“Fair enough for a mortal woman, yet to one whose eyes have feasted on the beauty of the People, there can be little to desire elsewhere.”
“Well answered, Dominic.”
“How goes it on the Other Side, my king?”
The toe of one boot tapped the sand impatiently. “Our enemies are massing in the fastness of La’al. Many misguided brethren have flocked to the Pale Banner but without the key they seek, their treason will not succeed.”
“They will not capture her while I live,” Dominic swore.
“All I ask is that you keep the mortal woman safe-hidden until I have need of her.” The soldier felt the press of his king’s hand on his head like a benediction. “I have chosen well, o best of my soldiers.”
“I hope that you have, my king.”
The hand was withdrawn. “What? Do you doubt me? Or is it yourself you doubt?”
“Neither. Yet I wonder if I might not do more good by remaining with my cadre. I have lived only to he trained for war. Shall my arm, my strength all he wasted watching over one mortal woman, however vital?”
“This is strange talk from you. I chose you because you were the most loyal of all my knights—and the boldest. Now you question me?”
“What good is my boldness here?” Dominic clenched his fists and spoke in little more than a growl. “I have told some few lies to gain entrance to her house. Having done so, what now? Must I sit at my ease while my dearest comrades go to face battle? Eat and drink luxuriously while they suffer hardships?”
“I believe that it is they who pity you, my son. They remain in Mag Mell while you sojourn in the Lands of Sorrowing.”
“You are pleased to jest, my king. Yet... yet...” Dominic spoke the thought that tortured him the most. “Shall not some fall that I might have saved had I been there?”
King Forgall’s voice deepened. “Do you ask me to foretell the future? Not even I, most cunning of all the People, can do that. Yet this I will say ... there may yet be a battle in which you will serve.”
Dominic lifted his head, the light of hope in his eyes. “If it were true . ..”
“For now, you serve me best by obeying my behest. Stay here. Guard the woman. With good fortune, this war will be resolved in one or two weeks, as the mortals reckon the days. You will lose no honor by remaining here instead of waiting out the days encamped among your comrades.”
“As your will commands, my king. Yet—”
Forgall’s laughter was a trifle louder. “Still you contend with me?”
“Let me have word at times of how it progresses.”
“You shall have that. Aught else?”
“A sword, so that if the day should come I shall not be slack through lack of training.”
“You need not ask the King of the People for cold iron, Dominic. Look within that house, for it has withstood war before now.”
Dominic raised his head still further to look upon his king. Forgall was broad across the shoulders and somewhat heavy through the middle, which his long tunic did in some measure disguise. His brown beard showed not a sign of gray, despite his years beyond counting. Only his eyes, deep as the unplumbed depths of the ocean, showed that he was other than a man of about forty.
He was now the eldest among the People, having succeeded to the kingship when the Oldest of All, Boadach, had resigned to become one of the Sleepers, wrapped forever in slumber with his long-since sleeping wife. It was said the Sleepers traveled in the world of dreams, visiting both mortals and immortals to weave their wonders.
Dominic did not think he would like to receive a dream of Boadach’s weaving. The former king had hated humans with a vengeful passion in his life, all the more violently when he’d lost his own dearest child to a mortal man’s love. Not even Dominic’s long service as a warrior to the People would excuse his humanity in Boadach’s eyes.
But Forgall never gave any sign of hating humans. He had invented the spell that made it possible to bring mortals into the Deathless Realm of Mag Mell. Some few had passed therein in days long past, brought by their faery lovers, and made immortal Fay themselves. But Forgall had found a way to bring mortals in, keeping their human qualities over lives stretched far beyond the normal span of days. The reason was simple. No one of the People could wield iron without suffering torments. Humans could.
So Forgall created a small standing army of werreour, stealing mortal boys from their own times, training them, and using them for tasks which the People could not perform—tasks requiring cold iron. When a dragon had gone mad, the werreour had subdued it. When the Dark Forest had tried to encroach upon the peaceful orchards of the Westering Lands, they had come with ax and sword to drive it back. Despite their strength and their valor, they had never yet stood against the kind of army that was massing against the rightful king.
“It enrages me,” Dominic said. “All was well until she came among us.”
“Not so. The signs of decay had already begun. Matilda has merely hastened it. Perhaps—once we are successful—the process will reverse itself and all will be as once it was. If not, then at least we shall have peace for our last days.”
‘“Is peace enough?”
“Ask those who have it not.” Forgall’s head turned and his bird-bright eye sharpened. “One comes. The woman. Be wary. These mortals have charms that we of Mag Mell know not.”
The golden light faded and with it passed the king. The grotto wall was as solid as the day it was first built. Dominic rose slowly, the burden of what he knew heavy in his breast. He put on a show of examining the walls of the grotto.
Lady Stavely—with that name she should have been some middle-aged woman, ripe with dignity and poise— poked her fair head in. “Here you are, Mr. Knight. Admiring the family folly?”
“For what purpose was this place constructed?”
“My grandfather had a foolish fancy to install an ornamental hermit at Hamdry. This was the poor man’s residence, at least during the summer months. What a miserable time he must have had!” She looked about her, and shook her head.
“What is an ornamental hermit?” Dominic asked, watching her carefully.
‘The idea was, it seems, that if one is going to build a ruin that favors the picturesque, one should have the proper personages about to set the tone. I believe one duchess had live sheep and shepherds to provide a living fabric for her rustic folly, while another had girls in antique costumes to stand about her faux Greek temple. My grandfather preferred a hermit.”
“None of these people objected to be used in such a way? It seems most careless of these duchesses and, though I don’t wish to speak slightingly of your family, your grandfather.”
Clarice bowed as if in agreement. “I imagine they were glad enough of regular meals, and one can’t say the duties were onerous. Rather boring, perhaps.”
Casting another glance around, she added, “Almost as boring as this empty place.”
After a moment, she smiled at him. He could not recall anyone ever smiling at him in just that way before— as if she wanted to be friends. Among the werreour, there was an unspoken comradeship based on shared training and those travails they’d undergone. Dominic owed his allegiance to his cadre and to his king. Yet there were no friendships, no seeking out of one particular person over another. His memories of a life before he was stolen away were so dim as to be all but meaningless.
Nonetheless, something in Clarice’s beautiful smile warmed him. He wanted to return it, but he was unused to the exercise. He unbent his lips a trifle, all that he could manage for the moment.
“I find this grotto to be most interesting.” he said.
“My garden is much more beautiful, and not nearly so stuffy! Besides, I believe I saw a spider move in the corner and I abominate spiders.”
“Why? They are useful creatures.”
“Undoubtedly. Yet I am—to be frank—terrified of them. Shall we?”
Dominic found dining to be something of a trial. Not only did he
eat no meat, but there were so many tiny rules of etiquette—the breaking of which would instantly expose him as a fraud. Fortunately, the boy was still indisposed and the table was sufficiently long so that, between the flickering candles and the dim shadows, he felt Clarice could not distinguish the errors he made.
He’d never seen so much metal at one time as was spread out on the tabletop before him. Gold was used a little among the People; silver rarely; iron never. Steel was unknown except in the finest werreour weaponry and that was all stolen from mortal treasuries. Yet here were steel-bladed knives, sterling silver vases, cups, flatware, a candelabra, and even a salver or two. The sight of all that highly polished splendor overwhelmed him and made him feel ever so slightly nervous.
Dominic tested a knife on the ball of his thumb. “Blood-steel,” he said to himself.
“I beg your pardon. Mr. Knight?” Without waiting for his answer, Clarice said, “I really must scold Camber for this ridiculous arrangement. He must have added two leaves to this table. We might as well be seated in different rooms!”
“He is concerned for your reputation?”
“Yes, but they go too far. All of them. That is one of the difficulties with old family retainers, Mr. Knight. They forget that I am mistress here.” She softened. “I cannot blame them, I suppose. They have known me since my childhood and cannot forget it. In somewise, I will always be little Miss Clarice to them, in need of protection.”
He felt her gaze upon him and knew that he had missed again some vital cue. Constantly trying to determine what he had left unsaid or undone was a great strain. An ordinary mortal would have found his path much easier than he, who had to stop and think what would be appropriate.
“You have no need to fear me,” he said and saw her grow haughty once more. When her merry eyes turned cool and her head went up, Clarice resembled very strongly the witch-woman Matilda who threatened the peace and security of the Wilder World. It was a sharp reminder of what he was doing here.
“I need fear no one,” she said. “I have protectors enough.”
Some bustle and noise at the front door caused her to turn her attention away from him. “I wonder what. ..”
“It’s the doctor,” Dominic said, his sharp hearing distinguishing this phrase amid the hum of several people talking at once.
“Doctor Danby? I haven’t sent for him.” She rose from her chair just as the door opened. Camber bowed from the waist and announced the doctor.
Clarice advanced, her right hand held out. Dominic also stood up, holding his knife half-concealed in his large hand, yet at the ready. The enemies of King Forgall might take on any form, even of a wizened old man with no hair. This doctor looked entirely too much like a warlock for Dominic’s peace of mind.
“I’m very glad to see you, Doctor,” Clarice said as the old man bent to kiss her hand. “This morning, Morgain ate entirely too many green apples.”
“I know about the young fool’s behavior at the Yeo orchard. Discovered a bellyache among the branches, eh?”
Dominic found himself being appraised by a piercing pair of eyes under a disconcerting pair of white eyebrows. The doctor was entirely bald on top, with a mottled head. His eyebrows, however, were elegant plumes of white not unlike egret feathers. His voice was harsh and surprisingly deep. Snuff powder marred his old-fashioned waistcoat and black velvet suit. Dominic, who had been carefully tutored in the appearance of a gentleman, wondered at the adept’s untidiness. He bowed when the doctor’s eye fell on him.
Dr. Danby said nothing to him, however. “Yes, I’ll go up and check him over. Young idiot ate what? Why on earth didn’t you stop him? What am I saying? Whoever stopped Morgain from doing as he pleased.”
“Certainly not I,” Clarice said. “He tolerates me, only just, because his parents tell him to.”
Doctor Danby’s rasping sniff might have been meant for laughing agreement. He said, “I’ll report on him before you’ve finished your pudding.”
Clarice seated herself again and indicated with a gesture that Dominic should copy her. “Speaking of protectors ...” she said wryly.
‘‘Yes. we were.”
“He’s one. Doctor Danby. I’d wager he came here with the express purpose of seeing you.”
“I?” No one had warned him that these strange cravats could suddenly grow too tight. “I am in no need of a doctor.”
Her cheeks looked quite pink. “I’m sure he’s come to make sure you are a suitable person to shelter beneath the Hamdry roof. I am such a poor innocent, you see, that any smooth-tongued gentleman may worm himself into my good graces with no more than a compliment.” Suddenly her voice carried without in any way growing too loud. “Isn’t that correct, Camber?”
The butler came in, carrying a gaily decorated china epergne stacked with fruit. “I felt it incumbent upon me to inform the good doctor of your guest. Please forgive me, my lady.”
“Oh, Camber, you’re impossible when you’re humble. Go on with you.”
She pulled a freakishly charming face at Dominic, who was at first taken aback to see her pleasing countenance so distorted. Yet in a moment, he found himself smiling at the memory.
“I told you I was not without protectors,” she said.
“I see it to be true indeed,” Dominic said, wondering how he was supposed to guard her from the king’s enemies when she had so very many friends.
Chapter Four
Doctor Danby stumped into Clarice’s sitting room. “Agreeable fellow, that.”
“Morgain? Agreeable is hardly what you called him last time.”
“Not that scamp! Nothing ails him that a little forethought would have avoided. So I told him. Yet he’d hardly be a boy if he didn’t fall into these scrapes. I was speaking of your unexpected guest. Knight.”
“He seems a little ... I don’t know . .. patronizing?”
“Not a bit of it! Feels just as he ought about staying here. Told me he’d leave in a heartbeat if I thought it wrong.”
“And do you?” Clarice asked, smiling up at him. She sat in an easy chair, a lamp close by on a little table. Her book was held in her lap, with a ringer between the pages, and her reading spectacles had slid halfway down her nose.
“I confess I was thinking it at first, but, lord, Mr. Knight’s no hothead to fall in love with your face and make himself a nuisance to you. A sober, intelligent fellow, and a friend to your own brother-in-law.”
“Exactly what I thought when I’d given the matter a moment’s consideration. It is not as though I were alone here, either.”
“Servants. Hmph.” The doctor folded his lips together as he thought. “I could wish Mrs. Henry were still residing here. A genteel companion is just the thing to keep tongues from wagging.”
“My dear doctor, tongues have wagged over me so often that I have very nearly accustomed myself to the hum. You know to the hour how old I am. If a spinster lady of nearly twenty-seven years cannot entertain a man in her home without being thought fast, when can she?”
“Aye, I know to the hour your age, m’dear, and I tell you frankly there’s not many would take you to be more than nineteen.”
She took her glasses off and folded the stiff wire temples together with a sigh. “Some days I feel forty-five.”
“Eh?” He came near and look her wrist in his cool fingers, counting her pulse. “Slow and even. Can’t be illness.”
“I’m well enough.”
“Bored, eh?”
‘Terribly so. I did not know how much I would miss Melissa until she’d gone. Now I have no one to talk to.”
“With Morgain in the house? He talks enough for two.”
“Yes, he can carry on both sides of the conversation without my adding a word! He’s a dear whom I love for his own sake, quite as much as for his mother’s. Yet, he is just a boy and I want someone ... someone ...”
“You should marry, m’dear.”
“Find me a husband, darling Doctor Danby, and I shall stand in your de
bt.” She rose gracefully to her feet, leaving her book on the cushion. Walking to the window, she pushed aside the blue velvet curtain and looked down into the garden, though she could see little beyond some streaks of pink and gold in the sky. “I envy Felicia so. Her husband came to her like a miracle. I can’t even find one when I search.”
“You should return to London. You had offers....”
“Such offers! A fortune hunter looking for a snug harbor, a dissolute nobleman whose praise of my person bordered on the vulgar, and a couple of youngsters who fell in love with my face. The rest were too frightened of my family’s reputation for eccentricity to come nigh me, though pleased enough to stand up for a quadrille. There was no one to know me and no one to care. I will never go on the Marriage Mart again, Doctor.”
“You’ll never find a husband while you stay holed up in Hamdry.”
This was so true she could not bear to hear it. She forced a laugh. “Never mind me. I’m in the sullens and feeling quite sorry for myself. I’ll come right tomorrow. Now! About Mr. Knight. Though I find him rather arrogant, you think he is entirely harmless?”
“Oh, as harmless as a man could be, I fancy, especially if you’ve taken a dislike to him. And yet it’s a pity we can’t put it about that he’s your cousin or some such.”
“We could ...” Clarice said temptingly. She could see Doctor Danby consider the notion.
“Won’t fadge,” he said after a moment. “Everybody knows your father’s sister’s children all died young. If we went any further afield than that, it’d be just the same as it is now. You wouldn’t perhaps marry your first cousin, though I’ve known it done, but there’s nothing to prevent you marrying a second or third cousin.”
“I wish I had one to marry,” Clarice said, only half in fun.
“There, now. Sooner or later. Providence will provide.”
“I live in hope. In the meantime, I will give house-room to Mr. Knight, as it is what my brother-in-law should like. I only wish I could find that letter so I could show you it.”
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