by Karen Myers
Rhys continued, “George knows more than I do about Madog’s original plans and what he’s done to his poor people. He should tell that part when he can”
He looked to Gwyn. “I understand you already know about his intent to take Annwn by force. You should also know that he had Scilti with him.” Rhian looked sharply at him. “Scilti did most of Madog’s dirty work on me, and I expect George will confirm the same for himself. He is very, very dangerous, and now he has no master. He would not have fallen in that final confrontation with Mag, because he wouldn’t have been able to stand where Madog was. That’s a long story in its own right, and we should save it for George, it’s not relevant for planning. Just know that he’s out there.
“One last thing. We never saw your sister Creiddylad while we were there. She’s unaccounted for.”
“No sister of mine,” Gwyn said quietly, with steel in his soft voice.
Rhys rubbed his hands together. “Now, tell me all about this awakening that’s been happening since George destroyed the barrier. It’s the most wonderful news.”
“Someone’s asking for you, mistress.”
Maëlys looked around from her discussion with the two cooks about the day’s menu. “I’ll be right out,” she called.
She wiped her hands on her apron and dodged the dishes coming back with the serving boys, ceding them the passage through the doorway since the plates were breakable and she wasn’t, at least not so easily. She expected to see the man the carpenter said he would send, to start putting in piping for both baths and laundry.
She looked expectantly at the main door to the inn. This was a lutin, not a fae, and one she didn’t recognize. His clothing was ragged and he was worn and faded like his clothes. He held a piece of paper in his hand, and stared at her. Then he smiled, a crooked smile that stopped her heart.
“Luhedoc?”
She ran to him and seized him, in front of all these people, both her workers and her guests. Let them look, she thought.
He grabbed her face in his two hands and stared as if he would eat it. “I don’t understand, you’re no older.”
“What does it matter what I look like, you great fool?”
That set him to laughing and he sounded like her husband again. The room exploded into laughter and applause with him, and she blushed.
“Come with me.” She pulled him into the side room, still a shambles. “Where have you been? How did you find me?”
“This was posted in the place where the manor guards were handing out food and taking names.”
He showed her a notice that said the lutin Luhedoc could find his wife Maëlys at the Golden Cockerel in Edgewood Village. It included a description.
“I walked all night,” he said, simply. “I thought you might vanish.” He looked at her greedily. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Benitoe said he sent something to all the guard posts. He’ll be so happy it worked.”
“Who’s Benitoe?”
Maëlys said, “He’s my new sister-son, and yours. He looked after me. It’s a long story.”
“Are you working here?” he said, listening to the bustle in the next room. “Won’t you be missed?”
She laughed at him, this time. “It’s mine, husband. I’m the new mistress of the inn.” Her smile faltered. “Unless you don’t want to stay, after your troubles?”
He looked around the room, where much work was needed but the structure was sound. He beamed at her. “Why, you’ll be needing an hostler, then, won’t you?”
He sobered, “How long has it been, my sweetling?”
“Eighteen long, long years,” she said, wearily.
“They passed in a fog for me.” He looked at her shyly. “Will you take a worn out fellow back?” he said. “There’s no one else?”
“There never has been, you old fool. Come here.”
George’s dreams turned dark. Madog’s words still echoed like a stain that couldn’t be removed. Fawns, deer children from Angharad, death in childbirth, hunting his children with hounds.
He woke with a start in the morning light to find Angharad shaking him gently.
“Looked like you needed some outside help with that dream,” she said. “What was it? You said something about… fawns?”
Her skirt had a protective cloth over it and her lap was full of wood shavings. He could smell the new-cut wood, a clean scent. She put her knife and a small object down on the table next to his bed, and Maelgwn came up behind her chair and looked over her shoulder.
George mumbled that it was just a dream. Maelgwn said, “No it’s not, you had that one before.”
Angharad regarded him insistently.
He stammered through an explanation, avoiding her eyes. “It was just a taunt Madog made, about using me for breeding, and suggesting I would sire, um, deer, like Cernunnos. It made me think of our child-to-be, of its birth, and your death. Madog put an image in my head of hunting it with the hounds when it was grown.”
She was silent and he was afraid to look at her. He was embarrassed, but the horror of it was also fresh in his mind.
He dreaded her response. What if he’d made her fearful about the coming birth?
“George Talbot Traherne,” she said distinctly, standing up and brushing the shavings off her skirt. “You look at me.”
He obeyed.
Her voice began to rise. “Fawns. You wooden-head. It’s ridiculous you are to fear such a thing. You know that was malice not foresight.”
He blinked. This wasn’t what he’d expected. He watched, riveted, as her temper got the better of her. He’d never seen it happen before.
“And I’ll tell you another thing.” Behind her, Maelgwn’s mouth hung open as he backed up. “If something like that should ever happen, that I bore fawns to you, why they’d be the best fawns in the world and we would cherish them like the wonders they were.”
Her voice rang in the room. “Do you hear me?”
He marveled that she hadn’t stamped her foot yet. He said, meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”
She swept out of the room, muttering under her breath. She left a stunned silence behind her.
Maelgwn grinned at George.
“She’s had a hard night, she’s just tired,” George told him.
Maelgwn’s grin broadened.
George started to chuckle, it was irresistible. Soon they were both laughing uncontrollably.
Rhodri stuck his head in the door and raised an eyebrow at them, but George just waved a hand feebly and wheezed, winding down with a hiccup or two.
“I came by to talk to Maelgwn for a moment first, to see about way-training for him.” He looked at George. “And to welcome you back, big fellow. You’re looking much improved.”
“Feeling it, too,” he said. “What was it like over here, when the barrier went down?”
Rhodri’s eyes shone. “I can’t do it justice. It was like the world started over. A film you couldn’t see just vanished. And if we newcomers felt that way, imagine what the people who’ve been here all that time, hundreds of years, felt like.”
He paused. “You know, we heard the ways collapsing over the mountain. We stood and listened for an hour. I’ve been told that there were people all over Edgewood gathered outside, listening to the thunder.”
“It seems like a long time ago,” George said.
“Only yesterday,” Rhodri said.
The door swung open again, and Rhys came in, looking thin but vibrant, humming with energy. “Hey,” George said, “What’s happened to you?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up delighted to be clean again. Maybe I needed to lose a few pounds,” he said with a grin. “I expect it won’t last, by afternoon I’ll be dragging, but I’m enjoying it now.”
He looked over at Maelgwn. “Foster-brother, I’ve come to take you on a tour of the manor.”
“Hey,” Rhodri said, “I was here first.”
Maelgwn was bewildered at the attention. George said to him, “T
hink of them all as a pack of older brothers. You’ve got a lot of them, now. You can choose which you’d rather do.”
Maelgwn bowed to Rhodri and said, “Thank you, sir, but my foster-brother has a claim on me.” He walked off with Rhys who grinned at Rhodri in triumph.
“How do you do it, George? A few days in your company and he already sounds like you.”
“Does he?”
“He does.” Rhodri took Angharad’s vacated chair. “Now, since you’re awake, tell me all about the ways over the mountain. Tell me what you found.”
Gwyn looked in before opening the door all the way. George waved him in from his bed, interrupting the conversation with Rhodri.
“I saw Angharad outside just now…” he said. “What happened?”
“She scolded me, and rightly,” George said, laughing. “I imagine she’s a bit embarrassed about losing her temper.”
“You must have done something very bad,” Gwyn said, solemnly. “It doesn’t happen often.”
“Better get used to it. I was an idiot, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. I’m sure to set her off again.”
Gwyn smiled down fondly at him. “It’s good to see you so much better. I was there last night, for the healing. I can hardly believe the difference.”
“Yes, I remember.”
Gwyn brought another seat up to join Rhodri. “Seething Magma must have returned and gone straight to the conservatory. I think she couldn’t find you.”
“Cernunnos had me, it must have confused her.”
“She picked up that dog collar she used for your symbol and thrust it in everyone’s face, looking for you. When she reached me, I felt she had every right to come.”
“It was the best thing to do. It’s what convinced Cernunnos to keep me around,” George said.
“No, you’re wrong,” Gwyn said. “You did that. You executed justice for Seething Magma, and he judged you worthy.”
George was taken aback by that interpretation. He’d have to think about it, later.
A thought struck him. “Rhodri, what about the way Mag made coming back with Cloudie? You’ve claimed it, haven’t you?”
Rhodri leaped to his feat, chagrined. “In all the excitement, I forgot. Fixing that now.” He ran out of the room.
Gwyn asked, “What are you worried about?”
“Mag makes open, unclaimed ways. Anyone can pass through them until they’re claimed.”
“You’re thinking about refugees from across the mountain?”
“I’d like to know where Scilti is,” George said, darkly.
“Hmm,” Gwyn said. There was silence for a moment. “I have a question, if you’re up to it.”
“Feel free.”
“Just how did Seething Magma kill Madog? Last night you asked her if she took your suggestion.”
George smiled fiercely. “We lured him into an old bare garden with a wall around it. He had to come alone because it contained hundreds of ways no one else could see. Then we killed those ways. That left him no way to escape quickly, though he could dodge around. You understand?”
Gwyn nodded.
“Mag didn’t think she could catch him, when we worked on the plan. I suggested she open a way through him, a non-traveling one.”
Gwyn’s eyes widened.
“She’s really good at that, of course. Quick, precise. Deadly, too, I expect.” George laughed coldly. “That’s the only way left in Madog’s domain, now. The one that killed him. Other than the one Mag used to leave. Too bad it was so damn quick.”
Gwyn shuddered. “How… appropriate.”
George looked at him. “That’s one thing I’m not losing any sleep over. It was long overdue.”
Gwyn nodded.
“I need to tell you some of the things I learned over there,” George said. He talked for a few minutes about Madog breeding captives, about killing way-finder families, about the general state of what he’d observed.
“What’s going to happen to the place now? Can they be helped? Will it just collapse? You know, I killed their barrier way, too, so they’re going to have their own version of the awakening, and eventually they’ll realize they’re no longer hemmed in.”
“We haven’t decided what to do yet, but we can’t have chaos on our borders,” Gwyn said. “Why weren’t Madog and Creiddylad affected by the barrier ways? Or any of the people they brought to my court?”
“Scilti, too,” George said. “I don’t know. It has to be some sort of technology that Madog developed, but I don’t know what. The barrier doesn’t affect me either, but that’s different. I know that Madog had the same limitations Rhodri does, he couldn’t touch Cloudie, for example. But he’s had many hundreds of years to marry his way skills to his magic ones, and I’m not the right person to tell you what’s possible. Remember those spell-sticks he gave to Cyledr Wyllt for the great hunt. He seems to have been very inventive.”
A thought occurred to him. “You know, the barrier was much further away from Madog’s court than our barrier was, here. Maybe there’s a simpler explanation, maybe it’s just a matter of distance.”
Angharad pushed open the door and looked into the room. He was very happy to see her, and very tired. “Forgiven me yet?”
She stalked in and told him, mock-severely, “I’m considering it.”
She looked at Gwyn who was already rising. “Out. He needs his rest. You can come back later.”
Gwyn bowed to her, and turned to George. “Thank you, great-grandson. We’ll talk again.”
George barely heard him, his eyes on Angharad. She sat down and held his hand. “Anything you want?” she asked quietly.
“Got any more oranges?”
She picked one up and rubbed it on her hands. When she let him inhale the mingled scents, deeply and repeatedly, he could feel some of the tensions within fade away, comforting like a deep massage. He remembered nothing after the fourth deep breath.
CHAPTER 31
George was up again in the afternoon when Benitoe came by, sitting at a table with the remains of a meal.
“You just missed our late breakfast. Bacon and eggs and orange juice.” He laughed at Benitoe’s blank look. “May sound exotic to you, but it’s a taste of my human life. They asked me what I wanted and I told them. Angharad provided the oranges.”
He was even more pleased to be able to sit down. Eluned had submitted when he insisted on removing the splints immobilizing his knee. He had to exercise the leg to strengthen the new bone and muscle, he told her, and she agreed. A soft wrapping protected the joint from accidental knocks, and he felt liberated. The robe he wore was too small, but at least it covered him.
He looked down at Maelgwn who was slowly finishing his orange segments and smelling his hands. “His first orange,” he said to Benitoe.
“I’ve never had one either,” Benitoe said. “They smell good.”
Maelgwn stood up and offered him a segment. The two of them were much the same size. “I’ve had plenty, sir, please take one.”
Benitoe thanked him and tried to bite it in half, cautiously, then blinked as it sprayed him with juice.
George laughed and gave him a cloth to wipe his face. “Well, what do you think of it?”
“Juicy. Sticky, too.”
Even Angharad laughed at that. “They’re common enough in the human world, but hard to transport in ours.”
She piled the dishes on one corner of the table and brought out a cloth, a comb, and a pair of scissors.
“Sorry, Benitoe,” she said, as she stood behind George, “but haircuts are next on the agenda. You can talk at the same time, if you don’t mind.”
George said, “I hear the lutins are found. I want to hear all about it.” He listened as Benitoe recounted some of the story. As Benitoe talked, George tried to puzzle out what was different about his whipper-in since he’d last seen him. He’d always been, what, solitary I guess is the word I’m looking for, despite his betrothal to Isolda. He doesn’t look that
way anymore.
He interrupted Benitoe’s account. “What’s happened to you? What’s changed?”
Benitoe looked down a moment, then met George’s eyes. “You remember Maëlys?” he said.
“Of course.”
“She, well, she’s adopted me into her clan. She’s my real auntie, now.” George wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he could see its effect on him. That was it, he thought, he didn’t look solitary any more.
“Like my foster-father adopted me,” Maelgwn said, proudly.
“That’s right.” Benitoe smiled at him.
“Congratulations on your new family,” Angharad said, as she trimmed George’s hair.
“Maëlys has taken the inn in the village. She’s restoring it while we look for her husband.”
George blinked. “That’s a big job.”
“It is, but she seems to have it well in hand. I think she welcomes the challenge.”
George heard Angharad’s muttered, “I should think so,” behind him and suppressed a smile.
“Well, I’ll leave you some privacy and come back later,” Benitoe said, heading for the door.
It opened in front of him and Rhian came in, tentatively, letting him out.
“Eluned said you were up…”
“Come on in. Maelgwn, this is Rhys’s sister, Rhian. She’s just a couple of years older than you, and she’s the junior huntsman for Gwyn’s hounds.”
Maelgwn stood up from the table and bowed very politely. Then he looked at George. “Does that make her my foster-sister, like Rhys is my foster-brother?”
“I suppose that’s up to her.” He caught her eye and she smoothed out her startled expression.
“Yes, Maelgwn, I’d like that. I’ve never had a younger brother before.”
“I had one once, and a little sister, too.” George hated to hear him speak of it and his muscles tensed, but Angharad’s hand squeezing his shoulder stopped him from saying anything.
Rhian sat down at the bench along the table across from them and patted the spot next to her. “Will you tell me about them?”
Maelgwn began his story.
Maybe Angharad was right, he thought. These are his ghosts and he has to come to terms with them, not remember them only in their deaths.
