The Fairy Godmother

by Mercedes Lackey

  The man froze, the struggling girl still in his grasp.

  She could not have been much older than fourteen or fifteen, and only just woman-ripe. And once, maybe Alexander would have laughed to see this, and gone on his way, for the girl and the man on the ground were only peasants, after all. And had he not come down the path that Madame Elena had laid for his feet, some future, harder Alexander might even have demanded his share of the girl—

  But that past Alexander was gone, and the future one erased. And this bastard, be he never so noble, was not of a like kind with the Alexander who stood there with his second arrow aimed for the eye.

  The stranger slowly met Alexander’s gaze. He was clad in blue velvet and silk, and around his neck was a thick chain of golden links. Otherwise he was nondescript, with short hair cut to fit beneath a helm, and an ordinary enough, moustached face. “Well met, fellow,” the man said, coolly.

  “Come to take a share of the spoils? I saw her first, but you’re welcome to her when—”

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  “Let her go,” said Alexander, feeling an icy fury rising up in him at the sight of the poor child’s terror.

  “I don’t think you quite understand the situation here,”

  the man replied, without turning a hair. “These are my lands.

  I own these peasants. They are mine to—”

  “Let her go!” Alexander interrupted with a roar. “Lands you may well own, but people, never! Now unless you want my arrow in your eye—”

  The man barked a laugh. “And what if my men have you in their sight? What then?”

  “I can drop you before they can reach me,” Alexander countered, instantly. He knew it for truth; he also knew that it was unlikely the man would have positioned his men in hiding, if he’d even come with men at all. “If they had bows, I’d be dead already. Assuming they even exist. Now let her go. You have until the count of three, or you die like the base-born cur you are. One.”

  Slowly the man’s grip loosened on the terrified girl.

  “Two.”

  The girl wrenched herself free and threw herself down beside the man on the ground. Alexander did not lower his bow.

  “Girl,” he barked. “Girl!”

  Weeping, she looked up from the victim.

  “Does that man live?” he asked harshly.

  She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

  “Good. Then he’ll last long enough for us to find him help— and deal with this dog here. Give him what tending you can, then get you rope from the house.”

  The face of the nobleman went blank. “Just what, pre

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  cisely, do you intend, fellow?” he asked, carefully, and the girl ran back to the house.

  “Justice,” Alexander replied succinctly. “I see by the belt you wear that you are a knight—or you pretend to that rank. By the laws of chivalry, I could kill you where you stand for the insult you gave that maiden.”

  The man’s face went black with rage, and he shook as he made his reply. “You dare!” he howled. “You dare take me to task for what I do with my cattle on my—”

  “Shut your mouth!” Alexander roared again. “Yes, I take you to task, for people are not cattle, to do with as you will, and the vows you swore as a knight bind you to honor all women, be they never so base! And speaking of bind— bind him, girl. Bind his hands behind him, and bind his arms to his body. Then take up that poor man and put him on that horse I see over there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the richly caparisoned palfrey that clearly belonged to the knight. “You will lead the horse, and I will prod this dog before us, and we will go to a lady who will see justice done for you, and to this—”

  And the man—and the maid—abruptly burst into peals of delighted laughter, like the wild pealing of joyful bells ringing out for a great victory, and the triumphant trumpeting of bugles on the battlefield.

  And before Alexander could even begin to react to that, the body on the ground—vanished. And the cottage vanished. And the peasant maid and the richly clad knight also vanished.

  But in their places stood two beings the like of which Alexander had never before seen.

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  That they were Fae, Elves, he had no doubt—but they were to the Brownies and that odd little creature he might or might not have met down at the pond what a brilliantly faceted diamond was to a quartz crystal. Or perhaps, what lightning and thunder were to the little spark that came from rubbing silk against amber. There were no words to describe them adequately, and now he knew why, when the books in Elena’s Library had tried to tell what the Great Fae were like, they simply said, “Their like is not in the world.”

  There were things that marked them—the delicately pointed ears, the long and narrow faces, the slender, graceful bodies, the ground-sweeping manes of silken hair that graced both sexes, the strange, intricately wrought garb that they wore that was both jewelry and clothing in all the colors of green that ever there were. But none of that was what they were. If enchantment had a form, it was theirs.

  “Well done, Prince Alexander,” said the she—who was a Queen among her people, surely. “And well and truly said and meant, for meaning is as important as action. You have passed our test.”

  “More than passed, pearl of my heart,” the male—also, most surely, royal. “We looked only to see he intended a rescue. Instead he dared to think of justice, and against one he might well have sought common cause with, once.” As Alexander slowly lowered his bow, the string going slack in his fingers, they both approached him, with deliberate grace and gliding steps. “Yes,” the King continued, fixing Alexander with a penetrating gaze. “Yes. I believe he is what I hoped for.”

  “Then a gift I grant to you, Prince among mortals,” said 398

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  the Queen, “for it is, I think, a gift that you will use wisely and well.” And she reached out with one long, slender finger and touched him lightly in the middle of his forehead, and a second time on his lips; he licked them involuntarily, and tasted something like honey.

  It was as if some dam inside him burst, and suddenly he was flooded with sensation. Mostly vision, as swirls and clouds of glowing light sprang up around him and all about him, but mostly circling the two Elves. But there were other things, sensations he couldn’t quite put a name to, but which left him dazzled, nonetheless.

  Then the King did the same—

  But this time nothing happened, or at least, nothing obvious.

  “Now go you back to dwelling of the mortal Godmother called Elena,” said the King, with a pleased chuckle.

  “And tell her—?” Alexander managed.

  “Oh, she will know what to make of you,” the Queen said, amid more peals of that silvery laughter, that he joined in with, without quite knowing why he did so. “Trust me, she will know!”

  “Madame Elena,” said Rose, in a rather strained voice.

  She peered into the doorway of Elena’s study, to which Elena had been “banished” when Lily felt that she had done more than her share of apple-picking. “The Prince has returned. I think you had better see him.”

  Elena looked up; Rose looked as if she had seen something she still could not believe, yet dared not disbelieve. She looked shocked, rather than smug, but shocked as in having her own view of the world turned upside down, rather than if something truly dreadful had happened to the Prince that even she was appalled by.

  So. He’s returned in triumph, I suspect! Elena took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh of relief, all of her tension going with it. It was over, and it had gone well. Alexander had 400

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  passed the trial—and apparently managed to do a great deal better than merely pass it.

  Behind his curtain, she heard Randolf chuckle with immense satisfaction. Rose did not even glance his way.

  “Very well, I’l
l come down,” Elena said, setting aside the chronicle she was reading. Rose turned and was gone by the time she reached the door onto the staircase.

  She went down the stairs and passed through the parlor and the library, and noted that most of the books had left the parlor, though whether the House-Elves had moved them or they had moved themselves, she could not say.

  What mattered was that the new library room must have opened up in the night. I shall have to look into that in a bit, she thought, hastening her steps at the sound of voices in the kitchen.

  There she found all of the House-Elves, Rose included, and Alexander. They were standing; he was sitting at the table, dressed in hunting-gear, cradling a cup of ale, and looking bewildered.

  There was no doubt why Rose had reacted to the sight of him in the way that she had. The amount of magic about him was matched only by the magic that had swirled around Octavian when it was time for him to return to Kohlstania.

  But that could have been explained away—what could not be explained away was the forms that had been laid over him, and that was what had given Rose her shock.

  The same forms had been laid upon Elena, though she had not known it, when she was accepted as an Apprentice. The Elf-Queen’s mark was on the Prince, in the form of a crimson bird with flaming wings, the sign of the Pro

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  tector, laid over his head and shoulders, visible to those with the eyes to see magic, and—yes, the Elf-King’s as well, a circlet of emerald fire around his brow that raised a narrow, mild-eyed head at her approach and showed itself to be, not a circlet at all, but the emerald serpent, the symbol of Wisdom. Both would fade in time, probably by morning—but the mark upon the spirit was there for all time.

  There it was. The Elven Royalty had accepted him. If he chose to remain here, he could not be turned away. Small wonder that Rose had been shaken.

  Alexander looked up at the sound of her footstep, and it was very clear from his expression that he was utterly bewildered. She knew how he felt; to see magic itself, raw and primal, for the first time, and not to know what it was—he must think himself going mad.

  “It’s all right,” she said, immediately, and sat down beside him, patting his hand. “You’re not moonstruck. The Elves marked you, and when they did, they opened your eyes to see magic. You must have some magical ability of your own, or they wouldn’t have been able to do that. It means that not only did you pass the trial they set you, but they’ve accepted you as a kind of—of Knight of Magic. Like I am, actually. You have to be able to see magic to use it with finesse.

  If you can see it, you can do more with a very little ability than someone with more ability, but unable to see.”

  “It’s—very disorienting,” he said carefully.

  “Just want it to go away,” she told him. “These things answer to the trained will, and I know you have that; all that military training you had must have given you discipline. At first, it might help to close your eyes before you concentrate 402

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  on making it go away. Then, when you want to see magic again, want it to come back. It’s probably the easiest of all of the magic powers to control.”

  He closed his eyes and opened them again, and relief spread over his features. “It’s gone!”

  “I told you it would be.” She patted his hand again. “I don’t think you heard me the first time—you’ve passed your final trial, Prince Alexander, just like your brother.

  Would you like to go home?”

  That last cost her to ask, but the offer had to be made.

  And if he said yes, she would have to honor his request.

  But he opened his mouth, then closed it again, without saying anything. Then opened it again. “I’m a magician?”

  he asked, instead of answering her.

  They all nodded, even Rose. “Now that you can see magic, even though you don’t know how to use it yet, aye,”

  said Hob. “And seeing it, you’ll train up right quick.”

  He looked thoughtful. “How powerful am I?” he asked, this time looking to Elena.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know for certain,” she cautioned, “but I would guess, not very. No more than a country Witch or a Hedge-Wizard. If you were more powerful than that, you’d have come into your powers earlier, and you’d at least have felt them— every day, all the time, as if there was something you should be doing, something amazing that was going to happen to you, though you didn’t know what it was.”

  He rubbed at a scratch on his cheek, absently. “What about now and again feeling like there was someone looming over me, watching me?”

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  “Hedge-Wizard,” all the Brownies chorused at once, with Rose looking relieved. “That’s just the sense that the power is there, lad,” said Hob. “As it was, of course; it looms over everyone born royal, from time to time. Now—huh.

  I’ve a thought—”

  He glanced at Elena, who nodded encouragement.

  “Well,” he said slowly. “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen such a man, but it’s also a long time since anyone wizard-born was also warrior-trained—it comes to me that you don’t need a lot of magic to be a Champion.”

  “A what?” asked Elena, but she was drowned out by a chorus of what sounded like fervent curses from the other three House-Elves.

  “Now why didn’t I see that coming?” Lily said aloud, throwing her hands up in the air. “Of course!”

  “It would be nice if someone would explain this to both of us mere mortals,” the Prince said, but so plaintively that it would have been impossible for anyone to take offense.

  “You’ve heard of the Green Knight? The Knight of the Black Rose? Sir Gavin the Hawk?” At each of those names, Alexander nodded vigorously. “Well, they was all Champions. The Great Fae have ’em among them, of course—warriors with a bit of magic—but sometimes they see a mortal they think worthy, and make him one, too. ’Specially if they think he’s the kind to go charging in without regard for his own safety seeking justice, protecting the innocent, defending the virtuous, all that knightly sort of thing.”

  For some reason that Elena could not fathom, Alexander blushed, but nodded.

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  “Thing is, you see—now, you know not everything that comes out of Faerie thinks kindly of mortals, eh? And some of those things just laugh at ordinary swords and arrows and what-all.” Hob waited to see if Alexander was following him, and as the Prince nodded, he went on. “Now, of course, you know that there’s magic swords and so on that can take such an enemy down, but a Champion don’t need a magic sword, or arrow, or spear, because whatever weapon he has is magic when he chooses. You see? You may not be able to channel much magic into your weapon, but any magic is enough to make it bite, and bite as hard as you can hit.”

  Elena felt her eyes widen, and Alexander’s mouth formed a silent “oh.”

  “Ye see?” said Hob with satisfaction. “You mind Gavin the Hawk? That’s how he got through the Scorpion King’s black armor.”

  “How do I learn to do this?” Alexander asked, eagerly.

  “We-ell, I’d say to go look in the Chronicles to be sure, but I think you’ll find you don’t need to learn it,” Lily put in.

  “I think once you can see magic, it’s more a matter of will and instinct than learned. And practice. Lots of practice, with someone who can see magic to supervise.”

  Now Alexander turned to Elena. “You said I can go—”

  he said, hesitantly. “But may I stay instead? Just until I understand all this,” he added quickly, flushing. “But there’s probably not anyone in all of Kohlstania who could help me, and, and—” he averted his eyes “—well, Father’s got Octavian back. They don’t exactly need me. And I would be truly, deeply grateful if you could help me. I don’t know why The Fairy Godmother

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&nb
sp; I was given this thing, but I can’t see having it and going off to kick my heels at home and not use it.”

  Elena looked at him gravely. “Prince Alexander, you do realize what it means if you take this on yourself? Being a Champion is not—not—”

  “I know it means my life won’t be my own,” he replied, and now he looked up to meet her eyes again. “But it never was, was it? It’s just trading one set of responsibilities for another.” Then an altogetherly unexpected bitter tone crept into his voice. “At least I’ll have real responsibilities, and a real job that no one else can do.”

  She was taken aback by that for a moment; in fact, everyone in the kitchen seemed to be. And strangely enough, it was Rose who answered him.

  “That’s no less than the truth, Prince Alexander,” she replied, and for once there was no half-hidden scorn or irony in her voice. “Become a Champion, truly, and there’ll be no second-son make-work for you.”

  “Then that’s what I want,” he said firmly, and looked back at Elena. “May I stay?”

  But she looked at the other four. “It’s not only up to me,”

  she said. “You only play at being servants here, when all’s said and done. You have as much say in this as I do. I have never, ever heard of a Champion in the household of a Godmother before.”

  “Be damned useful,” Hob said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  “Can’t think of anyone else to send him to,” observed Robin. “And I can show him what to do, I think. It can’t be much different than using a wand.”

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  “I’ll get his things,” said Lily, and “I’ll make up the guest-suite,” said Rose, both at the same time.

  “Well, then, it’s unanimous,” Elena said, trying not to show her elation. “But I will insist on one thing. You must inform your father that you are well. Whatever else you tell him is up to you. I can arrange to have the letter to him by nightfall.”

  He grinned. “I’ll use the things in the study, shall I? Or will you require me to write it in blood?”