Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (70 page)

He blew, and the grass whistle emitted a soft tone. "Now then: you must make just such a whistle with your own fingers."

Madouc started to make the whistle, then, troubled by a thought which had been working at the back of her mind, paused. She asked: "What do you mean when you speak of 'our little account'?"

The wefkin made a flickering flourish of long-fingered hands. "Nothing of large significance: in the main, just a way of speaking."

Madouc dubiously continued her work. She paused again. "It is well known that fairies never give without taking. Is the same true of wefkins?"

"Bah! In large transactions, this might be the case. Wefkins are not an avaricious folk."

Madouc thought to detect evasiveness. "Tell me, then, how I must pay for your advice?"

The wefkin pulled at the flaps of his cap and tittered as if in embarrassment. "I will accept nothing of consequence. Neither silver nor gold, nor yet precious stuffs. I am happy to oblige someone so quick and pretty. If only for the joys of gratitude you may kiss the end of my nose, and that will settle our account. Is it agreed?"

Madouc looked askance at the wefkin and his long pointed nose, while the wefkin made foolish and inconsequential little gestures. Madouc said: "I will take the matter under advisement. I seldom kiss strangers; on their noses or elsewhere."

The wefkin scowled and jerked his knees up under his chin. After a moment he resumed his bland demeanour. "You are unlike your mother in this regard. Well, no matter. I only thought to-but again, no matter. Have you made your grass flute? Well done. Blow softly, with kind expression-ah! That is good. Stop now, and listen to my instruction. To summon your mother you must blow into the flute and sing in this wise:

'Lirra lissa larra lass

Madouc has made a flute of grass.

Softly blowing, wild and free

She calls to Twisk at Thripsey Shee.

Lirra lissa larra leer

A daughter calls her mother dear!

Tread the wind and vault the mere;

Span the sky and meet me here.

So sing I, Madouc.'

Madouc, after a diffident rehearsal, took a deep breath to settle her nerves, then blew a soft note on the grass flute and spoke the cantrap.

Nothing seemed to occur. Madouc looked here and there, then spoke to the wefkin. "Did I pronounce the charm correctly?"

A soft voice responded from behind the foxglove foliage: "You spoke the charm in good rendition." Twisk the fairy damsel came forward: a supple creature with a casual fluff of pale blue hair bound with a rope of sapphires.

Madouc called out in awe and rapture: "Are you truly my mother?"

"First things first," said Twisk. "How did you agree to pay Zocco for his services?"

"He wanted me to kiss his nose. I told him that I would take advice on the matter."

"Quite right!" declared Zocco the wefkin. "In due course I will vouchsafe the correct advice, and that will be the end of it. We need discuss the subject no further."

"Since I am her mother, I will provide the advice, and spare you the effort," said Twisk.

"No effort for me! I am deft and alert in my thinking!"

Twisk paid no heed. "Madouc, this is my advice: pick up yonder clod of dirt, and tender it to that popeyed little imp, speaking these words: 'Zocco, with this token I both imburse and reimburse you, in full fee and total account, now and then, anon and forever, in this world and all others, and in every other conceivable respect, for each and every service you have performed for me or in my behalf, real or imaginary, to the limits of time, in all directions.'"

"Sheer rigmarole and tommyrot!" scoffed Zocco. "Madouc, pay no heed to this foolish blue-haired wiffet; you and I have our own arrangements, as you know."

Twisk came slowly forward, and Madouc was able to see her clearly: a lovely creature with skin the color of cream, features of surpassing delicacy. Her eyes, like those of Madouc, were wonderful dreaming sky-blue pools, in which a susceptible man might easily lose his wits. Twisk spoke to Madouc: "I will remark, as a matter of casual interest, that Zocco is notorious for his lewd conduct. If you kissed his nose you would be compelled into his service, and soon would be kissing him elsewhere, at his orders, and who knows what else?"

"This is unthinkable!" declared Madouc aghast. "Zocco seemed so affable and courteous!"

"That is the usual trick."

Madouc turned to Zocco. "I have now taken advisement." She picked up the clod of dirt. "Instead of kissing your nose, I tender you this token of my gratitude." She spoke the disclaimer which Twisk had contrived for her use, despite Zocco's squeaks and groans of protest.

With a pettish motion Zocco cast the clod of dirt aside. "Such tokens are useless! I cannot eat them; they are flavorless! I cannot wear them; they lack style, and they provide no amusement whatever!"

Twisk said: "Silence, Zocco; your complaints are crass."

"In addition to the token," said Madouc with dignity, "and despite your horrifying plans, I extend you my thanks, in that you have united me with my mother, and no doubt Twisk feels the same gratitude."

"What!" said Twisk. "I had long put your existence out of my mind. Why, may I ask, did you call me?"

Madouc's jaw dropped. "I wanted to know my mother! I thought all the time she was dead."

Twisk gave an indulgent laugh. "The error is absurd. I am surcharged with vivacity, of all kinds!"

"So I see! I regret the mistake, but I was given false information."

"Just so. You must learn to be more skeptical. But now you know the truth and I will be returning to Thripsey Shee!"

"Not yet!" cried Madouc. "I am your beloved daughter, and you have only just met me! Also, I need your help!"

Twisk sighed. "Is it not always the way? What then do you want of me?"

"I am lost in the forest! Two murderers killed Pymfyd and stole my horse Tyfer. They chased me and caused me a great fright; they wanted to kill me as well; also they called me a 'scrawny red-headed whelp'!"

Twisk stared in shock and disapproval. "You meekly stood by and allowed these insults?"

"By no means! I ran away as fast as possible and hid."

"You should have brought them a waft of hornets! Or shortened their legs so that their feet adjoined their buttocks! Or transformed them into hedgehogs!"

Madouc gave an embarrassed laugh. "I don't know how to do these things."

Twisk sighed once more. "I have neglected your education; I cannot deny it. Well, no time like the present, and we shall make a start at this instant." She took Madouc's hands in her own. "What do you feel?"

"A quiver came over me-a sensation most strange!" wisk nodded and stood back. "Now then: hold your thumb and finger thus. Whisper 'Fwip' and jerk your chin toward what ever nuisance you wish to abate. You may practice on Zocco."

Madouc pressed thumb and finger together. "Like this?"

"Just so."

"And: 'Fwip'?"

"Correct."

"And jerk my chin-like this?"

Zocco uttered a screech and jumped four feet from the ground, twirling his feet rapidly in mid-air. "Hai hai kiyah!" called Zocco. "Put me down!"

"You have worked the spell correctly," said Twisk. "See how he twirls his feet, as if dancing? The spell is known as the 'Tinkle-toe Imp-spring'."

Madouc allowed thumb and finger to separate and Zocco returned to the ground, seagreen eyes bulging from his head. "Hold hard on that mischief, and at once!"

Madouc spoke contritely. "Excuse me, Zocco! I think that I jerked my chin a bit too hard."

"That was my own thought," said Twisk. "Try again, using less force."

On this occasion Zocco jumped less than three feet into the air, and his outcries were considerably less shrill.

"Well done!" said Twisk. "You have a natural bent for such work!"

"It has come too late," gloomed Madouc. "Poor Pymfyd lies dead in the ditch, and all through my insistence upon the Flauhamet fair!"

Twisk made an airy gesture. "Did you strike Pymfyd dead?"

"No, Mother."

"Then you need feel no remorse."

Madouc's distress was not fully relieved. "All very well, but Ossip and Sammikin who struck the blows feel no remorse either! They beat poor Pymfyd till the blood gushed; then they chased me and stole Tyfer. I have met you and I am overjoyed for this reason, but at the same time I grieve for Pymfyd and Tyfer."

Zocco chuckled. "Just like a female, singing both bass and falsetto with the same breath!"

Twisk turned Zocco a glance of mild inquiry. "Zocco, did you speak?"

Zocco licked his lips. "An idle thought, no more."

"Since you lack occupation, perhaps you will look into the vexations which Madouc has described."

Zocco said peevishly: "I see no reason to oblige either you or your unappealing brat of a daughter."

"The choice is yours," said Twisk graciously. She spoke to to Madouc: "Wefkins are unimaginative. Zocco, for instance, envisions a future of blissful ease, with never a pang of discomfort.

Right or wrong?"

"He is wrong indeed."

Zocco jumped to his feet. "I find that I have a few moments to spare. It will do no harm to take a cursory look around the landscape, and perhaps make an adjustment or two."

Twisk nodded. "Please report your findings on the instant!" Zocco was gone. Twisk examined Madouc from head to toe. "This is an interesting occasion. As I mentioned, I had almost forgotten your existence."

Madouc spoke stiffly: "It was not very nice of you to give me away, your own darling little child, and take another in my place."

"Yes and no," said Twisk. "You were not as darling as you might like to think; indeed, you were something of a rippet. Dhrun was golden-haired and sweet-natured; he gurgled and laughed, while you screamed and kicked. It was a relief to be rid of you."

Madouc held her tongue; reproaches, clearly, would serve no useful purpose. She spoke with dignity: "I hope that I have given you reason to change your opinion."

"You might have turned out worse. I seem to have gifted you with a certain queer intelligence, and perhaps an inkling of my own extravagant beauty, though your hair is a frowst."

"That is because I have been running through the woods in terror and hiding under a rotten log. If you like, you may give me a magic comb, which will order my hair at a touch."

"A good idea," said Twisk. "You will find it under your pillow when you return to Sarris."

Madouc's mouth dropped. "Am I to return to Sarris?"

"Where else?" asked Twisk, somewhat tartly.

"We could live together in a pretty little castle of our own, perhaps beside the sea."

"That would not be practical. You are quite suitably housed at Sarris. But remember: no one must learn of our meeting - King Casmir, in particular!"

"Why so? Though I had no intention of telling him."

"It is a complicated story. He knows that you are a changeling, but, try as he might, he has never been able to identify Suldrun's true child. Were he to know-and he would force the truth from you-he would send out assassins, and Dhrun would soon be dead."

Madouc grimaced. "Why should he do such a terrible deed?"

"Because of a prediction in regard to Suldrun's first-born son, which causes him anxiety. Only the priest Umphred knows the secret and he hugs it close, at least for the moment. Now then, Madouc, while this has been an interesting occasion-"

"Not yet! There is still much to talk about! Will we meet again soon?"

Twisk gave an indifferent shrug. "I live in a constant flux; I am unable to make fixed plans."

"I am not sure whether I live in a flux or not," said Madouc. "I know only that Devonet and Chiodys call me 'bastard' and insist that I lack all pedigree."

"In a formal sense, they are correct, if somewhat rude."

Madouc spoke wistfully: "I suspected as much. Still, I would like to know the name of my father and all the particulars of his personality and condition."

Twisk laughed. "You pose a conundrum I cannot even begin to solve."

Madouc spoke in shock: "You cannot remember his name?"

''No.

"Nor his rank? Nor his race? Nor his appearance?"

"The episode occurred long ago. I cannot recall every trifling incident of my life."

"Still, since he was my father, he was surely a gentleman of rank, with a very long and fine pedigree."

"I remember no such individual."

"It seems, then, that I cannot even claim to be a bastard of high degree!"

Twisk had become bored with the subject. "Make whatever claim you like; no one can disprove you, not even I! In any case, bastard or not, you are still reckoned to be Princess Madouc of Lyonesse! This is an enviable estate!"

From the corner of her eye Madouc glimpsed a flicker of green and blue. "Zocco has returned."

Zocco reported his findings. "Neither corpse nor cadaver made itself known, and I adjudged the issue to be moot. Proceeding eastward along Old Street, I discovered two rogues on horseback. Fat Sammikin sat high on a tall bay like the hump on a camel. Ossip Longshanks bestrode a dappled pony, with his feet dragging the ground."

"Alas, poor Tyfer!" mourned Madouc.

Twisk asked: "And how did you resolve the case?"

"The horses are tethered in the paddock. The rogues are running across Lanklyn Down pursued by bears."

"Sammikin perhaps should have been transformed into a toad and Ossip into a salamander," said Twisk. "I would also have verified Pymfyd's death more carefully, if only that I might observe the prodigy of a walking corpse."

Madouc suggested: "Perhaps he is not dead?"

"That, of course, is possible," said Twisk.

Zocco grumbled: "If he wanted to be thought dead, he should have remained in place."

"Quite so," said Twisk. "Now you may go your way. In the future try no more sly tricks upon my innocent young daughter."

Zocco grumbled: "She is young, but I doubt if she is all so innocent. Still, I will now bid you farewell." Zocco seemed to fall backward off the stone and was gone.

"Zocco is not a bad sort, as wefkins go," said Twisk. "Now then, time presses. It has been a pleasure to meet you after so many years, but-"