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THE sun did finally set, as all suns are wont to do, and Maude slipped out of her father’s home when she heard his snores carried on the wind that moved through their windows. Arthur was waiting for her behind the inn.
“We must use no light,” Arthur said. “Do you know the way without it?”
“Yes,” Maude said. She had traveled this way nearly every day since her mother had died. It was a place, by the river, where her father used to bring her when she was a child, a place he said her mother sat and penned great long letters to her family in Lincastle. No one from the village ventured to this place beside the river, for it was deep in the forest, and many stories had been told of the creatures of the forest. Maude was not frightened. She had been inside many times and had always made it back out.
“Hurry, then,” Arthur said, and they both took off running. They reached the woods only by the light of the moon. “In there?” Arthur said.
Maude took his hand. “I know the way,” she said. “I have been here many times before.” She brought him to the very banks where her mother sat. Arthur looked at the water.
“Part of the Violet Sea?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Are there no mermaids in this one?” he said.
“I have never seen them,” she said. She had only heard of the magical creatures who lured men to their deaths beneath the waters.
“And you have been here many times,” he said. His eyes were difficult to see in the darkness. Though they stood in a clearing, the moon remained hidden behind the trees.
“Yes,” she said. They stood for a time, Arthur looking behind them.
“We must be sure no one has followed us,” he said.
Maude nodded and waited, while he circled the trees. When he turned back to her, she said. “Is it true that you swam the Violet Sea and lived?”
Arthur laughed. “You cannot believe everything you hear.” But he did not answer one way or another. (In truth, dear reader, no man has ever survived the swimming of the Violet Sea, for there are sea creatures a human eye could never even imagine. But that is a story for another day.)
“No, I suppose you cannot,” she said.
“Now,” Arthur said. “Magic.”
“How is it that you have managed to keep your magic hidden for so long?” Maude said.
“It was not always so,” Arthur said. “I did not always need to hide my gift. Until it became a danger.”
“Is it not always a danger?” Maude said.
Arthur looked at her. There was something mysterious about his eyes, but perhaps it was simply the moon. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose it is.” He drew a stick from his pocket, and at his touch, it became a staff. She stared in wonder, having not noticed that he did not carry his walking stick to the woods this night. He had carried it in his pocket instead.
“How?” she said.
“Not everyone can,” he said. “I have learned from many masters.”
She envied him and his travels. Were she permitted to travel, she might have learned from masters, too.
“I know nothing,” she said. “I know only that I possess the gift.”
“I shall teach you,” he said. “But it must be our secret.”
She could keep a secret. She had been keeping a secret for thirteen years.