Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Hmmm, yes.” Pasgen did not seem upset by Rhoslyn’s display of temper. “That child’s Talent is a cursed nuisance. And the maid would not leave her alone in a secret place. Likely the best place to deal with the maid will be the stable. Elizabeth rides and the maid does not, but the maid will certainly escort her charge to the stable.”

  Rhoslyn brightened, not the least because the stable was one of the safer places for an intruder to lie in wait. “Now that is an excellent thought, brother. I will go myself and discover how often Elizabeth rides, who accompanies her, and what the maid does when Elizabeth leaves.” Rhoslyn nodded briskly. “That is my part and I will take care it is well done. If it would make your part easier, I could leave a token where I wanted the Gate to be.”

  Pasgen nodded. “That would make it easier. I could build the Gate at leisure and only activate it at your need. Then the power for building and sustaining would be separated. But I still do not see the need for the Gate to be held open. Surely you would be able to send an imp to me to tell me when to reopen it?”

  Rhoslyn shook her head, her lips compressed to a thin line. “Aurelia is much recovered, but she still has moments when she cannot fix her mind. There is too much chance that she will freeze if something goes wrong. If the maid should throw one of the crosses in our direction, for example. I cannot bear cold iron, but Aurelia is violently sensitive to it now. I need to be able to push her through a Gate if we are likely to be discovered.”

  Pasgen looked thoughtful and then nodded. Satisfied and much less anxious, Rhoslyn agreed to have a meal with him, and they talked of pleasanter things. Rhoslyn was attempting to make a pattern around which she could force the mists of the chaos lands to form; that would save her from needing to create a creature from the basic mist each time she wanted one.

  Pasgen still had not discovered a way to inactivate the red mist, but the self-motivated bit Rhoslyn had discovered was becoming very cooperative. It seemed to be responding well to learning mental commands, which Pasgen rewarded by feeding it portions of the substance of the chaos lands.

  “Just don’t feed it any of that red mist or vice versa,” Rhoslyn said as she sat sipping her wine at the end of the meal. “Just think of a self-willed devourer.”

  “Hmmm.” Pasgen’s lip’s pursed.

  Rhoslyn sat upright. “Pasgen!” she exclaimed. “No. Promise me you will not.”

  “Well … not without considerable thought and study. But …” He saw how distressed she was and laughed. “Very well, sister. I promise.”

  Rhoslyn stood up. “I had better get back to London and stop in at St. James’s Palace. Perhaps I can find a suitable groom to explain the arrangements for riding. With Aurelia so set on revenge, I want to be done with this as soon as possible.”

  Although the return path to the Bazaar of the Bizarre was extremely tortuous, Rhoslyn arrived there safely, and in only three more transits was back in Pasgen’s house in the World Above. As Pasgen’s house, off the Strand, was no great distance from St. James’s, Rhoslyn simply wrapped herself in a nondescript cloak and walked.

  Passing Whitehall, she entered the broad avenue where Henry VIII had once played at paille-maille. Young courtiers, squires, and pages still played when the king was in residence, but that was very rare these days; usually Henry stayed in Whitehall. Thus the broad, carefully mown lane was empty. Still, Rhoslyn kept well to the side, almost invisible as she passed along the avenue of trees and bushes that bordered the playing field. As she neared the end of that avenue and approached the gate that provided entrance to the palace grounds, she whispered the Don’t-see-me spell.

  As she had expected, by Queen Catherine’s order there was considerable traffic of supplies and even furnishings still coming into St. James’s. Rhoslyn did not need to wait very long before the guards opened the gate to a cart carrying hangings for Elizabeth’s bedchamber. She followed it in, but did not turn left along the lane that led to a side door. Rhoslyn went the other way, skirted the side of the palace and came to the gate that opened into the deer park and riding paths.

  A bored guard, half asleep, stood at the Gate. Rhoslyn took shelter behind an ornamental bush—sometimes when one meddled with a person’s mind, that would cause the Don’t-see-me spell to fail—and pushed the thought of opening the gate and looking around into the guard’s mind. When he did step into the park, Rhoslyn stepped in almost on his heels and was safe inside before, shaking his head and wondering why he had decided to do something so gormless, he stepped out again.

  From there it was a short walk to the stables in their separate enclosure near the palace. Rhoslyn slipped in the unguarded gate and made her way softly—taking care that her shadow should not draw attention to a person who was not there—into the stable itself.

  Here there was activity. Rhoslyn immediately recognized Elizabeth’s servants, a strong, dark-haired older man and a broad-shouldered but still boyishly spare younger one. In a few moments she had their names: the younger called the elder Kip, another groom called him Ladbroke. The same groom called the younger man Tolliver, while Ladbroke called him Reeve. More important, in the next few minutes she had the information for which she had come.

  “‘S th’lady ridin’ agin t’arternoon?” the groom asked. “Be so, th’guard’s ‘orses need readyin’.”

  “Those were my instructions from Mistress Champernowne,” Ladbroke said. “Until further notice, Lady Elizabeth will be at her books in the morning and then will ride out every day the weather is fine in the afternoon for her health and to exercise.”

  “Nice bits o’ ‘orseflesh she rides. Know a nag what could pass as t’is ‘un’s sister,” the groom observed. “Make a puckle coin in th’change.”

  Tolliver, who had been brushing one of the horses’ fetlocks, stood up suddenly, the brush in one hand clenched as a weapon, the other in a fist.

  “I chose Lady Elizabeth’s horses myself,” Ladbroke said. “I know every hair on their bodies—”

  “Nah!” the groom replied in alarm. “Wasn’t tryin’ t’ chouse you. Would I’a said ‘t if’n I were? Bet m’lady wouldn’ know.”

  Tolliver laughed, and to Rhoslyn, the laughter had the overtones of anger in it. “I should take that bet. You deserve to be done out of your money. My lady would certainly know if her mount did not recognize her, who had been riding her for four years, or if her horse was suddenly less spirited than before. Young as she is, my lady knows more than you would think.”

  Hidden in a shadowed corner and by the spell, Rhoslyn smiled mirthlessly. Out of loyalty and admiration her own servants were building a foundation for a charge of witchcraft. How convenient.

  “A babe?” The groom snorted. “Royal babe ‘t that?”

  “Willful she can be,” Ladbroke said, grinning, “but the boy is quite right. Lady Elizabeth would know before she mounted that it was not her horse.” The grin was replaced by a scowl. “And that is quite enough, Stover. There will be no meddling with any of the mounts of our party. I should like to know why the guards’ horses are not already ready to go out. If you have left them foul to ease an exchange, I will have your place!”

  The groom swelled belligerently. “You ‘nd who else?”

  “Me, for one,” Tolliver snapped, stepping forward.

  How convenient, Rhoslyn thought again. If Aurelia used Stover to attack the maid, Ladbroke and Tolliver would not be in the least surprised by his bad behavior and would doubtless testify against the man instead of being stubbornly silent. Pleased at how easily a plan had worked itself out, she sidled out of the stable.

  Originally Rhoslyn had been planning to suggest that Aurelia bespell Tolliver, thinking it would serve that pest Elizabeth right to have one of her servants kill another. It was believable that Tolliver could have come to desire the maid, who was still young and comely. But then Rhoslyn remembered that Ladbroke had once lived Underhill. And he was one of those who had not forgotten. It was in his eyes. He might sense the spell on Tolliver. S
tover was a better choice.

  Now she had to find a place for Pasgen to set his Gate. Because Aurelia would be Gating into this place in broad daylight, the place would need to be concealed. Rhoslyn had first thought of choosing a spot in the stable itself, but the horses would most likely react poorly to a Gate appearing in their midst. Any whinnying or stamping unrest by those tenderly nurtured beasts would certainly bring their attentive grooms.

  One side of the stable was used as the wall of a small paddock, the back of the stable faced the start of one of the bridle paths. Rhoslyn looked out into the deer park, wondering if she would have to choose some patch of brush, but that would mean she and Aurelia would have to cross some distance to reach the stable, likely in sight of Elizabeth, who would be riding out at the same time as they appeared. Elizabeth could see through illusion, and she might see them despite any spells they used to conceal themselves.

  Fortunately the side of the stable that faced the palace was shielded by a tall yew hedge. Rhoslyn worked her way between the hedge and the stable wall. In some places she could barely squeeze past, encumbered with farthingaled skirts as she was, but she found a place where several branches had died out and had been broken to form a sort of hollow. There she laid her token from Pasgen on the ground. She and Aurelia would step out of nowhere into a place of privacy where they could not possibly be seen. Then all they needed was to take care not to shake the branches of the yews too much as they moved toward the entrance to the stable.

  The rest of the day was very busy. She Gated to the empty house Underhill, and from there sent a message to Pasgen through the mind speakers who lived there. Then she sent an imp to Aurelia and was immediately called to Caer Mordwyn where she explained what had been arranged. Aurelia was pleased and with behavior unlike her past, autocratic performances, was perfectly willing to fall in with Rhoslyn’s plans.

  Elizabeth’s entire staff focused on distracting her mind from what she had lost by going out into the garden in the middle of the night. Master Grindal gave Elizabeth only the day on which they arrived before he set her a heavy task of translation. He had heard the queen say, he told her, that she would like very much to read Margaret of Navarre’s long poem The Mirror of the Sinful Soul, but that her French was weak and spoiled the sense of the work.

  He was sure he said to Elizabeth that the queen would truly value The Mirror turned from French into English. With Elizabeth’s elegant handwriting, it would be, Grindal said, a perfect gift for Queen Catherine for Christmas. And to make it even more personal, Elizabeth could also embroider a cover for the work.

  Since Master Grindal also expected Elizabeth to keep up with her Latin and Greek—so she should not be shamed when they rejoined the group at Hampton Court, he told her sternly—she had enough to keep her mornings full. And when she came to eat her nuncheon, Kat Champernowne told her that a messenger had come from Lord Denno to ask if Elizabeth could ride with him in the deer park that very afternoon. And when Elizabeth pettishly said she was too tired and sad to ride out, Kat shook her head.

  “Oh, you must, my dear. He has missed being with you so much all this time you were at court. Do not be so unkind. Lord Denno has been such a good friend to us.”

  “But he—” Elizabeth began and then bit her lip. “Oh, very well. I should look at the park, I suppose, and I might as well do it in his company.”

  Kat did not know, of course, how often Denno had met her in the maze or how often they had ridden together in the park beyond the Wilderness. And he was worried about what had happened after he and her Da had returned Underhill. And it was not poor Denno’s fault that she had been caught in the garden with Da. It was all her own fault, all her own.

  That was the bitterest part, that Elizabeth could blame no one except herself for her exile. If she had not been so suspicious, if she had trusted Denno, she could have met Da Underhill in perfect safety.

  But now she knew he was real, knew he was alive … and knew Denno had never lied to her. If she had not taken the chance—yes, and suffered the consequences—she would never be entirely sure that Da was really, truly alive.

  “There, that’s my gracious, smiling lady,” Kat said approvingly. “I knew you weren’t going to meet poor Lord Denno with such a scowl on your face as you have been wearing since that trouble in the garden. And it is such a lovely palace, Lady Elizabeth, and right in London. When we are settled, we can go and look at the markets and the shops.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Yes. And Denno will give me money so I can buy.”

  “Oh, my love, my lady, I will find something for you,” Kat said in distress. “You must not ask Lord Denno.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Kat, you have not two pennies to clink together in your purse, and it is just fortunate that Dunstan has the trust of our old servants and they are willing to wait for their wages until the start of the new quarter or we would be rattling around in this palace without anyone to make the beds or cook or serve. Anyway, why should I not ask Denno?”

  Kat rubbed her hands together uneasily. “It is unwise for a lady situated like yourself, so close to the king and the king’s heir, to be in debt to a … a foreign merchant.”

  “That is ridiculous,” Elizabeth said. “You know Denno does not need any favors from me, and I would never dare approach my father on such a subject even if Denno asked.”

  “I’faith, you are only a little girl now,” Kat warned darkly, “but such debts can have a long life. I would like you to promise me that you will not ask Denno for money.”

  Elizabeth looked at her governess from under her lashes. Her eyes were bright with amusement. She knew she had only to show a preference for any item and Denno would buy it. She would not need to ask.

  “Very well, I promise not to ask him for money.”

  She was surprised when a manservant reached around her arm and removed her plate—surprised because she had not realized that she had eaten the entire portion Kat had placed on it. She had expected the food to stick in her throat as it had been doing for the past few days while they readied themselves for the move and the litany “all my fault, all mine” repeated in her head

  Now, although she did miss the stimulation of trying to outdo the young gentlemen who had years more of study under their caps, she knew she had enjoyed Master Grindal’s pointed remarks on her successes and failures. Most of the young dolts only thought about translating the words; Master Grindal wanted her to think about what each word meant in the context of the entire work. He stimulated in another way.

  Replying absently to Kat’s continued remarks about the advantages of being in St. James’s Palace, Elizabeth finished the remainder of her meal, drank her wine, and went to change her dress for riding. Blanche, as usual, accompanied her to the stable, where Denno came forward to greet her. Her horse was brought out, Denno lifted her to the saddle, Dickson and Gerrit also mounted, and they all rode out with Tolliver trailing two horse-lengths behind.

  Blanche stood talking to Ladbroke, wondering whether it was worthwhile to walk back to the palace. She did not think, she told him, that Elizabeth would ride long today. Ladbroke shrugged and offered her a stool to sit on if she intended to wait. She accepted with thanks. He went to get the stool and Blanche took her spindle from the basket she had carried on her arm. She pinched up some carded wool from the basket and began to spin.

  “‘Eard ‘bout some princess prickin’ ‘er finger on t’at toy ‘nd fallin’ asleep a hundret years,” a coarse voice said. “Nice ‘t see pretty ‘oman spin.”

  Blanche smiled, although she drew back a little from the smell of the man. Still, it never hurt to be polite. “Thank you for the compliment,” she said. “And who are you?”

  “Stover’s m’name. Re-si-dent groom,” he added carefully as if the proper pronunciation did not come easily to him. “Ran whole stable afore tey’uns come. Who needs ‘um?”

  “Ladbroke and Tolliver have been my lady’s grooms since she was about three ye
ars old,” Blanche said, a little stiffly. “They are very devoted to her, and she to them. They are very honest and knowing.”

  Stover snorted. “So sharp tey’d cut theirselfs if’n tey ain’t careful.”

  Ostentatiously Blanche looked away from him toward the inside of the stable.

  “So, wach’y do when young’uns t’bed?” Stover asked, coming closer.

  Taking a step back, Blanche said sharply, “I have duties enough to keep me busy, I assure you.”

  “Dull sleepin’ alone.”

  “But safe and comfortable,” Blanche snapped. “And I am sure you, too, have duties you should be attending. I recommend that you get to them.”

  “And I recommend the same.” Ladbroke’s voice was hard and cold. “There’s plenty of harness that needs cleaning.” He set one of the stools he carried in the open doorway, dusting it off carefully. “Sorry to be so long, Mistress Parry. I was looking for this lazy lout to remind him about the harness, and to tell him to muck out the stalls of Dickson’s and Gerrit’s horses while they’re out.”

  “Horses don’ care,” Stover said.

  Both Ladbroke and Blanche stared at him for a moment. Blanche turned her back, muttering—but loud enough to hear—“Disgusting.” Ladbroke pointed in silence to the interior of the stable. Apparently Stover saw something in Ladbroke’s face that induced him not to push his luck any further.

  “That was the outside of enough,” Ladbroke said, anger in his voice. “I wanted to give him a week to get used to us and working, but I will have to tell the steward to get rid of him at once.”