It began to rain almost as soon as we left the tower. Palomina forced Dinadan onto his horse’s back at knifepoint, blindfolded and gagged him, and bound his hands and feet. Though it was still very early in the morning the sun was coming up over the far end of the loch. I tried not to look at the huge body that lay at the far edge, halfway out of the water. I sincerely hoped that we would not have to go past it, but sure enough we took the road by which Sir Dinadan had attempted his escape. As we passed the brown, barnacle-covered hulk of the monster, I felt terrible guilt over what I had done. My stomach turned as I watched the fish nibble at the submerged tail of the king that had so long ruled over them. The fate I’d given the ancient beast had been the one I’d planned for Avalon. In being saved from destroying one ancient and noble thing, I had found myself murdering another.
Palomina ordered that we march in silence, so that we did not give anything away to Sir Dinadan, whose ears we couldn’t bind. Tentatively, I reached for her free hand, and she allowed me to take it. I raised my eyebrows to ask if she forgave me for not using my gift on Sir Dinadan’s mind, and she smiled weakly. She allowed me to kiss her when I lowered my mouth to hers, and in that kiss I found that Dinadan’s words about Palomides had scared her badly. Her brother dominated her thoughts. She had faith that he had not betrayed their camp at the loch willingly, but was haunted the terrible things she imagined they had done to force him into revealing the information. I squeezed her hand, which I am sure felt like very small consolation to her.
We walked on in silence well into the afternoon, the rain never ceasing. The land that had seemed so sublimely bleak the day before was now threatening. Gradually my magical senses became less sore. I once more felt the rough disturbance beneath the land. Something lay to the south of us, heavy like a bruise. I had felt something like it in Epicene’s memory, when she was in the presence of Merlin – the complete Merlin – at Caerleon. I stretched out in front of us, hoping to catch an indication of Epicene’s warm magical aura. When I felt her magic I would know we were almost there. But I felt nothing, and resigned myself to many more hours on the road.
So it was a surprise when, perhaps an hour after I began to feel like myself again, we turned up through a gate and climbed a wooded path that dropped very steeply on the left side. I was a bit worried about the horse’s ability to keep Sir Dinadan on its back as it went up the muddy rise, but the beast was a fine one, and the knight a decent if ungainly rider, even blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back. The horse retained its confident footing, and Dinadan stayed in his saddle even when the path twisted sharply.
I was just considering how glad I was that I couldn’t sense Epicene in this poorly defensible place, when I heard a rustling from the bushes to the side and felt a huge arm wrap itself around me. I started to struggle, but then saw a sickle hanging from the man’s belt. I looked up and saw the face of Piers grinning back at me, the two scars the Questing Beast had given him gleaming on his cheek. Aglinda and Alisander danced excitedly around his feet, but both obeyed Palomina’s injunction to stay silent, which she enforced with a hand over her mouth. He ruffled their hair in greeting, and nodded at Sir Dinadan.
Palomina drew a square in the air, and Piers signalled that he understood. The farmer took the reins, and led the horse off along the left fork of the path. Palomina jerked her thumb at the narrower fork on the right, telling us to go that way, and went after the farmer and our captive. Aglinda grabbed my hand and led me up the rocky cut, to a door carved into the hill itself. Aglinda knocked a complex rhythm, and the door swung open into a large hall that had been cleanly burrowed out of the hillside. We walked past a tall grey-haired man who guarded the inside of the door, and went into the warm, softly lit, and well-furnished place. And there they all were. Well, most of them.
There were Melwas and Agravaine, lounging close to each other by the fireplace; the girl from Alisander’s memory called Petal resting her head on Melwas’ leg. There was Epicene, her bald head gleaming, though I still couldn’t sense her magic, and the fat, red-faced boy called Garnish. A very weak flutter of a type of magic I didn’t recognise emanated from him. And there was Christian, now a blond-haired toddler of two years and two days, sat on the knee of his ancient nursemaid, Norma. He was toying with the wooden cross Bellina had found tied round his neck back in the cave on Avalon, the cross that had given him his name. There was Brunor of the ill-fitting coat, still wearing that misshapen piece of clothing, and Bellina Saunce Pité sitting tight to the wall, as if trying to squeeze away from Brunor’s poor taste. None of them turned to us as we entered the room; their eyes were all focused on Elia the bard, who, eyes closed and with harp in hand, was just beginning to sing this grim song:
The actor of Athens at the end of the games
Was called by a lady whose heart was aflame
‘Oh actor of Athens, do come be my love
‘You put me in mind of Zeus god above’
The actor of Athens he sneaked to her lair
Where he found lady all naked and fair
‘Come to my arms and my soft fair round breast’
The actor of Athens he soon all undressed
‘Hold, actor of Athens, remove not your mask,
‘Love me as Zeus if you’re up to the task’
She took him to love and with hands on flesh hips
She put her mouth to his mask’s wooden lips
The actor of Athens ten score times he tried
To tear off that mask, but each time she cried
‘No, godhead of Athens, do close your eyes,
‘For behind dark eyeholes a poor human lies.’
The actor of Athens he did as she said
He loved her eyes-shut on her downy-soft bed
Thus actor of Athens he saw not her lies
As she took out her knife and put out his eyes
Eyes look on masks
And thrill in deceit
Eyes behind masks
Are shaped as they’re seen
The actor of Athens, his mask filled with gore
Cried out at the lady whom he had adored
‘Damn you foul gorgon, I’ll have my revenge’
With hands round her throat he squeezed out her breath
Eyes look on masks
And thrill in deceit
Eyes behind masks
Are shaped as they’re seen
As the music of Elia’s harp and her strong, clear voice faded into silence, she opened her eyes and saw me.
‘Bloody hell, Drift, look at you!’ she said, laughing. ‘The Caledonian air’s done you wonders.’
They crowded round me at once, even Bellina. There were hugs, warm words and handshakes. Agravaine had grown taller and even stronger in the time I had been away. Though my glamour made me bigger, the gap between our heights had grown perhaps another two inches. His strong hug nearly squeezed the air out of me. There was a strange look in Bellina’s eyes as she kissed me on both cheeks.
‘He’s a bit of alright, actually,’ said the girl Petal in a stage whisper to Brunor, Garnish and the grey man. ‘I thought they said he was a hunchback?’
‘Epicene,’ I smiled as the fire-sorcerer embraced me, ‘I couldn’t sense you at all.’
‘No, water-mage,’ she replied, ‘but I could sense you. You have grown stronger, and learned much.’ She had a knowing look in her almost completely white eyes. I felt a churn in my stomach; she had detected my glamour.
‘I’ve brought you a gift, Epicene,’ I said, taking the damp copy of the Magikos from my belt. ‘I thought it might be useful.’
She took the book, nodded, and stepped aside to let Elia come forward.
‘Chummy-lad,’ said Elia, shaking me a strong handshake with her musician’s hand. ‘Good to have you back. Did you like the song? It’s a new one; I only made it this afternoon.’
‘Gruesome as ever,’ I said. She grinned. She loved a bit of blood and gore in her songs.
‘Where’s Mordred?’ I asked Melwas as she leant down to embrace me, her curly red hair brushing my face. She looked in the direction Piers and Palomina had led Sir Dinadan, but didn’t reply. There was a distant look in her green eyes.
‘And if I may, I’d like to introduce you to our new arrivals,’ said Elia, when the greetings of those I knew were done. ‘Here we have Brunor –’
‘They call me La Cote Mal Taille, my friend,’ said the dark-skinned boy as he shook my hand. ‘Though I am not sure the Gaulish works.’ He spoke like a foreigner, but not in an accent I had heard from any mouth but his. Where Epicene’s voice was musical, Palomina’s monotone, and Melwas’ accent smooth and modulated, Brunor spoke quickly, repeatedly building to sharp crescendos and pauses.
‘And direct from King Pellam’s Pile, this is Petal, former handmaiden to Queen Melody of Cornwall –’
The pretty curly-haired girl, who was perhaps a year younger than me, performed a cheeky curtsey and fluttered her eyelashes.
‘– Garnish of the Mount –’
‘Well met, there,’ said Garnish nervously.
‘– And John of the Marsh.’
Aglinda had run to this tall, strong-looking John when we came into the room. His large hand rested on her shoulder.
‘This is Margaret’s father,’ said Aglinda excitedly.
I felt a thump in my chest. Of all the things Palomina could have told me, I wished the fact that Margaret of the Marsh’s father had joined us had been one of them.
‘’Glinda here tells me you knew our Margaret,’ said John. I heard echoes of the drowned girl’s east-British accent in his voice. Everything you love will leave you, Margaret’s voice had said.
I swallowed, and reached for his hand. ‘I did, sir. She was a good friend to me in the short time I knew her.’
‘I’d have you tell me your memories of her at a quieter of time,’ he said, as his hand swallowed mine.
I nodded, meaning to say of course, but I couldn’t properly meet his eyes, which were so like his daughter’s.
‘And here he is,’ I said, turning to the lad I had saved from the waves. Christian was hiding shyly behind the skirts of Norma, who may have been ancient, but was still very beautiful. Her skin was lined, but this in no way hid the fineness of her features, or bloated her figure. She wore a simple black robe, belted at the waist, and regarded me with clear and ancient eyes.
‘This is Norma, the last of our Spar-Longius refugees,’ said Elia, a reference I didn’t understand. ‘She’s been looking after Christian since you’ve been away.’
I heard Agravaine sigh behind me, and saw that he was standing arms-crossed, glaring at Norma. Back on Avalon, he and I had been the most active in caring for Christian, but I got the strong impression that relations were frosty between him and the lad’s new nurse.
As I approached him Christian retreated further and further behind Norma, until all I could see were a few golden curls and the mole at the corner of his left eye.
‘It’s alright, Christian, don’t be shy,’ I said, ‘it’s me: Uncle Drift.’ I used the term more for Norma’s benefit than Christian’s. The nurse regarded me with such a sour eye that I was almost repelled from approaching the boy.
‘I am afraid that the boy’s shy, Uncle Drift,’ said Norma. Her voice was weirdly youthful for a woman in her seventies or eighties, no matter how extremely sound she was in health.
‘Come here, Christy,’ said Aglinda, clapping her hands at the boy. ‘Come on.’
But Norma held out her arm to keep Christian behind her. ‘You are overexcited, Aglinda,’ said the nursemaid sharply. ‘Sit down and collect yourself.’ I remembered the thought that had come into my mind from Alisander’s memories: he didn’t think that Norma cared for any child other than Christian. Aglinda was frustrated by the mild telling-off, and spun on her foot, turning her back on the old woman.
‘...and there was the monster, and Sir Dinadan tried to take Aglinda, and we brought Dinadan back with us,’ Alisander was telling Melwas, shaking her sleeve as he did so.
Melwas looked at me questioningly. I nodded that the events of Alisander’s story were correct, if not necessarily in the right order. ‘I’ll let Aglinda and Alisander tell you the tale,’ I said. ‘But where is Mordred? I’d like to see him.’
‘I’ll take you,’ said Agravaine, stepping forward. ‘Come on, lad.’ He nodded me back out into the rain.