The Bastard 2

by Jack Porter

  Finally, with a voice full of command, she spoke a final word in that language, and the liquid gave a green pulse that briefly flooded the entire cottage.

  Meghan stopped chanting. Her hands, for so many minutes having moved in a series of gestures in a dance made up of her fingers and wrists and palms, relaxed. She looked at me with an expression almost of shyness, and I could see the toll her efforts had taken.

  There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and she was breathing deeply. Yet she seemed satisfied, pleased with her efforts, as if things had gone well.

  “It is done,” she said. “The potion you asked for. It will change your features just as the last one did, but this one will remain until the spell is broken by me or someone else with a similar power.”

  With that, she picked up the potion and offered it to me. “All you have to do is drink,” she said.

  I reached for it, but at the last moment, it seemed that she changed her mind. “On second thought, I quite like your face as it is. Perhaps you can drink it… after.”

  The look on her face said more than her words. She had a specific desire in mind, and it didn’t take much effort to figure out what it was.

  I offered a low chuckle, and nodded, and that was all it took.

  There would be plenty of time to take the potion in the morning, before I headed back into the city.

  23

  As Meghan and I lay together in her bed, enjoying each other’s company after our passion was spent, I couldn’t help but think back to what I had witnessed. What this woman had showed me of the power within her.

  “Is it always like that?” I asked.

  “Hmmm?” she said, too relaxed to form a proper question.

  “Your power. The magic that you do. It seemed to take a lot out of you. Is it always like that, with everything that you do?”

  I felt the enchantress’ gentle smile rather than saw it. “Not always. I was showing off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shifted against me. “To do it that way, to make use of my power directly like that, it’s not the most efficient approach. Usually, people like me store our power in objects. Even jewelry. I have several such objects hidden about my cottage, each of which is a vessel for my power. When you’re not here, I make a point to spend at least an hour a day drawing my magic out and storing it for future use. If I had wanted to, I could have used that stored power to activate your potion. It would have been quicker, but less interesting.”

  “And why didn’t you?” I asked.

  I felt her grin grow broader. “I wanted to show off,” she said.

  I had nothing more to say. I drifted off in Meghan’s arms, my mind filled with images of magic.

  I took her potion first thing in the morning and found the effects just as painful and nauseating as last time. If anything, it was worse, lasting much longer. It was like getting punched in the face by Rolf with his fists wrapped in metal spikes, and it seemed to go on forever. Such was the pain and nausea that I could barely stand, and I sensed Meghan doing what she could to support me while murmuring words to distract me from the worst of it.

  Finally, the pain and nausea subsided, and I felt my strength starting to return. I looked at Meghan and saw the concern etched into her face.

  For her sake, I mustered a grin. “How do I look?” I asked.

  In response, she reached up and ruffled my hair. “Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.”

  But the look in her eye held a tinge of sadness, and I realized that she preferred the old me.

  “Is it the same as before?” I asked.

  “Mostly. A little different. It’s a different potion, but the effects are much the same.” She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “You look older. More weathered, and darker. There is a wave in your hair that wasn’t there before. You now have another man’s face, but other than that, you’re still you. You have the same build, posture, and mannerisms. So there is still a chance those close to you might know who you are.”

  I decided it wasn’t a bad thing.

  Out of no more than a sense of gratitude, I spontaneously reached for Meghan and pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you,” I said. “If it weren’t for you, I would be putting others in danger. You’ve made it possible for me to live my life without that risk.”

  The enchantress accepted my thanks as if it was her due. Which it was. “Have you figured out what you are going to do?” she asked.

  “Not really. But I feel like things are going to get interesting. It seems I am developing a habit of going up against the King’s men.”

  I tried to say it lightly, as if it was a joke, yet the truth in my words was undeniable.

  Meghan’s response was sober and reassuring at the same time. “Yes,” she said. “You do. It’s almost as if you really are meant for more than being a thief.” She gave me a smile, and continued before I could respond. “Just remember, if ever you need anything, you know where I am.”

  I nodded, accepting her words, yet at the same time, couldn’t help but think of something else. “You could come with me,” I said. “Help to keep me out of trouble. If you wanted to.”

  The thought seemed to surprise her. She seemed to do some fast calculations, but then shook her head. “There are good reasons why I stay away from the city. It was risky enough to come in on the day of your hanging. I only did that because if I hadn’t, you would be dead by now.” Yet, even as she spoke, I sensed a certain ambiguity within her, as if she wasn’t quite convinced of the strength of her own answer.

  I didn’t push it. Instead, I looked around the room and spotted Sir George in his new favorite spot in the rafters. “Come on, you!” I said to my scaly companion. “It’s time for us to go.”

  I had never been entirely sure how smart rat dragons actually were. I didn’t know if he obeyed my command because he understood the words, or if he simply sensed my intent. Either way, my faithful companion obediently launched himself into the air and made a beeline to my shoulder. “Well,” I said. “It seems Sir George isn’t fooled by my change of appearance,” I said. I threw an accusatory look at Meghan, quietly teasing her about the effectiveness of her magic.

  “Well then it’s a good thing you are only trying to trick people and not rat dragons, isn’t it?” she replied. I barked a laugh, gathered my things, and within a few minutes, I was on my way back into the city.

  24

  It proved to be one of the best days Camelot had seen for some time, with large patches of blue fighting for control with the more typical gray. There wasn’t even a hint of moisture in the air, and there was even a suggestion of birdsong sounding above the regular noise of the city. I walked through the streets with my head high, and found myself humming a happy tune, not a care in the world if anyone happened to glance at my face.

  I was no longer Mordie, Mordred, or the King’s Bastard, but a nameless stranger with an unfamiliar face, free to go about my business just like anyone else. It wouldn’t even matter if Rolf himself were to appear right in front of me with murder on his mind. He had seen my disguised features before, and knew it was still me. But as Meghan had said, I looked different this time as well.

  And, anyway, I wouldn’t have minded if Rolf did pop into existence before me. I had my knob-ended club in my hand and would have happily swung it at the man’s face with full strength, and if that didn’t do the job, then I had my sword and a number of knives.

  There was only one drawback of wandering into the town not looking like me. Meghan’s words had made an impact. I knew she was right. I didn’t have to define my life’s purpose on the spot. A purpose for a while would be more than enough.

  And I thought I already knew what that interim purpose might be.

  Anwen.

  I had met the woman just the once, and had never seen her since, yet I couldn’t help but feel that our lives were intertwined. Perhaps my meeting her had been no more than a minor event in her life, insignificant in the long r
un. But for me, it had changed everything.

  That she was in mortal danger, there was no doubt in my mind. It wasn’t my fault, but that of the choices she had made of her own volition. Even so, I felt I owed her, and didn’t intend to rest until I had offered her my aid.

  Which meant talking to my network of people and finding out if they had learned anything of value about her whereabouts.

  An easy task with my regular face. But with this one?

  I decided to limit my efforts, to begin with at least, to those who didn’t know me quite as well as some of the others, and introduced myself as Gawain, Mordie’s cousin.

  It worked well enough. I spoke to storekeepers, to beggars, to random people I had known, and they all accepted my story. Perhaps, as Gawain, I still had a trustworthy face.

  But the response I obtained was much the same.

  Nobody knew anything.

  I thought to see if Rosalyn, or Cassandra of the Wooden Bucket would know more, but didn’t yet want to risk the confusion. Instead, I headed to the market on the off chance of finding the street urchin Samuel, knowing he was still the best bet.

  He wasn’t difficult to locate. I spied a random boy, a skinny lad of no more than eight, but with eyes years older, and gave him a couple of coppers to send word. Within minutes, the familiar shape of my young friend appeared on the path ahead of me. He caught my eye, hesitated, then found his voice.

  “Who are you?” he demanded as he walked up to me and studied my face. He still seemed uncertain, as if he thought he should recognize me, but didn’t know where from. Yet, that he had chosen to show himself at all showed me how much he had changed in the short time I had known him. When we first met, he would have clung to the shadows, and disappeared completely if he sensed the first hint of danger.

  But this was a more courageous, confident boy. Taller as well, by the width of finger or two.

  As was often the case when dealing with him, I found myself grinning. “Who do you think I am?” I asked, ignoring the flow of random people wandering through the market just as thoroughly as I ignored the stallholders, stockholders, and entertainers.

  Samuel’s face hardened, and I thought he might respond harshly that he had no time for games. Perhaps, in another year or two, he might get to that point. If he did, I thought it would be a shame. I saw Samuel as a boy with a surprising sense of honor, and integrity that was rare in the Camelot streets. Camelot needed people like him. It didn’t need just another dangerous thug, who was ready to slit a man’s throat for the weight of his coin pouch.

  Instead, the boy decided to play along. “You move like someone I know, but your face ain’t right,” he said. “But there’s only one man I know who carries a rat dragon around on his shoulder like that, and the look in your eye… I don’t understand.”

  I could sense his confusion and had to laugh. “You’re on the right track,” I hinted.

  “Mordie?” he said quietly.

  I nodded, surprised and a little bit pleased that he had seen through Meghan’s magic. “But call me Gawain, for now. My real name is getting a bit too much attention at the moment.”

  The boy understood immediately. He had first told me of the rumor that a King’s Bastard still lived, after all. Nor did I fear he would use the knowledge of who I was to his advantage, extorting me to remain silent.

  As I said, there was a peculiar honor about him.

  “But how?” he asked.

  “Does it matter? Suffice it to say that there is a little bit of magic involved.”

  At the word magic, Samuel’s eyes grew wide, and I knew then that he wasn’t quite as wise in the ways of the world as he seemed. There were still things that filled him with wonder, and magic was one.

  Which was as it should have been. It filled me with the same wonder as well.

  But when I asked him the same question I had asked the others, if he’d found out anything that could lead me to Anwen, the boy dropped his eyes to the ground and shook his head in chagrin.

  “I hate to admit it,” he said. “I thought I could find out anything. But this – I ain’t heard a thing.”

  I was disappointed, but by then, I had come to expect his response. Nobody else had heard anything, either.

  “Keep looking,” I said. “The silver is still there, and it has your name on it.”

  Samuel nodded, took one last look at my face as if trying to remember the changes, and then he was gone, melted back into the crowd as if he didn’t exist.

  I glanced up to the sky and noted the position of the sun. I hadn’t heard the town timekeeper shouting out the hours, but it couldn’t be too far from noon.

  There was one more person I wanted to speak to. One person I wanted to test Meghan’s magic on. If I was lucky, Elaine would be where she said, at the fountain at the far end of the market square.

  I wanted to see her. Yet my motivation wasn’t straightforward. It would be great to see her again for my own account, but at the same time, I had run out of options regarding Anwen.

  I had hoped Samuel might have found the information I needed. But as that hadn’t proved to be the case, there was only one option.

  In the city of Camelot, there was one man who had access to a network of informants that was more intricate and better structured than my own. That man was Rolf’s spymaster.

  Galahad. Elaine’s father.

  The man who had spread the word to the world that I was King Arthur’s Bastard son, and who wanted me to be the figurehead for his personal rebellion.

  25

  The fountain was a was a large, ornate, gold and green extravaganza with water cascading from numerous levels, with artistic renderings of dragons standing guard. As I drew close to it, I saw that one of the dragons had been painted so that it resembled Sir George, and I nudged the rat dragon on my shoulder to point it out.

  But he wasn’t impressed. He snorted a small puff of smoke and turned away, almost as if he was insulted.

  “What’s the matter, little one?” I asked him. “It’s you, only a few sizes bigger.”

  My scaled pet ignored me, but I didn’t really mind. The fountain with all its dragon sculpted beauty was not my primary focus. I was there to meet with Elaine, and my heart gave a lift when I spied her seated on the fountain’s broad edge on the far side.

  Without hesitation, I made my way to her, and she looked up at my approach with an expression of hope. But when she studied my face, that expression slid into confusion, and then disappointment.

  Elaine looked away, and I knew she hadn’t recognized me. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed but found myself grinning broadly. “Hello,” I said by way of greeting.

  The beautiful woman barely glanced in my direction. Meghan’s potion had altered my voice as well as my face. Just a little. It was deeper, a little rougher, like I would sound when suffering from a cold. Yet I thought it was still similar enough that it would give Elaine a clue who I was.

  Apparently, it did not.

  “Keep moving,” Elaine said in a voice filled with boredom and steel. I understood then that it was far from the first time that a random stranger had approached her uninvited, and that she was long used to dealing with it.

  Of course, I had no intention of doing as she said. “Surely, you jest. A lady as beautiful as yourself should never have to sit alone.”

  “I’m waiting for somebody,” she said, not even looking my way, her voice containing just enough contempt that it felt like a slap. “And I am no highborn woman of the court, so you can keep your “lady” to yourself.”

  If I had been approaching Elaine for real, her blunt dismissals would have been enough to make me at least rethink my approach, if not back away completely. But, although she didn’t know it, she was waiting for me, and I was enjoying the game.

  “Perhaps we could wait together,” I said. “And I could entertain you with some story or other while we do?”

  Elaine hadn’t looked at me since I approached,
but I could still see her face, even though I wasn’t standing completely in front of her. I saw her close her eyes and take a deep breath to stifle her irritation at my unwanted persistence. Then, in a single, graceful movement, she rose, took a single step from me to give herself room, and drew her sword. She stood in a relaxed yet threatening pose, the tip of her weapon pointed at my throat, her arm bent to suggest plenty of reach still in hand, and her grip solid and steady.

  “I would prefer not to spill blood so early in the day,” Elaine said, her tone as relaxed and matter of fact as if she was discussing the weather. “But if you make me do so, I won’t cry about it either.”

  Sir George apparently didn’t like the sight of sharpened steel so close to him. He liked Elaine, this much was clear, but still reared up with his wings flared at the perceived threat. It was enough to draw Elaine’s attention, if only for a moment, and the tip of her sword wavered as she stared in confusion. “Sir George?” she asked.

  I was still grinning. “Would Lady Emmeline approve of you being so easily distracted when your sword is unsheathed?” I asked playfully.

  Elaine’s confusion increased, but the tip of her sword grew steadier. “What did you say?” she demanded.

  I reached up and touched the tip of her weapon with my finger and noted that it had been sharpened to a fine point. “Our mutual teacher,” I said. “She once mentioned that she would like to see us face off against one another. But I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind.”

  At this, Elaine’s confusion grew even stronger. She hesitated, then withdrew her sword half a foot. “Mordie?”

  I kept grinning. But stayed as I was. I didn’t really think Elaine would have stabbed me, even if she hadn’t started to suspect who I was. But I didn’t intend to make any sudden moves, either.

  “I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t recognize me right away,” I said.