King Edward, Part IXAnonymoushistoryghosts) 4 1#t(%-t1t6:>CGLKing Edward, Chapter IXKing Edward, Chapter IX:Luck Edward knelt behind Moraelyn, leaning over his shoulder so that he could see the cardsthe elf held. He was sitting away from the fire, so it was darkfor human eyes, but Moraelyn was the only one of the groupwho would allow Edward to see his hand. The other players,Beech, Mith and Mats said Edward brought them bad luck.Moraelyn said that it was not really a question of luck, but that their hands were reflected in Edward's face forthose that had the eyes to see such images. It was too dark forBeech and Mats to see Edward now, and Moraelyn blocked himfrom Mith's view. And yet, the pile of coins in front ofMoraelyn had grown smaller since Edward had taken a placebehind him. But this time he had been dealt a good hand.Edward could see that. It was Mats' turn. He was cogitating. "You're shivering, son," Moraelyn said, "Have you nowarmer clothing? We must find something for you. Here, come share mycloak, then. You can hold the cards if you like." The wind waschill; there was a bite to it now that they were farther northand the year had grown older. Edward accepted the shelterof Moraelyn's arm and warm fur cloak and sat close against hisside. "I think I'll just play the cards I hold," Mats said atlast, and pushed a pile of coins into the pot, then withsudden resolve, added a few more. "There." "Throw the hand down, Edward, we're through." "But there aren't many better hands than what we've got!"Edward protested. "Edward!" Moraelyn growled. "Well, how'm I s'posed to learn?" Mats didn't have to showhis cards unless they matched his bet. "By watching. Silently. Oh, very well. No one ever told me that fatherhood came cheaply."He shoved most of his coins into the pot to match Mats' bet andEdward laid the hand down. "Ah," Mats said, "you needn't do that, my friend. I'll showthe boy my cards for free." "You filthy Nord," Moraelyn said in disgust, "put downyour cards and take my gold, if you can beat my hand. Let'ssee if I'm the one who needs educating on how to play thisgame." "You don't," Mats grinned. "Except that you could have accepted my generous offer instead of throwing an insult at me." Mats laid down the perfect hand called TheLadies. "A taunt like that rates an insult. Mats, that hand isalmost worth the viewing price. Five beautiful Ladies! Youdon't see them together every day; they're not that fond ofone another's company." "How'd you know?" Edward demanded. "Ah, that'd be telling," Moraelyn grinned. "Some thingsyou're supposed to learn for yourself. That's part of thegame. But remember that a good hand's worthless if someone else holds a better." "I'm sorry." Edward looked ruefully at the few remaining coins. "No matter. It's foolish to play with Mats on those nightswhen the God of Luck himself stands at his shoulder and all Ihave at mine is a runaway Breton prince who should be in his bed. He'd have had that money off me i' the end. This waywe'll get a bit of sleep." "Spoilsport," Mats grumped. "It's not every night Saivisits me and I do enjoy his presence." "He can leave as quickly as he comes. Sai's not someone youwant to get overfond of, Mats." "Who should know that better than I? Nay, do not apologize.I appreciate your concern for me, my friend. It's notaltogether unwarranted, but I am mindful of the temptation.I know how undependable Sai's favor is, and how capricious.I play only among my friends, whom I do trust." "Goodnight, then." Moraelyn and Mith went off to join those who werealready asleep, leaving Mats and Beech and Edward by thefire. The dark elves' natural sleep pattern was a period offive or six hours during the day, and a short nap of two or three hours after midnight. Now that they weretravelling, they were sleeping only at night, which was adifficult adjustment for Mith and Moraelyn, who had to usespells to cope with it. Edward had slept a bit as soon asthey had stopped for the night, while the others preparedsupper. In consequence he was now wide awake. Beech was yawning. Mats seemed to require less sleep than the rest. "Tell me about Sai, Mats. I've never heard of him before. Ididn't know there was a god of luck. I thought luck justhappened." "Being as you're Breton, I can understand that. Bretonslike things explained, clear and reasonable, in sequence, soone thing follows from another, and you know where you are.Most gods are like that. They lay down rules and if you obeythem and pay homage to the god, why then he or she grants youfavor. And the better you keep the rules and the more youworship the god, the higher you rise in his favor. Those rulesaren't always easy to keep, and one god's rules may requireyou to violate another's but you know where you are. Well, Sai's not like that. He's not a daedra, but he's got adaedric side to him, for sure. One thing, if you worship himtoo much, he'll abandon you altogether. They call it 'Sai'sAffliction'. It's an overwhelming desire for the god'sconstant presence. My father suffered from it, poor man.The disease is more than just a desire for the god's presence.The sufferers require continual proof of the god's favor.So they gamble incessantly. Not to win, for all they dowith winnings is keep on gambling until they lose. Then theydo what they must to raise a stake so they can gamble again. "Oh, it's a terrible thing. Terrible. My father sold me as aslave because of it. Later he sold my oldest sister. Then,when he was in debt yet again, he killed himself in one of hisrare lucid moments when he could see what was happening to him. What he was doing to hisfamily, himself. 'Course I was just a kid when I was sold. Ididn't understand. I thought it was because of some fault of mine that I'd beensent away, laziness or stupidity or disobedience, and that if I'd only been a better son it wouldn'ta happened. That's Auriel's way. It's intended that childrenshould respect their parents and learn from them, but someparents aren't deserving of respect. Well, it was asickness in him, so my mother says. I don't know that heshould be blamed for it, any more than if he had red plagueor leprosy. I believe her, yet sometimes I still feel it was my fault. Well, that was bad luckyou might say. But Sai sent me Moraelyn and that was a luckyday indeed. "What other god would put it into his head to stop one humanfrom beating on another? Any other elf in Tamriel wouldhave turned away in disgust or stopped to watch and laughat the stupid humans. Two dark elf kids against four grownNords, and for all they knew I deserved what I was getting. Icould have been a thief or murderer. I suppose I was a thief.I'd stolen myself, so to speak." "Moraelyn can't say himself why he did it. He says he wasspoiling for a fight that day and seeing slavecatchers onMorrowind soil did nothing to ease his temper. That's why Isay: it was Sai. But it was Moraelyn that listened to thegod. "There's no doubt it's a grand thing to feel Sai's hand onyour shoulder. It's like riding the finest horse, like loveitself. You're one with the world, and everything goes yourway, everything's on your side, instead of being theconstant struggle that life really is. You don't have tobe smart or handsome or kind or witty. Things just go your way. If you do something dumb it doesn'tmatter. It'll turn out to be the right thing to have done.Lucky. Some folks do seem to be born lucky, others unlucky. I don't know why. Most everyone feels Sai's presencesometimes, I guess. You have, haven't you?" Edward shook his head. He'd no idea what Mats was talkingabout. "Well, it's a kind of greed, I guess, this Sai's Affliction.You see, there's only so much luck to spread around, and if afew folks got it all, there'd be none left for the rest. Liketonight, I won that last pot, but the others had to lose it.Everyone can't win with Sai. That's not true with other gods,not necessarily. You still don't understand, do you?Would you like to hear a story about Sai?" Edward nodded. Mats was a good-natured fellow, butusually quite silent. Edward had thought him rather stupid.Mats' luck at cards seemed to have loosened his tongue, andnow Edward saw that he thought a lot more than he talked. * * * Long, long ago, when people were fewer and wolves morenumerous than now a young widow named Josea lived smack inthe middle of what is now the province of Skyrim. She was anordinary sort of woman, neither plain nor pretty. She had smooth brown hair, warm brown eyes, a short nose, afull round face, and body to match. She'd been born theonly child of peasant farmers. Her parents had been carriedoff by typhoid when she was seventeen. Shortly afterwards shehad married Tom, a strong young woodcutter with a cheerfuldisposition and a roving eye. He'd gotten her pregnantquickly, then turned his attentions elsewhere. Shortly before the babe was duehe'd been killed by the local goldsmith who'd come homeunexpectedly, found the handsome woodcutter in bed with hiswife, and stuck a knife in his back. Tom's death had occurred on Heart's Day. The babe, a boy, was born four months later during Mid Year. Twoneighbor women came to help her birth him and one stayed a fewdays. After that she was left to cope with caring for childand smallholding as best she could. One evening in the next Morningstar, Josea went out to thesmall barn to do the evening chores, leaving the babe asleep in his crib. The wind was howling. She had to clutch hercloak tightly around her. She milked and fed the cow, fed thepigs and chickens. When she left the barn she walked out into afierce blizzard. The wind had risen so that the barn door waswrenched from her hand and slammed back against the side ofthe barn. She couldn't even see the house, which was near theroad, and some little distance from the barn, but she setoff toward it with confidence. She'd lived here all her life and knew every inch of ground,although she'd never seen a storm quite this fierce andsudden. Already there were two inches of snow beneath herfeet. She struggled against the wind for some time, until at last she realized that she must somehow have gonepast the house. She turned back and tried to follow her ownfootprints, reasoning that at least she'd warm herself inthe barn before setting out again. But the snow was falling so thickly that her footprintsvanished before her eyes, and she was quite lost, and cold. Josea struggled on, hoping to come across somethingrecognizable, a boulder or a tree or the road if not houseor barn. Her hands and feet were wet and numb. She hadn'tdressed heavily and was now chilled to the bone, with iceforming on her eyebrows and lashes. "Timmy! Tiimmmeee!" She cried her child's name, hopingagainst hope that the babe would wake and cry and that shemight follow the sound to him. She stood and listened, gasping the cold air into her lungs,but there was only the howling of the wind. The wind, orsomething more? A grey shape took form in front of her,staring at her with slitted yellow eyes. A great grey wolf. Her heart seemed to stop. Her eyes filled with tears as shethought of her child lying helpless in the house alone, andhis mother dead outside. How unlucky, to die so close toshelter! Unlucky. But she had always been unlucky, theunluckiest woman she knew. It might be days before any thought to visit her. She sank down to her knees,exhausted. The wolf sat before her, threw back its head andvoiced its dreadful howl. Her frozen hands scrabbled in the snow, looking for stone or stick, anything with which todefend herself against the pack. Another dark shadowappeared from the whirling white snow. She scrambledbackwards in a panic. This one was also gray, but talland two-legged, gray cloaked and hooded. Its gloved handreached for the wolf's head and patted it. Her scream died inher throat. "No need to fear, lass. We'll not bring you harm, nayquite otherwise. Be you the mother of yon child?" She nodded dumbly. His voice was deep and kind, clear in thehigh whistling of the wind, but her eyes went to his dreadcompanion. "No need to fear," he repeated. "My friend Grellan herewill lead us back to safety. Unless you indeed do wish tospend the night here." His hands reached for hers and pulledher up, and she leaned on his arm and hobbled alongside him. When at last they reached her door, he said, "I stopped herehoping for shelter from the storm. I hope you don't mind?" How could she refuse? Men too could be wolves, but if hewere it wasn't likely he'd take no for an answer anyway."P-p-please come in. I l-left the k-kettle on the boil but Iexpect it's empty by now," she said inanely. "I did go in, when there was no response to my knock, andfound the babe asleep and alone, and the kettle boilingaway. I took the kettle from the fire, but left the babe be. Iknew his mother would not be far, and sent Grellan to findyou. Lucky for you, but then I have always brought luck tothose around me." He threw back his hood and she saw that he was tall and pale, with silver hair andeyes, but a young face. His countenance was grim, but thesilver eyes were kind and his mouth gentle. "My horse too willwant shelter on this night. Have you a shed to offer him?" While he stabled his horse she changed out of her wet clothingand fixed a bit of supper for them: soup and bread andcheese, and elmroot tea. As she dished it up she apologizedmeekly for the meager fare. "Why, 'tis a feast compared to my efforts!" He smiled, andfell to, hungrily. Grellan lay by the fire, his eyes fixed on his master, who occasionallyflung him a morsel. "He ate well yesterday, luckily for yourchickens, else I'd have to buy one from you." "Nay, nay," she protested. "I'm deep in your debt and glad to share anything Ihave with you." The babe stirred and cried then, and shepicked him up, changed his wet diaper, and put him to her breast. "Where's your husband, lady?" She hesitated a moment--the thought flashed that she shouldnot tell this stranger how alone and unprotected shewas--then told him the truth. "A sad tale, truly," he said, "but he's left you a handsome child, and you seem quite comfortable here." Hiseyes went round the humble one room cottage, crib andfeather bed at one end, covered with a quilt of her mother'smaking, and stone hearth at the other, table and chairs madeby her father in the middle. A ladder led to the loft whereshe'd slept as a child. Suddenly the simple room seemed a palace to her. They were warm and dryand well fed, and indeed what could be better? "Why, you're right, stranger. I am lucky after all. Now,will you tell me something of yourself?" "I am less fortunate than you in some ways. I am awanderer, and born to wanderers, a tinker by trade, though I can turn my hand to most things. I have never been married and have no children, nor have I ever had a home otherthan the wagon my horse pulls. I've never stayed long in oneplace. My parents named me Sai, but most folks call me Lucky." "Lucky is what I will call you then, for you have indeedbeen lucky for me." He stood and stretched, and began clearing the remnants oftheir meal from the table. He poured water from the copperkettle into the basin and washed and dried the dishes,something she had never seen a man do before. After the babewas fed they played with him on the hearthrug while he told herof some of the odd and wonderful places and peoples he hadmet with on his journeys, and once again her life seemed very narrow anddull. After an hour or two the babe grew tired and cranky, andshe took him on her lap and sang to him until he fell asleep.She laid him in his crib and wrapped him warmly in a rabbit fur bunting. When she went back to the fire, Lucky reached for her hand and held it for a moment,without a word, then they were in one another's arms and kissing hungrily. They shed their clothing and laytogether shamelessly, enjoying each others bodies in theflickering rosy firelight. He loved the roundness of her breasts and thighs, belly and buttocks, and saidshe was as juicy as an apple. His bleached lean muscularbody and silken hair fascinated her as much. She had lovedTom and known pleasant moments with him, but nothing like shefelt with this stranger. She woke in bed in the morning, to the baby's crying asusual. Lucky wasn't there and she thought he must have been a vivid dream. Then the door opened and shut, and hewas striding toward her, fully dressed, and motioning herto stay where she was. He kissed her lips, then brought the babeto her and stood watching as he suckled. "What a pity that weremember not the pleasure we once knew." "Yet we have pleasures still that we will remember," she said, and felt her cheeks redden at her boldness. What a wanton he must think her! "Indeed," he said, and laid his cold hand against her hotcheek. The storm had stopped during the night, but the snow wasdeep on the road, and it was clear that it would be days before the horse could pull Lucky's small wagonalong the road. That wagon was brightly painted with leavesand vines and flowers in red and blue and green andyellow. The wheels were red with yellow spokes. It had acanvas top, also painted, blue with white fleecy clouds.Josea loved the wagon but it sorted oddly with Lucky's quietgreyness. Lucky did small jobs for her, mending tools, hinges, andutensils. He cut more wood for her, saying that if she did not need it this year, there would be another. Hestayed a week and a thaw came and then a freeze, and the road was ruttedbut fit for travel. They looked at one another in themorning light, and he said that it couldn't hurt to stayanother day, or maybe two ... if she was not yet tired ofhim. She wasn't. After another week, Lucky asked her if she would come with him.Her heart leaped at the question, but she looked around thelittle house where she'd spent all her life, thought of her land and village and her babe, and said,"I can't go. I've no desire to travel, and I don't want tobring my babe up as a homeless waif." Pain flashed across Lucky's pale face, but he only nodded,harnessed up his horse, and kissed her goodbye. Tearsclouded her eyes and blurred the gay wagon colors. Sun's Dawn passed very slowly, with rain and sleet andsnow, but nothing like the storm that had brought Lucky toher. Occasionally there was a knock at her door, which startedher heart pounding, but always it was just a villager,come to buy the dried herbs she sold. Then, on the first nightof First Seed, she heard the creak of a wagon and knew. She flew to the door, her face alight and flung herself into his arms. "I can't stay," he said. "I'm just passing through--" andthat was all the talking they did for quite awhile. Spring came and crocuses poked their noses up through thesnow. Lucky spaded up her garden. Curious neighbors came tocall, but found out no more about him than she knew. She soldthem eggs -- her chickens were laying very well -- and dried herbs and an elixir she made from her grandmother's recipe,which was sovereign for headache and rheumatism. They hired Luckyfor odd jobs, despite their suspicion of him. Lucky continued to come and go, never saying where or when he'd be back, but he seldom stayed away more than a fewdays. He spoke no words of love, but loved her fiercely allthe same. Josea's round belly grew rounder, and she weanedTimmy to cow's milk. Lucky's trips became shorter and lessfrequent. All around the land prospered. Even the oldestcould not recall a better harvest. In Hearthfire Joseabirthed a beautiful baby girl with silver hair, but eyes ofcornflower blue. Lucky held his child and joy radiated fromhim, so that he seemed to burn with a white fire.