Home From the Sea: An Elemental Masters Novel Page 33

  If Gethin and hoped to make her look worse in the eyes of the clan with her answer, he had achieved the very opposite. But he had to abide by the will of the rest; with a growl, he stood up, as did she, though her knees were stiff with sitting. One of the Selch took the stools away.

  “The last Trial is Love,” Gethin said with a smirk. “As you claim you love your man and children so very much, would you know them among a thousand?”

  “Yes!” she said instantly. And knew at that moment that he had tricked her.

  “Come, then.” He stalked out into the mist, and she followed him. The rest of the Selch followed the both of them.

  Now what have I gotten myself into?

  She discovered soon enough.

  19

  THE mist blew away from in front of her, and she found herself facing a seal-beach.

  As far as she could see, there were seals, cows, bulls, and pups, all stretched out on the sand. She had never in her life seen so many seals; seals sleeping, seals watching her and Gethin, grooming themselves and each other, seals tending their pups, seals doing anything that seals could do except plunging into the surf and swimming off. All of them stayed on the beach, quite as if she didn’t matter at all.

  “So you would know them among a thousand?” Gethin asked. “Find them.”

  For a moment she struggled with rage. She wanted to seize a rock and beat the smirk off his face. She wanted to strangle him. How was she going to be able to pick out her babies among all these seal pups? Idwal, she could manage—she had been with him as a seal so many times she knew every detail of him in that shape, something Gethin was probably not aware of. But the babies? They had no birthmarks, and she had no idea what they would look like as seals!

  That blackguard! She thought with rage. Oh, I hope he loses his skin! I hope no woman will ever go with him again! I hope he loses the thing he cares most for in all of the world!

  If she found Idwal first, could he help her?

  “Don’t think to get your man to help you,” Gethin said in a snide tone of voice, quite as if he had read her mind. “This is your task and yours alone.”

  Could she use her Water Magic? But how? She couldn’t think, she felt tears rising up to choke her, and she wanted to throw herself into the ocean in despair…

  Yes, whispered the magic. Yes! The ocean!

  The call of the magic held her rigid with shock for a moment. Did the magic actually want her dead?

  Then she remembered. Idwal had somehow imprinted the magic here with the will to help her! So, there was something about the ocean that would give her the key to finding Idwal and Aled and Aneirin among all those seals and pups.

  The ocean…

  What if she were another seal?

  True, she didn’t have her borrowed skin. Nevertheless, she was Selch blood herself, and had she grown up here, she would have a skin of her own. And she had just transformed herself into how many shapes here, when chasing Idwal? If she could do that—

  I can be a seal. I don’t even need the skin that Idwal found for me; I can change into a seal without it—in fact, since I am part of Selch-blood, I can probably become a seal easier than any other shape. And seal-mothers know their own babies, among a thousand…

  She ran for the ocean, remembering how Idwal had coaxed her into changing the first time. She remembered what it had been like to be a seal, willing herself into the sleek shape, feeling fur instead of skin, a snout instead of a nose, a tail, not legs, and fins, not hands. And she reached the edge of the surf, and plunged under the waves.

  And came up, snorting water and shaking her sleek, dark head. She raised her nose to the breeze, trusting her body to tell her what she needed, as she had trusted the wisdom in the skin Idwal had brought her to tell her what to do.

  She scented it then. A faint, faint thread that said mine! My blood! My bone! Fed by my body! My own!

  She scrambled ashore and followed that thread of scent. From time to time she stopped, and called, and waited. There was no answer at first. But the scent grew stronger, and she shoved her way among the other cows and pups, sniffing, calling, sniffing, calling—

  And then she heard it. The little bawls that pulled on her heart and sent her onward, deeper into the herd. The scent grew stronger too, making her teats ache with the need to feed her babies, until she was shuffling as fast as ever a seal could move on land, and then found herself scrambling over the rocks and sand in human-shape, with the scent still as strong as ever in her nostrils, and the babies still answering her call, until she found them, and caught them up in her arms, and the moment she touched them, they shivered all over with magic and became human babies again.

  She heard a howl of rage behind her, and turned to see Gethin being restrained by several of the clan, as Rhodri picked his way among the seals toward her. He held out his arms.

  “Trust me with the pups, Mari,” he said, almost tenderly. “I know it is only a mere formality, but find your mate.”

  And it was a mere formality; with her babies found and safe, it was no great difficulty to walk among the bulls and follow her heart straight to Idwal. She knew him without seeing the little wrinkles around his eyes, the scar that a fight had gotten him on his shoulder, and the one where he had gashed himself on sharp rock as a youngster. She went straight to him, and laid her hand on him, and called the magic to her and poured it into him.

  With an explosion of joy, the magic burst the bonds that Gethin had put on him and he stood before her and caught her up in his arms as if he would never let her go again.

  The coracle was waiting, floating in the shallows, surrounded by mist. The babies were cradled in Mari’s sealskin in the bottom of it, and Idwal and Rhodri waited to pull the little boat back to the world she knew. Her kin were gathered on the beach to see to it that Gethin did not work some treachery at the last minute—they had made that much clear, to her, and to him.

  Gethin was still chieftain… but it was looking as if he would not be chieftain for much longer. The things he had said when she claimed her rights over Idwal and the babies had made a great many even of his supporters turn against him

  “It is in my right to close the bounds of our land to you,” he snarled at Idwal. “And so I will. Be off with you, and if you regret your choice, know that you only have yourself and that bitch you chose over your clan to blame for your exile.”

  And at that moment, Idwal gathered himself up and stood toe-to-toe with Gethin, looking quite as if he was prepared to fight. “I am going home, home from the sea, with my wife,” he declared. “To my home, with my wife, and my children, who are as much kin to this whole clan as you are, and more!”

  Gethin started to raise his hand against Idwal. “Then we will close the door against you! The compact is broken and the Bargain is over! And see how you fare without the Prothero luck!”

  Mari stalked up to the both of them, and spat at his feet. “Do so! And we will find another way! Being dependent on those with no gratitude is like getting a herring that is all bone! Away with you! And may you have joy of the bed you have made for yourself! I hope it is cold and lonely, for no woman will want a man who is so mean of spirit!”

  Gethin roared with anger, and suddenly there was a clap of thunder and a flash of light, and the two of them found themselves sitting in the coracle in the middle of the open ocean.

  The ocean was clear of mist and thankfully as smooth as a mirror. No longer were they under unmoving stars; instead, the sun was high in the sky above them.

  A seal surfaced beside them and barked merrily. Dazed, Mari recognized Rhodri, and tossed him the rope. He caught it in his teeth, and plunged ahead, and with a jerk, the coracle started moving.

  Mari looked at Idwal troubled. “Can he do that?” she asked. “Can he keep you from coming back?”

  Idwal laughed, easing her heart. “For no more than seven years, and if he is no longer chieftain, not after that. I do not think that the world will grow so hard to me that I can
not wait seven years.”

  Comforted, she leaned back in his arms as the little round boat moved surely and easily over the sea, toward home.

  Mari worked industriously at mending a net, as her father carefully fastened his precious glass floats to another, and Idwal carved a teething-ring from a bit of whale-tusk. Nan and Sarah had told them they had been gone for two days, and that the constable had been looking for them each day, getting angrier all the time.

  “It was wonderful!” Nan had said, her face full of glee. “When he dragged Daffyd to his little prison, as it happened, there wasn’t anyone about. I think he might have chosen when everyone was in at supper on purpose, just in case people objected, but he out-foxed himself if that was his intention, because no one in Clogwyn knew he had Daffyd locked up. So when he came to his senses and started shouting about Daffyd escaping, and the ghosts, and noises—”

  Mari had laughed until her sides hurt, and nearly did herself a mischief sending the tea she had been drinking up her nose. “They must have thought he had run mad!”

  Sarah had nodded. “They certainly did. Well and truly mad. It was the worse for him because there was no stream of water running through his cottage, there were already so many water-marks on the walls from the old leaks that no one could tell there were new ones, and no one had heard anything in the night thanks to Puck. So he came storming down here, looking for Daffyd and Mari, and found the place empty.”

  “Puck was hiding us, of course,” Nan had continued. “And when we thought he might get up to no good in the cottage, we came down the beach. We told him you all had gone off to visit relatives. He wanted to know who, and we pretended we hadn’t paid any attention, and when he got nasty, Puck turned up as the dog and ran him off!” Nan described how Puck had harried the constable all the way to the road and they all had laughed until they could scarcely breathe.

  The girls had heard that he was going all the way to Cardiff to speak with his superiors, and the lot of them had concocted a plot.

  Quite honestly, after their ordeals, all three of them had decided that they deserved a holiday, so Daffyd had left off fishing for a few days and they spent their time resting, eating, mending things, gathering cockles, mussels, and clams from tide pools, and in Mari’s case, learning to cook things she had never tried before, since Nan and Sarah went down to Criccieth and brought back some lovely foodstuffs. Rhodri had turned up with a ketch, a little sailing boat with a laid-on keel, big enough to take several people, and was happy to ferry them about. Where he got it, he wouldn’t say, but Mari had to wonder if he’d stolen it from the other side, just to tweak Gethin’s nose. They didn’t lack for their usual fish either, even though Daffyd didn’t go out; once the sun was down and they were sure Constable Ewynnog was not going to turn up, Idwal would put on his sealskin and go out, bringing back a fine salmon or some other choice fish. On the first day of their holiday, Daffyd had gone over to Clogwyn to gossip about the pretended visit, let people know they were on a brief holiday, and accept congratulations on the two new grandchildren. He returned laden with currant buns, some fresh vegetables, and good wishes.

  And now, at last, when Mari looked up and saw the unusual procession of three carts on the road near the shore, she knew that the constable had returned—with reinforcements.

  “The fool didn’t even go to Clogwyn first,” Daffyd snorted, looking up when he saw her staring at the road. “Oh, he’s going to get exactly what he deserves.” Mari smiled; her mild-mannered da was all but rubbing his hands with glee. “Idwal, let’s you and me go in the house. I want to do this proper.”

  The men went in; Mari remained where she was, mending the net in the sun, with a baby nicely cradled in a basket on either side of her, a towel over the top of the basket to keep off the sun.

  It took Constable Ewynnog and his procession a good long time to make it to the cottage, and he was not in the least aided by the mischievous Elementals of both Water and Earth that were doing their level best to interfere every step of the way. Finally he got to the cottage and marched up to Mari—who did not get up—chest puffed out with importance. “Mari Prothero?” he asked, as if he did not know.

  “Drever,” she said, shortly, and rudely.

  She took him by surprise. Small wonder, since she had never been anything other than shy and possibly dull-witted around him. “Eh—what?” he stumbled.

  “Mari Drever,” she corrected. “Mrs. Mari Drever. As well you should know, Constable Ewynnog, since you sat in chapel and glared at me through all three Sundays of the banns.” She put down the net, stood up, and planted both her hands on her hips. “And if you have come here to insinuate that my baby boys are bastards, I’ll be giving the back of my hand to you, constable or no constable!”

  One of the little train of fellow police officers that had accompanied him snickered. The constable turned dark red. “Mari Drever then, I am here to summon you to answer for the disappearance of Idwal Drever and your… two…”

  And his voice trailed off, as one of the twins, roused from his happy nap, complained loudly about the rude fellow who was standing almost over him and shouting—and a moment later, his brother joined in the complaint.

  “Mari?” Idwal called from inside. “In God’s own name, what is all the noise about?” He opened the cottage door and came out onto the doorstep, drying his hands on a towel. “I think the laver-bread is ready—” Then he pretended to see the convocation of constables in the dooryard for the first time. “Who are you all, and what are you doing, frightening my sons and pestering my wife?”

  Constable Ewynnog gaped at him, mouth working like a fish trying to breathe air. The other constables exchanged glances.

  “You!” Idwal said, with a fierce frown, pointing at Ewynnog. “I know you! You are that interfering old maid who sat through my banns, scribbling notes as if you thought you were learning something! A fine piece of work that was, and in chapel too!”

  “But—but—but—” Ewynnog sputtered. “You were missing! You were dead!”

  Now Mari and Idwal looked at him as if he had sprouted tentacles. “When?” Mari asked, finally.

  “But I found you here, the babies were gone, you were crying, and—”

  “You must have fallen and struck your head; that is the most daft thing I have ever heard anyone say,” said Mari crossly, and went over to Idwal, who put his arm around her shoulders. “I never was.”

  “But I arrested your father! I had him in my cell!” Ewynnog was spluttering now, and the other constables were moving, not at all surreptitiously, away from him.

  “You what now?” Daffyd looked around from behind Idwal. “I don’t think so. Mari and Idwal and I took the babies up north to Stromness to meet their kin. His half-brother Rhodri came to fetch us in his ketch—look, there’s Rhodri now.” He pointed out to sea, and right on his cue, as alerted by Idwal via one of the Elementals, Rhodri sailed into view in his conventionally hulled fishing boat quite big enough to carry half a dozen. “He brought us back a couple days ago.”

  “Is that so, sir?” asked one of the other constables politely.

  “You can ask him yourself; he’s anchoring his craft now, he’ll be ashore in a bit.” Daffyd looked with pity on Ewynnog, who was going red and white by turns, and seemed quite unable to utter a single coherent word now, much less a sentence. He turned back to the constable that had addressed him. “You know, I don’t like to repeat gossip,” he said in a confiding tone, “But Blue Ruin has been the downfall of many a stout fellow. And if people will send a man out alone to find something that can’t be found, and keep putting him under terrible strain when he can’t find it, you can’t blame the poor fellow for—” And Daffyd made a loose fist and put his thumb to his mouth and tipped back his head as if he was drinking from a bottle.

  The other constable nodded wisely. Obviously, he couldn’t say anything without impugning Ewynnog, and by extension, the rest of the constabulary service. But what he did say was, “I am very
sorry that we wasted your time, Mister Prothero. There was obviously a grave misunderstanding.”

  “Quite all right,” Daffyd said grandly. “No harm done. We’ll just go and have our tea.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the constable, pulling on the brim of his helmet. Then he turned to Ewynnog. “Come along, lad,” he said in a condescending voice. “It’s clear you were mistaken. Let’s just get all this sorted out now, shall we?”

  “But they—but I—but—” Ewynnog said weakly, as they surrounded him and more or less herded him back to the carts. “But—but—but—”

  Mari heard a peal of hysterical laughter at her feet. She looked down to see the malicious little Water Elemental contorted into a knot of hilarity.

  “You know,” Daffyd said meditatively, watching the carts drive off again. “That was almost worth getting arrested over.”

  “I have to say,” Mari said, looking at the fish pie, a pie in which half a dozen herring heads were staring up at her from the crust, “This thing is kind of… uncanny.”

  “I promise, and I swear to you,” Nan replied, looking up from where she was playing with the babies on the floor, “That is exactly how they make it in Cornwall.”

  “When you said they called it ‘stargazey pie,’ I was thinking it was going to look… well, not like this.” She shoved it in the oven. “I hope it tastes better than it looks.”

  “It does,” Sarah assured her, and laughed at Grey, who was playing peek-a-boo with Aled by flipping a cloth over his face, then whisking it off. The baby found this hilarious. “But I warn you, the Cornish say that the reason that the devil never comes there is because he is afraid a Cornish housewife will make him into a pie. I don’t think there is a thing in the world that the Cornish haven’t tried to stuff into a crust.”