“I am called the Lady Milethra, Grand Duchess of Faery,” the dame answered with a smile. “Thou art well come among us, Lord Gallowglass.”
Rod hiked his eyebrows; she knew his title. He decided not to remark on the subject. “Uh, in my company are my wife, the Lady Gwendylon, and our children—Magnus, Cordelia, and Geoffrey.”
Gwen dropped a curtsey, and Cordelia mimicked her. Magnus bowed, and Geoff needed prompting.
The Grand Duchess nodded graciously. “Well come, all. A fine crop of young witch-folk, Lord Gallowglass—and please inform your clerical acquaintance that his tact in remaining unseen is appreciated.”
“ ‘Clerical acquaintance…?’ Oh… Father Uwell. I will, Your Grace. If you’ll pardon my saying so, you’re remarkably well-informed.”
“Prettily said,” she answered, with a pleased smile. “Yet ‘tis not so remarkable as all that; little escapes mine elves’ notice.”
The piper grinned up mischievously at Rod, then went on with his piping.
“Ah—do I take it Your Grace, then, knows of our recent loss?”
“Thou speakest of my godson, Elidor.” The Lady folded her hands, nodding. “Indeed, I do know of it.”
A fairy godmother, yet! And was Rod in for a roasting, or a basting? “Your pardon for our lapse of vigilance, Your Grace.”
She waved away the apology with a lacey handkerchief. “There is nought to pardon; with Eorl Theofrin’s spriggans out to seize the lad, there was little thou couldst do to protect him. Indeed, I am grateful to thee for saving him from the Each Uisge; mine elves would have been sore tried to vanquish that monster.”
Which meant they might’ve had to sweat. “Uh—I take it Eorl Theofrin is the faery lord who had us in his power not too long ago?”
“The same. Now, as bad fortune hath it, Elidor is within his power again, where I may not run to save him. Since thou hast aided him in this wise once already, may I ask thee to aid him so again?”
“With all heart!” Gwen said quickly.
“Well, yeah, sure,” Rod said, more slowly. “But I confess to some puzzlement as to why you should wish to employ us in this, Your Grace. Doesn’t a Grand Duchess kind of outrank an Eorl?”
“I do, indeed—yet there is the practical matter of force. Eorl Theofrin’s forces far outweigh mine—and my rank, of itself, suffices only if there is one of paramount rank to whom to appeal.”
“And Oberon’s out of the country, at the moment?”
The Grand Duchess’s eyebrows rose. “Thou dost know the name of the Faery King? Good, good! Aye, he is afield, in the land of the English, for some time. Some trifling quarrel with Titania it is, over some tedious Hindu lad…Ever did I mistrust that shrewish and haughty demoiselle… Enough!” She turned back to Rod with determination. “There is some hope of welding an alliance ‘twixt some other of the Faery Lords; yet few would wish to move against Theofrin, and all dread the illnesses that a war ‘twixt the Faery demesnes would work upon the land, ourselves, and the mortals.”
“And it would take a while to get them all working together.”
“Even so; and the longer Elidor remains under Theofrin’s hand, the harder ‘twill be to pry him loose. Yet mortals stand removed from our quarrel.”
Rod nodded. “We’re a third force that can upset the balance, right?”
“Even so. Most mortals’ power would be too little to counter a faery’s; yet there are are some spells which, if wielded by a warlock or witch, can own to far more power than any slung by one faery ‘gainst another.”
Rod frowned. “I don’t quite understand that. If mortals are magically so much weaker, how could our spells be so strong?”
“Why,” said the Grand Duchess, with a disarming smile, “ ‘tis because ye have souls, which we lack.”
“Oh.” Now that Rod thought of it, there was that old tradition about fairies having no souls. He swallowed hard, wondering what shape his own was in.
“Not so bad as all that,” the Grand Duchess assured him.
“Well, that’s a relief to hear… Hey! I didn’t say that aloud! How’d you know what I was thinking?”
“How not?” The Grand Duchess frowned. “Ah, I see—no other mortals can hear thy thoughts! Rest assured, ‘tis nothing inborn; ‘tis only that, deep within thee, thou dost not wish them too.”
Gwen was staring at him with joy that was rapidly giving place to suspicion.
Rod swallowed. “But why wouldn’t I? Never mind, let’s not go into that just now! Uh—I take it the Faery folk have more thought-reading power?”
“Nay; but we have spells we may use, when we wish it—quite powerful ones. Since that thou art somewhat new to this world, I did wish it.”
“Oh.” Rod felt as though he ought to feel outraged that she hadn’t given him official notice at the beginning of the interview; but he was scarcely in a position to bargain. He wanted Elidor back!
“As do I,” the Grand Duchess agreed. “Yet I confess I am mystified as to why it should matter to thee; he is no kin of thine.”
Good question. Rod spoke the first answer that came to mind. “I seek to return to my own place and time, Your Grace. I think I’m going to need magical help to do it; and getting Elidor to Lord Kern ought to win me a return favor. From you, too, come to that.”
The Grand Duchess leaned forward, peering closely at him. Gwen was staring at him, thinking about getting angry.
“Aye, there is some of that in thy mind,” the Grand Duchess said slowly, “yet there is more of a… guilt.”
Rod winced.
The Grand Duchess nodded. “Aye, ‘tis that—that thou didst take him under thy protection, then failed him. Yet beneath that lies sympathy, sorrow for a poor orphaned child among folk who love him not—and under that lies fear for thine own bairns.” She sat back, satisfied.
Gwen, however, was another matter. She was watching Rod narrowly. Then, slowly, she nodded, too.
Rod felt something snap around his knee. He looked down, and saw it was Geoffrey, hugging his daddy’s leg and peering out wide-eyed at the great big lady.
Rod turned back to the Grand Duchess. “Okay—so I’m trustworthy.” He reached down and patted Geoff’s head. “What do we do?”
“Eorl Theofrin and all his court do ride nightly from Dun Chlavish to Dun Lofmir,” she answered. “If the child’s mother were alive, it would be she, closest to him, who would have to do the worst of it; in her absence, ‘tis thy wife’s place.”
Gwen nodded. “I am ready.”
Suddenly, Rod wasn’t so sure he was; but the Grand Duchess was plowing on. “Do thou hide in the furze by the side of the track, where it tops a rise, for there will they be going slowest. When Elidor’s horse comes nigh, thou must seize him, drag him down, take off his cloak and doublet, turn them inside out, and set them on him again. Then mayest thou lead him hence, with none to hinder thee.”
Gwen frowned. “This will take some time, Your Grace; I have dressed little ones aforetime.”
“I know thou hast; and buying thee the time must be thy husband’s place.”
“Oh?” Rod raised an eyebrow. “And how am I to do that, Your Grace?”
“Why, that is thy concern; thou art the man of war, not I.” The Grand Duchess sat back placidly, hands folded in her lap. “Yet what e ‘er thou dost, be minded—bear wood of ash, and rowan berries in thy cap, and keep cold steel about thee.”
Rod started to ask why, then decided against it. “Well enough—if I can’t think up a diversion by now, I should be drummed out of the Heroes’ Union. But tell me, Your Grace—do you have any idea why Eorl Theofrin stole Elidor back?”