by Myers, Karen
One thing, though… She’d make an ideal messenger while they were away. I’m going to insist on regular reports.
Meanwhile, I should meet with Ifor Moel and see what the impact on our economy would be if there had to be an emergency closure. No more tobacco, no sugar, the lamps and oil, the little lighters. Maybe we should lay in some contingency plans about getting into these businesses ourselves, if worst comes to worst.
From her favorite seat, near the window of the study in the huntsman’s house, Angharad watched as George put the finishing touches to his plans. Imp slouched along the wide arm of her chair with one paw stretched out to touch her belly. She half-smiled to herself—no more room on her lap for another six weeks or so. Still, it hadn’t made him any the less attentive, or rather, she supposed, that was Senua, the black cat’s passenger, who was so interested.
George was leaning over a map on his desk, Benitoe next to him. Maelgwn paced around the room and wouldn’t settle—all the animals underfoot in the study kept an eye out for him. The other cats had already vanished, but the dogs weren’t so easily disturbed.
The room would not have held Seething Magma, but she was already there, more or less, watching over George’s mental shoulder.
“Here’s where the Korrigans’ Way at Tremafon comes out, near Woodward.” George dropped a fountain pen onto a place on the south side of a broad valley. He’d already shown this to Angharad, so she was content to stay in her chair and let the others get closer to the map.
“There’s a big town not far west of there, with a university.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small folding knife, and placed it to mark the spot. “It’ll be good for showing Benitoe a broad range of possible trade goods. Broch, too, if he wants to come. I’ll ask him when he gets back from Edgewood tomorrow. And, Mag, they have a geology department.”
He tilted his head to the side and relayed her reply. “She knows. She’s been looking at them online at Mariah Catlett’s. Wants to leave immediately.”
He grinned. “Sorry, Mag, it’ll take a little planning. Can’t have you just popping out into a classroom, now, can we?”
His face lost its smile. “Seriously, folks, there will be some complications. Transportation, for starters. Unless we propose to just travel along with Mag, which would have its own difficulties, we’re going to need a car. I can’t rent one in a place as small as Woodward, so I may have to ask Mag for a lift someplace else, then drive back to meet you.”
He paused for a moment, listening. “Alright, Mag, thank you.” He looked at the others in the room. “I guess you all already know, anyway, but I’ll spell it out again, just to be sure. Benitoe’s going for the Kuzul, and Mag to explore a bit of human knowledge. And I have my own agenda, besides shepherding you lot around.” He glanced at them with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve discovered that someone who may be my father might still be alive, and he was last seen not very far away from where we’ll be. And I intend to seek this person out and see who he really is.” He looked for something small on his desk and found a button that needed to be sewn back onto his hunt coat. He used that to mark a location just north of the mountains ringing the valley.
He hesitated, and Angharad thought she knew why. “And what does Cernunnos think about this?” she asked, quietly.
He turned to her but didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Oh, not much,” he said with a quirk of his mouth. “He’s been pretty… unresponsive for a while now.”
Angharad translated that into George not being able to reach him. She knew how that bothered him. He’d felt Cernunnos as a threat at first, months ago, but it was different now. He and the god were on much closer terms, or they had been, before the issue of George’s father had come up. She wondered if he was feeling a little lonely.
She knew Gwyn was concerned about a rift between Cernunnos and his host.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Mag was just gracious enough to offer to help.”
“Count me in, too, huntsman,” Benitoe said.
“Thanks. I do appreciate it,” George said. “I expect your clothing to arrive tomorrow, by the way. You’ll have to pretend to be a young human, so you’ll have to dress the part, however odd it will seem.”
Angharad had already helped George arrange some of his own human clothing that he’d brought with him into a neat pack.
She caught Maelgwn’s eye and he finally stopped pacing about the room and walked over to stand at her shoulder. He placed his hand on the back of her chair and she lifted hers to cover it. She’d heard about his conversation with George and she knew he wanted to go along, to keep him safe. “He thinks his father will be glad to see him,” he’d said to her this morning, when George was out walking the hounds. “How can he know that? What if he’s wrong?”
She’d told him, “If so, then what could you do about it? It’s George’s world and he knows it better than we do. If it’s a mistake, he has a better chance of dealing with it.”
But her foster-son was right, she knew. If this man he’d found wasn’t his father, then perhaps it didn’t matter. If he was, then where had he been all this time? Why hadn’t he claimed his son?
George looked back at her over Benitoe’s head and smiled at the tableau they made, of Maelgwn and even Imp hovering protectively over her. She smiled back, but she wasn’t the one going into danger, and her stomach clenched. Still, if Seething Magma couldn’t look out for him, who could?
CHAPTER 12
“You’ll do,” George said. Benitoe looked down at himself uncertainly in the mid-morning sun. They waited with their backpacks in front of the kennel gates.
Ives had already made his farewells to Benitoe and gone back inside to start his daily work with the hounds. Broch was due to pick them up as soon as his early-morning delivery from Edgewood was completed.
Benitoe seemed very different to George’s eye, dressed in light summer khaki slacks and a red polo shirt. He’d originally planned to have Benitoe pose as an older human child, to handle the size issue, but he’d reconsidered once he’d seen him in these clothes.
“You know, I think we should present you as a jockey, not a youngster, if it comes up. They’re often pretty small—less weight for the horse, you understand.” He wasn’t sure how common a sight that would be outside of racehorse circles, but still it explained his appearance better than anything else he’d been able to come up with.
George was dressed similarly, but with a dark green shirt instead of red. Too bad he was himself so large. They’d look less remarkable as a pair if they were closer in size. Still, people might wonder at them, but the real secret would be safe enough.
At least he assumed so. Would there be things about lutins that showed up medically, if an accident happened? He’d just have to keep Benitoe out of a hospital.
Benitoe had balked at open footwear like sandals, and was inspecting his brand new lightweight low hiking shoes, in a style similar to George’s well-worn ones. The synthetic materials were a surprise to him, particularly the specialized soles. George was just relieved they fit well enough. Wasn’t easy ordering from a catalog for him, but Mariah had suggested getting several sizes and returning the extras, and that had done the trick.
“Are you sure I can’t bring even a small sword along?” Benitoe asked, not for the first time.
“We don’t carry open weapons, I told you,” George said. He’d arranged for large pocketknives for both of them, uneasy himself at being weaponless after so many months of living under different assumptions.
He’d brought along his own gun holstered at the small of his back under his untucked shirt, the two-inch .38 he used as part of his hunting kit that was so useless to him here where even modern gunpowder seemed not to work. He hadn’t often carried it in ordinary civilian circumstances before, in the human world, but he had a concealed carry permit from Virginia. He’d checked with Mariah, and it was still current. Pennsylvania would recognize it in a reciprocal arrangement between the states. And, anyw
ay, his whole attitude about weapons and defense had shifted to the fae point of view. Better to be prepared than to worry about the paperwork, he thought, though it’s good to keep it legal where I can.
He’d asked Mariah to keep track of the permit for him, like his driver’s license and his passport and credit cards. He’d have to keep those documents alive in the human world if he was going to continue moving freely in it.
That reminded him—did he have everything else he’d need there? His wallet had ID and credit cards, including an ATM card. He had checks, but he only had a few twenties with him, from Mariah. He’d have to pick up more cash when he got the chance. His pocket watch was in his left pants pocket, the chain looped around his belt, the way he wore it when he had no vest.
Something was missing… what was it? He patted his pockets and felt the knife on the right-hand side. Cellphone, that was it. He’d forgotten to bring it. I can’t believe I’ve lost the habit like that. Do I even have an account anymore?
He considered returning to the huntsman’s house to fetch it, but then thought, I’ll need to get a temporary one for Benitoe anyway. I can just pick up two of them, maybe three if Mag can use one.
It was strange, this feeling of going to a foreign land for an expedition. Had so much changed for him so thoroughly, in less than a year?
He felt for the arrow pendant Angharad had given him, half a year ago. His farewell to her on the veranda in his back garden had not gone smoothly. Maelgwn had been there, too, and Alun, of course. Angharad stood with them, and Imp had hopped onto a table to lean against her at waist height. Not that there was much waist left, he thought. She was still a few weeks from the birth, but he worried about it. He hated to be going away like this, even for just a handful of days.
He’d tried to invoke Cernunnos in her presence. He’d thought to him, “I know you’re not speaking to me, I understand. But please, keep them from harm, anyway, whatever you may think of me at the moment.” There’d been no response.
Imp, however, had sat up straight on the table and looked meaningfully at him. He wondered if Senua had overheard. He hoped so.
They heard Broch before they saw him. The creak of his wagon and the footfalls of the two horses drew their attention, and they picked up their packs to meet him partway.
He smiled broadly as he pulled the horses up. “Sorry to be a little late,” he said. “Took longer to clear the traffic at the Edgewood Way than I expected. More of it every day, seems like.”
The wagon-bed was half-filled with baskets of early apples from Edgewood. “Ifor Moel didn’t take all of it, then, for the manor?” George asked.
“Nay, most of it will go elsewhere. I’m bringing it down to Tremafon for distribution.”
At Broch’s direction, George and Benitoe slung their packs into the back of the wagon behind the seats, making room between the fragrant baskets of apples. George was about to step up to the wagon seat next to Broch, when he caught sight of Rhodri and Ifor Moel, mounted and headed their way.
“You’re not coming along, are you?” George asked. Almost anything was possible, but he thought both of them had responsibilities here that would preclude that.
“Only as far as the anchor point,” Rhodri said.
“I don’t understand,” George said. “Aren’t we driving to Tremafon?” He’d been looking forward to seeing the road. It would take a couple of days, but there wasn’t any hurry.
Broch replied, “Why should we? Doesn’t Gwyn want a way to Tremafon anyway?”
Ifor Moel was nodding as he spoke. “We’re coming along to show Seething Magma where to anchor it, south of the mill in Greenhollow. We have a spot prepared. Rhodri will set up the tokens, and then you can go straight on to Tremafon.”
“Mag already knows where it should come out there,” Rhodri said. “She can feel the Korrigans’ Way, of course. We thought we’d save you the long trip by doing it now.”
That changed George’s plans. Mag, do you want to come with us now, or join us at the start of Gwyn’s new way-to-be for Tremafon?
*The bridge in the village might not support me.*
Too true, he considered.
*But I can just go through the river. It would be pleasant to walk with friends.*
George wanted to see that river crossing. Alright then, he thought, there’s space for you here, twenty feet south of me.
He felt a way opening even as the thought completed, and Rhodri grinned from his horse. “I will never get tired of that,” Rhodri said. “No one in the old world knows what it’s like to feel a way created, if they weren’t at the Nos Galan Mai gathering this year. And here I get to do that every few days. Maelgwn’s growing up in a very interesting time for a way-finder.”
“Sorry I’ll have to kill it for you,” George said, “but Gwyn doesn’t want these random ways left lying about, for security’s sake.”
“I know, but that’s just as interesting to watch,” Rhodri said. “Have at it.”
George waited for Mag to exit the way completely, then he killed it by dissolving its structure, the simplest method he knew and the one that disturbed its surroundings least.
“It’s an honor to see you again, my lady,” Broch said.
George had almost forgotten the reverence in which the rock-wights were held by the korrigans.
Seething Magma rumbled in reply, “I am pleased to see you well, travel companion.”
“Got your token, Mag?” he asked. He was just making conversation, since he could feel that she was “owned” like a way, but she held her own master-token and no way-finder could claim her.
She opened a gap on her upper surface and reached into a cavity underneath. She pulled out a small wooden object with a pseudopod and flourished it in front of the company before putting it away again.
Rhodri called over from his horse. “I was thinking Maelgwn should watch Mag at work in this, it would be good for his training. I’ll send someone to fetch him—he can catch up with us on the road.” He turned back to the stable to pass the message along, then rejoined them.
George and Benitoe joined Broch on the wagon seat and the party set off through the gates in the curtain wall connecting the south side of the manor house with its outer palisade. They made their way down to the main gates and there they walked on through the long stone-walled entrance which pierced the living palisade and warded off most of the “keep-away” affect of the barrier.
When they joined the road, dusty in the absence of recent rain, George took notice of the tracks Mag left in the dirt and then raised his glance to contemplate her large and massive form. Can we really keep all that hidden in the human world? Benitoe said he couldn’t see her when she peeked out from within a way entrance, but she remained visible to him. He’d have to trust Benitoe’s perceptions, he thought.
He listened to her conversation with Rhodri. She could hear Rhodri’s thoughts, but only George and, to some degree, Maelgwn could hear hers, so she spoke out loud with her synthetic voice box so that all could participate.
“Has Gwyn told you that he’d like to get an update every couple of days?” Rhodri asked her. “Is that going to be a problem? He’s likely to be indoors most of the time and I’m not sure how to coordinate it.”
She answered in her low rumble. “It would be best if we set a standard location outdoors so that we know there will be enough room. If you were there for me to anchor on, then you could tell me each day ahead of time if you wanted me, and when, and then I could listen for your anchor call.”
George commented, “If for some reason I’m not there on her end, you won’t be able to kill the way until I return. It’s probably a good idea to come to the same place each time, if you can, so that the collection of closed temporary ways doesn’t interfere with anything else.”
“Will you be leaving enough room for warehouses and wagons at the Greenhollow end?” Broch said. “Not to mention stables and perhaps a few spots for overnight guests.”
Ifor Moe
l and he sank into a discussion about the details, and George was left to his own thoughts again. He’d wanted to see the small villages along the trade road south, but it was just easier to take a way to Tremafon and cut two days off the journey. What will happen to all those little communities, once everyone begins to bypass the road for the shortcut?
CHAPTER 13
Broch pulled his wagon into the wide space off the south road, below the mill at Greenhollow. The mill was the last substantial building in this direction on the river side of the road, and a large compound was sketched out on the ground below it. No buildings had been constructed yet, and the place was deserted, but once the way was in place, George imagined, that work would begin.
He hopped off the wagon seat to join Mag, still dripping from her placid walk across the river bottom. Maelgwn had joined them in plenty of time to watch. Many of the villagers who had chanced to witness it trailed behind them to see what would happen next.
George called over to Ifor Moel who hadn’t bothered to dismount. “Where do you want her?”
Ifor waved him over to a spot in the planned compound that was nearer the road than the river. “See the outlines in loose cobbles there?”
Someone had collected round river rocks the size of a man’s head and used them to mark a rough oval.
Rhodri dismounted and gave his reins to Maelgwn who tied Rhodri’s horse and his own pony to the branches of a bush in the uncleared space. “I’ll neaten up the outline after Mag’s done, to match the real thing, or I’ll have Maelgwn do it.”
Broch looked over from his wagon seat. “You’ll need to move those stones out of the way to let us through.”
Rhodri waved a hand in acknowledgment. “We’ll put them back afterward. This is temporary, just until we can set paving stones here and mark it permanently. Don’t forget, if you come back the other direction before that happens, you might still find them in the way.”
