Hugh snorted but would not comment further, and they waited in silence for John’s return. He reappeared sooner than Rosamund had expected, and his expression was disturbed. “There are two men ahead, and in the very spot we looked to work,” he told them.
“Worse still, they’ve the appearance of the sorcerers you saw at All Hallows‘.”
The fur on Hugh’s back twitched all over, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. Blanche’s eyes widened, and she turned very pale. Rosamund said sharply, “The sorcerers? Thou‘rt sure?”
“They look uncommon like to thy description,” John said.
“What were they about?” Rosamund demanded.
John shrugged. “They drew a circle on the ground; I did not see clearly, though I tried.”
“We must stop them!” Blanche said with sudden passion. Rosamund looked at her with surprise and Blanche said impatiently, “They must seek to do Hugh some further mischief; how else would they be here? Oh come; hurry; we may have little time.”
Hugh made an uncertain noise, half growl of assent, half whine of warning. His fur prickled at the very thought of the half-remembered agony of his slow transformation, but he was equally disturbed by the thought of Blanche facing dangerous sorcerers. John glanced at him, then said to Blanche, “Softly. I do agree with thy purpose, but ‘twill do no good to run our heads into a snare. We must plan what’s best to do, ere we approach these men.”
Reluctantly, Blanche admitted the good sense of this argument, and several minutes more were spent in discussion before they finally set out again, moving as noiselessly as possible in the direction of the clearing at the edge of Faerie.
John’s brief inspection of the area had gone unobserved. Dee and Kelly had little attention to spare for anything besides their preparations. Similarly, Bochad-Bec, watching avidly from the huge oak that spread its branches above the sorcerer’s working area, had eyes only for Dee and Kelly. None of them noticed John.
Dee and Kelly had completed their circle as John left. The two men then set about carefully removing every twig and rock from the ground within it. Kelly removed a folded square of red silk from one of the packs, and he and Dee spread it on the ground they had just cleared. Dee remained to smooth out the wrinkles, while Kelly went back to the packs and began unloading the smaller items that would be required for the spell.
“You’re certain we’ve no need to make all these afresh?” Kelly asked, holding up a knife.
“Nay, Ned, the tablets and the herbs will suffice,” Dee said absently. “They must; ‘twould take a year or more to reforge the lamp alone.”
“I hope you’re right,” Kelly muttered. He pulled the lamp out of the bundle, inspected it for scratches, and set it down beside the knife. Bochad-Bec, peering down through the oak leaves, tensed as the lamp came into view. His eyes darted from Kelly to Dee and back, as if judging the distance between them. The dwarf’s habitual frown grew deeper, and he muttered a curse under his breath.
“There,” Dee said, straightening. “‘Tis done. Shall I set out the brazier, or would you have help?”
“I’ll take your assistance here, and gladly,” Kelly replied. “‘Tis too much for one pair of hands.”
Dee nodded and walked toward him. In the tree above, Bochad-Bec took one final measuring look at the two wizards, then closed his eyes. He pressed his hands against the bark of the tree, his gnarled fingers outspread in a near caress. Softly, he began murmuring.
“The wind is rising,” Kelly commented as Dee approached. “We’ll have no easy time of this.”
The branches of the oak swayed and creaked as if in agreement; then, with a loud grinding noise, one of them tore free and hurtled down upon the two men. Kelly tried to dodge, but was beaten down and trapped in the tangled side branches, while Dee was thrown to the ground under a part of the main section. The tools and ingredients of their spell were scattered and hidden under the spreading leaves. In the instant of calm that followed the crash, while the leaves were still trembling with the shock of the fall, Bochad-Bec leapt down from the oak.
The dwarf landed on his flat, splayed feet and bounced into the air like a ball. He caught one of the projections from the fallen limb and swung himself along it, peering down among the leaves. A gleam of light on polished metal caught his eye and he pounced. Triumphantly, he tucked the lamp under his arm and turned to leave. As he did, his eyes fell on the horrified, half-stunned face of Edward Kelly.
Bochad-Bec gave the sorcerer a grin of fiendish glee and ran along the fallen branch. A moment later he had vanished through the barely visible shimmer of the Faerie border beyond. Kelly blinked and shook his head; then, after briefly inspecting his extremities to make sure everything was still in working order, he began struggling to free himself.
Kelly’s efforts sent a ripple of movement through the leaves and outer branches of the fallen limb. Immediately a somewhat shaky voice called anxiously, “Ned? Is’t you? Are you badly injured?”
“Nay, John, I am but scratched and bruised,” Kelly called. Feeling that this belated reassurance might well be considered inadequate, he added, “‘Twill take me but a moment to get free; then I’ll come to you.”
“Praise Heaven,” Dee said with fervent sincerity. “I, too, am little injured, but I doubt I can get free without help.”
Kelly’s attempts to wriggle out from beneath the branches were more than noisy enough to cover the sounds of a hasty, whispered conference beneath a tall holly bush nearby. Rosamund, Blanche, and their two half-Faerie companions had heard the crash of the falling branch and arrived just in time to see Bochad-Bec abscond with the lamp. Rosamund at once proposed that they follow the dwarf, but John and Hugh instantly rejected that idea.
“Oakmen are surly and dangerous to cross,” John said. “And he’s in Faerie now, where neither Hugh nor I can go.”
“Then let’s accost these others,” Rosamund whispered back. “Belike we can discover more of their plans and purposes.”
“And how wouldst thou explain how it is that two girls are found in company with a man and bear?” John said sarcastically. “No, we’ll learn enough by watching.”
“Blanche and I can go alone, and you shall stay here and watch,” Rosamund said persuasively.
“Look!” Blanche broke in, her tone horrified. “His ears have been cropped!”
All eyes turned toward the clearing. Kelly had succeeded in freeing himself at last, but in the process he had lost the black skullcap he always wore, and the truth of Blanche’s surprised exclamation was clear to them all. “So he’s been taken for wizardry before,” John said in a speculative tone.
“Nay, cutting off the ears is too mild a punishment for witchcraft,” Rosamund said. “He must have been convicted of some lesser crime—theft, perhaps, or forgery.”
“Are you there, Ned?” Dee’s voice, coming from the other side of the fallen branch, had a touch of querulousness. “Are you free?”
Kelly glanced swiftly toward the sound and saw that the swelling curve of the branch screened him from his companion’s view. He gave a sigh of obvious relief and called back, “A moment only, and I’ll be there.” He snatched his skullcap from the ground where it had fallen and shook it to dislodge the twigs and bark, then crammed it on his head. He felt the edges with his fingers to make certain it was properly positioned to hide his deformity; only then did he go to help his fallen friend.
His efforts were unsuccessful. The heaviest part of the branch lay across the small of John Dee’s back; a slight unevenness in the ground was all that had kept him from being crushed. Kelly’s strength was enough to shift the branch, but not quite enough to raise it, and Dee’s agility was not sufficient to enable him to wriggle out from under.
“‘Tis no good, Ned,” Dee said at last. “You needs must fetch help. ”
“And what am I to tell them?” Kelly said angrily. “That we brought red silk and an iron brazier into the forest to gather firewood in? Nay, I’ve no desire to h
ang for witchcraft.”
“Nor have I,” Dee replied. “But my desire to die of thirst and hunger beneath this branch is equally small.” He sighed and suddenly looked older than his fifty-seven years. “This is what comes of greed; it is the judgment of Heaven on our presumption.”
“‘Twas no angel stole away our lamp,” Kelly retorted. “That I’ll swear to.”
“I did not see the apparition of which you speak,” Dee said. “Yet if it was some demon it but proves my point.”
“Have done, John!” Kelly said in exasperation. “‘Twas neither devil nor angel, but some wight out of Faerie, and what its presence proves is that our spell’s had more effect than we knew.”
Within the holly bush, John snorted softly. “He’s right on that account,” he said under his breath to Hugh. “But I’m puzzled what interest an oakman would take in these two.”
“For now ‘tis more important that they leave, else our own work will ne’er begin,” Rosamund said impatiently. “Turn thy mind to that, and save the dwarf for later.”
“We must help them,” Blanche said. “They’ll not think it strange to see Rose and me, and I think we two can add enough to Master Kelly’s efforts to set Master Dee at liberty. ”But you“—she looked at John and Hugh—”you must stay well hid, or they’ll know we’re more than what we seem. “
“No,” John said, and Hugh nodded his agreement.
“We’ve no choice,” Blanche insisted. “Rose—”
“No,” John repeated, and caught hold of her wrist. “There’s no need.”
“But there is!” Blanche whispered urgently, pulling against his grasp. “Dost thou not see it?”
“Thou dost misunderstand,” Hugh rasped. “He’d have thee wait on his attempt ere thou makest thine own. ”
Blanche looked from Hugh to John, and nodded uncertainly. John released her wrist and turned. He studied the scene before him. Kelly was preparing to make another assault on the branch that pinned his companion. As the wizard set his shoulder against the bark, John’s eyes narrowed to slits and he stretched out his left hand.
The heavy oak branch shifted. “Once more, Ned!” Dee cried. Kelly’s face turned purple with effort. Beads of sweat formed on John’s forehead, and his outstretched hand trembled. The branch shifted a little farther and rose slightly as it rolled onto a projecting limb. John Dee made a strangled noise and scrabbled his way to safety; an instant later Kelly sprang away, panting, and the branch fell back to its original position.
“Well done, Ned!” Dee said as he climbed to his feet. “I owe you much. ”
“Well done?” Kelly kicked viciously at the fallen branch. “We’re ruined!”
“Perhaps,” Dee said gently. “But we’re alive, not crushed to death, and that’s worth more than gold, or even knowledge. Thank Heaven for your life, my friend, and let the rest go.”
“Let it go?” Kelly said, his voice rising. “The crystal’s failed and we’ve no hope of remedying it now; by tomorrow eve we’ll look like fools in motley before Lord Laski and the court—and you say, let it go?”
“‘Tis Heaven’s judgment, Ned.”
“‘Tis rather Faerie’s malice! And that I’ll not accept, for all your pious mouthings!”
“What mean you?” Dee said, taken aback by Kelly’s fierceness. Kelly, still scowling heavily, described the dwarf and the stealing of the lamp. When he finished, Dee, too, was frowning.
“This puts a different face on things,” the elder wizard said. “An’t be Faerie that we war with, we may not be altogether lost.”
“How so? Without the lamp—”
“The lamp’s no matter. Think, Ned! An we’d failed as completely as we thought, there’d be no reason for this mischief.”
“Faerie needs no reason save spite,” Kelly said, but the bitter edge was gone from his voice and a sly, considering expression had appeared at the back of his eyes.
“We’ve still some time for study,” Dee said. Kelly rolled his eyes; Dee, preoccupied, did not notice. “Prince Laski will not expect great works all at once; ‘twill be enough to show ourselves men of learning. We need not demonstrate the crystal yet.”
“Now or later, what matters it? The crystal’s dead.”
“I think not, but ‘tis a matter we cannot solve here. Come, Ned!”
Kelly shrugged, and the two men gathered up their scattered implements, brushed the leaves and twigs from their robes, and left. As he passed the shimmering curtain of the Faerie border, Kelly bit his thumb at it; behind the screen of holly, John choked on a laugh. In another moment, the sorcerers were gone and the glen was empty.
CHAPTER · SIXTEEN
“When the dwarf was free, he shook himself. Then he picked up a bag of gold which was lying at the foot of the tree and set off into the woods muttering, ‘Stupid, inconsiderate girls! How dare they cut off a piece of my beard? Bad luck to you both!’ ”
ROSAMUND WAS THE FIRST TO LEAVE THE SHELTERING screen of holly. John followed, frowning, and Hugh and Blanche brought up the rear. Rosamund went straight to the oak branch and gave it a tentative shove.
“I think together we can move it,” she said doubtfully, “but it weighs more than I had thought.”
“Not there, Hugh!” Blanche said. “Thou‘lt wipe out all their drawings, and we’ll learn nothing.”
“We’ve learned enough already, and ‘twill be good luck indeed if we’ve not learned it too late,” John said. “Did none of you recognize that dwarf for what he was?”
Hugh sat down very suddenly. “An oakman, of course,” he growled. “But I had not seen the implications.”
John nodded. “We must leave at once.”
“Leave!” Blanche protested. “But we’ve not even tried—”
A roar from Hugh cut her off in mid-sentence. She and Rosamund both jumped and stared at the bear, wide-eyed.
“Come,” John said, and they followed him out into the forest once more.
John led them well away from the glen and the Faerie border, to a small clearing surrounded by beech trees. He studied them for a full minute before he turned to the girls and apologized for his hurry. “An oakman can, if he chooses, know all that passes beneath his trees,” he explained. “Had we stayed to talk, we’d have had no secrets from him, and I doubt that he’s a friend.”
“Thy doubt’s well justified,” Hugh said. “I know him, and he’s no friend to aught that has the smallest smell of humankind. ‘Twas Bochad-Bec.”
John scowled. “I’ve heard of him, and nothing good. I wish I’d not cast that spell to lift the branch; he cannot help but notice, even if he misses all the rest.”
“But surely he’ll think ‘twas Master Kelly’s work,” Rosamund said.
“I doubt it,” John replied, and his lips twisted in a bitter smile. “No denizen of Faerie could help but recognize so odd a mix of human and Faerie magic as I must use.”
“I see why thou didst stop my tongue,” Blanche said to Hugh. “Though even if he’d heard us, ‘twould surely not surprise him that thy brother aids thee.”
“True enough,” John said in a more cheerful tone, though the glance he shot at Hugh belied his voice. “And if that’s all he learns, we’ve lost little.” He did not add that it was the presence of Rosamund and Blanche that he wished had been kept from the oakman’s knowledge. The human girls were far more vulnerable to the dwarf’s malice than either he or Hugh.
“Little or much, ‘tis too late now to remedy,” Rosamund said practically. “What of the work we came to do? We’ve still the afternoon and evening to try the spell, can we but find a safe and proper place for it.”
“Yes, we must attempt it,” Blanche agreed. “Why, ‘twould be Midsummer ere we could try again, if we let this chance slip. ’Tis far too long to wait.”
“‘Tis not the wait that troubles me,” John began, but Hugh broke in with a growl.
“Before you two take chances with my hide, I’ll thank you to consult Mistress Arden. Or do you thin
k that what we’ve learned has naught to do with the shaping of that spell you intend to use on me?”
Rosamund and Blanche at once begged the bear’s pardon and agreed to return home immediately to ask their mother’s advice. Hugh left them well before they came near the edge of the forest, where they might meet other travelers. John continued on with them, but he was so preoccupied that even Rosamund failed to elicit more than a grunt in response to her remarks and speculations. Finally, just as they were leaving the woods, she taxed him with the flaws in his behavior.
“I crave your pardon, Mistresses,” John said, shaking himself out of his daze and bowing extravagantly. “I am indeed remiss. ”
Blanche smiled, but Rosamund was not so easily satisfied. “If you’d have our pardon, tell us what your mind’s so busy with,” she commanded.
John’s brief good humor vanished, and he hesitated. “‘Tis but a question that worries me.”
“Indeed,” Rosamund replied. “And you worry at it like a dog gnawing at a bone. Tell us what it is; maybe we can enlighten thee.”
“Not this time, I think,” John muttered; then he shrugged and capitulated. “My question’s this: how was it that the oakman interfered in such a timely fashion with Masters Dee and Kelly? Has he some use, perhaps for the lamp he stole? For it seems to me unlikely that ‘twas chance alone that brought him to that spot on this day.”
“Belike he had some spell of his own to try, as we did,” Rosamund said after a moment.
“Belike,” John said in a dry tone that expressed his doubt, and then they reached the Widow’s gate.
“Wait!” Rosamund said as John put his hand on the post. “We’ll go ahead, and see if Mistress Townsend’s gone. We’re back early as it is; ‘twould not be wise to add to her questions by returning in thy company. ”
Fortunately, Mistress Townsend had indeed departed, though they had only missed her by a few minutes. The Widow was both reassured and disquieted by their quick return, and demanded a complete explanation. Rosamund made sure to mention John’s suspicions of the oakman when she told their story, and the dwarf’s possible purposes were the subject of considerable speculation in the Widow’s cottage. The Widow Arden was inclined to agree with John that the oakman’s presence was no coincidence, but she was at a loss for any other explanation. The discussion stopped only when Blanche reminded everyone once again that May Eve Day was passing, and they would soon lose their chance to help Hugh. This prompted an abrupt change in subject, followed by a hasty search for various new materials, before the little group left the cottage once more, with the Widow accompanying them.
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