“Yet,” Madoc continued, quirking an eyebrow at her, “if you do have the right of it, that wizard I saw will still be lurking in Scotland. I doubt he’ll have died or turned from his wicked ways while we’re out of the country.”
“As do I. And I’ll say as much when I send messages home.” Her smile turned to a wolf’s bared teeth. “We’ll need to clean our own house, and if my father or Agnes cannot do it with letters or meetings, then Douglas or I will manage it in other ways. We’ll not let such things fester for long, have no fear. But you won’t have to concern yourself. You’ll have gone back home and likely further out of his reach.”
“We can hope,” said Madoc.
The prospect of being wrong, and of therefore still being in danger, worried him as it would have done any man in his senses. However, Madoc found he could think of that with more equanimity than he could that one sentence, so clearly meant to reassure: You’ll not have to concern yourself.
He didn’t like the idea of parting ways, of Moiread arriving home and going about her father’s business while he took up his duties half of Britain away. That such a situation was the best he could hope for, the ideal result of his mission, did not make the idea sit any more comfortably.
Well, and you can meet every few years, he told himself. Travel is far easier for her than most others, remember.
Yet he would miss the freedom of the road and the straightforward mission before him, and he thought he would miss Moiread’s company more than either.
Nineteen
In time, after Madoc had pulled out a well-folded map and consulted it, they left the main road for another, and then that for a winding path into the hills. As the day was dying, they came to a small meadow with a mound rising in the middle of it, covered with pale new grass.
“Here?” Moiread asked, not entirely easily. Her father dealt with the true nonhumans, those whose blood bore no taint of mortality. He hadn’t done so often, and those Moiread had met hadn’t held high rank among their kind. She’d never entered their domain. To cover her nerves, she cleared her throat. “Should we tie the horses?”
“No, they’ll pass through safely enough.”
Indeed, viewed close at hand, the mound did reach a little above Madoc’s head as he sat his horse, and it was more than wide enough to let both of them pass riding abreast. Still, Moiread’s experience with horses and her own inhuman nature left her eyeing both their mounts with caution as she watched Madoc dismount.
If the nature of the place bothered the horses, they didn’t show it. The new gelding—revealed by a rainstorm to be a singularly ugly yellow-brown color—put his head down and sniffed at the grass. A few feet away, Madoc approached the side of the mound, bowed, and then traced a pattern on the earthen side with his forefinger.
No gradual build-up of power followed. There was no real sense of magic at all, as Moiread was accustomed to sensing it. The wall of the mound glowed violet in the shape Madoc had drawn—a star with many rays—then violet altogether, and then vanished. In its place, a wide metal bridge gleamed under strange light, leading off into a formless mist.
Moiread crossed herself before she thought about it.
Either Madoc saw the gesture or he noticed the tension in her face, for he laid a hand on her booted calf as he came back to the horses. “Have no fear,” he said, and his voice made it clear that he thought no less of her for her uneasiness. “It’s safer than many a bridge in our world, though I was more suspicious than you the first time I crossed it.”
“Oh? You’ve been here before, have you?” She nudged Shadow forward as she spoke. Hesitation wouldn’t help. Talking might distract her somewhat from the bridge, the mist, and the fact that they were entering not only another kingdom but another world, where she had neither allies nor an escape route.
“Fostered,” he replied, “from ten to sixteen. And wintered here a few times after. The gate can open between Easter and Midsummer, and then between All Souls’ Night and Epiphany, so…” He smiled. “It made a good place for a restless young man.”
“I’d think,” said Moiread.
They rode out onto the bridge. The ringing of hooves on metal was like church bells. Moiread glanced behind them and saw only mist: no trace of the mound, the meadow, or the real world. She shivered and turned her gaze forward.
Only mist lay around them for a while. Only mist lay below them as well, and that did nothing to make Moiread more comfortable. She might possibly be able to transform mid-fall and fly away, and a hard landing wasn’t likely to kill her. Being able to transform, grab Madoc, and fly would be considerably harder. She told herself that a steel bridge was even less likely to fail than a stone one. She took heart in the good cheer she saw in Madoc’s face, and even in the whistling that might have otherwise irked her while she was in such a tense mood.
Halfway across the bridge, Moiread began to see shapes on the other side. They grew clearer as she rode—not as normal fog would disperse to reveal what hid within it, but rather as if the fog itself sorted, solidified, and became earth and sky, trees and rocks.
None were familiar. A cloudless sky the soft violet of summer twilight stretched overhead, but it was full of far more stars than Moiread would ever have expected to see before full darkness. They were closer than normal stars and brighter, and they shone in many colors. She looked up at them and sought a familiar constellation, but found none. Not even the moon appeared.
A broad silver-white road wound its way between rows of orderly trees. The trunks of those trees were also pale and glimmered like pearl, and their leaves were shades of blue and violet, like the grass that grew beneath them. As Moiread passed under the first of the trees, a slim body unwound from one of the branches, and a long face peered out at her. Then the creature snapped open a pair of dragonfly wings and fluttered off. She got only a passing glimpse of it: many-legged, with spotted fur.
“Carathin,” said Madoc, awash with nostalgic amusement. “Harmless, but a bit of a nuisance, like when you’re hunting. I tried to tame them a few times as a boy, but they never really took to it.”
The image of young Madoc patiently offering food to one of the little beasts was almost engaging enough to distract Moiread from her surroundings for a moment, and she couldn’t deny either its charm or theirs. “It’s a fair evening,” she said, and didn’t have to force her smile.
“Fair, but not evening. There’s no true day or night here. They don’t sleep as we do.” When Moiread didn’t bother to hide her dismay, Madoc chuckled. “Worry not. They’re generous to mortal needs.”
“Do they mark time at all?”
“Of a sort.” He gestured upward, to a cluster of three stars: one blue, two silver. “When that cluster moves all the way across the sky and back, it marks the end of one day and the beginning of the next. It was,” he added, “not easy to accustom myself, by any means, and not easy to go back when I did return.”
“Christ’s blood, I’d think so,” said Moiread, looking dizzily up at the sky again. “After six years of this?”
“Oh, I did visit my family once in a while. Nor do the people of this realm always stay here. There are rides, and hunts, and dances. Many of them are fond of our world and were willing to take a lad along if he proved himself quiet and useful.”
That raised another question, one Moiread had been wondering about for a little while. “Who exactly are they?”
“Tylwyth Teg, my people would call them. Among themselves, the word is Caduirathi, which either means ‘the people who craft’ or ‘the people who are formed.’ I’ve never quite been able to determine which.”
Around the next bend, a town came in view. It rose above the violet hilltops like the dawn sun, and Moiread fell silent in wonder when she saw it. The buildings were not many, nor were they large, but each was made of metal or colored glass, twisted into fluid spires and graceful domes. The largest, i
n the center, flashed blue and gold in the starlight, and softer lights shone back from what Moiread could only guess were its windows.
She could think of neither oath nor prayer to express the beauty of the sight. A poet might have done it—a very good one.
“Lirened,” said Madoc, sounding less surprised than she felt but almost as reverent. Then, more lightly, he added, “And our welcome. Fair wind to you, kinsmen, I hope.”
He looked up as he spoke, and Moiread followed his gaze to see six figures coming toward them from out of the sky.
All six were tall and slender, armored in shining mail that they looked to wear as lightly as cloth and carrying spears and shields. Their skin gleamed golden or silver, but their eyes and their tightly braided hair were as varied as the stars or the buildings, and so were the vast feathery wings that stretched out from each of their backs.
* * *
He saw Moiread’s eyes widen and knew something of what she must be feeling. Even with what Madoc had told her, even with her own experience to inform her, it was hard to look at the Caduirathi, especially the feathered ones, and not think angels. For Moiread to simply stand quiet and amazed spoke of both her self-control and her experience. On Madoc’s first meeting with them, with far more preparation, he’d sunk to one knee and prayed.
Thirty-odd years later, he saw several familiar faces in the troop and raised a hand in greeting, just as the leader, a warrior with sky-blue hair and eyes, smiled broadly. “Madoc? You come in company, brother. And you look as though the road has been a hard one indeed,” he added, eyeing Madoc’s clothes and horse both with friendly disdain.
“No, in truth it was easy. Only a few people sought my life. Haryin, this is Michael, my squire. Michael, this is Haryin, Captain of the Queen’s Borders.”
Moiread bowed as well as one could from horseback, and yet Madoc caught an uneasy expression crossing Haryin’s face. Even so, the Caduirathi smiled and bowed in return. “A guest of Madoc’s will always be welcome within our lands. We must remain on the borders for this next cycle, but pray ride on and find hospitality. You will still know the way,” he said to Madoc.
“Of course,” Madoc said, seeing the silent request. “But I would speak with you first, to make certain nothing’s changed. Rest here,” he added to Moiread, “while I take counsel.”
He could read her face clearly too. Dubious about the wisdom of his plan and ill at ease in this strange place, she nonetheless nodded and sat quietly as Haryin flew a short distance off and Madoc rode along.
Just out of earshot, Madoc asked, “What troubles you? I’d not bring distress to your land, yet I believed I was expected, and others have brought companions.”
“Oh yes,” said Haryin, and waved both of those objections aside with a slender hand. “I only find myself unsure what you know of your…squire, is it? For while her womanhood is no great matter, her other form—”
“Is a dragon,” said Madoc, laughing in relief. “No, it’s kind of you to worry, Haryin, but I knew before we ever ventured forth together. The illusion is for mortal men, though I’d no idea you’d see so clearly.”
“There are few things that can block our true sight here,” Haryin replied, and the invisible weight came off his shoulders. He flipped his wings, a sign of amusement. “I’ll tell Her Majesty of these matters, that she may not be as alarmed as I almost was…and that your friend may not suffer as a result.”
“My thanks,” said Madoc.
They rejoined the patrol, whose members were making slightly awkward, wary conversation with Moiread. At Haryin’s nod, they at least lost the wariness, and Moiread sent Madoc a questioning glance.
“There’ll be no hiding here,” he said. “I should have thought to tell you sooner, but I’d never seen illusion tried in this world. Forgive me,” he said, and then addressed the rest of the patrol. “My companion is Moiread MacAlasdair, and no squire.”
“Ah,” said Moiread, reaching for the pendant and twisting it so that the illusion fell away. “Well, I hope this revelation causes no trouble.”
“Curiosity, I should think,” said Haryin, “especially at court. Your lineage is not unknown to us, but it has been many long years since we met one of your blood. Long years for us, and that is long indeed!”
Twenty
They left the patrol behind them and followed the road toward the queen’s city. While Moiread tried to maintain a bodyguard’s calm alertness, she visibly stared to either side as they continued. Madoc watched her from time to time, seeing the land anew through her eyes and glad that he could show it to her.
For him, it was close to homecoming. He’d ridden out along this road many a time, and hunted through the forest as well. He recalled narrow paths leading to hidden lakes, broad meadows on distant hills, and long stretches of talking or singing or simply lying in the grass and watching the stars, for the queen had been an easy mistress in her way, and the land was gentle.
“No farms?” Moiread asked as they drew near to the city walls and passed nothing but more rows of trees.
“No, they grow no food that way. There are orchards in the city, and wild fruit or nuts in the forest. They get all their meat by hunting.”
“Must be great beasts about, or few of the…ah…”
“Caduirathi. And both are true. There are creatures in the deep forest bigger than any in our world, and the people are not many and rarely bear children.” He smiled in memory. “I think that, as much as any ties and politics, was why they welcomed their arrangement with my family.”
“Did you?” Moiread asked. “Ten’s not too young for a page, but there’s quite a step between your neighbor’s household and another world, is there no’?”
“I’d no objection when I was told. It all sounded like a great adventure, and so it was when I went away. The thought got me through more than one night that could have been bad otherwise,” he said, casting his memory far back. “But then, I might have been more homesick without the novelty of it to distract me. Very little here reminded me of what I’d left, and I can imagine that as much a blessing as otherwise. Were you sent away as a girl?”
“No. We don’t leave Loch Arach until we’ve mastered the shifting of form, not to mention our tempers…enough not to change when vexed,” Moiread added, rolling her eyes cheerfully at Madoc’s teasing glance. “And the first change usually comes about thirteen or fourteen. So my father and our men-at-arms trained us themselves. It’s an odd custom, but it’s well known that we’re an odd people.”
“Oh, and the world is full of such. Worlds, perhaps.” Madoc gestured to the landscape around them, violet and white, with the city’s golden gates drawing nearer. “The better for it, I’d say, and very dull else.”
Two more of the Caduirathi stood at the gates, these of the same feather-winged sort as Haryin and his patrol but in elaborate blue-and-gold lacquered armor and carrying slim golden swords. Both were more ornamental than the patrol’s equipment, but neither were entirely so. As with all their people, the gate guards looked slightly familiar to Madoc, but he couldn’t place them, nor they him. They stopped him and Moiread with upraised hands and tilted heads.
“Madoc Firanon,” he said, making his bow, “and companion. I’m expected.”
The pair nodded silently and moved aside, letting the gates swing smoothly open.
When they’d passed out of the guards’ earshot, Moiread asked, “What good are gates when everyone flies? Pretty things, I’ll grant you.”
“Not much in themselves. They’re only the visible part of the city’s defenses, and the key to the others. Any who attempted to fly over without leave would be badly surprised.” Madoc remembered the time when a sakhan had gotten too close, and the burns along its vast catlike body when he and Haryin and the others had gone to end its misery. “Yet it’s true that they’re less cautious here.”
“No war?”
“Nothing significant. Though I saw little of them, there are other places and other peoples, but all far from each other. It would take a grave insult or a dire threat to make the journey worth the fighting.”
She chuckled. “Were men to think that way, my brother Cathal would have had to stay home a century longer than he did, or at least to pick a foe closer than Jerusalem. I’m not sure how either of us would have liked that.”
“Ah, well,” Madoc said, “for those who need to depart for a time, there is travel. And there is always your world.”
“Aye, there’s that,” Moiread said and then fell silent, watching in wonder as they made their way down the city’s central street.
Madoc stayed quiet too, content to watch her and the city alike, to take joy both in the familiarity of homecoming and in the novelty of her presence. The two went together surprisingly well, he was finding.
* * *
The city was a wheel of color and light. Shining multicolored buildings rose graceful to either side, as bright and fascinating as they’d been from a distance. Up close, they showed polished doors of white wood, carved with flowers and beasts, and crescent-shaped windows without shutters. In between, the street was smooth indigo stone, wide and even and surprisingly clean. Shadow and the new gelding weren’t the only horses, but there weren’t many.
There weren’t many people, for that matter. Moiread saw Caduirathi on the streets as she rode, and going into or coming out of buildings, but there were perhaps five or ten for each block, far fewer than what she would have expected in a town of such a size. Indeed, there was more space between even the smallest buildings than would have been common elsewhere. Miniature forests often filled those gaps. Moiread also noticed hedged-in gardens and, once, a fountain of fire. The buildings rose upward rather than spreading out, but even so, most of their inhabitants stayed within, or each of them had a good deal of room.
Highland Dragon Rebel Page 13