By Slanderous Tongues

by Mercedes Lackey

  Elizabeth was just beginning to wonder if Thomas was growing too particular in his attentions when, one morning, he and Catherine burst into her chamber to catch her in bed before she woke. Denno was in bed with her. He often lay with her for a while when he brought her back to the mortal world, talking idly or drowsing if their lovemaking had been particularly energetic. It was a kind of bridge between one life and the other.

  Denno’s keen ears caught the footfalls coming across the parlor; he muttered the Don’t-see-me spell and disappeared. However, he could not hide the upheaval of the bedclothes as he left the bed. Elizabeth could only try to seem so startled as almost to convulse, shaking her arms and legs and lifting the bedclothes all around her body. She cried out, too, and tossed her head from side to side so that the pillows beside her place had a reason to be dented as well as her own.

  She was utterly terrified and must have looked it so that Catherine came well forward and assured her that all was well, that she and Tom had only wanted to surprise her. Realizing that Catherine and Thomas had no suspicion that Denno had been abed with her permitted Elizabeth to begin to laugh when they tickled her feet and threatened to pull the blankets off her. But she was really angry because she knew that the sweet bridge between mortal world and Underhill was lost. After the incident with the door being stuck, she could not use that device again. She and Denno would never again dare to share her bed.

  Elizabeth hoped that her reaction, which was certainly not all pleasure, would end any future playful invasions. But only a few days later, Thomas came to her chamber alone. Elizabeth leapt from her bed and fled behind the bedcurtains, calling her maidens to her. All of them hid behind the bedcurtains. They all laughed and Elizabeth pretended to do so, but she would not come out, no matter how long Thomas waited, calling out teasing threats.

  By then, Blanche had run out the back door and brought Kat, who was not amused. She waylaid Thomas in the gallery outside Elizabeth’s bedchamber and told him that what he was doing had already become a matter of unpleasant gossip and that he must stop or evil would be spoken about Elizabeth.

  Thomas defended himself, saying he meant no ill, but Kat was frightened; she had heard that married or not he had an eye for women. That was not so terrible, many men were like that, but Elizabeth was not “any girl.” Kat went to the queen and spoke her fears. Catherine only laughed at what she called Thomas’ antics, but she did promise Kat that she herself would come with Thomas in the future.

  So she did and the early morning visits tapered off and stopped. Elizabeth thought Thomas was annoyed; he cast some speaking glances at her. That was flattering too, but she replied to the invitation in his looks only with a smile.

  Currently Elizabeth had something far more interesting to think about and plan for. She had been invited to Court by her brother. She took part in no more romping games for she was too busy with her wardrobe and an embroidered handkerchief for Edward. She had heard that the usual New Year’s gifts were forbidden by the Protector, but she hoped to slip the handkerchief to her brother when no one was watching.

  She was very excited. It had been almost a year since she had last seen Edward—when they wept together over the news of their father’s death. In fact, she was so excited that she had forgotten entirely that it would be impossible for Denno to see her while she was at Court. That information came to her as a terrible shock one night. She had slipped out of bed and was waiting languidly for Denno to magic her clothing onto her; instead he snapped at her angrily.

  “Do you not care at all?”

  Elizabeth blinked. “Care? Care about what, love?”

  “That we will not see each other, touch each other, for weeks?”

  “What?” Elizabeth said stupidly. “Why? Why should we be parted? Are you angry with me?”

  “You are going to Court,” Denoriel said, staring at her.

  “Yes!” Elizabeth smiled brightly. “It will be so wonderful to see Edward. I know I will have to bow to him and I will not be able to hug him and be familiar as we were, but we will be able to talk about his lessons and mine and—”

  “And I am forbidden to go anywhere near your Court!” Denoriel interrupted.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth breathed. “Oh! I had forgotten that.” Her eyes were a muddy brown when she lifted them to him. “But when I was at Hampton Court with Catherine, we met in the maze or in the wilderness and when I rode out.”

  “Yes, and do you remember all the trouble you fell into when Lady Mary saw Harry in the garden? If we are seen …”

  “We will be more careful,” Elizabeth said, her voice tremulous. “You do not need to appear at all. I can get out and meet you somewhere and you can make a Gate and take me Underhill.” In the mortal world she could not have said the words Gate or Underhill, but in Llachar Lle she could.

  But now the black anger had faded from Denoriel’s face. He realized that Elizabeth was not indifferent to their parting, that she was so accustomed to his building a Gate wherever she was and taking her away that she had not thought about the dangers and difficulties of meeting in the overcrowded and gossip-ridden Court. His use of magic at Court could also call down Oberon’s wrath for greatly increasing the danger of exposing the existence of the Sidhe.

  He got out of bed himself and gestured their clothing onto their bodies. At that sign that her time Underhill was over, she did not know for how long, Elizabeth uttered a small cry of distress and reached out toward him. Denoriel took her hand and then drew her into his arms. He had been thinking that she was as shallow in her affection as the Sidhe, that she had used him while she was bored with her staid life with Catherine and now that a better amusement was offered would cast him aside.

  That was clearly not true. Her beautiful, long-fingered hands were fastened tight into his doublet, and her expression was full of distress. Denoriel regretted his abrupt disclosure now. He had been hurt and stupidly wanted to hurt her in return. Of a sudden he remembered that she was only fifteen years old; to salve his conscience he always thought of her as a woman. And in many ways she was fully adult—but now he realized she was still a child in the delight she took in Court life, which had simply wiped every other consideration out of her mind.

  “Careful cannot be enough, Elizabeth,” Denoriel said gently, unfastening her fingers from his doublet and kissing them. “The Court will be so overcrowded that I do not dare come into any chamber there. Blanche will not have a chamber of her own but be crammed in with many other maids, and likely you will not have your own dressing room but need to share with your maidens. Out of doors is impossible. It is December.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. “I do not care for that. All know I love to ride. I will say I do not mind the cold. Mayhap there will be warmer days. If you leave an air spirit with me, I can send it for you—”

  “Little love, that will not do. You are the king’s sister. If you say you want to ride, a party will form. Can you imagine what will be said of you if you deny them and say you want to ride alone?”

  “Then I will find some place where we can meet at night. I will … I will beg Elidir or Mechain to teach me a sleep spell. I will put sleep upon those in my chamber—”

  “Elizabeth! Do you think the corridors and antechambers are ever empty when the full Court is present? No, love, it would be a disaster if you are discovered creeping out alone. It would be far worse than when you were eleven years old. Even then Mary called you a whore. What would she call you now if you were seen creeping out in the middle of the night?”

  She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and desolate, but Denoriel felt relieved because she had obviously accepted that sneaking away at night would ruin her. Then she drew a sharp breath and smiled.

  “You are a merchant,” she said. “And everyone knows I have received beautiful cloth and furs from you. Surely I could come to your house or your place of business to look over what you have. I need a fine New Year’s gift for Catherine.”

  He smiled at her. �
�First of all, if you think you will be able to come alone, you are mad. Half the Court buys from me and will think I will give them special consideration if they come in your company. How do you propose to disappear from their midst? And secondly, you can come once, perhaps twice if I say I do not have what you request but will obtain it for you, but no more than that, Elizabeth.”

  “I know.” Her eyes were still dark and troubled. “But I miss you so much. I cannot bear to think of not seeing you, not speaking to you at all for so long.”

  Now Denoriel laughed. “It will not seem so long to you. You will be constantly engaged. But let me remind you that you should make time to talk with William Cecil. He is already the Protector’s secretary and might be able to do you much good. And give a good greeting to his wife, Mildred Coke, she was.”

  Elizabeth shook her head at him. “I do not need that reminder. I have not forgotten that Cecil has often sent me valuable news. And as far as Mildred … Do not be so silly. Mildred has been a good friend since I was with the group at Hampton Court. Of course I will greet her, and ask her to join me if she has no other company.”

  Denoriel sighed. “You will enjoy yourself so much, I hope you will not forget me entirely.”

  “Denno!” Elizabeth glanced significantly at the tumbled bed. “How many lovers do you think I have?” Then she sighed. “You were angry because you said I did not care, but now it seems that you do not care!”

  He stroked her hair. “I care,” he said, feeling his own heart sink again, for though the time they would be parted was not long by Sidhe standards, it would still be too long. “Trust me, my heart. I care.”

  Chapter 25

  There was no sign at all in the grounds or the empty house of the carnage and destruction Vidal’s minions had created. The guard at the Gate was even stronger and less subject to spells. The paths through the garden were again warded by force fields and were immaculate, totally free of any sign of the host that had burned there at Pasgen’s command. The house itself was shining and spotless; new constructs received and transmitted messages for Pasgen and Rhoslyn, new servants were ready to provide any comfort required, and a new set of guards and girls, stronger and more deadly than ever, was ready to protect the place.

  This Tuesday evening Rhoslyn had suggested to Llanelli that they dine at the empty house instead of at an inn in the Elves’ Faire. It seemed to Rhoslyn that Llanelli did not look as bright and vibrant since Vidal’s minions had destroyed the empty house and its constructs. She thought that if Llanelli saw that the empty house was returned to normal, she would be less uneasy.

  However, Llanelli had been less than pleased with the idea of returning there. Rhoslyn had assured her that there was no residue of the destruction, but Llanelli was still reluctant. “That the place has been cleaned and new servants installed is not the point,” she said to Rhoslyn. “It would be better to abandon that domain altogether and make a new empty house.”

  “But what of all your patients, who are accustomed to coming to that place for your healing?”

  “No more. Thank the Mother I had no patients coming to the empty house that day and that no one tried to see me without an appointment. The constructs in all my market booths tell any who ask for me I no longer treat patients there.” Llanelli shivered and then controlled the trembling.

  “I had no idea you had taken such a dislike to the place,” Rhoslyn said. “I wanted to abandon it myself. It has bad memories for me, although of course there is a new blue-ribbon Lliwglas now. But when I suggested that to Pasgen, he did not want to interfere with your work.”

  “I do not heal there any longer.”

  “Come and talk to him about it,” Rhoslyn urged. “He is going to meet me there, which is why I wanted you to come so you could join us for dinner.” Rhoslyn was a little surprised by the flash of fear she saw in her mother’s eyes, but it was gone in the next moment.

  “Pasgen will be there?” Llanelli asked.

  “Yes. I had a message to meet him there. And the empty house is convenient. As you know we have Gates that go there from all the markets. It is safe now, Mother. Pasgen … ah … spoke to Vidal after the attack and assured me that Vidal would never attack the place again. And indeed, there has been no trouble there.”

  “Pasgen should stay away from Vidal.” Llanelli’s voice trembled. “Pasgen is too sure of himself. He always thought he was stronger than Vidal … and suffered terribly for it. And you did, too. Burned and cut and bruised …”

  “Mother, that was only when we were children. Pasgen and I soon learned to shield ourselves.”

  Llanelli did not seem to hear her, her memory was fixed in a horrible past where she could not protect her children from their tormentor. “I tried to warn him,” she whispered. “But he would not listen.”

  “Pasgen is stronger now. Do not fear for him.” Rhoslyn was less sure than she sounded, but it seemed to her that Llanelli’s rich coloring was faded, her hands restless, betraying uneasiness, and she wished to reassure her.

  “So you say. You always thought Pasgen was near a god. Anyway it is not a matter of strength alone. Vidal is so sly, so clever … Pasgen doesn’t take Vidal seriously enough.” Llanelli bit her lip then drew a deep determined breath. “Very well,” she agreed. “I will come with you. Perhaps I can convince Pasgen to abandon that domain.”

  However, when she and Rhoslyn reached the empty house, Llanelli said that since she was there, she would gather up some supplies that she had left behind. Lliwglas could carry them to the lodging she had hired in the Elves’ Faire. Rhoslyn nodded and went in the main entrance as Llanelli walked around the corner of the house to go in through her own door.

  As she lifted her hand to wave the door open, Rhoslyn paused, her head cocked, listening intently. Had she heard a faint exclamation? The sound was not repeated, and after another moment, Rhoslyn went in. Lliwglas was there and would protect Llanelli from any harm.

  Then she forgot the sound she had heard. Pasgen was waiting, a delicate glass of pale wine in his hand, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Rhoslyn smiled. She had not seen her brother look so relaxed in a long time.

  “Well,” she said, sitting down in a chair at right angles to his, “you look comfortable.”

  “Wouldn’t Mother come with you?” he asked, setting the wine down on a small table that appeared at his elbow.

  Rhoslyn lifted a finger and a servant appeared. She pointed to the wine. In another moment a goblet like Pasgen’s appeared on a table beside her chair. She picked it up and sipped, shrugged her shoulders.

  “Yes, she did come, but not very willingly. You know, Pasgen, she still fears Vidal and I cannot convince her that you can protect her. No matter what I say, she still thinks of us as children, not strong enough to resist him. She wants you to destroy this domain and build a new one.”

  Pasgen frowned. “The trouble is, Rhoslyn, that in any domain I cannot protect her if she is so afraid of him. That is half his battle won for him, the fear of his victims.”

  “Think about some way to convince her. She is beginning to look worn again. She says she has given notice to all of her clients that she no longer heals at this house. She has chambers for healing at all three markets now and lodging at the Elves’ Faire. If she does not need this house any longer, maybe we should destroy it.”

  “No.” Pasgen’s voice was sharp, his expression hard. “It makes no sense to abandon this place. It is a lodestone for trouble.” His frown darkened. “Also, to destroy it would make Vidal feel that he had won, had driven us away.”

  “I suppose you are right about that.” Rhoslyn sighed and let herself slump into the cushions. Then she straightened, put down her goblet, and said in a determined voice, “I don’t care! I don’t care what Vidal thinks! Pasgen, I want to join the Bright Court.”

  She hesitated, expecting Pasgen to tell her again that she would be worse off trying to join the Seleighe Sidhe, but he only lifted his own wine and sipped at it,
then looked thoughtfully into the near-transparent liquid.

  Recalling Pasgen’s previous warnings, Rhoslyn continued, “I don’t care if most of the Seleighe Sidhe ignore me. I do have a few friends among them. I went to Oberon’s ball—”

  “Many Dark Court Sidhe go to Oberon’s ball. It is his purpose that the Seleighe and Unseleighe mingle in peace at the balls.” He put down the wine again.

  “Yes, and I admit I went shielded—oh, I have something important to tell you about that, but I want to finish about the ball first. But it did not matter that I was shielded. Harry FitzRoy saw me—you remember, the one I made the changeling for. He knew I was Dark Court, but he still asked me to dance. And Aleneil was there with a Sidhe called Ilar from Elfhame Cymry. Aleneil knew who I was too. They were all friendly. Even Denoriel was friendly and danced with me. He had brought Elizabeth.”

  Rhoslyn had got that all out very fast, expecting that Pasgen would tell her that Harry FitzRoy was a mortal and did not understand Sidhe protocols or that Aleneil and Denoriel were just conforming to the rules of the ball. However, he did not interrupt her or argue, only looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap.

  “Pasgen?” she said doubtfully.

  “I also have a friend … well, more than one friend, from the Bright Court,” Pasgen said in a low voice. “She—”

  “She!” Rhoslyn interrupted, putting down her wine and clasping her hands. “Oh, Pasgen, is there finally someone—”

  He laughed. “Gaenor is old enough to be my great, great, great, great—I do not know how many greats—granddam.”

  Perhaps there was a tinge of bitterness in the laugh, Rhoslyn thought, but there was also pleasure and amusement. Her heart leapt with hope. If Pasgen had found sympathetic friends among the Seleighe Sidhe, surely he would be willing to appeal for acceptance into the Bright Court.

  Her hopes rose higher as she heard Pasgen continue, “But she knows the mists and the Unformed lands as well or better than I.” He glanced at his sister sidelong, almost as if he were shy, and reached for his wine again. “She has taught me a thing or two—” he laughed and Rhoslyn saw that his usually pale cheeks had a flush of color “—or maybe three or four.” He turned and looked Rhoslyn in the eye. “She was once a very great maker. You would like her, Rhoslyn.”