Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Is there some purpose for this nonsense?” Mwynwen asked. Obviously, in her case, irritation had won over amusement.

  “Oh, yes.” Aleneil laughed. “This is just how heaven is most often described in the mortal world. And look at the gatekeeper. One would swear he was St. Peter.”

  “I don’t know who St. Peter is,” Mwynwen admitted, “but I hope the construct has enough brains to be able to answer a simple question.”

  It did not have any brains at all. When Aleneil and Mwynwen approached it, and asked for Titania, it smiled and said, “Ah, a child of good heart. You are welcome here in Heaven.” And it swung open the pearly gate and gestured for them to enter.

  Fortunately there was no problem in finding Queen Titania. On the other side of the gate, the golden path narrowed into a little lane that passed between borders of bright, low-growing flowers over which could be seen an immaculate green lawn. In the distance there appeared to be gentle hills and possibly pretty woods. However, immediately ahead was a dais, covered with a thick Turkey carpet. On that was a low chair and in the chair a lady dressed in a soft blue robe.

  Mwynwen breathed a sigh of relief. They had found the Queen. Aleneil bit her lips at the notion of Titania playing the Mother of God, but that was clearly what she was doing. On her lap was an extraordinarily pretty, if bruised, terribly thin, and dirty, little boy. The child looked somewhat stunned, but not at all unhappy or frightened.

  Aleneil bowed; Mwynwen lowered her head. Titania barely glanced at them. She bent her head over that of the child and said, “Will you go now and play with these other children? I promise you they will be glad to have you with them.”

  “Yes, please come,” a little girl with a wreath of flowers in her hair, chubby, bare feet, and a spotless white smock begged, holding out her hand.

  “I have a toy horse that moves of itself,” a boy of about the same age as the child in Titania’s lap said. “You can play with it if you like. The lady will give me another if you wish to keep it—or she will give you another if you want a new one.”

  Aleneil watched as several other children extended invitations … all appeared to be human, but some were real mortal children, and some were constructs. The mortal children were extraordinarily well behaved, and the constructs were more intelligent than the gatekeeper. The child looked at the others doubtfully, as if he were not accustomed to acceptance, but Titania urged him to go, promising he could return to her later, and eventually he slid off her lap and took the hand of the little girl.

  “I’m a bastard,” he said to her loudly.

  “Is that so?” she replied, smiling. “It doesn’t matter in Heaven what you were before you came here. Would you like to look at Efan’s horse, or would you like to have some milk and biscuits and play with my puzzle-box?”

  Suddenly, although they could still see the children, Mwynwen and Aleneil could no longer hear them. Titania lost the softness of her pose, sat rigidly erect, and bent her gleaming green eyes on them.

  “FarSeer and Healer. What do you want here? If you have come from Oberon, go back and tell him I said no. And do not come again.”

  “We have not come from Oberon,” Mwynwen said. “In fact, we would prefer greatly if you did not mention to him that we were here … or what we asked of you.”

  “Is this concerning something you have Seen?” the Queen asked Aleneil, sounding puzzled, almost anxious.

  Aleneil bowed her head. “It is no new Seeing, but is to do with what I have Seen in the past, a Seeing you know of and wish to see fulfilled. Elizabeth is being threatened.”

  “Denoriel is supposed to be guarding her.” Titania cocked her head. “Where is Denoriel? There is something about him that I cannot fathom and I would like to know him better.”

  “Denoriel is in the mortal world guarding his charge,” Mwynwen replied, and swiftly, to distract Titania, then added, “I have just come from the mortal world myself. Denoriel was forced to bring me where I ordinarily choose not to go to find and break a spelling cast on Elizabeth.”

  Titania sat straight up. “A spelling? Cast by whom?” she asked, sharply.

  “We do not know, Queen Titania,” Aleneil offered.

  “However,” Mwynwen added, “I think it must have been delivered by way of an amulet or a talisman carried by a mortal who himself or herself has no power. The spell had no … ah … signature by which I might recognize the caster.”

  Titania frowned, but it was in thought, not anger. “And Denoriel cannot discover who carried the spell?”

  “He is almost certain who that was,” Aleneil said, “but equally certain that the man had no idea what he had done.”

  Titania raised a delicate eyebrow. “But why do you come to me? This is something fully in the king’s province. Let Denoriel speak to Oberon who will likely enough give him permission to remove any person that threatens King Henry’s daughter.”

  Aleneil shook her head. “But, madam, the man does not threaten Elizabeth … not by his own will, at least. And he is apparently unaware that he ever threatened her by another’s will. It would be useless to give him to the Wild Hunt. We, Mwynwen and I, believe that some faction of the Unseleighe Court is behind the danger to Elizabeth. It would not help for Denoriel to stop this guilty person because Vidal Dhu would simply send another to plot against the child’s life.”

  Titania’s eyes flashed, but she remained outwardly calm. “Vidal Dhu … I see. Do you want me to ask Oberon to give the dark prince a warning?”

  Aleneil shook her head. “We fear it would not solve the problem, because there are mortal magicians too, and Elizabeth has mortal enemies. It would be easy for the Unseleighe to work through them so that nothing could be proved.”

  “Are you telling me that our dreams for a golden age of letters, music, and art are doomed?” Titania’s full lips thinned to a hard line.

  “Thankfully, no, madam,” Mwynwen said. “Fortunately the child has Talent.”

  Mwynwen told Titania of the manifestations of that Talent, of Elizabeth’s ability to see through illusion and see and sense Underhill creatures, of the burst of power that thrust an Unseleighe Sidhe back Underhill and destroyed his Gate, of the reservoir of power that had enabled her to fight the spell of dissolution until Denoriel could fetch a healer to her.

  It was those final words that brought something more than curiosity and annoyance out of the High Queen. “Spell of dissolution? So much fear and horror laid upon a child?” Titania drew herself up and seemed to swell with anger so that Heaven shrank into a pale miniature around her. Her eyes were so terrible that Mwynwen, although she knew the rage was not directed against her, drew back. As FarSeer, Aleneil had experience of Titania in a rage because she gave much more free reign to her emotions than Oberon. No one stood firm before Oberon’s rage; Titania’s Aleneil could endure.

  So she took up the tale, while Mwynwen recovered herself, and explained that they could not guess from where enemies would rise against Elizabeth. There were those who feared that if her brother’s life should fail the people would prefer Elizabeth to her elder sister, Mary. And there were those who knew how much Edward had enjoyed her company and admired her and feared that she would influence the coming king too much.

  “I could unleash such a plague …” Titania’s eyes flashed emerald sparks.

  “Madam, even Elizabeth could not bring a golden age out of the ruins of a plague.” Aleneil spoke, not to soothe, but to direct. “Mwynwen gave the answer already. Elizabeth has Talent.”

  Titania did not immediately answer. “So did her mother, if I remember aright, and it was the Talent that left her wide open to evil influence and destroyed her.”

  “Because it was untrained,” Mwynwen said firmly. “Because Anne was terrified of it and would not learn how to control it. But if Elizabeth were properly trained, she could protect herself, and she has been exposed to those who use magic all her young life. It does not frighten her. On the contrary; she is fascinated by it.”r />
  “Ah.” The Queen smiled and a moment later frowned. “So see that the child is trained. Why do you need to come to me?” Another pause. “And ask that I not mention to Oberon for what you asked me. What are you asking me?”

  Mwynwen drew a deep breath. “I cannot train Elizabeth. Her Talent is uncertain at the moment, and comes and goes, but within her—I do not understand where or how stored—is a great well of power. I cannot reach it. I do not know how to tell her to reach it. I only know, from what I have heard them say, that this is what sorcerers have. Elizabeth needs to be trained by a sorcerer.”

  “And not a human sorcerer,” Aleneil put in. “What mortal sorcerer would be able to resist boasting that he was training the king’s daughter? He would whisper to a friend and that friend to another. Did you know, my queen that the mortals have passed laws in all lands forbidding the practice of magic? One hint of the child’s Talent and the king and parliament would have her barred from the succession, perhaps even executed, burned, as they have burned too many already. We must bring Elizabeth Underhill for her training.”

  There was a long, deep silence. The Queen glanced over her shoulder to where the construct children now surrounded the mortal child. The expression on his face was heartwarming, bemused but full of joy. It was clear enough that he believed he was dead and in Heaven and he would know nothing but joy for eternity.

  “It is easy enough to bring a child Underhill,” Titania said, returning her gaze to Mwynwen and Aleneil. “But to return that child to the mortal world … that is nigh impossible. And to create what we desire, Elizabeth must remain in the mortal world.”

  “But she must remain alive and in her right mind,” Aleneil pointed out.

  Slowly, regretfully, Titania shook her head. “To release her to the mortal world after bringing her here we would need to wipe her memory of Underhill. I have done that now and again to a specially favored minstrel for the sake of having him sing to us.” She shrugged. “Sometimes … the person is not the same afterward. In any case, for Elizabeth, what good would that be? It would wipe away all she learned here.”

  “I know of three mortals whose memory of Underhill has not been touched,” Aleneil pointed out, “only the ability to speak of it, even in allusion, was blocked. Oberon did that to the child FitzRoy after Denoriel fled with him Underhill from the Unseleighe Wild Hunt, and there were the two mortals who are now servants to Elizabeth and who once served that same FitzRoy.”

  Titania gestured indifference. “The servants do not matter. If they cannot speak of Underhill no one else can learn of it from them, and they have no power. FitzRoy … yes. I remember. But I think that Oberon was willing to mark FitzRoy because he knew the boy would never be king. Elizabeth is different. She will be queen. To have a mortal queen who knows Underhill … That is very dangerous. She could decide she needed our wealth and gather a mortal army armed with steel weapons to overwhelm us.”

  Both Mwynwen and Aleneil looked appalled, but after a moment Aleneil said, “But can you not also plant in her the idea that all she sees Underhill is ‘faery gold’ that will melt away or turn to dross when brought into the light of the sun?”

  “Ah.” Titania cocked her head. “Now that is a thought that had not occurred to me.” She nodded. “Yes, that is possible. I will even provide for her a gorgeous set of jewels that will become clods of earth wrapped in withered leaves if she carries them into the World Above.” Her expression lightened into one of mischief. “Indeed, that is a good notion altogether. We must make a point of giving a handful of mortals such things, now and again, so that the tale may spread!”

  “Then Denoriel may bring her?” Aleneil asked.

  “Denoriel.” Titania cast another glance over her shoulder at the now-laughing child but then smiled. “Yes, tell Denoriel to bring Elizabeth to his chambers in Llachar Lle.” She paused and frowned. “He is to take care not to traipse all over Underhill with her first. I will come to the palace and see her there. I wish to see this prodigy for myself.”

  Chapter 12

  Having delivered appropriate thanks to Titania, Aleneil and Mwynwen hastened away from Heaven. The glitter-winged wee folk had led them a complex path of Gating to find the domain, but the Gate at the end of the golden path had only one terminus: Avalon. They did not even step off the great eight-pointed star of tiny, glowing seashells but merely willed the Gate to move them again, to Logres.

  There they found Ystwyth and Lady Aeron waiting and were whisked across the lawns and gardens to the entrance to Llachar Lle. Denoriel and Harry FitzRoy were still in the sitting room, although small tables holding the remains of a meal and flagons and glasses gave evidence that they had not neglected themselves. Harry jumped to his feet and turned toward the door when the salamander appeared suddenly among the crystal logs.

  “Harry,” Denoriel warned against too eager a question.

  But it was Denoriel who protested when Aleneil said, “Elizabeth is to come Underhill. You are to bring her directly to Titania, Denoriel.”

  “For sweet Mother Dannae’s sake,” Denoriel groaned, “did you need to say I would bring Elizabeth to Titania? The child would have gone with you as Lady Alana.”

  “I am not so sure of that,” Aleneil said. “Elizabeth has all the prejudices of her sex and upbringing. When she goes into danger, it is a man she wants beside her, not a weak female who knows only how to dress well.”

  “Besides, Elizabeth is not the point,” Mwynwen said.

  “Elizabeth is the main point!” Harry snapped.

  Denoriel frowned at him. He had warned Harry more than once not to display his affection for Elizabeth so openly before Mwynwen, but Harry, who adored them both, loved them in such different ways that he could not conceive of jealousy between them. And Denoriel could not say to him that, except for the sexual relationship, Mwynwen’s feeling for him was more like his feeling for Elizabeth than his feeling for her.

  In the hearth, Mwynwen’s salamander hissed and coiled furiously, dove into the heart of the flames that played over the crystal logs, and then began to dance more quietly.

  “What can be done for Elizabeth is the main point, yes,” Mwynwen said. “But what I meant was that Titania will likely provide more protection in more elegant ways at Denoriel’s request than she would for me or Aleneil.”

  “Mwynwen is quite right,” Aleneil agreed. “The Queen was only giving us half her attention. If we brought Elizabeth, she would get a simple suppression of speech to keep her from discussing the World Below—and the Queen might be a trifle careless so that more than mention of Underhill might be suppressed. If Elizabeth’s speech or quickness of mind were damaged, it would be a disaster. Whereas you, my brother, are someone she wishes to impress. Her spell-casting will be exact and elegant in your presence.”

  Denoriel, wordlessly acknowledging these truths, nonetheless groaned again. He looked from one to the other, obviously distressed. “I do not want to be Titania’s plaything. What will be left of me when she is done?”

  Mwynwen giggled. “I will gather you together, my pet, and make all well.” She laughed again at his expression of horror, and added, “But I am virtually sure you will escape more than curious notice. Just now, Titania will be much distracted. She has only this day obtained a new mortal child and I think Oberon may have heard rumors of it. She said, when Mwynwen and I came before her, that if we came from Oberon her answer was no and that we should not come again.”

  “That was why we took the chance of involving you,” Aleneil added. “Elizabeth is not nearly so attractive as this darling little boy. He is darling and much hurt by unkindness and neglect. He will respond to Titania with adoration, whereas Elizabeth—if I guess aright and she is properly overawed—with court formality. It is the only way Elizabeth knows how to react to what she both fears and admires, like her father. Titania will be bored and wish to get back to her new plaything. But she is curious about you, Denoriel, and she will want to interest and impress you, so sh
e will treat Elizabeth with care.”

  “I am impressed enough already,” Denoriel replied ruefully.

  Aleneil smiled. “However, I think she intends to keep Elizabeth’s visit Underhill secret from Oberon. She gave strict order that you bring the child directly here to Llachar Lle and that she would come here. She said you were not to allow Elizabeth to wander all over Underhill as you did with Harry.”

  “That was not my intention at all,” Denoriel protested. “Harry and I jumped through the Gate a finger-width ahead of the Wild Hunt and Harry’s cross disrupted the Gate, which had been weakened by Pasgen’s meddling. I hope we will have no such catastrophes with Elizabeth.”

  “Will you bring her soon?” Harry asked eagerly.

  In the hearth, the salamander hissed violently and circled the gentle flames, making them leap high. Denoriel looked anxiously at Mwynwen, but her face showed nothing. That provided little comfort. A healer learns to present a pleasant countenance no matter what the turmoil within.

  “As soon as I can,” Denoriel said to Harry, “but it may take me some time to convince her. Remember, she has had two narrow escapes from death delivered by a creature that looked very like me. And once she was saved only by remembering that I had told her I would never ask her to remove or cover her cross. But to get her safely through a Gate, I must do just that.”

  They talked for a while about the problem, Aleneil offering to try to convince Elizabeth. Denoriel would have accepted, but Mwynwen pointed out that if Aleneil failed, Elizabeth would become even more suspicious. Eventually Denoriel decided he must just do the best he could; if he failed, he would try to enlist other Sidhe guardians to watch over her. Aleneil would wait at Llachar Lle for him.

  He Gated to the farm near Hatfield and was greeted with anxious questions at the palace stable. Assured that Elizabeth was now recovering, Ladbroke led Miralys away. Denoriel passed on into the palace. He received sour looks from the two gentlemen in waiting, who regarded him with some jealousy, but was warmly welcomed by Mistress Champernowne, who showed him directly into Elizabeth’s bedchamber.