George straightened up and looked around the large room built back into the mountainside by the rock-wights. Things seemed to be in order. Rhodri and he had been unpacking books and instruments since early morning, while Rhian took charge of the Sunday hound exercise.
George had arranged the books by subject matter on the shelves. They were mostly empty, but George expected them to fill rapidly as the rock-wights began requesting more.
They could hear the sound of voices outside as the other fae arrived.
“Here, come help me,” George said. He’d decided to throw a cloth over the instruments and their associated books to make a surprise gift of them at the end, and the two of them cloaked those items to keep them inconspicuously out of the way.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t bring me anything,” Rhodri said. “Not even one exotic human instrument for my collection.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” George said. He shuddered at what Rhodri might do with an accordion.
He walked outside into the chilly sunlight. Gwyn and Ceridwen were standing by the table that Ceridwen had requested. It supported a small stack of paper held down by paperweights, and an ink well.
*Greetings.*
“They’re here,” George said.
Seething Magma flowed out of the rock-wight’s private way from deep in the ridge. She moved to the side to make room for her sister, Ash Tremor, and her daughter, Cavern Wind. Largest and last, her mother Gravel emerged onto the mountain terrace and came forward to the front of the group.
Gwyn walked past the table and bowed to Gravel.
George stepped to his side to interpret as usual, but Gravel moved instead to the table. She opened a small cavity in her body, clearly formed for the purpose, and extruded a pseudopod to take out her own bottle. Sharpening the end of the pseudopod to form a flexible split point for holding ink, she printed, quite clearly, Welcome, Gwyn, Prince of Annwn.
Gwyn smiled. “My lady, this is wonderful news. We have looked forward to speaking easily with you. Can you all read and write?”
Gravel wrote, Ceridwen and her helpers are excellent teachers, though we are still students.
“This makes the next step much easier between us.”
He gestured at the large door into the hillside. “This station, which we mutually built, is open at all times to your delegates. The front part is a courier and guard post. We can use it for sending messages to each other.”
Gravel wrote, We offer you a dozen ways in free gift. Six have already been made for you in Dyffryn Camarch. Six more are waiting for you to choose.
George had been tickled to learn that the rock-wights used a base-twelve number system, not being constrained by man’s ten-finger bias. He’d have to remind them of the difference, or the books he was delivering would make little sense.
Rhodri said, “We have the master-tokens for the Dyffryn Camarch ways already, my lord, as well as the Rescue Way, the one Mag made bringing Cloudie out of Dyffryn Camarch, which is extra. We’re finally connected directly between Madog’s old court and Daear Llosg—don’t need to go through Edgewood any more.”
“We are grateful for these favors, my lady Gravel.” He waved George over to the entrance to the rock chamber. “We have friendship gifts for you, too. Please follow George.”
The cavern carved by the rock-wights was roomy enough for the largest of them, even this group of four, though they would need to stretch their forms to bring them through the opening passage and its door.
Mag went in first and joined George. He thought to her, why not make yourselves a little way, just between the inside and outside? No reason you have to go through doors, like us.
*I will suggest that.*
A moment later, she flowed over to an empty wall and George watched a way opening form in the wall, anchored on her location. Ash Tremor flowed out of it into the empty chamber.
“What did you do?” Rhodri said. “Oh, I see. Good idea.” He automatically claimed it and left it open, adding it to the list of master-tokens he needed to make.
After everyone was inside, the rock-wights occupied about a quarter of the space. The cavernous interior began to feel much less roomy. Well, they could always expand it back into the mountain, or even set up spaces connected only by ways, as long as they had air and light. The rock-wights understand that sort of cavern building better than I do, George thought.
He walked over to the shelves, mostly bare despite the wagon-load of boxes they had just emptied. “I made an effort to bring you an introduction to some of subjects you might be interested in. These are books for students, many of them, but those students have a different background than you do. These areas of study are very large, and this is just a beginning.”
“This first little group is the start of a section on languages. We speak many languages, where I’m from, and some of the languages that aren’t alive any more are still languages of scholarship. For now, we’ve provided English dictionaries and grammars, and dictionaries for the dead languages, Latin and Greek, which are used in science. You’ll need these tools to better understand what you read in other books.”
He went through the basic categories he’d thought about a couple of weeks ago, sitting at Mariah Catlett’s computer. It felt very strange to him, the journey these books and their contents were making and the impact they would have.
As he’d expected, the books on the earth sciences were of most immediate interest, though astronomy and cosmology ran a close second.
“We distinguish between experimental sciences and observational ones,” he said. “Geology and astronomy are largely observational, for us. We don’t live long enough to make verifiable predictions. Other sciences, like chemistry, are areas where we can conduct experiments. I included some basic works on the scientific method, for you. But please remember, there are many limits to our knowledge, and the boundaries change and are rewritten with some frequency.”
He paused for emphasis. “These are not the laws of the universe,” he warned, “only our current best guesses at them, subject to change.”
*We feel the same limitations,* Seething Magma assured him.
Ash Tremor asked, *I know you are not a specialist in these fields of study, grateful though we are for your guidance. After we digest these basics, would it be possible to meet the authors, or experts in these areas? I expect we will have many questions.*
He said, for everyone’s benefit. “Ash Tremor wants to know if they can meet experts later.”
Gwyn said, “We will do our best to further your interests. There will be complications, based on our current relationship with the human world, where George comes from.”
George explained, “In other words, the humans don’t know about the fae, much less about you. We would need to find some method that didn’t jeopardize our mutual security. But I am sure something can be arranged.” He had a sudden vision of Ash Tremor tapping a computer keyboard with her pseudopods.
“For now,” he said, “let’s get as much as we can from books, and I can answer lots of simple questions. I propose we leave a piece of paper out, and you can add books, authors, subjects that you read about that you want more of. Like a shopping list.”
George continued. “Let’s talk for a moment about fragility. Our books are printed on paper, and while paper is durable, it isn’t strong. It will tear, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered. More subtly, it doesn’t do well in a moist environment, nor in a very dry one. These books can be replaced if damaged, but I don’t know what it’s like where you might be taking them. My experience with caverns is that the temperature may be constant, which is good, but the humidity can be high.”
“You’re welcome to take these books with you,” he said, “but you might want to consider reading many of them here, so that several of you can have access to the same references at the same time.”
He could tell by their postures and lack of response that they were probably discussing this among themselves.
*We will consider,* Mag told him.
Ash Tremor walked slowly down the bare cases, looking at the small set of books in each and taking one down every so often to look through it briefly. George was astonished at how adept she was in forming her pseudopods for the purpose, nimble and careful. The lack of visible eyes was disconcerting, but her huge rock body somehow conveyed an attitude of concentration. How well could she see, he wondered. Could she focus on finer objects than printed text, perhaps microscopically? There was so much they didn’t know about each other yet.
To the other three, he said, “Cavern Wind made a request last time we met, and we were very happy to accommodate it. We have a special gift—music.”
Rhodri and he removed the cloths hiding the instruments and their associated books, and the rock-wights visibly leaned forward in interest.
George did a brief introduction of each instrument, a repeat of what he’d done for Rhodri as they’d unpacked them. “We have a great many musical instruments that work on all sorts of principles, and I had to make an arbitrary selection. Some of these books will show you the possibilities but, for now, I tried to take into account those I thought would be easiest for you to use or to adapt.”
“Some of my criteria in choosing were mechanical—I don’t know if you can blow a wind instrument, though we brought a few for you to try. Other issues were materials, both fragility and suitability. Instruments have resonating parts to help them amplify sound. Those are usually made of wood, and wood is like paper in its requirements for relatively stable temperature and humidity. Those not made of wood are often made of metal, but that’s mostly for wind or brass instruments, which I excluded for now.”
He walked over to the xylophone, a medium-sized instrument with a four octave range, configured like a piano keyboard. “But there are some instruments that make a noise of themselves, when you strike them.” He picked up two mallets and played a simple tune, and the rock-wights froze in position, their attention riveted. “With an instrument like this, you can also play harmonies,” he said, and demonstrated. He set the hook. “In some of our cultures, they use resonant pieces of shaped rock instead of these metal plates. I’m sure you’ve encountered such rock before.”
He handed the mallets to Cavern Wind, and she grasped them in separate pseudopods, striking one metal plate softly, then another. Rhodri joined her and picked up two more mallets. He started to teach her a tune.
He left them there and drew Mag and Gravel away where it was quieter.
“Until we knew what you would like, we decided to provide a selection of relatively sturdy specimens. These are sample instruments, not necessarily the top quality. Once you decide what you want and how you plan to preserve or carry it, better will follow. Or we can help you figure out how to make your own, based on materials that are friendlier to your way of life. Like the books, you might want to leave them and play them here, but you’re welcome to take them with you.”
All this time, Gwyn and Ceridwen had been silent. As George wound down, he watched Ceridwen take in Ash Tremor’s focus on the books, and Cavern Wind in another corner bent over the xylophone with Rhodri, carefully avoiding touching him.
“I believe this will be the start of a great Academy,” she said, “a place where students of all kinds can come. I can see an expanding library, music rooms, perhaps a staff of teachers.”
Gwyn said, “Let’s return outside and continue our discussion.”
Ash Tremor looked up and selected three books, forming a compartment in her rock-like body to carry them.
Cavern Wind was visibly reluctant to go, but she dutifully followed, Rhodri in her wake.
Mag, George thought, how do you read, where you take the books? Isn’t it too dark?
*We have lights. I’ll show you, sometime.*
They all used the way to exit outside. George found that the setting seemed different to him, now that he had a hint of what life inside might be like, based on Ceridwen’s prediction. He could imagine pseudo-Gothic decorations around the entrance and college students passing through.
Gwyn brought his party back to the table, and Gravel came to the fore again to meet him. “I confirm a mutual defense pact for our people and an economic alliance,” he said. “What say you, my lady Gravel?”
She flowed forward and took our her ink bottle again to write. This alliance is agreeable.
She turned to George. *We touch to seal an oath. Would you allow me to reach Gwyn in this manner, through you?*
Like a handshake, he thought to her. “Gwyn, she wants to seal it by touch, through me so as not to cause you harm.”
Gwyn placed himself directly before Gravel, and George felt a momentary dread. What would happen if a rock-wight her size were to touch him directly? She was so much larger than Mag, and Mag’s touch could cause great distress.
He put himself between them, but a little to the side. Gwyn took his left hand and Gravel, in imitation of the gesture, shaped a pseudopod to take his right hand. He was prepared for another delicate probe but, as he clasped it, he was blinded by energy—the very air hummed with invisible force. He hung, suspended in a vortex of power, dimly feeling their exchange of alliance. She felt ancient to him, but Gwyn was not negligible beside her, responding.
She release him and he staggered, but Gwyn grabbed him and helped hold him up until he recovered his sight and balance.
“Thank you, kinsman,” Gwyn said. “That was… very interesting.”
Easy for you to say, George thought, as he blinked in the daylight.
At Ceridwen’s signal, the guards brought brandy and glasses to the table.
“My lady,” she said to Gravel, “we often celebrate such agreements with food and drink. I know not what to offer you, but you are welcome to our refreshments.”
Gravel delicately plucked a glass holding brandy and examined it. Then the pseudopod holding it somehow absorbed it and it vanished, glass and all.
*Will this be acceptable?*
Gravel formed a hollow with a pseudopod and held it as water accumulated slowly. When she had a cup’s worth, she carefully poured it into an empty glass.
Gwyn picked it up and sniffed, then drank. “Fine water, my lady, fresh from the winter air.”
Cavern Wind vanished into the Academy entrance way and returned carrying the small harp. She hustled over to George, and Rhodri followed.
*Please, I am afraid of breaking these wonderful things. Can you demonstrate, on me, how much pressure is correct?*
George laughed. “I need to play her like an instrument so she knows how much force to use,” he told Rhodri.
He spent the next few minutes plucking the harp strings and then plucking a thin segment of pseudopod to show her. He used the same segment to approximate how a bow was drawn across a string. He tapped her as if she were a xylophone or a drum. The third time he did that, she startled him by producing a hollow sound from a resonant chamber she opened under her surface, so they experimented for a few moments with that. Then she took over, creating a series of different resonances under her surface and varying the thickness of the covering, adding vents to the outside. She tapped the surfaces with variously hardened pseudopod tips. He left her with Rhodri humming scales while she tried to follow along, using herself as the instrument.
Belatedly, she called out, *Thank you! This is wonderful.*
My pleasure, he thought to her.
Ceridwen and Ash Tremor were conversing over by the table, and he joined them and waited for a pause.
“Ceridwen,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you have a list or set of drawings of the types of animals in the new world? I’ve just discovered that you have many which did not survive in mine, once our earliest settlers reached it thousands of years ago.”
“I don’t know if there’s a collection all in one place, but did you have any in particular you wanted to know about?”
“Well, I was wondering about the big ones, like the ground sloth. Slow, like a bear, stands taller than a man.”
“I haven’t heard of those,” she said.
He thought to himself, maybe there was some problem with the land-bridge to South America in this world.
“What about other animals from the southern continent?”
Ceridwen stared at him. “What southern continent?”
George felt his ears move back in surprise. “Um,” he said, reaching for a pen and ink, “This is the new world, where I come from.”
He sketched a rough outline map of North and South America, and marked the Blue Ridge and where they were now.
Ash Tremor froze, and the other rock-wights joined her.
*We do not know this place. We knew the land narrowed here.* She tapped the isthmus of Panama. *We thought it ended there. We do not like to chance deep water, it’s not always possible to return.*
George repeated what she said.
Gwyn said, quietly, at George’s shoulder, “We haven’t seen much of the land beyond my domain.”
Not enough people, George thought. Few children, less pressure to expand. Different priorities. Long lives and less risk for fear of losing them. Well, one thing was clear—there was going to be a market here for human maps.
Maelgwn was practicing his knife throwing behind the kennels later that day. He’d mastered the part about estimating distance and force so that the blade would hit the target point first, but he still had difficulty with precision. He remembered how long it had taken him to become accurate with a sling and was patiently trying, over and over, until it came naturally.
As he walked back from the target with his practice blades to try again, his eye was caught by Rhian, headed in the direction of the postern gate. That’s odd, he thought. She doesn’t often go out on her own. Can I stalk her undetected in the woods? It would be good training.
He scooped the blades into his small pack and muffled them with a cloth. Then he slung it over a shoulder and ran quickly behind the balineum where his movements were hidden from most observers. He lingered by the exit chatting with a guard to let her pass through the palisade first and gave her a minute to stay ahead of him. He didn’t want her spotting him as he came out onto the bare ground that surrounded the palisade. Let her enter the woods and be facing away, he thought.
When he emerged, she was gone from sight, but that didn’t worry him. He spotted a crow popping out of the trees at the spot where the main path west began. It wheeled briefly and then settled on a higher tree to watch something.
He smiled. She might as well have lit a torch. Confident that she was too far into the woods to be looking back, he dashed across the bare ground and began making up the distance.
Soon enough her destination became clear—the rock overhang that gave such a good view of the manor and its grounds. He watched from beside the path while she stood looking down for several minutes, then wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her head.
“Rhian,” Maelgwn called, softly. He didn’t want to scare her. “It’s me.” He stepped out onto the path to be visible, but kept his distance. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced up, startled, but stopped herself from grabbing a knife when she saw who it was. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, I just followed you for practice when I saw you leaving. I didn’t mean any harm.” He joined her at the overhang. “Tell me what’s the matter.”
She sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll understand.”
“Try me. I can keep a secret.”
She half-smiled. “Yes, I bet you can.” She pursed her lips. “Gwyn just told me I’ll be celebrating my coming-of age after all.”
He nodded. She’d wanted that, so there must be more to the story.
“At Lludd’s court, with all the ceremony, all the people. We’re going to leave in a couple of weeks.”
His eyes widened at that. “That’s not what you expected?”
“No. I thought it would be something here at home…”
“Isn’t this better?” he asked.
“It’s not the real reason, it can’t be. The whole family is going. Gwyn’s up to something.”
Maelgwn laughed at her and flopped down to sit at her feet. “Gwyn’s always up to something.”
She laughed half-heartedly with him and joined him on the ground. “True, but I never expected to be the one involved.”
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Of course. All I’ve ever wanted to be was huntsman someday. I waited all this time to start and now it’s only been a few months.”
“They haven’t mentioned anything about, um, a betrothal?”
“No. I’m sure they’d say something, my grandfather at least. I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”
“Good. Too soon.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Brynach’s not ready yet and neither are you.”
She blushed. “What do you know about it?”
Maelgwn couldn’t explain himself, but he knew—he had eyes. He just shook his head.
“Well, lord knows-all, you do realize you’re coming, too? All the family.”
That surprised him. “What about Dyfnallt and Gwion? Who’s going to keep an eye on them?”
“I don’t know. Brynach and Benitoe, I guess. And Ives. They’ll probably be acting huntsman while we’re away.”
She looked over at him. “I’m glad you’ll be there, foster-brother.” She poked him in the side. “Wouldn’t seem right without you popping up unexpectedly all over the place.”
He held his tongue, pleased that he’d lightened her mood. How would he fit in at Lludd’s court, he wondered. He needed to talk to his foster-father about it.
*Must you make so much noise?*
It was two days after the opening of the Academy, and Seething Magma chided her daughter Cavern Wind who was experimenting with the xylophone at one end of the large chamber cut into the rock. It was distracting her from the concentration she needed to make sense of the human textbook on plate tectonics that she was reading. Between the alien language, the writing system, and the decimal numbers, she was having difficulty absorbing the information. It would get better with time, she hoped. It was worth the work, she thought, so many interesting theories about how the planet worked.
*But listen to the difference in the overtones. Each material has a different response and you can change the sound entirely that way.*
Seething Magma was amused by her daughter’s enthusiasm and sent her an image of an excited youngling.
Cavern Wind sent back an image of a cloud raining on a fire and returned to her experimental tapping.
Before returning to her book, Seething Magma stretched her mind a bit with a quick survey of her surroundings. She felt the three ways—the one from her home, the Orchard Way to Gwyn’s court, and the little local way that gave the rock-wights easy access to the Academy from the outside.
And here came a visitor, she saw, out of the Orchard Way. She tapped his mind to see who it was, but she didn’t know him.
A stranger, alone? He began to reach out in the manner she recognized from George and Rhodri—he was looking for ways just like she did. An unknown way-adept. She could kill him, but only if he didn’t claim her first. And was he really an enemy, to be killed at first taste?
*Cavern Wind, out, follow me, right now.*
The imperative brooked no dispute and she felt her daughter behind her as she created an emergency way out of the Academy. She had enough presence of mind not to head for her clan’s home inside the Blue Ridge. She couldn’t close a way and keep this stranger out, he could follow her anywhere.
George watched the hounds as they ran easily on their trail. They hadn’t spotted this first stag yet, but the scent was strong. Behind him he could hear the field, not far back. This fixture east of the river provided good footing for the horses on the lightly frozen ground and Mosby cantered smoothly behind the pack.
*Alarm. We’re coming.*
That was Mag, he thought, and began to pull Mosby up and off to the side, away from the hounds. “Take the pack,” he called to Rhian, behind him, and he heard her “Yes, huntsman,” as she passed him.
What is it, Mag, he thought to her.
Before he could quite stop his horse, two rock-wights appeared before him, and he had to dodge quickly to avoid a collision. Mosby flattened his ears and crow-hopped, and George absently turned him away in a tight circle to calm him.
*There’s a stranger, a way-adept, behind us.*
Catching her panic, George reached out, claimed, and closed the way Mag had created.
“Was anyone else there?”
*No.*
He glanced around quickly. The hounds were still in pursuit and drawing away, but the field had broken off at the sight of two rock-wights appearing out of nowhere unexpectedly. Gwyn and the other leaders were cantering his way, and he waited a moment for them to arrive.
“Someone came to the Academy,” he told Gwyn. “A way-adept that Mag doesn’t recognize.”
“Not possible,” Gwyn said, looking pointedly at Rhodri nearby, and Maelgwn, who had made his way back to his foster-father. “Not one of ours.”
“Mag,” George said, “Go home. I’ll kill the way after you so no one can use it.”
*Agreed.*
They vanished and he waited a few moments to give them enough time to complete the transition before quietly dissolving the way to prevent anyone from pursuing, whatever their skills. He looked at Rhodri. “Coming?” he said.
“Yes, let’s go.” Rhodri brought his horse alongside George’s.
“Hadyn, Eurig—go with them,” Gwyn said. “The rest of you,” he raised his voice, “we have a fine stag to pursue. Let’s not dishonor the hounds.” He turned his horse in the direction the pack had taken and set the example by cantering after them. Hesitantly, the rest of the field followed.
George opened the way again and the four of them entered. George wanted urgently to catch this way-adept if he could, but he held back from fear of walking into some sort of trap.
In the end, it didn’t matter. They found no one when they exited the way inside the Academy. A search turned up little, and when George reached out with his beast-sense, he found only his three companions.
Rhodri had checked that the Orchard Way was still closed as soon as he emerged, and that the rock-wights’ private way back into the ridge was also still closed.
“We have a real problem,” Rhodri said to George as the four of them sat their horses outside in front of the Academy. “I have the master-token to the rock-wights’ private way because they can’t claim it themselves and I haven’t made any other tokens. But for the Orchard Way I’ve issued many tokens. It’s closed, and that would prevent even a way-adept from using it, without a token.”
Except for me, George thought. Maybe others, too?
Rhodri continued. “But there are lots of tokens. The first thing I can think of is to see if all of them are where they belong. Maybe someone lost one.”
George automatically felt for his in his vest pocket. He didn’t find it, and Rhodri noticed. “You know where it is?” he asked.
“Certainly,” George replied. On the desk in the huntsman’s office. Or maybe in my study. He didn’t really need the token, and now he realized uneasily that he wasn’t sure where it was.
Eurig said, “We have a particularly brazen spy at large. Hadyn, let’s spread the alert.”
Rhodri opened the Orchard Way for them and they vanished into it. George watched him close it again, relieved to think of his wife and foster-son out with the rest of the hunting field and not vulnerable inside the court at the moment. “Now what?” Rhodri asked.
“Now we ask Mag for the details,” George told him.
Mag, it’s safe, he thought to her. Can you hear me?
*I’m coming.*
“She’s on her way,” he told Rhodri.
In a few moments, she flowed out of the rock-wights’ private way in the rock face, without her daughter.
He quickly outlined the steps they were taking. “Did you see him?”
*I only tasted his mind and felt him prepare to look for ways.*
“And if he’d looked, he would have seen you and Windy, too, right?”
*That is what I feared.*
“Are you sure it was a ‘he?’ Can you tell us anything?”
*Definitely ‘he.’ He had a purpose. He was… dense, like hematite, not light like pumice.*
George relayed her reply to Rhodri. He didn’t know how to interpret that last bit. “Do you know anyone else like that?”
*Gwyn. Ceridwen. Not the same, but part of the taste is similar.*
George looked at Rhodri. “What do you make of that?”
Rhodri shrugged. “Not an ordinary spy, at any rate.” He told Seething Magma, “I’ll replace the master-token for the Orchard Way. If he has a stolen token, that will invalidate it.”
“But be careful,” George told her. It felt to him like a very close call, and he couldn’t keep Mag from hearing his thoughts about it.
