Lycanto went on speaking. 'I say once more that it is not easy, this matter. Not only does the Lady Taleen vouch for him, but she is cousin to me, and more important' she is daughter to King Voth of the North. Voth of Voth! I dare not offend Voth. You all know that. He is powerful and a great warrior, though aging now.'
He paused and looked around smiling wryly, his thick lips still moist from beer. 'If none of you can help me I must turn him over to the Drus. They will have an answer.'
'Thunor take the Drus!' It was the man Horsa again. He scowled and banged on the table with a huge fist. 'And Thunor take Voth as well. I fear not Voth. Nor the Drus. Why take a chance on a maid's word, Lycanto? Kill the rogue. If we are wrong, and he is no spy or warlock, then it is unfortunate but still no great matter. If I am right, and he is a spy, then we are rid of him. In any case, I vote we send his head to Redbeard, and have our own spies mark his reaction. So it might be proven one way or the other.'
Blade winced inwardly. It was not a system of justice for which he cared too much.
It was Cunobar who came to Blade's aid, a thing Blade was not to understand for many a day.
Cunobar's gray hair— again Blade thought it belied his age— glinted in the torches. He stood up and pointed a finger at Blade, at which all at the table turned and appeared to see the big stranger for the first time.
'I also thought him spy at first glance,' said Cunobar. 'And I saw him first, before any of you. I saw and I taxed the Lady Taleen that he might be spy. She denied it. If she could be here she would deny it now— '
'No doubt,' growled the man Horsa. 'I tell you she is bewitched of him. Who knows but that he plants his lies on her tongue?'
Cunobar held up a hand. 'As may be,' he went on smoothly, 'but the Lady Taleen cannot be here— as against tribal law— and we all know she suffers from the swooning sickness.'
'Another thing I do not understand,' muttered Horsa. He shot a malignant glance at the King. 'The wench was hearty enough when she came to Sarum Vil— and a glass later she is sick and swooning. How explain that to Voth, Lycanto? He will ask, make no doubt of it!'
The King paled, then reddened, but kept his tongue. He reached for his beer horn and drank heavily. There was a grumbling at the lower end of the table. Blade brightened and felt his chances increased. All was not well in Alb. There was weakness, dissension, and therein lay his opportunity. He must grasp it firmly, quickly, when the moment came.
Cunobar waved a placating hand. His voice, as silken smooth as the steel gray hair, filled the chamber. Blade listened with growing wonder. Why was Cunobar now advocate to him? The man had been surly and suspicious enough before. Again there could be only one answer— Taleen.
'If we bicker among ourselves,' said the graying man, 'nothing will ever come of it. This matter must be settled, and quickly, for the time water drips swiftly and Redbeard is on the march. We should be marching to meet him, yet we linger here on the fate of a single stranger.
'There is no need for this. It is all so simple, if we but see it so. I agree with Lycanto that we cannot afford to anger Voth of the North. So we do not anger him. I also agree that the Lady Taleen is his cousin, and that she be so treated. Yet we do not have to regard her word as straight from Thunor himself. There is no problem, my Lords! We have ancient law and in that law the answer is plain— we must give this stranger trial by single combat, so he stand or fall on it. Neither the lady, nor her father Voth, can find reason against that. Did not Voth himself proclaim, long ago, that no man is above the law? Can he then quarrel with his own words? Can his daughter?'
Cunobar the Gray paused and looked around the table. Lycanto was listening intently, nodding in approval. Horsa stared down at the table, his broad red face expressionless. The others muttered and whispered among themselves.
Cunobar was looking directly at Blade. There was a message in the glance, Blade would have sworn to it, yet one that he could not yet read.
Cunobar said, 'You all know our law. The man challenged has the right to pick the man he will fight.' His eyes met Blade's again, then moved to the man Horsa with a bare flicker of expression that might have masked a sneer.
'I vote,' said Cunobar, 'that we give this man Blade the right to prove himself in single combat. I say let him speak now and take free choice of the warrior he will fight to death. I ask for fists.'
Eight clenched fists shot upward. Lycanto did not vote. Horsa sat scowling for a moment, then reluctantly raised his fist.
'If you will all have it so, so must I. Yet it goes against me. We do not know this man. He may be serf, peasant, catiff or runaway slave— though I still think him a spy—
and there is no constraint that nobleman fight with one of low birth. I vote yes— but I think no.'
Cunobar laughed and pointed at Blade again. 'Look well at him. Does he have the look of a servant? Slave? I say not. Spy, maybe. Low born, no. But let him speak and judge for yourselves— you all know what the Drus tell us when they grow impatient with our ignorance. A man is fashioned of his words. If he speaks as a slave I will take back my vote and let him be flayed without a murmur.'
Cunobar had had audience with Taleen since their parting. That was certain. Even more certain was that Taleen had done all she could. As had Cunobar the Gray, for whatever reasons. Now it was up to Blade. But they had given him a weapon— his tongue.
Lycanto looked long at Blade before he said, 'You can speak now, stranger. By vote we grant this boon and we will listen with patience. But words will not save your life. You must fight one of us to the death. Pick that man as you will.'
Blade stood up. He swelled his chest and stood as tall as possible. Cunobar had tossed the cue deftly. These Albs loved words, and war, and he guessed that lies and bragging were condoned as long as the words were sweet and firm enough. He would give them that. He stalked to the fireplace and wheeled to face the table, his arms crossed and his head high, the fire casting his shadow long on the floor. The Dru selected a fresh square of bark and dipped her pen in the dye pot, and for a moment Blade caught the gleam of intelligent old eyes from the depths of the cowl.
Blade looked them up and down with scorn. A mastiff growled and Lycanto silenced the beast with a kick.
