Innes.
The Grip laughed roughly, his arms crossed in front of him. "It's not just your eyes that are blind," he mocked. "And you be still," he said to me. "It hardly suits my purposes to kill, though those purposes may change."
"The king did promise us seven days," I insisted."Seven days."
But the King's Grip laughed again. "He did indeed."
"I've heard the riddle too," said Innes."Even if you take Tousle, I'll still solve it and be back in the courtyard."
At this a deep and guttural guffawing from the Grip filled the mill."I've no doubt that you will, boy, blind as you are. No doubt at all."
"Then you will have failed."
"I haven't followed you across a frozen countryside for a riddle."
"You're not from the king at all," said Innes suddenly.
"Ah, not so blind after all," agreed the Grip. He leaned back against the wall.
"From Lord Beryn, then," said Innes.
"It is fitting that Lord Beryn's living memorial should be more perceptive than the king himself—though there is no great challenge there." The King's Grip was sneering. "He sent me to guard you on your way."
"A lie," I said.
"No, no indeed. There's the great joke of it. He
wants
you to solve the riddle. But when he sent me after you, he had not considered that Lord Beryn might send me to find you for a very different reason." He fingered his sword.
"The king sent you to guard us?" Innes said wonderingly.
"To guard us from what?" I asked.
"You still do not see. Not even now. To the Great Lords you are a past revealed, a maze unraveled, a darkness illuminated. You are a threat."
"Now
you
speak in riddles," said Innes.
"If riddles are the stuff of the king, then they may be the stuff of the King's Grip. This much is certain: The reward that each offers is no riddle."The smile never left the Grip's face. He stood with arms crossed, as powerful as a mountain torrent, playing with us like the silvery fish it washes away.
"Would Lord Beryn have us killed?" asked Innes.
"He would."
"And you would kill for money, for a reward beyond your imagining." The scorn in Innes's voice was as heavy as a millstone.
"Death comes with war, disease, old age, and money, boy. Only the money brings pleasure—sometimes the war."
"So," I said, "either protect us in the king's name, and take his reward, or kill us in Lord Beryn's name and take his reward. Who offered more?"
"A bold question, young Tousle. Boldly stated, and worthy of you. Would that I could do both and collect two rewards."
"No," said Innes suddenly."No. If he had come from the king to protect us, he would not have played this game. If he came from Lord Beryn to kill us..."
"I would have done it. Not blind at all."
"Tousle," said Innes urgently, "the people in this village, they fear Lord Beryn's Guard, not this man. And he wants the Guard not to know about us. Don't you see? Whatever he is doing, neither the king nor Lord Beryn knows about it."
The smile dropped from the King's Grip. "Be still, boy, or the hand that blinded you will be the hand that silences you forever. Yes, riddle upon riddle, this day of the world. The game thickens and thickens."
He drew his sword and grabbed my arm."I have a better tale to tell, a tale hidden from all but a few. The hidden tale of a tiny little man with a long tipped beard who came into the castle unnoticed by the king, by the Great Lords, by all of Lord Beryn's Guard. A tale about rooms of straw, a spinning wheel, skeins of gold thread, and the hands not of a queen but of a little man. Bales and bales of gold so fine, so perfect that no one had ever seen its like."
And then I knew."It's Da you want. Not us. Da."
"For years I've looked for him, boy, for years. Not a day has gone by when my spies did not haunt the palace, Wolverham, the countryside. For thirteen years they have stood in shadows, along dark paths, by the city gates, watching, waiting. Thirteen years is a long time to wait. Then, at the king's procession, the news came. He was back, and with a boy.
The Grip laughed roughly, his arms crossed in front of him. "It's not just your eyes that are blind," he mocked. "And you be still," he said to me. "It hardly suits my purposes to kill, though those purposes may change."
"The king did promise us seven days," I insisted."Seven days."
But the King's Grip laughed again. "He did indeed."
"I've heard the riddle too," said Innes."Even if you take Tousle, I'll still solve it and be back in the courtyard."
At this a deep and guttural guffawing from the Grip filled the mill."I've no doubt that you will, boy, blind as you are. No doubt at all."
"Then you will have failed."
"I haven't followed you across a frozen countryside for a riddle."
"You're not from the king at all," said Innes suddenly.
"Ah, not so blind after all," agreed the Grip. He leaned back against the wall.
"From Lord Beryn, then," said Innes.
"It is fitting that Lord Beryn's living memorial should be more perceptive than the king himself—though there is no great challenge there." The King's Grip was sneering. "He sent me to guard you on your way."
"A lie," I said.
"No, no indeed. There's the great joke of it. He
wants
you to solve the riddle. But when he sent me after you, he had not considered that Lord Beryn might send me to find you for a very different reason." He fingered his sword.
"The king sent you to guard us?" Innes said wonderingly.
"To guard us from what?" I asked.
"You still do not see. Not even now. To the Great Lords you are a past revealed, a maze unraveled, a darkness illuminated. You are a threat."
"Now
you
speak in riddles," said Innes.
"If riddles are the stuff of the king, then they may be the stuff of the King's Grip. This much is certain: The reward that each offers is no riddle."The smile never left the Grip's face. He stood with arms crossed, as powerful as a mountain torrent, playing with us like the silvery fish it washes away.
"Would Lord Beryn have us killed?" asked Innes.
"He would."
"And you would kill for money, for a reward beyond your imagining." The scorn in Innes's voice was as heavy as a millstone.
"Death comes with war, disease, old age, and money, boy. Only the money brings pleasure—sometimes the war."
"So," I said, "either protect us in the king's name, and take his reward, or kill us in Lord Beryn's name and take his reward. Who offered more?"
"A bold question, young Tousle. Boldly stated, and worthy of you. Would that I could do both and collect two rewards."
"No," said Innes suddenly."No. If he had come from the king to protect us, he would not have played this game. If he came from Lord Beryn to kill us..."
"I would have done it. Not blind at all."
"Tousle," said Innes urgently, "the people in this village, they fear Lord Beryn's Guard, not this man. And he wants the Guard not to know about us. Don't you see? Whatever he is doing, neither the king nor Lord Beryn knows about it."
The smile dropped from the King's Grip. "Be still, boy, or the hand that blinded you will be the hand that silences you forever. Yes, riddle upon riddle, this day of the world. The game thickens and thickens."
He drew his sword and grabbed my arm."I have a better tale to tell, a tale hidden from all but a few. The hidden tale of a tiny little man with a long tipped beard who came into the castle unnoticed by the king, by the Great Lords, by all of Lord Beryn's Guard. A tale about rooms of straw, a spinning wheel, skeins of gold thread, and the hands not of a queen but of a little man. Bales and bales of gold so fine, so perfect that no one had ever seen its like."
And then I knew."It's Da you want. Not us. Da."
"For years I've looked for him, boy, for years. Not a day has gone by when my spies did not haunt the palace, Wolverham, the countryside. For thirteen years they have stood in shadows, along dark paths, by the city gates, watching, waiting. Thirteen years is a long time to wait. Then, at the king's procession, the news came. He was back, and with a boy.
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