Under A Velvet Cloak (9 page)

The coach was waiting in a secluded glade. The coachman was snoozing as the horse grazed.

“I am done,” she said, not loudly.

He came awake. “Miss Renal How was it?”

Suddenly it struck her. “I killed him! I stabbed him to death.”

“Remove your cloak, Miss, and I will comfort you.”

She took off the cloak and put it in the coach. Then she accepted his embrace. Of course it would lead to sex, but he had become something of a friend, and did care for her to a reasonable extent. She did need the comfort.

“It was awful,” she sobbed. “I wanted to distract him, to talk him out of it, but I messed it up and he raped me and I had to kill him.”

“You didn’t use the cloak?” the coachman asked alarmed.

“Only to protect my neck when he throttled me. I wanted to occupy him for a night and day, so he would forget, but somehow I didn’t. So I had no choice. I am devastated.”

“Miss, can you keep a secret?”

What was on his mind? “Yes.”

“It’s like that, working for the Fey. I have had to
do
things I didn’t like. I know how it is. She forces you not only to
do
her bidding, but to do it in the way she wants. She makes people fit her moral compass. You couldn’t help it.”

“I could have distracted him longer. I know it. Somehow I didn’t.”

Jolie felt guilty.

“I don’t think so. Pirates like to rape, loot, and kill; they get almost as much satisfaction from the one as the other. He wouldn’t have let you play him along any further than he wanted. The Fey knew that.”

“She said I might find another way.”

“She knew there wasn’t. She let you try your way and fail, so you had no choice but her way. She wanted you to be blooded. To learn to kill. Don’t blame yourself; blame her. But don’t tell her I told you.”

Kerena considered that, and realized it was true. She had been put into a situation with but one likely outcome. Indeed, it had not really been her fault. Still, it hurt.

Yet Jolie knew there had been an alternative. That knowledge hurt her too.

“Cry,” the coachman said. “It helps. I know.”

She cried into his stout shoulder. It did help.

Then she lifted her face. “You haven’t tried to seduce me.”

“It doesn’t seem right. You are in pain.”

“You are a decent man. You deserve your reward. Take me.”

He took her, gently, on the coach seat. She kissed him repeatedly, appreciating his concern for her. She had long since learned that though sex was the first thing most men thought of when they saw a figure like hers, they did have other dimensions.

Except, perhaps, for her anonymous lover of the night. He had shown no other interest than sex, yet that had proved to be more than sufficient.

The journey back took time, and she obliged the coachman frequently. It was her main coin, and she realized that his friendship could be useful. Once they got back, the Fey would have other things for both of them to do, so there was a convenient limit to the affair. Meanwhile, it did help distract her from the awfulness of her blooding.

Yet there was worse. Back in town, Kerena went to visit Molly, and learned that the girl was dead. She had been brutally murdered by a client. Blake had gone after the man with a knife, but too late to catch him. Her friend was gone.

“The girl was cursed,” the Fey said matter of factly.

“Cursed?”

“Destined to die young and violently. Didn’t you know?”

“She never spoke of such a thing.”

“Why would she? Her destiny was fixed.”

Kerena was hurting from the loss of her friend so soon after the loss of her own innocence about killing. It was as though she had stabbed her friend. “Couldn’t the curse have been stopped?

“The time to abate a curse is before it strikes. Or better, before it is made.”

Of course it was too late. But Kerena still hurt. Why couldn’t she have seen it coming with her Seeing? Maybe she could have, and prevented it, had she just thought to. Had she been there when her friend most needed her. “What can I do now?”

“After she is dead? Reanimation of the dead is beyond my powers and yours, I think.”

Surely true. But she still couldn’t let it rest. “Where is she now?”

“The victims of such curses normally can’t rest, even after death. Not until they manage to abate their curses. She will be a ghost until the final kingdom comes.”

Kerena thought about that. If Molly remained here, albeit as a ghost, maybe there was still a chance for her. If there were a way to reanimate her. If Kerena could find it. She had learned much magic; could she somehow learn this?

She didn’t know. But she intended to keep it in mind.

“This case is special,” the Fey informed her. “You must corrupt a good man.”

“Corruption is easy, if I don’t have to kill him.” Kerena made no secret of her distaste for killing, but also didn’t try to hide the fact that she
had
killed. Her training was proceeding according to form.

“Not in this case. He must not be killed, and he must not know my hand in this. He is intelligent and honorable, dreadfully difficult to sway. Succeed in this, and I will teach you the last great power of your cloak: the ability to orient on its master.”

“Morely!”

“You can find him, and with what you have learned, it may now be safe for you to
do
so. After this mission.”

“I will accomplish it,” Kerena said, thrilled by the prospect of finally locating her beloved. She was now fifteen, and thoroughly practiced both in the seduction of men and the use of the magic cloak.

“My benighted brother the king seeks the grail.” The Fey spoke of Arthur as if he were a dullard, her jealously of his status showing. She surely would have preferred to rule herself, but women weren’t allowed at this stage of history.

“The what?”

“It is an ornate cup, said to be the chalice used by Jesus Christ to drink his wine at the Last Supper, and in which some of his blood was caught when he died on the cross. Surely superstition, but my brother believes in it, and has set his knights of the round table to seek it and fetch it to him. The real origin of this talisman is as a female sex symbol whose blood relates to that of the curse of women. Thus men are drawn to it as they are to women, but regard it as pure in a way no women can be. So if there is such a cup, it is unattainable by any man who is not quite pure. In short, a male virgin.”

“Those exist?” Kerena asked, surprised.

The Fey smiled. “There are a number of boys below the age of ten who are pure in that foolish manner, and a few retain it to adulthood, if they are not comely. This does not relate to their inevitable experimental spilling of their seed on the ground, only to their genital contact with women. But a handsome, manly virgin is a rarity indeed. Sir Lancelot was one, before the queen corrupted him; that was perhaps her noblest deed, though she got little thanks from the king. Now the leading candidate to find this article is the king’s younger cousin Sir Gawain.” She accented the name on the first syllable: GA-win.

“Sir GawainI I have heard of him.

“Everyone has,” the Fey agreed wryly. “But no one has seduced him. That will be your chore.”

“But he is a famous knight! I couldn’t even aspire to touch him.”

“He is a man. You are a beautiful young creature. You need not touch him; get him to touch you. Get close to him, and let the chemistry percolate.” The term she used was not exactly “chemistry,” as that word had not yet come into play, but it was the way Jolie heard it.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Kerena said, awed.

“You little fool, what do you think I have been training you for? Those other missions I could have done more expediently with other personnel. I was preparing you for this. Remember the reward I offer.”

Kerena remembered. “I will try,” she agreed.

The Fey nodded, satisfied to have corralled her balky mare. “It will take time, because he is proof against all ordinary suasions. Do not push it; he must approach you in his own fashion. But when at last his burgeoning desire can no longer be contained, accept it. At that point your work for me will be done.”

“That would really deny him the Grail?” Kerena asked dubiously. “Why should an inanimate cup know or care about the sexual status of the man who takes it?”

“As I said, this is mostly superstition. But there is always the chance there is genuine magic there. I will accept it either way: that it can’t be touched by other than a virgin, or that the men believe it can’t be. Then even if Gawain were able to take it after all, my brother would not believe in its authenticity, and would not use it to enhance his power.”

Kerena nodded. Like Morely, the Fey knew the distinction between appearance and reality, and was not fooled by the mere semblance of magic. She was out to nullify that cup regardless, thus curbing the power of her brother. The king would never have the use of it, even if it came to sit upon his table.

Sir Gawain liked to gaze at the stars. Other knights thought he was a bit tetched, but Kerena understood; the wonder of so many brilliances still transfixed her when she allowed it. She couldn’t help liking a man who liked the night sky, regardless of his status. So she went in the evening to the spot the knight preferred, some distance from the royal town, and joined him in staring raptly at the dark sky.

“Maiden,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be home?”

“Home is drudgery,” she replied. “I prefer to travel. Since I can not safely do it alone, I do it in my imagination, moving among the myriad stars.”

“This is an unusual attitude for a young girl. Surely your prospects for achievement and marriage are of greater concern.”

“Perhaps, in time. But first I wish I could fathom the world, or as much of it as may be within my reach. There are so many things to know, and a lifetime seems too little to learn them all.”

“I agree.” He looked at her in the wan starlight, surely able to see no more than her dark silhouette. “However, you can admire the stars from almost any location where there is no nearby lamplight to interfere. Why did you come here?”

Thus did he let her know she wasn’t fooling him. “I would like to travel with you, bold knight.” She was being easy on the flattery, as he was not the type to be deceived by false words.

He sighed. “For a moment I almost hoped you were not that sort. I have nothing for you.”

“I am not approaching you as that sort. I really
do
want to travel, and believe it would be most safe and rewarding in your company.”

“Perhaps I was not clear. I am a chaste knight. I do not wish to dally with the distaff gender, however much I may respect it as a class.”

“I am not chaste. I am but fifteen years of age, but have seen solid service in the town brothel district. I would like to be known for something other than my body.”

“You are Renal”

“So you recognize me,” she said ruefully. “Though I am sure you never frequented that district.”

“I have friends who do. They have reports of a girl who not only indulges their carnal appetites excellently, but also engages their minds. I had not heard tell of her in the past year, however, and assumed she had gone elsewhere.”

“Gone to wealthy households.”

“Ah. But even if I had that kind of interest, I lack wealth. The acquisition of material value is not for me.”

“Consequently on occasion you go hungry.”

“That is the way it must be.”

She phrased her offer carefully. “I do not wish to affront you with any unkind implication, knowing it would be unfair. But wouldn’t it be more convenient for you to travel if there were someone along who was less scrupulous than you are in the practical matters of obtaining food and lodging for you?”

“I am satisfied to endure what fate intends for me.”

“And your horses?”

Sir Gawain made a little sigh. “I hate to have them suffer on my behalf.” Jolie knew that this was before the time of real squires; knights had to see to the needs of their steeds themselves. In fact they were hardly knights in the manner of legend; they were more like loyal supporters of the king, there to do his will in major or minor ways. They had no metal armor or brightly polished shields blazoned with their shields
_of
arms; tough weathered leather sufficed.

“There might be no need, if someone were there to make arrangements for their comfort.”

“It is true what they have said: you have an uncanny knack for discovering a man’s weaknesses.”

“Let me accompany you, and I will devote myself to the sustenance of your horses.”

He was silent for a time. “As it happens, I am about to embark on what may be an extended quest. Provender for my horses is uncertain. I would be gratified to be assured of their welfare. Yet I must repeat that I have no intention of treating any young women as anything other than parallel spirits.”

“This was my understanding of you. Were I to travel with any other man, I would have to be his mistress.”

“Surely true,” he agreed. “Even Lancelot-” He broke off, unwilling to speak unkindly of another knight.

Jolie knew what he was thinking of. Sir Lancelot had become notorious for his passion for the king’s wife, and it seemed she returned the interest. It was a scandal that somehow had simmered below the awareness of the king. Yet how could the king not have known? The answer, it seemed, was that Lancelot was a very skilled knight the king needed by his side, and the king was willing to overlook certain irregularities to ensure that Lancelot stayed. The queen was the best guarantee of that. It was not as if the king himself had never strayed. So as long as the two were circumspect, the matter was ignored. For now.

“I have a few coins,” Kerena said. “I can obtain some feed for your horses. But that will soon be gone. Then I will need to garner more coins, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to do that in the manner I have practiced in the past.”

“I agree emphatically. Fortunately there is a protocol. I will
do
some knightly service for a farmer, who will in turn provide some sustenance. The details do not concern me, other than the need to be assured that no one is treated unfairly.”