Under A Velvet Cloak (12 page)

“Because you will have too much power. You may not as yet realize your full strength, but I see it, and will not tolerate it in my vicinity.
Go
from here and
do
not return.”

“But I hardly did any magic, and was clumsy at that.”

“You made a dry rock geyser a fountain that flooded the area enough to put out a prairie fire. Most practitioners can manage only a thin squirt.”

“Well, the need was great.”

“And you rose to it without thinking. What other unrealized potentials do you possess, awaiting your unthinking need? But that was the least of it.”

“The least?”

“The Grail. You saw the Grail.”

“Well, I was with Sir Gawain. It was his quest.”

“He was chaste. You were not. How could you see it?”

Kerena’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know.” Actually Sir Gawain had no longer been chaste by then, but certainly he was far closer to purity than Kerena.

“Not only that, you touched it.”

“Only with a stick. Anyway, it was illusion.”

“Maybe. You shattered it with a blow. No one ever did that, in or out of illusion. You banished it. It should have been impossible for you to affect the image at all.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Here is some advice, in appreciation for the service you have done me: never tell of that episode in this town. They would stone you to death after eviscerating you.”

She realized it was true. She had defiled a holy image.

“You may be sure
I
will not tell,” the Fey continued. “They would do the same to me, for sending you. So it is to our mutual advantage to have you far from here. You may become a marvelous sorceress, once you realize your full abilities, but you have no future here.”

Kerena nodded. The Fey was surely correct.

She bid parting to the cook and coachman, who expressed genuine regret at her departure. Then she set off afoot. Now that her usefulness to the Fey was done, she rated no privileges such as transportation. She could have prevailed on the coachman, but that would have gotten him into trouble.

She had a secret cache she had put away during the Sir Gawain mission, knowing that money was not the key to its success. Now she fetched it.

She rented a room at the edge of town while she considered her prospects. She did not want to return to the brothel, but was not yet ready to commence her major search. She needed time to herself to weather the loss of Sir Gawain. She was being a foolish girl, she knew, but she couldn’t seek and face Morely while in the throes of love for another man. She had to let the edge wear off so she could assert emotional control. Then she could
do
what was necessary.

Two months later she was ready. The memory of Sir Gawain still pained her, but she could handle it. Now she was ready to seek Morely.

She had become familiar with the seedy side of town while working at the brothel. Little there had changed significantly. She walked to a house where several out of work soldiers shared costs. She knocked on the door.

It opened, and a brutish man gazed out at her. “Hey-aren’t you Rena? We don’t have the coin.”

A year after she had retired from the business, they still recognized her. Another girl would have been thrilled. “I am Rena. I come to buy, not to sell.

I want Gordon.”

“You don’t want Gordon.”

“I do.” Her Seeing had informed her of the man’s nature. It hadn’t mattered to her until now.

He rolled his eyes. “Have it your way.” He turned his head. “Gordon! Rena wants you.”

“The hell she does,” Gordon called back.

“Tell her yourself.”

Gordon appeared. He was a huge ugly man, massively muscular. “You don’t know me,” he said gruffly.

“I want to hire you to guard me as I travel. You will pose as my man. I’ll pay you and cover costs.”

“I’m trying to tell you-”

“I don’t want sex. I want to keep the other men off me. You’re honest and not for a woman.”

His mouth fell open. “You sure?”

She brought out her purse. “You will handle the money. Pay yourself what you’re worth.” She put it in his hand.

He hefted it, then opened it to peer inside. “Lady, you need to hide this. You’re carrying gold.”

“Who’s going to take it from you?”

“You trust me that far?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged, amazed. “When?”

“Now.”

“I’ll get my weapons.”

Jolie was privately impressed. The girl was efficient, once she decided on her mission. She had whipped her own formidable feeling into submission.

They hired a coach and rode out of town. “There is more,” Kerena said. They were in the privacy of the passenger chamber. She had not wanted to be seen departing with him.

“I figured as much. I know about you; everybody does. But I didn’t think you knew about me.”

“Men talk. I listen. I got a notion who was who in this town. I’m not sure whether you’re a greater oddity because you don’t rape, or because you don’t steal. They marvel at your restraint.”

“It’s just the way I am. I don’t need a woman, and I can earn my keep.”

“You will have to sleep naked beside me, to make it persuasive. On occasion I will kiss you in public. I will never demand more of you than that, sexually. But others must know that any sexual approach to me will enrage you.”

“Got it. That’s it?”

“No. I have magic.”

“No offense, ma’am, but I don’t much believe in magic.”

“Call me Rena. I will show you.” She drew the cloak closely about her, romanced it, and invoked invisibility. “Find me.”

Gordon looked. He smiled, thinking she had slipped aside and hidden. He reached to touch the seat where she had been. His hand was balked by her body, which had not moved. His eyes widened. He felt around her, forming her outline with his roving hands. “That is you, Rena?”

“Yes.”

“Now I believe in magic.”

She nulled the spell and was visible again. “I have other powers. They are associated with this cloak. If it should ever be stolen, I would be largely bereft of magic. See that it is never stolen.”

“Got it.” Another man might have tried to steal it for himself. This one would not.

“And try to see that no one else knows about this.”

“Now I know why you hired me.”

“Why?”

“If you used that magic on your own, you’d be known for a witch. And you’d have to, to protect yourself from rapists and thieves. I can cover for you.”

“In several respects,” she agreed. “With luck, there will never be any suspicion.”

“I don’t want to pry, but it would help if I knew where we’re going and what you’re looking for.”

“I am looking for my long lost lover, a Seer named Morely. I do not know where he is, but soon I will invoke my cloak’s search utility and orient on him. It may be a long or difficult quest.”

“Got it.”

The coach stopped. They were out of town. They got out, and it returned they way it had come. More than a short ride in an expensive coach would have invited suspicion.

“I will now invoke the cloak.” She kissed the velvet. “I must wreak the unique,” she whispered. “Let me speak what I seek.” She concentrated on Morely the way she remembered him.

The cloak writhed uncomfortably, as if unable to settle. Something was wrong. Could the Fey have misinformed her?

“Problem?” Gordon asked.

“The cloak seems to be trying, but not orienting.”

“How long since you saw him?” Gordon asked.

“Two years.”

“You must have changed some in that time.”

“From girl to woman,” she agreed. Her body had been dawning, with him; it had achieved full daylight thereafter.

“Maybe he did too.”

“He was already a grown man.”

“People can change other ways.”

She considered that. “How?”

“Maybe if he got in a fight, and lost a hand, or something.”

“Or something?”

“Sometimes they castrate enemies.”

She was appalled. If Morely had been tricked, and ambushed, and cut like that-it would account for why he had never returned to her. He would be ashamed. “I couldn’t face that,” she said.

“Maybe some other way. It can’t find him as he was, but maybe can find him as he is now.”

She re-invoked the spell, this time focusing on Morely in a broader manner, allowing for significant change. The cloak rippled, then oriented.

“It got the fix,” she said, gratified. “Faintly.”

“Which direction?”

“That way,” she said, pointing.

“Far away?”

“I think so.”

“Then we’d better veer a little to pick up inns to stay in for several days, travel.”

“Got it,” she said with a smile.

They walked. She had gotten used to riding, but didn’t mind walking again. It reminded her of all the walking she had done with Morely. She might have to build up her stamina again, but that was no problem.

In the evening they detoured to find a village and inn. Gordon turned out to be a shrewd negotiator, getting them a good room and good food, with several pieces of silver in exchange for the small gold piece he proffered.

One of the patrons stared at Rena. “Say-I’ve seen her before.”

Gordon faced the man, frowning, his hand touching the hilt of his sword. “Saw who?” he asked menacingly.

“Nobody,” the man said quickly.

“Thank you,” Kerena said when they were alone in the room.

“If a man wants to night with a pretty woman, it’s nobody else’s business what’s she done in the past.”

“Exactly.” She stripped and washed at the basin. Then he did. He was not aroused, confirming his lack of interest in women.

By the time he was done, the water was almost black “We’ll need fresh water,” Kerena said. “Stay naked as they fetch it.”

“Got it.” Gordon opened the door. “Hey innkeep! More water.”

In a moment the man’s plump wife came with a large pitcher and bucket. Gordon opened the door, naked, while Kerena lay on the bed, similarly exposed. The woman said nothing as she dumped the dirty water into the bucket, and refilled the basin with fresh. She departed without looking, closing the door silently.

“Now the whole inn knows we are lovers,” Kerena said, satisfied.

“You could have any man you wanted for that.”

“Wanted: that’s the key. Morely is the only one I want.”

“So all that business in the brothel was-”

“Just business.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it’s like, to want a woman.”

“I could evoke your passion, if you wish.”

He shuddered. “Please, no. I’d be disgusted.”

“You look sexually normal. What
do
you like?”

“Boys.”

“But isn’t an undeveloped young woman much like a boy, except for the one organ she lacks?”

“Much like,” he agreed. “But neither girl nor grown man appeals to me. Only a boy.”

“It’s not a thing I understand, but it’s your business.”

They slept beside each other, naked. If anyone peeked in-and it was likely someone did, for there were crevices in the walls-their status as lovers remained.

Their travel became routine. They left England and moved north into Scotland. Gradually the focus of the cloak grew stronger; Kerena hoped that meant they were getting closer to Morely. She also hoped that Morely was somewhere on the isle, and not beyond it. She didn’t want to wrestle with boat passage. It was bad enough roughing it outdoors where there was no human habitation near. They had to use the cloak as cover and share human warmth, as she had with Sir Gawain, but now there was no question of seduction.

Sometimes bands of robbers came at them. Now Gordon showed his mettle. He laid about him with his sword and killed those who refused to flee. Once when there were too many, backed up by archers, Kerena invoked the invulnerability aspect of the cloak and draped it on him so that he could not be struck. It hampered his arms somewhat, but when he saw the arrows bouncing off it he was reconciled. “That’s some shield.”

“Magic has its uses,” she agreed.

Then came a complication. It started with some inexplicable sickness. Kerena would vomit in the morning, then feel better in the afternoon. Once or twice could be a consequence of bad food, but when it continued for ten days, they had to take stock. “It is not good for you to travel this way,” Gordon said. “You need to get better.”

She paced around their camp as the sun set. “I can’t explain it. It is not my way to be like this. I haven’t eaten anything poisonous; I know what plants do that.” Indeed, she had made a considerable study of medicinal herbs of all types. What was poisonous in large dose could be medicinal in small dose.

Gordon squinted at her. “Oops,” he murmured.

“What’s the matter?”

“I saw your silhouette in the low sunlight.”

“Oh, now you care about female silhouettes?”

“No. That’s why I haven’t been looking. Your waist has thickened, and I think not from overeating.”

“My waist?” Then it came to her. “Oh, no!”

“You are with child.”

“I can’t be! I haven’t-and when I did, I used a spell.”

“What about five months ago?”

“I was with Sir Gawain.” And it came to her. “I forgot the spell! I was in love and never thought of it.”

That slowed them further. Kerena had not sought Sir Gawain’s baby, but now that it was inside her, she wanted very much not to hurt it in any way she could avoid. She dared not overstrain herself, or risk going without food in uninhabited territory. Sometimes Gordon carried her across rough terrain. They had to pause to gather food reserves, sometimes for several days at a time, before advancing, and the amount of travel they accomplished in a day was severely diminished. It was further complicated by her urgent desire not to have her pregnancy known by the people they encountered. Thus a distance they might have covered in a week before, now took a month. It was frustratingly inefficient.

“I wouldn’t blame you for going home in disgust,” she said.

“I am being paid for my time,” he reminded her. “And I find I like taking care of you. It is as close as I will ever get to having a family.”

“You have had none of the fun part, only the chore part.”

“This is the fun part, for me. I like you; I’m sure if I were normal, I would be in love with you. You are pleasant to be with.”