But it was also Goldmane who had carried him away from the horned warriors and had brought him home.
And he had something else he needed to know. “When you say my steel will harm you but little here, do you mean it would do greater damage in the Wanderers’ realm?”
The troll did not answer his question and did not even laugh. “Be proud of your association with the Wanderers if you like, Roric No-man’s son,” it said indistinctly. “But be careful wandering these hills at night if I am not well fed.” It gave a booming belch, and then it did chuckle again.
Roric made a wide circle around it, his sword still in his hand. Ahead of him through the trees he could see faint lights from Hadros’s castle. Soon he would learn if he had really been gone for close to four weeks-or, he thought grimly, even for several months.
An oak tree around the back of the castle reached a branch toward the top of the wall. Roric scrambled up it, as he had many times since he was a boy, coming home after the gates were already shut and not wanting to have to knock and explain himself. With luck, he would find Karin before he had to talk to anyone else.
Hadros had neglected things like the oak branch since the end of the war, he thought with a hard smile as he dropped inside the wall. If he had been a scout for an invading army he would have had the gates open for his companions in no time.
Even in the dark, he knew the castle like he knew his own skin. He slipped across the courtyard, hearing the voices of maids and of housecarls from the hall. Flickering firelight came through the open doorway. He was slightly surprised, because normally the maids did not sit with the warriors and housecarls in the evening, instead retreating to the weaving house or the bake house. He glanced in both in search of Karin and found them dark and empty. In the bath house, even the stones were cold.
And certain voices seemed to be missing. He stood close by the doorway into the hall, listening. He could not hear the king’s deep voice, which usually rose over all the other men’s. And now that he thought about it, he also did not hear Valmar or Gizor One-hand, though both of them might long sit silent on the bench in the evening. But he thought he heard Nole, the king’s youngest son, his voice high and excited.
As he hesitated outside the hall, he heard in the distance the sound of hooves. He slipped across the courtyard again to look out through the crack along the edge of the gate. A band of men, carrying torches that lit up the night, were riding up the hill toward the castle. Their harnesses jingled, and all of them had shields slung from their saddles.
And the man in the lead was King Hadros. Roric stepped back into the shadows with a smile as the king pounded his fist on the gate. He would let the king enter his hall before surprising him with his own return.
“I am home!” roared the king. “Open the gate!”
The housecarls poured out of the hall. “They’re home! They’re home from the All-Gemot!”
The All-Gemot. Roric had completely forgotten about it. It was still ten days or so in the future when he rode away, which meant he really had been gone under a month, not the entire summer. That at least was a relief. He wondered if he would have accompanied Hadros if he had been here; he had been among the king’s warriors at the All-Gemot the last few years.
The big gate swung open, and the king and his warriors came through. Gizor One-hand was among them. Roric mingled with the back of the crowd as Dag and Nole hurried forward to greet their father, and as housecarls took the horses and baggage. Roric thought it a little surprising that no one seemed to notice him.
“But where is Valmar?” he heard Dag ask. “And where is Karin?”
“They are in Kardan’s kingdom,” said Hadros. From his tone it was impossible to tell if he was pleased or not. “Karin will stay, because some day she will be sovereign queen there.”
“And Valmar?”
“I shall tell you when I’ve had something to eat. You!” to one of the maids. “Is there no one here who will offer a man food in his own home? Karin would have had something hot ready for us,” he grumbled, heading into the hall.
King Kardan. That was Karin’s father. Roric went into the hall with the rest, forgetting to keep himself hidden although still no one seemed to pay him any attention. She had told him, of course, that she was her father’s heiress now, something the faeys seemed to find very exciting, but it was like having half the castle suddenly disappear to have her gone.
Tonight he would not bother the king, hungry and tired as he was. But in the morning he would ask to be released from his oath of loyalty to him. Since Hadros had tried to have him killed anyway, he should be happy to have him go. Then he would go to Karin and offer himself to her as her warrior as well as her lover.
He tried uneasily to remember where Kardan’s kingdom was. He knew it was somewhere across the channel, but he had never crossed the channel in his life.
The king’s younger sons asked about Valmar again once Hadros and the warriors who had accompanied him had wolfed down bread and cheese and stewed mushrooms and had started the ale horn around for the second time.
“Well,” said the king slowly, leaning back on the bench with his elbows behind him on the table. “Valmar will stay in Kardan’s kingdom this summer with Karin. In a few weeks I shall return there with suitable betrothal gifts, and they shall be married after the harvest.”
There was a shocked silence. “I’ve gotten back just in time,” thought Roric.
The king’s younger sons were nearly as surprised as he was. “Did- Did you decide for them, Father?” Dag asked at last, hesitantly as though fearing his father was about to choose a wife for him as well.
“No, although I am well pleased with their decision.” The king showed his teeth in a smile for a second. “It seems they had fallen in love themselves, something Karin, that sly lass, tried to keep from me. Valmar,” with a shrug, “was happy enough to fall in with her plans.”
“But she does not love Valmar!” cried Roric. “She is in love with me!”
No one appeared to hear him.
The maids and housecarls began talking at once about the upcoming marriage, until Hadros looked up with a frown. “Enough of this chatter. I shall not have those who serve the royal family engage in idle talk about us. Karin and Valmar will be married here and live here at least half the year, until her father dies. Or I,” mostly under his breath. “That is all you need to know.”
The men started drifting off toward the loft house, some of them still speculating-and once they were out of Hadros’s hearing, in language he would never have tolerated-about how far Karin’s and Valmar’s love had progressed. The consensus seemed to be that Valmar was quite a lad to have won the cool princess.
Roric went up to the king, who was yawning now and pulling off his boots. “I meant to wait until tomorrow to speak to you,” he said, “but I can wait no longer.”
Hadros looked straight through him and unbuckled his sword belt.
Roric leaned against the wall for support. No wonder no one had said anything to him. No one could see or hear him. He had returned from the Wanderers’ realm but returned in such a form that he might as well not be here.
He wandered out of the hall, picking up a piece of cheese and eating it distractedly as he went-at least food was still real to him. “But the troll could see me,” he thought.
How far did this extend? Would others still be able to feel him? Would a sword still cut him?
He followed the warriors and housecarls up the ladder to the men’s loft. Someone bumped against him in the dark and said, “Excuse me.” So he could still be felt then, even if not seen.
Exhausted and shaken, he stretched out in the straw. Invisible, he would have to stow aboard a ship across the channel in the hope that once there he could find Karin and her kingdom even though no one would hear when he asked directions. But what good would it do him to be there, the silent and unseen observer, if Karin and Valmar really were in love?