“As I have told you, that gesture and the use
of my crystal globe were all the magic Cerra had time to teach me
before she died.”
“Let me demonstrate the next step in your
education.” Spreading his arms wide, Hugh pointed his staff at
Mirielle. Suddenly, where Hugh had been standing there was only a
blur. A quick movement of the air and Hugh was back again.
“You can make yourself invisible!” Mirielle
cried. “Master Hugh, what a remarkable achievement. Wherever did
you learn it?”
“From one of my Saracen teachers,” Hugh said.
“Because the illusion requires so much of a practitioner’s vital
energy it lasts for only a short time and it can affect only a few
people at once. You will have to concentrate all of your thoughts
if you are to copy what I have just done.”
“You expect me to—no Master Hugh, I am sure I
cannot! I am only an herbal healer, with but one magical gesture in
my learning. Besides, I have no staff.”
“My child,” Hugh told her, “you require no
instrument to work your magic. It was born in you. I can see it, as
I think your beloved Cerra must have seen it. That is why she
planned to teach you all she knew of the Ancient Art.”
“But I have never before tried to work such
strong magic,” Mirielle objected.
“Do as I have done. Spread your arms,” Hugh
instructed. “Make the gesture. And believe. You must be absolutely
certain in your own heart that no one will be able to see you.”
Mirielle told herself that if Cerra had
believed that she could learn the Ancient Art, and if so great a
mage as Hugh had faith in her, then she could do what Hugh was
asking of her. The ability to make herself appear to vanish might
be Giles’s only hope of escape. She had to try. She had to believe
that she would succeed.
Willing herself to disappear from Hugh’s
vision, she spread her arms as he had done and used her left hand
to make a gesture similar to the one he had made with his staff. At
once she felt a tingling in her fingertips and a sensation in her
hair similar to the crackling that happened when she brushed it
vigorously on a cold, dry winter’s morning. She was aware of no
other change, but when she lowered her arms a few moments later,
Hugh smiled at her.
“Excellent,” he said. “Together, we can
rescue Giles.”
“And then you must leave. Forever.” Mirielle
thought of all she would be denied by their going, of the binding
together of two hearts that might have been but that could not
happen in Giles’s absence and of the learning that Hugh might have
imparted to her, for what she had just learned represented only a
portion of his vast knowledge. Her voice broke. “I will not see you
again.”
“Dear child,” Hugh said, “you are still too
young to know that even the saddest farewells are not final.”
“You must not return!” she cried. “It will
mean your lives if you do. And, Master Hugh, I know enough of magic
to believe it will mean your soul if that creature of the shadows
should win over you.”
“When Giles and I have gone,” Hugh said, “the
dark mage may withdraw, thinking he has won. For your sake, I hope
it will be so. I wish you could leave with us, Mirielle, but you
are meant to remain here, at Wroxley. It is your destiny.”
At least Mauger wasn’t on duty. There was
another watchman at the main gate and he was up on the battlements.
With the drawbridge up for the night, the gate closed and barred,
and sentries posted on the walls, the men below in the gatehouse
felt themselves free to relax. They were playing a game with dice.
No one looked up as Mirielle, using the disguise Hugh had taught
her, slipped by the men and started down the stairs to the
dungeon.
She was frightened and she was still somewhat
unsure of the magic Hugh claimed she held in her natural
possession. But she was not going to leave Giles to Alda’s whims or
to the merciless shadows that Hugh had recognized. Whether it cost
her life or her newly stirring magical abilities or even her soul,
she was determined to set Giles free.
The dungeon was located directly below the
main entrance to the castle. Because of their closeness to the deep
moat, the gatehouse walls at this level glistened with dampness. A
single torch burned outside the bolted dungeon door. Mirielle went
to the door and slid back the bolt. She had to pull hard to make
the heavy door open. Giles was chained against the wall, his wrists
and ankles in shackles.
“Who is it?” he whispered. “Mauger? No, not
Mauger. Hugh? Let me see you.”
“It is not Hugh. It is Mirielle.” She let her
disguise slip then, being still too inexperienced to hold the
illusion of invisibility in place while she proceeded to the next
part of her mission.
“You should not be here,” Giles protested,
straining against the shackles.
“Hugh sent me to you. We have a plan.”
Mirielle drew nearer to him. She saw by the torchlight beaming
through the doorway that someone had hit him several times. There
were bruises around his mouth and beneath one eye.
“Captain Oliver never allowed you to be
beaten,” she muttered.
“He did not. It was Mauger who did it.”
“Mauger? I thought he would be confined to
his own quarters. Captain Oliver is angry with him.”
“I know nothing about that,” Giles said, “but
Mauger must have a key to the dungeon, because he came into this
cell to see me. He seemed to enjoy our visit rather more than I
did, which is why, when you first opened the door, I thought he had
come back. Then I saw the light and realized it was you.
“Mirielle, I cannot think why Hugh let you
come here and I wish you would go. If you are discovered with me
there is no telling what might happen to you before Captain Oliver
could come to your aid.”
“Nothing will happen to me. I have Hugh’s
promise on that. Just hold still and let me work.” Mirielle took
from the ring on her belt the oblong metal object that Hugh had
given to her. Following Hugh’s directions she inserted it into the
locks on the bands at Giles’s wrists and twisted it.
“Now I begin to understand. Hugh has given
you his wonderful key that will open any lock.” Giles chuckled. “I
have seen it before, on several occasions. Was it your idea or
Hugh’s to hide it in plain sight among all the ordinary keys you
carry with you every day?”
“The idea was mine. There, your hands are
free.” She rubbed at his wrists. “Those shackles were so
tight.”
“They are not meant for comfort. Wait, it
will save time if I do that.” Brushing aside her hands, Giles
massaged his own arms and flexed his fingers. “If you will unlock
these fetters so I can move my feet, then I will be able to defend
you—and myself—if we are discovered.”
Kneeling in the damp, moldy straw that
covered the dungeon floor, Mirielle unfastened the metal bands,
releasing his feet. With his hands usable again, Giles applied
himself to one ankle and foot, while Mirielle worked on the other
until he could walk across the cell and back without
discomfort.
“Where is Hugh?” Giles asked.
“He is attending to your horses.” Mirielle
straightened, ready to move on to the next task. She was puzzled
when she first saw Giles closing the shackles over empty air. Then
she smiled, understanding his purpose. “The guards will think you
have escaped by magic.”
“So I hope.” He answered her smile with his
own. “What next, Mirielle?”
“I am to let you out the postern gate,” she
said. “You will have to swim the moat, but Hugh wanted me to tell
you that he will have dry clothes awaiting you. He will be in the
forest, just beyond the village.”‘
“I suggest we leave this dungeon at once,”
Giles said. “You can give me the rest of Hugh’s directions as we
make our way to the postern gate.”
“The directions I give you are mine,” she
informed him. “I know the landscape around the castle well, because
I often roam over it looking for herbs. However, you are right
about leaving the dungeon as soon as possible.
“Giles, you must stay directly behind or
beside me,” Mirielle went on as they looked out the door to be sure
no one was about before they left the cell. Giles closed and bolted
the door on the cell to give the appearance that he was still
inside.
“That ought to confuse the guards and delay a
search for me,” he said. “Now, Mirielle, it is time for you to work
your magic.”
“Hugh showed me several times how to do
this,” she said, “but I warn you, I lack his great experience.”
“Hugh once told me that you have powers of
which you are unaware,” Giles murmured. “If he instructed you, then
I am certain of your ability.”
“According to Hugh, that is the most
important aspect of using any kind of magic,” Mirielle said. “You
must believe in it. There can be no doubt at all, or the magic will
not work.”
“I do believe in you. And I trust you
completely.”
She had not realized how close he was, but
they had been whispering and their heads had gradually moved nearer
so they could hear each other. Giles’s lips were at her ear. His
warm breath stirred a lock of her hair that had worked loose from
its braid. She turned her head a little and his mouth was almost on
hers. Giles drew a sharp breath.
“My lady,” he whispered, “your sweet presence
makes this rank dungeon seem like a bower filled with roses, but if
we are caught here, it will become our tomb. I would far rather
live without you than have you die with me. Show me to the gate I
am to use and then I’ll take my leave of you. I would not keep you
in danger any longer than I must.”
Mirielle raised her arms and made the gesture
Hugh had taught her. To her surprise Giles put an arm around her
waist so she was close against his side.
“Once, during our journey to England, Hugh
and I escaped from a similar difficult situation by leaving
arm-in-arm,” he said in explanation.
She was glad of his touch. It steadied her
and gave her the courage she needed. They moved as one out of the
dungeon and up the stairs, taking the same route by which Mirielle
had come. The men-at-arms were still playing at dice. One of them
looked up as Mirielle and Giles passed. The man squinted as if he
thought he saw something but could not make out what it was. With a
shake of his head the man picked up a wine cup and drained it, then
went back to the game.
“Hugh has told me,” Giles whispered, “that
the disguise is not perfect, that the air seems to vibrate and to
blur where the unseen person is.”
“I noticed that effect when Hugh demonstrated
his skill to me,” Mirielle replied. “Giles, the wicket gate is the
closest one but we cannot use it, because these men would hear it
opening and know some mischief is afoot. Since we are not under
siege there will only be a single guard who passes the postern gate
each hour as he makes his rounds. That is the way you will leave,
when the guard is far from the gate.”
In fact, there were two postern gates at
Wroxley. One had been built into the wall near the tower keep in
case the lord of the castle and his family should have to flee
during an attack. The other gate was located in the outer bailey
and was intended for defending forces to use for secret, armed
sallies against a besieging army. It was to this postern gate that
Mirielle led Giles.
Leaving the gatehouse they hastened across
the bailey. At this late hour there were few people about but all
the same, Mirielle kept the cloak of disguise around herself and
Giles. It took all of her strength and concentration to do so and
by the time they reached the door she sought, her step was
faltering. It was Giles who took the key from her girdle and opened
the door to a room set in an outward projection of the main castle
wall. In this room the men-at-arms gathered for their final orders
before striking at besiegers. Here, lengths of boards nailed
together in sections were kept, ready to be dragged out and linked
together to span the moat so the men-at-arms did not have to swim
as Giles would do.
With a sense of relief, Mirielle let her
disguise slip away. Quickly she took yet another key and used it to
unlock the outer door and swing it open. At the same time, Giles
pulled the door to the bailey shut. Now they were alone, visible
only to someone standing in a direct line of sight across the
moat.
Mirielle stood looking out at the water. The
light of a full moon flooded into the room, so she could see Giles
clearly when he came to stand beside her while they exchanged keys,
Mirielle returning the one Hugh had entrusted to her.
“I wish you did not have to take your leave
on such a bright night,” she said. “You must use extra caution not
to be seen.”
“I wish I did not have to leave at all.” His
arm was about her waist again. Mirielle leaned against him, her
heart beating slowly and painfully. Only a few more moments and he
would be gone.
“You are rightfully an enchantress,” Giles
murmured. “Since first I saw you, I have not ceased to think of
you, and now I cannot bear to part from you.” Pulling her closer,
he lowered his head.
His mouth was as Mirielle remembered, a rich,
warm delight on hers. Opening her lips she drank him in, the
warmth, the taste and the manly scent of him. She reveled in the
length of his strong body against hers. His hair was thick and soft
when she wound her fingers through it. His mouth on her eyes, her
cheeks and throat, and then on her lips again, brought her to the
trembling brink of total abandon. She had never known desire for a
man before Giles had come into her life, but she had recognized it
at once and she understood now how it could make an ordinary life
beautiful—or entice and destroy those who gave way to it at the
wrong time.
“We must stop. Please, Giles.” Tears of
regret filled her eyes. She did not want to stop. She wanted the
most intimate embrace of all. She felt the languid heat flowing
through her veins, urging her to hold him more closely, to keep him
with her.