"How lucky for you that you married a fright like me," Luneta said dryly.
"Yes, isn't it?" Rhience returned, smiling with simple pride. "Provident of me, really. I'm often surprised at how clever I am."
"Whereas I'm no longer surprised at all," Luneta replied mournfully. "Resigned, more like."
Rhience grinned, acknowledging a hit, and they rode on in comfortable silence. They were nearing the Henge, a great circle of stones in Salisbury that had been set in place—so people said—by Merlin himself, and they had only one more enchantress to summon: Lady Laudine. Laudine was an old friend of Luneta's—married, in fact, to her cousin Ywain—and Luneta was mildly pleased that she was going to see them again. Laudine was silly but goodhearted, and Ywain was a knight of great honor and courage. Then Luneta sighed with sudden disappointment. "Oh, bother," she said. "I was looking forward to seeing Ywain, but I suppose he's off fighting with Arthur now."
Since leaving Sussex—where they heard only vague whispers of rebellion—they had learned much that was alarming about the state of the kingdom. They had traveled north, through London, to Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire, then headed west into Wales, south through Gloucester and Bath, and in all these places they had heard about Mordred's White Horsemen. Most of these reports had ended with dire predictions of catastrophe and collapse, but Luneta doubted such forecasts. She couldn't believe that anyone would be able to muster an army against the wisest and most generous king in England's history, or that any such army could succeed against the fellowship of the Round Table.
"You don't really think that Arthur's in any danger, do you?" Luneta asked Rhience.
Her husband looked grave. "I don't know," he said. "I've never heard things like this before."
"But reports of disaster always get exaggerated in the telling," Luneta pointed out.
"Undoubtedly," Rhience agreed. "In Bristol I even heard one man say that he had seen Camelot itself in ruins, which I doubt. Besides, magic seems to be on our side. Morgause is dead, and you yourself said that a fog was lifting in England. Not to mention our magical journey."
"What do you mean, magical?"
Rhience glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. "You really haven't noticed? The magic that's supported us on our little tour of England?"
"Oh, right. I have noticed that our horses never get tired."
Rhience almost laughed out loud. "And have you no notion of distances, my love?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dear Luneta, in two weeks we have traveled distances that would normally have taken that many months or more. I've heard tales of seven-league boots, but this chap Ganscotter appears to have given us seven-league horseshoes."
"I didn't realize all that," Luneta said thoughtfully. "You know, it has been rather a fast journey."
Rhience applauded by clapping his hands softly. "Ah, there's no hiding anything from you witches."
"Enchantresses," Luneta murmured.
They rode around a copse of moderate-size trees—many of which showed storm damage—and saw Lady Laudine's castle ahead. A few minutes later, they were in the castle court, and Ywain was fairly leaping down a flight of stone stairs in his eagerness to greet them.
"Rhience! Luneta! What news? I mean, how are you? It's so nice to see you. What have you heard about the White Horsemen?"
"Nice to see you, too, lad," Rhience said, grinning.
"Yes, yes," Ywain hurried on. "Are you well? But I can see you're fine. What's the news?"
Rhience dismounted and helped Luneta from her saddle. "Not good, I'm afraid," he said soberly. "Sir Gaheris and Lady Lynet are dead."
Ywain looked at Luneta with quick sympathy. "Oh, Luneta," he said. "I don't know what to say."
Luneta smiled faintly at him. His sincerity was deep and genuine, and in a curious way his admission that he didn't have any words of comfort was more comforting than any words she could imagine. "Thank you," she said.
"And Arthur? And the fellowship?" Ywain asked after a moment.
"As for that, we have only rumors, probably exaggerated, but we've heard nothing good," Rhience replied.
Ywain scowled fiercely. "I should be there," he muttered.
"Why aren't you, then?" Luneta asked bluntly.
"Oh, my dear Luneta!" shrieked a voice from the top of the stairs that Ywain had just descended. "I beg you not to put that idea back in his head! If he leaves, what will become of me?" It was Laudine, as ethereally beautiful as ever.
"If Arthur's overthrown, what will become of any of us?" Ywain answered shortly.
"My love, we've been through all this! You swore to protect me when we married! And you know how I feel about broken promises!" Ywain's face grew stormy, but he held his tongue. "And you see," Laudine added, "that Rhience has stayed at Luneta's side."
"The cases aren't quite the same," Rhience began. "Until two weeks ago, I didn't know how serious matters were. Besides, I'm not one of the finest swordsmen in the land, like—"
"Are you all turned against me?" wailed Laudine. Luneta remembered now how often she had been frustrated with her friend's tendency toward histrionics.
Fortunately, as Laudine seemed to be building up to a rare scene, the quelling voice of Morgan interrupted. "Enough of this! Lady Laudine, you are making a great deal of noise to no purpose. I have come to gather you, along with the rest of these Ladies—and their consorts—to the Henge."
"To the Henge? Why?"
"I don't know. Ganscotter will meet us there and will no doubt tell you himself."
"Ganscotter? Of Avalon?" Laudine whispered.
"Do you know of any others with that name?" Morgan snapped. Evidently she had even less taste for amateur theatrics than Luneta did. "And I need hardly remind you that when Ganscotter summons, it is best to obey at once."
"But I shall need to pack," Laudine replied blankly. "My gowns, my supplies. How long shall we be gone?"
"You have five minutes," Morgan said calmly.
"I'll go saddle two horses," Ywain said, evidently cheered by the prospect of leaving the castle, regardless of where they were going.
"Five minutes!" squeaked Laudine. "Why, my lotions and oils themselves will take—"
"Four and a half," Morgan said, and Laudine rushed up the stairs.
There was already a crowd at the Henge when they arrived, and Luneta felt certain that they were not all enchantresses. In fact, many were not even human. There were tiny piskies buzzing about like dragonflies, elves that appeared here and there for a second and then disappeared, and creatures that seemed to be partly human and partly animal or vegetable. Luneta rode next to Morgan and said, "Who are all these?"
"I know as little as you do, dear," Morgan said. "I was just sent to gather enchantresses. I did not know that others from the Faery World had also been summoned."
Towering nearly a head above most of the others was a tall and reassuringly normal-looking young man with a neatly trimmed beard. Luneta made her way toward him and dismounted at his side. He smiled a greeting, showing white, even teeth. Luneta glanced once, furtively, at the young man's powerful chest and shoulders, then looked up into his eyes. "Good afternoon," she said. "My name's Luneta."
"Delighted to meet you, Lady Luneta," the young man replied in a cultured voice. "I'm Piers."
"Can you tell me what's going on here, Piers?" Luneta asked. Rhience dismounted at her side.
"I wish I could," he said frankly. "All I know is that we were all summoned here to meet with Ganscotter."
Now Rhience spoke. "I gather that by 'we all' you mean faeries?"
"Other-Worlders, at any rate," Piers replied. He held out his hand to Rhience. "I'm Piers."
"I'm Luneta's husband, Rhience." The two men shook hands.
"Are you a faery?" asked Luneta.
"Nay, a blacksmith," Piers replied. Then he grinned. "All right, half faery. On my father's side." He chuckled at their skeptical expressions. "I don't look much like the brownies, do I? But, you know, we don'
t all look like that. My father's a full-blooded faery, and he looks just like me."
"Is your father here?" Luneta asked.
Piers shook his head. "Nay, he and my mother made the move many years ago. They live in the World of the Faeries now."
Rhience considered this. "You say 'made the move' as if it were something that everyone would do one day. Is that why we're here? To leave this world for the Other World?"
Piers nodded. "I've wondered, at least. I cannot say what, but something happened a couple of weeks—"
"The night of the half-moon," Luneta agreed.
Piers smiled. "Then I was right. I was wondering which of you was the Other-Worlder, but it's you, isn't it? Enchantress?"
Luneta nodded and started to ask another question, but Piers was no longer looking at her. He was gazing over her shoulder, and a dazzling smile was spreading across his face. Luneta turned to see three figures stepping from between two of the massive standing stones and walking toward the crowd. In the center was a quiet but commanding man whose brown beard was only slightly gray at the temples but whose eyes spoke of thousands of years of wisdom. This could only be the great Ganscotter. On either side of him walked two breathtaking women in flowing green robes. Both had long, straight black hair, and in some indefinable way they looked alike.
"Now there," Rhience murmured in Luneta's ear. "That's what I was talking about the other day. That's beauty. It has nothing to do with the shape of their faces or the size of their noses, but they make every enchantress I've ever seen—except you and your mother—look pale and forgettable. Who are they?"
"The one on the left," said Piers, "is Nimue, the Lady of the Lake. And on the right is her daughter, Ariel." With that he left them, striding purposefully toward the lady on the right. She looked up and met Piers's eyes, then smiled with a pure and brilliant delight. She held out her hands, but Piers brushed them aside and enveloped her in a crushing embrace.
"I thought he looked rather pleased," Rhience said slowly. "I believe those two are friends."
"Ah, there's no hiding anything from you," Luneta murmured.
Ganscotter stopped in the center of the circled obelisks and held up one hand. The crowd was silent at once. "My friends," Ganscotter said. "Thank you for coming. I would not have asked it of you had it not been necessary."
"Why was it necessary, sir?" asked a knobby old man with green skin and a mossy beard.
"For thousands of years, as this world numbers them," Ganscotter said, "our two worlds have coexisted peaceably. There are few families in the Faery World who have no human blood, and few families in this one without at least a trace of the fae. Movement between worlds has been frequent and usually not very difficult. What most of you do not know is that this peaceful cohabitation was a provisional arrangement, permitted only for the safety of humans. You see, the World of Men has long been held in thrall to a powerful spell, cast by the most powerful of all the unseelie enchantresses—Hecate herself. It was Hecate who opened the first door between the worlds and who has sought from the beginning to rule this one through the devices of one or another of her servants."
"Yes, Lord Ganscotter," said Morgan abruptly. "We all know that in each generation there is another Enchantress seeking to rule this world and that you and your Seelie Court have opposed her. What is all this tending to?" Ganscotter looked at Morgan without speaking for a second, and Luneta was surprised to see the austere lady redden and look down. "I beg your pardon, sir," she muttered.
Ganscotter continued. "Two weeks ago, Hecate's door was closed forever, and the last of her servants was destroyed."
"Hecate's door was closed?" demanded several. "But how? Who had such power?"
"Many of us had tried to do so before and failed," Ganscotter said, smiling faintly. "But it was not so very difficult, as it turns out. All that was required was for one enchantress to face Hecate, receive power from her, then use that power to help someone else, having no thought for herself. It would appear that power cannot stand before love."
"Who did that?" clamored several voices.
Ganscotter shook his head. "I tell you only what you need to know," he said. But his eyes were searching the crowd, and when they rested on Luneta's face, they stopped. He nodded once.
"It was Mother," Luneta whispered to Rhience.
"So the Enchantress has been defeated," Ganscotter resumed. "And this is good, but it bears consequences for us all. It is no longer necessary for the Seelie Court to work here to hold her at bay. This world must now face its own problems. It is time for you to go home."
There was a chorus of protests, and Luneta heard more than one voice cry out that this world was home. Ganscotter waited patiently for the clamor to fade. At last the old green man said, "My lord?"
"Yes, Jack?"
"Is this your command? Are we required to leave?"
"No. Anyone who wishes to may stay."
There came another babble of voices, after which the green man spoke again. "And if we stay, will all the doors between worlds be closed behind us?"
There was a paralyzed silence, and Luneta could sense uncertainty in the crowd. It was one thing, she realized, to want to stay in this world, but quite another to be forced to stay here forever. But Ganscotter shook his head. "No," he said at last. "There will be less travel between worlds, but the doors will remain open. Even I have no power to close doors between worlds.
"But before you decide to stay," Ganscotter went on, "you should know that your life here will not be the same. Today you possess powers that make you stronger than the men and women among whom you live. Those powers will be lessened from this day. Dryads, you may remain, but you will no longer have the power to leave your trees and wander at will. Elves and sprites, you may keep your powers, but from this day those powers will be impotent either to help or to harm people directly."
"So," said the green old man, "if we stay, we stay in a weakened state."
"It is so," said Ganscotter. "And, as some of you may have already imagined, that will leave you defenseless." He waved his hand behind him at one of the openings of the Henge, two towering obelisks with another great stone laid across the top. At his wave, this ancient doorway became dark, and through the opening Luneta saw shapes and figures. "Look well!" cried Ganscotter.
Then every eye turned toward the gaping hole in the air, and in the opening a series of images appeared. First, Luneta saw men with axes and saws and dreadful machines rise from the ground and begin laying waste the forests. England's majestic forests disappeared, leaving scarred and rutted ground and a thick haze that descended on the land. Then she saw another crowd of people trampling the fields and leveling sacred mounds. Places that any Other-Worlder would have recognized at a glance as places of power and awe were dug up, dragged down, or crushed to lime and used to build roads. She saw sprites fleeing, unheeded, from treasure-hunting men and women who drew everything of value from the land and left it, charred and useless, behind them. Then the doorway lightened, and once again the rolling Salisbury Plain appeared behind it. The crowd was silent.
"You may stay here," Ganscotter said quietly, "but now it is they who will rule. At first they will fight against you, for no better reason than because they don't understand you, but in the end they will simply ignore you and pretend that you do not exist. This is what awaits those who choose to remain here."
Morgan spoke quietly. "And what of enchantresses? Do you imagine that anyone can ignore an enchantress?"
"Never underestimate the human capacity for self-deception," Ganscotter said. "But remember: you, too, remain here only at the cost of much of your power. The day of the great spells is over. Moreover, enchantresses, if you stay, you must surrender your initial gifts."
"Initial gifts?" asked a quavering voice. It might have been Laudine.
"The gift you chose after your training," Ganscotter explained. "A love potion, a healing potion, or great beauty."
"Do you mean"—this time Luneta was certa
in it was Laudine—"that if we stay, we'll look ordinary?"
"You will look as you looked before your training," Ganscotter said, adding, "but older, of course." Laudine made a muffled quacking noise, but Ganscotter gave her no time to reply. Instead, he waved his arm at the great stone doorway again and said, "But you will want to look ordinary if you stay," he said. "Because this is what will happen to those accused of sorcery."
Again, the doorway turned black and images began to appear. Luneta saw crowds of screaming men and women dragging struggling figures toward gallows. She saw women tied to posts amid roaring fires. She saw men and women in dungeons, being stretched and torn on cruel racks, crushed beneath stones, and forced to drink poison. She saw women being mutilated by leering men in black robes, then weighted with stones and thrown into rivers.
Then the images ceased, and Ganscotter said, "For you, enchantresses, the danger of remaining is greatest of all. It doesn't matter if you use your powers only for good; in years to come, anyone who uses her powers at all will be subject to torture and death.
"And so, again, I say: it is time for you to leave."
For several seconds, no one moved. Then the green man whom Ganscotter had called Jack stood and said, "It's been a good home, and I've loved it. But time has its end. Where shall I go?" Ganscotter took him by the arm and walked him to the same structure through which they had seen the future. Jack stepped forward into the doorway and disappeared. A moment later, Piers and the young lady Ariel stepped through the gateway after him, followed by a young man who wore a heavy bearskin over his body and whose human head—if he had one—was concealed within the head of the bear. A slow but steady stream of Other-Worlders began shuffling forward, leaving this world for one where they would be safer. Luneta noticed several couples—mixed pairs, like her and Rhience—putting their heads together in urgent discussion, then joining the procession.
The Legend of the King Page 14