Gossamyr Part 21

Ulrich stood and stretched his arms high above his head. His hose bagged behind his knees; he gave a tug to them just over his b.u.t.tocks. Behind them, Fancy snorted. No patches of clover to be found here on this plot of beaten earth. A glance at the surrounding people, mired in miserable wait, and Ulrich beckoned she follow him.

Gossamyr remained on the ground, unsure.

"My lady, do you want to hear my sorry tale? It is my final truth."

"I had thought all our truths out?"

He shrugged. "Oops."

"Oops?" She stood and walked beside him, her bare feet padding in pace to his. "Blight these mortals and their puzzling words."

They strode toward the end of the convoy, Fancy in tow. Gossamyr kept a keen eye on the horizon and the forest that edged the hill for marauders. Why did the city not post guards outside the gates?

"That dance stole two decades from me,"Ulrich said. He kicked the cracked wood wheel on a cart piled higher than his head with chopped ash logs. "Lydia had twenty years to mourn me. Rhiana, a babe in infant skirts when I left, could never remember me. Yet it was but an afternoon to me. What if you returned to Faery and all had changed?"

"Faery time is so mutable. This is my first journey away..."

Would it all be so different upon her return? How to know she would not lose Time as Ulrich had? "So Rhiana, the damsel, is your daughter?"

"Yes, you thought otherwise? Silly faery!"

"I am no such thing. I merely-" Had suspected he'd a lover. But she'd never thought the lover to be a wife. Blight! "Tell your tale, soul shepherd."

"Very well." Leaping around to the back of the cart, Ulrich leaned against the gate that barred the wood from tumbling to the ground. "I pa.s.sed but a few hours of dancing in Faery. But here in France, er-the Otherside, for those of us unfamiliar with the terminology-twenty years pa.s.sed. I had returned two decades after stepping into that evil circle."

"That is quite remarkable."

"Yes, and I had aged not a moment. So many things change," Ulrich said, "and yet, much remains the same."

That is why you are always muttering about things being the same or not?"

"I am in a constant state of befuddlement."

"Sure madness."

"Is it mad to wish it back? Twenty years." He groped the air between them and made to fling it away. "Stolen! I did no harm to the fee." Checking that those waiting to pa.s.s through the gates were not eavesdropping, Ulrich then lowered his voice. "I did not covertly enter that d.a.m.ned toadstool ring. I was but wandering along, whistling a tune, when I stumbled into it with little knowing." He gripped her by the upper arms and entreated, "Why did they do it to me?"

The s.h.i.+mmer in his eyes looked to be tears. Gossamyr prevented herself from reaching to touch his face, from further connecting when the connection could only feel so illicit. Yet so strongly it intrigued. She ignored propriety more and more.

"I have always been told the Dancers are returned," she offered, "without harm."

"I was not harmed physically. But here!" He tapped his skull and swung around in a circle of outrage. "My thoughts, my memories, my very life has been altered." He wrung his fist in a useless gesture before his face then punched the air. "It is as if a chunk has been cleaved out from me- right here." He thumped his chest. "A chunk of time, of love and life that should have been mine."

Gossamyr pressed a palm over her chest. Not missing, but...slowly falling away?

"Lydia remarried!" Ulrich again checked his volume, and then hissed, "Upon my return to St. Renan a strange man stood in the doorway to my home. Just stood there! Protecting it from my entrance. Lydia's new husband had taken over my home!"

Swallowing, he caught his forehead with shaky fingers. The ruby ring flashed like the glossy eye of a succubus's victim. "And my Lydia...she had aged. Still lovely, you understand. But lines had creased into her forehead. And her eyes-those gla.s.s-blue eyes- they had dulled. She recognized me immediately, but...such horror in that pretty blue gaze that had before looked upon me with love. Most likely she thought me a spirit, one of the very souls I have all my life shepherded onward. Can you imagine?"

"No." Gossamyr crossed her arms over her chest, the nubby wool gown still moist under her stroking fingers 'Twould be as if her mother returned to her, but aged beyond comprehension.

Gossamyr had been aware of a few of s.h.i.+nn's brief visits to the Otherside. He never changed physically. Yet, the fee lord always reminded, to visit the mortal realm too often taxed all fee. Time would have its due.

Propping her shoulder against the corner of the cart, Gossamyr observed the soul shepherd pace before her. Remembering. Reliving.

"To Lydia I had been absent two decades, and yet I looked the same. But the worst of all?" Ulrich looked to her for permission to continue. "Rhiana was gone. Lydia screamed at me, 'She has been sacrificed to the dragon this day!' This day!"

Dragons were as unfamiliar to Gossamyr as mortals were. She did know the creatures usually ate mortals offered as a sacrifice. They were creatures of such old and enduring Enchantment they did not rely upon Faery for survival.

"I was that close to saving my daughter. And I will have her back! I will."

"What cruel fate your Dance has granted," Gossamyr whispered as the man paced off toward the woods. "It is not right." And now, far from Faery, she could not summon argument in favor of the fee. Tricksy, be her kind. But to the detriment of one who had only shown her kindness? "I will help you to make it right, Ulrich."

The gates were pulled wide to admit what had now become dozens. The final cart of provisions had been counted and covered and rolled on into Paris. Gossamyr had let Ulrich wander off, sensing his need to grieve. But soon the gates would again close.

She tromped through the fallen twigs and tall gra.s.ses edging the forest, making no effort at stealth. If the soul shepherd still be in a sad mood her noise would alert him, give him opportunity to adjust his demeanor.

Where had he got to? Mayhap he was off with the alicorn to serve himself. Or had he been set on by brigands? The alicorn was a beacon.

"When I find him, I am going to track the nearest toadstool Pa.s.sage and shove him in."

Ulrich swung around a wide oak trunk. He flicked an acorn at her, missing by an armshot. "Shove me in? That, my lady, is positively evil. You should be nicer to me. I am grieving."

Yet his smile compelled her to wonder might his thoughts be more flirtatious.

"You shouldn't...disappear."

"I was answering nature's call."

"For so very long?"

"My thoughts were dark." He tossed another acorn at her. Gossamyr caught it and clutched it to fist. "I needed to be by myself."

"Sorry."

"No worry. I won't let this out of my sight." Ulrich patted the saddlebag. "I can feel it draw in power. The unicorn must be in Paris."

"You understand you cannot bring back the dead. Well, you can, but in exchange, Faery will lose something. It is like when magic drains the Enchantment."

"I care naught. Rhiana should be alive as we speak. She is an innocent, Gossamyr, a little child simply needing me, for her mother had not really loved her."

That statement peaked Gossamyr's attention.

"Nor had she opportunity to get to know me or her real father."

"Her real father?"

Shuffling a handful of acorns in his palm, Ulrich turned and slid a shoulder against the tree trunk. A sigh and he tossed the acorns to the ground. "I am not Rhiana's blood father. The child was... queer-gotten. Unsure parentage. Doesn't matter; I loved her as my own.

"You have embarked on a harrowing quest, rife with evil that wishes you dead, for a child not of your blood?"

"Yes!"

Flinching at his emphatic outburst, Gossamyr twisted the tip of her staff in the ground. The acorn dug into her palm. "Impressive."

"Think you?"

"I don't know I could risk my life for something not my own. My father, Faery-they mean so much to me. That is because they are a part of me, my very blood."

"It may surprise you the things a man will do for someone he loves."

"Will you tell me who your daughter's father is?"

Ulrich stared off toward the gate where the tired travelers filed through. "When I lived in St. Renan, there was rumor a madman stalked the forest that edged the sea. He wandered the night naked, moaning and shouting insanities. All were cautious when pa.s.sing through the wood, and never would any broach the forest after nightfall. Lydia was late from market one eve-but a se'nnight after we had wed. She arrived home well after moonrise, frantic and shaking. The madman had violated her."

Gossamyr sucked in a breath.

"Rhiana could be mine, but she is-was-pale of hair. Dragon p.i.s.s, it was stark red sprouting unnaturally wild like a witch's broom from her scalp." Ulrich tilted his head to look at Gossamyr. "Lydia never did take to the child. So distant she kept, almost as if she feared to touch the poor thing. I could not fault her; she had suffered for that child. Mayhap that was why I was drawn immediately to her. I fell madly for her wide green eyes. Such a gem, she was, and so innocent of her coming to this wicked world. Do you believe a man can love a child not his own?"

"Such a man would have to be selfless, honed of impeccable integrity. If you say that you can, then I suppose I believe you."

"Such trust I've gained in so little time from you, Faery Not." Hooking an arm about the tree trunk, he swung forward, dipping his head to peer up into her face. "Not so quick to brush me off now. Must be the Disenchantment. It has made you more susceptible to we mortals."

Gossamyr touched her throat. She had abandoned the wimple somewhere along the way. "Do I yet sparkle?"

He stroked two fingers across her brow and pushed back a loose strand of hair over her shoulder. "Not so much. Actually..." He tilted up her chin. "I don't see the pattern at all. That bath in the stream must have washed it away. Nice."

His breath swept her cheek and Gossamyr blinked open her eyes to look upon his face. He smiled. "You are difficult to resist, you know that?"

"Resist how?"

"From kissing."

"But, your wife..."

"Never again to be mine. Condemn me naught, I still love her. Or maybe it was but the child I truly loved. Indeed, it was difficult atimes to withstand Lydia's blatant refusal to love Rhiana. Ah! Mon Dieu, it has been but a week! And yet, already I look to my fancies. You can steal the marriage from the man, but you cannot take away his desire."

Desire, Gossamyr knew. Desire, she had felt under Ulrich's scrutiny. But to know now that he was married and had a child...

"What will you do if you can bring back your daughter? It has been very long; she will not remember you."

He twisted, resting his back against the flaking birch trunk near where she stood. "I had not thought of that. Rhiana will have forgotten the father a two-year-old once knew. As Lydia forgot when she took another husband. But I have not had the years to forget. No one deserves to die so cruel a death. Dragon fire." He shuddered.

Gossamyr slid her hand into his. They stood there, looking into one another's eyes-close, but for the mortal propriety.

Yes, you do forget, she thought. You forget a promise to never love again, the feel of your lover's embrace and the power of his kiss. You forget. And you desire.

THIRTEEN.

The twosome stood twenty paces from the large wooden doors. Great cuts hewn into the weathered pine gave Gossamyr to wonder who had tried to hack their way inside. The road, rutted and muddied from the procession, sucked at Fancy's hooves. An ominous calm fell over her. Mere wood and mud to welcome her to so great a city? This mortal kingdom be not so frightening!

"As much as I know I am being led to Paris-and must proceed-I don't particularly care to pa.s.s through these gates."

"Why your reluctance?" she asked Ulrich.

"Do you know how many people die in this city? Every day?"

Gossamyr shrugged. She pressed the staff to her cheek. Smoke littered the air with a heavy odor.

"How many die in Faery a day?" Ulrich asked.

"Not many. One or two every season."

"Well, it is many here in Paris. Plague-like proportions."

"Ah."

"So you understand?"

"No." So there were dead people-oh. "Sorry, Ulrich. Do the souls a.s.sault you from all angles?"

He tugged his cloak up over his face and gave a yank to bring Fancy around.

"Will that help?" she wondered.

"Pray that it will, but likely not. Now, mount Fancy."

Gossamyr bristled as Ulrich shoved her up onto the mule's back. "What are you-unhand me!"

"Time to follow my plan, Faery Not. We will find safe pa.s.sage through the gates if we appear a couple. You must humble yourself and give me that staff."

She gripped the staff as Ulrich struggled with it. "This is mine, soul shepherd."

"Please, fair lady, step down from your proud pedestal for but the time it takes us to pa.s.s through the gates."

Two guards stood at either side of the gate, fully armed, pikes longer than her staff in hand. They did not question but she could feel their eyes behind the metal bourquinettes taking in all. "Very well." She released the staff. "But you guard that-"

"Yes, yes, with my life. As if I've not already a life-threatening task with this bedeviled horn riding my back. You've the wimple?"

"I think I left it by the stream."