Lisane frowned. “How so?”
“It was as I rode the Bear to visit my family-”
“You were upon the back of a Bear when you were so-called spurned?”
Camille nodded.
Lisane laughed. “Ah, then, ’twas the presence of the Bear that caused such.”
“But I was told that when one loses her virgin’s blood…”
“Oh, la, Camille, ’tis not virgin’s blood which draws the Unicorn, but rather purity of heart.-Gods know, were it virgin’s blood, then long past Thale would have left me. ’Tis but an old wives’ tale you did hear.”
“Oh,” murmured Camille, her heart suddenly lighter. Then she grinned and said, “In this case, ’twas an old fra’s tale, bolstered by a votary of Mithras.”
Lisane shook her head and faintly smiled. “I oft wonder if fras and votaries and heirophants and other such have the faintest notion of Truth.”
Again a quietness fell between them, but then Lisane frowned. “What is it you do seek?”
“A place east of the sun and west of the moon. I was coming to you in the hopes you would know where it might be.”
Slowly Lisane shook her head. “I know not where this place lies, but mayhap the cards will know.”
“Cards?”
“Aye. I use them for divination. That’s how I knew you were coming. Oh, not you specifically, but that someone sought me and was on the way, or so the cards did say. That’s why Thale and I were waiting along the road. We would have fetched you the following morn, yet the storm intervened, a thing the cards did not see.”
Camille frowned, then cocked an eyebrow. “These cards, they are taroc?”
“You know of them?”
“Only as a game, as well as what some people say: that there are those who can read the future within an arcane spread.”
Lisane turned a hand over in a small negative gesture. “They do not foretell the future, Camille. They speak not to what will be, but rather what might be, and then only if the reader has interpreted them wisely and true, and only if the acts they portray are not contravened by actions unshown.”
“Hmm… Sounds much like the pronouncements of fras and votaries and heirophants,” said Camille, grinning.
Lisane laughed gaily. “Touche, Camille. Touche.”
Camille’s smile faded, and she looked into the now-empty cup. “How long ere I can go onward?”
Lisane sighed. “A sevenday or so, mayhap.”
“Seven more days?” Camille tried to struggle up in protest, but, nearly swooning, she fell back. Then she whispered, “Oh, but I must not tarry.”
“Hush, hush, Camille. You cannot press on as you now are. Heed, you were most seriously ill-the ague, I believe-and it took much out of you.”
“The ague?”
“Aye. Mayhap caused by ill vapors of the mire, mayhap by the boghole you waded into, and for that I am most sorry. Mayhap ’twas brought on by a biting fly or mosquito, for ’tis said that some carry ill vapors in their sting, though the charm I cast should have protected you from their bites.”
“Charm?”
“Aye, the gift I bestowed upon you when I played the crone.”
“Ah, then that’s the reason!” exclaimed Camille. “I wondered why the pesky pests left us alone, whereas upon our entry into the clutches of that mire they did anything but.” Camille sighed and shuddered, adding, “Would that you had cast a charm against leeches as well.”
“Leeches?”
“Aye. From the boghole.”
Lisane shook her head in rue. “Mayhap ’twere leeches gave you the ague, for surely they carry the worst of ill offerings a mire can bestow.”
Camille reached out and laid a hand upon Lisane’s. “Berate not yourself, Lisane, for perhaps it wasn’t the swamp at all made me ill, but instead was the icy storm.”
“Mayhap,” replied Lisane, yet her arching of an eyebrow spoke otherwise.
They sat wrapped in their thoughts for a moment, each looking beyond the window to where a Unicorn cropped grass. Finally, Lisane said, “You did babble of an encounter with Spriggans, and, if so, ’twas they who caused the blow.”
“I wondered,” said Camille. “Vivette and Romy said they could bring on storms.”
“Aye, indeed they can,” said Lisane. “Given its fury, I thought it might be Spriggan-sent, and then did Thale go seeking you.”
Camille smiled. “Not only did Thale save me from the storm, but it was you who saved me from the Spriggans within their cave.”
Lisane’s eyes widened in shock. “You were in their cave?”
Camille nodded. “They stole my goods, but I retrieved them, yet wouldn’t have were it not for your words spoken as a crone. Ah, but you should have seen them run about in panic when I stepped within their vault wearing inside-out clothes. Better than iron.”
“Better than iron,” Lisane echoed. “Even so, ’twas a dangerous thing you did, venturing into their den.”
“Dangerous or no,” said Camille, “I could not let them keep my belongings. And were it not for the words of the crone-were it not for your words-they would have.”
Lisane sighed. “I thought you would set camp wearing inside-out clothes, for then they would not have taken your goods.”
Camille’s eyes widened in realization. “Ah, I see: ‘Even when night lies on the sward, Wrong-side-out stands sentinel ward.’ Oh, Lisane, ere I came unto the Spriggans’ cavern, I thought the crone’s words-your words-nought but the babblings of a mad old woman.”
A slight smile fleetingly crossed Lisane’s face. “Ah, me, mayhap I should have made my warning more plain… Still, I knew not for certain the Spriggans would come upon you, only that they might, or so the cards did say.”
“The taroc cards.”
“Aye.”
“Then this time they did say true.”
Lisane nodded.
Camille squeezed her hand, and Lisane grinned and squeezed back. Then she stood. “I have some broth warming, and ’tis time we began putting some strength back into you. Too, I would hear your full tale.-But first…” Lisane felt of Camille’s forehead, then smiled and opened the window, swinging it inward, allowing fresh air to waft through. Momentarily, Thale looked up at this movement, then resumed cropping grass.
Two days later, Camille was finally strong enough to venture outside. It was then she discovered that Lisane’s small two-room dwelling was wholly within the massive trunk of a great willow tree more than a hundred feet tall, its long swaying branches hanging down all ’round, though sunlight clearly shone through.
“That’s why they name me the Lady of the Bower,” said Lisane, “for does it not look as such?”
“Oh, it’s much more, my lady,” breathed Camille. “ ’Tis a place of wonder.”
Camille walked about the massive girth. There was but one door into the trunk, and it a bright yellow hue; two windows looked out on the world-one in each chamber. Both the door and the windows had willow-bark shutters, such that when they were closed, the trunk looked entirely whole, and nought could be seen of the dwelling within.
Shaking her head at the marvel, “Indeed, ’tis truly a wonder,” said Camille as she came to the sward, where Lisane sat on a blanket.
Lisane smiled, then poured tea, and they sat and sipped the drink, while tasting small, sweet cakes. Scruff chitted and scratched about for insects, and Thale stood nobly by.
After a while, Camille said, “Lady, I think it is time I returned your bed to you. I will sleep on the pallet in yon chamber where you have been.”
Lisane shook her head. “Nay, Camille. I oft arise in the night and read the cards by candlelight. I would not disturb your sleep. Think no more of it.”
Camille started to protest, but Lisane pushed out a shushing hand and passed Camille another small cake.
And as the day slowly went by, Camille took in fresh air and basked in the sunlight, warming in the rays. Finally, Lisane said, “I shall read the cards for you this eve.”