Thirteen

“I wanted to wish you a good journey, my lord.”

Little Seonag’s appearance from an alcove near her father’s chambers had been more sudden than Madoc had expected of her, and her actions in meeting him more forthright, but she made him a ladylike curtsy as she spoke, and both words and voice were carefully polite. The propriety of her manner made her actions the more unexpected by contrast, and Madoc could but blink at her at first.

“Thank you,” he replied. “And I’m guessing you wished to ask me a question or two while you did, isn’t that so?”

For a girl so young and well versed in etiquette, the first step must have taken considerable courage. Madoc saw no need to make the next ones any more difficult for the child. Indeed, the relief on her face was a reward in itself.

“The ceremony, the vows… You know, do ye no’, that my lord father would never be able to call on those in any way but the ordinary?” She glanced at the closed door down the hall behind them. “He’s a worthy man, you understand, and he has many other concerns, so…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“I know,” said Madoc, “and I agree. No man can do everything. The arts he’s learned have kept your land safe and prosperous for these many years, and I admire him for that. Will you come with me a while, my lady? We can speak on the way.”

He offered his arm, and she took it with gravity.

“My brother is much the same,” Seonag went on, “and my lady mother is not familiar with any of this. And I think that someone ought to know, particularly now. Father Parlan says it might not be a bad thing, if I take care and keep God’s will above everything I learn.”

“He seems a wise man.”

“Only, my great-aunt died before she could teach me much, and she was never very skilled at writing. She left a few notes, but nothing like what you did.” Her small face looked up at Madoc in the dim hallway, with every inch of her gaze full of earnest determination. “I don’t know how to aid you, if you need it, and I don’t know how I would call on your people, if we have need. I pray neither ever comes to pass, but if they do, I want to know how.”

“Of course,” he said. “To lend us aid magically… That you don’t need to worry about. By the way you speak, am I right in thinking you don’t know how to draw power from the land?”

“No… How would I? What does it do?”

“That depends on the spell you cast. There are those who use the power of their land for oracles, or cast spells with it every year to make for a better harvest or the like, but those are complicated works, the sort that take years to construct. Mostly, if you’re fighting another sorcerer, and you’re of the right bloodline, you can use the land’s strength as well as your own. It may also give you physical strength, if you need it.”

“Oh. Could I learn to do that?”

“Yes,” said Madoc, “but it would take more time than we have, and more than we would have had if you had asked me the moment I arrived. If your father would permit further instruction, I might be able to find you a tutor for a season or two. If this peace lasts that long.”

“Oh, it must!” Seonag said with a smile of pure optimism. “We’ve won so many battles, and the English signed a treaty. The war must be over now.”

Madoc couldn’t match her smile, but he patted her hand where it lay on his arm. “I hope so. Now, until you have more training, as I said, you need not fear me calling on your family’s power. Were you to try to use the same power at the same time, or shortly after, you might find it drained, like a well in the summertime, but it would come back the same way. You’d need do nothing, nor even know.”

She nodded, flaxen braids swinging against the shoulders of her pink gown. “And once I’m trained?”

“Then you’ll know how the land fares, and how to put strength into it if you have need. You’ll get the sense of it without much instruction once you’ve learned the basics, or at least I did. The spells themselves are trickier, but once you know the other world, it reveals itself to you as much as you learn about it. I think you’d do well, if your father allows.”

They came out into the great hall, with servants around them sweeping the rushes and cleaning the tables, doing the day’s work to make ready for the night’s meal once more. Seonag slipped her hand from Madoc’s arm and curtsied again. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “God be with you on your journey. And…and with your squire as well.” Her face went nearly as pink as her gown.

“Thank you,” said Madoc, “and I’m sure he’ll be glad as well. In truth, he needs any divine aid he can get, for his mind’s mostly on a lady back home.”

There, disappointment on the childish face, but no sign of either surprise or hurt. A heart already given elsewhere was no slight, not even the minor one of youth. This way, she’d have no cause to hope, but no cause to think badly of herself either. “Well, I wish him happiness, my lord,” she said, with a polite smile. “And you as well.”

Madoc made her a courtly bow and departed for the yard. As he went, he thought how odd it was to be rejecting young women on Moiread’s behalf, doubly so when his lips still felt the heat of hers against them and he could easily call the stifled noises of her desire to his ears.

The rest of the journey promised to be extremely interesting.

* * *

Moiread paced slowly around the pen, not impatient but wishing to stretch her legs out as much as she could before taking to the saddle once again. She kept a careful eye on the horses, who stood more or less patiently, pages holding their reins.

“Will you cross the border after this?” Clyde asked, walking up to her side.

“Aye. We’ll have to pass through England to get my lord home, after all, and he’d as soon not risk the sea.” No need to mention the stop they were making, or that their hosts wouldn’t truly be English at all.

“Some might say there’s no’ much less risk going by land.”

“Some might,” Moiread said and tried for a joke. “But they’d not be the seasick kind, would they? Green isn’t my lord’s best color. Besides, there’s a treaty now, isn’t there?”

“There is,” said Clyde, frowning. “But there’s men as don’t need a war to make devils of themselves, lad, and there’s bound to be plenty among the English who take the treaty ill. Grant was bad enough after victory.”

“Not so bad as that,” Moiread said.

“Oh, I’ll not deny you’re a bonny fighter, and I’m sure you’re as good with a sword as you were with your fists. But Grant was one man. He’s a soldier too, without any more power than what he has in a fight or what the Calhoun gives him, which wasna’ a great deal. If you come across a local lord or a sheriff with a similar spirit, it could go hard for you.”

Moiread paused and looked down into the lined face, saw the genuine worry there, and wondered whose face came to his mind when he looked at her: a younger brother, a son, or simply a comrade of prior days? Whoever it was, she would have laid odds that the young man hadn’t survived long past the age she appeared to be.

Had they been just off the battlefield late at night, or companions in a dingy tavern with worse ale, she might have asked and known the question welcome. Men talked of their pasts at such times. They honored memories. Now there was neither time nor drink nor privacy, and questions on such a subject would be cruelty.

She asked a different one. “How would you advise me, then?”

“Only be careful,” Clyde said with a resigned shrug. “Keep your temper about you and your sword in its scabbard, if you can. And I’d say talk no more than needful either. You speak more like an Englishman than I do—meaning no offense—but there are few English who’d mistake you for their own once you open your mouth, I’d say.”

“And I’m glad of it,” Moiread said with a quick smile, “but I take your meaning. Enemy land, so give them no cause to start anything.”

“That’s it exactly. And be on your guard in case they try regardless. I hope your lord knows what he’s about, lad. I truly do.”

“Between the two of us, so do I,” said Moiread.

When she heard more footsteps, she didn’t have to turn around. Although their time together had been brief, her senses were enough keener than mortals’ that she could now recognize Madoc from a combination of his pace and his scent. The latter, so soon after they’d kissed, stirred sensations low in her body, and she shifted her weight restlessly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For a while now, my lord,” she said, playing the cheerfully cheeky squire. “Clyde, it’s been a pleasure. Farewell.”

“Take care, lad,” he said.

Mounted, she and Madoc rode out of the castellum and down the road, into a day hazy with clouds but otherwise pleasant. The sounds and smells of human habitation fell quickly behind them, leaving them alone in the middle of the empty road.

“I told Seonag,” Madoc said, “that you were pining away for a girl in my lands. I hope you don’t mind.”

Moiread smiled. “Best thing for her, I’d think. And no, I don’t mind the rumor, and it’s not as if I’m likely to be ‘Michael’ again there.” She looked at him across the gap between their horses. “You’re not seasick, by any chance, are you?”

“Not at all. I’ve always been a good sailor.”

Madoc sounded proud of it too. Damn.

“Well,” said Moiread, “if you come back here and the subject arises, I suppose you can always say there was a reason you cast me off.”