

Prince of the North
379
poured a jack of ale for himself, and gulped it down in
one long draught
"All right, Captain, what was that all about?" Van
demanded when he thumped the jack down on the table.
"You know something; I can see it in your face."
Gerin shook his head. "Come morning, 111 know
something. Now I just suspect"
"Suspect what?' several people answered in the same
breath.
"I suspect I just locked a werebeast in the cellar," Gerin
answered.
Again several people spoke at once, Aragis loudest
and most to the point "But that was no beast—he was a
man."
"And quite a man he was, too," Fand murmured,
which drew her a sharp look from Van.
<tfWhen men go were, they take beast shape," the Fox
said, filling his drinking jack again. "If a beast goes were,
though, what would it becomeP A man, unless all logic
lies. And look at this fellow—not just at how hairy he
was, either. He had no idea how to be a man. He wore
no clothes, he couldn't speak, he didn't know what a cup
was for till I showed him	As I say, we'll know for
certain come morning, when we open the cellar door
after moonset and see who—or what—is down there."
Aragis shook his head, still doubtful. But Selatre said,
"I like the notion. It might even explain how the mon-
sters came to be: suppose a female beast turned woman
long years ago, and a farmer or hunter found her and
had his way with her and got her with child. Come morn-
ing, she'd be an animal once more, but who knows what
litter she would have borne?"
"It could be so," Gerin said, nodding. "Or men as
werebeasts might have mixed their blood with females
of their beast kind. Either way, you're right—the get

380
Harry Turtledove
might be horrific. Its a better guess at how the monsters
began than any that's crossed my mind." He raised his
jack in salute to her cleverness.
"If you conceive by me, you'll knowwhat you'll have,
lass," Van said to Fand
"More trouble than I'd knowwhat to do with, I expect,"
she retorted
"How d'you put a viper's tongue in such a pretty
mouth?" he asked, and she looked smug.
The ale ran out not long after that, and no one seemed
enthusiastic about going down to the cellar for more,
not with the stranger down there. No one seemed
enthusiastic about staying in the great hall, either, even if
Marlanz had plenty of raw meat by his side as he slept.
The kitchen helpers went to their quarters and barred
the door. Everyone else went upstairs.
Gerin made sure the sun was well up—which meant
full Elleb and Nothos would be well down—before he
went downstairs the next morning. Even then, he went
not only armed but ready to beat a hasty retreat.
He found Marlanz Raw-Meat back in fully human
form, and just sitting up in the rushes, looking mightily
confused at how he'd got there and even more confused
at the pile of well-gnawed pig bones beside him. "How
strong do you brew your ale, lord prince?" he asked
'Tunny, though—it must have been a mighty carouse,
but my head doesn't hurt"
"It wasn't ale—it was the moons," Gerin answered,
and explained what had happened the night before.
Marlanz stared, then slowly nodded and got to his
feet "I'm told the same fit came over me, only stronger,
at the great werenight five years gone by. I remember
nothing of that night, either."
Van came downstairs then, also armed. He grunted
in relief to see Marlanz without visible traces of

Prince of the North
381
lycanthropy, then said, "Shall we go down to the cellar
and see what your wereman's become?'
That required more explanations for Marlanz. When
they were through, Aragis' vassal pulled out his own sword
and said, "Let's slay the appalling creature."
"If we can get it out of die keep without fighting, I'll
be just as happy to do that," Gerin answered
Marlanz stared, then realized he meant what he said
"You are the lord here," he said, in tones that implied he
was willing to obey even if he wouldn't have gone about
things thus himself.
'Take a shield off the wall and carry some of those
bones of yours in it," Gerin told him. "Maybe they'll make
the thing in the cellar as happy as they made you—and
you didn't quite get all the meat off them."
Marlanz's stare turned reproachful, but he did as he
was asked Van said, "What if it's still a man down there?"
"We'll find him something else for breakfast," Gerin
replied, which had the virtue of making both his com-
panions shut up.
They went down to the cellar together. Gerin unbarred
the door and pushed it open. "Father Dyaus above,"
Marlanz said sofdy—a medium-sized black bear
sprawled on the dirt floor. The beast looked up at them
in absurd surprise.
It did not growl, nor did the hair on its back rise. It
didn't jump up and flee into the dark recesses of the
cellar, either. "What's wrong with it?" Van demanded, as
if he assumed Gerin would know.
And, for a wonder, Gerin did. "It's still got ale cours-
ing through it from last night. That was a good-sized
pitcher, and who knows when in man-shape it might
have finished?" He paused, then chuckled "I'm glad it's
a friendly drunk."
Luring the bear upstairs with bones proved easy,

382
Harry Turtledove
though it wobbled as it walked. "I still say we ought to
kill it," Marlanz grumbled as the gate crew let down the
drawbridge and the bear staggered off toward the for-
est.
4<We didn't try killing you last night," Gerin reminded
him.
"Lucky for you that you didn't," Marlanz said, draw-
ing himself up with prickly pride. Gerin agreed with him,
but wasn't about to admit it.

XI
The next night, only Tiwaz was full, with Elleb and
Nothos a day past and Math two. This time, Gerin sent
Marlanz Raw-Meat down to the cellar and locked Widin
Simrin's son in the shack where he worked on his mag-
ics. To his great relief, neither Marlanz nor Widin
changed shape, so he released them both when all four
moons had risen into the sky.
The bear that walked like a man did not return to the
camp of Aragis' warriors, either in man's form or its own.
Gerin had wondered if a taste for ale would draw it back.
"Just as well its staying away," said Drago, a Bear him-
self, when Gerin remarked on that. "We don't need a
thirsty bear when we have a thirsty Fox." He sent Rihwin
the Fox a sly look. Rihwin ostentatiously ignored him.
Late the next afternoon, Parol Chickpea came into
Fox Keep, riding in the back of a peasant's oxcart. "By
the gods, I'm glad to see you," Gerin exclaimed 'When
I left you behind there, I feared you'd never come out of
that village again."
"I feared it myself, lord, but I went were night before
last, and here, look at this." Parol thrust the hand from
which he'd lost a couple of fingers under Gerin's nose.
"I see what you mean," Gerin said The wound, instead
of being festering and full of pus, looked as if he'd had it
for years. The rapid healing werebeasts enjoyed hadn't
been able to restore his missing digits, but had done the
next best thing. Somehow, the Fox doubtedit would ever
become a popular part of medicine all the same.
"The bite on my arse is better, too," Parol said
383

384
Harry Turtledove
confidentially, "but I don't suppose you want to see that"
"As a matter of fact, you're right," Gerin said. "I wasn't
interested in your haiiy bum before you had a chunk
bitten out of it, and I'm not interested in it now, except
to see if it makes you sit at a tilt."
"It doesn't, by Dyaus!" Parol was the picture of indig-
nation till he noticed the smirk Gerin was trying to hide.
He laughed sheepishly. "Ah, you're having a joke on me."
"So I am." Gerin felt embarrassed; jokes at the expense
of Parol were too easy to be much fun. To make amends,
he told the warrior something about which he'd just made
up his own mind: "Now that we've passed through the
little werenight, we'll start the move against Adiatunnus
and the monsters come sunrise tomorrow."
Parol beamed "Ah, that's very fine, lord I owe those
horrible creatures something special for all they've done
to me, and I aim to give it to them."
"Stout fellow!" Gerin said. Parol was not the best fight-
ing man he had, lacking both Rihwin's grace and clever-
ness on the one hand and Drago the Bear's indomitable
strength on the other. But he was not in the habit of
backing away from trouble, and that covered a multi-
tude of sins.
The tents in which Aragis' men had passed the nights
since they reached Fox Keep came down. The warriors
stored most of them inside the keep, bringing along only
a few in which they could crowd together in case of rain.
Gerin was less worried about Aragis' men coming into
Fox Keep than he had been when they first arrived Not
only had the grand duke shown he didn't intend treach-
ery, but enough of Gerin's troopers had come into the
area to put up a solid fight if Aragis suddenly changed
his mind. The force that rolled southwest against
Adiatunnus and the monsters had more of Gerin's men
in it than Aragis'.

Prince of the North
385
Leaving Fox Keep stirred mixed feelings in Gerin:
hope that this fight, unlike the ones that had gone before,
would yield decisive results; sorrow at leaving Selatre
behind; and a separate mixture over Duren: sorrow at
leaving him, too, but also joy that he was there to be left
Aragis brought his chariot up alongside the Foxs. "You
have a good holding here," he said. "Plenty of timber,
streams where you need them, well-tended fields—you
must get a lot of work out of your peasants."
Gerin didn't care for the way Aragis said that it brought
to his mind a picture of nobles standing over serfs with
whips to make them sow and weed and harvest. Maybe
such things happened on Aragis' land—he had a repu-
tation for ruthlessness. The Fox said, "They work for
themselves, as much as they can. I don't take a certain
proportion of what they raise, whether that's a lot or a
little. I take a fixed amount, and they keep whatever they
produce above that"
"All very well in good years," Aragis answered, "but
what of the bad ones, when they don't bring in enough
to get by after you've gathered your fixed amount?"
'Then we dicker, of course," Gerin said. "If my serfs
all starve giving me this year's dues, I'm not likely to get
much out of them next year."
Aragis thought that over, then saw the joke and
laughed. "I don't dicker with peasants," he said. "I tell
them how it's going to be, and that's how it is. As you say,
starving them is wasteful, but I always remember I come
first."
"I believe that, grand duke," Gerin said, so innocently
that Aragis again paused for a moment before sending
him a sharp look Smiling inside, Gerin went on, "I haven't
had a peasant revolt since I took over this holding, and
we've been through some lean years, especially the one
right after the werenight. How have you fared there ^

386	Harry Turtledove
"Not well," Aragis admitted, but his tone made that
seem unimportant. "When the peasants rise up, we knock
them down. They can't stand against us, and they know
it They've no weapons to speak of, and no experience
fighting, either."
"But if they're going to fight the monsters, they'll need
more weapons than they have, and if they spend a good
deal of time fighting the monsters, they'll get some
experience at that, too," Gerin said.
Aragis gave him a look that said he hadn't thought so
far ahead, and wished the Fox hadn't, either. After a long
silence, he answered, "You must be of the view that solv-
ing one problem always breeds another."
"Oh, not always," Gerin said blithely. "Sometimes it
breeds two or three."
Aragis opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again,
and finally shook his head without speaking. He tapped
his driver on the shoulder. Gerin was not surprised when
the grand duke's chariot dropped back behind his own.
Van laughed a little and said, "Here you went to all the
trouble of making an ally of the Archer, and nowyou do
your best to drive him away."
"I didn't mean to," Gerin said. He sounded so much
like Duren after he'd dropped a pot and broken it that
he started to laugh at himself.
When the dirt road went through the woods, it nar-
rowed so that the chariots had to string themselves out
single file. It was wider in the cleared lands between the
forests; the cars bunched up again there.
The peasants working the fields paused to stare as
the chariots rolled by. Some of them cheered and
waved. Gerin wondered what Aragis thought of that.
From all he'd said, and from all the Fox had heard,
he ruled his serfs by force. He was a hard and able
man, so he'd got away with it thus far, but was his

Prince of the North
387
heir likely to match him? Only time would answer
that
Gerin noted that a fair number of peasants cultivated
their wheat and barley and beans and peas and turnips
and squashes with full quivers on their backs. As one of
them moved down a row, he bent, picked up his bow,
carried it along with him, and then set it down again.
Herdsmen also carried bows, and spears in place of their
staves. What they could do against the monsters, they
were doing. But an unarmored man, even with a spear
in his hands, was not a good bet against the speed and
cleverness the creatures showed.
The Fox saw only one monster that first day of the
ride southwest The thing came out of the woods a couple
of furlongs ahead of his chariot. It stared at the great
host of chariotry rattling its way, then turned and swifdy
vanished back between the beeches from which it had
emerged.
"Shall we hunt it, Captain?" Van asked
Gerin shook his head. 'We'd be wasting our time. If
we can beat Adiatunnus, we'll take their refuge away
from the creatures. That'll do us far more good over the
long haul than picking them off one and two at a time."
"Sometimes you think so straight, you cook all the
juice out of life," Van said, but let it go at that
As sunset neared, Gerin bought a sheep from a village
through which he passed That provoked fresh bemuse-
ment from Aragis, who, like a large majority of lords, was
accustomed to taking what he needed from his serfs
regardless of whether it was properly part of his feudal
dues. The grand duke also seemed surprised when the
Fox told some of his warriors to cut firewood rather than
taking it from the serfs or putting them to work. But he
did not question Gerin about it and, indeed, after a few
minutes ordered his own men to help those of his ally.

With all four moons now past full, the early hours of
the night were unusually dark. Although the evening was
warm and sultry, Gerin ordered the fires kept burning
brightly. 'The last thing I want is for the monsters to
take us unawares," he said, after which he got no argu-
ments.
The dancing flames kept more men sitting around
them and talking than would have happened on most
nights. After a while, Drago the Bear turned to Van and
said, 'What about a tale for us, to make the time pass
by?" To several of Aragis' men sitting close to him, he
added, "You1Ve never heard a yarnspinner to match him,
I promise you."
"Aye, give us a tale, then," one of those troopers said
eagerly, and in a moment many more—and many of
Gerin's men as well—took up the cry.
Van got to his feet with a show of shyness Gerin knew
to be assumed. The outlander said, "I hate to tell a tale
now, friends, for after Drago s spoken of me so, how can
I help but disappoint?"
"You never have yet," one of Gerin's men called. "Give
us a tale of far places—you mustve seen more of em
than any man alive."
"A tale of far places?" Van said. "All right, I'll give you
another story of Mabalal, the hot country where fhey
teach the monkeys to gather pepper for em—some of
you will remember my tale about that. But this is a dif-
ferent yarn; you might call it the tale of the mountain
snake, even though its really about the snake's head, as
you'll see.
"Now, they have all manner of snakes in Mabalal. The
plains snake, if you'll believe it, is so big that he even
hunts elephants now and again; the only time the natives
go after him is when he's fighting one of those huge
beasts."

Prince of the North
389
"What's an elephant?' somebody asked Gerin knew
about elephants, but had his doubts about serpents big
enough to hunt them—although he'd never managed
to catch his friend in a lie about his travels. After Van
explained, the warrior who'd asked the question was
loudly dubious about the elephant's snaky trunk, though
Gerin knew that was a genuine part of its anatomy.
'Well, never mind" the outlander said 'This stoiy's
not about elephants or plains snakes, anyhow Like I said
it's about mountain snakes. Mountain snakes, now, aren't
as big as their cousins of the plain, but they're impres-
sive beasts, too. They have a fringe of golden scales under
their chins that looks like a beard, and a crest of pointed
red scales down the back of their necks almost like a
horse's mane. When they're burrowing in the mountains,
the sound their scales make reminds you of bronze blades
clashing against each other."
"Are they venomous?' Gerin asked unlike most if
not all of his companions, he was in part interested in
Van's stories for their natural—or perhaps unnatural—
history.
"I should say they are!" Van answered. "But that's not
why the men of Mabalal hunt them—in fact, it'd be a
good reason to leave 'em alone. The snakes sometimes
grow these multicolored stones in their heads, the way
oysters grow pearls, but these stones are supposed to
make you invisible. That's what they say in Mabalal, any-
how.
"There was this wizard there, a chap named
Marabananda, who wanted a snakestone and needed
an axeman to help him get it He hired me, mostly on
account of I'm bigger'n any three Mabalali you could
find.
"Marabananda wove gold letters into a scarlet cloth
and cast a spell of sleep over them. Then he carried the

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Harry Turtledove
cloth out to one of the mountain snakes' nests. The snake
heard him coming—or smelled him, or did whatever
snakes do—and stuck its head out to see what was going
on. He held the cloth in front of it, and as soon as the
mountain snake looked, it was caught—snakes can't
blink, you know, so it couldn't get free of the spell even
for a moment
"Down came my axe! Off flew the head! The snake's
body, back in its burrow, jerked and twisted so much
that the ground shook, just like the earthquake that
knocked down the temple at Ikos. And Marabananda,
he got out his knives and cut into the head—and damn
me to the five hells if he didn't pull out one of those
shiny, glowing snakestones I was telling you about
" Tm rich!' he yells, capering around like a madman.
Tm rich! I can walk into the king's treasure house and
carry away all the gold and silver and jewels I please,
and no one will see me. I'm rich!'
" 'Uh, lord wizard, sir,' says I, you're holding the stone
now, and I can still see you.'
'Well, Marabananda says this is on account of I'm
just a dirty foreigner, and too unenlightened for wizardry
to touch. But the Mabalali, he says, they're more spiri-
tually sensitive, and so the magic will work on them. He
wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell him different
But I did talk him into not trying till dead of night, in
case he was wrong.
"Around midnight, off he went. He would have had
me come with him, but I'd already shown the magic
didn't work on me. He got to the treasure, and—" Van
paused for dramatic effect
'What happened?" half a dozen people demanded in
the same breath.
The outlander bellowed laughter. "Poor damned fool,
the first guard who spied him going in where he didn't

Prince of the North	391
belong struck off his head, same as I did with the moun-
tain snake. I guess it goes to show the snakestone not
only didn't make old Marabananda invisible to the guard,
it let the guard see something even the wizard couldn't."
"What's that?" Gerin got the question in before any-
one else could.
'Why, that he was a blockhead, of course," Van replied
'When he didn't come back from his litde trip after a bit,
I figured it had gone sour for him and I got out of there
before the royal guardsmen came around with a pile of
questions I couldn't answer. I don't know what happened
to the mountain snake's head after that Just like life,
stories don't always have neat, tidy endings."
By the way the warriors clapped their hands and came
up to chatter with Van, they liked the story fine, neat,
tidy ending or no. Aragis told him, "If ever you find life
dull at Fox Keep, you can stay at my holding for as long
as you like, on the strength of your tales alone." When
Van laughed and shook his head, the grand duke per-
sisted, "Or if you decide you can't stomach staying with
your Trokme-tempered ladylove another moment, the
same holds good."
"Ah, Archer, now you really tempt me," Van said, but
he was still laughing.
"I'm for my blankets," Gerin said. "Any man with a
dram of sense will do likewise. We may be fighting
tomorrow, and we will be fighting the day after."
Off in the distance, a longtooth roared. Some of the
horses tethered to stakes and to low-hanging branches
snorted nervously; that sound was meant to instill fear.
It had made Gerin afraid many times in the past Now,
though, he found it oddly reassuring It was part of the
nighthe'dknown all his life. The monsters' higher, more
savage screeches he found far more terrifying.
^ ^

392
Harry Turtledove
Morning came all too soon, as it has a way of doing.
The sun shining in Gerin's face made him sit up and try
to knuckle sleep from his eyes. Where all four moons
had been absent at sunset, now they hung like pale lamps
in the western sky. Soon they would draw apart again,
and Gerin would be able to stop worrying about their
phases for a while—although he promised himself he'd
check their predicted motions in the book of tables from
time to time.
Drivers gulped hasty breakfasts of hard-baked bis-
cuits, smoked meat, and crumbly white cheese, then hur-
ried to harness their horses to their chariots. The war-
riors who rode with them, generally older men of higher
rank, finished their breakfasts while the drivers worked.
The food was no better, but time could be a luxury, too.
As soon as the chariots rolled out of Gerin's land into
the debatable ground south and west of his holding, the
troopers saw more and more monsters. The monsters
saw them, too; their hideous howls split the air. The Fox
wondered if they were warning their fellows—and
Adiatunnus' men.
In the debatable lands between Gerin's holding and
the territory Adiatunnus had taken for himself when the
Trokmoi swarmed over the Niffet, brush and shrubs and
saplings grew close to the road. The barons who'd owned
that land before had been less careful of it than the Fox
had with his. Now most of them were dead or fled. Gerin
claimed much of their holdings, but the woodsrunners
made his possession too uncertain for him to send woods-
men onto it
The first arrows came from the cover of the road-
side scrub a little past noon. One hummed past his head,
close enough to make him start. He snatched up his
shield and moved up in the car so he could hope to
protect himself and Raffo both. "Keep going," he told

Prince of the North
393
the driver, and waved the rest of the chariots on as well.
"What?" Van said indignantly. "Aren't you going to stop
and hunt down those cowardly sneaks who shoot with-
out showing their faces?"
"No," Gerin answered, his voice flat. The unadorned
word made Van gape and splutter, as he'd thought it
would When the outlander fell silent, the Fox explained
"I am not going to slow down in any way, shape, form,
color, or size, not for monsters, not for Trokmoi. That's
what Adiatunnus wants me to do, so he'll have more
time to ready himself against us. I don't aim to give it to
him."
"It's not manly, ignoring an enemy who's shooting at
you," Van grumbled
"I don't care," Gerin said which set Van spluttering
again despite their years of friendship. Gerin went on, "I
am not fighting this war to be manly. I'm not even fight-
ing it for loot, though anything I take from the Trokmoi
helps me and hurts them. The only reason I'm fighting
it is because I'll have to do it later and on worse terms if
I don't do it now. Fighting it now means moving as fast
as we can. We weren't quite quick enough the last time
we struck at Adiatunnus. This time, the gods willing, we
will be."
Van studied him some time in silence. At last the out-
lander said, "Me, I've heard you call Aragis the Archer
ruthless a time or three. If he wanted to hang the same
name on you, I think it'd fit"
"And what does that have to do with unstoppering
the jar of ale?" Gerin asked. "I do what I have to do, the
best way I can see to do it You'd better pass up the little
fight if you intend to win the big one."
'Tut that way, it sounds good enough," Van admitted.
He still looked unhappy, like a man forced to go against
his better judgment "When somebody shoots at me,

394
Harry Turtledove
though, I just want to jump down from the car, chase
him till I catch him, and leave him as pickings for the
crows and the foxes—no offense to you—and the flies."
"Thats what the Trokmoi want us to do," Gerin
answered patiently. "When you fight a war, youre better
off not doing what your foe has in mind for you."
"You'll have your way here with me or without me,"
Van said, but then relented enough to add, "So you know,
Captain, you have it with me—I suppose."
With that Gerin had to be content By the time his
army drew out of range of the archers, they'd had two
horses and one man wounded, by luck none of them
badly A small enough price to pay for avoiding delay, he
thought, relieved it was not worse.
He kept the chariots rolling almost up to the moment
of sunset before stopping and sacrificing some of the
hens he'd brought from Fox Keep. "Adiatunnus may
know we're coming," he said, "but with luck he doesn't
know we'll be in his lands so soon. We should start hit-
ting him early tomorrow; we've made fine time coming
down from my keep."
When the sun set, the night was very dark, for none
of the moons would rise for more than two hours. That
stretch of evening blackness would just grow over the
next several days, too, till swift-moving Tiwaz sped round
to the other side of the sun and began to illuminate the
night once more. It worried Gerin. Because of the ghosts,
his men could do little in the night, but he'd already
seen that that did not hold for the monsters.
He took such precautions ashe could, posting sentry
squadrons all around the main area where his men and
Aragis' rested. The Archer's troopers were inclined to
complain about having their sleep interrupted. Gerin
stared them down, saying, "When my warriors come
south to your lands, we'll be under the grand duke's

Prince of the North
395
commands, and he'll make the arrangements he thinks
best. Now the worries are mine, and I'll meet them in
my own way."
He did not look to Aragis for support; this too was his
wony. Had the Archer chosen to argue with him, he'd
been ready to lose his temper in as spectacularly dra-
matic a way as he could. When he was through dealing
with the grand duke's men, though, Aragis got up and
said, 'The prince of the north is right—he leads here.
Anyone who doesn't fancy that will answer to him here
and then to me after we go south." Out went the sen-
tries without another word.
Gerin bundled himself in his bedroll and soon fell
asleep. What seemed like moments later, shouts of alarm
rang out from the sentries, and mixed with them the
monsters' screams. The Fox had his helm on his head,
his shield on his arm, and his sword in his hand and was
on his feet and running toward the fighting before he
fully understood where he was.
As soon as the situation did sink in, Gerin realized
whoever led the monsters—whether that was Adiatunnus
or some of the more clever creatures—knew how best
to use them. Instead of attacking the troopers, who were
armed and at least partly armored and could fight back,
the monsters turned their fury on the long lines of teth-
ered horses.
There dreadful din and chaos reigned. The horses
screamed and kicked and bucked under the savage teeth
and claws of their attackers. Some of them tore loose
the lines by which they were tethered and ran off into
the night. Every one that got away would have to be
recaptured later—if Gerin and his men could manage
that. At the same time, though, every horse that fled drew
monsters away from the main point of the assault, which
left the Fox unsure how to feel about the flight

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Harry Turtledove
He had little time for feeling, anyhow—nothing to do
but slash and hack and keep his shield up to hold fangs
away from flesh and pray that in the darkness and con-
fusion he didn't hurt any of his own men, or Aragis'. The
fear-maddened horses were as appalled to have men close
by them as monsters. Someone not far from Gerin went
down with a muffled groan as a hoof caught him in the
midsection.
He stabbed a monster that was scrambling up onto a
horse's back—and leaving long, bleeding claw tracks in
the beast's flanks. The monster howled and sprang at
him. He slashed it. It screamed in pain and fled. The
hot, coppery smell of its blood and the horse's filled his
nose.
Pale Nothos was the first moon over the eastern hori-
zon. By the time he rose, the warriors had managed to
drive the monsters back into the wood from which they'd
come. "Put more wood on the fire and start another one
over here," Gerin shouted. "We have a lot of work to do
yet tonight."
His army was still at it when Irwaz, Elleb, and Math
rose in a tight cluster a couple of hours after Nothos
appeared. The men went out by squads to bring back
the horses that had bolted, but that was the smaller part
of what they needed to do. Treating the animals'
wounds—and their panic—was a far bigger job. The
drivers, men who dealt most intimately with their teams,
did the greater part of the work. The rest of the troopers
lent what help they could.
"I mislike everything about this," Gerin said gloomily.
"Who knows what the beasts will do when they next face
the monsters, or even smell them?"
"I'd not yet thought past this night," Aragis said. "Did
we bring enough spare animals to make up for the ones
we lost and those hurt too badly to pull a car?"

Prince of the North
397
"I think so," the Fox answered; he'd been trying to
run his own mental count, but confusion didn't make it
easy. He looked at the hairy corpses scattered over the
grass. "We hurt the monsters badly here; I don't think
they'll try anything like that again. The question is, was
the once enough?"
"We'll know come morning." Aragis yawned. "I don't
know if we'll have any wits left by then, though. I'm dead
for sleep, and I'm for my blanket."
"And I," Gerin said with a matching yawn. "One more
thing for Adiatunnus to pay for—and he shall."
When the sun rose, Gerin stumbled over to a nearby
stream and splashed cold water on his face to give him-
self a brittle semblance of alertness. Then he examined
the horses the monsters had attacked. They looked worse
by daylight than they had in the night, with blood dried
on their coats and matted in their manes, with gashes
the drivers had missed by the light of moons and fires,
with mud slapped on the wounds the men had seen. He
wondered how they would fare when they had to draw
the chariots, but had no choice. He waved for the driv-
ers to harness them.
Because the animals were sore and nervous, that took
longer than it might have. But once they were hitched
to the chariots, they pulled them willingly enough. Van
drew a clay flute from a pouch on his belt and began a
mournful, wailing tune that sounded as if it had come
off the plains of Shanda. He assumed an expression of
injured dignity when Gerin asked him to put the flute
away for fear of fiightening the horses.
The border post Adiatunnus had set up in imitation
of Elabonian practice was empty and deserted; he must
have got wind that Gerin was moving against him.
"We move straight on," the Fox commanded. "No
stopping for loot anywhere. Until we run up against

398
Harry Turtledove
Adiatunnus' main force and smash it, we haven't accom-
plished a thing."
But when the army came to a peasant village, Aragis
ordered his chariots out of the road to trample the wheat
and barley growing in the fields around it. After a
moment's hesitation, Gerin waved for his warriors to join
the Archer's. "I hate to hurt the serfs," he said, "but if I
strike a blow at the Trokmoi thereby, how can I keep
from doing it?"
"You can't, so don't fret yourself," Van answered "You
go to war to win; you said as much yourself. Otherwise
you're a fool."
The peasants themselves had vanished, alongwith most
of their livestock. The army took a few chickens and a
half-grown pig, set fire to the serfs' huts, and rolled on.
Perhaps the next village they came to had planted ear-
lier than the first; the wheat and rye growing around it
had already turned golden. That meant the crops were
nearing ripeness. It also meant they would burn. The
warriors tossed torches into the fields near the road,
watched flames lick across them. The serfs would have a
hungry winter. Gerin vowed to himself to work enough
destruction in Adiatunnus' holding to make their Trokme
masters starve, too.
Every now and then, a red-mustached barbarian
would peer out of the woods at the invaders. Gerin
ignored those watchers; every man afoot was one he
wouldn't have to face in a chariot. "I want to reach
Adiatunnus before the sun sets," he said grimly. "Spend-
ing a night in his lands with the monsters prowling about
sets my teeth on edge."
"Ah, but Captain, does he want you to reach him?"
Van said. "You ask me, that's a different question alto-
gether. If he can get the monsters to come out and soften
us up again, you think he won't do it?"

Prince of the North
399
"No, I don't think that," Gerin said. "But he pays a
price if he hangs back, too. The deeper we penetrate
into his lands, the more harm we do him, and the hun-
grier his warriors and serfs will be come winter. Its a
nice calculation he has to make: can he afford what we
will do to him for the sake of what the monsters might
do to us tonight?"
"You think he'll weigh the odds so—this much on this
side, that much on the other?" Van shook his head vehe-
mendy. "That's what you'd do, certain sure. But
Adiatunnus, he'll be watching the sky. As soon as he sees
so much smoke there that his fighters start screaming at
him louder than he can stand, he'll yell for them to jump
into their chariots and come at you. Whether that's today
or tomorrow morning we won't know till we see the
woodsrunners drawn up in a meadow athwart our path."
"Or, better yet, till we catch them trying to get across
our path," the Fox said with a ferocious smile. "But you're
likely right; if you try to judge what the other fellow would
do by what you'd do yourself, you'll be wrong a lot of the
time."
The army moved past the small keep Gerin had
burned out in his earlier raid. The casde at the keep's
heart had burned; the roof was fallen in, and soot cov-
ered the outer stonework. No one moved on the walls.
Gerin grinned again. He'd struck Adiatunnus a blow
there.
To his surprise, the Trokme chieftain did not sally
forth against him while the sun remained in the sky.
He'd pushed close to the keep Adiatunnus had taken
for his own and to the woodsrunners' village that had
grown up around it by the time failing light at last made
him halt. Behind him, all the way back to the border of
Adiatunnus' lands, lay as broad a swath of devastation
as the Fox could cut Germ s eyes were red with the

400
Harry Turtledove
smoke he'd raised; his lungs stung every time he
breathed
When he encamped he treated the horses as if they
were pure gold come to life. He placed them and the
chariots in the center of the camp, with the warriors in a
ring around them and sentries out beyond the main force.
That meant spreading his men thinner than he would
have liked but he saw no other choice. Without chariotiy,
what good were the warriors? The Trokmoi would ride
circles around them.
Rihwin the Fox said, 'The first of the moons will not
rise tonight until even longer after sunset than was so
yestereven."
"I know," Gerin said dolefully. "And the other three,
moving more swiftly in their rounds than Nothos, will
have gone farther still and will rise later still." He pro-
nounced the words with a certain amount of gloomy
relish; every now and then, he drew perverse enjoyment
from imagining just how bad things could be.
Few men sought their blankets right after they ate.
No one put weapons out of arm's reach. After one attack
on the horses, another looked too likely to take lightly
Twilight still lingered in the western sky when, in the
black shadows of the woods, a monster screamed. War-
riors who had tried to sleep snatched up swords and
shields and peered about wildly, waiting for a sentry or
perhaps a horse to cry out in agony.
Another monster shrieked, and another, and another.
Soon what sounded like thousands of the creatures were
crying out together in a chorus that sent icy fingers of
dread running up Gerins back. "Damn me to the five
hells if I see any way to sleep through this," he said to
Van, "not when I'm already on edge looking ahead to
battle tomorrow."
"Ah, it's not so bad Captain," the outlander said When

Prince of the North
401
Gerin stared at him in some surprise, he explained, "I
don't care how loud they scream at us. Last night, we
taught 'em something they hadn't known before, else
they'd be running out of the woods at us with slobber
dripping off their fangs. Now with all the moons down'd
be the best time for em to try. Me, 1 think they don't
dare. They're just trying to make us afraid."
Gerin considered All at once, the hellish cries seemed
less terrifying than they had. "You may well be right," he
said, and managed a laugh. 'They aren't doing a bad job
of it, either, are they?'
"It's nothing but a great pile of noise." Van refused to
admit fear to anyone, most likely including himself.
"We won't stop staying ready for a fight, whether you
turn out right or wrong," Gerin said. 'That's the best
way I know to make sure we don't have one."
The hideous chorus kept up all night long, and got
louder as the moons rose one by one. By then, though,
most of the troopers had concluded the monsters were
screaming to intimidate rather than as harbinger to an
attack. Those not on sentry did manage to drop off, and
their snores rose to rival the creatures' shrieks.
Gerin didn't remember when he dozed off, but he
woke with a start at sunrise, having expected to pass the
whole night awake. Most of the men were in the same
state, complaining of how little they'd slept but grateful
they'd slept at all. The horses seemed surprisingly fresh;
an attack like the one of the night before might have
panicked them, but they'd resigned themselves to the
monsters' screams faster than the warriors who guarded
them.
"Will we fight today?' Aragis asked rather blurrily; his
mouth was so full of smoked sausage that he looked like
nothing so much as a cow chewing its cud

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Harry Turtledove
"We will," Gerin said with grim certainty. "If we don't,
we penetrate to the heart of Adiatunnus' holding before
noon, and torch the big Trokme village that's grown up
around the keep he's taken for his own. He won't let that
happen; his own warriors would turn on him if he did"
'There you're right," Aragis said after a heroic swal-
low. "A leader who won't defend what's his doesn't deserve
to keep it. My men will be ready" Gerin had the feeling
the Archer primed his vassals for battle by making them
more afraid of him than of any imaginable foe, but in his
own savage way the grand duke got results.
Not half an hour after the chariots rolled out of camp,
they passed the meadow where Germ's forces and
Adiatunnus' had dueled fewer than fifty days before.
Some of the ruts the chariot wheels had cut were still
visible; grass had grown tall over others.
Gerin had wondered if the Trokme chieftain would
pick the same spot to defend his lands as he had in the
last fight When Adiatunnus didn't, the Fox's anxiety grew.
Fearing an ambush when the road went through the
next stand of woods, he dismounted several teams of
fighting men and sent them in among the trees to flush
out any lurking woodsrunners. That slowed the rest of
the army, and the searchers found no one.
Past that patch of forest, a broad stretch of clear land
opened up: meadows and fields that led to Adiatunnus'
keep, the Trokme village, and the meaner huts of the
Elabonian peasants who still grew most of the holding's
food. Mustered in front of them was a great swarm of
chariotry: Adiatunnus, awaiting the attack.
The Fox was lucky—he spotted the Trokmoi before
they spied his car in the shadow of the woods. He
ordered Raffo to a quick halt, then waved the chariots
of his force up as tight together as they could go with-
out fouling one another. "We'll need to be in line before

Prince of the North
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the woods-runners can sweep down on us," he said.
"The gods be praised, they don't look all that ready to
fight, either. My men will form to the left when we
burst out into the open, Aragis' to the right. I expect
we'll all be mixed together before the day is done—
that's just a way of keeping us straight when we start.
May fortune roll with us."
"May it be so," several troopers said together. Gerin
thumped Raffo on the shoulder. The driver flicked the
reins and sent the horses forward onto the meadow. A
great shout rose from the Trokmoi when they caught
sight of the chariot They swarmed forward in a great
irregular wave, hardly bothering to shake out into line of
battle in their eagerness to close with their enemies.
"Look at 'em come," Van said, hefting his spear. "If
we can get ourselves ready to receive 'em, we'll beat 'em
to bits, even with the monsters running between their
cars there."
'They don't care much for tactics, do they?" Gerin
said. "Well, I've known that a great many years now. The
trouble with them is, they have so much pluck that that's
too often what decides things."
He nocked an arrow and waited for the Trokmoi and
the monsters to come within range. Behind him, ever
more chariots rumbled out of the woods to form line of
batde. Each one drew fresh cries of rage from the
woodsrunners. Gerin saw he had more cars than the
woodsrunners did Whether they'd all be able to deploy
before the fight opened was another question.
When the Trokmoi closed to within a furlong, Gerin
waved his arm and shouted "Forward!" at the top of his
lungs. Chariots depended on mobility; if you tried to
stand to receive a charge, you'd be ridden down.
Raffo cracked the whip above the horses' backs. The
beasts bounded ahead A chariot wheel hit a rock. The

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Harry Turtledove
car jounced into the air, landed with a jarring thump.
Gerin grabbed the rail for a moment; his knees flexed to
take the shock of returning to earth.
He'd pulled all the way to the left, to be on the wing
of his own force. That also meant he was far away from
the track that led toward Adiatunnus' keep. The horses
galloped through ripening rye, trampling down a great
swath of grain under their hooves. The Fox's lips skinned
back from his teeth in a predatory grin. Every stride the
horses took meant more hunger for his foes.
An arrow hissed past his head. Adiatunnus' hunger
was distant, something that would come with winter. Had
that arrow flown a couple of palms' breadth straighter,
Gerin would never have worried about it or anything
else, again. Planning for the future was all very well, but
you had to remember the present, too.
Gerin loosed the shaft he'd nocked, snatched another
from his quiver, and set it to his bowstring. He shot once
more. The Trokmoi were packed so closely, the arrow
would almost surely do them some harm. He shot again
and again, half emptying his quiver as fast as he could.
The rest of the shafts he thriftily saved against more spe-
cific targets and urgent need.
His men had followed him on that wide sweep to the
left, encircling the Trokmoi on that wing. Had Aragis
taken the same course on the right, the woodsrunners
would have been in dire straits. But Gerin's deployment
order had left the Archer with fewer chariots there, and
he commanded that wing with a blunter philosophy of
battle than the Fox employed. Instead of seeking to sur-
round the enemy, he pitched straight into them. Some
of his men kept shooting at the Trokmoi, while others
laid about them at close quarters with sword and axe
and mace.
A monster ran at the chariot in which Gerin rode. It

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405
came at the horses rather than the men, and from the
right side, where Van with his spear had less reach than
the Fox with his bow. But the creature reckoned with-
out Raffo. The drivers long lash flicked out The mon-
ster howled and clutched at its face. Raffo steered the
car right past it. Van thrust his spear into the monsters
vitals, yanked it free with a killing twist. The monster
crumpled to the ground and lay kicking.
A Trokme driver whipped his team straight for the
Fox. His car bore two archers, both of whom let fly at
almost the same time. One arrow glanced from the side
of Vans helmet, the other flew between the outlander
and Gerin.
Gerin shot at one of the archers. His shaft also failed
to go just where he'd intended it, but it caught the Trokme
driver in the throat The reins fell from his fingers; he
slumped forward over the front rail of the car. The team
ran wild. Both of the archers grabbed for the reins. They
were past before Gerin saw whether either one man-
aged to seize them.
'Well aimed, Fox!" Van cried.
"It didn't do what I wanted it to do," Gerin answered.
Uncomfortable with praise, he used bitter honesty to
turn it aside, like a man trying to avert an omen he didn't
care for.
"Honh!" Van said. "It did what it needed to do, which
is what matters." That left Gerin no room for argument
His hopes built as the battle ground on. The Trokmoi
were ferocious, but not all the ferocity in the world could
make up for a bad position—and, this time, he'd brought
more men into the fight than Adiatunnus had. The mon-
sters helped even the odds, but not enough.
He spied the Trokme chieftain, not far away. "Well,
you robber, you asked what I'd do next," he shouted.
"Now you see."

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Harry Turtledove
Adiatunnus shook a fist at him. 'To the corbies with
you, you black-hearted omadhaun. You'll pay for this."
He reached for his quiver, but found he was out of
arrows.
Gerin jeered at him. He pulled out a carefully
husbanded shaft, set it to his bow, and let fly. Adiatunnus
realized he had no time to grab for his shield, so he threw
up his arms. The arrow caught him in the meaty part of
his right upper arm, about halfway between elbow and
shoulder. He let out a howl any monster would have
envied. The wound wasn't fatal, probably wasn't even
crippling, but he would fight no more today.
Van swatted Gerin on the back, almost hard enough
to pitch him out of the chariot onto his head. "Well
aimed!" the outlander boomed again.
And again, the Fox did what he could to downplay
praise. "If that had been well aimed, it would have killed
him," he grumbled
The Trokmoi tried to slam through Aragis' men. Had
they succeeded, they'd have regained their freedom of
movement But Aragis' chariots were grouped more
tighdy than Germ's, and the woodsrunners could not
force a breakout When they failed, they began falling
back toward the cover of their village.
"We'll roast 'em like mutton!" Aragis' fierce, exultant
cry rang over the battlefield, though the Trokmoi still
fought back with fierce countercharges—they were
beaten, but far from broken.
Gerin waved several chariots with him, trying to get
between the Trokmoi and the haven they sought. Bad
luck dogged the effort. An arrow made one of the
Elabonian drivers drop the reins, and the horses, freed
from control, chose to run in just the wrong direction. A
pair of monsters sprang into another chariot; the mad
fight that ensued there kept the car from going as he'd

Prince of the North
407
hoped it would. He never did find out why a third car
failed to follow, but it did
That left him with ... not enough. The Trokmoi did
not have to slow down much to get around the handful
of chariots with which he tried to block their path, and
then he was the one in danger of being cut off and sur-
rounded. Cursing, he shouted to Raffo, "We cant go
back, so we'd best go on. Forward!"
Like an apple seed squeezed out from between thumb
and forefinger, the Fox and his followers fought their way
free from the far side of the fleeing Trokme force. Now he
was on the right wing of the attack, and most of his vassals
on the left. He'd foretold that things would get mixed up
in the fight; being of an uncommonly orderly turn of mind,
though, he hadn't expected the mixing to include himself.
He still had arrows left, and shot them at the retreat-
ing Trokmoi. Some of the woodsrunners had their cars
pounding down the narrow lanes between their homes.
"Uh-oh," Van said. "Are you sure we want to go after
'em in there, Fox?"
Whenever Van urged caution, he had to be taken
seriously "Looks like a good way to get chewed to bits,
doesn't it?" Gerin said after he'd taken a long look at the
situation.
"Doesn't it just?' Van agreed. 'We'll get a good many
of 'em, and do the rest real harm, if we set the place
afire. But going in there after the woodsrunners, you
ask me, that's putting your prong on the block for the
chopper."
Had Gerin been undecided before, the wince from
that figure of speech would have been plenty to make
up his mind. He waved his arms and shouted for his
men to hold up and ply the Trokme village with fire
arrows. A good many Trokmoi, though, were thunder-
ing into the village between him and his vassals, so only a

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Harry Turtledove
few of those vassals heard. And, while he was supposed
to be in command of Aragis' men as well, they ignored
him when he tried to keep them from pursuing the
Trokmoi.
"Now what, lord prince?" Raffo asked as the chariots
streamed past.
Gerin looked at Van. The outlander s broad shoul-
ders lifted in a shrug. The Fox scowled. The only thing
he could do that would let him keep his prestige among
the Elabonian warriors was also the thing he'd just dis-
missed as stupid. "Go on," he shouted to Raffo. "If that's
where the fight is, that's where we have to go."
"Aye, lord prince," Raffo said, and cracked the whip
over the horses' backs.
It was as bad as Van had predicted, as bad as Gerin
had thought it would be. Foundered chariots blocked
several of the village lanes, robbing the Fox's force of
mobility, the essence of chariotry. Some of the Trokmoi
fought afoot, side by side with the monsters. Other men
ran into the houses and shot arrows at the Elabonians
from windows and doors, ducking back into cover after
they'd shot
And quite as fierce as the men were the Trokme
women. It was like fighting dozens of berserk Fands.
They screamed and shouted. Under their pale, freckled
skins, their faces turned crimson with fury and the veins
stood out like cords on their necks and foreheads. Some
threw stones; others used bows and swords like their
men. They weren't merely unnerving; they were deadly
dangerous.
"Back, curse it! Back and out!" Gerin shouted, again
and again. 'We'll throw everything away if we get stuck
in this kind of fighting. Out and back!"
Little by little, his men and Aragis' began to heed him.
But pulling out of the battle was harder than getting into

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409
it had been. Turning a chariot around in the crowded,
bloody alleyways of the village was anything but easy;
too often, it was next to impossible. Gerin wondered if
going forward would have cost less than the withdrawal
did.
A lot of the chariots had lost the firepots with which
they d begun the days fighting. Still, before long, fire
arrows sent trails of smoke through the air as they arced
toward the thatched roofs of the Trokme cottages. The
weather had been dry. Before long, the straw on the
roofs was blazing.
More chariots rampaged through the fields outside
the village, wrecking the crops that still stood after the
battle had gone through them. Through thickening
smoke, Gerin saw Trokmoi fleeing into Adiatunnus' keep.
"Do you aim to lay siege to 'em?" Aragis the Archer
asked The grand duke's helmet was dented, maybe by a
stone. The edge of the helm had cut him above one eye;
when he healed, he'd have a scar like Gerin's.
'We can't take the keep by storm, however much I
wish we could," Gerin answered "We don't have the
numbers, we don't have the ladders, and they'd be fight-
ing for their lives. We can't starve them out, either.
Adiatunnus will have more in his storerooms and cellars
than we can draw from the countryside. We can send in
fire arrows and hope to start a big blaze, but that's just a
matter of luck."
"Aye, but we should try it," Aragis said. Nonetheless,
he showed relief that Gerin did not intend to linger in
Adiatunnus' country.
The Fox understood that. "You'll want to campaign
against the monsters in your own lands as soon as may
be, won't you?"
"As a matter of fact, that's just what's in my mind,"
Aragis said "Harvest won't wait forever, and I'd like the

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Harry Turtledove
woods cleared of those creatures before then ... if that
can be done. I'd not care to harm your campaign by
pulling back from here too soon, but—•"
But I mill, if you don't pull back on your own hook
soon enough to suit me. Aragis didn't say it—Gerin gave
him credit for being a good ally, a better one than the
Fox had expected—but he thought it very loudly.
"If it suits you, we'll spend the rest of the afternoon
lobbing fire arrows into the keep in the hope of sending
it all up in smoke, and then—then we'll withdraw," Gerin
said. "We'll ravage more of Adiatunnus' lands as we go.
By your leave, we'll stop at Fox Keep for a few days, to
let me set up the defenses of my own holding while I'm
in the south, and then I'll meet my end of the bargain."
"Couldn't ask for fairer than that," Aragis said, though
his eyes argued that any departure later than yesterday,
or perhaps the day before, was too late. But again, he
held his peace; he recognized necessity, and recognized
that against it any man struggled in vain.
The charioteers rode rings around Adiatunnus' keep,
howling and shouting louder than the Trokmoi on the
walls as they sent more fire arrows smoking through the
air. Up on die walls of the keep with the woodsrunners
were several monsters. Gerin hoped they and the
Trokmoi would quarrel in the tight quarters, but had no
way to make that happen.
Two or three times, thin columns of black smoke rose
from within the keep. Whenever they did, Gerin's men,
and Aragis' too, cheered themselves hoarse. But each
time, the smoke thinned, paled, died. At last, as the sun
sank ever lower in the west, the Fox called off the attack.
He and his followers drew off toward the northeast, back
in the direction from which they had come.
Wounded horses and men and monsters still thrashed
and groaned and screamed on the battlefield. Now and

Prince of the North
411
again, an Elabonian chariot would halt so its crew could
cut the throat of a horse or a monster or a Trokme, or so
the troopers could haul an injured comrade into their
car and do for him what they could once they stopped to
camp. Some of the injured cried out louder in the jounc-
ing chariots than they had lying on the ground. Their
moans made Gerin grind his teeth, but all he could do
was keep on.
"One thing," Van said as they entered the woods from
which they d emerged to fight "we won t have to offer
much in the way of sacrifice to the ghosts tonight."
"That's so," Gerin agreed. "We gave them blood
aplenty today. They'll buzz round the bodies the whole
night long, like so many great carrion flies round a car-
cass—gloating, I suppose, that all those brave men joined
their cold and gloomy world"
The chariots came out of the woods bare minutes
before sunset Gerin led them out into the middle of a
broad meadow. "We stop here," he declared 'Van, I
leave it to you to get the first fire going." He told off
parties to go back to the forest and chop down enough
wood to keep the fires blazing all through the night.
Nothos would rise with a third of the night already passed,
and the other three moons later still.
That accomplished, the Fox turned his hand to giving
the wounded what help he could. As always in the after-
math of batde, he was reminded how pitifully little that
was. He splashed ale on cuts to help keep them from
going bad, set and splinted broken bones, sewed up a
few gaping gashes with thread of wool or sinew, ban-
daged men who had ignored their hurts in the heat of
action. None of what he did brought much immediate
relief from pain, although some of it, he made himself
remember, would do good in the long run.
More horses were hurt, too. He helped the drivers

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Harry Turtledove
doctor them when he was done with the men. The men,
at least, had some idea why they'd been hurt. The horses'
big brown eyes were full of uncomprehended suffering.
He didn't know who'd ordered it, but the men had
made the same sort of circle of fires they'd built the night
before. He chose warriors who'd slept through the pre-
vious night undisturbed for sentry duty, and made him-
self one of them. He was tired down to the marrow of
his bones, but so was eveiyone else.
"Did we win?" Van asked as he replaced the Fox for
midwatch. "Did we do all you wanted done?"
"Aye, we won," Gerin said, yawning. "Did we do
enough?" Yawning again, he shook his head and made
for his bedroll.
<fWait, Captain." Van called him back. The outlander
pointed to the woods, from which monsters were com-
ing forth.
Sentries' shouts roused the camp. Swearing, men
snatched at weapons and armor. Gerin found his sword
in his hand. It wasn't magic; he just didn't remember
drawing the weapon.
The monsters approached to the edge of bowshot,
but no closer. 'There aren't that many of them," Gerin
remarked as the creatures began a chorus of their dread-
ful shrieks. Shriek they did, but they made no move to
attack. After a while, the Fox said, "I think they're trying
to put us in fear, nothing else but. A plague on 'em, says
I. No matter how they scream, I'm going to get some
sleep." He raised his voice: "All save the sentries, rest
while you can. We'll have warning enough if they truly
aim to come after us."
He rolled himself up in his blanket The monsters'
hideous outcry kept him awake a little longer than he
would have been otherwise, but not much. Not even
Mavrix the god of wine appearing before him would have

Prince of the North
413
kept him awake for long, he thought as sleep swallowed
him.
He woke wondering why he'd worried about Mavrix,
but shook his head at the pointlessness of that: sleepy
minds did strange things, and there was no more to say
about it. The monsters were gone. That didn't surprise
him; with sunrise, the Elabonians could have started
shooting at them with good hopes of scoring hits.
Not all the warriors had been able to sleep. Some of
them shambled about as if barely alive. How they'd be
after another day in the chariot was something about
which the Fox tried not to think.
No help for it. After breaking their fast on hard bread
and sausage and ale, they rolled northeast, back toward
the Fox's holding. Knowing no large force lay directly
ahead of them, they spread out widely over the country-
side, doing as much damage to Adiatunnus' lands and
villages and crops as they could with fire and their horses'
hooves and the wheels of their chariots.
A victory, but not a perfect one. Gerin had hoped to
smash Adiatunnus utterly; he'd hurt the Trokme chief-
tain, literally and metaphorically, but not enough to seize
much of his territory with any assurance of keeping it
Maybe the monsters had learned not to attack large bands
of armed and armored men, but they hadn't been exter-
minated—and Adiatunnus' lands still gave them haven.
"Not enough," Gerin said under his breath. Van
glanced over to him, but did not venture to reply
Some of Gerin's vassals peeled off from the main force
as they reentered his tenitoiy, off to their own castles
and to protect their own villages. Most, though, stayed
on the road to Fox Keep. Before long, they'd be riding
south to help Aragis and fulfill Gerin's part of the bar-
gain.

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Harry Turtledove
He'd wondered if the serfs would ask him whether
he'd rid their villages of the monsters for good, and
dreaded having to tell them no. Then the army passed
through a village the creatures had attacked while he
was deep in Adiatunnus' territory. That made him feel
worse. He'd hurt the Trokmoi and the monsters, but
he'd been mad to think he could root them out with a
single victory
He also wondered how much he and his men would
accomplish down in the holding of Aragis the Archer.
He feared it would be less than Aragis hoped, but kept
that fear to himself. Whatever the grand duke's misgiv-
ings, he'd come north. The Fox saw no way to keep from
reciprocating, not if he wanted to keep his good name.
The return to Casde Fox was subdued. The victory
the army had won did not outweigh the men who would
not come back, the complete triumph that had eluded
the Elabonians.
Seeing Selatre again, squeezing her to him, was won-
derful, but she quickly sensed that, past having come
home alive and unhurt, Gerin had little to celebrate. That
made her shrink back into herself, so that she seemed to
stand aloof from the chaos in the stables although she
was in the middle of it
Van and Fand got into a screaming fight over what
business the outlander had had going off to fight the
Trokmoi. He clapped a hand to his forehead and bel-
lowed, "You tell me not to tangle with them when the
only reason you're here is that you stabbed the last
woodsrunner daft enough to take you into his bed?"
"Aye, I did that, and I had the right of it, too, for he
was of my own folk, for all that he was an evil-natured
spalpeen to boot," she said "But you, now, you're the
Fox's friend, but you're after being my lover. So you see!"
Van shook his head—he didn't see. Gerin didn't see,

Prince of the North
415
either. If being Fand's lover turned Van into some sort of
honorary Trokme, by her own argument that gave him a
special right to go to war against the woodsrunners. Fand
was seldom long on logic; the gods seemed to have given
her extra helpings of all the passions instead.
Duren hopped around, saying, "May I go fight too
next time, Father? May I, please?"
"Youre raising a warrior there," Aragis said approv-
ingly.
"So I am," Gerin answered. He wasn't altogether
pleased. Aye, any holding on the frontier—any holding
in the northlands—needed a warrior at its head. But he
hoped he would also be able to raise a civilized man, lest
barbarism seize all the land between the Niffet and the
Kirs and hold it for centuries to come.
The castle cooks dished out mutton and pork and
bread and ale. The warriors ate and sought their bed-
rolls. Gerin stayed down in the great hall, hashing over
the fight, till Duren fell asleep beside him. Then, as he
had a few nights before, he carried his son upstairs to his
bedchamber.
When he went back out into the hall, he found Selatre
waiting there. She said, "If you were so worn you'd gone
to bed with your son, I'd have walked back to my room,
but since you're not—"
He caught her to him. 'Thank you for being here
when things don't look as good as they might" Even as
he spoke the words, he realized he was doing his best to
put a good face on the campaign from which he'd just
returned. Things looked bloody awful.
Selatre ignored all that. She said, "Don't be foolish. If
you hadn't been there for me, I'd be dead. Come on."
She led him back to her chamber.
He took her with something approaching despera-
tion. He hoped she read it as passion, but she wasn't one

to be easily deceived That she stayed by him when he
needed her most was a greater gift than any other she
could have given him.
Afterwards, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
When he jerked awake, Nothos' light streamed through
the window, but not yet golden Maths: past midnight,
then, but not far past. Beside him, Selatre was also sit-
ting bolt upright.
"Something is amiss," she said. Her voice sent chills
through him. For the first time in many days, she sounded
like the Sibyl at Ikos, not the woman he'd come to love.
But no matter how she sounded, she was right. "I
heard it, too," Gerin said. He stopped, confused. "Heard
it? Felt it? Alls quiet now. But—" He got out of bed and
started to dress.
So did she. "I don't know what it was. I thought for a
moment Biton touched me." She shook her head. "I
was wrong, but it was more than a dream. I know that.
And if it woke you, too ..."
'We'd better find out what it was." Gerin held his
sword in his left hand. How much good the blade would
do against whatever had roused him and Selatre, he had
no idea, but it couldn't hurt
All seemed quiet in Fox Keep as he and Selatre tip-
toed down the hall to the stairs. Van's snores pierced the
door to Fand's chamber. Gerin smiled for a moment at
that, but his lips could not hold their upward curve. A
few warriors had fallen asleep in the great hall, maybe
too drunk to seek their proper beds. Gerin and Selatre
walked by. He looked this way and that, shook his head
in the same confusion Selatre had shown. Whatever was
wrong, it lay outside the casde proper. He didn't know
how he knew, but he did
Outside, sentries paced their rounds up on the pali-
sade. The courtyard seemed as still as the keep. Gerin

Prince of the North
417
began to wonder if worry and nerves hadn't played tricks
on Selatre and him at the same time. Then he heard
footfalls—slow, erratic footfalls—coming up from the
stables toward the entrance to the great hall.
"Stay here," he whispered to Selatre, but when he
trotted round to the side of the keep to see who—or
what—approached, she followed She was not so close
to him as to cramp him if he had to fight, so he bit down
his annoyance and kept quiet.
He rounded the corner and stopped dead with a
strangled snort of laughter. No wonder the footfalls had
been as they were: here came Rihwin, gloriously drunk.
Gerin wondered how Rihwin managed to keep up his
footfalls without falling himself. His face bore a look of
intense concentration, as if putting one foot in front of
the other took everything he had in him. It probably
did
Gerin turned to Selatre in mingled amusement and
disgust. '"We might as well go back to bed, if this poor
sot's the worst menace we can find."
"No. We stay," she said, again sounding like the Sibyl
she had been. "More is here than we yet know Can you
not feel it?"
And Gerin could: a prickling of the hairs at the nape
of his neck, a tightening of his belly, his mouth suddenly
dry as dust He'd felt like this in the instant when the
ground began to shake at Ikos, when his body gave alarm
but his mind hadn't yet realized why.
The ground wasn't shaking now, though he wouldn't
have bet Rihwin could have told whether that was so.
Nevertheless, the feeling of awe and dread built inside
Gerin till he wanted to run or scream or smash some-
thing just to get relief. He did none of those things. Forc-
ing himself to stillness, he waited for Rihwin's staggering
progress to bring his fellow Fox to him.

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Harry Turtledove
Rihwin was so intent on walking, he didn't notice Gerin
till he almost ran into him. "Lord pr-prince!" he said
thickly, and gave such a melodramatic start that he nearly
tumbled over backwards. "Mercy, lord prince!" he
gasped, and then hiccuped.
Now Gerin drew back a pace, his nose wrinkling.
'Teh!" he said. "Your breath stinks like a vineyard in press-
ing season."
"Mercy!" Rihwin repeated. He swayed as he stared
owlishly at his overlord; standing in one place seemed
about as hard for him as walking. His face was slack with
drink, but alarm glittered in his eyes.
Then Gerin looked through him instead of at him,
really hearing for the first time what he himself had said.
"You've been at the wine Schild brought us, haven't you,
my fellow Fox?" he asked softly. He'd let his sword trail
to the ground. Now it came up again, as if to let the wine
out of Rihwin.
"Mercy!" Rihwin squeaked for the third time. "I found
it buried in the hay when we brought our—hie!—horses
to the stables. I broached but two jars. Mer—hie!—cy!"
"That is it." Selatre's voice was firm and certain.
"That is what we felt: the power of Mavrix loosed in
this holding."
Gerin wanted to scream at Rihwin. Even in his fury,
though, he remembered the hour, remembered the war-
riors and women and cooks and servants asleep inside
Casde Fox. But although he hissed instead of shrieking,
his fury came through unabated: "You stupid, piggish
dolt. Thanks to your greed, thanks to the wine you're
going to piss away over the course of the next day, you've
made Mavrix notice us and given him a channel through
which he can enter this land—and he hates me. What
shall I do to you for that? How could Adiatunnus serve
me worse than you just did?"

Prince of the North
419
Tears ran down Rihwins cheeks; they glistened in
Nothos' pale light. "Lord prince, you're right," he
mumbled. "I don't know what came over me. I shaw—
saw—the jars there in the straw, and it as as conshu—
consuming fire blazed all through me. I had to drink, or
die." Even sozzled, he spoke with elaborate southern
phrasings.
'That's the fanciest way to call yourself a no-account,
worthless drunkard I ever heard," Gerin said in dis-
gust.
Selatre set a hand on his arm. She still used that ges-
ture seldom enough to command attention when she
did. "Wait," she said 'There may be more truth in what
he says than you hear. Perhaps Mavrix inflamed his soul,
as he put it, to open the way for the god to make his
presence felt in the northlands once more."
"It could be so, lord prince," Rihwin exclaimed eagerly.
'Though the lord of the sweet grape expunged all sor-
cerous ability from my spirit, he left intact my knowl-
edge."
"Not that you haven't tried to drown it in ale—and
now wine," Gerin snarled, still anything but appeased
"I deserve that." Rihwin's voice was full of drunken
earnestness. "But it is as your gracious lady said. Were
Mavrix to seek entry to your holding, I am just the
sort of insht—insh—instrument he would employ."
He smiled in triumph at finally forcing out the diffi-
cult word.
"All right, it could be so," Gerin said grudgingly. "Shall
I thank you for it? Great Dyaus above, I'm still trying to
figure out whether we can survive it. As I said as you
know, the god loves me not, nor you either."
Rihwin hung his head 'That is true."
The god has his purposes, and we have ours," Selatre
said "He will accomplish his come what may. We can't

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say the same, worse luck. What we have to seek is a way
in which the gods purposes are met, and ours as well,
and, having found it, coax him into accepting it"
Gerin looked at her gratefully. 'Tut that way, it might
almost be done." But in the back of his mind, he heard,
or thought he heard, the god laughing, laughing.

xn
Red-eyed andyawning, Gerin told the tale over break-
fast the next morning to those who had been lucky
enough not to sense the coming of Mavrix in the night
Beside him sat Selatre, also yawning. He was glad to
have her there, for without her confirmation he doubted
whether Aragis or Van, to say nothing of the rest, would
have believed him. But at the same time he worried, for
she sounded once more like Biton s Sibyl, not like his
woman. He shook his head, bemused Having lost Elise
to a horseleech, would he lose Selatre to a god?
Aragis snapped him out of his reverie. The grand duke
might not have been much for the long view, but he had
a supremely practical grasp of the moment "All right,
lord prince, Mavrix is here among us, whether we like it
or not," he said "What do we do about it? Can we turn
it to our own purposes?"
"I" —Gerin glanced at Selatre— "we, that is, think
we may have found a way" One reason he was red-eyed
was that he and Selatre had spent the last part of the
night talking overthatvery question. He sighed He didn't
like the answer they'd come up with. "We are going to
evoke the god, to bring him fully into the world here
and bargain with him."
"Are you daft, Fox?" Van burst out. "Mavrix, he hates
you. Bring him fully here and you just make it easier for
him to squash you flat"
'This is the course of which you spoke when we met
in the southern marches of your holding. A desperate
one,if youaskme," Aragis said Butpast that, he did not
421

422
Harry Turtledove
try to dissuade Gerin. Mavrix was not angry at him. And
if the Sithonian god of wine did destroy die Fox in some
lingering, interesting, and creative way, no one would
be better positioned to take advantage of it than the grand
duke.
Gerin tried to answer both men at once: "Mavrix will
come, whether we want that or not If we try to stand
against it, he'll find more reasons to be angry. If we aid
his path, we may satisfy him and still accomplish what
we want If not, we still may be able to control him." He
looked at Selatre again.
She nodded. Voice hesitant at first, she said, "At the
same time as lord Gerin evokes Mavrix, I—I shall try to
bring into the world Biton, my former patron, my
former—bridegroom." Even with her swarthiness, her
cheeks darkened in embarrassment But she went on,
"Biton the farseeing is a god of order, of forethought,
the opposite of most things Mavrix stands for. And Biton
is old in the northlands, old. His power is rooted here,
not new-come like Mavrix's. It may be that he can keep
the lord of the sweet grape from the excesses that can
accompany his rite."
"But, lass," Van said gently, "after what befell at Ikos,
will the god hearken to your evoking?"
Selatre bit her lip. She'd asked the same question,
just as morning twilight began to paint the eastern hori-
zon with gray. "I don't know," she answered. "The only
way to find out is to make the attempt"
"What if Biton won't come when you call him ?" Aragis
said. "What then?"
'Then we're left with Mavrix—undiluted," Gerin said
after a moment seeking the right way to put it "We'd be
no worse off than if we didn't try to evoke Biton at all."
No better off, either, his mind jeered, but he resolutely
ignored his own gloomy side.

Prince of the North
423
Aragis stuck out his chin. "I insist that you don't seek
to bring the gods into the world until you fulfill your half
of our agreement. If they wreak havoc on you, M also
suffer on that account"
"But if we can persuade them to do as we'd like, we
might be able to rid the land of monsters without any
more fighting," Gerin said "Have you thought on that,
grand duke? Not just driving the creatures back into the
woods so they're a lesser nuisance, but actually being rid
of them for good and all. We can't make that happen;
we're mere mortals. But the gods can do it, if they will.
A risk, aye. But if things go as we design..."
"Besides which, thanks to Rihwin, Mavrix is already
loose in the land, remember," Van said "He can make
mischief any time he chooses. Sometimes the best way
to keep someone from moving on you is to move first
your own self."
"Rihwin!" Aragis eyed Gerin. <cWith your name for
being clever, lord prince, I can't believe you sent that sot
to me as ambassador. Where is he, anyhow?"
"Still drunk asleep in his bed, I suppose," Gerin
answered. "As for the other, there's something in what
you say, but less than you think. He's brave and clever
enough when he's sober, if short sometimes on common
sense. But every now and then, things—happen—with
him." He spread his hands, as if to say Rihwin's vagaries
baffled him, too.
Aragis' hawk face was not made for indecision. Scowl-
ing, he said, "All right, Fox, I don't see how I can stop
you short of war here, but this I tell you now: it had
better work."
'That I already know," Gerin answered "For my sake,
for your sake, for the northlands' sake, it had better
work—which is no guarantee it will."
"All right," Aragis said heavily, as if with his warning

424
Harry Turtledove
he washed his hands of whatever might result from the
evocation. <fWhen do you begin your wizards work?"
"At noon," Gerin said, which made the grand duke
gape.
"Noon is Biton's hour," Selatre added, "the time when
the sun sees farthest Mavrix is strongest by night, when
his impassioned votaries cry 'Evoii!' Whatever chance
his lesser strength by day gives us, we'll gladly take."
"Besides," Gerin said, "by noon Rihwin will be up—
or I'll drag him out of bed, one. We'll need him in this
business, too."
"The gods help you," Aragis said, a sentiment with a
multitude of possible meanings.
Even by noon, Rihwin the Fox was not a happy man.
His face was pasty and his eyes tracked with red; by the
way he kept blinking in the sunshine, he found it much
too bright to suit him. "I don't see why you're making
me carry the jars of wine to your shack," he grumbled
petulantly
"Because if it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have
to be trying this," Gerin answered, his voice hard as stone.
"Since the fault is yours, you can bloody well play the
beast of burden." He brayed like a donkey Rihwin
flinched.
Selatre had laid an assortment of growing things on a
makeshift stone altar in the shack: flowers, fir cones,
duck's eggs. "We won't want to summon Mavrix solely
as god of wine, but also as the god of increase generally,"
she said. 'That may make him more restrained—or, of
course, it may not." Among the flowers, she set the scroll
that held a book of the Sithonian national epic by the
great poet Lekapenos. "Mavrix also inspires the creation
of beauty, as we've noted"
"As you've noted, you mean," Gerin said "Most of

Prince of the North
425
this was your idea; you're the one who's studied Mavrix
of late. Till that wine came into the holding, I was happy
pretending he didn't exist" He turned to Rihwin. "Set
that last jar down over there—carefully! Don't crack it"
Rihwin winced "When you shout like that, you make
my head feel as if it's about to fall off." After a reflective
pause, he added, "I rather wish it would."
"Remember that the next time you tiy to drown your-
self in a wine jar, or even one full of ale," Gerin said
without much sympathy. He drew his dagger, cut through
the pitch that sealed the stopper of one of the wine jars,
and then worked in his knife blade and levered out the
stopper.
The sweet bouquet of wine wafted from the jar. Gerin
sighed with relief. He'dworried that the winejar, or even
both surviving jars, might have gone to vinegar. Had they
been bad, he didn't know what he would have done.
Drawing some of Rihwin's wine-soaked blood didn't
seem like the worst idea in the world.
Gerin dipped up two cups of wine, one for himself,
the other for Rihwin. "Don't drink yet," he growled as
he handed Rihwin his. He looked over to Selatre and
went on, "I still think we might be wiser to call on Biton
first. Then his presence will also serve to check Mavrix."
But she shook her head, as she had ever since they
began planning the evocation. "Biton has litde reason
now to hear any summons from me. But if I call on him
with Mavrix already here, simple jealousy may help to
lure him. Whatever the lord of the sweet grape seeks,
the farseeing one is likely to want to thwart"
"You served the god; you know him best," Gerin said,
yielding yet again. He, and after a moment Rihwin with
him, approached the altar and poured a small libation,
being careful not to mar the scroll of Lekapenos. 'Thank
you for your bounty of the sweet grape, lord Mavrix,"

426
Harry Turtledove
Gerin declaimed in halting Sithonian, and sipped from
his cup of wine.
Rihwin also drank. His eyes widened; he suddenly
seemed several years younger, or at least less worn.
"Thank you for the sweet grape, lord Mavrix," he said,
and then to Gerin, in more ordinary tones, "Nothing
like letting a small snake bite you to ease the venom of a
big one."
"Rihwin, your trouble is that you dont know how to
keep any snakes small," Gerin said. Just to irk Rihwin,
he waved the southerner to silence, not giving him a
chance for a sharp retort. "Re still. I am going to sum-
mon the god."
He walked over to the altar, raised his hands high,
and said, "I summon you to my aid, lord Mavrix, I who
have drunk your wine, I who have met you in days past,
I who am but a mere mortal imploring your assistance, I
who am weak—" He humbled himself without shame.
Measured against the might of a god, any mortal was
weak.
The litany went on and on. Gerin began to wonder if
Mavrix would let himself be evoked. The Sithonian god
of wine had some of the deviousness of the principal
folk that worshiped him. He might appreciate the irony
of forcing Gerin to summon him and then refusing to
appear. If that happened, the Fox intended to drink as
much wine as he could hold and then ride south with
Aragis.
But just when he became certain Mavrix had indeed
set him up to fail, the god appeared in the crowded litde
shack, somehow without makingit more crowded—gods
had their ways. Mavrixs features were regular, exceed-
ingly handsome, and more than a litde effeminate. The
god wore sandals and a fawnskin robe, and had a
leopardskin tunic draped over his shoulders. In his right

Prince of the North	427
hand he carried a green, leafy wand tipped with ivory. A
faint odor of grapes and of something else, harsher,
ranker—perhaps old blood—rose from him.
His eyes were not like a mans eyes. They were two
black pits that reflected nothing. When Gerin looked
into them, he felt himself falling through infinite space,
down and down and down. He needed a great effort of
will to pull his senses back from those twin pits and say
in a shaken voice, "I thank you for granting me your
presence this day, lord Mavrix." He knew he'd just made
a hash of the Sithonian grammar, which was likely only
to win the gods contempt, but it couldn't be helped, not
now.
Mavrix looked at—and through—him. He felt him-
self pierced by the gods gaze, almost as if by a sword. In
a voice in perfect keeping with his appearance, Mavrix
said, 'Tleased, are you? Pleased? The vengeance I owe
you, you should be quaking like an aspen leaf in a gale. I
moved Schild Stupidstaff to give you wine in hope it
would let me come here and take that revenge. And you
are pleased?"
Selatre started her petition to Biton then. Gerin heard
her speak of her own unworthiness to summon the god
who had abandoned her, and then forgot about her. If
he didn't give Mavrix all his attention, he would be ruined
past any hope of Biton s redemption.
Gesturing toward the altar and the various gifts it con-
tained, Gerin said, "If you so badly wanted your revenge,
lord Mavrix, these would have brought you here. Did
you truly need the gift of wine?"
"Aye, for two reasons," the god replied. "First, now
that you have summoned me into the world at this place,
I can act here more fully than I could otherwise. And
second, while first fruits and such are mine, wine is mine,
if you take my meaning. When I am called by wine, I am

428
Harry Turtledove
more truly myself than if evoked in any other way."
"By which you mean you can be vicious without
regretting the consequences, blaming them instead on
the strength of the wine," Rihwin said. "You—"
"Silence, worm," Mavrix said, and, although Rihwin's
lips continued to move, no more sound came from them.
It was an effect Gerin had often wished he could achieve.
To Gerin, the lord of the sweet grape said, quite conver-
sationally, "You'd think he'd learn his lesson, wouldn't
you? And yet, having fallen foul of me once, he persists
in risking my wrath yet again. As do you, I might add,
and you are less a fribbler than he. Why is this?"
Gerin did not directly answer that Instead, he pointed
to the book of Lekapenos he had set on the stone. 'Tou are
not god of wine only, lord Mavrix. You are also patron of
beauty and cleverness. Is this not so?' He was remembering
more Sithonian than he'd thought he had in him.
Mavrix drew himself up to his full height, which was
much more than a man's, yet somehow did not break
through the ceiling of the shack. "No one would deny it,
little man. But you did not answer my question, and not
answering a god is yet another capital crime to set against
you." He gestured with his wand It looked innocuous,
but in his hands it was a weapon more fell than any spear
or sword in the grip of the boldest, fiercest fighter.
Gerin's mouth went dry; he knew the power of that
wand Forcing his voice to steadiness, he replied "Lord
Mavrix, I had to answer in a roundabout way. Truly I
know your role in inspiring the folk of Sithonia to the
peak of artistic endeavor they once enjoyed The reason
I summoned you, lord, is that ugliness now blights the
northlands. If you look about here, if you see it, I pray
you to banish it for aesthetic reasons if no others."
"Seldom have I seen a fish wriggle on a hook as you
do," the god said petulantly 'Very well, I shall look." His

Prince of the North
429
eyes lighted for a moment Gerin saw in them shifting
scenes of the monsters' depredations. Then they became
deep pools of blackness once more. He sneered at Gerin.
"Ugly they are, but what of it? You savages in these cold,
grapeless lands treat each other as vilely as the monsters
use you. Why should I care what they do?"
Before Gerin could answer, Selatre let out a gasp of
stardement and delight, and Biton manifested himself
in the shack. Again, it somehow accommodated him
without growing and at the same time without seeming
crowded Gerin had wondered how the farseeing god
would appear, whether as the handsome youth of the
pediment reliefs on his overthrown shrine or the more
primitive image that was mosdy eyes and jutting phal-
lus. To him, Biton seemed now the one thing, now the
other, depending on which was uppermost in his own
mind at any given moment.
Selatre gasped, 'Thank you, farseeing one, for hear-
ing the prayer of your former servant who reveres you
still."
"Loyalty is rare enough to deserve notice," Biton
answered in a voice that held the same slight rustic accent
as Selatre's, "the more so when it is retained even after it
can no longer be returned."
Mavrix stared at Biton with undisguised loathing. His
features shifted with divine celerity to suit his mood
Turning to Gerin, he sneered, "If you think summoning
this boring backwoods bumpkin of a deity will somehow
save you, I urge you to disabuse yourself of the notion."
'That's not why I called on him," Gerin answered. He
bowed to Biton and said, "Farseeing one, the Sibyl
begged your presence here for the same reason I evoked
Mavrix lord of the sweet grape: to beg you to help rid
the land of the monsters now infesting it As they sprang
from the caverns beneath your fallen fane, I dared hope

430
Harry Turtledove
you might consider them in some small measure your
responsibility"
"Lord, I beg you to look about," Selatre added, "and
see the destruction and disorder these monsters spread
wherever they go."
As Mavrix had, Biton looked. Sometimes Gerin saw
his head revolve on his neck in a manner impossible for
mere flesh and blood, while at other instants what he
perceived was a basalt stele spinning. In either case,
though, Biton unquestionably had eyes—or at least an
eye—in the back of his head
When his image setded, he said, 'This is most dis-
tressing. It seems the sort of chaos this foreign mounte-
bank might favor." With an arm or with that phallus, he
pointed at Mavrix.
"I?" Mavrix twisted in indignation, so that his
leopardskin cape swirled gracefully about him. Gerin
could not imagine him doing anything ungraceful. But
he'd seen in previous encounters with Mavrix that the
god had a temper. Mavrix's smooth voice turned into an
angry screech: "Mountebank, is it? I'd think these mon-
sters more your style—barbarous creatures they, fit only
for a barbarous land And after all, they haunted the
caverns under your shrine. If you despise them so, why
didn't you get rid of them? I suppose you lacked the
power." He sneered dismissively.
Biton suddenly seemed wholly human to Gerin; per-
haps the stone pillar that was his other guise could not
properly express his wrath. 'They are not my creatures!"
he bellowed in a voice that reverberated through Germ's
head like the deep tolling of a great bronze bell. "My
temple blocked them from coming forth and inflicting
themselves on the upper world. In the caverns, they were
part of nature, not a blight upon it. But when I saw the
shrine would fall—"

Prince of the North
431
"Farseeing one indeed," Mavrix interrupted, sneer-
ing still. "If it took you so long to notice that, you aren't
much of a god."
"At least my senses aren't blinded by drunkenness,
adultery, and incest," Biton retorted primly. "Half the
time, you don't even know what you see; the rest of the
time, you don't care."
Both gods started screaming. Gerin clapped his hands
to his head, but it did no good. He was hearing Mavrix
and Biton with his mind, not his ears, and they kept on
dinning just as loud as before.
"Father Dyaus protect us," Rihwin mouthed silently.
"Don't invite him, too," Gerin exclaimed. "Aren't two
squabbling gods enough to satisfy you?" He wanted to
run, but he didn't think that would do any good, either.
If Biton and Mavrix went at it with everything they had,
the whole of the northlands might not be big enough to
hold a safe haven. He'd hoped evoking both of them at
once would help keep them under control. Instead, it
seemed to be inflaming them.
"I thought this scheme mad from the outset" Rihwin
moved his lips exaggeratedly and eked out his words
with gestures, so Gerin could not mistake what he meant
"You are sorcerer enough to evoke the gods, but not
enough to make them do your bidding once here. Bet-
ter you should never have tried!" He clapped a hand to
his forehead.
At that moment, Gerin would have been hard-pressed
to argue with him. Mavrix thrust his ivory-tipped wand
at Biton. Faster than thought, the farseeing god was stone
again, and knocked the wand aside with his phallus.
Mavrix howled in pain. Biton, anthropomorphic once
more, laughed in his face. Mavrix stuck out a tongue
longer and pinker than a human could have had.
Some philosophers called the gods men writ large.

432
Harry Turtledove
Gerin was reminded of nothing so much as small, squab-
bling boys writ large—but these small boys had super-
human strength and power.
"I should have listened to Aragis and waited," Gerin
groaned
"You should have listened to someone," Rihwin
mouthed. With Mavrix distracted, he was faintly audible.
"You're always so splendid at deducing what everyone
else should do, but when anyone makes a suggestion to
you, do you heed it? Ha!" In case his fellow Fox hadn't
caught that, he repeated himself: "Ha!"
That held enough truth to sting. Gerin had always
relied on his own judgment because he'd found none
consistently better. More often than not, his judgment
had served him well. But when he made a mistake, he
did not commonly content himself with a small one.
"Oh, shut up," he growled nonetheless. "As if you've
proved yourself worth listening to over the years." Rihwin
gave back a gesture much used by street urchins in the
City of Elabon.
Next to the way the gods were behaving, the argu-
ment between the two men seemed downright sedate.
Mavrix used the same gesture Rihwin had and stuck
out his tongue again to boot Still in human guise, Biton
lifted his robe and waggled the phallus whose stone ver-
sion had parried the fertility god's wand
Mavrix laughed scornfully. "I've seen mice with more
than that"
"For one thing, you're a liar. For another, who cares
what you've seen?" Biton retorted "I'd sooner look at
things of consequence than the private parts of mice."
"I'd sooner look at things of consequence than your
private parts," the lord of the sweet grape said. With
another nasty laugh, he went on, "Some seeker after con-
sequences you are, too, if you couldn't even tell your

Prince of the North
433
own chief temple was about to be overthrown."
<tfWhat is the blink of an eye against the great sweep of
time?" Biton said 'The temple at Ikos stands for centu-
ries yet to come; am I to be condemned for failing to
notice the brief interval in which it is downfallen?"
Under less harrowing circumstances, Gerin might
have found that interesting, or even hopeful. If Biton s
temple at Ikos was to be rebuilt, that argued some sort
of civilization would survive in the northlands. His own
survival, however, seemed too problematic at the moment
for him to take the long view he usually favored.
"Now that you mention it, yes," Mavrix answered
"Perhaps your true image should have a patch over that
third eye—and one of the other two, as well."
Td almost welcome such," Biton snapped, "if it meant
I did not have to see all the hideous things your mon-
sters are working and shall work in this land."
"They're not my monsters!" Mavrix screeched. "Are
you deaf as well as blind? They're not my monsters! Not!
Not! They're hideous and ugly and revolting, and what
they do is enough to make anyone with a dram of feel-
ing puke right onto his shoes, thus." What Mavrix spewed
forth had a bouquet richer than that of any wine Gerin
had ever known—another area where gods enjoyed an
advantage over men.
Not long before, Mavrix hadn't cared what the mon-
sters were doing in—and to—the northlands. Gerin,
though, hadn't blamed the god for them. Now that Biton
had blamed him, he resented that more than he enjoyed
making Gerin squirm. And if Gerin could bend Mavrix's
course, even a litde...
"Lord Mavrix, if you despise the monsters so, you
could easily show lord Biton they have nothing to do
with you by driving them out of the northlands," he said
"Be quiet, little man," Mavrix said absendy, and Gerin

was quiet, as Rihwin had been before him. He had no
choice in the matter. He exchanged a look of despair
and alarm with Selatre. It had been worth a tiy, but not
all tried succeeded
Biton said, "Ah, lord of the sweet vomitus, so you do
claim the creatures for your own/'
"I do not/" Mavrix screamed in a voice that should
have knocked Fox Keep flat. "Here, I shall prove it to
you." He sucked in a theatrically deep breath, puffed
out his cheeks, and turned purpler than any man could:
Gerin thought of a divine frog with skin the color ofwine.
After that tremendous effort, the god exhaled hard
enough to make Gerin stagger. "There! They're gone.
Look all over the northlands, unseeing one, and you shall
find not a single one of the disgusting creatures."
"Coming from you, drunken fool, any assertion
requires proof," Biton growled As it had before, his head
began to spin independendy of his body—or, alterna-
tively, the stone pillar that was his body turned round
and round Suddenly he stopped and stared contemp-
tuously at Mavrix. "You're as slovenly a workman as I
might have guessed. Look there."
Something glinted for a moment in Mavrix's fathom-
less eyes. "Well, so I missed a couple of them. What of
it?" He gestured. "Now they are here no more. Do you
see? They are not mine!"
Biton continued his surveillance. His whirling head
abruptly halted once more. "And again! You must in truth
be the god of drunkenness, for you're sloppy as a drunk-
ard. Look over yonder now."
Gerin wondered what sense Biton used to find the
monsters, how he indicated to Mavrix where "over yon-
der" was, and how Mavrix turned his own senses in that
direction, whatever it was. He also wondered just how
Mavrix was getting rid of the monsters, and where they

Prince of the North
435
were going. Were he a god, he supposed he would know.
As a man, he had to go on wondering.
"All right, those are gone, too." Mavrix stuck out his
froggy tongue at Biton again. "Now do you see any more,
lord with the eye in the back of your bum?"
Biton spun and searched. A moment later, he said
triumphantly, "Aye, I do, you sozzled neer-do-well. What
of those?"
Mavrix must have stretched his senses in the direc-
tion the farseeing god gave him, for he said, "And they
are vanished, too, and so am I. Even with these few drops
of wine to ease the path for me here, the northlands are
a place I'd sooner leave than come to." He fixed his black,
black eyes on Gerin. "Clever man—you were right.
There are things uglier than you and your kind Who
would have thought it?" With that, he vanished.
Gerin found he could speak again. Being a politic man,
the first thing he said was, "I thank you, lord of the sweet
grape, and bless you as well." Then he turned to Biton.
"Farseeing one, may I ask a question of you?" When the
god did not say no, he went on, "Did Mavrix truly rid the
northlands of the creatures that dwelt so long under your
temple?"
He waited nervously, lest Mavrix hear him and return
in wrath at having his power questioned But the lord of
the sweet grape evidently had been only too glad to leave
the northlands for good
Biton started to nod, then searched once more. When
he stopped, he looked annoyed. 'That wine-soaked
sponge of a Sithonian god is too inept to deserve his
divinity," he said
The Fox took that to mean a monster, or a handful of
monsters, still survived somewhere in the northlands.
He wondered if Mavrix had left behind the cubs he'd
spared—and if he would ever find out In his humblest

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Harry Turtledove
tones, he went on, "Lord Biton, would you be generous
enough to complete what the lord of the sweet grape
began?"
To his dismay, Biton shook his head. "I do not see
myself doing that," the farseeing one said. "It is a task for
men if they so choose. No, my duty now is to restore
Ikos to what it was before the earth trembled beneath
my shrine. Everything there shall be as it was—every-
thing. The temple shall stand again without the agency
of man, and the Sibyl shall be restored to her rightful
place there, to serve as my instrument on earth." He
gazed fondly at Selatre.
She looked from the god to Gerin and back again.
Her voice trembling, she said, "But lord Biton, I no longer
qualify to serve you in that way. In your last prophetic
verse, you yourself called me an oracle defiled Since
that day, I have known the embraces of a man" —she
glanced nervously toward Gerin once more— "and my
courses have begun. I am no longer a fit tool for your
work."
"Everything shall be as it was-—everything," Biton
repeated. "If I can rebuild my fane from tumbled stones,
do you think I have not the power to restore your
maidenhead, to make you a fit vessel for my voice?"
Selatre looked down at the ground. "I am certain you
have that power, lord Biton," she murmured.
Gerin wished desperately for some way to attack Biton,
but could imagine none. Unlike Mavrix, the farseeing
god could not be duped into losing his temper, not by a
man; he was far less vulnerable to earthly concerns than
the earthy lord of the sweet grape. The Fox stared over
at Selatre. Of course she would choose to go back to the
god. How could she not? She had been consecrated to
him since she became a woman, had served him as Sibyl
since her predecessor died Sibyl was all she'd wanted to

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437
be; she'd resented being rescued from her residence by
the temple after the earthquake; she hadn't been able to
abide even the touch of a man for a long time after she
was rescued.
True, she'd come to love him and he her, but what
was that brief brightness when measured against the
course for which her life had been designed? Now that
she had the chance to return to that course, how could
he blame her if she chose to take it?
Truth was, he couldn't Having her go back to Ikos
would tear him worse inside than he'd been torn when
Elise left him. No matter what he'd felt about Elise, she'd
no longer cared for him, else she'd not have gone. But
he knew Selatre loved him still, as he'd come to love her.
Only being certain she would be happier back at Ikos let
him bear up under the thought of losing her. Even with
that certainty, it was hard, hard.
Biton turned his farseeing eyes on Selatre. "You say
nothing. Are you not honored, are you not pleased, that
all shall be restored? Even as I speak to you, the shrine
at Ikos returns to its proper state. It awaits your com-
ing."
"Of course I am honored, lord Biton," she answered,
very softly. "Whether I am pleased... Lord, have you
the power to see what might be as well as what shall
be?"
For a moment, Biton seemed a stone pillar to Gerin,
and altogether unfathomable. Then he resumed his
human appearance. "Even for me, a god, this is diffi-
cult," he replied, his voice troubled. "So many paths
branch off from the true one, and then from one another,
thatlosing oneself grows quickly easier the farther ahead
one seeks to see. Why do you ask?"
"Because I wouldhave you look down the path I would
choose for myself," Selatre said "You are a god; if you

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wish your will to be done, done it shall be. How can I,
who shall live for a litde and then die, oppose it? But—"
She did not go on. Even thinking of declining an honor a
god would confer on her took something special in the
way of courage.
It also filled Gerin with hope as wild and desperate as
his despair had been a moment before.
Bitons head began its boneless spin. This time it did
not just revolve, but also grew misty, so Gerin could see
the far wall of the shack through it. The farseeing god
searched for what seemed a very long time; now and
again, he would almost disappear altogether. Gerin
started when Biton fully returned
"You may live your life as you will," the god told Selatre.
"My Sibyl is my bride, not my slave. I shall mark another,
one who will be willing to serve me. I shall not tell you
what may spring from your choice, but I say this: as with
any other, make the best of it. And a word of warning—
for mortals, there is no such thing as living happily ever
after"
"I know that, lord Biton. Thank you. I will try to make
the best of it" Selatre started to prostrate herself to the
god, but Biton disappeared before her knees could touch
the ground
She and Gerin and Rihwin stared at one another,
dazed. "I think we may have won," Gerin said in a voice
that sounded disbelieving even to him. Then he remem-
bered something more important to say than that He
turned to Selatre. 'Thank you. I'll try never to make you
sorry for choosing me over, over—" For one of the few
times in his life, words failed him. She'd known what
she was giving up. At last, huskily, he managed, "I love
you."
"I've noticed that," she said, and smiled at his startled
expression. "It's why I chose to stay with you, after all.

Prince of the North
439
You love me, while for Biton I'd just be—oh, not a tool,
not quite, maybe something more like a favorite pet. Its
not enough, not now that Ive known better." Her own
voice went soft. "And I love you, which did, mm, enter
into my thinking." She smiled again, this time with a
touch of mischief.
Rihwin said, "We have two jars of the blood of the
sweet grape here, waiting—indeed, all but crying—to
be drunk in celebration of our triumph."
"How right you are, my fellow Fox." Gerin picked up
the jar they'd opened to summon Mavrix—and poured
it out over Rihwin's head. The red-purple wine splashed
him and Selatre, too, but it drenched Rihwin, which was
what he'd had in mind. The southerner spluttered and
squawked and flapped his arms—which just splattered
the wine more widely—and rubbed at his eyes. Gerin
didn't doubt they stung fiercely—and didn't regret what
he'd done, either.	»
"A waste, a criminal waste," Rihwin said, sucking at
his mustache so as to swallow every precious drop he
could. "Had it not been for my wine-bibbing, we would
not have seen the northlands freed from the vicious and
horrible curse of the monsters."
"Had it not been for your wine-bibbing," Gerin said
grimly, "we wouldn't have had to put our fate in the hands
of two gods, one of whom was already angry at me and
the other ready to get angry because I'd taken his voice
on earth as my woman. Aye, it turned out well. That's
not why I gave you the one jar of wine as I did—it was
for forcing us to take such a dreadful chance." He picked
up the other, unopened jar. "Because we succeeded, this
one is yours to do with as you will."
Rihwin bowed, dripping still. "You are a lord among
lords, my fellow Fox."
"What I am is bloody tired of having to worry every

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moment of every day/' Gerin said 'The gods willing"—
a phrase that took on new and urgent meaning after die
evocation— 'Til have maybe three days of peace now
before the next thing, whatever it is, goes horribly wrong.
Come on, lets tell Aragis and the rest what we've done
here today."
Along with Van and Fand and Drago and Marlanz
and Faburs, Aragis the Archer stood at what Gerin
thought of as a "safe" distance from the shack. The word
was a misnomer, of course. Had the gods truly released
their wrath, nowhere in the northlands would have been
far enough from Fox Keep to escape—as the monsters
had discovered
Everyone pointed and exclaimed when they came
forth. Fand's voice pierced through the rest "Did the
sot spill the wine and wreck your magic, now?"
"Not a bit of it," Gerin answered. "We summoned
the gods, and the monsters are no more."
That raised the hubbub quite a bit higher than it had
been. Van said, "But how can it be, Captain? You only
just went in there."
"What? Are you witstruck?" Gerin demanded "We
were in the shack an hour at least, more likely two." He
looked to Selatre and Rihwin for confirmation. They both
nodded
Without a word Aragis pointed up into the sky. Gerin's
eyes followed the track of the grand duke's finger toward
the sun. He had to look away, blinking, but not before
his jaw dropped in astonishment By the sun's place in
the sky, a couple of minutes might have passed, but no
more.
"I don't understand it," he said "but I was telling the
truth, too. I suppose the bigger truth is, when you treat
with gods, you can't expect the world they know to be
ordinary one we usually live in."

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441
Aragis said, "I think you had better tell me in detail all
that came to pass in there. I warn you, I am not satisfied
with what you have said so far. It strikes me as likely to
be a ploy to keep from having to honor your share of our
terms of alliance. Are you saying the monsters are sim-
ply gone, thus?" He snapped his fingers.
"Lets go into the great hall and broach some ale, and
m tell you everything I remember," Gerin said.
Rihwin held out the jar of wine Gerin had given him.
"No, lets share this," he said. "As Mavrix is part of the
tale, so should he also be part of the explanation." That
made sense, but hearing it from Rihwin surprised Gerin.
For his fellow Fox to share wine he could have kept for
himself was not far from a revolution in human nature,
and confirmed that something extraordinary had indeed
happened inside the hut
Divided among so many—and with a libation to the
lord of the sweet grape—die one jar of wine did not go
far, but Gerin savored every sweet drop; when he'd
evoked Mavrix, he'dhardly tasted what he'd drunk. Aided
by Selatre and the wine-soaked Rihwin, he explained
everything that had passed in the hut
When he was done, Van said, "Some of the yarns I've
told are wild, but I hand it to you, Captain: that beats
'em all."
'Thank you—I think." Gerin could rely on his friend
to believe him. Aragis the Archer was something else
again. Gerin eyed the grand duke with some concern,
wondering how he would react.
Aragis' jaw worked, as if he were chewing over the
tale Gerin had told. At last he said, "It fits together well
enough; I give you so much. But how am I to know
whether it's the truth or just a clever tale to get me out of
your hair?"
"Send a team down to Ikos," Selatre suggested. "If

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they find no monsters on the way and discover Biton's
shrine restored, you'll know we have not lied. Its not a
long journey; four days, five at the most, will get your
men to the temple and back. Then you won't have to
guess—you will know."
Aragis' jaw went up and down again. After a moment,
he dipped his head to Selatre. "My lady, that is a fine
thought We would not have left here much before my
men could return from Ikos in any case. I'll do as you
say, though I'll send more than one team south, on the
off chance you're... mistaken." He was too courteous
to suggest straight out that she was lying, but left the
implication in place.
Once his mind was made up, he was not a man to
waste time. Four chariots fared south toward Ikos that
afternoon. Gerin gladly gave them supplies for the jour-
ney; he was confident about what they'd find there. He
went to sleep that night wondering where the last of the
monsters, the ones Mavrix had missed, still lurked in the
northlands. Were they the cubs he'd spared? Solve that
riddle and you'd deserve undying praise. The world being
what it was, you probably wouldn't get it, but you'd
deserve it.
Two days later, the lookout in the watchtower blew a
long blast on his horn and shouted, "Lord prince, chari-
ots approach out of the southwest" Gerin frowned; it
was too soon for Aragis' men to be coming back, and the
southwest... The sentry's voice cracked in excitement
as he added, "Lord prince, they're Trokmoi!"
The Fox cupped his hands and called up to the sen-
try, "How many chariots? Are we invaded?" That would
be a mad thing for Adiatunnus to try, but just because a
thing was mad didn't mean it couldn't happen.
"No invasion, lord prince," the sentry answered, much

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443
to his relief. There's just a handful of them, and they're
showing the striped shield of truce."
To the gate crew and the men on the palisade, Gerin
called, 'We'll let one crew into the courtyard; the rest
can wait outside. If they try to follow, they'll never go
home again."
The Trokmoi uttered not a word of protest when
Gerin's troopers passed them those conditions. At the
Fox's nod, the gate crew let down the drawbridge, then
grabbed for bows and spears. A single chariot rattled
and rumbled over the bridge into Fox Keep. Gerin rec-
ognized one of the woodsrunners in it. "I greet you,
Diviciacus son of Dumnorix," he said.
"And I'm after greeting you as well, lord Gerin, though
I met some of your men closer than I cared for, these
few days past," the Trokme answered. A long, ugly cut
furrowed his left arm and showed what he meant. He
got down from the car and bowed low to Gerin. "Lord
prince, in the name of Adiatunnus my chieftain, I'm come
here to do you honor. Adiatunnus bids me tell you he'll
be your loyal vassal for as long as you're pleased to have
him so. Forbye, there're tribute wains waiting to come
hither so soon as your lordship is kind enough to tell me
you accept his fealty, indeed and there are."
Gerin stared at Van. They both stared at Aragis. All
three men seemed bewildered. Gerin knew he was. He
turned back to Diviciacus. "What accounts for
Adiatunnus'... change of mind?' he asked carefully. "A
few days past, as you said, we were all doing our best to
kill one another."
"Och, but that was then and this is now," Diviciacus
answered. He sounded bewildered, too, as if he'd
expected the Fox to know exactly what he was talking
about When he saw Gerin didn't, he went on, "Himself
was chewing things over with one of the monsters—one

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o the smart ones, y ken—the other day when lo! All of a
sudden the creature turns to smoke before the very eyes
of him, and then its gone! All the others gone with it,
too; not a one left, far as we can tell. Will you say that's
none o' your doing, lord prince?"
The Fox didn't say anything for a moment Now Aragis
bowed to him, almost as low as Diviciacus had. "Lord
prince, I think in your own way you have met the terms
of the alliance to which we agreed, which is to say, I
doubt the monsters now threaten my holding."
'Thank you, grand duke," Gerin said vaguely. He'd
known what Mavrix had said he'd done, of course, but
knowing in the abstract and being confronted with actual
results were two different things. Pulling himself together,
he told Diviciacus, "Aye, the god worked that at my urg-
ing." In fact, the gods had worked that because they'd
been quarreling with each other, but some things the
Trokme didn't need to know. "And so?"
"And so, lord prince," Diviciacus answered, "Adiatun-
nus has the thought in him that he'd have to be a raving
madman to set himself against your honor, you being
such a fine wizard and all. 'Diviciacus,' he tells me, 'not
even Balamung could have magicked the creatures so,'
and I'm after thinking he's right. If he canna stand against
you, he'll stand wi' you, says he."
"So he'll stand with me, will he?" Gerin said. "I mean
him no disrespect, but he's shown he's not to be trusted,
that chieftain of yours. When he says he'll stand with
me, he's more likely to mean he'll stand behind me, that
being the best place from which to slide a dagger between
my ribs."
Diviciacus sighed. "Himself feared you'd say as much,
there being bad blood betwixt the two of you and all. He
gave me leave to say this if you didna trust him: he'll give
you his eldest son, a boy of twelve, to live with you here

Prince of the North
445
at this keep as hostage for his good behavior. The lad'll
leave with the load of tribute I spoke of earlier/'
'Will he?" Gerin pondered that. Adiatunnus could
hardly offer more to show his sincerity. The Fox added,
"Did your chieftain give you leave to take the oath of
homage and fealty in his place?"
"He did that, lord prince, and I know the way you
southrons do it, too." Diviciacus went to one knee before
Gerin and held out his hands, palms together. Gerin set
his hands to either side of the Trokme's. Diviciacus said,
"Adiatunnus my chieftain owns himself to be your vas-
sal, Gerin the Fox, Prince of the North, and gives you
the whole of his faith against all men who might live or
die."
"I, Gerin, Prince of the North, accept the homage of
Adiatunnus through you, Diviciacus son of Dumnorix,
and pledge in my turn always to use him jusdy. In token
of which, I raise you up now." The Fox did just that, and
kissed Diviciacus on his brisdy cheek.
The Trokme beamed "By Taranis, Teutates, and Esus
I swear my chieftain Adiatunnus' fealty to you, lord
prince."
Any oath less than the strongest one the Trokmoi used
would have made Gerin suspicious of the chieftain. With
it, he bowed in return, satisfied "By Dyaus the father of
all, Biton the farseeing one, and Mavrix lord of the sweet
grape, I accept his oath and swear in turn to reward his
loyalty with my own."
Diviciacus eyed him keenly; Adiatunnus had not dis-
patched a fool as his ambassador. "You Elabonians are
always after swearing by Dyaus, but the other two aren't
usually the gods you name in your frickfullest aiths. They'd
be the ones who did your bidding for you, I'm thinking."
'That's my affair," Gerin said The Trokme was right
and wrong at the same time: Gerin had indeed

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summoned Mavrix and Biton, but the gods did their own
bidding, no one else's. If you were clever enough—and
lucky enough—you might make them see that what you
wanted was also in their interest. That once, the Fox had
been clever and lucky enough. He never wanted to
gamble on such bad odds again.
Aragis' chariot crews returned with word of Ikos
miraculously restored and not a sign of monsters any-
where, and seemed miffed when everyone took their
report as a matter of course. The day after they got back
to Fox Keep, Aragis and his whole host set out for his
holding in the south.
"Perhaps we'll find ourselves on the same side again
one day," Aragis said
"May it be so," Gerin agreed. He didn't quite care for
the grand duke's tone. Had he been in Aragis' sandals,
he would have worried about himself, too: with
Adiatunnus as his vassal, his power and prestige in the
northlands would soar... maybe to the point where
Aragis would go looking for allies now, hoping to knock
him down before he got too powerful to be knocked
down. In Aragis' sandals, Gerin would have tried that.
To forestall it, he said, "I almost wish I didn't have the
Trokme as my ally. He'd be easier to watch as an enemy
than as someone who claimed to be my friend."
'There is that." Aragis rubbed his chin. "Well, we'll
see how you do with him." With that ambiguous fare-
well, the Archer turned and went back among his own
men. Gerin knew he would bear watching, too, no less
than Adiatunnus. This once, his interests and the Fox's
had coincided. Next time, who could say?
Gerin sighed If he spent all the time he should watch-
ing his neighbors, where would he find time for any-
thing else?

Prince of the North
447
Notlong after Aragis andhis warriors left for the grand
duke's lands, Duren came up to Gerin and asked, "Papa,
are you angry at Fand?"
"Angry at Fand?" The Fox frowned He often thought
Fand counted any day where she didn't make someone
angry at her a day wasted, but he didn't say that to his
son. Duren liked Fand, and she'd never been anything
but gentle with him. "No. I'm not angry at her. Why did
you think I was?"
"Because you never go to her chamber anymore. It's
always Van."
"Oh." Gerin scratched his head How was he sup-
posed to explain that to his son? Duren awaited a reply
with the intense seriousness only a four-year-old can
show. Slowly, Gerin said, "Fand has decided she likes
Van better than she likes me. You remember how she
and I would quarrel sometimes, don't you?"
Duren nodded "But she quarrels with Van, too."
'That's true," the Fox said, "but it's—usually—a happy
sort of quarreling. She doesn't treat you any differently
now that she's just with Van instead of with him and me,
does she?"
"No," Duren said
'That's good" Gerin meant it; he would have quar-
reled with Fand, and in no happy way, had the boy said
yes. He went on, "Now that Fand is with Van, Selatre is
my special friend Do you like her, too?" He waited anx-
iously for Duren's answer.
"Oh, yes," Duren said. "She's nice to me. She doesn't
treat me like a baby, the way some people do just because
I'm not big yet And do you know what else?" His voice
dropped to the conspiratorial whisper reserved for secrets.
"She taught me what some of the letters sound like."
"Did she?' Gerin said "I'll bet I know which ones,
too."

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Harry Turtledove
"How can you know that?" Duren demanded in the
tone children use when, as frequently, they assume their
parents can't possibly know anything.
'Were they the ones that spell your name?" Gerin
asked.
Duren stared at him. Every once in awhile—not often
enough—a parent will redeem himself by proving he
does know what he's talking about after all. "How did
you know?" the boy said, his eyes enormous. "Did you
use magic?" Now that his father had got away with sum-
moning two gods, he assumed Gerin was a mighty mage.
The Fox, who knew how lucky he'd been, wished that
were so but made a point of bearing firmly in mind that
it wasn't
He said, "No, I didn't need any magic for that The
letters of a person's name are almost always the ones he
learns first, because those are the ones that are most
important to him. Do you know what else?"
"No, what?" Duren breathed He liked secrets, too,
and was good at keeping them for a boy of his years.
"When Selatre came to Fox Keep—that was just a
few days after Tassilo stole you—she didn't know her
letters, either," Gerin said. "I taught them to her myself.
So she should know how to teach you, because she just
learned."
"Really?" Duren said Then he looked doubtful. "But
she reads so well. I can only read the letters in my name,
and find them in other words sometimes. But I don't
know what the other words say."
"It's all right It's nothing to worry about," Gerin assured
him. "You're still very little to know any letters at all. Even
most grown people don't, you know. Selatre learned hers
quickly partly because she's smart—just like you—and
partly because she's a woman grown, and so when she
reads something she understands what it's talking about

Prince of the North
449
You cant always do that, because a lot of things that are
in the words on the parchment haven't happened to you
yet. Do you understand?"
"No." Duren's face clouded over. "I want to be able to
do it now"
Gerin picked him up, tossed him in the air, and caught
him as he came down. Duren squealed. Gerin spun him
around and around and around. He squealed again.
When Gerin set him down, he took a couple of stagger-
ing steps and fell on his bottom. Gerin was dizzy, too,
but tried not to show it. He said, "Could you throw me
up in the air and spin me around and around like that?"
"Don't be silly, Papa." Duren tried to get up, but
seemed to have as much trouble walking as Rihwin had
the night he broached the wine.
"Why not?" Gerin persisted "Why can't you do that?"
"You're too big."
'That's right, and you're too litde. When you're big-
ger, you'll be able to do things like that, and you'll be
able to read easier, too."
Duren considered that, then said, "Spin me again!"
Gerin happily obeyed, and enjoyed listening to the happy
sounds his son made. This time, Duren didn't even try
to stand up when Gerin put him on the ground. He lay
there staring up at the sky; Gerin would have bet he saw
it going round and round. Finally he made it back to his
feet. "Again!" he demanded
"No," the Fox said. "If you do too much of that, you
can make yourself sick."
"Really?" Gerin watched his son think that over; the
process was very visible. Duren obviously decided that
was an interesting idea, and one worth exploring further.
He spun away, laughing out loud.
Gerin laughed, too, but only for a moment. Duren
could afford to live for the present—indeed, at his age,

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Harry Turtledove
he could hardly do anything else. Gerin did not enjoy
that luxury. His son was the only good thing he had left
from his shattered marriage with Elise, and he loved the
boy without reservation. But what would happen to
Duren when he wed Selatre and had children by her?
Minstrels sang songs about stepmothers, but how would
he blame Selatre for wanting her own blood to advance?
Who would end up whose vassal, and after how much
hatred and strife?
With such unpleasant thoughts in his mind, he was
almost embarrassed when Selatre came out of the great
hall and walked over to him. 'Why so grim-faced?" she
asked. 'The monsters are—wherever Mavrix sent them.
They re not here, anyway. Ikos is risen again, I suppose
with a new Sibyl. Adiatunnus is lying low, at least for
now. You should be happy."
"Oh, I am," he said, "but not for any of those rea-
sons."
She frowned, looking for the meaning behind his
words. When she found it, she looked down at the ground
for a moment; sometimes a compliment could make her
as nervous as being touched once had. Then she said, "If
you are so happy, why haven't you told your face about
it?"
He clicked his tongue between his teeth. "I was try-
ing to look into the future, and I don't have a god to
guide my sight"
"Biton didn't guide me," Selatre said "He just spoke
through me, and I had no memory of what he would
say. What did you see that troubled you so?"
Gerin wondered if he should have kept his mouth
shut But no: Selatre prized truth, partly from her own
nature and perhaps partly also because so much raw truth
had washed through her as the god's conduit So, hesi-
tandy, he explained

Prince of the North
451
"Yes, those are troubling thoughts," she said when he
was done. "Much will depend on what sort of man Duren
becomes, and on any other children who may appear."
She glanced over to him, her head cocked to one side.
"So you aim to wed me, do you? This is the first I've
heard of it."
He coughed and sputtered; his ears got hot. "I did
intend to ask you formally," he said; hearing how lame
his voice sounded only made his ears hotter. "But yes, it
has been in my mind, and it just—slipped out now. What
say you to that?"
"Oh, I say yes, without a doubt," Selatre answered
He hugged her, glad past words that he hadn't been too
clumsy for her to bear. But she still had that—measur-
ing—look on her face. She said, "As long as you are look-
ing into the future, what makes you bold enough to think
I won't want to run off with a horseleech someday, as
Elise did?"
"Oof!" he said the air rushing out of him; she couldn't
have deflated him any more thoroughly if she'd kicked
him in the belly. "And we men like to think we're the
cool and calculating sex." But he saw she wanted a seri-
ous answer, and did his best to give her one: "I've learned
some things since I wed her, or I hope I have, anyhow. I
know better than to take a wife for granted just because
we've given each other pledges. Marriage is like, hmm,
the palisade around this keep: if I don't keep checking to
make sure the timber stays sound it'll fall to pieces one
day. That's most important. The other thing is, you suit
me better than she did in a lot of different ways. I don't
think the two of us will rub each other raw. And if we
start to, I hope I'm wise enough now to try to make sure
that doesn't get too bad. And I hope you are, too." He
waited to see what she'd say to that
Once more to his vast relief, she nodded 'Those are

452
Harry Turtledove
good reasons," she said "If you'd given me something
like, 'Because I think you re lovelier than the stars in the
sky,' then I'd have worried"
"I do," Gerin said "Think you're lovelier than the stars
in the sky, I mean."
Selatre glancedaway. "I'm glad you do," she answered
quietly. "But while that's a fine reason to want to bed
someone, it really isn't reason enough to wed One fine
day, you'd likely see someone else you think is lovelier
than the stars in the sky—and then, what point in having
married?"
'The one and only good thing about growing older
that I've found is that I don't think with my crotch as
much as I used to," he said.
"As much, eh?" Selatre stuck out her tongue at him.
"I will put up with a certain amount of that, I sup-
pose ... depending on whom you're thinking about"
He slipped an arm around her waist, drew her to him.
Not very long before, even trying that would have got
him killed by the temple guards at Ikos. Even more
recently, she'd have pulled away in horror, still thinking a
man's touch a defilement Now she molded herself to
him.
As if to prove he hadn't been thinking entirely with
his crotch, he said, "Duren tells me you're starting to
teach him his letters."
"Do you mind?" Her voice was anxious. "I didn't think
I had to tell you; you've always been one to want people
to be able to read. And he's a good boy, your son. I like
him. If he has an early start on his letters, they'll come
easier for him. Learning them once I was all grown up,
I sometimes thought my head would burst"
"Did you?' Gerin said. "If you did, you hid it very
well. And you learned them very well, too—better than
most of the people I've taught when they were younger.

Prince of the North
453
No, I don't mind You're right—I'm glad he has a start
on them. And I'm glad you like him."
Maybe he gave that some slight extra emphasis, or
maybe Selatre was getting better at fathoming the way
his mind worked She said, "Aye, I can see howyou might
be."
She made a face. "I don't intend to act like a wicked
stepmother in a tale, I promise you that" She paused for
a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I wonder what
the stepmothers in those tales intended Is anyone ever
wicked in her own eyes?"
"Do you know," Gerin said slowly "there's a question
that would keep the sages down in the City of Elabon
arguing for days. When I first opened my mouth, I would
have said of course some people seem wicked, even to
themselves. But when I try to see through their eyes, I
wonder. Balamung the Trokme wizard set the northlands
on their ear a few years ago, but he thought he was tak-
ing just revenge for slights he'd got And Wolfar of the
Axe—■" He broke off and scowled; remembering Wolfar
made him remember Elise, too. 'Wolfar was out for his
own gain, and didn't see one bloody thing wrong with
that You may be right"
'They probably saw you as wicked for tying to stop
them," Selatre said
"So they did," Gerin said 'Which didn't mean I didn't
judge them wicked, or that they didn't need stopping."
"And you stopped them," Selatre said nodding. "Did
I righdy hear that you slew Wolfar in the library?" She
gave him a different sort of sidelong look this time, as if
to say that was not the proper use to which to put a
chamber dedicated to preserving books.
"If I hadn't killed him there, he certainly would have
killed me," Gerin answered 'That he didn't wasn't for
lack of trying."His neck throbbed at the memory;Wolfar

454
Harry Turtledove
had come within an eyelash of strangling him. But he
had strangled Wolfar, and in so doing won what passed
for Schild's loyalty.
Selatre said, "If you hadn't slain him then, I probably
wouldn't be alive today—the monsters would have
caught me the day of the earthquake." Her laugh came
shaky. "Strange to think your own being depends on
something that had happened years ago to someone you
didn't know then."
"Aye, that is a curious thought," Gerin agreed. "Some
Trokme—or maybe more than one of the woodsrunners;
I've never known for certain—twisted my life out of the
path I'd planned for it when he—they—killed my father
and my brother and left me baron of Fox Keep. If you
dwell on the might-have-beens, it's like wandering
through a maze."
"Might-have-beens strain even the powers of the
gods," Selatre said. "Remember how Biton had to strain
to see what might come from my going back to Ikos and
my staying here with you?"
"I'm not likely to forget it," Gerin said with feeling. "I
thought I'd lost you forever."
"Biton was kindly, perhaps in memory of how I'd
served him before," Selatre answered. "But even if he
hadn't been, how could you hope to set your will against
a god's?"
T couldn't," Gerin said, and let it go at that The god's
will had not been his principal concern; Selatre's had
With a lifetime devoted to Biton and bare days to him,
she was only too likely to have chosen to return to what
she'd always known. That she hadn't left made him grate-
ful every time he looked at her. Most seriously, he said,
"I'll do my best to make sure you're never sorry about
your choice."
"You needn't worry about that," Selatre said The

Prince of the North
455
farseeing one will have made his own selection by now;
with the temple at Ikos restored, he would not leave it
without a Sibyl. I'm here because I wanted to be, and
not because I have no other choice open to me."
Again Gerin kept part of his thoughts to himself. There
was always another choice: the one Elise had taken. What
he had to do now—what he had to do forever—was to
make sure Selatre was too content at Fox Keep ever to
want to leave it.
He hugged her again, but didn't think, as he had a
little while before, of taking her up to his chamber and
barring the door. Simple affection had its place, too.
Maybe after all he could say some of what he'd thought:
"If we work at it, it mill turn out all right"
"Are you making prophecies now?" Selatre asked 'Ter-
haps I should have worried about whether Biton would
take you back to Ikos and set you on the throne of pearl."
'Thank you, no," Gerin said "I'm right where I belong,
not doing what I'd hoped to be doing, maybe, but doing
something that needs doing—and I'm just happy you
think you belong here, too."
'That I do," Selatre agreed "And now, if you're not
going to drag me upstairs, I'll go up by myself and wade
through that scroll on Kizzuwatnan hepatomancy I was
trying to make sense of the other day."
'That one doesn't make much sense to me, either,"
Gerin said "My guess is that it either didn't make much
sense to the Sithonian who wrote it in the first place or to
the Elabonian who put it into our language. I've tried
foretelling a few times from livers of cows or sheep we've
slaughtered but what I divined had nothing to do with
what ended up happening. Something's been lost some-
where, I think."
"Maybe it will come clear if I keep studying it," Selatre
said and headed back into the great hall.

456
Harry Turtledove
Gerin smiled as he watched her go. Though she
didn't put it the way he had, she also believed in work-
ing at something till you got it right. Even without
hepatomancy, he knew a good omen when he saw one.
The way she'd teased him about dragging her upstairs
he took for a good omen, too. With Elise, anything
involving the bedchamber had been a deadly serious busi-
ness. With Fand, he'd never known whether he was in for
a grand time or a fight Making love with someone neither
earnest nor inflammatory was new to him, but he liked it.
Drifting after Selatre, he walked into the great hall
himself. Van sat at one of the tables there, a roast
chicken—mostly bones now—in front of him, a pitcher
of ale within easy reach. He nodded to the Fox and said,
"Grab yourself a jack, Captain, and help me get to the
bottom of this."
"I don't mind if I do." Gerin sat down across from the
outlander, who poured him a full jack.
Van raised his own and said, 'To the Prince of the
North—maybe one day to the King of the North!" He
poured the ale down his throat, then stared sharply at
Gerin. "You'd better drink to that"
"So I should," Gerin said, and obediently drank. He
smacked his lips, partly tasting the ale, partly Van's words.
King of the North? "If I'm lucky, my grandson may wear
that title."
Van pluckedathis beard "I don't know, Fox. All's topsy-
turvy here, and you're a young man yet. If you live, you
may do it"
Gerin shifted uncomfortably on the bench, as if he'd
got a splinter in his backside. "I don't know that I want to
do it. A title like that... It'd be an open invitation to all
the other lords in the northlands to gang together and
pull me down."
"I don't know," Van repeated. "Me, I don't think Aragis

Prince of the North
457
would lift a finger against you, for fear you'd call down
the gods and turn him into a lump of cheese, or some
such. Same with Adiatunnus. And without them, who'd
raise a proper fight?"
'They're waiy of me now, aye," Gerin said, "but that'll
fade by the time the first snow falls. I can't make myself
king before then; I'm too weak. And taking the tide when
I haven't the strength to back it up—" He shook his head.
"Aragis wants to be king. I think he'd fight for pride's
sake if I went and put on a crown."
"Have ityour way—you generally do," Van said "From
where I sit, looks like you could bring it off." He poured
the last of the ale into his jack, drained it, got up, and
headed for the stairs.
He'd left one of the wings on the roast fowl uneaten.
Gerin pulled it off the carcass, gnawed on it thought-
fully. He shook his head after a litde while, still convinced
he was right. All the same, he sent a resentful look toward
the stairway: Van had kindled his ambition, and he'd
known just what he was doing, too.
"Not yet," Gerin said. His lands had suffered too much
from the monsters, and from the fights with Adiatunnus.
He wanted time to wed Selatre and to enjoy life with
her (though the calculating part of his mind said being
married to the former Sibyl of an Ikos now miraculously
restored would also foster his prestige among his neigh-
bors). No, not yet
But who could say? The time might come.

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