The Crown of Dalemark Read Free Page B

know? Huge thing. But he’s not the man to get on the wrong side of if you can help it.”
    â€œWell, I have,” Mitt said bitterly. “I was on his wrong side before he even set eyes on me.”
    â€œNow why was that?” wondered Alk.
    He was obviously waiting for Mitt to tell him, but Mitt found he could not bear to, any more than he could bear to go near Kialan. He finished scrubbing Alk’s left arm and began on the right, even blacker and larger than the left.
    â€œSomething’s up,” Alk said at length, “that I don’t know about, I think. And it can’t be quite legal, or she would have told me. Did they tell you not to tell me?”
    Mitt looked up to find Alk staring shrewdly at him across his lathery arm. “No,” he said. “But I’m not saying. They knew I wouldn’t, too, for fear you’d be disgusted and kick me out. How do you like being washed by the scum of the earth?”
    Alk frowned. “You scrub even brisker than Gregin, if that’s what we’re talking about.” He said nothing else for a while, until Mitt had scrubbed him to clean pink blotches and was starting to help him into good clothes. As his head came out through the neck of the white silk shirt, he said, “See here. I was only a poor farmer’s boy before I came to be a lawman. Keril’s Countess Halida was nobody much either, and she was from the South like you.” Mitt had not the heart to answer this. It was kindly meant, but so wrong. “Hmm,” said Alk. “Wrong track there.” As Mitt helped him force his arms down the sleeves, he added, “And it’s maybe the wrong track, too, if I was to mention that you’re much better placed than you were when you came? You can read and write and use weapons now. They tell me you learn good and quick, and you’ve brains to use what you learn—well, I know you’ve got brains. My Countess has not treated you so badly—”
    â€œAnd that’s a lie!” Mitt burst out. “She did it all for a reason!”
    â€œAs to that,” Alk said as Mitt threaded golden studs into his cuffs, “ you’ve not gone out of your way to make her love you, Mitt. And everyone always has a reason for what they do. It’s only natural.”
    â€œThen what’s your reason for trying to cheer me up like this?” Mitt retorted.
    â€œEasy,” said Alk. “I can’t abide misery, and I hate mysteries. Anyone taking half a glance at your face could see something was wrong. And cheering up often brings things to light. I found that out when I was a lawman, the first time we had a man accused of murder.” Mitt winced at that and nearly dropped a stud. He knew Alk noticed, but Alk only said, “Want me to talk to my Countess about this?”
    â€œNo point. Wouldn’t do any good,” Mitt said. Everyone knew that Alk never went against the Countess. He turned away and got Alk’s vast brocade trousers. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this no more,” he said, helping Alk step into them.
    â€œI see that. And I think you ought to,” Alk said.
    Mitt obstinately said nothing while he buttoned the trousers round Alk’s bulging waist and then fetched the huge embroidered jacket. Alk backed into it with his arms out, like a bear. “Nothing you want to say, then?” he asked.
    â€œNothing, only a question,” Mitt said, meaning to change the subject. “Is the One real?” Alk turned round with the jacket half on and stared at him. “I mean,” said Mitt, “I never heard of the One, nor half the other Undying either, until I came here. We don’t take much note of Undying in the South. Do you believe in any of them?” He went round Alk and heaved the jacket onto him. Then he bent down to help Alk with his boots.
    â€œBelieve in the One!” Alk said, and trod into the right boot. “It