And Less Than Kind Page 54

  Besides, as June passed into July the preoccupation of the Court turned away from the past rebellion toward future problems. At last Philip was coming to claim his bride. Compared to their concern with reaction of the public to the arrival of the Spanish prince, Elizabeth was a distant complication they could deal with in the future . . . or possibly Philip would deal with her and they would not bear the blame.

  As the date of Philip's arrival neared, Elizabeth began to hope she would be summoned to Court to meet Philip. Before she could begin to urge Bedingfield to allow her to write to the Council on that subject, she was dissuaded from even mentioning the idea. In the Inn of Kindly Laughter one Tuesday, Harry and Rhoslyn both cried out in protest at such a meeting.

  Elizabeth had been Underhill five nights out of seven during her so-called captivity at Woodstock. There was far less danger of discovery than there had been even in her own manors at Hatfield or Ashridge. Bedingfield never intruded on her after she was abed, as Kat had sometimes done, and Mary's spies had put themselves all together into her power by begging to sleep in her chamber. That permitted the use of one sleep spell to hold them all.

  On two different nights each week, Elizabeth slept in her own bed and did not bespell the women. That permitted them to wake naturally during the night and see her blamelessly asleep. It also gave Denoriel some rest—not so much from lovemaking as from the use of power in taking her through the Gate and twisting time to bring her back before dawn. Elizabeth was worried about the lack of power in the Bright Court, but there was nothing she could do to help them . . . except manage to stay alive until she inherited the throne from Mary.

  As they came through the Gate from Blanche's chamber to Logres, Elizabeth remembered her second night of freedom, when she was delightedly assuring Denoriel there was no danger Mary's spies would discover her absence.

  "They all begged to sleep in my room, so I bespelled them all together."

  "But why do they wish to sleep in your chamber?" Denoriel asked as he lifted her to Miralys's saddle.

  "They think they are foiling some plan I had to escape from Woodstock. Do not ask me why they think I would want to escape. Where would I go? What would I do? Lead another rebellion or flee to France to lead a French invasion?" Scorn dripped from her words. "Fools. Even were I so stupid as to involve myself in rebellion at all, it is far too soon after the last debacle."

  "A successful rebellion that set you on the throne could not come too soon for the Bright Court," Denoriel said, sighing as he dismounted at the wide portico of Llachar Lle and lifted her down.

  Elizabeth reached up to touch his face, aware again that he had not donned his "young" appearance. "Denno," she said, "is it too hard for you to come for me every night? Does it take too much power to open the Gate and bring me through? Perhaps—"

  "No, beloved, no," Denoriel said, crushing her against him. "There is little power involved in opening a Gate already built. It is just . . . We are all uneasy as well as starved for power. Titania is also gone so far as we can determine."

  "Where?" Elizabeth had whispered.

  Denoriel shook his head, and released her so that they could go inside. Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder, but Miralys had already disappeared. The elvensteed had looked and felt just as solid as usual, but where elvensteeds got their power was a total mystery to the Sidhe.

  Elizabeth's eyes widened as Denoriel warned her to stay close to him if they went to the market, not for fear of the mortal-stealing Sidhe, but of others of the Dark Court. The Bright Court had new problems connected to the lack of power. With the increasing strength of the Dark Court and the absence of Oberon and Titania, there had been sly invasions of Bright domains, a few actual armed clashes.

  Fortunately there were few Dark Sidhe and the knights of the Bright Court were far superior to any of the lesser creatures of the Dark, but there was less visiting and fewer parties and balls. The Bright Court was no longer so carefree and careless in its use of power.

  Each time she came Elizabeth looked anxiously at the magical palace before they passed through the human-sized portal near the great brass gates. She could see no change in Llachar Lle, and the chill of the recognition spell seemed the same as usual. Nor had the illusion that made Denoriel's door look like an opening into an open lawn with a manor house in the distance faded. It was perhaps flatter, not as vibrant, and there had been no change in it since Mary had come to the throne. Before that, Denoriel had added small details because he knew finding them amused Elizabeth.

  Denoriel noticed her anxiety and laughed at her. The Bright Court had seen hard times before, he assured her. Not in his lifetime, that was true, but in the past Oberon and Titania had left the Sidhe to look after themselves. There had been real pitched battles between Dark Court and Bright and the Dark had always been beaten back. It was some comfort to hear that, but Elizabeth still felt as if she should be doing something.

  Elizabeth had spent Monday night at Woodstock; tonight she would go Underhill. It was Tuesday, and although Denoriel put her up on Miralys they did not go to Llachar Lle. Without direction Miralys brought them to the great signposts just outside of the overhead, which to Elizabeth read Bazaar of the Bizarre. She did not smile as she passed the first warning.

  NO SPELLS, NO DRAWN WEAPONS, NO VIOLENCE on one line and below that ON PAIN OF PERMANENT REMOVAL.

  That was no joke and no false warning. Elizabeth knew of cases of permanent removal; it was not only permanent but no one, not even the most highly skilled FarSeers, had ever discovered to where the perpetrators had been REMOVED.

  The second sign, which Elizabeth read as CAVEAT EMPTOR but she knew appeared in Elven to Denoriel and any other language any who entered the market could read, did make her smile. It was as serious as the threat of REMOVAL, but the consequences, if the buyer was not sufficiently aware, were usually less drastic. It was said of the Bazaar of the Bizarre that everyone who came could find their heart's desire there but the cost to obtain it ensured utter disaster. Elizabeth could only be thankful that the crown of England was not on offer.

  Harry and Rhoslyn were already seated at the usual table in the Inn of Kindly Laughter talking to Aleneil and, somewhat to Elizabeth's surprise, Ilar. Pasgen and Hafwen were missing. Elizabeth rushed to embrace Aleneil.

  "I am so glad to see you," she said. "I miss my Lady Alana so much, even though, buried as I am in the depths of Oxfordshire, fine clothing is not necessary." She sighed. "If my ladies had a thought or two devoted to anything other than the correct rite with which to worship God perhaps I would miss you less." Two more chairs had appeared at the round table. Denoriel sat down next to Harry. "But," Elizabeth continued as she slid into the chair next to him, "I have had an idea about how to get back to Court. When Prince Philip comes, I will beg to meet him."

  "No!" Harry exclaimed.

  "No. No." Rhoslyn cried, reaching toward Elizabeth. "Oh, Lady Elizabeth you must not."

  Elizabeth blinked, then looked from one to the other. "But surely enough time has passed. All the prisoners from Wyatt's forces have been released, even his chief henchmen—"

  "It is nothing to do with the rebellion," Rhoslyn said earnestly, "but if Prince Philip should look on you with real favor, Mary would swiftly find a reason to have you dead. I swear, I think she would kill you with her own hands if necessary."

  "Elizabeth," Aleneil said, "remember how jealous she was when you were at Court together and all the young men found you so attractive. That was when she began to give Lady Margaret Douglas and the duchess of Suffolk precedence over you."

  "The queen has convinced herself that she is madly in love with Prince Philip," Rhoslyn said. "She goes ten times a day to look at his portrait. That some callow young men had a preference for you she could force herself to overlook; that Prince Philip should find you more to his taste than she would be a disaster."

  "And whatever lies she tells herself," Harry put in, "she has good reason to fear that Philip is not overjoyed
about the marriage. He has not written once to her in all the months of negotiations over the contract. He wrote to Renard, saying he was pleased by the proposal; he wrote to the Council, saying he was happy to accept the terms of the agreement; but not one word did he write to Mary herself."

  Elizabeth drew herself up with offended pride. Elizabeth did not like Mary, but an offense to her sister was an offense to Elizabeth on family terms.

  "You mean," she said in a voice that could have cooled the whole room, "that that Spanish codswollop still has not addressed my sister—"

  "No, no," Harry said hastily. "It was not meant as any personal insult. Philip has made himself hated in every country he has visited not by personal cruelty but by his utter ineptness in dealing with people. He wrote to Renard and the Council because there was business he had to do; he had to agree or disagree before they could move further in their negotiations. Since Mary was not involved, he did not feel it necessary to address her."

  "Not address his prospective bride?" Elizabeth's eyes were wide with disbelief. "You mean my sister is marrying an idiot?"

  "Not at all," Harry said. "Do not make that mistake. He is not at all perceptive about what people feel, but he is very clever about politics and how greed will buy compliance even from those who dislike him. I think it very unwise for you to meet him before everyone else has taken his measure . . . and offended him in some way. I will get information on what he likes and does not like and on whom he likes and dislikes. When you finally get to meet him, you will charm him so completely—and without any looks or words to which Mary could object—that he will protect you from her."

  Elizabeth sighed with resignation and remarked a little bitterly that if Rhoslyn and Da felt it needful, she would remain buried at Woodstock. Just then the kitsune server came to take their orders. He was much less interesting than the usual server, but less distracting too when there were serious matters to discus.

  Philip's arrival out of the way, Aleneil and Ilar reported while the meal arrived and they ate, that the hunt for the mortal-stealer had stalled. He had not managed to snatch anyone else, but that was because the mortals were being virtually imprisoned by their owners. No one was happy with the arrangement.

  Elizabeth promptly offered herself again as bait. Ilar smiled at her but shook his head. "As you know, my lady, Prince Idres Gawr is most grateful for your offer to help. However he feels as your half-brother and guardian do that you are too precious to the Sidhe as a whole to risk for the good of ordinary mortals, no matter how much beloved. In fact, I asked Aleneil to bring me specially to ask you to take extra care."

  Denoriel and Harry both came sharply erect and pushed away the remains of their meals.

  Ilar sighed. "What you said to Aleneil about Sidhe not being perfect is alas too true. We did our best to keep knowledge of your return Underhill a secret, but it is all over Cymry. And we have kept our mortals safe from him for several weeks." His voice shook slightly when he spoke again. "I fear it may be time that he must have another."

  "I will wear my shields," Elizabeth said calmly. "They are very good shields. I do not believe anything he can launch against me could penetrate them. Then too, I have some defenses of my own, and Denno will be with me."

  "Not in the market Elizabeth," Denno said. "The shields are fine, but no spells. Remember what the market does to spell-casters."

  "Yes," Harry said and then looked at Denoriel. "And for heaven's sake, do not draw your weapon."

  Denoriel grinned at Harry, but before he could speak, Ilar put in anxiously, "No, please. I mean even if you are not in the market, please do not kill the monster. If he has not . . ." He hesitated and when he spoke again his voice trembled. "If he has not used our people, we must be able to question him as to where they are hidden."

  Elizabeth nodded sympathetically. "I will only use Stickfoot or Bod oer geulo which will freeze him. Then Denno will be able to secure him and I will release the spell. No harm should be done him and you may have him to question. But what of the Dark Sidhe who built the Gate for him? Is there no way you could trap him?"

  Rhoslyn had been looking at Harry, but she turned her head suddenly and asked, "Have you asked Pasgen to examine the Gate? He can read things in Gates that no one else can find."

  "I would," Ilar sighed, "if we knew when or where a Gate would appear."

  "Of course," Rhoslyn said, blushing slightly. "How foolish of me. Like my mistress, my mind seems to be fixed on one subject. But for another reason. When Mary is married, I will ask for a long leave. I have been almost constantly in the mortal world for near two mortal years. I need to live Underhill for a time."

  "Speaking of living Underhill," Harry said, "Don't you need a domain, Rhoslyn?"

  "Yes, but with the power so thin in the Bright domains . . ." She hesitated, blushed again, and went on. "I . . . really it makes me sick to think of using Dark power. I can live in the empty house if I must, or Pasgen will guest me in Gorphwys Fwydd." She sighed slightly. "But it is all right angles and black and white."

  Harry had been chewing his lower lip gently while she spoke. Now he smiled and said, "Maybe you will not need to be a guest. Gaenor told me something interesting—and Pasgen was involved too, so he may be able to tell you more. Do you remember the Unformed land where the mist seemed almost intelligent?"

  "You mean the place that made the lion and the winged kitten for me and the two dolls, and hid me from Vidal?" Elizabeth asked eagerly. "You promised not to tell Oberon about it. Remember we thought the baby should be allowed to grow."

  Harry nodded. "I do remember, and it has not made anything dangerous or threatening, but it made a house."

  "A house?" Almost everyone echoed at once.

  "Gaenor was afraid that the house was an invitation to be swallowed up or something, but Pasgen went into it."

  Rhoslyn gasped. Harry shook his head at her.

  "It didn't do him any harm at all," Harry continued, "but the house was ill made, empty on the inside and crude and sagging."

  "It lacked power?" Rhoslyn asked.

  "No, at least Gaenor said nothing about power. She thinks the mist doesn't know how to make a proper house. It . . ." Now Harry hesitated as if he was not sure whether to go on or not, but finally he said, "It asked Pasgen for Elizabeth."

  "No," Denoriel said.

  "How?" Elizabeth asked, eyes suddenly bright gold.

  "Gaenor said Pasgen didn't know how, he just had a mental image of Elizabeth and knew the mist wanted her."

  Elizabeth stood up. Denoriel caught her hand; she squeezed his in response, but she was grinning as she looked at Rhoslyn. "Come, Rhoslyn, let us go now. I cannot spend enough time Underhill to teach the mist anything—at least anything more complicated than a kitten, but you are a maker. If you think at it, likely it will prefer you to me."

  Rhoslyn stared at Elizabeth. For a moment she was suspicious of what she thought of as generosity. Then she nearly laughed aloud. Elizabeth was mortal, not Sidhe. She was not being generous because she wanted no domain of her own . . . she would have all Logres when she was queen. For her, the Unformed land had been an idle amusement or a place of refuge. It was safe to trust her. She did not want to make that Unformed land her own.

  "Oh, imagine making in a place where the mist cooperated instead of fighting me," she sighed and started to get up.

  Harry seized her arm. "Rhoslyn!" he exclaimed. "Do not encourage that mad child of mine."

  "Can we not just look at the Unformed land and see what the mist has done?" Rhoslyn asked Harry. "I am sure I can control it. I have subdued quite inimical Chaos Lands, and you say no one has ever been hurt in this one."

  "I didn't say that at all," Harry protested. "It wrapped Vidal up in . . . well, in something, and kept him prisoner for years."

  "Yes, but Vidal had killed the red-haired doll," Elizabeth pointed out. "It never hurt anyone—actually it didn't even hurt Vidal—and it let Pasgen kill the lion instead of letting the lion hurt
him." She looked at Denoriel. "Please, Denno," she pleaded. "We can fetch Gaenor before we go and Pasgen too, if Rhoslyn knows where to reach him."

  To Denoriel, who had been watching Elizabeth while Ilar spoke and suspected that she was planning to try to play bait for the mortal-stealer, the responsive mist seemed a lesser danger. Unlike the Sidhe themselves, Elizabeth was not content to play games, play at love, and go from one ball to another. She had been coming Underhill for two months. She needed more challenging occupation.

  Moreover Elizabeth had been in the mist of that Unformed land alone several times and it had never harmed her; indeed it seemed as if it tried to help. Denoriel did not completely trust Rhoslyn, but he was reasonably sure that she would do nothing treacherous while Harry was there. And Gaenor knew that mist. Denoriel sighed, smiled, and stood up.

  "Very well," he said. "Let us collect Gaenor and Pasgen if we can find him, and look at that Unformed land."