Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  The only danger was Elizabeth. Vidal thought fleetingly of the chance of snatching her and dismissed it. If she disappeared, the whole kingdom would be roused to search for her he feared, and using a simulacrum was out of the question. Edward’s reformists liked witchcraft no better than the Inquisition. His decision to use a slow poison on her seemed still to be the best choice. It did not really matter when she died, so long as it was before Edward and Mary.

  Only, when he arrived in London on January 30, he learned that his plans had again gone awry. Prysor, the Sidhe who had taken on Sir William Paulet’s appearance, came to Otstargi’s house, fearful of punishment but afraid worse would befall him if he did not confess, to inform his master that he had not, after all, poisoned Elizabeth.

  “Idiot! Why not?” Vidal roared.

  Prysor was wearing every protection he had and he was angry, too. “Her mind was shielded so strongly that the backlash of the spell of confusion and incomprehension struck me,” he hissed. “You told me to render her helpless! And you did not warn me that her mind was closed and protected. I have never felt such a wall!”

  “She is only a mortal child,” Vidal snarled. “How can she have such protection?”

  “I would suspect from the Seleighe Court,” Prysor snapped; he was not nearly as strong as Vidal magically, but sometimes he thought his master’s mind was muddled. “Where else? Anyhow, the rest is short to tell. When the backlash of my spell hit me, my reason deserted me. If I could have thought, I would have left and tried again later under some pretense, but as I was, nearly mindless, I could only do what you had commanded. When the children were in each other’s arms, weeping, the whole court moved toward them to comfort them. I was in the forefront, and I plunged your poison thorn right into the girl’s shoulder in the pretense of patting it to give her comfort.”

  Vidal’s brows drew together. “Then why do you say you failed to poison her? If the thorn even scratched her lightly, she will die. It will take longer than a real stab into her flesh where the whole thing could dissolve, but …”

  “But her body was shielded, too!” Prysor exclaimed, his voice breaking with frustration. “The thorn slipped right off her shoulder and I lost it! It slid out of my fingers and shot between her and the prince. They were close embraced. I sought for it in the guise of patting him, too, but I could not find it. I think it was caught in his gown, but I dared not feel around for it. She was watching. She was weeping, but she saw what I was.”

  “Useless! You are worse than useless!” Vidal lifted his hand. The Sidhe saw torture, even death, in his eyes.

  “No, I am not!” Prysor cried. “I learned something you would like to know.”

  Vidal’s hand dropped. “Well?”

  “They are taking her Underhill. When my mind cleared, I knew I had failed and that you would be angry so I went back alone to Enfield, pretending I came to ask after Lady Elizabeth’s well-doing. Once I was admitted, it was easy enough to put on the Don’t-see-me spell and to listen at the door.”

  “Listen at the door? At the door? You fool! You were already beyond their sight.”

  “Not beyond hers. She saw through the disguise I was wearing and could easily see through Don’t-see-me. It is not a very strong spell—” He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Ah, it matters not whether she could see me, I could not go in no matter if she could or no; they were all there. The two Bright Court devils who are always somewhere about her and that accursed maid with her necklace of cold iron—it nearly killed me to be in the same room with her. But I heard enough, that they were going to build a Gate to Logres.”

  “Logres,” Vidal sneered, lifting his hand again. “Do you think I needed your stupid spying to tell me they would take the girl to Logres? Denoriel lives there, idiot!”

  “But I went through the Gate after them!”

  Vidal paused. Prysor was nothing in magic—and in a way that was good; think of the danger Pasgen presented—but Prysor liked pain, even his own, and he was very daring.

  “They did not notice you?”

  The Sidhe smiled. “Not with them, after them. Just before the Gate closed, I leapt in. They were still in the Gate when I arrived, but the two Sidhe were drained out and did not notice me. It is no light task to force a Gate from the mortal world to Underhill. And the girl … I do not understand why, but before I could leap off the Gate and hide, she looked right at me and did not see me.”

  “That is very interesting,” Vidal said, staring at the Sidhe. “Are you sure?” Prysor nodded. “I remit you half your pains,” Vidal murmured.

  Now Prysor laughed aloud. “You will remit the rest in a moment. I could not get into Denoriel’s apartment, but that fool has these huge windows in the palace wall and I was able to listen near them without showing myself.”

  Vidal watched his minion; the Sidhe’s eyes were bright and a mottled color rose in his cheeks. It was true the fool had failed to kill Elizabeth, Vidal thought, but he was foolishly daring. To be caught spying in Seleighe territory … One would be thrust into Dreaming, to suffer the horrors of one’s own fears for eternity. Vidal shuddered.

  Nor was Prysor such a fool, really. When he failed in his assigned mission, he had not simply fled. He had come about and tried to do something.

  “Oh, yes,” Vidal said. “Your punishment is remitted. Now tell me something that is worth a reward.”

  “A reward … something to cut apart very slowly?” Prysor asked, his mouth suddenly so wet that bubbles showed at the corners of his lips. “A mortal?”

  “By all means.” Vidal smiled. Here was a Sidhe with inclinations very like his own.

  “They are taking the girl to an Unformed land to kill a lion that she created there,” Prysor said triumphantly. “And the Unformed land is an Unseleighe domain, or near enough to it to make them cautious.”

  Vidal’s expectations, which had flown high on Prysor’s jubilant expression, came crashing down. “An Unformed land,” he mocked. “You idiot! Unformed lands are myriad.”

  “Lord, I am not an idiot,” Prysor snapped back, his voice suddenly hard and his eyes almost glowing. “I am not strong in magic, but I can do small things very well once I am shown how. I will know which Unformed land the party enters because I made another thorn, not with poison but with a silent alarm, a tiny little watchdog to bark its alert to lead us to where they are.”

  “Ah!” Vidal leaned forward across Otstargi’s table, then frowned. “They will feel it and discard it.

  “Lord, there is nothing to feel. The tag is dead, until they step out of the Gate at their destination. Then it will signal me … but in the ambience of the Gate such a small flicker of magic will not be noticed.”

  Oh, that was clever, clever— “You have earned your reward … if we follow your signal and find those we seek.” Vidal stood up. “We will Gate to Goblin Fair and wait by that Gate for your signal. I can redirect a market Gate to harken to that signal and take us there. And if our party is there, do not leave the Gate. Go back to the market and at once to Caer Mordwyn. Gather up any creatures that are there and the two mages resident and bring them back with you. And if we succeed in ridding ourselves of Elizabeth and her Bright Court companions … I will not only give you a domain but build what you like upon it.”

  Chapter 32

  Eventually the air spirit Harry had sent after Elidir and Mechain found them, and brought them to Denoriel’s apartment. The two elder elves were a bit puzzled at Elizabeth’s presence Underhill, and some time was spent explaining where they wanted to go and why … and when Harry could get one of them alone informing them more completely … about Henry’s death and the need to divert Elizabeth until the worst of her grief had passed.

  “And you?” Mechain asked him.

  Harry paused for a moment, considering his own reaction now that the shock was over. “I am sorry my father is dead,” he said. “I loved him when I was a child, but when I grew older, I saw other things. And he was no longer the cen
ter point of my life. Denoriel has been more of a father to me … or brother, now that I am a man. I do grieve, but it does not wrench my soul as it does Elizabeth’s.” He sighed. “Perhaps—well, I should not speculate. It is enough that she came to us in tears and in fear.”

  “Then we surely must divert her,” said Mechain with a decisive nod, “and not with games and pleasantries. You are quite right about that, Harry, as you so often are. To deal with the Unformed land is a kind of good work, and will surely occupy all of her mind.”

  All in all, it was some time before they left. When they came out of Llachar Lle, however, both Mechain and Elidir turned suddenly to look left. Both frowning, each went in a different direction and looked around the portico. They came back shrugging, admitting they had found no one—but that just for a moment, both of them had felt an inimical presence. They looked at Elizabeth, who shook her head.

  “In the mortal world I can feel magic and see through illusion, but here … I am so flooded with magic …” she gestured helplessly. “The very air is full of magic. I didn’t notice anything.”

  Still, all of them anxiously examined Elizabeth, checking her clothing, her hair, everything. They found nothing, and after again looking around the portico and cursorily through the ornamental gardens around the palace, they mounted their elvensteeds and set out for the Gate.

  Ignoring the pattern plaque of the Logres Gate, even though there were always two termini kept blank for temporary patterning, Mechain called up an antique plaque of her own and activated it.

  “We had so much trouble finding this place and it was so strange,” she said as they arrived at the Gate in the Unformed land, “that I made a plaque just tuned to this Gate.”

  “Hmmm.” Elidir looked around and then stepped off the slight rise of the Gate platform. “It looks much better,” he said.

  The mists did seem to be back to normal, not so dense or dark or angry looking as at their last visit and twisting and flowing without any sign of particular purpose. Mechain followed Elidir. There was no change in the behavior of the mist. Harry stepped down, then Elizabeth, then Denoriel.

  Mechain and Elidir turned to look back at the Gate. “Did you feel that?” they asked each other almost simultaneously and then shook their heads.

  “Nothing now,” Elidir said after standing and listening with his head cocked.

  “I agree,” Mechain said, “but I could swear that I felt something, like an echo of the Gate closing.” She too listened intently and then shook her head. “Whatever it was is gone now and I cannot sense anything wrong with the Gate. Come down, Aleneil, and let me see if it happens again.”

  However, nothing happened that Elidir or Mechain could detect, which was reasonable enough because Prysor’s tag had struck Denoriel rather than Elizabeth and fallen into a fold of his sleeve.

  “Elizabeth?” Denoriel asked.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t feel anything. Just the usual Gate feeling of blackness and falling and then being here. But the mists don’t feel funny. Not angry.”

  She stepped forward and the mists seemed to bow back away from her, not as if they were avoiding her but almost in invitation. Denoriel, to her right, put a hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back and Harry paced forward with her to the left. The rest of the party followed, spreading out

  “Be careful, Elizabeth,” Denoriel said. “The mist could close in on you if you go much farther forward into it.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said. “I can feel the Gate behind me. And the mist is so pretty. See how it sparkles? Though—” her brow wrinkled “—that is rather strange because there’s nothing to make it sparkle … no sun, no moon.”

  She had been walking forward as she spoke, but the mists did not curve around as if to engulf her. They kept their distance and she smiled at them and thanked them as she would have thanked any mortal servant. Then she turned to see where the rest of the party was. Aleneil was not immediately apparent, and she turned farther—and froze.

  “Who is that?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the Gate.

  Denoriel and Harry whirled around both with hands on their swords. This was tentatively Unseleighe territory, since Pasgen had claimed it for his own, and their presence might well be considered an invasion that called for instant attack.

  And the figure who appeared in the Gate was the last person Underhill that they wanted to see.

  “What are you doing on Unseleighe land?” Vidal roared, his hands glowing with dark power, his face black with rage.

  “It is my fault, sir,” Elizabeth said, before either Denoriel or Harry could answer.

  Denoriel put his hand out to draw Elizabeth back, but he could not touch her and knew her shield was up. He added another layer but said nothing. Vidal had not drawn a weapon or raised his hand to cast any bolts.

  Nonetheless, Elizabeth’s warning had come too late. On the flanks of the party, Elidir and Mechain had been angling toward the Dark Prince. Elidir had drawn his sword, but there was a flash of light, and suddenly Mechain’s hands were at her throat where one of Vidal’s pretty glowing ribbons had fixed itself. Her breathing was not yet impeded, but Vidal could strangle her at will.

  “And who are you, worthless mortal?” Vidal said, lip curled in disdain.

  “Mortals are not worthless,” Elizabeth snapped back, touching her left ear and murmuring, “Minnau ymbil.” Then louder, “But it is my fault that we are all here. Some time ago, this place was Seleighe and at that time I—I somehow caused a lion to form, a very hungry lion. Now that the place has moved, I felt a creature so dangerous should be removed, not allowed to prey on … on those who did not know of the lion’s existence.”

  Vidal smirked down at her, a superior and exceedingly haughty gaze of one who is certain he is not to be gainsaid. “Lion or no lion, you had no right—”

  “Enough, Elizabeth,” Denoriel said, interrupting Vidal and stepping in front of her. “You cannot reason with this one. It is Vidal Dhu, and he has been behind all the attacks on you. He does not really care about our being on Unseleighe territory. He only wants to be rid of all of us. Let Mechain go, Vidal. If you harm her, you will not be able to escape us all.”

  “If you harm Mechain or try that ribbon trick on me, you will die quite horribly,” Harry said, drawing his gun. “I assure you I can shoot you before you can strangle her or me.”

  Vidal laughed, but he was really very annoyed with Elizabeth. The girl had a penchant for fouling his luck. He could hardly believe in his good fortune when no one noticed his arrival. They were all intent on the mists ahead of them and had not seen him. To Vidal every minute they looked away brought closer the time when his servants would flood through the Gate to support him. Then Elizabeth had turned.

  Now all he could do was pretend it did not matter and play for more time. He stepped out of the Gate, sneering, “O brave and honorable denizens of the Seleighe Court, you are five to my one. Why should I not try to even the odds? I have done your companion no harm, and will do her no harm if you do me none. It is Denoriel Siencyn Macreth Silverhair whom I owe a grudge. Denoriel, who once unfairly used mortal magic to defeat me. What do you say, Denoriel, will you meet me here, where there is no mortal magic? Will you vie with me in duel arcane and bid your companions to swear not to interfere?”

  “Don’t, Denno,” Harry said, immediately. “He’ll cheat. You know he will.”

  Denoriel gripped Harry’s arm fondly and looked back at Elizabeth. She was wide-eyed and a little pale but showed no sign of panic. He swung around to Vidal and smiled slowly. Vidal had been the better magician when they met in Elizabeth’s bedchamber over ten years ago, but Denoriel had studied magic quite earnestly for some years now. And furthermore, Vidal had been far more gravely injured in that duel than Denoriel. The odds were good that his mind was still not altogether sound.

  He stared back at Vidal, coolly. “I will meet you gladly, Vidal, and ask oath of my companions not to interfere with our battl
e … so long as they are free to defend themselves from any of your servants or companions.”

  “You see I am alone here, you puppy!” Vidal roared. “Make them swear as I command!”

  Mechain made a choking sound. Harry raised his gun, and took a step forward, taking clear aim at Vidal’s body where he could hardly miss.

  It was enough. Vidal winced as the cold iron directed at him sent a slicing of pain across his chest, even at that distance. The pain eroded the last of his self-restraint, and his temper escaped its bonds, which had been tenuous to begin with.

  Vidal jumped off the Gate platform and charged toward Denoriel who backed hurriedly away, thrusting Elizabeth toward Harry, who lowered his gun to put a protective arm around her shoulders. The signal was clear. As long as Vidal concentrated on Denoriel, Harry was bound not to help, and his mortal weapon was out of play.

  Denoriel was backing up less because he wished to avoid Vidal than because he wanted to draw Vidal to where he would not readily be able to see the others. That this took Denoriel farther from the Gate, he cared not at all.

  Denoriel’s and Vidal’s rush would have carried them into the mists, but those pulled away also, and neither hid Denoriel nor proved any barrier to the triple stream of arcane darts that flashed toward him. He paid no mind to them and they all struck his shield, flared, and disappeared. Instead, he stared fixedly at Vidal; Vidal took that for fear, and readied his next attack, exaltation surging through his veins.

  While Vidal watched the course of his knives, a swift, glinting array of near-invisible ribbons of light flashed toward him, not toward his neck and head, which would have drawn his attention, but toward his feet. The harmless-seeming ribbons slithered past his shield and up to his ankles where they suddenly tightened, entangling his feet, and pulling at him with a sudden jerk, so that he nearly fell. The monstrous creature he was in the midst of evoking howled with pain as it began to dissolve before it had entirely formed. In obedience to the last command Vidal had given it, it thrashed at Denoriel.