“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?”
“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?”