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CHAPTER FOUR

The Praifec

A spar White fought to draw a breath, but he felt as if a giant hand were clenched around his throat. 'Sceat, this can't be right,' he managed to gasp out. 'Winna''

Winna rolled her blue eyes and shook her honey locks. 'Hush, Asp,' she admonished, 'don't be such a kindling. Haven't you ever worn a Fading collar before?'

'I've never worn any damn sort of collar before,' Aspar grunted. 'What's the point?'

'The point is, you're in Eslen, in the royal palace, not tramping through a heath in the uplands, and before the next bell you're going to see His Grace, the Praifec of all Crotheny. You've got to dress for the occasion.'

'But I'm just a holter,' he complained. 'Let me dress like one.'

'You killed the Black Warg and his bandit band, alone, with nothing but your bow, ax, and dirk. You fought a greffyn and lived. You mean to say now you're afraid to wear a simple set of weeds?'

'They aren't simple, I look stupid, and I can't breathe.'

'You haven't even seen yourself, and if you've got enough breath to whinge so, I'd say you're doing fine. Now here, come to the mirror.'

He raised his eyebrows. Winna's young face was broad with smile. Her hair was caught up in a black net of some sort, and she wore an azure gown that'to his mind'was cut far too low at the bodice. Not that the view didn't please, but it would please every other man who saw it, too.

'Well, you look'ah'pretty, at least,' he said.

'Surely I do. And so do you. See?' She turned him toward the mirror.

Well, he recognized the face, even with it shaved clean. Burned dark by the sun, scarred and worn by forty-one years of hard living, it might not be pretty, but it was the sort of face the king's holter ought to have.

From the neck down, he was a stranger. The tight, stiff collar was merely the most torturous part of a doublet made of some sort of brightly patterned cloth that ought to have ended up as a drape or a rug. Below that, his legs felt naked, clothed as they were in tight green hose. He felt altogether like a candied apple on a stick.

'Who ever thought of dressing like this?' He grunted. 'It's as if some madwoman tried to think of the most ridiculous outfit imaginable, and'Grim's eye'succeeded.'

'Madwoman?' Winna asked.

'Yah, well, no man would ever invent such a clownish suit. It must have been some sort of evil trick. Or a dare.'

'You've been at court long enough to know better,' Winna said. 'The men here love their plumage.'

'Yah,' he conceded, 'and I'm damn ready to be away from here, too.'

Her eyes narrowed a little, and she wagged an accusing finger. 'You're nervous about meeting the praifec.'

'I'm no such a thing,' he snapped.

'You are such a thing! A nervous little kindling thing!'

'I haven't had much to do with the Church, that's all,' he grumbled. 'Other than killing a few of their monks.'

'Outlaw monks,' she reminded him. 'You'll do fine, just try not to blaspheme'in other words, try not to talk at all. Let Stephen do the talking.'

'Oh, yah, that will be a comfort,' Aspar muttered sarcastically. 'He's the soul of tact.'

The Praifec

'He's a churchman, though,' Winna pointed out. 'He ought to know more about talking to a praifec than you do.'

That brought a sharp little laugh from near the door. Aspar glanced over to see that Stephen had entered and was leaning against the frame, clad much as he was but appearing far more comfortable. His mouth was quirked in a smile, and his brown hair was swept back in something approaching courtly fashion. 'I was in the Church,' Stephen said. 'Before committing heresy, disobeying my fratrex, getting him killed, and fleeing my monastery. I doubt much that His Grace the Praifec will have many good things to say to me.'

'Like as not,' Aspar agreed, 'we'll end this meeting in a dungeon.'

'Well,' Winna said, primly, 'at least we'll go well-dressed.'

Praifec Marche Hespero was a tall man of upper middle years. He had a narrow face made sharper by a small black goatee and mustache. His black robes were draped on a body to suit'thin, almost birdlike. His eyes were like a bird's, as well, Aspar reflected'like a hawk's or an eagles eyes.

He received them in a somber, spare room of gray stone with low-beamed ceilings.

In the baroque splendor of Eslen Castle, it seemed very much out-of-place. The praifec sat in an armchair behind a large table. To his left sat a dark-complexioned boy of perhaps sixteen winters, looking at least as uncomfortable in his courtly garb as Aspar felt. Other than that, Aspar, Winna, and Stephen were the only people in the chamber.

'Sit, please,' the praifec said pleasantly.

Aspar waited until Stephen and Winna took their chairs, then settled in the one that remained. Grim knew if it was the right one. If there was a right one. He still smarted from an incident with spoons at a banquet the nineday before. Who needed more than one sort of spoon?

When they were seated, the praifec rose and clasped his hands behind his back.

He looked at Aspar. 'Aspar White,' he said in a soft voice, soft as the fabric of Winna's dress. 'You've been the royal holter for

many years.'

'More years than I care to remember, Your Grace.'

The praifec smiled briefly. 'Yes, the years chase us, do they not? I put you at a man of some forty winters. It's been some time since I saw that age.' He shrugged. 'What we lose in beauty, we gain in wisdom, one hopes.'

'Ya'yes, Your Grace.'

'You've a distinguished career up until now, all in all. Several acts of an almost impossible sort'did you really sort out this Black Warg all by yourself?'

Aspar shifted uncomfortably. 'That's been made a bit much of,'

he said.

'Ah,' the praifec said. 'And the affair of the Relister?'

'He'd never fought a man with dirk and ax, Your Grace. His armor slowed him down.'

'Yes, I'm sure.' He glanced at a paper on the table. 'I see a few complaints, here, as well. What's this about the Greft of Ashwis?'

'That was a misunderstanding,' Aspar said. 'His lordship was mad with drink, and taking a firebrand to the forest.'

'Did you really bind and gag him?'

'The king saw it my way, sir.'

'Yes, eventually. But there's this thing with Lady Esteiren?'

Aspar stiffened. 'The lady wanted me for a holiday guide, Your Grace, which is in no way my charge. I tried to be polite.'

'And failed, it seems,' the praifec said, a touch of amusement in his voice.

Aspar started a reply, but the praifec held up his hand, shook his head, and turned to Stephen.

'Stephen Darige, formerly a fratir at the monastery d'Ef.' He peered down his nose at Stephen. 'You've made quite an impression on the Church during your very brief tenure with it, haven't you, Brother Stephen?'

Stephen frowned. 'Your Grace, as you know, the circumstances'' The praifec cut him off. 'You're from a family of good standing, I see. Educated at the college in Ralegh. An expert in antique languages, which you put to use at d'Ef translating forbidden documents, which translation'as I understand it, correct me if I get this wrong'

The Praifec

led both to the death of your fratrex and the commission of unspeakable acts of dark sorcery.'

'This is all true, Your Grace,' Stephen replied, 'but I did my work at the command of the fratrex. The dark sorcery was practiced by renegade monks, led by Desmond Spendlove.'

'Yes, well, you see, there's no proof of any of that,' the praifec pointed out.

'Brother Spendlove and his compatriots are all dead, as is Fratrex Pell. This is convenient for you, as there is no one to contradict your story.'

'Your Grace''

'And yet you admit to summoning the Briar King, whose appearance is said to foretell the end of the world.'

'It was an accident, Your Grace.'

'Yes. That will be small comfort if the world is actually in the process of ending, will it not?'

'Yes, Your Grace,' Stephen replied miserably.

'Nonetheless, your admission of guilt in that case goes far to suggest that you're telling the truth. Privately, I confess I had long suspected something was awry at d'Ef. The Church, after all, is made up of men and women, all of whom are fallible, and as prone to corruption as anyone. We are doubly on the watch now, you may be assured.'

He turned at last to Winna.

'Winna Rufoote. Hostler's daughter from Colbaely. Not a holter, not in the Church. How in Heaven did you become involved in all this?'

'I'm in love with this great lump of a holter, Your Grace,' she replied.

Aspar felt his face color.

'Well,' the praifec said. 'There's no accounting for such things, is there?'

'Likely not, Your Grace.'

'Yet you were with him when he tracked the greffyn, and at Cal Azroth when the Briar King appeared. You were also a captive of the Sefry, Fend, said to be responsible for much of what happened.'

'Yes, Your Grace.'

'Well.' His lips pressed into a thin line. 'I give you a choice, Winna Rufoote.

We are about to speak of things that cannot go beyond the walls of this room.

You may remain and become a part of something which could prove quite dangerous in several different ways'or you may leave, and I will have you escorted safely back to your father's inn in Colbaely.'

'Your Grace, I'm a part of this. I'll stay.' Aspar found himself standing suddenly. 'Winna, I forbid''

'Hush, you great bear,' Winna said. 'When could you ever forbid me?'

'This time I do!' Aspar said.

'Silence, please,' the praifec said. He focused his raptor eyes on Aspar. 'It's her choice.'

'And she's made it,' Winna said. 'Think carefully, my dear,' the praifec said.

'It's done, Your Grace,' Winna replied. The praifec nodded. 'Very well.'

He placed his hand on the shoulder of the boy, who had sat silent through all of this. He had black hair and eyes to match, and his skin was dark, darker than Aspar's.

'Allow me to present Ehawk, of the Wattau, a tribe from the Mountains of the Hare. You know of them, perhaps, Holter White.'

'Yah,' Aspar answered curtly. His mother had been Wattau, his father an Ingorn.

The child they bore had never been welcome in either village.

The praifec nodded again. 'The events you three have been a part of are of great concern to the Church, most especially the appearance of the so-called Briar King. Up until now, we have considered him to be nothing more than a folktale, a lingering superstition, perhaps inspired by an illiterate memory of the Warlock Wars or even the Captivity, before our ancestors broke the shackles of the demons who enslaved them. Now that he has appeared, of course, we must reassess the state of our knowledge.'

'If I may, Your Grace, my report',' Stephen began. 'I have read your reports, of course,' Hespero said. 'Your work on the subject is laudable, but you lack the full resources of the

The Praifec

Church. There is, in holy z'Irbina, a certain set of volumes which may be read only by His Holiness the Fratrex Prismo. Immediately on hearing of the events at Cal Azroth, I sent word to z'Irbina, and word has now come back to me.' He paused.

'Word and more,' he continued. 'I will explain that later. Anyway, at the time I did not feel that I could wait to hear from z'Irbina. I sent, under Church auspices, an expedition to track this'creature, and to learn more of it. The expedition was a strong one; a knight of the Church and five monks of Mamres.

They hired Ehawk in his village to act as a guide. Ehawk will now relate what he saw.'

'Ah,' Ehawk said. His accent was thick, and it was that of someone not used to speaking the king's tongue. 'Hello to you.' He fixed his eyes on Aspar. 'I've heard of you, Sir Holter. I thought you'd be taller. It's said your arrows are the size of spears.'

'I've shrunk down for His Grace,' Aspar grunted. 'What did you see, boy, and where did you see it?'

'It in the territory of the Duth ag Pae, near Aghdon. One of the monks'Martyn'heard something. And there they were.'

'They?'

'Men and women, but like beasts. They wore nothing; they carried no weapons.

They tore up poor Sir Oneu with their bare hands and teeth. A madness was upon them.'

'Where did they come from?'

'They were the Duth ag Pae, I'm sure of it. Maybe all of them, except no children. There were old people, though.' He shuddered. 'They ate the monks'

flesh as they killed them.'

'Do you know what might have driven them to madness?'

'It's not just them, Sir Holter. As I fled, I came across village after village, all abandoned. I hid in holes and under leaves, but they found my horse and tore her up. I heard them at night, singing songs in no speech of the mountains.'

'But you escaped them.'

'Yah. When I left the forest, I left them. I came here because Martyn wished it.'

'Martyn was one of my most trusted servants,' the praifec amplified, 'and very powerful in Mamres.'

'What sort of madness sweeps whole villages?' Stephen wondered.

'The old women'' Ehawk began; then his voice trailed off. 'It's all right, Ehawk,' the praifec said reassuringly. 'Speak what you will.'

'It's one of the prophecies. They said that when the Etthoroam wakes, he will claim all in the forest for his own.'

'Etthoroam,' Stephen said. 'I've seen that name. It's what your people name the Briar King.'

Ehawk nodded.

'Aspar,' Winna murmured. 'Colbaely is in the King's Forest. My father. My family.'

'Colbaely is far from the country of the Duth ag Pae,' Aspar said.

'How does that matter, if what this boy says is true?'

'She has a point,' Stephen said.

'They are not confined to the depths,' the praifec said. 'We've had reports of fighting in towns all along the edge of the King's Forest, at least in the east.'

'Your Grace, you must pardon me,' Aspar said.

'For what crime?'

'Pardon me to leave. I'm the king's holter. The forest is in my charge. I have to see this for myself.'

'Yes, to that second point I agree. As to the first'you are no longer the king's holter.'

'What?'

'I petitioned His Majesty to have you placed under my command. I need you, Aspar White. No one knows the forest as you do. You've faced the Briar King and lived'not once, but twice.'

'But he's been a holter all his life!' Stephen exploded. 'Your Grace, you can't just'!'

The praifec's voice was suddenly not soft. 'I most certainly can, Brother Darige. I can and I have. And in point of fact, your friend is still a holter'the Church's holter. What greater honor could he hope for?'

'But',' Stephen began again.

The Praifec

'If it's all the same, Stephen,' Aspar said quietly, 'I can speak for myself.'

'Please do,' the praifec urged.

He looked the praifec straight in the eye. 'I don't know much about courts or kings or praifecs,' he admitted. 'I'm told I have few manners, and those I have are bad ones. But it seems to me, Your Grace, that you might have asked me before telling me.'

Hespero stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. 'Very well. You have a point.

I suppose I was letting my anxiety for the people of Crotheny and the greater world muddy my concern for the personal wishes of one man. I can always ask the king to change his decree'so I'll ask you now.'

'What exactly is it Your Grace is requesting?'

'I want you to go to the King's Forest and discover what is really happening there. I want you to find the Briar King, and I want you to kill him.'

A moment's silence followed the praifec's words. He sat there, watching them as if he had just asked that they go hunting and return with some fresh deer meat.

'Kill him,' Aspar said carefully, after a moment.

'Indeed. You killed the greffyn, did you not?'

'And it nearly killed Aspar,' Winna interjected. 'It would have killed him, except that the Briar King somehow healed him.'

'You're sure of that?' the praifec said. 'Do you discount the saints and their work so easily? They do keep an eye on human affairs, after all.'

'The point is, Your Grace,' Stephen said, 'that we do not know precisely what happened that day, what the Briar King is, or what he truly portends. We don't know that the Briar King should be slain, and we do not know if he can be slain.'

'He can be slain, and he must be slain,' Hespero said. 'This can slay him.' He lifted a long, narrow leather case from behind his desk. It looked old, and Aspar saw some sort of faded writing stamped on it.

'This is one of the most ancient relics of the Church,' the praifec said. 'It has been waiting for this day, and for someone to wield it. The Fratrex Prismo cast the auguries, and the saints have revealed their will.'

He opened one end of the case and gingerly withdrew an arrow.

Its head glittered, almost too brightly to be looked at.

'When the saints destroyed the Old Gods,' Hespero said, 'they made this and gave it to the first of the Church fathers. It will kill anything that has flesh'beast canny or uncanny, or ancient, pagan spirit. It may be used seven times. It has already been used five.'

He replaced the arrow in the case and folded his hands before him.

'The madness Ehawk witnessed is the doing of the Briar King. The auguries say it will spread, like ripples in a pool, until all the lands of men are engulfed by it. Therefore, by command of the most holy senaz of the Church and the Fratrex Prismo himself, I am ordered to see that this shaft finds the heart of the Briar King. That, Aspar White, is the charge and the duty I am asking you to take up.'