Then the racing treetops began to slow, ceasing to be a blur and becoming individual masses again, a mass that opened into a huge ragged circle of a clearing with the silver trail of a river down one side, a circle that seemed to float into sight, then to swell so much that the trees drifted out of view at the edges, that the cluster of dots at the top of the screen grew into people who swam out off the bottom in their own turn. Then there was a jolt, ever so slight, and the dark mass below resolved into individual grass stems, unmoving, and Magnus was releasing his webbing, was rising to his full height, tense and braced, saying, "We're home," and turning toward the airlock as though he were about to face an army.
Two
ALEA WAS OUT OF HER WEBBING IN AN INSTANT and by his side, matching him step for step as he paced toward the airlock. As they stepped in, she snatched up the two staves that leaned against the wall and pressed the longer into his hand.
Magnus stared down at it. "What would I want with this? I don't have to be ready to fight—I'm home!"
She didn't believe the middle part, couldn't when his whole stance belied it, but couldn't say that either.
"I'm not a cripple, you know," he told her. "I don't need something to lean on."
She didn't believe that either, but said only, "I do. You don't want to embarrass me, do you?"
Magnus looked surprised, barely started to mutter a denial before the outer door opened and the ramp stretched down before them, a silver gleam in the moonlight that showed the cluster of people moving up to its foot.
Magnus steeled himself, though she suspected only she would have noticed it, then seemed to relax completely and stepped out onto the bridge to his home—stepped faster and faster, until with a grin and cry of joy, he swept three of the people up in a bear hug.
Alea followed more slowly, giving him time, giving them time, hoping desperately that they would take his seeming affection in the spirit in which it was offered.
As she stepped off the ramp, one of the figures let go her stranglehold on Magnus's neck and managed to disentangle herself from his arm with a wide grin, staring up with shining eyes as she said, "Welcome home, brother."
She was petite, she was slender and shapely, she was beautiful, and Alea's heart sank. She's only his sister, she thought wildly, only Cordelia, his sister. But now she knew the standard of beauty with which Magnus had grown up, knew it was everything she was not, and her heart sickened.
Then the other two stepped back from their brother's hug with equally wide grins, showing themselves to be two young men, one broad-shouldered and lean, the other slender and large-eyed but with an aura of power.
Magnus turned to the slighter one in the long robe, and Alea could see him restrain the words that came of themselves.
So did Gregory. He laughed. "Come, say it! 'How I have grown!'"
"I left you a stripling," Magnus said diplomatically, "and find you a man in full." He turned to the more muscular young man in doublet and hose. "And there is also somewhat more of you than there was when I left, Geoffrey."
"And of you." Geoffrey grinned up a foot at his older brother, his grin shading into a challenge. "Have you gained skill in fighting to equal it?"
A shadow darkened Magnus's face. "Many fights, brother, too many—though I cannot claim skill in their outcome."
Geoffrey stared in surprise, and there was a moment's awkward silence. Into it stepped a stocky young man, taller than Geoffrey but far shorter than Magnus, clasping Magnus's free hand in both of his own, saying, "Welcome indeed, brother-in-law."
But what was this? How could this great bulk of a man, this indomitable warrior, this Magnus, HER Magnus, be bowing and saying, "My liege."
The blond's face twisted in pain. "Not your king yet, thank Heaven, Magnus. Come, rise and be my friend as ever you have been."
So this was Prince Alain, Alea noted. She surveyed the other three, naming them with information learned only in the last few weeks. Gregory was not so slender as Magnus had led her to believe—ten years had worked wonders indeed. Geoffrey was every bit as she had imagined him, muscular and seeming to be leashed mayhem even here with his family—but Cordelia was far more beautiful than Magnus's description had led her to believe.
In desperation, she turned to the two young women who stood by watching, but there was no relief in the sight of the brothers' newly-wed wives. The redhead stirred impatiently, and her skirt swirled, parting and revealing a flash of hose-clad thigh—the warrior, then, dressed so that her skirts should not get in the way when she mounted a horse. That meant that the one whose hair seemed white in the moonlight was … Alea braced herself, trying to hold down a growing anger.
Magnus straightened and embraced his old friend the prince. Alea realized he had made his point with skills hard-won, but of diplomacy, not fighting. As he stepped back, Cordelia caught Alain's arm and pressed against his side, saying, "Aye, embrace him as your brother, Magnus, not your prince."
"A year earlier and I could have come in time for your weddings," Magnus said, chagrined. "But at least…"
There was an awkward silence as everyone else filled in the words he had cut off: At least Mother lived to see it. The gloom of the occasion settled over the delight in Magnus's homecoming. Then Cordelia forced a smile and said, "I am not quite so badly outnumbered any more, Magnus. You have three sisters now." She turned to the other two women. "She with the fiery hair and the temper to match is Quicksilver."
The redhead stepped forward to take Geoffrey's arm with a proprietorial manner but extended the other to Magnus. "Welcome, brother."
Magnus took the hand with a flourish and pressed a kiss to it. Quicksilver's eyes widened with surprise, and Geoffrey's darkened, but before he could protest, Magnus released the hand and stepped back to look them up and down with a growing smile. "Well-matched, I should say— and a handsome couple indeed. I hope you shall be blessed with daughters, for they shall be paragons of beauty."
"What, brother!" Geoffrey said indignantly. "Will you wish me no sons?"
"As many as your lady can manage, Geoffrey," Magnus assured him, "for I doubt not they will be as turbulent as they will be handsome."
Quicksilver smiled. "Let them be holy terrors! I think I can deal with half a dozen at least."
Geoffrey looked at her in surprise, but Gregory cleared his throat, and Magnus looked up, then seemed to become still within his body, his smile a little more firm, even rigid, and Alea wondered if any but she realized he was bracing himself.
"Brother," Gregory said gravely as he led forth the stunning vision with the cloud of golden hair, "meet my bride, Allouette."
She stepped forward hesitantly, very hesitantly, seeming almost ready to run, eyes wide with apprehension. "You need not speak to me if you do not wish. We have already met."
Witch! Alea clamped her lips shut to keep the word in. This was she, this was the tormentor of her Magnus, the one who had tortured his heart, who had humiliated and shamed him. She was glad she did not know how the woman had maimed him, for she was having trouble enough keeping herself from rushing forward to strike the she-wolf down where she stood.
"Met you? I never have." Magnus took her hand, albeit somewhat stiffly, and her fingers lay in his palm as though they were lifeless—but his smile, though fixed, was still in place, and he actually managed to summon some warmth into his eyes. "I never met you with no guise but your own, and I must say it is far more fair than any illusion you projected."
Allouette blushed and lowered her gaze, and Alea knew enough of men to realize that the gesture made her even more appealing—but Magnus seemed not to notice. She looked up, looked him squarely in the face. "Gregory has told me that when logic dictated my death, yours was one of the voices that spoke for mercy. I thank you for my life."
"And I you, for giving my brother the happiness that I thought would never be his." But Magnus still stood stiffly.
The silence was brief but awkward.
Then Magnus raised his h
ead, looking around the little group, and asked, "Our father … is he …"
"By Mama's beside," Cordelia told him. "Not even for your homecoming would he leave her now—but I know he is almost as anxious for sight of you as he is for each breath of hers. Come, brother."
She started to turn away, but Magnus caught her arm. "No, wait. You must all meet my shield-mate." He turned to Alea with a smile of relief, but his eyes were haunted, pleading. She stared at him in shock, not understanding, but he only said, "How have you managed to find a shadow to cloak you, even here?"
"By full-moon light, when there is so much of you to cast that shadow?" Alea demanded. "How hard could that be?" She stepped forward nonetheless, gripping her staff to keep her hands from shaking, looking from Geoffrey to Gregory to Cordelia, and pointedly not at the ladies. "I am Alea, whom he took in from charity."
"Say rather, from an instinct for self-preservation!" Magnus protested, and explained to his sibs, "She has saved my life a dozen times at least."
"And you mine," Alea retorted.
"Ah, then," Geoffrey said softly, "there is already a deep bond between you."
Alea turned to him in surprise. Already? What did he mean, already? But Quicksilver was nodding, and Alea met her gaze. They stared straight into one another's eyes for a moment, and warrior recognized warrior. No, more—each knew how important the other's honor was to her, and knew in that instant that they would be able to trust one another in battle for the rest of their lives, no matter how much they quarreled in peacetime.
For they would quarrel, Alea felt sure of that—they would quarrel as naturally and easily as fox and hound. But she would never quarrel with Allouette, for if she once began, she would tear the witch apart.
Quicksilver laughed, a low, melodious, and somehow very reassuring sound. She reached out for Alea's hand, saying, "Come, battle-woman, for I think we shall be comrades in arms, you and I."
Alea thawed and stepped forward to take the offered hand, feeling a smile grow that she hadn't known had started, and turned to walk with the warrior.
"That staff is ash, or I miss my guess," Quicksilver said. "Did you season it long, or find it already sound?"
"I chose it from a fallen tree," Alea answered, and the two of them were off comparing aspects of weapons. Cordelia followed with a barely cloaked smile and caught Allouette's hand through the crook of her elbow, patting the fingers in reassurance.
But Gregory turned to Magnus, his face becoming grave. "Come, brother. Our mother awaits."
WHILE THE GALLOWGLASSES and their fiancées had been distracted with greeting, it had been easy enough to distract them a little further, to project a thought assuring that they would only notice one another, not a strange animal, and certainly not an alien—so Evanescent, stowaway from a distant planet, with a huge globe of a head and a catlike body far too small for it, padded down the gangway and scooted into the shelter of the surrounding trees. Once hidden, she turned to direct a thought at the spaceship's computer, wiping a segment of its memory; it would never remember her dashing down the ramp. She had deadened the sensors along her route between the hold and the airlock so that the computer hadn't been aware of her exit, but it never hurt to make sure.
That done, she folded her stubby legs beneath her, settling down to watch the humans' reunion and tasting the welter of their emotions. She was a very powerful telepath, easily more powerful than either of her two humans, even more powerful than Gregory—a trait that had served her species well in its scramble up the evolutionary ladder. Telepathy had warned them when enemies were coming; teleportation and levitation had made it possible for them to flee; telekinesis had made it unnecessary for them to develop hands. So she watched the humans' antics with amusement, enjoying the richness of their feelings. What constant diversion they supplied! How strange and delightful were their angers and hatreds and loves and delights! How subtle were the shadings of one emotion into another, how delightfully paradoxical their ability to feel several different urges at once, how admirable their ability to control them!
Joy was dominant in this reunion, but beneath it lay unease, not from Allouette alone but from each of the Gallowglass siblings as well—unease that Magnus's homecoming might shift the balance they had worked out between themselves, shock and concern to see how much he had aged in ten years, distress at the obvious ordeals he had survived, a lurking worry that those trials had made his vast mental powers even stronger than when he had left—and mystification at the tall willowy woman he had brought with him.
Evanescent smiled, amused as always by human foibles. She tasted the change in mood and marveled that the humans could become so somber simply at another's death, for her breed lost all interest in their sires and dams as soon as they were grown, barely mature. In turn, their mothers and fathers lost all interest in their offspring once they were past kittenhood. They wandered away from one another, and if they met a few months later, scarcely remembered who each other were.
So she lay watching, intrigued all over again by the strange emotions of these foolish people and wondering at their intensity. They cared so much, these silly two-legged creatures! Why did they let so many things matter to them so deeply? Didn't they know that life was brief, that nothing was of any real consequence when measured against the span of ages? She had probed the minds of her two and knew the answer—that they suspected how insignificant they were but refused to accept it and attacked life with all the greater determination.
She watched until the tallest one, the male whom she thought of as one of hers, turned to his spaceship and gave an order, whereupon the ramp slid back into the ship, the hatch closed, and the huge golden discus lifted silently from the earth, drifted up above the treetops, then shot away into the sky, dwindling to a dot, a point of light, then vanishing.
The humans strode away, but Evanescent lay still, following them with her mind, knowing she could trace them over hundreds of miles. She noticed that their apprehension deepened as they rode off—apprehension over then-mother's impending death, but also over the new relationships they must forge with one another.
She decided she wanted to be closer to their destination and rose, stretched, then turned to trot after the riders—and stopped short, staring at the beings who confronted her, amazed that she'd had no slightest inkling of their approach. For the first time in decades, a worm of fear raised its head inside her.
Three
THEY LOOKED LIKE HUMANS, BUT WERE VERY small, these strange creatures who faced Evanescent, varying from a foot to a foot and a half, and the one that stood at their head was the biggest, both in muscle and in height. He glared at the alien in anger and suspicion as he demanded, "What have you to do with my ward?"
Evanescent blinked, surprised by the creatures' sudden appearance, then realized that she had been so intent on the humans that she had missed the sounds and thoughts of these small ones as they came up behind her. She smiled, amused by their audacity. "Ward? How can so tall a creature as that be under your care?"
"Because he is my king's grandson," the small man snapped, "and from the day the grandson was born, His Majesty commanded me to watch and care for him—aye, and for each of his sibs as they were born, too."
"An interesting command." Evanescent's smile widened.
"Do not show your teeth to me and think to cow me by their threat!" the small one snapped, and the score at his back chorused agreement. "I am the Puck, and all with any sense fear my whims!"
"If my smile displeases you, I shall veil it," Evanescent said equably. She knew that her shark-like teeth, once seen, were not easily forgotten, so did not mind closing her lips. "Still, I wonder how you could think to protect a man who is so much larger, and clearly much stronger, than yourself."
"By magic, of course." The little man and all his mates scowled intently as he aimed a finger at her.
A blow from an unseen hand rocked Evanescent back on her stub of a tail. She gasped, dizzy and frightened, her universe sudd
enly topsy-turvy. When it righted itself and stabilized, she knew it would never be completely firm again. No species but her own had ever been able to lash out at her with such force. "How … how did you …"
"By magic, as I said," the little man said impatiently, "magic of my own, and of the twenty-odd elves behind me. Be sure that I can do much worse, both in kind and in power—for I have more than two thousand years of knowledge and experience to draw on, and hundreds of thousands of elves to strengthen my spells. Tell me what you are, and from where you have come."
So they called themselves "elves" and guarded their minds well—Evanescent could barely catch a stray thought from any of them. But those thoughts were all of concern for the man they knew as Magnus, and anger at Evanescent for endangering him. She began to relax—they were only interested in the same thing, after all: Magnus's welfare. They were natural allies. She merely had to convince them of that.
Merely.
"I come from another world," she said, "one that circles a sun that is only a star among many in your sky. I came across your … ward … and his lady when they were trying to free the humans of my world from a would-be tyrant. I took an interest in them, for they were unlike any others—and saw that they were putting themselves in enormous danger. I followed to save them with my own—magic, if you wish to call it that—if it became necessary."
"Did it?" the little man demanded.
Warlock’s Last Ride Page 3
