sorry, I won't protect you from your neighbor, even if you want me to'?'
Marlanz looked unhappy. 'I knew that was foolish,' he muttered; Gerin didn't think he was supposed to hear. Aragis' envoy gathered himself. 'Lord king, I'm sorry, but I don't have a lot of room to wiggle here. King Aragis has told me to tell you that, if Balser becomes your vassal, it will mean war between the two of you.'
'Then it will be war.' Gerin slapped Marlanz on the back and waved him toward Castle Fox. 'We don't have to start killing each other quite yet, I don't think. Why don't you come into the great hall and drink some ale with me, eat some bread, and we'll see what else we can scare up for you.'
'I'll do that right gladly,' Marlanz said. 'You brewed a fine ale the last time I was here, lord king, and you're not the sort to let something like that slip. And you have a name all through the northlands for feeding your guest- friends well.'
'I probably earned it when I managed to get you out of my keep before you ate the larder empty-just before,' Gerin said. Marlanz laughed, although, like most of Gerin's jokes, that one had a hard core of truth. 'Come on,' the Fox urged, and they walked into the great hall side by side.
Van of the Strong Arm, Rihwin the Fox, and Carlun Vepin's son sat at a table near the hearth, and near the altar to Dyaus Allfather in front of it. A tarred-leather jack of ale sat in front of each of them. Van was also gnawing a roast rib of mutton. As Gerin and Marlanz walked in, the big outlander tossed it into the rushes on the floor to watch a couple of dogs squabble over it.
'By all the gods, it's Marlanz Raw-Meat,' Van rumbled, recognizing Aragis' envoy. He rose from the bench and strode up to clasp Marlanz's hand. As they did whenever they met, the two big men studied each other. Gerin studied them both. The golden-haired outlander was taller and broader through the shoulders, but he was also older, being within a year or two either way of the Fox's age. At his peak, he'd been stronger than Marlanz-he'd been stronger than anyone Gerin had ever known. But Marlanz, a decade younger, was closer to his own peak, which had also been formidable. If the two of them fought… Gerin didn't know what would happen. That was strange. In the more than twenty years since Van had come to Fox Keep, he'd always been sure his friend could best anyone merely human. Now Now we're getting old, Gerin thought. Strength goes. He smiled to himself. Guile, though, guile endures. Aloud, he said, 'Marlanz says Aragis will go to war with us if Balser gives me homage and fealty.'
'He's welcome to try it,' Van said. 'I don't think he'll be so happy afterwards, though.' A few years earlier, he would have whooped with glee at the prospect of a fight. He still didn't shrink from itGerin couldn't imagine him shrinking from a fight-but he no longer rushed toward it like a man rushing toward his beloved.
'My king is not happy about it now,' Marlanz answered, 'but he will not shrink from it, not if that means seeing his own rights overthrown.'
That made Rihwin the Fox speak up: 'In good sooth, King Aragis has no right pertaining to the holding of Balser Debo's son, it never having been a fief of his.'
'I said the same thing,' Gerin told him, 'but not half so prettily.'
'You have not the advantages of a noble upbringing south of the High Kirs,' Rihwin replied, as if forgiving his fellow Fox for flaws beyond his control. After two decades in the northlands, Rihwin still clung to the elaborate phrasing he'd learned at the heart of the Elabonian Empire, and to the gold hoop he wore in his left ear, an affectation to which the rest of Gerin's vassals had never quite accommodated themselves.
Marlanz looked from Rihwin to Gerin and back again. 'As I have noted before, he has the right to keep a stronger neighbor from taking advantage of a weaker one.'
'As I noted before,' Gerin said pointedly, 'if Aragis weren't a strong neighbor liable to take advantage of a weaker one, Balser wouldn't be interested in having me as his lord.'
'If you told him as much out there,' Van said, 'did you bring him in here to tell it to him over again?'
'As a matter of fact, I brought him in here for some ale and some bread and whatever we can pry out of the kitchen in the way of meat,' Gerin said. He slapped Aragis' vassal on the shoulder again. 'Sit you down, Marlanz. If Aragis and I have to fight, we'll fight. Meanwhile, you're my guest-friend.'
Servants brought Marlanz a drinking jack, a round of flatbread, and some ribs like the one Van had been gnawing. Carlun Vepin's son, Gerin's steward, looked as if he was calculating the cost of everything. And so, no doubt, he was: the Fox wouldn't have wanted him for the job if he didn't keep track of every jar of ale, sack of beans, and barrel of salt pork.
Whatever Carlun thought, he kept it to himself while warriors other than Gerin were around. He was no fighting man. He'd been the headman of the serf village close by Fox Keep till Gerin caught him cheating on the records there, trying to hold back produce from his overlord's notice. That had earned him both a promotion and a warning about what would happen if the Fox ever caught him cheating again. Either he hadn't cheated since or he'd done it too well for Gerin to have noticed. The Fox didn't think Carlun was clever enough to get away with that; he almost but not quite hoped he was wrong.
Marlanz made eyes at one of the serving women. Gerin happened to know she was newly married, and happy with her husband. She kept on serving Aragis' envoy, but did nothing to encourage him, and twisted away before he had the chance to pull her down onto his lap.
He glanced over to Gerin. 'You always did give your serfs a lot of say in what they should do to keep your guests happy.'
'I haven't changed,' the Fox answered. 'Far as I can see, forcing them to bed men they don't want only causes trouble. If she's interested in you, Marlanz, that's fine. If she's not, maybe you can find someone else who is.'
Marlanz didn't make an issue of it. Gerin remembered how he'd been inclined to do just that, the first time he came up to Fox Keep. Yes, he'd learned a thing or two over the intervening fifteen years. And, of course, since he was fifteen years older himself, he didn't burn so hot as he had then, either.
'I passed the night at your son's holding on my way up to your keep here, lord king,' Marlanz remarked, changing the subject with a smoothness he hadn't had as a younger man. 'He seems to be shaping into a fine baron in his own right.'
'For which I thank you,' Gerin said. 'Aye, I think Duren's a splendid lad. Of course, being his father, I'd think that even if it weren't so.'
'Well, it is,' Marlanz said. 'And I didn't see any signs that his vassal barons are anything but what they ought to be, either. You had some trouble with that, as I recall.'
'A bit,' the Fox admitted. Duren held his holding as grandson to the previous baron, Ricolf the Red, not as Gerin's son. Ricolf's petty barons had been anything but enthusiastic about accepting him, partly because they feared Gerin's influence and partly because, with Ricolf gone, they'd had hopes of escaping vassalage altogether and setting up on their own. As far as Gerin could see, the hope had obviously been foolish, but that hadn't kept them from having it. A lot of the hopes men had were obviously foolish to everyone but them.
'Aye, Duren's a fine young fellow.' Marlanz cocked his head to one side. 'Is he the heir to your kingdom, or is that Dagref whom I saw out in the courtyard with you?'
'Yes,' Gerin answered, and let Marlanz make whatever he would of it. Duren was his son by Elise, Ricolf's daughter. He hadn't seen her since Duren was a toddler; she'd run away with a traveling horse doctor. Dagref, his sister Clotild, and his brother Blestar were his by Selatre, the former Sibyl at the farseeing god Biton's shrine down at Ikos. The Fox sighed. Life was never so simple as you wished it would be.
'Yes to which?' Marlanz demanded: he was, Gerin knew, persistent. The Fox just smiled at him. After a bit, Aragis' vassal figured out he wouldn't get a straight answer. He smiled back, shrugged, and emptied his jack of ale. A serving woman-not the one he'd tried to pawrefilled it for him.
Gerin took a pull at his own ale. He wondered where Dagref had gone. His eldest child by Selatre had a curiosity as fierce and ruthless as a longtooth: he should have been besieging Marlanz with every sort of question. The Fox wondered what he'd found more interesting than the arrival of a near-stranger.
Had it been Duren at the same age, Gerin would have guessed he was off with a girl. But Dagref's curiosity was, as yet, more of the intellect than of the body. One day soon, the Fox suspected, a serving girl would kick his feet out from under him. What happened after that would be interesting.
No sooner had Gerin thought of his son than Dagref, as if summoned, came running into the great hall. He spared Marlanz Raw-Meat no more than a hasty glance. 'Father, come quick, out back by the stables,' he exclaimed. 'It's Ferdulf again.'
'Oh, by the gods,' Gerin said, which, where Ferdulf was concerned, had alarmingly literal implications. The
