“Why, ‘twould be a triumph for him, to number a king amongst his mortal captives,” the Grand Duchess answered, “and besides—he hath a score to settle with thee, hath he not?”
Rod remembered the Faery Lord’s last threat. Slowly, he nodded.
So did the Grand Duchess. “Belike he guessed thou wouldst seek to rescue Elidor, and thereby put thyself again within his grasp.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Worked, too, didn’t it?” Rod said, with a sardonic smile.
“That is a problem with goodness,” Father Uwell sighed. “It can be used against you. Not that the evil ones don’t overbalance themselves occasionally, too… Here she comes!”
Cordelia swooped down over the treetops, skimmed low over the meadow grass, and brought her broomstick in for a two-point landing. She hopped off, and reported to Gwen, “There is the mound we saw last night, Mama, and another like it perhaps a mile away. And a track connects them.”
Gwen nodded. “The one we saw last night would be Lofmir, then; they would dance at the end of the ride.” She turned to Rod. “What land dost thou seek, husband?”
Rod shrugged. “Well, a rise, with a good thicket just beside the trail, as the Grand Duchess said—preferably with a nice high cliff-top right behind it. And plenty of room across from the cliff.”
Cordelia nodded. “There is a rise beneath a hill’s brow, and the ground falls away on the other side in a long, long slope.”
Rod grinned. “Perfect! Okay, scout—lead us to it.”
Cordelia hopped back on her broom.
“Uh, hold it, there.” Rod caught the straw. “We’ve got to keep our heads down.”
“But, Papa,” Magnus protested, “ ‘twould be so easy just to fly there!”
“Yeah, and easy for Duke Foidin’s sentries to spot us, too—or are you forgetting it’s daylight now? It was taking enough of a chance, having Cordelia fly reconnaissance—and you’ll notice I chose the smaller body for the purpose.”
“ ‘Tis as when we came,” Magnus grumbled. “We had to walk because Papa could not fly.”
“Hey, now!” Rod frowned. “No looking down on your old man, mind! Or do I have to prove I can still get in one good spank before you can teleport?”
Magnus glowered truculently up at him, but Rod just held a steady glare, and the kid finally began to wilt.
“It was unkind,” Gwen said softly.
Magnus let go, and looked down at the grass. “I’m sorry, Papa,” he mumbled.
“ ‘S’okay.” Rod clapped him on the shoulder. “We didn’t fly then for the same reason, son—don’t attract attention until you know whether or not the territory’s friendly—and always keep a few surprises handy. Let’s go, folks.”
They set out across the meadow, Cordelia skimming the top of the grass with Geoff hitchhiking behind her, Magnus floating along in their wake to keep pace with the grownups. Father Uwell looked startled at first, but he adapted quickly. “I admire your discipline,” he murmured to Rod.
Rod watched the kids warily, then dropped back a few paces. “Just a matter of getting through to them while they’re young enough to hang onto, Father.”
“Yes, surely,” the priest agreed. “Tell me—could you punish him now, if you wanted to?”
Magnus perked his ears up.
“I’d rather not say,” Rod muttered.
Father Uwell followed the direction of his gaze, and nodded. “I see. Sometimes it helps, being telepathically invisible, eh?”
Rod gave him a very dirty look.
The priest rolled his eyes up, studying the sky.
“What’re you looking for,” Rod demanded, “constellations?”
“Oh, no. I noticed those last night, as soon as I came to a clearing.”
“Really?” Rod perked up. “Recognize any?”
“Oh, all of them, of course.”
“Of course? ” Rod frowned. “What is this—your home world?”
“No, but I’ve spent half my life here.” The priest cocked his head to the side. “You’ve never been to Terra?”
Rod stared.
“I take it you haven’t.”
Rod gave his head a quick shake. “Well, yes, once or twice—but I didn’t exactly have time to study the stars. Uh—isn’t the scene here a little rural for Terra?”
“The whole planet is rather overgrown with cities,” Father Uwell agreed, “so, obviously, it’s not the same Terra.”
Rod stopped.
So did the priest. “You hadn’t guessed?”
“Well, yes and no.” Rod gestured vaguely. “I mean, I knew we were several thousand years in the future…”
Father Uwell shook his head.
Rod just watched him for a minute.
Then he said, “What do you mean, ‘no?’ ”
“The stars are the same as they were when I left,” the priest answered. “The whole sphere’s rotated a little—I’d guess we’re somewhere on the North American continent, whereas I’m used to the Italian sky—but there’s no star-drift, no distortion of the constellations. We’re just about 3059 AD.”
“I can’t accept that,” Rod snapped.
“I think the Pope said that to Galileo, once,” Father Uwell sighed. “But I see a peasant, over there; why don’t you ask him?”
Rod looked up. A laborer was out early with his sickle, mowing hay. Rod glanced at his family, decided he could catch up quickly enough, and trotted over to the peasant. He stopped suddenly, remembering where they were. He turned back toward Gwen, and whistled. She looked up, saw the peasant—and all three children dropped to the ground and started walking.
Unfortunately, the peasant had noticed. When Rod got to him, he was still rubbing his eyes. “Good morrow,” Rod called. “Eyes troubling you?”
The peasant looked up, blinking. “I have not waked quite, I think. Were yon children flying?”
Rod glanced over at the kids, then back. “No, you’re still dreaming.”
“Art thou certain?”
“Of course I’m sure! I’m their father. Say, would you happen to know the date?”
The man blinked again. “Date?”
“Uh, the year will do.” Rod took a deep breath. “See, we’re from out of town, and we want to make sure we count the years the same way you do.”
“I see.” He didn’t. “Well… ‘tis the Year of Our Lord 3059… Art thou well?”
Rod realized he was staring. “Uh, just asleep on my feet. I hate it when the day starts so early.”
“Assuredly,” the man said, wondering, “how can it begin, but with sunrise?”
“A good point,” Rod admitted. “Well, thanks for the information. Have a good day!” He turned, and trotted back to Gwen and the kids. As he came up to them, he glanced back; the laborer was still staring at them. Rod grabbed Magnus’s shoulder. “Son, give that guy a quick cat-nap, will you? I want him to think he dreamed us.”
Rod surveyed the site from the hill-top, and nodded. “Good. Very good. Gwen, there’s your thicket…” he pointed to a stand of furze on the near side of the trail… “…and here’s my station, on the slope.”
“Where shall we be, Papa?” Magnus asked eagerly.
“Up here, with Father Uwell, for protection.”
“Their protection?” The priest smiled, amused. “Or mine?”
“Ours,” Rod answered, “Gwen’s and mine. And Elidor’s.”
“Mama,” Geoffrey piped up, “hungry.”
“Me too, come to think of it.” Rod’s stomach growled. He shrugged. “Okay, kids—go find breakfast.”
The children whooped and ran, tumbling down the hillside.
“What will they find?” Father Uwell asked.
Gwen shook her head, smiling. “Only Heaven may know, Father.”
“Care to ask?” Rod prompted.
Father Uwell shook his head, smiling. “I’m afraid my pipeline doesn’t go beyond the Vatican.”
“Yes—the place with the constellations.” Rod frowned.