"We are, Magnus. And the signs of erosion are there-this was indeed a river's channel once."
The mist lightened, and thinned; Magnus could see the layers of rock to either side, glinting with flecks of micaand the mouth of the pass before them. "Where there was a river, there may be a lake, may there not?"
"Yes, Magnus. Of more importance is that a former channel may indicate the river's course has changed-which would produce the oxbow lake your father spoke of."
"Even so." Magnus nodded. "Let us see what lies beyond the pass."
They came out into the false dawn, the whole land half-lit by the eerie, sourceless light-and the land fell away before them, sloping down to a flat yet restless surface: the curving lake, ruffled by the wind.
Magnus felt tension bring him to full alertness. "What shall I do now?"
"Use the mistletoe," Fess suggested.
"In what manner?"
The robot was silent, searching its memory, correlating. "The ancients who used mistletoe in their worship threw gifts to their gods in their forms as objects of nature. Think of this Green Witch as a river spirit; your gift is the mistletoe."
Magnus nodded and slipped out of the saddle. "Bide thee here, then, for I must pace down to the water's edge."
"I shall-but I shall come quickly if you call, Magnus."
"Do, I prithee." The young warlock hefted his rowan shield, cupping the berries in the crook of his arm, and broke off a bunch. He marched slowly down to the bank, then threw the mistletoe into the water, crying, "Maid of the Lake, I cry thy mercy!"
The water lay still.
Magnus was just beginning to think he had failed, and to see the whole night's ride as a senseless charade, when ... Water burst upward into a fountain, and a woman rose from the lake. Magnus stared, for this was not the crabbed old crone he had expected, nor even a woman in the fullness of maturity, but a girl younger than he, at least to the eye, clad only in the long, dark hair that fell about her shoulders, past her breasts and down her hips. He felt a pain within him, a sudden wrenching; her beauty took his breath.
Then she was out of the water, speeding across the waves to the shore, plunging away from him into the night. Magnus, jolted from his trance, cried, "Fess!"
"Here, Magnus." The great black horse was beside him in an instant.
Magnus dropped the mistletoe and leaped astride. "Chase her, Fess! I have come too far, have waited too long, am too sorely in need to be denied!"
Fess bolted off after the fleeing form, rejoicing that Magnus seemed once again fully alive.
For a wonder, she ran more quickly than the horse. Or perhaps no wonder, after all-she was a magic worker. Magnus rode entranced by the sight of the long, perfect legs flashing in the moonlight, of the glorious mane that swirled about her as she ran, cloaking her far better than a gown. Magnus focused his thoughts in a summons. "Fox and eagle! Falcon! I cry thine aid, in return for mine! Turn this woman from her path!"
And they were there, so quickly that they must have been following, the eagle and falcon flying straight at the lass's face, the fox leaping up to yap at her ankles. She faltered, halted, trying to fend them off-and Fess caught up to her. She turned, alarmed, as the horse swerved around in front of her, and her hair billowed about her, cloaking her in night. Magnus felt his heart seize up and his breath choke off at the perfection of her form, the curve of paleness that showed beneath her hair. He was not even aware that the eagle, falcon, and fox had melted away as suddenly as they had come.
The maid retreated a step. "Sir, wherefore comest thou so unseemly upon me?"
Breath came again, and Magnus protested, "Maiden, I would not impose upon thee for the world-but my heart's blood doth drain within me, and only thou canst aid me." Somehow, though, the pain of his heart already seemed lessened.
She stared, wide-eyed, then made a sudden gesture as though she were spreading a veil over herself, and she stood before him in a gown of rich crimson, a golden chain lying about her hips to form a Y, its long end hanging down before her. "Nay, good sir, there is no need for that sword that hangs at thine hip, nor for the shield of rowan that hides thee!"
"The shield, milady, wards my heart."
"If thou dost hope for cure from me, thou must needs let that sundered organ ope to me." She advanced a step, holding out a hand. "Come, lay down thy shield."
Somehow, Magnus found himself standing on the ground; dimly, he remembered dismounting. Her hand seemed to wield the strength of a giant; he let the shield swing down by his side and drop from nerveless fingers.
"Come, then." She stretched out her hand, and he caught it. Slowly, step by step, they went back down to the water, where she took up the bunches of mistletoe he had brought. "Thine offering, kind sir-and thy cure." She took him by the hand and led him into the lake. "Trust in me," she said softly, "or I can avail thee naught."
Eyes fixed on her, he followed with mechanical steps; he did not think he could have resisted if he had tried. The waters closed over his head.
Fess watched, waiting, poised to dash in and pull a drowning man from the lake-but before the three-minute limit had passed, he saw, by the pre-dawn light, the maiden and the youth climbing up from the water onto an island that stood well out from shore, with a small hill on it. The woman turned to the hill, and a door opened in its side. She led the wounded warlock in, and closed the door behind.
Fess dropped his systems into standby mode, satisfied that his master's son was temporarily safe, at least physically. He could only await developments now.
The developments, to Magnus, were delightful and wondrous. The Maid of the Lake took his doublet from him, then made a poultice of the mistletoe and bound it round his chest, over the left nipple. Then she conducted him to a downy feather bed, an acre wide it seemed, that lay in another chamber, lit by the fire in a grate. "Lay thee down, sir knight," she murmured, and helped him, supporting him enough so that his fall was controlled, and his body unhurt as his mind drifted into oblivion. He was dimly aware of gentle hands pulling off the rest of his clothing, then of nothing else.
He dreamed--of nothing concrete, of no pictures or signs, with only fleeting images that blew through his mind, commanding attention for a few moments, then gone: the milkmaid who had tried to bind him under her spell, the wenches of the Floating World, the witch in the tower, the beautiful woman who had left him to mourn by the lakeside. With each there was pain, at first poignant, then eased; and with each memory, the pain became sharper. At thought of the merciless beauty, the pain seemed almost unbearable, then subsided, then was, miraculously, gone. Her face receded into a shifting, swirling series of colors and amorphous forms; delightful aromas that filled his head, constantly changing; the most delightful of sensations against his skin, so pleasant they seemed almost sinful-but that could not be, for there could be no sin in dreams. They came, after all, without his will, even in spite of his will. So there was no sin in treasuring the delicate sensations, the exquisite pleasures, the waves of delight that built and built to a shuddering ecstasy ...
And the long, silken slide into velvet oblivion.
Sunlight touched his eyelids; scarlet enveloped him. He opened his eyes and found that he lay in the huge feather bed, with sunlight streaming in through a high window, almost directly overhead. He lay still, musing and remembering....
He turned, startled.
She lay beside him, the most beautiful face he had ever beheld, full lips curving sweetly, huge eyes watching him with merriment-and beneath it, concern. "Art thou well, wizard?"
At her words, the wariness left him; he went limp with relief-and realized that he felt whole and filled, far more healthy than he had been in an age. "Aye, milady. More well than ever I have been in my life."
"I am pleased to hear it," she murmured, and levered herself up, moving closer, lips covering his in a long, lingering, and loving kiss. She took her head away, looking at him with a secretive smile, then laughed and rolled away, gathering a robe
about her as she rose, and stepped away through an archway. "Come, sir! The day is full, and thou art sound."
With amazement, Magnus realized it was true. The faerie child was only a memory now, with the reflection of pain; his humiliation by the hag in the tower seemed inconsequential. Joy welled up within him, and a feeling of wonderful, immense freedom. "I shall not die after all! I can never thank thee enough, maid!"
But she had gone out where she could not hear him, leaving him to dress, and to ponder how she could have healed him so thoroughly and with such ecstasy, and still be the Maid of the Lake.
Fess was glad to see him, but tactful enough not to say anything while the maid was present. "Mount," she instructed, and Magnus swung up into the saddle. She saw the question in his eyes, and lifted a finger to press against his tips, forestalling the words. "Thou mayest not stay by me, nor ever come hither again, unless thou art so badly wounded as thou wast but now-and that thou'lt not be, for I've taught thy heart, and the deepest part of thy mind, how to heal themselves, if they will."
"Can I find no way to thank thee?" Magnus protested. "Thou art a warlock, and a puissant one, I wot. Thou knowest now the manner of healing I've given thee. If thou wouldst show me thanks, do thou to other wounded souls as I have done to thee, healing and mending the hurts that none can see."
"Why, so I shall," he whispered.
"Go, now," she commanded, "and go without fear or doubt-for as I've taught thee to mend thine heart, I've taught thee to mend thy body also. If thou art wounded, thou wilt tell the smallest parts of thy body to cleave to one another; thou canst bid thy blood to cease to bleed, thy wounds to close. Nay, thou mayest yet be killed in a single blow, thou canst feel grievous pain-but thou shalt live, no matter what wounds are given thee, so long as thou dost wish to."
"Why, I shall wish so, now." Magnus reached out to touch her. "I shall wish to live, if for naught but the chance that I might someday see thee again."
But she caught his hand, though she kissed the fingers. "Why, then, court danger, in defense of others-and when thou hast given so much of thyself that thou hast naught left to give, find me again, and I'll replenish thee."
"I shall." She had just given him reason to kill himself trying to help other people.
She looked into his eyes, a merry roguish glance, then commanded, "Go!"
Fess turned and moved off. Magnus kept his eyes on her as long as he could, till his body's turning forced him to look away. Even then, he looked back once, to see her, a slender form in crimson velvet, hand upraised in farewell. Then a cloud crossed the sun, a shadow glided past, and she was gone.
13
While Gwen slept, Rod called Fess, via radio, and asked for a progress report; the robot told him that Magnus had found the healer and gone into her dwelling. When Gwen waked, Rod duly informed her, and they settled down for their anxious vigil.
They didn't have long to wait, though, before Fess assured them that Magnus was leaving the lake, alive and well-and looking far more cheerful than he had for quite some time. Half an hour later, Magnus's thoughts touched them briefly: I am well, my parents. Prithee, await me by the lake where thou didst find me.
May we not come to thee? Gwen asked.
Magnus considered, then thought, At home, then. I shall teleport thence, and Fess will come as he may. . . . He is agreeable.
I think I may be able to care for myself, the robot concurred.
Rod nodded, relieved. At home, then. He took his wife's hand. "Come fly with me!"
Gwen smiled, and summoned her broomstick with a thought. It came arrowing to her; she reclined sidesaddle, and rose into the air. Rod concentrated on being beside her, and caught up.
They landed in the courtyard-to find Magnus coming out of the keep with a backpack. Gwen threw her arms about him. "Praise Heaven, my son! That thou art well!"
"Thank also the Maid of the Lake." Magnus disengaged her with a gentle smile, stepping back.
Rod caught his arm and clasped his hand. "We were worried."
"Thou hadst need," Magnus said gravely, "but Mother did direct me well. I am healed."
"And off again?" Gwen glanced at the pack. "How is this, my son! Whither dost thou wander?"
"Away," Magnus said gravely. "Far, far away. I can no longer stay on Gramarye, Mother."
She cried out in protest, grasping him by the shoulders, searching his eyes-and his mind-but met only surface thoughts, and a stern resolve. She stepped back, composing her face. "So that is the way of it, then." She braced herself for Rod's fury.
But it didn't come. Watching Magnus, she saw that he was braced, too, and just as surprised. They turned to Rod, and found him grave and sad, but nodding. "Yes. You do have to go, son-as I had to leave my father's home. Only my father's eldest had to stay-and I wouldn't force that on a dog." He sighed and reached up to clasp the young giant by the shoulder. "I've known it had to come some day, so I'm prepared. Well, at least the apprehension is over."
Gwen and Magnus both stared at him, amazed.
Rod smiled, amused. "Go well-and write home often." Fess came trotting into the clearing.
Rod turned. "You came fast enough!"
"I can move more quickly without a human to protect," the robot explained.
"And probably started another dozen local pouka legends, while you were at it. Good thing you hurried-we need your services."
"In what way, Rod?"
"It's time, Fess. Magnus has to leave the planet."
"Ah." The horse sounded sad. "The Wanderjahr Well, I shall be honored to accompany him."
Gwen cried out in protest; so did Magnus. "My father! I could not deprive thee of thy boon companion!"
"How did you think you were going to get off planet?" Rod turned, with a sardonic smile. "Fly? You're good, son, but I don't think you could achieve lightspeed-and I would be very surprised to discover you could shift into H-space." He frowned. "Or maybe not surprised, come to think of itbut I'd rather you had a ship around you, in any event. And my ship doesn't fly without Fess to run it."
Magnus was still, trying to correlate all the factors, trying to find another way. There wasn't any. Slowly, he nodded. "I thank thee, then, my father. And thou, Fess-though I regret the inconvenience."
"It will be no inconvenience, Magnus."
"You can send him back when you buy your own ship," Rod added. "You don't have to, though."
"I shall, my father."
"Come." Gwen set a hand on his arm. "There are some to whom thou must needs say farewell." She called by mind: Cordelia! Geoffrey! Gregory!
Twin explosions signalled the arrival of the young men; Cordelia came out of the keep, frowning. "Aye, Mother?"
"Thy brother is bound away, for a space of years," Gwen said, in tones that brooked no disagreement. "Tell him farewell."
With a wordless cry, Cordelia threw herself into her brother's arms. He held her gently, looking down at the crown of her head, stroking her back, his face carefully impassive. Rod left them to it, and led Fess around behind the keep. He knew there was plenty of time-Brom O'Berin would have to be summoned, and Puck, and Toby and Alain and Diarmid, maybe even Their Majesties. Whether he wanted it or not, Magnus was going to get a farewell party, however impromptu.
Rod opened the hatch in Fess's side, took out the silver basketball, and disconnected its cable. The black horse body stood stock-still.
Handle with Care, Fess's voice said behind Rod's ear.
"I always do. You don't really think I'd drop you just to keep Magnus home, do you?"
Would I do you so grave an injustice? "I don't like the way you say `grave.' "
Rod took Fess's "brain" down into the dungeons. There, he plucked a torch from a sconce, thought at it until it lit, and went down to the end of the passage. There, he set the torch in a sconce, pressed the third stone block from the right in the fifth row down, and stood back as a section of the wall grated open. It left a doorway that was a little lower and a little narrower than most, b
ut was still quite usable. Rod took down the torch and stepped through, leaning against the door to push it closed. Then he set off down the tunnel.
The elves had dug it for him, right after the family had decided to move in permanently. Rod had flown his spaceship in by night, telling Fess to make it bury itself in the meadow just across the moat, and the elves had covered it over with dirt. The locals had thought the bare dirt circle that was left was a fairy ring, and they hadn't been too far off.
It was very convenient-there were times when Rod needed the ship's lab and library facilities. More importantly, though, his escape route was handy, if he ever needed it in a hurry. Not that he ever had-but ten years as a secret agent had left him with a very cautious set of mind.
At the end of the tunnel was the rugged exterior of the spaceship. Rod pressed his thumb against the silver patch in the midst of the pocks and craters, and a larger-than-average crater swung out as a hatch. Rod stepped in, went to the control room, and connected the silver basketball to its cable in a niche. He clamped it in position and closed the panel. "Remember, now-you want to make an Appearance."
"My sense of the dramatic has not suffered from close association with you, Rod."
"Great." Rod smiled. "Take good care of the boy, huh?"
"I will, Rod. I have, for twenty years."
"True, Chiron. And see that he writes home a lot, okay?"
"If he does not, Rod, I will. You should rejoin the party, now."
When Rod came back, he found that there were at least two dozen people circulating around Magnus, hugging him, shaking his hand, and wishing him well. There was at least as much weeping as there was laughter-and, sure enough, Their Majesties had somehow managed to drop what they were doing and come in time. Elves circulated with trays of food and drink, and whenever people left Magnus alone for a moment, Puck was cuffing his knee and detailing all the marvels and wonders he would encounter.
Rod joined them, keeping his smile carefully fixed in place.
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