“One of those you call Wanderers often visits me,” said the witch pleasantly. That is, Roric thought the tone was meant to be pleasant; it was so hard to tell without seeing a face. “I knew him long ago, when he was young- knew him very well, you might say. So he asks favors of me and tells things to me, and sometimes I guess even what he has no intention of telling.”
“I didn’t know the Wanderers were ever young,” said Karin.
“Oh, yes, both small and young. Tell me, Karin Kardan’s daughter,” in an apparent change of topic, “have you borne children?”
“Not yet,” said Karin slowly, and Roric thought that she, like he, must be wondering aghast if this strange creature was a Wanderer’s mother.
“Sometimes I wonder,” said the witch thoughtfully, “if their plan has any chance of success-and I think he wonders as well, though so far he still supports it, as much as he ever supports anything.”
“Does their plan involve us?” asked Karin in a small voice.
They had been maneuvered, Roric thought grimly, into coming all the way here in order to rescue Valmar from the lords of voima, and all the time the lords of voima had known exactly what they were doing, were delighted to have them do it, and had no intention of letting Valmar be rescued. His eyes ached from trying to see, his muscles ached from the fights of the last few days, yet more than anything his spirit ached for a clear goal ahead of him.
“Certainly they need mortals, and you seemed like a good first choice, Roric No-man’s son,” said the witch. “But I am not sure, now, if they still want you, or if the mortal they have will do… I must say, I do not like these changes any better than they do, but I would have thought there was a better solution than introducing death into immortal realms.”
The witch fell silent for a moment, and Roric squeezed Karin’s hand. They had stumbled into a crisis of the lords of voima, a great shifting and change that might affect all mortals as well as the Wanderers themselves, and he wanted no part in it. He had gone into immortal realms originally because he wanted to do something to make himself worthy of Karin, but now he would be satisfied with having the blood-guilt removed and she beside him.
Karin seemed determined to keep the witch talking, though little they had heard seemed of use to Roric. But women, he thought, always liked talking. “You keep referring to changes, to upheavals- We mortals, I am afraid, know little of these. What is that the Wanderers fear?”
“It was probably a mistake separating them into two,” said the witch quietly, its voice very old. “But you mortals had always been separate, and so we modeled our new world on yours.
“Once you humans stopped living wild in the woods and began to group together in permanent dwellings,” the witch continued, “we thought it would be better for you to be guided by beings more in your own image, beings who lived in their own realm which we made for them so that you would not be terrified by having lords and ladies of voima constantly among you. But now they do not create their successors, as we always did. The Hearthkeepers neither gave birth to their successors nor slid away gracefully when fate ordained the end of their time of dominance. And now they wish to rule again. If our children only replace each other the cycle will lead not to progress but to stagnation, for it will never be resolved…”
“Excuse me,” said Karin slowly, “but I don’t understand you. Who is it who have separated?”
“The Wanderers and the second force,” said Roric when the witch did not answer.
Karin looked at him, her eyes dark shadows. When she spoke he could not tell if she were addressing him or the witch. “Tell me, then. Are the members of the second force women?”
“Of course not,” said Roric.
And, “Of course they are,” said the witch at the same time.
“I fought them,” said Roric, “in the Wanderers’ realm. They weren’t women. They wore horned helmets.”
“They, too, have decided to try something different,” said the witch, again almost wearily. “They have decided to use men’s own weapons against them. They did not ask me, although I could have told them. It will make no difference.”
Roric tried to picture again the warriors who had attacked both him and the band of trolls with him. It had never occurred to him at the time that they might not be men, and he did not like the idea that women had matched swords with him.
“So neither the Wanderers nor the Hearthkeepers will listen to you?” asked Karin sympathetically. “In spite of all your wisdom and experience, even when they’re wrong, they insist on doing things their own way?”
Roric thought with a start that he had heard Karin speak just that way to King Hadros, when the king’s sons-or even he himself-had done something that angered the king.
It appeared to be nearly as effective on the witch as it was on Hadros. “Maybe we should have tried raising up mortals instead,” it said, sounding slightly less weary. “You come and go so quickly it never seemed worthwhile, but maybe you would listen to wisdom.”
Roric said to himself that he had no intention of listening to anyone, king or Wanderer, who wanted to tell him what to do, but he stayed silent, waiting to see what Karin would discover.
“We have heard the stories, of course,” she said, “that before the Wanderers ruled earth and sky there was a reign of women who ruled with all the powers of voima. But do you mean that before them beings like you ruled? How long has this been happening?”
“Long enough for us not only to give way but to change,” said the witch in a low tone. “I may be the only one left who still remembers how it was before the creation of the realms of voima and the separation of those who rule earth and sky into men and women. And I myself am not remembered, living here away from mortals and immortals alike, except of course for the dragon.”
“I want to understand this,” said Karin slowly. Roric did too, and it still made no sense. “Before the Wanderers and the second force appeared, there used to be cycles of creatures of voima more like yourself. But what happened to all of you when fate ended your rule? You didn’t die? You changed instead?”
“We changed as you say, Karin Kardan’s daughter. Even the other creatures of voima in the earth may not remember us anymore, though they remember the upheavals and the change. Many of us are built into the very foundations of the realms of voima, so that that land is made from the sleeping forms of its creators.”
Karin said after a moment’s pause, “So the women of the second force are trying to use armed might to defeat the Wanderers, so they may replace them, they hope, forever this time. And the Wanderers hope to use death, which has never before entered immortal realms, to overcome the women, so that they themselves will not be replaced now or ever.”
“And the Wanderers want mortals because we have access to Hel,” said Roric. “Maybe in that case we should try to help the second force instead.”
The witch chuckled. “Oh, they would be happy to have you, Roric No-man’s son. Both sides are working out their plans in ways that involve mortals. This decision to use death will be the Wanderers’ second effort to ensure that they create their own succession, after their first effort resulted only in hollow men of which they are now trying to rid themselves.”
Roric set his jaw, more determined than ever not to allow the one life he had to be diverted into some game played among the immortals.
“But you see more clearly than any of them do,” said Karin. “What can they do, if neither side wants the other to rule at all, and yet neither side can triumph?”
“If they asked me,” said the witch, “I would tell them. They could try once again uniting into one, as they were meant to do.”
The witch went back then to tugging at the weaving, and although Karin tried a few more questions it either did not hear or did not want to answer. She and Roric retreated to the far side of the room and whispered. He did not know whether the witch could overhear them or not; the lords of voima had seemed to know less than he expected, and even this much older creature did not appear omniscient. But if the witch could see all in its weaving and mirrors, then it did not matter if they whispered or shouted.
“I do not, ” said Karin, low and intense in his ear, “want to get involved in this quarrel among the immortals.”
Roric was relieved to hear this; she had sounded so sympathetic that he had been afraid for a moment that she was going to propose trying to bring the sides back together. Even while they had headed north he had vaguely
