A Strange and Ancient Name (21 page)

“Matilde, no!” As she reached down to the puppy, Hauberin snatched her aside. The pup glared up at him in cheated rage, hungry green fire blazing in suddenly far-from-innocent eyes, and the prince shouted out in the Faerie language, “You’ve lost to me, creature! By all the Power of my blood, I command you, take your rightful form!”

He put a surging of will behind the words. The puppy form cringed, snarling, then submitted, obediently blurring, growing . . . puppy no longer but a long, sleek canine shape, pale as moonlight, angry intelligence in its tapering green eyes. It made one defiant rush at Matilde—only to spring back with a startled yelp as she lunged at it with her suddenly drawn belt-knife.

The
galipote
glanced from the threatening iron on one side to the equally threatening Faerie lord on the other. And all at once all its defiance broke. Tail between its legs like a frightened hound, the creature turned and raced wildly away, yipping. As its cried died away, Hauberin and Matilde stared after it in amazement, then, as one, burst into laughter.

“What—what was that?” Matilde gasped. “A
g-galipote
out of the—the tales?”

The prince nodded. “A—hungry one.”

“But it looked so silly! Not like a—a demon, l-like a frightened puppy running for its life!”

Hauberin took a deep, steadying breath. “Ach, lady,” he began. But as Matilde, wiping her eyes, turned to him, he saw only the knife glinting in her hand, and instinctively flinched away from iron. The woman stared at him, then glanced down at the blade.

“Oh. Of course.” She hastily resheathed it. “You . . . really
are
of Faerie.”

“Did you still have any doubts?”

“What was it you shouted at the
galipote?
A—a spell?”

“Not really. I simply commanded the creature to reveal its true form. It had enough awe of things Faerie to obey. Lady, come. I’ve found us some berries for dinner.”

But she stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

That simple touch seemed to blaze through him. He froze, stunned, thinking,
Oh no, not here, not now . . .
Matilde’s eyes, their delicate slant so like those of a Faerie woman, were soft and wondering, for this brief time totally unshadowed by fear. Her lips held the faintest trace of a smile, so sweet . . . All at once Hauberin realized how very much aware he was of the feminine warmth and scent of her. Time seemed to still as they stared at each other, hardly daring to breathe . . .

But then the prince flinched away as though she’d burned him, reminding himself angrily,
She’s human. And another man’s wife.
“I could hardly have let you be eaten,” he said belatedly.

“No. Of course not.” She was struggling to match his brusque tone, refusing to meet his gaze, busily smoothing her disheveled hair. “Ach, the tangles . . .”

Tangles. “Matilde, I . . .”

“Are you two all right?” It was Alliar, appearing in the wind spirit’s usual silent fashion. “I heard you shout—”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.” This once, Hauberin could cheerfully have throttled his friend. “My lady,” he added, voice rigidly neutral, “if you will gather these berries, Alliar and I will take care of the firewood.”

###

By the time the three of them were kneeling before their newly acquired pile of wood, the prince had almost convinced himself that warm, disconcerting moment had meant nothing.

Matilde certainly seemed to think so. Judging from her unembarrassed manner, she hadn’t meant to express anything more than honest gratitude. Now, eyeing the wood with a doubtful glance, she said, “I
think
there’s enough to see us through the night. If nights here are anything like mortal nights. I don’t know what we’re going to do for flint, but at least I have the steel.”

She hesitantly touched her little knife, but Hauberin shook his head. “No need.”

He sparked the fire into life with an extravagant flash of will, showing off; having flinched from a lady’s dainty dagger still rankled. But her reaction wasn’t at all what he expected: a wave of such undeniable terror that the prince said, abashed, “Here now, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t you, or—that. It was . . . I . . .”

“Lady?”

“I—Oh, God help me,
I
can do that, too!”

Hauberin and Alliar stared. “But what’s so terrible about that?” the being asked.

“Don’t you see? I’m
human! Humans
aren’t supposed to be able to do things like that!”

“Why ever not? Hauberin’s own mother—”

But the prince waved his friend to silence. “Ah, so
that
explains it,” he murmured. “All along I thought you almost unnaturally magickless, even if you did so miraculously know I was in trouble in the tower room—”

“I told you, I heard your fall.”

“Through the rainstorm. Of course. And you just happened to nee here with me—”

“I didn’t think about it, I just—It only—”

“Seemed like the right choice at the time,” Hauberin completed. “You weren’t magickless at all. Instead, you were hiding your gifts so completely—even, I’d guess, from yourself—that I couldn’t sense—”

“No!” It was a cry of pain. “I don’t have any gifts! I’m not a witch, or—or—”

“Lady,” Alliar soothed, “we’d be the last to accuse you.”

She glanced from one Faerie being to the other. “Of . . . course. But,” the woman insisted stubbornly, “I’m not a witch.”

Hauberin sighed. “If it’s any comfort, it’s true that my own mother was called a witch. It’s not such a terrible name.”

“Isn’t it?” Matilde’s voice was savage. “They
burn
witches, my lord, they chain them to stakes, and light the fire under their feet, and there’s no escape, only the smoke and the flames and the pain—”

She broke off with a strangled little sob. As Hauberin and Alliar watched her in helpless astonishment, she gradually fought herself back under control, wiping her eyes with an angry hand. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Nonsense,” the prince murmured. “After all you’ve been through this day, you’re entitled to a little collapse.”

“No. I mustn’t. My husband . . .”

“Wouldn’t allow such weakness, Hauberin finished silently. “You must love him very much.”

Matilde glanced at him in surprise. “What has love to do with it?”

“All . . . well . . .” the prince floundered, “you married him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how things stand in Faerie, but women in my land don’t have much say in the matter. A noblewoman must be wed.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s no other choice!” Matilde erupted. “She’s not allowed to own property, so His Gracious Majesty off in Paris has decreed. She isn’t trained to—to run a farm or a business like her commonborn sisters. It’s wed, or enter a nunnery.”

“And you didn’t want that,” Hauberin said, feeling his way through unknown territory. Matilde eyed him uneasily.

“You . . . wouldn’t know about such things as nunneries, would you? They’re walled retreats, behind which holy woman live and pray, shut away from the distractions of the world.”

Alliar made a tiny sound of distress. “A prison.”

“No. Not for those with a true calling. But I . . . oh, dear lord, I—I think I would have smothered behind those walls.”

“Ae, yes,” the being murmured in sympathy. “So you wed to escape confinement.”

“I . . . wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but . . . yes. My parents warned me that not many men would want a . . . willful . . . wife, one who wantonly spoke her own mind. Particularly one with ‘unlucky’ hair.” She gave a red braid a sharp tug. “Of course they were right. But my lord husband made a most gracious offer for me. And he’s been good to me. Oh, come,” she added desperately, “you’re both staring at me as though I’ve been speaking a foreign tongue!”

“In Faerie,” Hauberin murmured, “we wed for love.”

That earned him an astonished stare. “What, even you, a prince?”

“Even me. My people can’t lie, remember? And a forced marriage would certainly be a lie.”

“But you can’t dare wait till you fall in love! I mean, if your people follow any laws of succession—”

“I must produce an heir? Well yes, everyone would be much happier if said heir came from a wife; it’s . . . tidier.” Hauberin hesitated, trying to avoid shocking her human sensibilities. “But the first child I sire, in wedlock or without, becomes my legal heir.”

“But . . .”

“We are not a fertile race. We can’t afford to worry about that ridiculous ‘legitimate’ or ‘illegitimate’.” He shook his head, bemused, “I never realized how large the gap is between our two peoples’ ways. No wonder my mother—Ah, enough of this. Let’s eat the
ailaitha
berries before they spoil.” When he saw Matilde hesitate, Hauberin added wryly, “I assure you, no matter what the stories say, tasting Faerie food won’t enslave you.”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would,” she lied boldly, and bit into a berry, hastily leaning forward to keep the spurt of juice from her clothes. “Mm, sweet!”

“And nourishing,” Hauberin added. “They should keep us healthy till we get out of Nulle Part. Which hopefully won’t take too long.”

“Amen.”

They were silent for a time, munching. Suddenly Matilde gave a brittle little laugh.

“Lady?”

“Here my husband is forever worrying about my honor. If he could see me now, alone with two strange men . . .”

“?”
Alliar asked silently.

“Gendered games,”
Hauberin explained, and saw comprehension dawn.

“ ‘Strange,’ indeed,” the being murmured. “No danger from me, lady, believe me. Even if I . . . could desire, I . . . ah, couldn’t.”

Matilde’s eyes were suddenly fully of pity. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . Was it a . . . war wound, my lord?”

Hauberin nearly choked.
“She means to the male anatomy, Li.”

“Oh. Oh!
No!” the being cried aloud. “What I meant was, I literally can’t—I don’t have—Oh, Winds! What I am isn’t a man, but a wind spirit. Yes, I know this disguise is convincing, but—Here. Look.”

Alliar smoothly slid into one of the being’s more usual forms: lithe and sleekly golden of skin and mane, face and body fiercely planed, lovely and sexless as stone. Matilde drew in her breath in astonishment, and Alliar asked uneasily, “Am I so frightening?”

“So beautiful. I’ve . . . seen your likeness on church walls, my lord. You lack only the wings to be an angel.”

As Hauberin explained the concept in a flash of thought, the beings eyes widened in embarrassment. “Oh, hardly that! But thank you, my lady.”

Alliar and Matilde smiled shyly, lost for an instant in their own world. To his amazement, Hauberin felt a sharp twinge of jealousy. Of
Alliar?
Oh, how utterly ridiculous! But the prince heard himself saying, a touch too sharply, “I think you’ve been asked to accept too many wonders this day, lady. You must be weary.”

Matilde, still staring at Alliar, started to protest, only to hastily stifle a yawn. Hauberin laughed shortly. “You see? Your body is living by mortal time, which must be somewhere in the small hours of the night. I wish I could conjure an angelic blanket for you”—he shot a wry glance at Alliar—“but I’m not an angel, either. Let’s try to get some sleep, regardless.”

###

The night was very dark; this little pocket of Nowhere lacked stars. Matilde, deep in exhausted slumber, was curled up against the chill like a child, red hair a tangled mass, face looking very young, very innocent. Hauberin sat starkly awake, not daring to gaze her way, staring moodily into the fire. All at once aware of eyes upon him, the prince glanced up to see Alliar, quiet as a golden statue, watching him.

“What?”
Hauberin asked shortly.

“She’s human.”

“I know that.”

“Only human.”
Alliar’s eyes were glowing orbs in the darkness.
“You already carry human blood enough in your veins. You dare not mate with a human woman, and risk creating a magickless heir.”

Hauberin stirred impatiently.
“What would you know about such things?”

“Oh, please. Maybe I can’t really understand flesh-and-blood mating games, but I can still recognize them. I’ve seen you play them with women before this.”

“I wasn’t playing any mating games. And stay out of my affairs.”

“I can’t. Not if I’m truly your friend. Hauberin, you cannot let it happen.”

“Dammit, I know! Nothing happened. Nothing’s going to happen. Now, leave me alone!”

Feeling Alliar’s insulted anger like a door slamming shut against his mind, the prince stared into the fire with renewed intensity. Powers, the sooner he found the way out of this ridiculous Nulle Part . . .

Oh, idiot! He wasn’t likely to get a better chance to try than right now, with the fire to serve as focus. Staring into it, not attempting to see pictures in the flickering flames, Hauberin instead let them soothe him, half-hypnotize his conscious self . . . Whispering calming Words, relaxing his mind still further, the prince let his inner self roam free, hunting . . . hunting . . .

Yes. The sprite hadn’t tricked him. All at once he
felt
the arcane paths tangling through Nulle Part like so many silvery threads, each leading to a different possibility, a Realm, a place, a time—or, unpredictably, to the emptiness beyond time and space. He shuddered away from that terrible nothingness, hunting anew . . .

There. He could see it as a pattern in his mind, the one path they needed, that twisting puzzle of a psychic ribbon: the one path that would take them safely back to the stone circle in the human Realm. He knew it, he
felt
it, and sent his senses soaring along the path to memorize its every devious turn. It was no easy thing; the path seemed to squirm under his touch like a living thing consciously trying to escape, but Hauberin dared not let go or he might never find it again. Straining, he sent his mind twisting with it, following its every move, struggling with it till every convolution was set into his memory—ah, Powers be praised, he was done. Hauberin slid back into himself and, before he could move or even think, into exhausted sleep as well.