The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf (13 page)

Remembering that Roger had been rescued by a woodcutter, Lynet turned toward the sound. She was just about to call out a greeting when she heard a stirring in the bushes behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with three large wolves, sitting on their haunches, watching her.

Slowly she stepped backwards, glancing quickly
around her for some possible weapon, even though she knew in her heart that a lone girl had no chance against three wolves, even a lone girl with a stick. "Shoo!" she said sternly. "Go away!"

The wolves rose to their feet and began to spread out around her. Panicking, she turned and ran wildly through the forest. She heard no following footsteps, but a low growl just behind her indicated the wolves' presence. She knew it was insane to run, but she couldn't stop herself. She burst out of the trees just as one of the wolves pounced. Its forepaws knocked her sprawling into the dirt and pine needles, and she heard a sharp snap as its teeth just missed her ear. Then there was a shout, and the wolves backed away.

Lynet scrambled to a sitting position and looked around. She was in a clearing beside a tiny hut. All around were neat stacks of cut wood. A man with the wildest brown beard that she had ever seen was racing toward her, holding an axe. She shrank away from him, but he ran past her, whispering "Be still," as he went by. He threw himself at the wolves and began laying about him with the axe. The axe flickered like lightning, quicker even than Beaumains's sword, and a wolf lay dead at his feet. Another wolf leaped at him, and the axe flashed again, sinking deep into the wolf's breast. The woodcutter wheeled sharply to face the third wolf, but it lay dead in the dust, an arrow in its heart.

Dazed and disoriented, Lynet looked around the tiny clearing. Behind her and to her right she saw a slender figure lower a longbow. It was Squire Terence. He walked toward her. "Are you hurt, Lady Lynet?" She shook her head, and Terence turned toward the woodsman.

"You are very prompt, sir," the squire said.

"It is nothing," the woodcutter said abruptly. His voice was cultured and even had a trace of a foreign accent. He wiped his axe clean on a dead wolf's fur.

"Thank you, friend," Lynet said to the woodcutter, still dazed. "You saved my life."

"It is nothing," he repeated. He did not look at either of them. When Terence retrieved his arrow from the wolf's carcass, the bearded man turned his face away. "It is not good for a lady to be alone in the forest," he said. "You must go home now."

"I will," Lynet said softly, gathering her wits. "But how can I repay you? I am twice in your debt. You not only saved my life now, but I believe you also saved the life of my friend, Roger the dwarf."

The woodcutter acknowledged the incident with a curt nod, but again he said only, "It is nothing."

"No, it is much. You must let me give you my gratitude. May I know your name?"

The man looked at the ground and said, "I am Jean le Forestier."

Squire Terence smiled suddenly, then bowed deeply.
"I am honored to meet you, Jean le Forestier. I wish you happiness in your new life here." The man looked sharply, searchingly, at Terence, and the squire added, "I will leave you in peace here and say nothing to anyone."

"
Merci,
" whispered Jean.

Terence turned back to Lynet. "Come, my lady. I will take you home now."

Lynet took Terence's outstretched hand and stood. "I must thank you as well, Squire Terence, for you killed one of the wolves."

Terence grinned. "Yes, but I didn't need to." He glanced over his shoulder at Jean le Forestier, who was going into the tiny hut. "If I'd recognized M'sieu Jean before, I'd have let him handle it himself."

"You know him?"

"Yes, my lady. Come this way."

Terence led Lynet into the woods, following a path that only he seemed to see. Lynet stifled the impulse to ask who the woodcutter really was, but she did say, "I take it that he is more than just a woodcutter."

"No one is just a woodcutter," replied Terence. "A person's always more than his present occupation."

"Like you, for instance," Lynet said drily. "You are more than a squire."

"Oh, yes," Terence replied pleasantly.

"I knew the first time I saw you, back at Camelot, that you were more than you seemed." Terence did
not answer, and Lynet pressed on. "Roger calls you uncanny and says that you're from the Other World."

"Your friend Roger knows about the Other World, does he? Very interesting fellow, this Roger." Terence flashed Lynet a grin. "You might say that he's more than he seems, as well."

Terence was right. Lynet would have to think more about that when she had time, but now she had other questions. "How did you just happen to be nearby when the wolves attacked, anyway?"

"Nothing very amazing. I've been following you all afternoon. As M'sieu Jean said, it really isn't safe for a lady alone in the forest. And remember, Lady Eileen asked me to keep an eye on you."

"But I never heard a sound!" Lynet exclaimed. Terence only shrugged, and Lynet shook her head. "Roger's right. You
are
uncanny."

They walked on in silence for several minutes as the forest darkened around them. A soft, continuous sound came to Lynet's attention, and it grew louder as they walked. A moment later they stepped out of the woods onto the bank of a small river. A smooth curtain of water flowed over a long flat rock, forming a waterfall about five feet high.

"Where are we?" Lynet asked. "I've never seen this before."

"I know. Come, Lady Lynet. We have to go through the water."

"I thought you said you were taking me back to the Castle," Lynet protested.

"Oh no," Terence said amiably. "I said I would take you home. This way." He pointed straight at the waterfall and held out his hand. Lynet hesitated only a second, then took his hand and walked with him into the cool water. They waded into the shallow river, then walked right through the curtain of falling water, where the mouth of a cave lay concealed behind the translucent falls. Lynet's heart pounded, but with excitement, not fear. Stooping, Terence led her into the opening, then stood in a wide, dry cavern. A torch on the wall lit the room. Lynet brushed her wet hair out of her face and looked around. On the walls were curious inscriptions and carved likenesses of animals. "Just down this passageway," Terence said. "Morgan's waiting."

"Morgan?"

"Morgan Le Fay, Gawain's aunt. I've asked her to show you some of her arts."

"What arts?" Lynet asked, confused.

"She's a sorceress." Lynet gasped, and Terence quickly added, "Don't worry. Not all sorceresses are bad. There are many who do great good. I hope that you will be that sort."

"Me? A sorceress?"

Terence nodded. "Whether you like it or not," he said gently. "Here we are."

They stepped around a black rock into a large cavern. There, in the orange glow of several torches and one large fire, stood the most beautiful woman Lynet had ever seen. The woman scowled. "At last! I've been waiting this two hours and more!" Terence smiled, but didn't answer. The woman looked at Lynet. "This is the one?"

"As you see, my lady," replied Terence.

"Hmm. Yes, I can see it now that I look at her. But I'll wager she doesn't know much."

"Why then, I'm glad that I chose for her a patient teacher," replied Terence. It seemed odd to Lynet, but the soft-spoken squire at her side seemed to be rebuking this majestic woman.

The lady pursed her lips, then curtsied elaborately. "I understand you, your grace. We're in your dominion now, so I'll be good. But allow me to say that I like you better back in the World of Men, serving drinks in Gawain's chambers."

Terence laughed quietly. "I don't doubt it," he said.

"
Back
in the World of Men?" asked Lynet faintly.

"You're in the Other World now, my lady," Terence replied. "I'll leave you now. Don't let Lady Morgan frighten you. She's not as fierce as she pretends to be." And then Terence slipped away down a passageway.

Lynet could not have told how long she spent in that cavern with Morgan Le Fay. Without the sun and
moon to mark the days, time seemed unimportant. At first, Lynet had been hesitant before Morgan's awe-inspiring presence, but it was not in Lynet's nature to be timorous for long. Besides, Lynet soon learned that Terence was right: beneath Morgan's grand facade, she was capable of warm feelings and even generosity toward those she liked, and it soon became clear to Lynet that
she
was one of that select few.

Much of their time together, Morgan simply told stories. She told of faeries and spells, of strange creatures, of men and women who traveled easily between worlds and who were consequently considered wizards and magicians. "Remember that, Lynet," Morgan said. "What is called magic in the World of Men is called that only because it does not belong there. Powers and actions that are miraculous in that place are perfectly normal here."

"You mean in this world it's normal to turn people into toads or whatever it is sorceresses do?"

"The toad trick is a bit childish, but no, it would not be considered odd here." Morgan smiled suddenly. "Do you want to change someone into a toad?"

Lynet thought briefly, with a flash of pleasure, about how her sister would look as a toad, but she shook her head. "I suppose not," she said.

"If you don't care for toads, we have other spells. Rats? Pigeons? Dragons? Dwarfs? You'll be learning all these spells soon."

"You can change a person into a dwarf?" Lynet asked, surprised.

"I've never done it myself, but it's in the books. All this will come in time."

Lynet shook her head wonderingly and said nothing.

Gradually Lynet came to realize that Morgan's stories all had their reasons, though she was not able to put every story's lesson into words. She said as much to Morgan, and the enchantress nodded briefly. "In this world, almost everything is taught with stories. Much more to the point than the sort of silliness that passes for education in that other place, don't you think?"

Many of Morgan's stories were about sorceresses, beginning with the first enchantress of all, the faery queen Lilith. Lynet listened with awe to tales of cruel, grasping witches and to others about kindly magical princesses. Once she exclaimed, "But I always thought that sorceresses were evil!"

"What do you mean, 'evil'?"

Lynet had never considered the question. "You know," she said, after a moment, "unfriendly to people."

"People!" repeated Morgan derisively. "As if humans were all that mattered. Just once I'd like to see people judged by how friendly they are to sorceresses."

Lynet could not help smiling, but she said, "But we do judge people by how they treat animals and servants and those that are weaker than they. So why not judge sorceresses by how they treat people?"

Morgan frowned and looked sourly at Lynet. At last she said, "Let's not forget which of us is the teacher, dear. Back to your question—no, not all sorceresses are, as you say, unfriendly to people. But the strongest ones are."

"Why is that?"

"The enchantress who cares for no one cannot be touched by grief or worry or fear. Nothing reduces a sorceress's power so much as love."

"Do you love anyone?" Lynet asked.

Morgan's brow furrowed very slightly, then smoothed. "We are not discussing me. Do you?"

Lynet thought of Beaumains's handsome profile and felt her own brow furrow. She and Morgan were silent together for a long time.

Sometimes they would grow weary of tales. Then they would gradually grow quiet, then lapse together into a comfortable slumber on the soft dirt floor of the cavern. When they awoke, they would resume their conversation wherever they had left off, as if they had never slept.

At last, Morgan said, "I think I've done. You will never stop learning, but I've taught you what you must know, and I've never had so apt a pupil. You will never be an enchantress like me, of course." Lynet
raised her eyebrows, a bit indignant, but Morgan added, "I don't mean that you'll be lesser, only different. You like humans too much."

"Well, I
am
one, you see," Lynet said apologetically.

"Are you?"

"Well, of course I ... what do you mean?"

"Your father was Duke Idres, was he not?" Lynet nodded, waiting. "He was well known in this world. His mother—your grandmother—was a notable enchantress, from a distinguished faery family."

"I never knew her," Lynet murmured. "Then I am part faery?"

"You are. You may never have known it, but anyone from this world could see it in you at a glance. You have the look."

"That's what Terence said," Lynet replied.

Morgan nodded. "Terence would know. He is from a very great faery family himself. He is, in fact, the Duke of Avalon."

Lynet blinked with astonishment. "And he serves as a squire in the World of Men?" she asked faintly.

"Don't ask me," Morgan said. "I don't understand it either. Anyway, the point is that you are only part human."

Lynet frowned suddenly. "But doesn't that mean that my sister is also part faery?"

"In theory," Morgan admitted, "but not really. Even in families where the faery strain is strong, you never
know where it will come out. In my own family, my sisters and I are enchantresses, but among my nephews only Gawain shows his faery blood. As for his brothers Gaheris, Agrivaine, and especially that nincompoop Gareth, they're as earthbound as mud clods. And your sister, well, she's far too foolish to be anything but pure human, as you'll soon be able to observe firsthand. It is time you went back to that other place."

"You mean home?"

Morgan shook her head. "You don't know it yet, but that isn't your home anymore. This is. But for now, to keep you from homesickness, you are permitted to take a gift with you. Let me show you something." Morgan rolled aside a rock, revealing a small hole in the cavern wall. From the hole, she took out three bottles. "These are three elixers, each with its own powers, none to be taken lightly. You may choose one for your own."

"What are they?"