Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “That should be enough,” he said to Tangwystl, and then, “Elizabeth, that will give you time to call your guards or Blanche. No dark Sidhe of whom I know can touch you when your cross is exposed and even the strongest dark Sidhe will flee before Blanche’s necklace or the guards’ steel swords. And if the attacker should try to cast enchantments at the guards, that will divert him from trying to attack you, so you can defend yourself physically. Do you understand?”

  Elizabeth nodded cheerfully. “I saw what happened to the bad person that looks like you when Blanche threw one of her crosses at him. It just glanced off him, but he let go of me and staggered back as if something really heavy had hit him. I could stick any attacker with my eating knife or my scissors or hit him with an iron candlestick.”

  “I have a warning for you, however, mistress,” Tangwystl said. “I understand that you can see through illusion, that even when Lord Denoriel pretends to have round ears and round pupils in his eyes that you see him as he is.”

  She nodded again, but wrinkled her nose. “Mostly as he is. I can see a shadow of the round ears but the points go right through it.”

  “When you invoke the amulet, you will lose that power until the shield is dismissed. The illusion will become real to you. So, before you use the amulet, note carefully who is Sidhe and who is mortal. You would not want to stick a knife into the wrong person or hit a friend with an iron candlestick—especially as you will not be able to explain what you have done or why.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said, looking somewhat daunted, but then she perked up again. “Oh, I will find some very good reasons. I am good at finding reasons for things I do.”

  Denoriel sighed. “Yes, you are. Do not encourage her to make up stories, Mage Tangwystl. She is a past master of the art already. Now tell me what kind of amulet you will need. My sister, Aleneil—”

  “No. The amulet will need to be crafted exactly for the purpose,” the dark mage said and gestured.

  A Gate opened where the window had been behind the mage’s chair. It stretched wider and down to the floor. Denoriel rose and took Elizabeth’s hand. She looked at the Gate, again with that odd expression. There was no fear now, only a kind of disapproval. At the end of the black tunnel of the Gate, Denoriel could see some dull red lights.

  Tangwystl gestured them forward. Denoriel bowed but only signed for her to go first. She shrugged and stepped through the Gate without further hesitation. Denoriel followed, one hand on his sword hilt and the other holding Elizabeth behind him. Tangwystl snorted gently but gave her attention to the creature facing her across a low counter. The light was dim and reddish and the creature clacked a huge claw and hissed at them.

  “I need a special amulet, one that will suit this particular child.”

  “What child? I don’t see any child.”

  The voice was thin and querulous. Two large dark red eyes at the ends of long, flexible feelers peered around. Denoriel drew Elizabeth from behind him to stand at his side.

  “I see. That child.”

  The feelers holding the red eyes drew together and both eyes stared at Elizabeth. Elizabeth stared back, stiff as a rod, thin lips almost disappeared as they closed tight. The claw waved from side to side.

  “A mortal child, too. Difficult. Difficult. Very expensive. No warranty.” The eyes pulled back almost disappearing under the shadow of the carapace. “And in addition we don’t need any magic spells right now. How will you pay?”

  “I will pay when you need a magic spell. At that time I will give you the spell and you will give me nothing.”

  There was a long silence during which Elizabeth looked around, since she was not sure it would be polite to stare at the thing to which Tangwystl was speaking. It looked just like a giant crab and the querulous voice was crabby too; it was taking all Elizabeth’s strict lessons in polite behavior to keep her from bursting into giggles.

  At least the shop was interesting. There was worked stone everywhere, marble polished so highly that it reflected like a mirror, flowers with thin colored petals that Elizabeth longed to touch because they looked so real, a leafless tree in winter or dead, bone white limbs raised in supplication. And in cases on the walls, incredible jewels: a diamond as big as a wren’s egg, a ruby that glowed with sullen fire even in the dim light, golden topaz, cool, cloudy, pale green peridot, clear blue sapphire and those more costly, misty with a shining star.

  Elizabeth slipped her hand into Denno’s, wondering if she could cozen him into buying something for her. To her surprise, his hand closed hard over hers and the background argument to which Elizabeth had paid little attention suddenly stopped. Everyone looked at her, including the extended red eyes on feelers.

  There was a silence, and then Denno said, “No. I will give nothing of Elizabeth’s. No hair, no fingernail parings, no clothing, no other possession. If I could, I would stop her breathing so no mist from her lungs would float abroad Underhill. Nothing will be left Underhill when she is gone to draw her back or bespell her. No.”

  “Wait,” Tangwystl said. “They use no magic here. For what do you want her hairs, Crustacani?”

  The red eyes left off their concentration on Elizabeth, rose and peered at Denoriel. “Each hair is thick and strong, almost like wire. And it is the color of red gold. It shines to my eyes. We will use it to suspend the pans of a balance delicate enough to weigh single grains of sand.”

  “You see?” Tangwystl said to Denoriel. “There is no harm in that.”

  “Until someone comes and offers to buy or trade for the hairs. No.”

  “No one will even know we have them,” the crab-being said testily. “Such work is not done in public. Our balances, our workshops, are not open to any but ourselves.”

  “Will not know unless you tell them. I will not—” Denno’s voice checked suddenly; he looked from Elizabeth to the crab, smiled, and went on, “You say you use no magic. Very well. You can have three hairs cut, not pulled, from Elizabeth’s head, but I will cast a spell on them. If magic is done to them or even anywhere near enough for those hairs to be affected, they will return to Elizabeth’s head.”

  A crab cannot shrug. The claw made several little circles in the air. “Magic is nothing to us. We do not use it. That is why Tangwystl must come to us to bespell any amulets that are ordered.”

  “Very well, but she will not be able to bespell anything near the balance supported by Elizabeth’s hair. If the hairs feel magic of any kind, they will disappear.” Denoriel set his chin, looking just as stubborn as he claimed Elizabeth was.

  And the crab clearly could not have cared less. “Agreed. The amulet to be beautiful, of semiprecious stone, and set so it can be worn as an ornament. The payment to be three long hairs cut from the child’s head, bespelled against magic.”

  The creature scuttled out of the shop so rapidly that Elizabeth jumped and jumped again when it reappeared with a rather small, flat box which it set on the counter and from which it lifted the lid. Within were semiprecious stones. Most were already cut into ovals, rounds, or squares. A few were faceted. Elizabeth’s eyes were at once caught by a pair of oval-cut, mottled-green stones almost black in the dim reddish light but holding sparks of bright gold.

  “Denno, can I have those?”

  “No,” the Crustacani said before Denno could respond. “A pair. I do not wish to break up a pair. The bargain was for one stone.”

  “I will give you another three hairs for the second stone,” Elizabeth said, eyes gleaming.

  “Don’t need another three.”

  There was a silence; Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. Then she smiled. “Do you like fish?” she asked. She was aware of a choking noise from beside and behind her—Denno strangling laughter; she would strangle him if he spoiled her bargain. “Fish from the mortal world? Real fish?”

  The claw clacked. “Fish. We are talking about stones.”

  “One cannot eat stones, and I am sure you can find many more of them, but fresh fish—or salt if you
prefer salt—from the mortal world are not so easy to come by Underhill.”

  Silence. From just under where the feelers that held the eyes went into the carapace, a little liquid dripped. Elizabeth heard the choking sound again, but she only looked at the red eyes, which were withdrawn into the carapace and then peeked out again.

  “How much fish?”

  Coughing now sounded beside her but Elizabeth paid no attention. “A keg,” she said, and extracted her hand from Denno’s to use both hands to show the size. “So big and well packed. Tell me fresh or salt, and Lord Denno will deliver the cask to Tangwystl, who will bring it to you.”

  “Done. Both gems for three hairs and a keg of fresh fish. When will the fish come?”

  Now Elizabeth had to look up at Denno. His eyes looked suffused and he swallowed hard before he spoke, but he managed to say that he would bring the fish himself within two mortal days—it would be necessary for him to buy in the early morning in the fish market if the fish were to be truly fresh—if the Crustacani would tell him the name of his hold.

  “The hold is Carcinus Maenas, but it would be best if you came through Tangwystl’s Gate. Since we do no magic, we do not welcome visitors.”

  “Fish!” Tangwystl said, loathing in her voice. “My rooms will smell of fish for days.”

  “Do you not like fish?” Elizabeth asked innocently. “Properly cooked it is delicious. And properly fresh, it does not smell at all, Master Tangwystl—or no worse than the sea at least.”

  “It should not be cooked at all,” the Crustacani said.

  While they were talking Denno had drawn his knife and cut three hairs from Elizabeth’s head, which he folded in his hand and whispered over. It seemed to Elizabeth that the hairs actually grew brighter when he held them out to the crab person.

  From just above the bottom shell four little bony arms emerged, each tipped with half a dozen jointed, flexible fingers. One arm took the hairs from Denno’s hand, another arm uncoiled one. Between them they pulled the hair sharply, recoiled it, and similarly tested the other two. When all were approved, that arm withdrew.

  A second and third arm picked up the stones Elizabeth had selected and withdrew with them into the body of the Crustacani. Odd sounds emerged from the creature and the red eyes were closed and withdrawn. Elizabeth went back to examining the stonework and found several little statues that she would like to have, especially if it were to be at no greater cost than kegs of fish. After a time, one of the Crustacani’s arms reemerged. The green stones, now set into simple gold bands, each with a loop at the top so the stone could be hung from a chain or a bracelet or hooks for earrings, lay on the table.

  Tangwystl picked them up. “We will need to return to my rooms to embed the spells,” she said. “Usually I do them here, but I am afraid to be too near the hair.”

  She turned, and a black spot formed on the outer wall. As it enlarged, Elizabeth said to the Crustacani, “Thank you. You have been very kind to me. If you like the fish, send a message through Master Tangwystl. I will send more for one of the beautiful statues … if I am allowed.”

  The red eyes emerged. Stared. “Thanks taken. Which statues?”

  “The elvensteed. The mermaid. The Sidhe.”

  “If I like the fish …”

  Elizabeth felt a strong thrust on her back, stumbled, and righted herself by catching at Tangwystl’s chair. The mage laid the stones on her table and gestured for Denoriel and Elizabeth to go around the table to their chairs.

  “Oh dear,” Elizabeth said as she sat down. “Oh! All of that was for nothing. I forgot that Queen Titania said that I could take nothing from Underhill. That it would disappear or turn to dross if I took it with me.”

  Tangwystl lifted her head but it was Denno who said, “That is quite true, but the stones are not from Underhill, are they? You heard the craftsman, there is no magic there. These are solid and mortal, not of elven-make.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “And what of the statues I wanted?”

  “I …” Denoriel hoped he would not soon be so trapped in a maze of lies that he would expose them. “The statues are the same. The statues, you see, are only of common stone, not made by magic but carved by hand—or whatever the Crustacani use. You heard it say it did not use magic. Gold and jewels, as you see about us, they are magic-made. One must go to the Crustacani for real objects, and the more precious they are in your world, the rarer they are in his.”

  “Too bad.” Elizabeth sighed. “I love the necklace that goes with my court dress.”

  Tangwystl snorted. “Take it then, and see what happens, but do not weep when it becomes a string of acorns.” The mage exchanged a glance with Denoriel, who nodded slightly. “Now go. I must work the spells on these amulets and that is no short task, nor an easy one if the amulets must work in an ambiance of cold iron. I will send a messenger to you when I am ready, and Elizabeth must learn when her shields are being attacked and threatening to fail. But she is tired now—” the mage wrinkled her nose and exposed her sharp teeth “—or she should be.”

  “She must know when to invoke the amulet, yes,” Denoriel agreed. “And I can teach her external shields.”

  “Excellent, for I am not expert in those. Now … go.”

  And they were outside the white building only a few feet from where Miralys was peacefully grazing. Elizabeth stamped her foot in irritation. She was really growing to hate the way one was moved here and there like a chess piece at some other person’s whim.

  Denno looked at her in surprise, but she knew it was useless to tell him, just as it was useless to tell the French ambassador that his overelaborate bows and flowery speech were annoying rather than impressive. Meanwhile, the elvensteed had lifted his head and come toward them, the double saddle forming on his back as he took the few steps.

  Another ridiculous, impossible thing, but Elizabeth had to admit to herself that it was much more comfortable than the pillion pads of what she was coming to think of as the “real” world. Denno mounted and lifted her onto the saddle behind him. A short ride over the perfect lawn and down a flower-bordered lane brought them to the Gate of Avalon where, inured as she had become to marvels, Elizabeth stared and caught her breath.

  The interwoven boughs of eight trees wrought of solid silver made a gleaming roof, and when Miralys stepped up onto the low platform his silver hooves rested on a pavement, not of marble, but a mosaic of an eight-pointed star, formed of thousands of pearly seashells, each smaller than the nail of a newborn baby’s finger. Four large figures in glowing armor turned as one to look at them and a voice came—seemingly not from any one but from all.

  “Denoriel Siencyn Macreth Silverhair we know. What mortal do you carry and by whose permission?”

  “The mortal is Lady Elizabeth Tudor, daughter of Henry of England, by permission of Queen Titania.”

  A moment passed during which Elizabeth again felt an icy chill like the one that had passed over her when Denno had brought her into the palace of Llachar Lle. She could feel Denoriel stiffen, and then the chill was gone and that disembodied voice said, “Pass. She is marked in the Guardians’ memories.” And they were under the opalescent lace roof of the Gate of Logres.

  “Fish,” Denno said, as Miralys stepped off the marble platform on which they had arrived. “How in the world did you think of asking if the Crustacani liked fish?”

  He twisted around so he could see Elizabeth’s face. She was staring at him with a child’s scornful surprise at the obtuseness of grown-ups.

  “It was a crab, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Crabs eat fish. I don’t know what kind of fish you have here, but if they are made things, like your servants, perhaps they do not taste as good as real live fish. What else could I offer in a place where pillars are made of chalcedony and necklaces of gold and rubies appear out of thin air?” But then she reached out to clutch at his arm, her face now intense with eagerness. “Never mind that. Will my Da be waiting for us?”

  In that moment Denoriel k
new that Elizabeth would have to see Harry in the flesh. Unlike Harry himself, nothing could divert Elizabeth from a purpose truly dear to her heart. The boy had been so distracted by the wonder and strangeness of Underhill that he had almost completely forgotten the horror of being chased and almost taken by the Unseleighe Wild Hunt. Aside from her pleasure in the magnificent court dress Aleneil had created for her, Elizabeth seemed more annoyed than enchanted by the miracles Underhill.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I hope so. But I can promise nothing. You see how it is here,” he added, a little sadly, “there are times when one cannot be sure of anything.”

  Miralys had been making a leisurely way toward the palace, allowing time to admire it in the distance among the patches of graceful trees and flower-starred fields. But then, having sensed the eagerness of his riders, they were suddenly at the portal. Without another word, they dismounted, hurried through the postern beside the great brass doors, passed the great corridor, and arrived at Denoriel’s deceptive doorway. Inside, however, no written message lay on the ivory table in his entrance foyer, no air spirit flitted about impatiently, no invisible servant came to whisper an explanation.

  Elizabeth ran past Denoriel into the sitting room and ran out again, tears brimming in her eyes. “He is not here.”

  “No, I see that.”

  “Did Lady Alana not give him your message?”

  “I am sure she delivered the message, but possibly not to Harry himself. I told you, Elizabeth, that he is a young man who lives a busy life.”

  “Busy? But he would come to see me! I am sure he would come to see me.” The tears overflowed her lower lids and streaked her cheeks; for once, she was all child, and a severely disappointed and disheartened one.

  “Yes. I am sure he would—if he had got the message.”

  Denoriel racked his brain trying to remember just what he had said to Aleneil when she went off to convince Kat Champernowne that Elizabeth was safe in her bed resting. And when he remembered, he felt his heart sink. Fool that he was, afraid of reminding Elizabeth of her demand to see Harry, all he had said was that Aleneil should leave a message that Elizabeth was Underhill. He had not reminded her of Mwynwen’s jealousy of the child. Which probably meant that Aleneil had given his message to Mwynwen and Harry had never heard of it.