IX. In the Other World

As her companions disappeared, Lynet tried frantically to think of a reason to go with them, but she couldn't, so she turned her mare and rode slowly into the Castle Perle. In the stables, she rubbed down her mare, as Roger had taught her, and when she could think of no other task, she reluctantly went into the castle keep.

Lyonesse pounced on her as soon as she entered. "Well? Who is he?" she demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Lynet asked. At the sight of her sister, Lynet's anger had flamed again, but she forced herself to speak calmly.

"My knight, of course!" Lyonesse exclaimed. "You brought him, didn't you? What is his name?"

"He told you. He's called Beaumains."

"Yes, I know that, but what is his real name? Uncle Gringamore says he's too good to be an unknown. He thinks he might even be Gawain or Lancelot in disguise. Is he?"

"I never asked him," Lynet said. "If a man doesn't want to tell his real name, I can respect that." Lyonesse stared at her sister incredulously, but Lynet continued, choosing her words carefully. "What do you care, anyway? You sent him away."

Lyonesse burst into shrill laughter. "Oh, you poor simple girl! Of course I sent him away! If I hadn't, he would have lost interest in me. Men don't want women who are easily won."

"Easily? He almost died for you!"

Lyonesse dismissed this with a toss of her head. "You'll see. He'll be back, begging. In the meantime, I must find out who he is! Did he ever say anything that might give us a clue?"

Lynet did not answer. She pushed roughly past her sister and strode down the hall to her own bedchamber. She closed the door firmly and looked dully at the familiar furniture, wondering why it all seemed so strange.

She couldn't stay in her room forever, though, especially once her stomach began to rumble, and so at dinnertime she joined Lyonesse and Sir Gringamore in the small dining room where the family took its meals. Lyonesse acknowledged Lynet's arrival with only the barest of nods, but Sir Gringamore greeted her jovially. "Good to see you, Lynnie. It's been deuced slow here without you," he said.

Lynet chose a seat beside a roast capon and began to help herself. Lyonesse spoke to Sir Gringamore. "All right. We know from the stories that sometimes Sir Lancelot rides in disguise."

"True, true," replied Sir Gringamore. "If you count the time that he wore Sir Kai's armor on a quest. Tristram's gone incognito too, I hear."

"I don't want Sir Tristram," Lyonesse said impatiently. "He's in love with Queen Isoult. I'm sure she's not as pretty as I am, but you know that she and Tristram drank a love potion. He's no good to me." Lynet grimaced at Lyonesse's selfishness, but Lyonesse ignored her. "But this knight might indeed be Sir Lancelot, don't you think?"

"Forget it, Lyon," Lynet said scornfully. "I don't know who he is, but I know he's not Lancelot. He says that Sir Lancelot was the one who knighted him. Besides, I hear that Lancelot's tired of fighting."

Lyonesse pinched her face together in a scowl. Lynet suddenly remembered Lady Eileen's comment about "skinny and peevish-looking" and felt slightly cheered. Lyonesse saw Lynet's smile and misunderstood. "You do know something! Tell us, Lynnie! I must know! I can't marry a nobody!"

"Marry?" Lynet said, stunned. "Have you thought that maybe he doesn't want to marry you, now? Maybe he's realized that you're nothing but a hateful, selfish shrew!"

Sir Gringamore chuckled. "There, see? That's the sort of cozy family chat I've been missing." He looked at Lynet. "If you don't know his name, then do you know someone else who does?"

"Nobody who would tell Lyon," Lynet said deliberately.

Lyonesse scowled again. Suddenly, her brow cleared. "Say, what about that dwarf? The one who brought us the message and who rode away with the knight? Does he know?" Lynet hesitated, and Lyonesse crowed with triumph. "He does, doesn't he! I can see it in your face!"

"It doesn't matter if he does," Lynet retorted. "He won't tell you. He says you're ugly."

Lyonesse's eyes flashed, but she said, "What does a dwarf know about human beauty?"

Lynet rose slowly from her chair. "Roger knows more about beauty than you know about being human," she said in an icy voice. Lyonesse stared wide-eyed at Lynet's hand and swallowed hard. Lynet realized that she was still holding the carving knife and had been pointing it at Lyonesse's breast. She laid the knife down slowly and gathered a few plates of food. "I'll take the rest of my dinner in my room, I think," she said. Neither Lyonesse nor Sir Gringamore spoke as Lynet left the room.

Lynet took most of her meals in her own room for the next few days, avoiding Lyonesse's company. Having gotten away for several weeks, she found castle life unutterably dull and her sister unendurable. Until she had seen Lyonesse callously reject Beaumains's love, she had not realized exactly how cruel her sister could be. If Lyonesse didn't love Beaumains, why did she have to show her profile and capture his heart so effortlessly? She might have left him for someone else, after all. No, it was best that Lynet stay away from Lyonesse, especially when there were carving knives at hand.

In truth, it was not difficult to avoid Lyonesse. After that first night, Lyonesse spent most of her time closeted with Sir Gringamore, talking in whispers and obviously hatching plots. Lynet didn't want to know their schemes, but on the third afternoon, she found that she couldn't avoid Lyonesse's plans entirely. Lynet had decided to take a ride, to get away from the castle at least temporarily, but the head groom stiffly informed her that Lynet was not to be allowed a horse until Lady Lyonesse gave further orders. Furious, and determined not to be Lyonesse's prisoner, Lynet decided that if she couldn't ride, she'd walk.

Brushing by the protesting and clearly discomfited guards at the gate, Lynet strode out into the meadow that until recently had been the camp of the Red Knight. Cold campfires and the usual camp trash lay about, but everything of value had been carted away by the Red Knight's suddenly masterless servants. Beyond the dead camp, just a half mile away, Lynet saw the forest, and she quickened her step. She longed for the purifying scent of pines and the soothing hush of the forest breeze.

When she stepped into the shadows, she immediately felt herself relax, and she was able to breathe deeply again. For hours she wandered among the trees, reflecting nostalgically on her long rides with Roger and Beaumains, and her conversations with the dwarf at their campfires. When the sun began to pale and lower, she regretfully decided that she should be turning toward home. She checked the forest signs that Roger had taught her, determined which direction to go, and had just started to walk when the sound of an axe made her stop. Someone was cutting wood nearby.

Remembering that Roger had been rescued by a woodcutter, Lynet turned toward the sound. She was just about to call out a greeting when she heard a stirring in the bushes behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with three large wolves, sitting on their haunches, watching her.

Slowly she stepped backwards, glancing quickly around her for some possible weapon, even though she knew in her heart that a lone girl had no chance against three wolves, even a lone girl with a stick. "Shoo!" she said sternly. "Go away!"

The wolves rose to their feet and began to spread out around her. Panicking, she turned and ran wildly through the forest. She heard no following footsteps, but a low growl just behind her indicated the wolves' presence. She knew it was insane to run, but she couldn't stop herself. She burst out of the trees just as one of the wolves pounced. Its forepaws knocked her sprawling into the dirt and pine needles, and she heard a sharp snap as its teeth just missed her ear. Then there was a shout, and the wolves backed away.

Lynet scrambled to a sitting position and looked around. She was in a clearing beside a tiny hut. All around were neat stacks of cut wood. A man with the wildest brown beard that she had ever seen was racing toward her, holding an axe. She shrank away from him, but he ran past her, whispering "Be still," as he went by. He threw himself at the wolves and began laying about him with the axe. The axe flickered like lightning, quicker even than Beaumains's sword, and a wolf lay dead at his feet. Another wolf leaped at him, and the axe flashed again, sinking deep into the wolf's breast. The woodcutter wheeled sharply to face the third wolf, but it lay dead in the dust, an arrow in its heart.

Dazed and disoriented, Lynet looked around the tiny clearing. Behind her and to her right she saw a slender figure lower a longbow. It was Squire Terence. He walked toward her. "Are you hurt, Lady Lynet?" She shook her head, and Terence turned toward the woodsman.

"You are very prompt, sir," the squire said.

"It is nothing," the woodcutter said abruptly. His voice was cultured and even had a trace of a foreign accent. He wiped his axe clean on a dead wolf's fur.

"Thank you, friend," Lynet said to the woodcutter, still dazed. "You saved my life."

"It is nothing," he repeated. He did not look at either of them. When Terence retrieved his arrow from the wolf's carcass, the bearded man turned his face away. "It is not good for a lady to be alone in the forest," he said. "You must go home now."

"I will," Lynet said softly, gathering her wits. "But how can I repay you? I am twice in your debt. You not only saved my life now, but I believe you also saved the life of my friend, Roger the dwarf."

The woodcutter acknowledged the incident with a curt nod, but again he said only, "It is nothing."

"No, it is much. You must let me give you my gratitude. May I know your name?"

The man looked at the ground and said, "I am Jean le Forestier."

Squire Terence smiled suddenly, then bowed deeply. "I am honored to meet you, Jean le Forestier. I wish you happiness in your new life here." The man looked sharply, searchingly, at Terence, and the squire added, "I will leave you in peace here and say nothing to anyone."

"Merci," whispered Jean.

Terence turned back to Lynet. "Come, my lady. I will take you home now."

Lynet took Terence's outstretched hand and stood. "I must thank you as well, Squire Terence, for you killed one of the wolves."

Terence grinned. "Yes, but I didn't need to." He glanced over his shoulder at Jean le Forestier, who was going into the tiny hut. "If I'd recognized M'sieu Jean before, I'd have let him handle it himself."

"You know him?"

"Yes, my lady. Come this way."

Terence led Lynet into the woods, following a path that only he seemed to see. Lynet stifled the impulse to ask who the woodcutter really was, but she did say, "I take it that he is more than just a woodcutter."

"No one is just a woodcutter," replied Terence. "A person's always more than his present occupation."

"Like you, for instance," Lynet said drily. "You are more than a squire."

"Oh, yes," Terence replied pleasantly.

"I knew the first time I saw you, back at Camelot, that you were more than you seemed." Terence did not answer, and Lynet pressed on. "Roger calls you uncanny and says that you're from the Other World."

"Your friend Roger knows about the Other World, does he? Very interesting fellow, this Roger." Terence flashed Lynet a grin. "You might say that he's more than he seems, as well."

Terence was right. Lynet would have to think more about that when she had time, but now she had other questions. "How did you just happen to be nearby when the wolves attacked, anyway?"

"Nothing very amazing. I've been following you all afternoon. As M'sieu Jean said, it really isn't safe for a lady alone in the forest. And remember, Lady Eileen asked me to keep an eye on you."

"But I never heard a sound!" Lynet exclaimed. Terence only shrugged, and Lynet shook her head. "Roger's right. You are uncanny."

They walked on in silence for several minutes as the forest darkened around them. A soft, continuous sound came to Lynet's attention, and it grew louder as they walked. A moment later they stepped out of the woods onto the bank of a small river. A smooth curtain of water flowed over a long flat rock, forming a waterfall about five feet high.

"Where are we?" Lynet asked. "I've never seen this before."

"I know. Come, Lady Lynet. We have to go through the water."

"I thought you said you were taking me back to the Castle," Lynet protested.

"Oh no," Terence said amiably. "I said I would take you home. This way." He pointed straight at the waterfall and held out his hand. Lynet hesitated only a second, then took his hand and walked with him into the cool water. They waded into the shallow river, then walked right through the curtain of falling water, where the mouth of a cave lay concealed behind the translucent falls. Lynet's heart pounded, but with excitement, not fear. Stooping, Terence led her into the opening, then stood in a wide, dry cavern. A torch on the wall lit the room. Lynet brushed her wet hair out of her face and looked around. On the walls were curious inscriptions and carved likenesses of animals. "Just down this passageway," Terence said. "Morgan's waiting."

"Morgan?"

"Morgan Le Fay, Gawain's aunt. I've asked her to show you some of her arts."

"What arts?" Lynet asked, confused.

"She's a sorceress." Lynet gasped, and Terence quickly added, "Don't worry. Not all sorceresses are bad. There are many who do great good. I hope that you will be that sort."

"Me? A sorceress?"

Terence nodded. "Whether you like it or not," he said gently. "Here we are."

They stepped around a black rock into a large cavern. There, in the orange glow of several torches and one large fire, stood the most beautiful woman Lynet had ever seen. The woman scowled. "At last! I've been waiting this two hours and more!" Terence smiled, but didn't answer. The woman looked at Lynet. "This is the one?"

"As you see, my lady," replied Terence.

"Hmm. Yes, I can see it now that I look at her. But I'll wager she doesn't know much."

"Why then, I'm glad that I chose for her a patient teacher," replied Terence. It seemed odd to Lynet, but the soft-spoken squire at her side seemed to be rebuking this majestic woman.

The lady pursed her lips, then curtsied elaborately. "I understand you, your grace. We're in your dominion now, so I'll be good. But allow me to say that I like you better back in the World of Men, serving drinks in Gawain's chambers."

Terence laughed quietly. "I don't doubt it," he said.

"Back in the World of Men?" asked Lynet faintly.

"You're in the Other World now, my lady," Terence replied. "I'll leave you now. Don't let Lady Morgan frighten you. She's not as fierce as she pretends to be." And then Terence slipped away down a passageway.

Lynet could not have told how long she spent in that cavern with Morgan Le Fay. Without the sun and moon to mark the days, time seemed unimportant. At first, Lynet had been hesitant before Morgan's awe-inspiring presence, but it was not in Lynet's nature to be timorous for long. Besides, Lynet soon learned that Terence was right: beneath Morgan's grand facade, she was capable of warm feelings and even generosity toward those she liked, and it soon became clear to Lynet that she was one of that select few.

Much of their time together, Morgan simply told stories. She told of faeries and spells, of strange creatures, of men and women who traveled easily between worlds and who were consequently considered wizards and magicians. "Remember that, Lynet," Morgan said. "What is called magic in the World of Men is called that only because it does not belong there. Powers and actions that are miraculous in that place are perfectly normal here."

"You mean in this world it's normal to turn people into toads or whatever it is sorceresses do?"

"The toad trick is a bit childish, but no, it would not be considered odd here." Morgan smiled suddenly. "Do you want to change someone into a toad?"

Lynet thought briefly, with a flash of pleasure, about how her sister would look as a toad, but she shook her head. "I suppose not," she said.

"If you don't care for toads, we have other spells. Rats? Pigeons? Dragons? Dwarfs? You'll be learning all these spells soon."

"You can change a person into a dwarf?" Lynet asked, surprised.

"I've never done it myself, but it's in the books. All this will come in time."

Lynet shook her head wonderingly and said nothing.

Gradually Lynet came to realize that Morgan's stories all had their reasons, though she was not able to put every story's lesson into words. She said as much to Morgan, and the enchantress nodded briefly. "In this world, almost everything is taught with stories. Much more to the point than the sort of silliness that passes for education in that other place, don't you think?"

Many of Morgan's stories were about sorceresses, beginning with the first enchantress of all, the faery queen Lilith. Lynet listened with awe to tales of cruel, grasping witches and to others about kindly magical princesses. Once she exclaimed, "But I always thought that sorceresses were evil!"

"What do you mean, 'evil'?"

Lynet had never considered the question. "You know," she said, after a moment, "unfriendly to people."

"People!" repeated Morgan derisively. "As if humans were all that mattered. Just once I'd like to see people judged by how friendly they are to sorceresses."

Lynet could not help smiling, but she said, "But we do judge people by how they treat animals and servants and those that are weaker than they. So why not judge sorceresses by how they treat people?"

Morgan frowned and looked sourly at Lynet. At last she said, "Let's not forget which of us is the teacher, dear. Back to your question—no, not all sorceresses are, as you say, unfriendly to people. But the strongest ones are."

"Why is that?"

"The enchantress who cares for no one cannot be touched by grief or worry or fear. Nothing reduces a sorceress's power so much as love."

"Do you love anyone?" Lynet asked.

Morgan's brow furrowed very slightly, then smoothed. "We are not discussing me. Do you?"

Lynet thought of Beaumains's handsome profile and felt her own brow furrow. She and Morgan were silent together for a long time.

Sometimes they would grow weary of tales. Then they would gradually grow quiet, then lapse together into a comfortable slumber on the soft dirt floor of the cavern. When they awoke, they would resume their conversation wherever they had left off, as if they had never slept.

At last, Morgan said, "I think I've done. You will never stop learning, but I've taught you what you must know, and I've never had so apt a pupil. You will never be an enchantress like me, of course." Lynet raised her eyebrows, a bit indignant, but Morgan added, "I don't mean that you'll be lesser, only different. You like humans too much."

"Well, I am one, you see," Lynet said apologetically.

"Are you?"

"Well, of course I ... what do you mean?"

"Your father was Duke Idres, was he not?" Lynet nodded, waiting. "He was well known in this world. His mother—your grandmother—was a notable enchantress, from a distinguished faery family."

"I never knew her," Lynet murmured. "Then I am part faery?"

"You are. You may never have known it, but anyone from this world could see it in you at a glance. You have the look."

"That's what Terence said," Lynet replied.

Morgan nodded. "Terence would know. He is from a very great faery family himself. He is, in fact, the Duke of Avalon."

Lynet blinked with astonishment. "And he serves as a squire in the World of Men?" she asked faintly.

"Don't ask me," Morgan said. "I don't understand it either. Anyway, the point is that you are only part human."

Lynet frowned suddenly. "But doesn't that mean that my sister is also part faery?"

"In theory," Morgan admitted, "but not really. Even in families where the faery strain is strong, you never know where it will come out. In my own family, my sisters and I are enchantresses, but among my nephews only Gawain shows his faery blood. As for his brothers Gaheris, Agrivaine, and especially that nincompoop Gareth, they're as earthbound as mud clods. And your sister, well, she's far too foolish to be anything but pure human, as you'll soon be able to observe firsthand. It is time you went back to that other place."

"You mean home?"

Morgan shook her head. "You don't know it yet, but that isn't your home anymore. This is. But for now, to keep you from homesickness, you are permitted to take a gift with you. Let me show you something." Morgan rolled aside a rock, revealing a small hole in the cavern wall. From the hole, she took out three bottles. "These are three elixers, each with its own powers, none to be taken lightly. You may choose one for your own."

"What are they?"

Morgan lifted the first bottle. "This one is a love potion."

Lynet stared at the amber liquid inside. "I thought you said that to love someone made a sorceress weak," she asked.

"Heavens, girl, don't ever take the stuff yourself. But it doesn't hurt a sorceress's powers to be adored by someone else. All you do is put a drop in a man's drink, and the next person that he sees he will love until the end of his life. Have you anyone you'd like to enslave?"

Lynet held her breath. She had only to close her eyes to see Beaumains's eyes, as they gazed adoringly at Lyonesse. When Lynet thought that she could see him gaze at her in that way, she felt almost giddy. She started to reach for the bottle, but Morgan said, "Just a moment. You ought to know the dangers."

Lynet let her hand drop, but she kept her eyes on the bottle. "What dangers?"

"First, you must make sure that the subject sees the right person immediately after taking the potion. If he sees someone else, you've made a terrible mess. That's what happened with Sir Tristram and Queen Isoult: the potion was meant for Isoult's husband, but Tristram mucked it up. And that's not even the worst danger. You see, there's no cure."

"Why is that a problem?" Lynet asked.

"Just this," Morgan said. "If you use the potion, make sure that you use it on someone you won't mind having around for the rest of your life."

Strangely enough, Lynet realized, she had never thought about the rest of her life. When she dreamed of the tall young Beaumains, she imagined the moment when he would declare his love for her, but she had never really considered what came after that. For a moment, she envisioned herself and Beaumains, middle-aged, sitting by a fire on a winter evening. What would they talk about? Her cherished picture of Beaumains seemed suddenly blurred. "I'll have to think about that," she admitted to Morgan. "What are the other potions?"

Morgan lifted the second vial, filled with a ruby red elixir. "This potion will give you beauty beyond that of any mere mortal woman. Much more practical than the love potion, I might add. With such beauty you can make anyone you like fall in love with you anyway, but there's no tiresome spell forcing the issue. What do you think?" Lynet hesitated, and Morgan seemed to read her thoughts. "Be a bit of a shock for your sister, wouldn't it?"

She was right. It would almost kill poor Lyonesse if Lynet showed up more beautiful than she was. And of course, if Beaumains had fallen in love with Lyonesse's beauty, why should he not do the same for a suddenly ravishing Lynet? Peeking at Morgan, Lynet had a sudden insight into her teacher's stunning beauty. It was tempting, but for some reason Lynet hesitated. "What is the third elixir?"

"This," Morgan said, holding up a crystal bottle filled with a clear liquid, "is a healing potion. Whatever illness, whatever wound a person has, this potion will cure it. But it has bothersome limits."

"What limits?"

"It cannot bring back one who is dead. After you've used it on a person, you can never use it on that person again—no one cheats death forever. And finally, you cannot use it on yourself." Morgan paused, then added wryly, "As you might imagine, this one's not the most popular choice among new enchantresses."

Lynet said, "I'll take that one."

It was surprisingly difficult to say goodbye to Morgan. Although the sorceress was frequently cool and unapproachable, Lynet discovered that she felt closer to this faery beauty than she had ever felt to her own sister. So it was with a leaden step that she returned to the waterfall at the cave mouth, where the World of Men began. But taking a breath, Lynet stepped resolutely through the rainbow-streaked veil of water, into the glory of a sunny day. At first, all she could do was rub her eyes and blink in the unaccustomed light, but when at last she could see, she smiled, because Terence and Robin were on the riverbank waiting for her.

"Hallo, my dear," Robin chirped. "Lovely day for bathing."

"Hello, Robin," Lynet said, smiling. "And hello, your grace."

"You're looking well, my lady," replied Terence. "I take it that Lady Morgan wasn't too unkind."

"I think she could be," Lynet said thoughtfully. "But she never was to me. What time is it? When I went into the cave, it was almost dark, and now it's full day. Was I there overnight?"

Robin giggled. "Ay, my lady, you could say that."

"Be quiet, Robin," Terence said. He turned to Lynet. "It's a bit difficult to tell how time has passed when you're between worlds, isn't it? You've been gone almost a fortnight."

Lynet gasped. "A fortnight!" she repeated in a whisper.

"It's not so bad, my lady," Terence said reassuringly. "The last time Gawain and I went home for a visit, we found that seven years had gone by when we returned here. We've had to give up birthday parties, because we don't know how old we are. Don't worry, though. Your sister and uncle haven't been worried."

"I doubt they missed me at all," Lynet said. A sudden hope occurred to her. "Do I ... must I go back to them? Now that I'm away, couldn't I go somewhere else?"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," Robin said. "Things are just getting interesting back at the castle. That's why my lord duke Terence commanded me to be here. I'm to send you home at once."

"I just asked a favor for a friend," Terence protested mildly.

"But what's going on back at the castle?" Lynet asked.

Robin looked at Terence, who nodded. Robin said, "Your uncle has just captured someone whom he plans to torture to make him reveal a secret."

"What captive? What secret?"

This time it was Terence who answered. "It's your friend Roger."