"Oh, Magnus!" Cordelia cried, exasperated. "He's no longer a babe! Gregory doth know what danger is!"

"Even so," Geoffrey agreed. "'Tis silly of thee to worry."

But for once, Magnus's concern was warranted.

Gregory popped into sight in the middle of a thicket some distance away, and found himself staring up at a half-dozen men in dirty, ragged livery, rusty steel caps, and three-day beards. They stared at each other, stupefied.

Then Gregory felt a surge of panic—but before he could think himself back to Magnus, two of the men lunged and seized his arms, and he froze in fright, staring up at them.

"Hugh!" cried one. "What in the name of all that's foul isthis ?"

"Ah, that? Why, 'tis a lad, Bertram—naught but a lad. Dost'a not see?"

"Oh. Well, uh, I can see 'tis a lad, Hugh—yet what doth it here?"

"Well asked." Hugh frowned down at Gregory. "And how came it amongst us so suddenly, and with so great a noise? What dost thou, boy?"

Well, after all, he was only six years old—and being Gregory, he couldn't think of anything but the truth. "Why, I do but play!"

"Play?" The men eyed him warily. "What manner of game is this?"

"'Tis flit-tag."

"'Flit-tag'?" Suspicion sharpened.

"Aye, one doth flit from place to place—and the other must seek in his mind to discover where he hath fled."

"In his mind?" Wariness was edged with fear, and the hands clenched more tightly on his arms. Gregory winced, but they paid him no heed.

"He is a witch-child!"

"Aye—yet which child?" Hugh fixed Gregory with a glare. "What is thy name?"

"Gr-Gregory. G-Gallowglass."

Bertram, Hugh, and their mates locked gazes. Together, they all nodded. "

'Tis the one we've been sent for."

Fear stabbed through Gregory, horror welling in behind it. What had he done?

Then he caught something odd, and the horror receded. He frowned. "Thy garb is motley. How canst thou be sent?"

Six gazes whipped back to him. "What?"

"Thy garb," Gregory repeated. "Thou dost not wear livery. Thou dost wear each colors that differ one from another. Thou art not, then, all of one lord's company; therefore no lord can have sent thee."

The men exchanged glances again. "'Tis even as we've said," one snarled. "

'Tis a witch-brat."

"Aye! Let us slay him and be done with it!"

"Slay?" Gregory gasped, and his mind screamed,Magnus! Cordelia!

Geoffrey! Aid me ! "Why! Wherefore wouldst thou slay me? I have done thee no harm!"

"I would not be sure o' that, sin that thou art a witch's brat," Bertram snarled.

"If thou hast such power as thou dost show, how canst thounot harm me?"

Gregory stared, made speechless by absurdity—and in his mind, Magnus's voice soothed,Courage, brother .

Oh, Gregory…!

Bide, Cordelia! Gregory, we dare not leap upon them, lest they strike at thee.

Yet if they do strike, thou must flit! Geoffrey added.If thou dost bear two great hulking brutes with thee, fear not! We shall deal with them !

If thou canst, Magnus agreed.Yet we'll seek to come upon thee, if we may;

'tis more sure. Do thou keep them occupied in talk, the whiles we do stalk them .

Gregory swallowed heavily, reassured, but still frightened. "Is that wherefore thou wouldst slay me?"

"Nay," Hugh growled. "For that, 'tis a matter of money, lad—pure silver.

Living comes hard, to we who have fled to the greenwood. We must take food, or coin, where it comes."

They are soldiers who have deserted their lords! Geoffrey's thought was scandalized and enraged. 'Ware, lad! For an they did flee their posts, belike 'twas for that they'd committed heinous crimes!

Thou dost not aid, Magnus thought, exasperated.Gregory, lad! They do wish to talk! Ask, accuse! But keep them in speech !

Keep them in speech! How? But Gregory plucked up his courage, and tried.

"How—how will slaying me, gain thee silver? I have none!"

"A thought," growled another soldier, and he patted Gregory quickly down both sides, then shook his head. " 'Tis as he doth say—he hath no purse."

"Surely not, Clodog!" said Hugh in disgust. "'Tis but a lad, when all's said and done."

" 'Tis a fee," Bertram explained. "They have hired us to slay thee—and thy sister and brothers."

Gregory felt a cold chill spread out from his spine. "Yet— how canst thou know who to slay?"

"Why, the High Warlock's children!" Hugh replied. "How could we mistake thee? All in Gramarye do know of thee— three warlock-lads and a witchling!"

Gregory tried to ignore the mental squawks of rage. "Who —who could have hired thee? Who doth hate us so?"

"Any of thy father's enemies, I warrant," Bertram snorted.

Hugh shrugged. "Who can say who they were? We know only mat three slight, meager men with burning eyes did come

to us, give us silver, and promise us more if we slew thee." He shook his head sadly. " 'Tis a pity—thou dost seem a good enough lad."

"An he were not a warlock," Clodog growled.

"Still, we have need of the silver," Bertram grunted, and he whipped a dagger up.

"Nay, hold!" Gregory stared at the naked blade, terrified. "An they will pay thee silver to slay us, Papa will pay thee more to spare us!"

The dagger hovered, but hesitated. "More?"

"Gold!" Gregory cried in desperation.

"Yet who will pay it?" Hugh scoffed. "Thy father is vanished! So the meager men did say—and so say all we have heard by the roadside!"

"The King!" Gregory gasped. "King Tuan will ransom us!"

The thugs exchanged glances again. "Belike he will," Bertram said slowly. "

'Tis known how the King doth treasure his warlocks."

"I mislike the thought." Another bandit darted glances about the thicket, as though expecting to see King's men pushing through the brambles.

"Eh, he'll not come himself," Hugh growled. "Dost thou think a king to be a page? Nay, belike he'll send a knight."

"With men-at-arms!"

"We'll bid him not to."

Gregory sighed with relief, going limp. Then he saw the glint in Hugh's eye and tensed again.

"Wherefore ought we to take gold for one, when we may have gold for four?" Hugh purred.

Gregory watched him, feeling like a sparrow beset by a snake.

The dagger whipped about and down, its point pricking Gregory's throat. He gasped in horror and froze.

"Call thy brother," Hugh breathed.

Gregory stared at him, wide-eyed.Magnus! He doth wish thee to come, too!

Do not —'tis danger!

Mayhap, Magnus thought slowly,yet not for us .

The dagger twisted, pricking deeper. "There is blood on thy throat," Hugh growled. "Summon him!"

Air boomed. Even though they'd known it was coming, the thugs flinched away. Geoffrey stood beside his little brother, his lip twisted with contempt. "He hath summoned. What wilt thou have of me?"

Hugh reddened, and stepped forward again. "What! Is there no more than this?"

Geoffrey set his jaw, eyes narrowing. "Aye, there do be more Gallowglass children. Art truly so foolish as to wish us all here?"

Huge hands seized him, and Hugh snarled, " 'Tis thou who art foolish.

Summon thy brother!"

"Be not so hasty," Geoffrey sneered. "I do marvel thou hast the courage for it, sin that thou wast so craven as to flee thy lord!"

The back of Hugh's hand cracked into his cheek. "Mind thy tongue, when thou dost speak to thy betters! Now summon thy Brother!"

"On thy head be it, then," Geoffrey gasped, and thought,Come, brother! The lambs are led to the pen !

Magnus was there, in a crack of thunder. He nodded to Hugh with grave courtesy. "My sibs tell me thou dost wish speech with us."

The soldiers stared, frozen.

Magnus nodded, with sympathy. "Aye, 'tis unnerving. My father hath said he shall never become accustomed to such flittings in and out."

Bertram swore, and set the edge of his dagger against Magnus's throat.

"Hold!" Hugh barked. "We lack yet one!"

"What—my sister? Wouldst thou slay lasses also?"

"Do not seek to school me." Hugh's eyes narrowed. "What I must needs do for a living, I must needs do."

"Thou mayest yet live without slaying children."

Hugh turned and spat. "Hiding in thickets? Sleeping on bracken? Eating roots and berries and, with good fortune, the meat of a badger? 'Tis not what I would call living! For that, I need gold."

"Which thou wilt gain by my blood?"

"Aye, and thy liver and lights, if need be!" Hugh roared. "Now summon thy sister!"

Magnus sighed, and closed his eyes.

Save thine effort. Rage imbued Cordelia's thoughts.I flit to thee already !

And Robin?

He hath gone before, with Kelly! Fess stands ready, too, if needed, but I shall leave my sweet unicorn behind.

"She comes," Magnus reported, "yet more slowly; lasses cannot appear and disappear."

"We'll be done with thee, then," Hugh snarled, and nodded to Bertram. The brute grinned and yanked the dagger back for a stab.

Gregory bleated and twisted; his brothers shouted as his body whiplashed, slamming the thugs who held him against the ground. Bertram's dagger stabbed into bare dirt.

Then a tearing scream pierced their ears, and a missile shot down from the sky to slam into Bertram, knocking him backwards. "Foul beast!" the ten-year-old witch cried. "Wouldst thou then slay babes?"

The other thugs roared and leaped for her—and lurched against something unseen, something that yanked them up to dangle, feet a foot off the ground, as their faces grew purple and they thrashed about in panic—but the only sound that emerged from their throats was a muted gargling.

Hugh stared up at them, pop-eyed; then he whirled and slammed a vicious backhand blow into Magnus's face, knocking him back and away. He yanked Gregory up against him, holding the boy in front of his chest and backing away, his own dagger in his hand. "Stay away! Do not seek to take me—or I'll slit his throat!"

Geoffrey's eyes narrowed, and a rock shot up off the forest floor to crack into Hugh's skull. His arm loosened as his eyes rolled up, and he slumped to the ground.

"Gregory! Art thou hurted?" Cordelia dove for her baby brother, cradling him in her arms; but he stared past her shoulder at the men dangling from the trees, fear and horror in his face. "Cordelia! What hath happed to them?"

Into the ring of hanging thugs strode an eighteen-inch elf, face white with rage. "Hear! Oh men of no heart—as I know thou canst for a minute more, ere thy breath ceases. 'Tis the Puck who doth stand before thee, and elves who ride the high branches above thee, with nooses braided of hundreds of strands of spiders' silk that thou canst see not!"

"Eh! Fell captain!" cried a voice from the leaves, and the children turned to see Kelly strutting on a limb by a small brown person who knelt, guarding an invisible twine. "Shall we harvest this rotting fruit, then?"

"Puck, do not slay them!" Cordelia cried. "They be evil men, yet surely not so evil as that!"

"Be not so certain." Geoffrey stood glaring up, pale and trembling. "They have fled from their brothers in arms. Surely such could do anything, no matter how foul."

But the thrashing was weakening, stilling, and the staring eyes dulled.

Puck nodded at Kelly. "Cut them down."

The Irishman nodded at the brownies, and the thugs fell with a crash.

Foot-high elves popped up next to them, slashing with tiny knives, and the deserters'

chests rose, slowly.

"They live." Puck spat. "Though I regret it. Still, I would not afright thee too greatly."

"I thank thee," Cordelia breathed, and Gregory, huddled next to her, nodded.

The elf stumped over to the unconscious Hugh, eyes hidden in a scowl. "He doth lie senseless, children, yet I've no doubt thou canst peer within his mind. Do thou find the pic-tures of the men who have bribed these villains to slay thee."

The children crowded around, and Cordelia frowned down at Hugh's face.

They waited, poised; the image appeared in her mind, and the others saw it, then sat back with a sigh.

"'Tis the slight ones," Magnus said, "the old ones with scant hair and burning eyes."

Gregory nodded. "They who seek to abolish all governance."

"As indeed they must be," Geoffrey said, "and have gone far already in so doing." He shuddered. "Only think! That governance could be so far decayed as for soldiers to desert their stations!"

Chapter 6

They set off into the moonlit wood, Puck leading the way with Cordelia right behind him on her unicorn. Kelly brought up the rear, on its rump. "Wherefore," said he, "should I then walk?"

"And thou hast the gall to excoriateme for lack of industry," Puck snorted.

But half an hour into the woods, the unicorn suddenly stopped, lifting her head and looking off toward the east.

Geoffrey frowned. "What ails her?"

"I think that she doth hear summat that we cannot." Puck cupped his ear, listening. Then he shook his head. "An she doth, it escapes me quite. What sayest thou, Horseface?"

"A moment, while I boost amplification." Fess lifted his head, ears turned in the direction the unicorn was pointing. "I do hear cries. They are very high-pitched, and faint with distance."

" 'High-pitched'?" Puck scowled. "And of interest to a unicorn? That hath the sound of Wee Folk in need of aid. Come, children! Let us seek!"

The children didn't need persuading.

They wound through the woods for half an hour, with Puck dodging around the roots of shrubs and through gaps in the underbrush, and Fess following him, to beat down a path. Behind him came the unicorn, with her nostrils flaring, and white showing all around her eyes.

Finally, the children could hear the cries too. They were very high, as Fess had said, and sounded very distressed. As they came closer, the children could understand the words: "A rescue! A rescue!"

"Help us! Aid, good folk!"

"There is, at least, no present danger," Cordelia said. "There's unhappiness in those words, but nogreat fear."

"Then let us find them ere it comes," Magnus said.

"'Tis here!" Puck cried.

The children stopped, startled, for the voices had still been so faint that they had thought them some distance away. But Puck dove into the underbrush almost under Fess's nose and started pulling back branches. The unicorn let out a musical neigh and pushed forward, pawing at the bushes and fallen leaves. Between them, they uncovered a small iron cage, with two foot-high people in it. They were clothed in green, the one decorated with flowers, the other with red, yellow, and orange leaves. They looked up with children's faces, and cried with delight when they saw the unicorn.

" 'Tis one of the Silver People!"

"Greeting, Velvet One! What good chance brings thee?"

The unicorn whickered softly, butting her nose against the cage.

"She wants them out." Cordelia knelt by the cage, and the two fairies fell silent, staring up at her, wide-eyed. "Oh, fear me not! I wish thee no hurt!"

"'Tis but a lass," the flowered one said to her sister, in a high, clear voice.

"Aye! A bairn would not wish us ill!" The leafy one turned back to Cordelia.

"I am Fall, and here is my sister, Summer."

Summer dropped a curtsy. She was chubby and ruby-cheeked, with a smile that seemed as though it could never fade.

"I am Cordelia." The girl bobbed her head in lieu of a curtsy, since she was already kneeling. "What is this horrid contrivance that houses thee?"

"Why, 'tis a rabbit's trap." Puck sauntered up. "How now, sprites! What coneys art thou, to be caught in so rude a snare?"

"As much as thou art a lob, to stand there and jibe without loosing us," Fall retorted. She was slender and supple, with short-cropped brown hair.

"A hare was caught within," Summer explained. "We could hear its frantic thumpings, and we took sticks to pry the door up and free it."

"Most kindly done." Puck grinned. "And did it lock thee in, for thanks?"

"Nearly," Fall confessed. "We held up the door, and the hopper thumped on out—but as it fled, one great hind foot caught me in the middle, and sent me sprawling. My sister could not keep the door up alone."

"It crashed down on me, most shrewdly," Summer sighed, "and we were trapped within."

"But what manner of trap is this, that can hold a fairy?" Cordelia asked.

"One of Cold Iron," Puck snorted. "What fools were they, to risk such capture!"

"And what a knob art thou, to stand and mock us!" Fall jammed her tiny fists on her hips, glaring at him.

'Truly, Puck!" Cordelia reproached him. "'Tis most unkind of thee! Hast thou no care for others' feelings?"

"Why, none! Or canst thou truly believe that they'd be thereby injured?"

"Nay, certes they would! Unkind words too oft give hurt!"

"Nay, not to mem. Say, ask!"

Cordelia turned a questioning glance on the two fairies.

A slow, grudging grin grew on Fall's face. "I cannot deny it. His teasing doth not trouble me."

"Nor I," her sister smiled, "so long as we may chide him in return."

"As bad as children," Cordelia proclaimed with every ounce of her ten-year-old dignity.

"And as careless of time as a grown-up." Geoffrey frowned, glancing about him. "Whosoe'er set this trap, will shortly come to search it. Ought we not to set them free?"

"Aye, at once!" Cordelia fumbled with the trap. "Yet how doth it open?"

"Ye've but to lift," Geoffrey snorted. He knelt down, pressed a catch, and lifted the door. The two fairies darted out and swirled up into the air on gossamer wings, caroling with joy. "Free! Free!"

"Ah, the blessed air!"

"And the cursed Cold Iron." Puck glowered at the trap. "How comes this, elf? Must the folk of thy woods forever be using traps of steel?"

"Nay, or the Wee Folk would torment them sore." Kelly stumped up beside him, glowering at the cage. "Our trappers here use wooden boxes when they wish to take their prey alive, or, if they do not, then snares of cord that slay in a moment."

"Then there's a hunter newly come unto thy woods," Puck said grimly, "or an old one who's taken up new ways." He turned to Summer and Fall. "Ward thee, fairies—for I misdoubt me an some souls do be preaching disregard of Wee Folk unto all the parish."

"And disregard of animals' suffering," Kelly agreed. "Beware—mayhap more traps of iron dot yer forest."

"An they do, they'll be quickly buried," Fall promised.

"Never fear—we'll broadcast word," Summer affirmed. "And we thank thee, mortals." She dropped a curtsy to Geoffrey and Cordelia. "We owe thee favor now."

Cordelia exchanged an excited glance with Geoffrey. To have fairies owing them favors!

"If ever thou hast need," Fall agreed, "only call, anywhere throughout this Isle of Gramarye, and Wee Folk will fly to aid thee."

"That doth not mean their aid will suffice." Puck fixed the children with a gimlet glare. "Thou shouldst not therefore court danger."

"Be sure, we'll not," Cordelia said, round-eyed.

Puck didn't say a word; he only bent a stern glance on Geoffrey.

The boy glared back at him, then looked away, then back again. "Oh, as thou wilt have it! Nor will I court danger, neither!"

"'Tis well." Puck nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Summer and Fall.

"But we will seek. Some mortal doth speak for Cold Iron in the elves' demesne—

and that we'll not abide. Nay, we must seek him out, and school him. Children, come!"

He turned, striding off through the forest.

The children stared at his upright, determined back in total surprise. Then Geoffrey grinned and started after the elf.

Magnus looked down at Gregory, then grinned and hoisted the little boy to ride before him. Gregory squealed with delight and thumped his heels against Fess's sides. The great black beast seemed to sigh.

Cordelia followed all of them on her unicorn, singing softly, "A-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go…"

Chapter 7

As they traveled along the forest path, Geoffrey glowered behind at Cordelia, swaying gently on the unicorn's back and singing happily as she plaited a wreath of flowers. The two fairies rode with her, chatting. But Magnus kept an eye on his younger brother, and was well aware that his scowl was deepening and his mood darkening. After a little while, he turned to Puck. "It hath been some few hours that we've been afoot, Robin. I do grow a-hungered."

Geoffrey looked up sharply. "Aye! Food, good Puck! I shall find it, and gladly! Let us rest and dine!"

Fess glanced up at the leafy canopy and calculated the time from the light.

"The sun will rise soon. Stop and rest—and find whatever is about that may be edible."

Geoffrey whooped and disappeared into the leaves. They rustled for a second or two; then none but the songbirds knew he existed—and even they might not have been sure.

Cordelia slid down from the unicorn's back. "Eh! What berries may I find nearby, good Summer?"

"Raspberries, mayhap. Come, and I shall show thee!"

Gregory sat down, leaned back against a tree. In three breaths, his eyes closed and his head nodded forward.

Puck smiled. "I had thought as much. 'Twas little sleep thou hadst this night past."

"Naetheless, Geoffrey will not wish to nap," Magnus warned.

Puck shrugged impatiently. "He never doth; he fears some part of life will pass him by, the whiles he sleeps. Even so, he hath need of slumber."

"Aye—he doth grow sullen. I think that he doth aim this secret anger at Cordelia's unicorn."

Fess agreed. "Yes. Because it allows her to ride, but will not let him near."

"That could breed trouble," Magnus mused.

Puck shot him a keen glance. "Thou wilt be a wise captain some day, youngling. 'Tis even as thou sayest—thou must needs find some way to quench his envy, or he'll wreak havoc."

"'Tis as I've thought," Magnus admitted, "yet I can see no way to it. The unicorn will not abide him near. What can I do?"

"Thou hast not seen it, then?" Puck grinned. "Seek within the terms of the situation, lad. The unicorn will not allow him near—yet doth it bear him ill?"

"Nay," Magnus said slowly, "not while he doth keep his distance."

Puck nodded, waiting.

"So," Magnus mused, "I must find some way for the beast to pay him heed, though he cometh not nigh."

Puck broke into a broad grin. "Thou hast the right of it. Now thou hast but to find the way."

Magnus found it as they finished breakfast.

As they ate, he sat there, looking about him, trying to find something to pull Geoffrey out of his black jealousy. The younger boy was a bit better, now that Cordelia had climbed down off her high horse long enough to gather a quart of berries and join them for roast partridge; but Magnus knew it would be just as bad, just as quickly, when she mounted again, and Geoffrey had to watch her riding. He could fly, of course, or ride Fess, but that was boring now. Riding a unicorn was something new.

Magnus eyed the unicorn, standing thirty-feet away, nibbling at some leaves.

Then, as he turned back to his brothers and sister, his gaze fell on the wreaths Cordelia had plaited, resting on her head and on those of the fairies. The idea hit, and Magnus slowly grinned. "Cordelia—wilt thou lend me thy wreath?"

The girl looked up warily. "What wouldst thou do with it?"

"Naught but to play a game."

Cordelia eyed him, not trusting the simplicity of his claim —but she couldn't see anything wrong with it, so she held out the stack of wreaths with a glare.

Magnus caught them up and, with a gleeful whoop, flipped one sailing toward the unicorn.

She looked up, startled, poised to flee—and saw the wreath skimming through the air toward her. She whinnied,

ducked to aim her horn, and caught the flower loop with a toss of her head.

"Nay!" Cordelia cried, leaping to her feet. " 'Tis not fair!"

But Magnus was flipping wreaths to Geoffrey and Gregory, and the unicorn was swinging her head around in a circle, making the wreath spin around her horn, then suddenly ducked, and the flower ring sped back toward Magnus. He caught it with a yelp of delight. "I had not thought she could toss back to me!"

"Play with me, too!" Gregory cried, and spun his wreath through the air toward the unicorn.

"Nay, 'tismy turn!" Geoffrey insisted, and his wreath went flying, too.

Gregory's ring flew wide; he was a little short on motor development, but the unicorn dashed to the left and caught it anyway. Then, with a leap, she was back where she had been, to catch Geoffrey's wreath and rear up, pawing the air with a triumphant whinny.

"No! Nay, now! Give back my wreaths!" Cordelia shouted.

"Peace, lass," Puck counseled. "They do but play, and will give thee back thy wreaths when they are done."

"But they will have torn them to shreds!"

"And if they do, what of it? Thou mayest weave more quite easily."

"Oh, thou dost not comprehend, Robin! Ooh! They make me so angered!"

"Aye, certes," Puck said softly. "Why, 'tis thy unicorn, is't not?"

"Aye! How dare they play with her!"

"Why dost thou not join also?" Puck asked. "If she can play with three, she can most certainly play with four."

"But they have no right to play with her at all! She ismine !"

"Nay, now. There, I say nay." Puck shook his head. "She is a wild and free thing, child, and though she may befriend thee, that doth not give thee ownership over her. Never think it, for if she doth feel constrained, she will flee from thee."

Cordelia was silent, glaring at her brothers, growing angrier and angrier at their whoops of glee.

"She doth prance to catch each ring," Summer piped up, "and her eyes sparkle. She whinnies with delight. Nay, if I mistake me not, this unicorn doth rejoice to play at ring-toss

thus—so long as thy brothers keep their distance."

Cordelia's glower lessened a bit.

"You," Fess pointed out, "are the only one who can go close to the beast.

Why not, therefore, let your brothers have what little pleasure she'll permit them?"

"'Twould be most generous of thee to allow it," Summer agreed.

Cordelia's glower was almost gone now.

"Show them thou dost grudge them not their sport," Fall urged.

"Why, how may I do that?"

"Play," the fairy answered.

Cordelia stood, wavering.

"What!" Kelly cried. "Will ye have them gaming with yer unicorn, while ye yerself do not?"

Cordelia's lips firmed with decision. She caught up a handful of flowers.

"I have one plaited for thee." Summer thrust a wreath into her hand.

"I thank thee, good Summer!" Cordelia dashed forward, tossing her ring backhanded toward the unicorn. The silver animal saw, and caught it with a neigh of delight, then sent it spinning back.

Summer heaved a sigh of relief.

"Aye," Puck agreed. "'Twas a near thing, that—but we have them all a-play together."

"And the lass will not turn away from the unicorn in angered jealousy." Fall beamed.

"A steaming kettle of nonsense," Kelly muttered. "Wherefore must these mortals be so obstinate?" Nonetheless, he, like the other three, gazed at the playing children with a smile of satisfaction. In fact, they were so taken with the sight that they didn't notice the four brawny men slipping from tree trunk to tree trunk all around the clearing, coming closer and closer to the children.

They drifted up as silently as the wind in the brush, till they stood just behind the first rank of trees—burly men in livery, with steel caps and ring-mail jerkins, watching the children, poised to spring.

Cordelia decided to assert her position as resident unicorn-friend, and skipped up toward her, holding up her ring of flowers. "Here, O Silver One! I shall not hurl this, but give it thee!"

The nearest man leaped out, sprinting toward her.

Just then, Geoffrey tossed a wreath a little too far to the side. The ungenerous might have thought he intended to hit Cordelia with it.

But the unicorn didn't. It spun and leaped, tossing its head to catch the ring on its horn.

The soldier gave a shout of triumph as he pounced on Cordelia.

The unicorn's horn slashed through his jerkin. Blood welled out of his arm.

The man shrank back with a bleat of terror, pale and trembling at such a close brush with death.

"Footpad!" Geoffrey howled in anger. "A vile villain come to seize our sister!

Brothers, rend him!"

But the trees and bushes all around them erupted, armed men boiling out of them with blood-curdling battle cries, leaping toward the children and catching them up with yells of triumph. Gregory squalled, and Cordelia shrieked with rage. But Geoffrey clamped his jaw shut, narrowed his eyes for better aim, and sent his wreath sailing right into the face of Cordelia's captor.

The soldier was startled; his hold loosened, and Cordelia twisted free.

Magnus's wreath skimmed into the face of Gregory's cap-tor. It was a rose wreath, with thorns. The man bellowed in pain, and dropped Gregory, who shot up like a rocket and disappeared into the leaves above. Geoffrey's captor saw and blanched, just before Cordelia's wreath struck him on the brow. Geoffrey shot away from him to land beside Cordelia. "Thou hadst no need to aid! I would have had him kneeling in an instant!"

"Ever the mannerly gentleman, thou," she scoffed.

The last soldier tightened his hold on Magnus. "Thy wreaths shall avail thee naught—I shall not loose my hold!"

Magnus glanced down at the man's feet. A creeper nearby unwound itself from the base of a sapling and writhed over to the soldier, winding up around his mailed leg, then yanking hard. He shouted a startled oath, lurching back, then caught his balance—but for a moment, his hands loosened, and Magnus sprang free.

The first soldier shouted in anger and leaped at Cordelia again.

The unicorn sprang forward, head down, horn stabbing. The man leaped aside with a shout of fear, and the silver horn

scored a trail of blood across his cheek. He dodged back, drawing his sword; but the unicorn danced before him, parrying his lunges and thrusting at him, driving him back.

"Wouldst thou hurt her then?" Cordelia cried. "Vile wretch! Have at thee!"

His sword wrenched itself out of his hand and flipped about to dance in front of his face. He paled and backed away, until he bumped into a tree trunk and could go no further. Nearby, three more soldiers fell under the hooves of the great black horse.

Another soldier bellowed and lunged at Geoffrey. The lad disappeared with a bang and reappeared a second later behind the soldier, jamming a knee against the back of his neck and an arm across his throat. The soldier turned purple, gargling and clawing at Geoffrey's arm, then yanked and bowed, sending the boy tumbling through the air. He didn't land, of course—he only soared up higher, yanking a rotten fruit from a tree and hurling it down at the soldier as he cried, "Cordelia!

Mount and ride! We may not retreat whiles thou dost remain!"

"Wherefore retreat?" she retorted. "Let us stay and knock them senseless!"

"For once, he hath the right of it." Puck stood by her knee. "Thou mayest prevail—or they may take thee unawares, one by one, and capture thee all. Flee, damsel! Or dost thou wait to see one hurl a spear through thy unicorn?"

Cordelia gasped in horror and whirled to leap onto the unicorn's back.

"Quickly, my sweet! Leave these swinish men far behind!"

The unicorn reared, whinnying, then leaped out and sprang into a gallop, dodging away between the trees so lithely that she seemed to dart through their trunks.

"One hath escaped, Auncient!" a soldier cried.

"We shall follow and find!" the biggest soldier answered. "Seize these!"

" 'Tis not likely," Geoffrey retorted, and more rotten fruit came plunging off the tree. The soldiers leaped aside, but the fruits veered to follow them, and landed in their faces with a gooey sound.

"Be off, while they're blinded!" Puck cried. "Retreat, lads! Avoid!"

"Wherefore?" Geoffrey's eyes glittered with excitement as he landed; his whole body was tensed for battle. "Dost truly think they can stand against us?"

"Mayhap! Thou mayest lapse, thou mayest grow careless!"

"Yet we are not like to! Nay! Let us stay, and stretch them senseless on the greensward!"

"There is no need," Magnus pointed out, "and 'tis witless to hurt them when we need not."

Geoffrey hesitated.

"We shall brawl at thy side, when we must," Gregory piped, "as we have done already. Yet now, brother, I prithee —let us be gone, sin that we can!"

"Away!" Puck commanded. "Till we discover who hath sent them! Why seize the sheep, when thou mayest have the shepherd?"

The soldiers finished wiping the goo off their faces and strode forward.

"So be it, then," Geoffrey said with disgust. "We go!" He relaxed, straightening up, and disappeared with a bang. A double explosion echoed his, and the soldiers found themselves staring at one another over an empty clearing.

Gregory turned the spit slowly, eyes huge and mouth watering as he watched the roasting partridges growing brown.

"What word, Puck?" The firelight reflected off Magnus's face as he watched a tiny elf muttering into Puck's ear. The sprite darted away, and Puck sat up straight, nodding. "'Tis even as we thought."

Geoffrey nodded with satisfaction. "Their livery was in good repair, and their weapons bright. These were no renegades, but men-at-arms of some lord."

"And, their mission failed, they returned to their master," Magnus finished.

Puck nodded. "So indeed they did—but knew not that elfin eyes watched their every step." He grinned, preening. "I thought that I did know that livery."

"What is it then?"

"The lord's arms confirm it," Puck bragged. "He is Count Drosz, a nobleman of Hapsburg."

"Of Hapsburg?" Geoffrey frowned. "What doth he in Tudor?"

"Small good, belike," Cordelia opined.

"What dost thou think, Robin?" Magnus asked. "Doth he come to join Earl Tudor in some form of mischief?"

"Nay!" Geoffrey's eyes lit with excitement. "Belike he doth seek to join battle with Glynn, the lord of this county! Oh, Robin! A melee! Please, oh! I must follow, to watch!"

"Nay!" Puck recoiled, startled and horrified. "A lad of eight, near a battle?

'Tis too great a chance thou might be hurted!"

"Assuredly they'd not harm a child!"

Puck started to answer, then caught himself, and said only, "Thou knowest little of the ways of soldiers in wartime, lad. Nay. What should I say to thy father and mother, if thou didst come to harm?"

"But…!"

"Nay!" Puck snapped. "Let thy father escort thee near battle-lines if he will, when that he doth return! Let his conscience bear the chance of thine hurt, if he will

—but I will not risk it, whiles thou art in my care! Thou art not- my son, after all."

"Praise Heaven," Geoffrey muttered as Puck turned stamping away into the forest.

The elf turned back, frowning at the children. "Now come, follow me!"

"But," Gregory pointed out, "the soldiers have gone in the other direction."

"Thou hast noticed," Puck said dryly. "Come."

Chapter 8

A little after sunrise, they came out of the forest into a meadow dotted with wildflowers. "How pretty!" Cordelia exclaimed; then, "Yon is a footpath!"

Off to their right, a dusty track wound down the slope toward the fields below.

"And people beyond it." Magnus squinted from his vantage point on Fess's back. "Eh, but they're awake betimes!"

"Country people rise before the sun," Fess informed them. "May I suggest the unicorn seek a more discreet route?"

"But why?" Cordelia cried.

Puck shook his head. "I must own the iron beast hath the right of it. Bethink thee, child, what mortal men, full grown, would seek to do with such a creature."

Cordelia stared, her eyes widening. "Surely thou dost not mean they would wish to enslave her!"

"Aye, certes they would—and would try to steal her from one another."

Geoffrey smiled with tolerance for his sister's innocence. "And the creature might be slain in the fighting."

Cordelia leaped down from the unicorn's back as though it were a hot griddle. "Oh, I could not bear it!" She caught the great silver head between her hands and stroked the muzzle. "I could not bear to have thee hurted! Nay, my love, my jewel! Go thou, and hide thee! Be assured, we'll meet again when we come back to this forest."

But the unicorn tossed her head as though scorning danger.

"Nay, I beg of thee!" Cordelia pleaded. "Hide thee! Thou knowest not how vile some men may be!"

Puck smiled, with a cynicism that softened into fondness.

The unicorn gazed into Cordelia's eyes. Then she tossed her head, turning, and trotted back into the forest.

"Will I see her again, thinkest thou, Puck?"

"Who may say?" Puck said softly. "Such creatures are wild and free; no man may summon them, nor no young lass, neither. They come when they wish." He turned to smile up at

Cordelia. "Yet I think this one will wish it."

He turned away. "Now, come! Let's trace this track that thou hast found!"

They went down a slope glorious with blossoms. As they neared the bottom, they passed a stile, a set of stairs that went up one side of a wall and came down the other, so that people could cross, but cattle could not. A pretty peasant girl was leaning against the stile with a mocking smile, gazing up through half-lowered eyelashes at a young farmhand who stood, rigid with anger, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Nay, then, Corin," the peasant girl purred. "How durst thou think that I might spare a glance for one who's craven?"

Magnus and Geoffrey stopped to stare at the girl. "Why, she is beautiful,"

Magnus breathed.

Geoffrey swallowed heavily.

Cordelia looked at them as though they'd taken leave of their senses. So, for that matter, did Gregory.

"Craven?" Corin exploded. "Nay! I'm as brave as any man! Show me any foe, and I will fight him!"

"Foe?" she scoffed. "Nay, walk into the greenwood! Go into the hills! Stride down any highway! Thy foes will leap to meet thee—bandits, thieves, and outlaws!

'Tis come to be so bad as that! Any man who's restless, or hath an ounce of mettle, doth break the law, and runneth off to hide and thieve —and leaveth wife and children to the care of those dull males who have no daring!"

Puck had hidden in the heather near Magnus's foot, but the children could hear him growl, "Assuredly, 'tis never so bad as that!"

" 'Tis not a word of truth!" Corin bawled. " 'Tis not needful for a man to work evil, only because he's a man! Nay, there's strength required to stay and ward, and. care for those ye love!"

"Love?" the girl sneered. "I spit on that which you call love! Oh, caring there may be—but there's naught of thrill nor joy within it!"

Corin stepped toward her, hands outstretched, palms up. "If thou didst love me, thou wouldst see the error of thy words."

"An I did love thee," she spat, "I would needs be as dull as thou! Nay, how could I love a man who'd leave his wife and ' bairns in threat of pillaging?" >

"I would never do so!" Corin cried.

"Yet thou dost! Thou dost permit these bandits to roam wild throughout the hills! Thou dost give leave to highway-men to rob and beat whomsoe'er they please!

Nay, no woman's safe to walk abroad now by herself! Within these two days gone, three lasses that I know have suffered, and a dozen men have run off to the hills.True men." Her eyes glittered as she looked directly into his. "Not mere boys."

"In only two days' time?" Puck snorted. "Such could never hap so quickly."

But Fess's voice sounded inside their heads:It could, if the High Warlock's enemies were fully prepared to accomplish such disorder, and were only waiting for his disappearance to unleash their agents .

Corin had reddened. "Thou dost wrong me, sweet Phebe! What could I do to halt them? At the least, I stay to guard the village!"

"And assuredly, thou wilt repel them when they come against us," she said with sarcasm.

"What else might I do?" he cried.

"Why, join the Shire-Reeve and march behind his banner! Go to fight for him, and capture or put down these outlaws who would prey on us! That is what thou mayest do—and might have, these three days past! Yet I misdoubt me an thou wilt, for there'd be danger! Only real men, who can conquer fear, will fight for him!"

Corin's face finned with resolution. He straightened, squaring his shoulders.

"Thou dost wrong me, Phebe. I will go unto him straightaway—and thou shalt see how little I do fear!"

"Brave lad!" she cried, and leaped forward to seize his face and give him such a kiss as he had likely never had—a kiss both long and lasting; and, when she stepped back, he gasped for air, and seemed quite dazed.

"Go now," she cooed, "and show me what a man may earn!"

He nodded, not quite focusing, and turned away to drift on up the pasture lane between plowed fields, off toward the highway.

Phebe watched him go—and as she did, her face hardened, and her eyes glittered with contempt.

"And such, I doubt not, hath she done to half the lads of the village," Puck muttered, unseen.. "Kelly, go! Find near elves, and tell them to ask for news: Hath banditry truly begun so horribly in only two days' time? And discover, too, if other maids have done as she hath."

"I go," the leprecohen's voice crackled. "Begorra! If such as she taunts men to this Shire-Reeve's army, we'll know what to do with him!"

But Magnus was drifting toward Phebe, and Geoffrey was following as though an invisible string drew him.

Magnus cleared his throat. "Your pardon, but we have heard what thou hast said. Tell, we pray, who is this Shire-Reeve thou speakest of?"

Phebe whirled about in surprise, then smiled, amused. "Why, child! Knowest thou not what a reeve is?"

"Aye," said Magnus, " 'tis the man who doth tend to all the King's business in a district. A shire-reeve is one who doth take the King's taxes and levy low justice for a whole shire; and he must put down bandits if the barons do not."

"There! Thou didst know it, straightway," Phebe laughed. "Yet our Shire-Reeve is somewhat more—for look you, he is Reeve of Runnymede; and he hath seen that even in the King's own shire, Their Majesties cannot keep down bandits and highwaymen. Nay, even more—they cannot keep their kingdom in peace and order! Ever must the King's army be inarching and countermarching, trampling through the hard-grown crops and levying stores of provender that we peasant folk put by for winter, to be putting down rebellions, and those who would unseat Their Majesties from their thrones. In but the last two days the Counts of Llewellyn and Glynn have taken it into their heads to take more land into their counties —and have not thought it needful to ask a by-your-leave of Their Majesties! So they do call up all their knights, who call their peasants away from their fields, and this with the summer haying hard by, to go make war upon each other! And what do Their Majesties do, what?"

"I know not." Geoffrey gazed up at her, entranced. "What do they?"

"Why, naught, little one," she said, with a silvery laugh. "They do naught!

And our good Shire-Reeve hath grown weary of such lawlessness. Nay, he hath risen up in righteous wrath, and hath declared that the King hath failed to govern. '

And, saith he, an the King will not wield the law to keep the peace, our Reeve will, himself! 'Tis for this he doth gather lads for his armed band—that he may, by force of arms, put down these bandits, and make the roads once again so safe that a woman may walk them alone. Already hath he sallied 'gainst an outlaw band and broken them—and daily do more young lads flock to his banner!"

"Small wonder," Cordelia muttered, "an they do encounter lasses like to thee!"

"Why 'tis glorious!" Geoffrey shouted. "Let us join with this Shire-Reeve! Let us, too, go forth to do battle with evil-doers and outlaws! Let it be said of us that we, too, did aid in restoring the peace!"

"I had not known it had fallen so badly," Cordelia said dryly.

"Only since Mama and Papa went away," Gregory reminded.

Magnus's gaze stayed glued to Phebe's face, but he gave his head a little shake and blinked. "Nay, tell me—what difference is there between what this Shire-Reeve doth and what the counts do? Is he not also making war, and disturbing the peace?"

Phebe frowned. "Oh, nay! He doth restore the peace!"

"By making battle?" Gregory asked.

Phebe's face darkened.

"I cannot help but think that he doth behave as badly as the counts," Magnus agreed. "Tell—doth he, too, not seek to increase the territory he doth govern? Doth he, too, not attempt to bring more villages under his sway?"

"He doth push farther and farther afield 'gainst the bandits, that's true," Phebe said, frowning. "Is this conquest?"

"Certes," Geoffrey said automatically, and Magnus said, "Battleis battle. The clash of arms and the toll of the dead is noise and destruction, whether it be thy Shire-Reeve who doth command, or the counts."

"I would rather have peace lost from armies than from bandits," Phebe declared hotly.

"I cannot like any man who fights our King and Queen," Cordelia declared,

"no matter how the cause they claim doth glitter with goodness. He who fights not for Their Majesties, fights against the Law they seek to uphold." She turned to Geoffrey. "Join him? Nay, brother. If aught, thou shouldst join battle against him, and work his downfall."

Geoffrey frowned. "Dost thou truly think so?" He shrugged. "Well, then, as thou wilt. I'll not contest, when thou and Magnus do agree—the more especially when Greg-ory is of a mind with the two of thee."

Phebe gave a nasty laugh. "Hast thou no mind of thine own, then?"

"Only for matters that interest me. For affairs of state, I care not, so long as there be battle and glory within it. Nay, I'd as liefer fight against thy Shire-Reeve as for him."

Phebe laughed again, but in disbelief. "Nay, assuredly thou mayest do as thou wilt! Go, bear thy swords of lath against the Shire-Reeve! For what matter can mere children make, when armies clash?"

Cordelia's face darkened, and her chin came up. "Mayhap more matter than thou canst know, when those children are the High Warlock's brood."

Phebe stared. Then, slowly, she said, "Aye, they might, an they were such highborn children. Art thou truly they?"

Gregory tugged at Cordelia's skirt. "What is 'highborn'?"

"A deal of nonsense that grown folk speak," she answered impatiently.

"'Tis only the highborn who can think so." Phebe frowned, stroking the pouting fullness of her lower lip.

Abruptly, she seemed to come to a decision. Her face cleared, and she beamed down at the children. "Nay, surely, two fellows so brave as thyselves must needs strengthen any army! Wilt thou not, then, come with me to the Shire-Reeve?"

Her voice was velvet and silk; her heavily-lidded eyes seemed to glow into theirs. She stretched out a hand in welcome.

Magnus and Geoffrey stared at her, their eyes fairly bulging.

"Come, then," Phebe breathed, "for I am of his army, too."

Magnus took one wooden step toward her. So did Geoffrey.

"Nay!" Cordelia cried. "What dost thou? Canst not see the falseness in her?"

"Be still, small hussy," Phebe hissed.

But her brothers seemed not even to hear her. They moved toward Phebe—

slowly, almost stumbling, but moving. She nodded in encouragement, eyes glowing.

Inside the children's heads, Fess's voice said, "Beware, Magnus, Geoffrey!

The woman uses her beauty as she would use you!"

"Why, she cannot use us, if we fight willingly," Geoffrey muttered.

Gregory threw himself toward them, catching Geoffrey's hand. "What spell is this? Nay, turn! How hath she entranced thee?"

"Knowest thou not?" Phebe breathed. "Thou, too, art male, though very young. Wilt thou, too, not come to fight for the Shire-Reeve?"

"Nay, never!" Gregory stated. "What hast thou done?"

"Thou'lt learn when thou art older, I doubt not," Phebe said with scorn.

"Away! Thou hast no worth yet! But thy brothers…" She gazed at the two elder boys, running the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. "They will come to me." She held out both hands. Gazing up at her, Magnus took one. Geoffrey took her other hand. Smiling in triumph, she turned away, strolling down the footpath with Magnus and Geoffrey to either side. She spared one quick, scornful glance back over her shoulder at Cordelia.

The forsaken sister clenched her fists. "Oh! The hussy! Quickly, Gregory!

We cannot let her take our brothers!"

"But how can we stop them?" Gregory asked.

"I know not! Oh! What manner of witchcraft is this, that I have never heard of?"

"Nor never will, from the look of thee," Phebe called maliciously. But the path seemed to explode in front of her, and she pulled back with a cry of alarm.

"Puck," Magnus muttered.

Phebe cast him a quick look of horror, then stared at the elf in the pathway in front of her. "It cannot truly be!"

"Yet it is!" Puck leveled a finger at her. "And I adjure thee, witch, to break this spell! Release these boys, ere thou dost rue it!"

The threat seemed to restore Phebe a little. She straightened, looking down her nose at him. "What glamour is this!-There be no elves, nor any spirits! Thou mayest cease thine enchantment, child—I'll not believe it!" And she stepped forward on the pathway.

"Hold!" Puck's voice was a whiplash. "Ere I give thy body the semblance of thy soul, and make thy face the image of thy virtue!"

The girl blanched. "Thou couldst not truly!"

"Could I not, then?" The Puck's eyes glittered. "And art thou not the harpy who doth delight in tormenting men? What semblance wilt thou have, then?"

Slowly, Phebe's eyelids drooped, and her full lips curved into their smile.

Magnus and Geoffrey stared up at her, spellbound, but her gaze was now for Puck.

"Thou art male," she purred, "and great of spirit, though small of stature. Nay, then, canst thou not imagine my delights?"

Puck snorted in derision. "Nay, nor can I think thou hast any! What! Canst thou truly think thyself the equal of a fairy lady? But look intomine eyes, lass, and learn what charms may be!"

And she was looking into his eyes, of course, to try to cast her spell over him

—but now she found that she could not break her gaze away.

"Now, regard," Puck said softly, coming closer. His eyes glittered as he sang,

"Golden slumbers kiss thine eyes! Do not wake till moon doth rise! Sleep, pretty wanton, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock her, rock her, lullaby!"

Her eyelids drooped, and kept on drooping. They closed, and she nodded, as Puck's voice went on in eldritch singing. Her head jerked up once, and she blinked, trying valiantly to stay awake—but Puck kept on singing, and her eyes closed. She sank to the ground, head pillowed on one arm, and her breast rose and fell with the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

Puck smiled down at her, gloating.

Then he turned to the two boys who stood staring dumbly down at the sleeping peasant maid, and clapped his hands in front of Magnus's face. "Waken!

What! Wilt thou let a woman lead thee by the nose?"

Magnus's head snapped up as he suddenly came out of his trance.

Puck had already turned to Geoffrey. "Wake! For thou hast lost thy battle ere it began!"

Geoffrey's head whiplashed; then his eyes focused on Puck. "Battle? What fight is this?"

"Why, the struggle for thy will, my lad! What! Wilt thou let a woman lead thee into fighting for a man thou knowest to be evil?"

Geoffrey's gaze darkened. "Nay! Never would I!"

"Yet thou didst!" Cordelia came up. "Thou didst, and only Robin's rescue did save thee from it!"

Geoffrey turned to her, hot words upon his tongue; but Puck said,

"Remember," and the boy froze, appalled as he suddenly remembered how he had let himself be caught.

Puck nodded, watching his face. "Aye. So easily wast thou mastered."

"It will never happen again!"

But Magnus, more carefully, said, "I pray not."

"Pray strongly, then—for any man may be caught by women's beauty, and few are the men who have not been. Yet not 'men,' neither, for that man is not a man, who may be so entranced by a woman that, at one sight of her, he doth forget all that he hath undertaken, all that he doth strive to do, all duty that remains. Nay, an he doth, then the woman hath mastered him—and how can he then be a man?"

But Cordelia had a gleam in her eye. "'Tis a power to be desired."

"Aye, for a lass—but 'tis one to be proof against, for a man. There be many good women, yet there be many also like to this Phebe, who will very willingly use their charms to govern men, an they can—so be not overly concerned with the pleasures they promise."

Cordelia frowned, looking as though she wasn't too sure she liked this line of talk. She couldn't really object to it, given the provisos Puck had stipulated; but she could set the record straight. "'Tis a foul slut, belike." She wasn't sure what a slut was, but she'd heard grown-ups use the term, and knew that it was an insult. "Yet though this Phebe hath a certain tawdry sort of prettiness, it cannot be the sole source of her power."

Puck agreed. "There's truth in that. She is a common milkmaid, look you, and, though she is attractive, I've seen far more beauteous women among the ranks of mortal females."

"Doubtless there is some element of the projective telepath in her, too," Fess said. "She is quite probably a minor witch, though she knows it not—an esper who can project her own thoughts effectively enough to hyponotize instantly. And, since she thinks her greatest strength is her physical attraction, her projective ability is naturally linked to it. Thus her effect on men is mesmerizing, both literally as well as figuratively."

"What doth he say?" Geoffrey asked.

"That she is an enchantress," Gregory summarized!

Geoffrey cast him a look of annoyance, but he couldn't argue.

"Yet surely she's enough a hazard so that the knight who rules this parish would stop her," Magnus insisted. "How cometh she to be yet free to work such havoc, Puck?"

"Why, for that she hath not begun it till two days agone," Puck sighed.

"Bethink thee, lad—from what she said, this Shire-Reeve whom she doth support, did begin his work directly after thy mother and father went wandering. Ere he can stop her, the parish knight must learn how she doth turn young men away from his service—and how is he to find that out, when all she doth is chat with them?"

"But can he not see that she doth twist them to her purpose?" Cordelia protested.

"There's no law 'gainst that, and if there were, I doubt me not there'd be few weddings. Nay, lass—our goodly knight must needs decide that teasing can be treason—which thou dost know, since thou hast seen it; but grown men would have trouble crediting it."

"Aye," Cordelia said. "They are puffed up with importance. How could they deign to notice so small a thing? It would quite make them seem much smaller than they wish to be."

Puck eyed her with a new respect. "Thou wilt be most dangerous, when thou art grown. Yet thou hast the right of it—men who are surfeited with their own importance, scarce can bring themselves to acknowledge things so small as jests and rumors. That's the reason whispers are so hard to guard against, and thus can do great damage."

Geoffrey frowned. "I do begin to comprehend. Papa hath told me that rumor can bring down armies."

"This may be one reason," Puck agreed. "Another is that within the featherbed of rumor, there's ofttimes a pea of truth, and who can tell what is and is not false? What proof is there that this Shire-Reeve doth not work for Their Majesties, and for the kingdom's good? Only what we ourselves have heard from this wench."

"And how could the knight credit what she doth say?" Cordelia murmured.

"She's but a milkmaid, and she speaks against the King's Reeve."

Puck nodded. "Thus, how's the knight to know the Shire-Reeve will speak him false? Or that thou wouldst speak truly?"

"Aye." Magnus's mouth tightened. "We're but children, and she and the Reeve are grown-ups."

"Yet wilt thou do better when thou art grown?" Puck asked.

"Be sure, I will!" Geoffrey stated. "Children or milkmaids, high or low, I'll hearken to them all, and give full thought to all I hear!"

Puck nodded, satisfied. "Now thou dost begin to comprehend. AH folk must be allowed to speak their minds, whether thou dost think them wise or foolish—and thou must weigh what they do say, on chance that the most unlikely of them may be right. Therefore thou must needs see it enshrined in the highest Law of the Land, as thy father doth seek to do. If thou dost not, evil men may keep good folk from learning of their evil deeds."

"Why, how shall they do that?" Magnus questioned.

"By punishing all who speak against them in even the slightest way," Puck explained. "If thou dost let the law prohibit certain words, then evil men will punish folk that they dislike, by claiming they did speak the words prohibited."

"So." Magnus frowned down at Phebe. "Much though we dislike what she hath done, we must not bind her over to the knight?"

"Nay, that thou mayest do—but thou canst not forbid her to speak, even though thou dost know that she will lie, and claim she did naught of what thou sayest. Thou must needsprove she did as thou dost say."

"Which we cannot, of course." Magnus's mouth tightened. "Yet is there naught we can do to keep her from working her havoc, Puck?"

"Why, warn all the lads of the village about her, of course." Puck grinned.

"And if they do heed thee, she'll have naught to do but rage."

"If," Cordelia said, darkly. "Can we do naught with her, then?"

Puck shrugged. "Leave her, and let her sleep. Come, children—let us seek out her commander."

"The Shire-Reeve?" Geoffrey grinned. "Nay, then! We'll have battle from him, one way or another!"

"Where does this Shire-Reeve quarter, then?"

Chapter 9

Magnus asked the question clearly enough, but his eyelids were drooping.

"In Luganthorpe village," Puck said, the light of the camp-fire flickering on his face. "'Tis but two hours' march, in the morning."

"What else have the elves said about him?" Cordelia stroked Gregory's hair, head pillowed in her lap. His eyes were closed; he was already asleep.

"Only that he doth gather his army of plowboys, even as Phebe did say,"

Puck answered, "and that he hath sallied forth against a pack of bandits in the hills."

"And be there truly so many bandits as she did say?" Geoffrey asked, between yawns.

"As many, and as quickly risen."

For a moment, Geoffrey came fully alert. "Such doth not happen without planning and readying."

"Nay, it doth not." Puck's eyes glittered. "There be some that have prepared these folk for thy parents' disappearance, children."

"Then we shall fight them!"

"That thou shalt not! 'Tis the King's place, not thine." Puck smiled. "Yet I think we may be of some small service to him…"

"Now—seize them!"

Rough hands grabbed the children; other hands whipped coils of rope around them, pinning their arms to their sides. An ugly man with a steel cap laughed into Cordelia's face. She recoiled at the reek of his breath.

A horse's scream, flashing hooves, and Fess was rearing, battering.at the steel breastplates. The men shouted in panic and leaped back.

*

"Nay!" one cried. "'Tis but a horse! Have at him!"

The others turned with shouts, two jabbing at Fess with pikes. Fess slashed at one, who leaped back; then the great horse whirled toward the other, slamming down with his full weight. The man skipped back, but a hoof grazed his shoulder and sent him spinning. Another leaped in to replace him.

"Haul those brats away!" the eldest shouted, and four other men hoisted the children.

Fess wheeled from one attacker, back toward the man holding Geoffrey, then pivoted toward the one holding Cordelia. While he did, a soldier stabbed upward with a pike. The point rang against the steel under Fess's horsehair, and the black stallion turned back toward him—but his movements had slowed. The children heard his voice in their heads:Sollldierzz… musst not take… children …

Abruptly, Fess's legs went stiff, and his head dropped down, swinging loosely from the neck, nose almost grazing the ground.

He hath had a seizure! Cordelia thought.

Ishall be revenged upon these scum who have hurt him ! Geoffrey's thoughts were dark with anger.

The soldiers braced themselves, eyeing the stilled horse with trepidation.

Then one reached out and thrust against Fess's shoulder. When the horse didn't respond, he thrust harder. Fess rocked back, but made no reaction. "Is it dead, then?' the soldier asked.

"We'll make it so." The other soldier swung his pike up to chop with the axe-blade.

"Away!" barked the oldest man. "'Tis a witch horse; leave it. Dost thou wish to have its ghost pursue thee?"

The soldier leaped back and crossed himself quickly.

The oldest man looked about the clearing to make sure everything was under control. He was a grizzled bear of a man in his fifties. "Dost thou have them, Grobin?" he called.

"Aye, Auncient! Though they have struggled some." Gro-bin came up, holding Geoffrey and Magnus kicking and squalling one under each arm. He chuckled. "Eh, they are mettlesome lads!"

"What shall I do with this one?" A hulking man in a steel cap and breastplate came up, tossing Gregory like a ball. The child wailed in terror.

Cordelia, Geoffrey, and Magnus's gazes snapped to the thug, and he came within a hairsbreadth of death that moment.

But he never knew it, for the grizzled bear of a man they called "Auncient"

said, "Why, take him to Milord Count, even as these others. Come!"

The soldiers slung the children over their shoulders as though they were bags of potatoes. Their steel-clad joints knocked the wind out of the children, but even as Geoffrey struggled for breath, his face hardened and his eyes lost focus. Magnus's thought echoed in his mind:Nay! They've done naught to merit death !

Geoffrey glared at him; but he held himself back.

Wherefore hath Puck not driven away these clods? Geoffrey demanded.

He must not see need enough, Magnus answered.

'Tis true… We are not harmed… But Geoffrey's thoughts were dark.

Peace, brother, Magnus consoled him.Thou wilt have free rein to work havoc, when we're sure these men work evil .

The soldiers trooped through patches of moonlight into a larger clearing nearby and brought the children up to a knot of horsemen. At their head sat a man in full armor, on a huge mount. As the soldiers came up, he lifted his visor. "Well done, Auncient."

"I thank you, Milord." The auncient touched his forelock in respect. "'Twas easily done, of course."

"What was that scream, and the shouting that followed it?"

"A war-horse sprang upon us—but he froze of a sudden, as though he'd been cursed." The auncient crossed himself. "Are there sorcerers in this wood, Milord?"

" 'Tis no matter, an they side with us." The nobleman was frowning down at the children. "What wast thou about, babes in the woods? How came ye here alone?"

A soldier shoved Magnus. He glared up at the nobleman. "We search for our parents."

A fist slammed into his ear, shooting pain with a loud crack. Through the ringing that followed it, he heard the auncient growl, "Speak with respect! Thou dost address the Count of Drosz!"

Magnus fought hard to control his temper and keep from hurling the knight off his horse with an unseen hand. It helped to promise himself that someday, the auncient would pay for that box on the ear—but it helped more to wonder at the nobleman's identity. "Drosz? But we are in theCountyofGlynn !"

"Well enough," Drosz said, with a grim smile. "He doth know his place in the countryside, if not in his rank."

"Wherefore hast thou come?" Geoffrey's gag had been removed, too.

"Why, to conquer Glynn's county." Drosz turned to Geoffrey with a contemptuous smile. "Why else would a nobleman be abroad in another's demesne?"

"But thy county is within Duke Hapsburg's lands, and we stand now within Earl Tudor's feif! Will not thy Duke bid thee hold, ere thou canst come to Glynn's castle?"

Drosz laughed. "Nay, foolish bairn! I am Hapsburg's vas-sal. Thus any land that I seize will enlarge his demesne!"

"Yet Tudor must needs then declare war on Duke Haps-burg," Geoffrey pointed out.

"And if he doth?" The count shrugged. "What matter?"

"Why, there will be battle!" Cordelia cried.

The count nodded. "There will."

The children stared at him, unnerved.He cares not a whit if he doth plunge two whole provinces into civil war ! Cordelia thought.

Aye, not a whit. Magnus glowered up at the count.Surely he doth know the death and suffering he will cause !

That matters naught, to him, Geoffrey explained.Naught, against the prospect of glory and power . Aloud, he said, "Surely Glynn left a home guard. Doth none oppose thee?"

"None," the count confirmed. "'Tis as though he hath disappeared from the face of the earth, and his family with him; and his knights, not knowing what to do, have lain down their arms."

Geoffrey stared, outraged. "Assuredly he would have given commands to defend!"

"Defend what? He is gone, and his wife and bairns with him! His knights have none to turn to for direction—and they have not the rank to deny another nobleman's commands. Nay, they do not oppose me, save one or two." He dismissed them with a wave of his gauntlet—which he had probably done.

"Then thou art master of this county, also," Magnus said. "Why hast thou wasted time seizing mere children?"

"Credit me with some sense, young one." The count's smile was brittle.

"There's not a nobleman in the land that doth not know the faces of the High Warlock's children."

The children were silent. The count chuckled, gloating, looking from one little face to another.

"Then!" Magnus spoke with anger. "Then an thou dost know our rank, wherefore hast thou permitted thy minion to strike me!"

"Why, for that thou art my prisoners now, and subject to me." The count lounged back in his saddle with a toothy grin.

Magnus's eyes narrowed. He wondered if the nobleman was only stupid, or really so rude and arrogant as to treat another nobleman's children with contempt.

"Well, then, we are thy prisoners." But the tone of his voice did not really acknowledge it. "What purpose can we serve in thy conquest?"

"Why, thou art hostages, ignorant child! And while I do hold thee, neither Earl Tudor, nor Duke Hapsburg, nor even King Tuan himself will dare to attack me, for fear of the powers of the High Warlock's brood!"

Magnus was silent, glaring at him. Then, just as Geoffrey started to speak, 'he said, "Thou mayest hold our bodies—but thou dost not command our powers."

The fist exploded against his ear again, and his head filled with the rough mocking laughter of the soldiers. Through the ringing, he heard the count gloating,

"Thou wilt do as thou art bid, boy!"

Magnus just barely managed to hold onto his temper—and that, only because he could tell Geoffrey was about to erupt.Nay ! he thought.There are too many of them! We cannot fight a whole army alone !

We cannot submit without fighting, either! his brother thought back in boiling rage.

Nor will we! Yet save thy power for the moment when it will suffice to topple them, the whiles they fight another army!

Geoffrey held himself in, but just barely. He glowered up at the Duke and thought,But will there be another army? Will there truly ?

Never doubt it, Magnus assured him; and,

Puck will see to it, Gregory added.

As though he had overheard, one of the knights moved his horse up next to Count Drosz's mount and advised, "My lord, hear me, I implore thee! 'Tis known far and wide that the Wee Folk do hold these children under their especial care!"

"What! A grown man, and thou dost yet believe in the power of the Little People?" Drosz scoffed. "Assuredly, Langouste, thou must needs know that elves can be no threat to we who are clad in Cold Iron!"

Langouste glanced over his shoulder with apprehension. "My lord, I implore thee! Do not scoff at the power of the Wee Folk!"

"Power?" Drosz laughed and scooped something out of his saddlebag. He held it up for Sir Langouste to see. "Behold the bane of the Little People, and the counter to all of their powers—a handful of nails! Common nails! They cannot even stand against these! See!" And he whirled, hurling the sharp iron points into the underbrush. A scream tore from the thicket, and another, and another, a dozen or more, all about them. As they faded, the children saw the count was laughing.

"Nay, then," he assured his men, "'tis even as thou dost see. These elves must quail before armed might. Any man who wears Cold Iron need not shrink from them."

Cordelia stood trembling, wide-eyed with horror, and Geoffrey was quaking with rage. Gregory stood like a statue, staring at the count.

But the nobleman only smiled, and turned his horse toward a gap in the trees, calling "Ride!" and trotted off into the night.

His men threw the children across their horses' backs in front of their saddles, and followed the count; but they were pale, glancing at one another with wide, apprehensive eyes.

The horses' backs jolted into the children's stomachs, driv-ing the wind out of them with every step; they had to gasp for air between hoofbeats. They gritted their teeth and bore the pain, while their thoughts flickered back and forth.

He hath injured a dozen elves at least, Cordelia thought, outraged,and may have slain some .

And he doth not respect his neighbor's demesne, Geoffrey added.He doth respect naught but force of arms .

There may be good within him, but we have not seen it, Magnus replied,and that which we have seen is vile. Canst thou bethink thee of any cause to spare this count ?

Nay!

Nay!

Nay!

We are agreed, Magnus thought, with the weight of a judge's sentence.We will await opportunity .

They jolted on down the trail, gasping for snatches of breath between hoofbeats, but every sense was wide open now, waiting for the opportunity. Trees blurred past on both sides, dark in the moonlight. Magnus turned his head, craning his neck to peer ahead, trying to see where they were going, but it was no use; the darkness was too complete in this leafy tunnel. Only scraps and patches of moonlight glinted through.

A roar shook the wood, and something huge and massive humped up from the forest floor right in front of the count. Red eyes burned through the darkness.

Horses screamed and reared, throwing their riders, trying to turn, trying to gallop away; but they slammed into each other in the confines of the trail, in panic.

The count fought his bucking, twisting horse to a standstill, crying, "Stand and fight! For whatever it is, it cannot stand against Cold Iron! Dismount and draw your swords!"

The few soldiers who hadn't been thrown leaped down; their comrades struggled to their feet, drawing their blades and staggering after the count, tripping on tree roots and stumbling in holes, but charging toward the hulking, roaring shape.

It saw them coming and bellowed, lashing out at the count with a huge dark paw; claws like scimitars slashed past him. His mount screamed and pawed the air, twisting away.

The soldiers lurched and tripped on something that heaved upward against their feet. They cried out in fear and anger, tumbling down in a crashing clatter. A host of little forms rose among the tangled mass of men and struck downward with six-inch cudgels, right at the base of the skull between helmet and collar. Soldiers yelped and stiffened, then slumped, unconscious.

The count's horse bucked and plunged, trying to turn; but the count fought it, yanking on the reins, crying "Hold, cowardly beast! I'll not flee an enemy!"

"Brave man," boomed a voice without a body. "Thy cour-age doth thee credit—but no advantage."

And the count rose up from his saddle—up and up, so far that his horse was able to whirl about under him and bolt away from the horrible midnight ogre. The nobleman bellowed in rage just before he slammed into a huge tree trunk and slid downward toward its base. Even as he slid, he shook his head, trying to clear it, groping for his sword; but it hissed out of its sheath by itself. He jolted to the ground and immediately lurched up, trying to stagger to his feet—and dropped back with a howl, clutching at his throat where his own sword's point had lanced him. He looked up, wide-eyed, and saw the blade floating in midair, its point circling right in front of his eyes. He shrank away and, finally, horror crept into his eyes.

The monster gave one last roar and shrank in on itself, disappearing.

For a brief moment, the trail was absolutely silent.

Then Puck's deep voice rumbled through the night. "Well done, children!

Thou didst seize the moment, and gave excellent aid!"

"''Twas our pleasure." Geoffrey stood slowly, rubbing his wrists where the rope had bound them.

"Pleasure indeed." Cordelia glared at the count while an elf cut her bonds with a bronze knife. " 'Tis I who wielded his sword—and almost could I have wished he'd driven himself harder against it."

"That 'almost' is not enough. Who did lift him from his saddle?"

"Geoffrey and I." Magnus flexed his fingers, trying to restore circulation. "I wish we could have thrown him harder."

"Nay! Cease!" the count roared, jerking his arms forward; but the sword feinted at his eyes, and he froze with a shuddering gasp. Behind him, a rope yanked his wrists together and knotted itself tightly, while Gregory stared at it. Elves whipped rope around his ankles, then yanked on his wrists, and he fell with a howl.

"Take away thy thing of Cold Iron," Puck said with distaste, and Cordelia sent the sword spinning off among the trees. Geoffrey watched it go with longing, but said not a word.

"He is harmless now," Puck rumbled. "Again I thank thee, children; thou hast ably done thy part. Now leave us."

"What! Leave?"

"Nay, Puck! Wherefore?"

"We have helped to fell him, and we should have some say in…" But Magnus's voice trailed off as he stared at Puck's face. There was a hardness to the elf that he'd never seen before, and a glint at the back of the Old Thing's eyes that made him shudder and turn away. His brothers and sister saw it, too, and went with him.

"Forget not thy father's faithful servant," Puck rumbled, "thy father's and thine. Do not leave him to rust."

"Fess! Oh, aye!" The children exchanged looks of guilt and hurried back along the trail toward the place where the count's men had ambushed them.

They came upon the great black horse in a patch of moonlight, standing with his legs out stiffly and his head between his fetlocks. Magnus floated up and reached under the front of the saddle, pushing the lump that was the reset switch. He felt it move and, slowly, the robot lifted its head, blinking and looking around at the children, dazed. "Wwwhaat? Wwwherrrre…?"

"Bide thee." Cordelia laid a gentle hand on his nose. "Wait till thy mind hath cleared."

"Thou didst have a seizure," Magnus informed him. "Bide."

Fess was silent, looking from child to child as the haze cleared from his eyes.

Finally he said, "Did the bandits capture you?"

"Aye, but we did escape," Gregory piped up.

"Or were rescued, more aptly," Magnus corrected.

"They were not bandits," Geoffrey added, "but soldiers of Count Drosz."

"Drosz?" Fess lifted his head. "What was his business here? This is not his demesne."

"Nay, but he did seek to seize it."

"Why did his men abduct you?"

The children glanced at one another, trying to find the right way to break the news to Fess.

"Did he seek to use you as hostages?" the robot demanded.

"He did," Magnus admitted.

"And I stood idle! May my…"

" 'Twas not thy fault," Magnus said quickly, staving off a flood of self-recriminations. "And there was naught to fear, truly—Puck and his elves did free us."

"Though we did aid them." Geoffrey couldn't hide his pride.

"Praise Hertz!" Fess sighed. "But where is he now?"

"The count?" Gregory asked. "Or Puck?"

"Both are farther along the trail, where the elves did seize the Count," Magnus explained. "He lies bound hand and foot —but what the Wee Folk do with him, we know not."

A single, lasting shriek tore the forest night, echoing among the trees, then ended abrubtly.

The children stared at one another, shaken. "What…?" gasped Magnus.

"It did have the sound of a human voice," Geoffrey said, with foreboding.

Leaves rustled beside them, and Puck moved out into the moonlight with Kelly behind him. "'Tis done, children," Puck rumbled. "None will ever fear Count Drosz's evil again."

They looked at each other wide-eyed, then back at Puck, with the question on the tips of their tongues; but the look in Puck's face held them silent.

Gregory looked down at Kelly. "What hath upset thee so?"

"Leave him," Puck said quickly, and turned to Kelly. "Thou hast done bravely this night, elf."

"It may be that I have," Kelly muttered, "but I'll never be proud of such work."

"Nay, but neither shouldst thou regret it! Bethink thee, the man had slain and pillaged as he marched into Glynn. Elves had seen him slay folk with his own hand, a dozen times at the least—and this night alone, he wounded a score of elves, some grievously; and Mayberry lies dead."

The children were silent, eyes round. They all knew that elves and fairies did not have immortal souls, as they had, and that when an elf died, his existence ceased utterly.

Kelly's face firmed with conviction, taking on the look of old flint. He nodded slowly. "'Tis even as ye do say. Nay, 'twas just…"

"Merciful," Puck rumbled.

"Even so. Nay, I'll not be ashamed of this deed I've done, neither."

"What deed?" Gregory asked, but Magnus said, "Hush."

"We elves have but saved Their Majesties a deal of trouble and vexation, children," Puck assured mem. "Had we left it to them, the end would have been the same, but with far greater fuss and bother."

Shocked, the children stared at him.

Then Geoffrey protested, "But thou hast no authority over life and death, Puck!"

"All captains have, on the field of battle," Puck answered, "and this was battle in truth. Did Drosz not come in war?"

"Mayhap." Geoffrey frowned. "Yet 'twas 'gainst Glynn he marched, and

'twas for Glynn to…"

"Nay." Puck's eyes glinted. "Glynn might answer for mortals—but not for Wee Folk."

Geoffrey opened his mouth again.

"Nay, do not contend!" Puck commanded. "Be mindful, in this the authority lieth not in the person, but in Justice!"

Geoffrey slowly closed his mouth.

"Yet 'tis not thus that Justice is done," Gregory protested. "For a lord, it hath need of a court, and of other lords!"

"That is mortal justice," Puck answered, "but 'twas for crimes 'gainst Wee Folk the count did answer this night—and the Little People have had their own notion of Justice for as long as Oak, Ash, and Thorn have grown. At the least, 'twas quickly done. Nay, I've known far rougher justice from mortal men."

The children were silent in the moonlight.

Then Magnus said, "I bethink me 'tis time to go home, Puck."

Chapter 10

There really was no reason not to stay and pitch camp right there, but Puck led them away into the night nonetheless—he had some sense of mortals' feelings, and thought the children would feel a bit strange sleeping nearby. So he led them away into the dark, pricked here and there by shafts of moonlight. They were very quiet behind him and, after his own black mood had lightened a little, Puck tried to cheer them by singing an elfin tune. The eeriness of its halftones fitted with the gloom about them, but after a few verses, the children began to feel a sense of calm pervading them. The huge old twisted trees looked less like menacing monsters and more like kindly grandfathers, and the bits of moonlight that lay on their leaves looked like jewels. The vines draping loops from huge branches began to seem like bunting hung for a festival, and the dry leaves underfoot a multicolored carpet.

Within the hour, the children found themselves walking through a faerie forest with a silver brook cutting across their path ahead, prattling happily as it danced over rocks. A gilded little bridge arched over it and Cordelia breathed, "What enchantment is this thou hast woven with thy song, Puck?"

"Only to let thee see what is truly there," the elf answered. "There is ever magic and wonder about thee, if thou wilt but open thine eyes to it." He set foot on the bridge, and so did Gregory behind him.

"Ho! Ho!" boomed a voice like an echo in a chasm, and two huge hands with long, knobby fingers slapped onto the side of the bridge.

"'Ware!" Puck shouted, stepping backward, but keeping his face toward the bridge. Gregory bumped back into Geof-frey, who dug in his heels and braced himself as Cordelia bumped into him. Magnus managed to stop short and mur-mured, "Then again, in forests of fantasy, fantastical creatures abide."

"Ho! Ho!" A great ugly head popped up over the edge of the bridge, with a thatch of shaggy hair like a bunch of straw, eyes like saucers, a lump of a nose, and a wide mouth that gaped to show pointed teeth. "Ho! Ho!" it cried again, and a spindle-shanked leg swung up, slamming down a huge flat foot. But the body that leaped up onto the bridge was only four-feet high, though the chest was a barrel and the shoulders were three-feet across. Its arms reached down to its ankles, and its hands were almost as wide as its head. It clapped them with a sound like a cannon shot. "Children! Yum!"

The children crowded back against each other. "What— what is it, Puck?"

"A troll," the elf answered. "They do live beneath bridges —and are always a-hungered."

The troll grinned, nodding. "Children! Soft, tender! Yum!" And it rubbed its belly.

"So I had thought," Puck said, tight-lipped, "Step back, children! Leave the span to the creature!"

They stepped back—except for Geoffrey. The boy stood like a rock, brow clouded. "I do wish to cross, Robin. What is this thing to gainsay me?"

"One who can rend thee limb from limb with those great hands," Puck snapped. "Stay not to argue, lad."

The troll chuckled deep in its throat and swaggered forward, flexing its hands and drooling.

"Canst thou not defeat it?" Geoffrey demanded.

"Belike," Puck answered, "and belike none will be hurted. Yet 'tis not certain, and I'd liefer not chance it."

"Thounot chance it?" Magnus scoffed. "Speak truly, Puck —what wouldst thou do, an we were not here?"

A gleam shone in Puck's eye. "Aye, an thou wert not here, I would soon have it dancing in rage the whiles it did try to catch me, and would have its head 'twixt its legs and its arms tied in knots, like enough! Yet thouart with me, and I've no wish to chance it! Now,back !"

Reassured, the children retreated, though reluctantly.

"No, no! Not get 'way," the troll cried, and came at them with a sudden rush.

The children leaped back with a cry, and Puck howled, " 'Ware!" A torch suddenly flared in his hand, thrusting up at the troll's nose. It squalled and leaped back, swatting at a burn spot on its loincloth. Puck stepped away, the torch disappear-ing, watching the troll warily.

It finished dousing the spark and looked back at him with huge, witless eyes, drooling and grinning as its glance flickered from child to child. It took a tentative step forward, then hesitated. "What if troll do? Children flee!" It pulled its foot back, shaking its head. "No, no! Mustn't go! Stay on bridge! Children have to cross, soon or late!" It relaxed, gazing from one child to another with a toothy grin. "Children have to cross!" Then it fell silent, totally at ease, watching, waiting.

After a little time, Cordelia asked, "Must we cross, Puck?"

"Assuredly we must!" Geoffrey answered. "And if the foul monster will not step aside for us, then we must needs remove it!" He stepped forward, hand on his dagger.

"Hold thy blade!" Puck's hand clamped on his. "I have told thee once I do not wish to fight! He who fights when he need not is either a fool or a knave!"

Geoffrey reddened, but held his place.

"Puck hath the right of it," Magnus acknowledged.

"But why dost thou speak of it?" Gregory asked, puzzled. "How can there be a question? Wherefore ought we fight for the bridge, when we need but fly over it?"

Geoffrey stared at Magnus, astonished. Magnus stared back, then grinned sheepishly. "What fools were we not to see it!"

"Aye," Cordelia agreed. "What banty roosters art thou, so intent on the challenge mat thou couldst not see a foot into the air?"

"And where were thy words, whilst we did debate it?" Geoffrey demanded.

"Naetheless, the laddie hath the right of it. Up, folk, and fly!"

"But what of Fess?" Magnus said.

"Don't concern yourself with me," the great beast replied. "This creature would not find me a tasty morsel."

They drifted up into the night air, wafting across the stream. The troll howled in frustration. Geoffrey laughed and swooped low, taunting. The troll leaped, snatching at the boy's ankle. Geoffrey howled with dismay as the troll yanked him down with a chuckle, straight toward its great maw. The boy yanked his dagger free and bent to stab, while his siblings cried, "Geoffrey!"

"Be brave—we come!" And they all swooped back for him.

But a diminutive figure leaped up onto the troll's hand just as it was about to bite, a green-clad figure that howled, "Ye foul Sassenach! Would ye gobble up babes, then?" And it

struck with a small hammer, right on the blob of a nose. The troll howled and clapped a huge hand over its proboscis—and Geoffrey yanked his foot free, soaring upward, pale and trembling. Kelly hopped down off the troll's hand, a bit pale himself, and darted for the end of the bridge. The troll roared and stamped at him, but the elf was too quick, and vanished into the night.

"Bless thee, Kelly," Geoffrey cried.

"Aye, and bless thy stars, too," Puck snapped, right next to him in midair.

"What possessed thee to taunt him so? Foolish boy, now get hence!"

Geoffrey's jaw tightened, but he obeyed without an argument for once, and swooped away after his brothers and sister.

Below, the troll watched him go, rubbing its nose and muttering to itself.

Then a slow grin spread over its face, and it swaggered bandy-legged toward the far side of the bridge, chuckling deep in its throat, sniffing the night breeze and following the scent of the children.

As the trees closed behind them, Cordelia looked back. "Puck! The troll hath come off the bridge! It doth scent the night air… it doth follow our trace!"

Puck frowned, darting a quick look back. '"'Tis not the way of that kind.

Then again, they're seldom so thwarted. Summer and Fall! These are thy woods; thou dost know them better than I. Where shall we find safe hiding?"

"Come!" Summer cried; and "Follow!" echoed Fall.

Fess, who had followed them, crossing the bridge after the troll, blundered off in the wood with a great crash, hoping to distract the monster.

The children for their part tried to follow Fall and Summer, but it was slow going—the fairies failed to remember that the children couldn't dodge through a net of brambles, or dive through a twelve-inch hole beneath a shrub. "Hold!" Puck cried to them. "These great folk cannot follow wheresoe'er thou dost lead!"

"Eh! We regret!" Summer bit her lip, glancing back at die sounds of rending and thrashing, and the booming "Ho! Ho!" far behind. "We'll seek to lead thee through ways large enough," Fall promised.

And they did, though they still tended to underestimate what "large enough"

meant. The children grew sore from stooping through three-foot gaps in the underbrush and weary from pushing aside springy branches. But they kept at it, for the crashing and booming "Ho! Ho!" was growing louder behind them.

Festoons of vines glided by them, silvered by moonlight; spider webs two-feet across netted the sides of their way, glistening with dewdrops. Cordelia looked about her, enthralled, and would have stopped to gaze, enchanted, if her brothers had not hurried her on, darting glances back over their shoulders.

"Where dost thou lead us?" Magnus panted.

"To a secret place that only fairies know of," Fall answered.

"Courage—'tis not far now," Summer urged.

It wasn't; in fact, it was only a few more steps. Gregory was following along in Cordelia's wake when suddenly he tripped and lurched against a screen of vines twined together. But the screen gave beneath his weight, and he went bumping and mumping down a hillside with a single yelp of dismay.

"Gregory!" Cordelia cried, and leaped after him.

The boy landed at the bottom with a thud and a thump, and a sister right behind him, who caught him up in a hug almost before he'd stopped sliding. "Oh, poor babe! Art thou hurted, Gregory?"

"Nay, 'Delia," Gregory answered, rubbing at a sore spot on his hip. " 'Tis naught; I'm no longer a babe… Oh, 'Delia!"

He looked about him in rapture. She followed his gaze and stared, too, entranced.

It was a faerie grotto, only a dozen yards across, like a deep bowl in the midst of the woods, lit by a thousand fireflies and walled by flowering creepers and blossoming shrubs, roofed by blooming tree branches and floored with soft mosses.

An arc of water sprang out of one wall in a burbling fountain, to fall plashing into a little pool and run tinkling and chiming across the floor of the grotto as a tiny brook.

" 'Tis enchanted," Cordelia breathed.

"In truth, it is," Fall said beside her. "Long years ago, an ancient witch did fall and sprain her ankle here. The Wee Folk aided her, sin that she had always been kind to mem; we bound her hurt with sweet herbs and a compress of simples, and murmured words of power o'er it, so that the grasses took the hurt from out her, and healed her. In thanks, she made this dell for us and, though she is long gone, her gift yet endures."

With a crash and a skid, her two brothers shot down the side of the grotto.

Their heels hit the moss and shot out from under them, landing them hard on their bottoms. Magnus

yelped, and Geoffrey snarled a word that made Cordelia clap her hands over Fall's ears.

"I thank thee, lass," the fairy said, gently prying Cordelia's fingers away, "but I misdoubt me an thy brother could know a word I've not heard. Still, 'tis most ungentlemanly of him to say it!" She stalked over to glare up at the seated boy, fists on her hips. "Hast thou no consideration for a gentle lady, thou great lob?"

Geoffrey opened his mouth for a hot answer, but Magnus caught his eye, and he swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.

"I prithee, forgive him," Big Brother said. "He is young yet, and 'tis hard for him to be mindful of manners when he is hurted." That earned him a murderous glare which he blithely ignored, and turned back to his sister. "I take it from these presents that thou art not greatly hurted, nor our brother neither."

"Thou hast it aright," she confirmed. "Yet never have I so rejoiced in a mishap. Hast thou ever seen so lovely a covert?"

Magnus looked up, saw and stared. Cordelia realized that he hadn't really noticed his surroundings, nor had Geoffrey. Even he was looking about him with awe. "'Delia! Is this some magical realm?"

" 'Tis a faerie place," Summer told him, "and 'twas made for us by a good witch."

"'Tis enchanted," Fall agreed. "Hush! Canst thou not hear the chant?"

They were all quiet, and heard it softly—a murmur of musical tones, like the wind blowing through the strings of a harp, overlaid with the chiming of the fountain and its brook.

"What is it, then?" Magnus murmured.

"The wind blowing midst the vines," Fall answered.

"And what is this!" Gregory cried. He scrambled down to the center of the grotto, where light glittered from the facets of a huge crystal that sprang from an outcrop of rock.

" 'Tis some great jewel, surely." Cordelia was right behind him.

"Nay." Fall smiled, stepping up next to the huge stone. "'Tis only a stone, though a pretty one. These glistening planes are but its natural form."

"Nay, I think not quite." Magnus came up behind her. '"'Tis mat kind of stone which Papa terms quartz, an I mistake me not."

" 'Tis indeed." But Gregory's gaze was glued to the crystal.

Magnus nodded. "And I've seen quartz aforetime. Rarely doth it show surfaces so flat—and when it doth, they are scarce larger than a finger. There hath been some skilled working in this."

"Nay." Summer disagreed. "It hath been there sin that the witch did make this place."

"She made this crystal with it." Gregory's voice seemed distant somehow—

diminished and drawn. "It did not merely grow; she did craft it."

Geoffrey frowned. "Why hath his voice gone so strange?… Gregory!"

"Hist!" Cordelia seized his hand, pulling it away from their younger brother.

"He doth work magic!"

For Gregory's face had taken on a rapt expression, and his eyes had lost focus. Deep within the crystal, a light began to glow, bathing his face in its radiance.

"Surely it must hurt him!" Geoffrey protested.

"Nay." Magnus knelt on the other side of the crystal, watching his littlest brother's face intently. "It cannot; it is he who doth make use of it. Let thy mind look within his, and see."

They were silent then, each child letting his mind open to the impressions from Gregory's. They saw the crystal from his point of view, but its outlines had dimmed; only the bright spot where the moonlight cast its reflection on it was clear.

As they watched through his eyes, that gleaming highlight seemed to swell, filling his vision but growing translucent, as though he were gazing into a cloud, into a field obscured by fog. Then the mist began to clear, growing thinner and thinner until, through it, they could see…

"'Tis Mama!" Geoffrey exclaimed, in hushed tones.

"And Papa!" Cordelia's eyes were huge, even though it was her mind that saw the vision. "Yet who are those others?"

In the vision, their mother and father sat side by side at an oaken table in a paneled corner with flagons before them, chatting with other grown-ups sitting there with them. One the children could identify—he was obviously a monk, for he wore a brown cowled robe; even the yellow screwdriver-handle that gleamed in his breast pocket was familiar. But the others…

"What manner of clothing is that?" Cordelia wondered.

Indeed, their clothes seemed outlandish. Two of the

grown-ups, by the delicacy of their features, were probably women, but their jerkins were almost identical to those the men wore. One of the men was lean, pale-skinned, and white-haired, his eyes a very pale blue, his face wrinkled; the other was much younger, but quite fat, though with a good-natured smile. And the third was stocky and broad, but also rather ugly…

" 'Tis Yorick!" Cordelia gasped.

"He who was King Tuan's Viceroy of Beastmen, till lately?" Geoffrey stared.

"I' troth, 'tis him! Yet what strange manner of garb doth he wear?"

Indeed, Yorick was dressed just like the other grown-ups, in some weird form of tight-fitting tunic that was fastened up the front without buttons.

" 'Tis he," Magnus agreed. "Yet how doth he come to be with them?"

"At the least, they have found themselves good folk to accompany them,"

Cordelia observed.

"Why certes, thou dolt!" Geoffrey snorted. "Would our folk e'er find aught else?"

Cordelia whirled toward him, a sharp retort on her tongue, but Magnus touched her arm. "Nay! Thou wilt disrupt the dream! Abide, sister! Be patient!

Watch our parents whilst thou may!"

"Oh, aye!" Cordelia held still, concentrating on the vision. "Yet 'twas ill of them, to so leave us. Oh! How dare they go wandering without us?"

"I misdoubt me an they did it by choice," Geoffrey said, with sarcasm.

"He hath the right of it, for once," Magnus agreed. "At the least, sister, rejoice that they do live and are well!"

"Oh, aye!" Cordelia cried, instantly contrite. "How selfish of me! Praise Heaven they are not hurted!"

But even as she said it, the vision began to fade. Cordelia gave a wordless cry of longing, but the mist thickened, obscuring their parents and their friends, till cloud filled the crystal again.

"At the least, we did see them for some little while." Magnus stared at the darkening crystal with huge eyes. "Godspeed, my father and mother! And bring thee back to me quickly!"

Then the crystal was only a glittering bauble again, and Gregory's eyes closed. He swayed, kneeling, men slowly top-pled

Cordelia leaped forward and caught him, cradling his head in her arms. "Oh!

Poor lad! Magnus, it hath quite exhausted him, this seeing!"

"'Tis only weariness, sister," Magnus reassured her. "He must needs rest some little while; then he will be well."

"An we have that 'while' thou speakest of." Geoffrey looked up, turning toward the entrance to the grotto with a frown.

"What dost thou hear?" Magnus was instantly alert, holding very still, straining his ears. Then he heard it, too—a crashing through the brush and a distant

"Ho! Ho!" coming nearer.

"The troll!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Oh, it must not find mis wondrous place!"

"I fear that it will," Geoffrey said, tight-lipped. "It doth follow our trace, and will track us here soon or late!"

"A great blundering monster such as that, entering in amidst all this dainty beauty?" Cordelia cried. "Such a creature would destroy it quite!"

"Nay, it will not." Magnus rose, hefting Gregory's unconscious body, but with great effort. "It will not come in… if we… are gone."

"Thou must not leave!" Summer insisted, hands upraised to stop him.

"Aye! 'Tis not safe," Fall agreed. "The monster will follow and catch thee!"

"Aye… but it will not have come in here, if… we have fled."

"Will it know that, though?" Cordelia demanded. "Nay! It will follow our trace in, then will follow it out again—but Heaven alone knows what havoc it will wreak while here! Nay! Set down thy brother, and aid me! That troll must not enter this grotto!"

"In that, we agree." Summer and Fall said in chorus. "Faerie magic is thine to command. How shall we stop the creature?"

A glitter caught Magnus's eye, and he turned, staring at the tracery of a dew-coated web. "With thine aid, I can at least think how to slow it when it doth seek to enter."

"Slowing the thing will not save this grotto! Oh!" Cordelia stamped her foot, glaring at Gregory's unconscious form. "Waken, lob! Canst thou not find a way to stop this monster?"

"Do not seek to rouse him." It was a deep baritone; Puck stood by her knee, frowning up at Gregory. "That seeing drew

greatly on his strength; thy folk must be far indeed from us."

"Yet how shall we stay this troll, Robin?"

"An Magnus can slow it at the entrance to this grotto, I may know how to banish it—unless I mistake the creature's nature quite." Puck grinned. "At the least, we could watch from safe hiding and try. Art thou willing, children?"

"Well, if it must be safe hiding, it must," Geoffrey sighed. "What is thy plan, Puck?"

When the troll came blundering and bellowing to the grotto, they were ready for it.

It followed their trail up to the hole in the vines, went on past it, slowed, stopped, and looked around, confused. Then a grin split its face, and it turned to swagger back, sniffing as it went. As it came to the hole in the vines, its grin widened, and it shouted, "Aho!" It bent over, sniffing from side to side, then turned toward the hole with a chuckle. It stepped forward…

And blundered into an invisible wall.

The troll stepped back, frowning, but whatever it had come against clung to it and it swatted around trying to bat the substance away. But the effort was for naught, and it bellowed in anger, kicking and thrashing.

"It is wrapped in the spiders' webs," Geoffrey reported.

"Small wonder, when there were a thousand of mem, one on top of another,"

Magnus answered. "Now, 'Delia, lead us. Think, brother."

Geoffrey glared at the troll, but his mind concentrated on Cordelia's thoughts.

Cordelia was thinking of birds—many birds. Sparrows, robins, bluebirds, crows—hundreds of them. Magnus picked up on the sparrows, imagining a horde of mem as vividly as he could. Geoffrey took robins, lots of robins, flocking together to practice flying south for the winter.

The troll roared in full anger now, struggling with more and more strength but less and less effect. As it struggled, bits of it began to flake off against the spider webs, taking on independent life, wriggling through the holes the troll tore in its invisible cocoon, clawing loose and fluttering away into the night.

"'Tis even as Puck thought!" Geoffrey cried. The troll is a thing made of witch-moss!" And he redoubled his efforts, glaring furiously at the monster.

The birds were fluttering out of the churning chrysalis by the dozens now—

robins, sparrows, and bluebirds flying away, huge crows flapping into the night with cawing cacophony that masked the troll's shrunken, high-pitched roaring— and as they fluttered away, the thrashing shape grew smaller and smaller.

Finally, it was small enough to crawl through one of the holes it had torn—

and a foot-high troll came waddling and tumbling down the side of the grotto wall with roars that sounded like a kitten's mew.

"Eh, the poor thing!" Cordelia said, and her vision of blue-birds vanished like a soap bubble. She leaped up, arms out-stretched—but Puck caught at her skirt.

"Nay, lass! Small it may be, yet 'tis even now a vicious, voracious monster! Hold out thy hand to it and it will take thy wrist with its teeth!"

"Think, brother!" Magnus commanded, and Geoffrey obeyed with a will. As Cordelia watched, appalled, the troll's form blurred like a wax doll too close to the fire. The colors of its face, hair, and body flowed, blending into an even pinkish mass which still wobbled toward them, pinching in the middle, dividing, splitting apart. Then each half stretched, darkening, and slabs of its substance shelved out, moving up and down, as its form coalesced and hardened—and a crow flew away into the night, cawing. A sparrow hopped after it, chirping.

Then the grotto lay empty, and silent.

Cordelia stared, eyes huge and tragic.

"Do not feel guilt, sister," Geoffrey snapped. "It would have eaten thee, an it could have."

" 'Twas never a thing of its own," Puck pointed out, "for it had no mind—

only an impulse, a blind, clawing need. 'Twas born of an old wife's delight in a children's tale, and had no more substance than a fevered dream."

"'Tis almost as though it had never been," Cordelia whispered.

"Never think it!" Geoffrey insisted, and Magnus nodded, his face hard. "It would have bitten thee with teeth hard and sharp, and devoured thee with an actual hunger. 'Twas real enough, sister—real enough."

Chapter 11

It was still dark when Kelly shook them, one by one, calling softly, "Wake.

The sun rises over the pastureland, children, even though ye see it not. We must begin the day's journey. Wake!"

The children rolled over with an assortment of groans. "But we were awake so late last night, Kelly," Gregory pleaded.