Silver May Tarnish Read Online Free PDF Page A

open and half-empty,” Berond agreed. “A man could make his own way and Paril did. He kept the badge of Paltendale, being a son of the House. Four generations ago Erondale gave shelter to one who came riding bearing that same badge.” Some half-remembered tale sprang up in my mind so that I exclaimed.
    â€œPletten the Wicked!”
    Berond looked at me sharply. “Yes, indeed. Pletten of Paltendale. A man who knew no law save his own appetites. Far to the South-west, deep in the hills which skirt the Waste, Erondale rode to a wedding with Pletten at his side. And at that far keep evil was done so that Erondale rode home kin-shamed. Yet Pletten remained. He was kin and to thrust him forth might bring feud down upon the
keep. Nor could he say aught, since Pletten was son to the main line of the House and thus above him.
    â€œBut that was forgotten when the Lord of Erondale found Pletten seeking to abuse a lass in the hills. She was not of our race or kind, but she was young, like to a child, and in his rage and disgust he struck. Pletten the wicked died, his victim unharmed, for her rescuer had come in time. But Erondale’s Lord sank to the ground and cursed that wicked man with all his heart. For under kin-law he must ride now and admit his crime to Paltendale.”
    â€œWas Pletten the oldest son?”
    â€œNo, and in that lay hope. For it was possible, if he could raise a great enough payment, Paltendale might accept it and absolve him. Were he not kin there would be no question, Paltendale would cry feud, but he was lord of a cadet House and blood payment would be acceptable were it large enough. But the amount would surely be great and Erondale, though prosperous in other things, had little coin. So the lord sank down, seeing that the girl he had freed had fled, and gave himself over to worry.”
    I broke in. “He must have done something. We don’t have a feud with Paltendale or they wouldn’t have taken us in.”
    â€œHe did nothing. Two days later as he rode in the high hills still trying to think of a remedy, the girl returned. In her hands she bore a bowl filled to the rim with riches. This she gave him speaking formally. ‘For a life you gave, for a life you took. For payment to be made.’ From her hands he accepted it with gratitude saying that if less was needed, then that which remained should be returned to her.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œPayment was accepted by Paltendale. You have seen the second curtain wall?” I nodded. “It was that which was built with Erondale’s coin. But there was still much wealth left over. Many men would have kept it, counting it as payment for the danger of feud. But not the Lord of Erondale. Once all was agreed, he rode home, and taking the riches
unused he went to the hills seeking the one who had given them.”
    I was listening intently. I’d heard a garbled part of this tale from Anla many years ago. But much of it was still new to me.
    â€œTwo nights the Lord of Erondale searched the hills with four of his men. On the third night one came to him. Not the girl, but it could be seen she was kin to he who came. The Lord of Erondale and the one who came to him went aside and spoke for a part of the night, and none know for certain what was said between them. Only this is known—that as the dawn neared, the other arose. He accepted the coin offered, but as he did so he said this openly before those present:
    â€œâ€˜Honor was more to you than blood. So shall your keep be Blessed as long as the grass grows upon your pasture.’”I recalled Berond’s description of Erondale now, and wondered if it had been the invaders’ machine which had broken that blessing. “‘Your Hold of Erondale may fall, but your House shall rise again. Never so long as the Power holds, shall it die. That which you could have kept is given back to you. In a time when it is required let it