The cat sprang off the chest and she opened it. There was a curious tautness in her. He wondered what she was up to. A small crawling went along his spine.
Out of the chest she took a tripod brazier, which she set on the floor and charged with powder from a flask. She took out also a wand that seemed to be of ebony and ivory. Muttering and making passes, she drew two concentric circles in the dirt around the tripod and stood between them with her cat.
“The inner curve is to hold the demon, and the outer to stay what enchantments he might essay, for they are often grumpy when summoned so swift out of airiness,” she explained. “I must ask ye, sir, to make no prayer nor sign of the cross, for that would cause him to depart at once, and in most foul humor too.“ Her voice was matter-of-fact, but her eyes glittered at him and he wished he could read expression in that web of wrinkles.
“Go ahead,” he said, a bit thickly.
She began dancing around the inner circle, and he caught something of her chant. “Amen, amen—” Yes, he knew what was coming next, though he couldn’t tell how he knew... “—malo a nos libera sed—” Nor did he know why his hackles rose. She finished the Latin and switched to a shrill language he didn’t recognize. When she touched her wand to the brazier, it began throwing out a heavy white smoke that almost hid her but, curiously, did not reach beyond the outer circle. “O Beliya’al, Ba’al Zebub, Abaddon, Ashmadai!” she screamed. “Samiel, Samiel, Samiel!”
Was the smoke thickening? Holger started from his chair. He could barely see Gerd in the red-tinged haze, and it was as if something else hovered over the tripod, something gray and snaky, half transparent—by Heaven, he saw crimson eyes, and the thing had almost the shape of a man!
He heard it speak, a whistling unhuman tone, and the old woman answered in the language he did not know. Ventriloquism, he told himself frantically, ventriloquism and his own mind, blurred with weariness, only that, only that. Papillon neighed and kicked in his stall. Holger dropped a hand to his knife. The blade was hot. Did magic, he gibbered, induce eddy currents?
The thing in the smoke piped and snarled and writhed about. It talked with Gerd for what seemed a very long time. Finally she raised her wand and started another chant. The smoke began to thin, as if it were being sucked back into the brazier. Holger swore shaken-voiced and reached for the ale.
When there was no more smoke, Gerd stepped out of the circle. Her face was gone blank and tight, her eyes hooded. But he saw how she trembled. The cat arched its back, bottled its tail, and spat at him.
“Strange rede,” she said after a pause, tonelessly. “Strange rede the demon gave me.”
“What did he say?” Holger whispered.
“He said—Samiel said ye were from far away, so far that a man might travel till Judgment Day and not reach your home. Is’t not so?”
“Yes,” said Holger slowly. “Yes, I think that maybe true.”
“And he said help for your plight, the means of returning ye whence ye came, lies within Faerie itself. There must ye go, Sir... Sir Holger. Ye must ride to Faerie.”
He knew not what to answer.
“Oh, ’tis not so bad as ’t sounds.” Gerd eased a trifle. She even chuckled, or rather cackled. “If the truth must out, I am on terms not unfriendly with Duke Alfric, the nearest lord of Faerie. He is a kittle sort, like all his breed, but he’ll help ye if ye ask, the demon said. And I shall furnish a guide, that ye may go thither with speed.”
“Wh-why?” Holger stammered. “I mean, I can’t offer payment.”
“None is needed.” Gerd waved a negligent hand. “A good deed may perchance be remembered to my credit when I depart this world for another and, I fear, warmer clime; and in any case it pleasures an old granny to help a handsome young man like unto ye. Ah, there was a time, how long ago ! But enough of that. Let me dress your hurt, and then off to bed with ye.“
Holger submitted to having his injury washed and a poultice of herbs bound over it with an incantation. He was too tired by now to resist anything. But he remembered enough caution to decline her offer of her own pallet, and instead slept on the hay next to Papillon. No use taking more chances than he must. This was an odd house, to say the least.
3
WAKING, HE LAY for some time in a half doze, till he remembered where he was. Sleep drained from him. He sat up with a yell and glared around.
A stable, yes! A crude dark shelter, odorous with hay and manure, a black horse which loomed over him and nuzzled him tenderly. He climbed to his feet, picking straws out of his clothes.
Sunshine poured in as Mother Gerd opened the door. “Ah, good morrow, fair sir,” she cried. “In truth ye slept the sleep of the just, or what’s said to be the sleep of the just, though in my years I’ve oft espied good men tossing wakeful the night through and wicked men shaking the roof with their snores; and I’d not the heart to waken ye. But come now and see what waits.”
That proved to be a bowl of porridge, more bread and cheese and ale, and a hunk of half-cooked bacon. Holger consumed the meal with appetite and afterward thought wistfully of coffee and a smoke. But wartime shortages had somewhat weaned him from those pleasant vices. He settled for a vigorous washing at a trough outside the cottage.
When he came back in, a newcomer had arrived. Holger didn’t see him till a hand plucked at his trousers and a bass voice rumbled, “Here I be.” Looking down, he saw a knotty, earth-brown man with jug-handle ears, outsize nose, and white beard, clad in a brown jacket and breeches, with bare splay feet. The man was not quite three feet tall.
“This is Hugi,” said Mother Gerd. “He’ll be your guide to Faerie.”
“Ummm... pleased to meet you,” said Holger. He shook hands, which seemed to astonish the dwarf. Hugi’s palm was hard and warm.
“Now be off with ye,” said the old woman cheerily, “for the sun is high and ye’ve a weary way to go through realms most parlous. Yet fear not, Sir Holger. Hugi is of the woods-dwellers and will see ye safe to Duke Alfric.” She handed him a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Herein have I laid some bread and meat and other refreshment, for well I know how impractick ye young paladins are, gallivanting about the world to rescue fair maidens with never a thought of taking along a bite of lunch. Ah, were I young again, ’twould matter naught to me either, for what is an empty belly when the world is green, but now I am aged and must think a bit.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Holger awkwardly.
He turned to go. Hugi pulled him back with surprising strength. “What’s the thocht here?” he growled. “Would ye gang oot in mere cloth? There’s a mickle long galoots in yon woods were glad to stick iron in a rich-clad wayfarer.”
“Oh... oh, yes.” Holger unwrapped his baggage. Mother Gerd sniggered and hobbled out the door.
Hugi assisted him to put on the medieval garments properly, and bound leather straps about his calves while he slipped the padded undercoat over his head. The ringmail clashed as he pulled it on next, and hung with unexpected weight from his shoulders. Now, let’s see—obviously that broad belt went around his waist and carried his dagger, while the baldric supported his sword. Hugi handed him a quilted cap which he donned, followed by the Norman helmet. When gilt spurs were on his feet and a scarlet cloak on his back, he wondered if he looked swashbuckling or plain silly.