Dying of the Light

Jaan turned, weighed the scarred youth quickly with his eyes. 'I am Jaan Vikary,' he said, 'of the Ironjade Gathering.'

Bretan made his noise, his peculiar noise. There was an awkward silence.

'More properly,' Janacek said, 'my teyn is Jaantony Riv Wolf high-Ironjade Vikary. And I am Garse Ironjade Janacek.'

Now Bretan responded. 'Honor to your holdfast, honor to your teyn. I am Bretan Braith Lantry.'

'I would never have known,' Janacek said with the barest trace of a smile. 'We have heard of you.'

Jaan Vikary threw him a warning glance. There seemed to be something wrong with Jaan's face. At first Dirk thought it was a trick of the light-darkness was coming fast now-but then he saw that Vikary's jaw was slightly swollen on one side, giving his profile a puffed look.

'We come to you in high grievance,' said Bretan Braith Lantry.

Vikary looked at Chell. 'This is so?'

'It is so, Jaantony high-Ironjade.'

'I am sorry we must quarrel,' Vikary replied. 'What is the problem?'

'We must question you,' Bretan said. He put his hand on Dirk's shoulder. 'This one, Jaantony high- Ironjade. Tell us, is he korariel of Ironjade, or no?'

Now Garse Janacek grinned openly and his hard blue eyes met Dirk's, laughing just a little in their icy depths, as if to say, Well, well, what have you done now?

Jaan Vikary only frowned. 'Why?'

'Does your truth depend on our reasons, high-bond?' Bretan asked harshly. His scarred cheek twitched violently.

Vikary looked at Dirk. Clearly he was not pleased.

'You have no cause to delay or deny us your answer, Jaantony high-Ironjade,' Chell Daveson said. 'The truth is yes or the truth is no; there cannot be more to it than that.' The old man's voice was quite even; he at least had no nervousness to conceal, and his code dictated each word that he would say.

'Once you were correct, Chell fre-Braith,' Vikary began. 'In the old days of the holdfasts, truth was a simple matter, but these are new times and full of new things. We are a people of many worlds now, not simply of one, and so our truths are more complex.'

'No,' said Chell. 'This mockman is korariel or this mockman is not korariel. That is not complex.'

'My teyn Chell speaks the truth,' Bretan added. 'The question I have put to you is quite simple, high-bond. I demand your answer.'

Vikary would not be pushed. 'Dirk t'Larien is a man from the distant world of Avalon, far within the Tempter's Veil, a human world where I once studied. I did name him korariel, to give him my protection and the protection of Ironjade against those who would do him harm. But I protect him as a friend, as I would protect a brother in Ironjade, as a teyn protects a teyn. He is not my property. I make no claim to own him. Do you understand?'

Chell did not. The old man pressed his lips together beneath his little stiff mustache and mumbled something in Old Kavalar. Then he spoke aloud. Too loud, in fact, almost shouting. 'What is this nonsense? Your teyn is Garse Ironjade, not this strange one. How can you shield him as a teyn? Is he of Ironjade? He is not even armed! Is he a man at all? Why, if he is, he cannot be korariel; and if he is not and he is korariel, then you must own him. I do not hear any sense in your mockman words.'

'I am sorry of that, Chell fre-Braith,' Vikary said, 'but it is your ears that fail, and not my words. I try to do you honor, but you do not make it easy.'

'You jape me!' Chell said, accusingly.

'No.'

'You do!'

Bretan Braith spoke then, and his voice had none of Chell's anger, but it was very hard. 'Dirk t'Larien, as he calls himself and you call him, has done us wrong. This is the heart of the matter, Jaantony high-Ironjade. He has laid hands upon the property of Braith without any word of Braith permission. Now, who pays for this? If he is a mockman and korariel to you, then here and now I issue challenge. Ironjade has done wrong to Braith. If he is not korariel, then, well…' He stopped.

'I see,' Jaan Vikary said. 'Dirk?'

'For one thing, all I did was sit in the damned aircar for a second,' Dirk said uneasily. 'I was looking for a derelict, an abandoned car still in working order. Gwen and I found one like that in Kryne Lamiya, and I thought maybe I could find another.'

Vikary shrugged and looked at the two Braiths. 'It seems that small wrong has been done, if any. Nothing was taken.'

'Our car was touched!' old Chell bellowed. 'By him, by a mockman; he had no right! Small wrong, you call this? He might have flown it off. Would you have me close my eyes like a mockman and be thankful he did so little?' He turned to Bretan, his teyn. 'The Ironjades jape us, insult us,' he said. 'Perhaps they are not true men, but mockmen themselves. They are full of mockman words.'

Garse Janacek responded immediately. 'I am teyn to Jaantony Riv Wolf high- Ironjade, and I vouch for him. He is no mockman.' The words came quickly, a rote formula.

From the way that Janacek then looked toward Vikary, it seemed clear to Dirk that he expected his teyn to repeat the same words. Instead Jaan shook his head and said, 'Ah, Chell. There are no mockmen.'

He sounded immensely tired, and there was a slump to his broad shoulders.

The tall, elderly Braith looked as though Jaan had struck him. Again he muttered low hoarse words in Old Kavalar.

'This cannot go on,' Bretan Braith said. 'We get nowhere. Did you name this man korariel, Jaantony high-Ironjade?'

'I did.'

'I rejected the name,' Dirk said quietly. He felt compelled to, and the time seemed right. Bretan half turned and glared at him, and the Braith's green eye seemed to have as much fire in it as its glowstone counterpart.

'He rejected only the suggestion of property,' Vikary said very quickly. 'My friend asserted his humanity, but he still wears the shield of my protection.'

Garse Janacek grinned and shook his head. 'No, Jaan. You were not home this morning. T'Larien wants none of our protection, either. He said so.'

Vikary looked at him, furious. 'Garse! This is no time for jokes.'

'I do not joke,' said Janacek.

'It's true,' Dirk admitted. 'I said I could take care of myself.'

'Dirk, you do not know what you are saying!' Vikary said.

'For a change, I think I do.'

Bretan Braith Lantry made his noise, quite loudly and suddenly, while Dirk and the two Ironjades argued and his teyn Chell stood stiff with fury. 'Silence,' the sandpaper voice demanded, and it got it. 'This is of no consequence. Things are the same. You say he is human, Ironjade. If so, he cannot be korariel and you cannot protect him. If he wants it or no, you cannot protect him. My kethi will see that you do not.' He spun on his heel to face Dirk full front. 'I challenge you, Dirk t'Larien.' Everyone was quiet. Larteyn smoldered all around, and the wind was very cold. 'I meant no insult,' Dirk said, remembering words that the Ironjades had used at other times. 'Am I allowed to apologize, or what?' He offered his palms to Bretan Braith, up and open and empty.

The scarred face twitched. 'Insult was taken.'

'You must duel him,' Janacek said.

Dirk's palms sank slowly. At his side they became fists. He said nothing.

Jaan Vikary was staring at the ground mournfully, but Janacek was still animated. 'Dirk t'Larien knows nothing of the dueling customs,' he told the two Braiths. 'Such customs do not prevail on Avalon. Will you allow me