The Warlock is Missing (10 page)

"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, 'tis
my
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 is
mine
!"

"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."