"Nay, this is my affair!" Geoffrey cried, and took hold of one of the sticks with his mind. He was surprised at the strength of Moraga's mental hold, but pulled it out of her grip with a single sharp twist. She cried out, clapping her hands to her head, and the other staff fell to the ground. "You are warlocks!" Moraga cried. "You cannot move things with your minds!"
"We can, for we are Gallowglasses," Gregory said. "Hybrids, of a sort."
"'Tis unfair!"
"Oh, it truly is!" Quicksilver cried fervently. "If they can do all that we can, surely we should be able to do all that they can!"
"Yield you," Geoffrey said sternly.
"Never!" A vine ripped itself from a tree and went spinning toward Geoffrey's head. He frowned, and suddenly, he was gone—but in his place reared a giant snake that caught the vine in its teeth and cast it aside. Moraga narrowed her eyes even more, and a forked stick came hurtling toward the snake—but the serpent transformed, and the stick bounced harmlessly off a hollow tree.
"Burn, then!" Moraga shrieked, and fire blossomed at the base of the trunk. The tree went up in a roaring blaze, and Quicksilver cried out, running blindly toward the flames, hands outstretched—until she heard Gregory's voice in her ear. "Fear not, maiden—my brother is well, no matter what you see." Quicksilver skidded to a halt, looking about frantically, but Gregory had disappeared, too; where he had stood, there was only a circle of mushrooms.
"Be food, for I am not fooled!" Moraga cried, and a wild pig came trotting out of the woods, snuffling its way toward the mushrooms.
But the hollow tree had disappeared into ash, and the pig suddenly struck its nose against something that made it retreat with a cry of pain. Quicksilver looked, and saw a fallen spear glittering in the grass.
Moraga glared at a rock, and it looped up into the air, falling straight toward the spear—which disappeared. Quicksilver looked about, beginning to feel as though the world had gone fuzzy. She could see neither spear, nor Geoffrey, nor mushrooms...
But she did see a broad old stump right beneath the apple tree, and she was sure it had not been there before, and there was a hollow log decked with a flowering creeper that she had not noticed earlier either...
"I am not deceived!" Moraga glared at the log, and it began to smoulder...
The stump turned into Geoffrey, who reached up and caught the witch's ankle. She screamed, pulling away, and the log ceased to smoke; in fact, it turned into Gregory.
Geoffrey yanked, and Moraga fell screaming from her branch—straight into his arms.
"Do not dare!" Quicksilver sprinted, and was standing right across from him in an instant, glaring over the struggling woman into his eyes.
"Why, I would not have harmed her in any event," Geoffrey assured her, "but for you, O fair one, I shall loose her." He set Moraga's feet on the ground and let go. She backed away, wild-eyed, but stumbled and would have fallen if Quicksilver had not reached out an arm to catch her and stabilize her. "They have treated you most unchivalrously, damsel!"
"Unchivalrously!" Geoffrey cried indignantly. "She sought to smash us, burn us, and shred us, and all we have done in return is to pull her down from her perch!"
"A knight does not strike a woman, sir!"
"Nor have we," Gregory reminded her. "Indeed, I deflected all the shards from the exploded rock, so that they would not touch her."
Quicksilver looked up and shrank away, toward Moraga. Where had he come from?
"'Tis in full accord with chivalry," Geoffrey said, "to prevent a woman from striking, when she seeks to—and that is all we have done."
"But how did you change your shapes?" Moraga cried. Geoffrey shrugged impatiently. "'Tis a child's game."
"We did not truly change, damsel," Gregory said, "only cast the thought of different forms into your mind. Even as my brother says, 'tis a game we played at in childhood."
"Is that truly all?" Moraga narrowed her eyes, and seemed to gather herself.
Gregory looked up at Geoffrey in alarm. "Must we truly hurt her? Is there no other way to make her cease?"
CHAPTER 14
"Oh, this is insane!" Quicksilver cried. "Stop it, stop it now, all of you! Surely witchfolk should make common cause, not fight one another!"
Moraga hesitated, her glare lessening. "There is some truth in what you say—but they are men..."
"Aye, men, not brutes of the sort that despoiled you! Nay, I will warrant that they are gentlemen in the truest sense of the word! This one has had me in his power these three days, and has never offered me harm save to defend himself, nor ever sought to touch me except when I tempted him most unmercifully! They will not hurt you, so long as you do not seek to hurt them! A truce, I beg you, for I do not wish to see you suffer more, nor them either!"
"If you are sure." Moraga stepped a little closer to her, but definitely seemed to relax a little.
For her part, Quicksilver was amazed at herself for playing peacemaker. She had never done it before—in fact, she had always been more than ready for war, awaiting her enemy's attack with relish.
"Are you a witch, too?" Moraga asked. "I am," Quicksilver admitted.
"You scarce have need of it, if you can fight as well as a man!"
Quicksilver smiled gently. "God does not ask if we need these strange powers of mind, damsel, nor if we want them—He gives them to us at birth, to cope with as we may. For myself, I would rather use force of arms."
"Is it for that reason you have become an outlaw?" Quicksilver smiled. "Nay—all I wished to be was a wife and mother, even as my mother was." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Geoffrey look up, suddenly intent, and smiled with glee inside—but went right on talking to Moraga. "I turned outlaw because a lord sought to force me, and I would not submit to him."
"Why, even as was done to me! Though I was beguiled, not..." Moraga glanced up at the boys, then quickly away.
"Was there none to teach you the use of your powers?" Quicksilver asked gently.
"Nay—and I thought I was some sort of monster, foredoomed and foredamned, so I kept my powers secret all my days."
Quicksilver nodded. "It was thus for me, too. And I was paid for my discretion with my neighbors' friendship."
"Well, with their companionship, at least," Moraga said bitterly, "though 'twas companionship heavily seasoned with condescension, for I am no beauty."
Quicksilver's smile was brittle. "Had they accorded you the place of future spinster, then?"
"Aye, for no lad showed any interest in me. I lived with my parents till they died, then eked out a meager living by spinning."
"A spinster indeed," Quicksilver murmured. "Aye—though I had learned something of herb-lore, and moreover, had made use of my powers to aid healing, and my neighbors became friendly indeed when I began to cure their ills. Then I caught the eye of Sir Gripardin, the knight on whose land our village stood." Her face hardened. "I knew it not, but he had learned that I was a witch—a poacher had espied my practice at moving things by thought, when I had thought myself hidden in the forest, and had sold me out when he was caught and brought before Sir Gripardin. That, and my healing, gave him all he needed to know. He feigned love for me, though he never quite spoke the word, or truly said the word 'marriage,' either. At first, I thought only that he meant to practice the droit de seigneur on one who had no lover, husband, or parent to protect her, and prepared to sell my virtue dearly—but I was quite undone by sweet words of flattery and made no demur when he invited me to his bed. He used me with gentleness and tenderness, and I was so overcome with love that I never thought to question when he asked me to brew up potions by the hundredweight. I knew he sold them for gold, and was thrilled to think that, together, we might become rich—but 'twas he who gained riches, then spurned me from his bed, for he had no further use for me, nor need to cozen an ugly wench. Nay, he sent me packing home, penniless and covered with shame, to endure the jibes and taunts of they whom I had thought to be my friends."
Her voice caugh
t on a sob, and Quicksilver embraced her impulsively. "Why, what a rogue was he! No matter what you did to him, he deserved far worse! And your neighbors deserved small credit, either!"
Moraga nodded, swallowing tears. "I was now shunned by those I had thought to be my friends, because I stood revealed as a witch, and a fallen woman."
Gregory nodded gravely. "Those who had looked upon you with comfortable condescension now feared you."
"And Count Nadyr gave you no justice?" Geoffrey demanded.
"Justice for a witch?" Moraga said, with a bitter smile. "Surely you jest! Oh, I appealed to him for redress, but he supported his knight and turned me away. In anger, I turned to revenge. I began by tormenting Sir Gripardin with supposed haunting, and by stealing his gold from his strong room when he was gone from his manor house—for I had learned well how to make things move by thought alone, I assure you."
"I have had experience of that," Geoffrey acknowledged. "You have."
"You impoverished him, then," Geoffrey inferred.
"No more than he deserved," Quicksilver said, thinlipped.
"Did he not seek to move against you?" Geoffrey demanded.
Moraga smiled with vindictive satisfaction. "He tried to have the shire-reeve arrest me, but I defeated both himself and his constables. His men rejoiced, for they had hated his service, and swore themselves to mine."
"'Twas then you began to think of ruling the parish," Gregory said.
"Indeed I did! Now it was I who sent the false knight packing, and the shire-reeve too, with his own men. I confess I lorded it over those who had treated me first with condescension, then with rebuke—and, oh, my vengeance tasted sweet!"
"I trust you did not abuse them truly," Quicksilver said, frowning.
"No. Oh, I repaid their insults and jibes with my own, but I lightened their taxes, and was still quick to heal the sick, of course."
"Of course," Gregory said, in tones of wonder. Geoffrey glanced at him in concern, but Little Brother's face was all bland calmness.
"Did you sell charms to those who sought them?" Quicksilver asked, remembering the wise woman of her own village.
"Nay, I gave them—but first I gave counsel to those who came for charms. Mocking or not, healing or not, I made it very clear to everyone that it was now I who ruled them."
"Count Nadyr could not long abide such a challenge to his authority," Geoffrey said, frowning.
"He did not," Moraga confirmed. "He sent three knights with a dozen men against me—and at their forefront rode Sir Gripardin. I overthrew them all, making the ground turn to mire beneath them, then into a pit, and as they fell, plucked each man's helmet from his head and struck him senseless with a flying rock." She smiled with a vindictive satisfaction that made Geoffrey's blood run cold. "But he who had used and misused me, I burst the buckles on his armor, shelled him quite, and summoned quarterstaves to beat him until he dropped, senseless. Then I pulled each of them from the pit, closed it up again, and watched them ride home, chastened."
Geoffrey nodded gravely, thinking meanwhile that this woman was a very strong telekinetic indeed, if she had really done all she had described.
Really, Fess's voice reminded him in family thought mode, and Geoffrey felt a little better. Yes, she could have been making it all up—smart tactics, in her current position. Come to that, he really hadn't seen any of the army she claimed to have recruited. He wondered if any of the people she governed had seen it.
"Did you then lay claim to the county?" Quicksilver asked.
"Nay, only to the parishes that adjoined mine."
"Only half the county, then," Geoffrey interpreted. Moraga tilted her chin up and shrugged. "They had declared me outlaw, and I had risen above it to the status of a rebel. I saw that if I were going to do it at all, I might as well do it openly."
"And you set up rule?" Geoffrey asked.
"I did. I appointed a woman to be mayor over each village, and made it clear to all that she had no choice in the matter—she was to administer the village as I told her, or suffer the consequences of my wrath. All had husbands and children; none of the village folk questioned why they did as I bade them."
"Well, yes—but do none wonder why your mayors do not seem to go in fear and trembling?" Quicksilver asked. Moraga turned to her with a slow smile. "Perhaps they do. Who will question it?"
"'Tis well done," Gregory said judiciously. "You protect your lieutenants from blame or charge if you fail, yet ensure their loyalty if you succeed."
Moraga turned to him with a short, grim nod. "That is even as I intend. You see well, lad—and clearly." Geoffrey frowned at the term "lad," but it didn't seem to bother Gregory at all.
For her part, Quicksilver wasn't sure whether what she was seeing was real—but as Moraga told them her tale, her defenses lowered, and she came alive with enthusiasm. The more vibrant she became, the more attractive she seemed to become. Surely it was all in Quicksilver's mind, and only the wariness of a potential rival, though poor plain Moraga certainly could be no competition at all.
But she did seem to be becoming prettier, and the suggestion of a figure actually seemed to be emerging from her voluminous garments as the wind blew them against her skin, showing curves that might well be more voluptuous than obese.
Quicksilver gave herself a shake. It had to be her imagination.
"Since then, you have conquered other villages?" Geoffrey asked.
"And set my mayoresses in them. Aye."
"This, in the space of only a few days?" Gregory asked. Moraga shrugged impatiently, "I must strike quickly, or the knights will strike me down."
"Does not the Church condemn you?" Gregory asked. "After all, they have some claim to these parishes, too."
"The pastors have not had time to send to the abbey to ask the Abbot what they are supposed to think," Moraga answered, "and I do not think they will, for I have made it very clear that I will not bother the clergy if they do not bother me. My quarrel is not with them, after all."
"Amazing, that we should discover two female rebels so much alike in so short a time." Gregory's tone was mild, but the glance he gave Geoffrey was significant, and both heard Fess's voice. So amazing that the possibility of random coincidence is negligible.
"I must admit that I have heard of you, lady," Moraga said to Quicksilver, "and I own I have sought to do as you have done."
That would account for it, Fess admitted.
Geoffrey looked up with alarm, and Quicksilver felt her heart sink—she knew that he was suddenly seeing her as setting a dangerous precedent, and that if she were not punished, disaffected women might rise in rebellion throughout the land. She feared she had lost his support suddenly, and the shadow of the noose seemed to fall about her neck. She stiffened, squaring her shoulders, bound and determined that he would not see a trace of fear or grief in her. If his love had no more foundation than that, or could be swayed so easily as by the animation of this very plain country wench, why, he had never been worth having in the first place!
But within her, something mourned.
"So Count Nadyr proclaimed you outlaw, in all the towns?"
"Aye," she said bitterly, "an outlaw, with my life forfeit to any who wished to take it. He set a price on my head, then marched against me with his knights and soldiers. You have seen the result for yourselves—though I will own I had not expected so easy a victory, and am somewhat suspicious of it. Still, I am glad my men did not have to strike, so that they are still clear in the eyes of the law."
"You care most amazingly for your people," Gregory noted.
She turned to him with a bitter smile. "Aye. That is another way in which I differ from the lords."
She said it with a glare that made it a challenge, and Geoffrey reddened. Quicksilver stepped in quickly, though she was no longer sure why. "It is a tale that strikes a chord on my own heart's strings, for it is much like my own."
"How?" Moraga turned, frowning—and her squint had entirely disappeared. "Wer
e you despoiled by a knight?"
"Nay, but only because I struck harder and quicker than he," Quicksilver told her. "I was a villager myself, damsel, the dutiful daughter of a squire, waiting for adult life to begin. I was well liked, though, and loved my village in return, cherishing the thought of living thus all my days. Indeed, I looked forward to becoming a wife and mother, to being fully a woman..."
Even now, Geoffrey looked up alertly, a little surprised and very much interested. She noted it with bitterness, glad that she had realized in time how feckless he was, and went on. "But I was revolted at the thought of climbing into bed with any of the boys I knew. Nay, I fear I had only contempt for the callow youths who lusted after me, but could not stand up to me. I found that I could beat any of them—could even best the knight who sought to take me by force. I began to see that they were no better than I myself, and were lords only by accident of birth."
"Nay," Geoffrey said, frowning. "They were born as they should have been; 'twas you who were born in the wrong station, by accident."
She glanced at him, puzzled. "Thank you, Sir Knight—I think." She turned back to Moraga. "Despite what he says, damsel, I found most of them to be no better than my village swains. I began to think that I should be a lord myself."
"I said you were a lady," Geoffrey purred, but she no longer trusted the glow in his eyes, and went on. "At last my father died, and without his protection or that of a husband, I found myself far more vulnerable than I would ever have thought. My count summoned me to his bed, with a troop of soldiers led by a knight, to make sure I came."
"Why, the caitiff!" Moraga cried indignantly. Quicksilver gave her a grateful smile. "I determined to sell my virtue dear, and went along to the lord's bedchamber, then fought him off—and slew him."
"What a pity!" Moraga's lip curled.
Geoffrey frowned, unsure, so Quicksilver smiled warmly. "Is it not? I made good my escape—and knew that I was an outlaw. I could not go back to my village, and knew that with the outlaws of the greenwood, I must become either their base slave, or their master." Her smile widened. "By luck, skill, and Heaven's grace, I triumphed. The rest, I think you know."
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