Rhience cocked his head and thought for a moment. "I shouldn't think so. I've a notion that evil spirits would take themselves too seriously to call themselves Snowflake. Can you imagine it? Satan and his demons gathered in council—Marduk, Mephisto, and the wicked Snowflake?"
Luneta began to laugh. "True. And I must say that Snowflake doesn't sound evil."
Snowflake's voice said, "I thank you, my dear. And please tell Brother Matthew that his insight into the spirits is quite accurate."
"Who's Brother Matthew?" Luneta asked.
Rhience stared at Luneta. "Where did you hear that name?"
Luneta tapped her ear. "Snowflake says to tell Brother Matthew that his insight into the spirits is accurate. Is it you?"
Rhience nodded, grinning. "I think I told you once that at one time I was planning to enter a religious life." Luneta nodded. "It was a bit more extreme than that. I was a novice at a monastery, nearly accepted into the cloister. While there, I took the name Matthew. It seemed more religious to me."
"As you did when you were a knight. Sir Calo-something, wasn't it?"
"Calogrenant," Rhience said. "Yes. Just like that."
"What happened at the monastery?"
"I was quite a success there," Rhience said, leaning back against a boulder and giving Luneta a lopsided smile. "I'm good at numbers and figures, and I know something of land management. Before I left to join the church, I was practically running the family estates. I think Father Abbot was grooming me to be overseer of the monastery lands."
"Would you have liked that?" Luneta asked, a little surprised.
"I think so," Rhience said. "The problem was that I wasn't as suited for the rest of monastic life. Not serious enough, you see. They were forever trying to heal me of my levity. Once my preceptor caught me telling faery stories to some of the orphans. He took me by the ear off to the scriptorium, where he made me read an improving book about some old fellow named Simeon Stylite. This chap ate only once a week, slept only a couple of hours a night, and to top it off lived the last half of his life up on top of a tower, all to prove his devotion."
"This was supposed to cure you of laughing too much?"
Rhience grinned. "Yes. And it just made me laugh, which got me two days of solitude. When I got out, I packed and left."
"So then you changed your name to Sir Calogrenant and became a knight."
"And now I've taken back my real name and become who I really am."
"A fool?" Luneta asked.
"Just so," Rhience said. He unrolled his blankets and stretched out on them. "Tell Snowflake good night for me."
They rode off before sunrise the next morning, still following Snowflake's whispered directions. It was growing late when they came to the first human they had encountered since leaving Oxford: a thick-waisted shepherdess with rosy cheeks and freckles. She was sitting on a fallen tree surrounded by her flock, but she was paying the sheep no attention, and although the winter wind was cold, she was fanning herself and making odd clucking noises. Rhience glanced quizzically at Luneta, then rode close to the shepherdess, who jumped to her feet. "Oh, lawks!" she said.
"Lawks, indeed," Rhience replied politely, inclining his head. "Truly you say so."
The girl blinked and asked, "Say what?"
"Lawks. A truer word has never been spoken."
"Lawks?" she asked.
"Lawks," Rhience repeated gravely.
"Shut up, Rhience," Luneta said. "Don't mind him. He's a fool."
The shepherdess looked at Luneta, eyeing her fine gown with admiration, then dropped a rough curtsy. "Indeed, your ladyship. I beg your pardon for being forward, and for not speaking respectful to ye when ye come up, as my mother would be shocked to hear of me not doing. But I have had such a shock!"
"Lawks," said Rhience.
"What gave you such a shock?" Luneta asked, ignoring him.
"That man! Did ye see him?"
"We saw no one," Luneta said. "Did a man threaten you?"
"Nay, your ladyship. He no more than took one look at me and he run off, which isn't hardly a surprise, considering."
"Considering what?" Luneta asked.
"Well..."The girl glanced nervously at Rhience. "I hardly like to say, miss."
"You can trust us," Luneta said.
The girl leaned forward. "It's that he weren't ... didn't have ... well, it was all just right there!"
"All what?" asked Luneta.
The girl clamped her lips shut. "That, your ladyship, I won't say for no persuading."
Luneta glanced helplessly at Rhience, but the fool only grinned. "Do you mean that this man was naked?" he asked the girl. Her face brightened to a shiny cherry color, but she nodded expressively.
"It must be him," Luneta said. "Snowflake said that he'd lost his wits." She turned to the girl. "Did you see which direction he went?"
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said. She pointed at a thick clump of bushes at the edge of a wooded area. "He saw me and just jumped up, turned around, and run off that way. He went right through those gorse bushes."
"Ouch," said Rhience.
"Just there by that big oak!" she said, pointing. "I'll never forget it! The last thing I saw as he jumped into the shrubbery was ... was..."
"His lawks," Rhience supplied.
Luneta struggled to keep her countenance, thanked the shepherdess for her help, and led the way to the wooded area. "He must be frozen," she said.
"Not to mention scratched," Rhience said. "Shocking!"
"Well, and so it was to that poor girl!" Luneta said. "It wasn't very nice of you to make fun of her, you know."
"Don't be silly. She's just had the time of her life and will bore her friends and family for many years to come, telling the story every chance she gets. Now, what do you think is back in those woods?"
They found out twenty minutes later when they rode into a clearing where a stocky man in a heavy fur robe was turning a whole haunch of venison on a spit over a cheerful fire. "Welcome, travelers!" he called. "Come and share my bounty!"
"We thank you, sir," Luneta replied, "but we must—"
"Just a minute, lass," Rhience said. "It's almost dark, and we won't be able to look much longer anyway. And perhaps this gentleman can help us." More loudly, Rhience said, "We thank you indeed, Father. 'Bounty' is the right word. That's a lovely piece of meat. The hermits of this country do well by themselves."
"God provides, my son," the old man replied, laughing. "But all I have is yours to share. How did you know I was a hermit? I didn't get around to putting on the old sackcloth this morning."
"A bit chilly for sackcloth, I would think. No, I noticed your beads on the bench by the door, and besides, who else would live in such a cottage alone like this?" Rhience dismounted and led his horse to the well while he talked.
"Who else indeed? But I must say, it's not such a bad life as I'd expected. I'm new here, you know. The last hermit in this hut died—some think of starvation."
"Indeed?" asked Rhience, casting another glance at the haunch of venison.
"But as I said, God provides."
"Do you hunt, sir?" Rhience inquired.
The hermit shook his head and beamed at them. "I'll tell you all about it while we eat, if you like."
At last able to fit a word in, Luneta said, "Before you begin, we need to ask you—"
"Let's listen to the good holy man first, Luneta," Rhience said. "I've a feeling we may learn all we want to know."
"I came here to keep a vow," the jovial man said over a delicious meal of perfectly roasted venison. "I didn't start out a hermit, as you might have guessed. I'm a butcher by trade, and to tell the truth, I haven't been a very good Christian, what with one thing and another. I don't mean I was dishonest—ask anyone and they'll tell you Godwulf the Butcher has the fairest scales anywheres about—but I do like my food and beer and I did go on the occasional spree, so that it most drives our priest up a tree when he thinks on my sins. Well, it pleased God to let me
come down deathly ill last month so that I thought I was about to cock up my toes, and here comes Father Richard saying that I might be healed if I would just make a vow to obey him for three months. Like I said, I thought I was dead anyway, so I decided to give him a bit of pleasure before I died, and I took his vow. Then, what do you think happened? I got well!"
"How disappointing," Rhience said sympathetically.
"Well, it was! Not at first, of course; I mean, I didn't mind God healing me."
"That's big of you," Rhience said.
"But it was right downheartening to think I'd just given three months of my life to that priest. And I didn't know the half of it, either. As soon as I was well, Father Richard tells me that for my three months, he wanted me to live in this forest hermitage that's just come open and say prayers all day and eat only what God provided for me."
"I knew a preceptor in a monastery once who sounds a bit like your Father Richard," Rhience commented.
"Sour bloke, eh? But then what do you think happened? Three nights ago, on my first night here, I'm just sitting by the fire listening to my gut rumble, and out of the woods crawls this young man as naked as a skinned rabbit."
Luneta shot a quick glance at Rhience, who only nodded and said, "Indeed?"
"Well, I wasn't feeling so well myself, as I said, but at least I had some clothes, and so I thought to help him. I spoke to him, but he didn't seem to understand me. Mad, you know. I'm a big fellow and handy with my fists, so I wasn't rightly afraid of him, and I soft-talked him over by the fire and put a thick fur robe over his shoulders. He went to sleep right there, and the next morning I wake up and there's a brace of rabbits, fresh killed, lying on the doorstep."
"The madman gave them to you?"
"And a fine game hen the next morning, and a whole deer today. By now we've got it all worked out regular, even if we never say a word. Every night, sometime around midnight, he comes and drops off whatever he's killed during the day and curls up in this robe by the fire and eats whatever I've cooked and left for him. I never ate so well in my life! When Father Richard said I was to eat only what God provided, you could tell he didn't expect God to provide much, but I'll tell you this—God provides like the merry dickens! I may just decide to stay a hermit!"
By this time, Rhience was shaking with laughter, clearly enjoying their jovial host very much indeed. He talked with Godwulf in high good spirits for another hour while Luneta waited. At last the best-fed hermit in England went inside to sleep off his penance.
"It sounds as if all we have to do is wait here, and Ywain will come to us," Luneta said.
"True," Rhience replied. "But let me ask you this. What will you do with him once you find him?"
Luneta had already been wondering that. "I know," she said. "When we came after him, it was because I was afraid he was in danger."
"I suppose living naked in the forest in winter could be considered danger," Rhience said.
"True. It wouldn't be my choice, anyway. But he does have a place to get warm, and he seems to be able to get food."
"You think we should leave him here?" Rhience said.
Luneta shrugged. "Even if we could drag him away by force, which I doubt, where would we take him?" Rhience nodded thoughtfully. "I don't want to make any decisions now, though," Luneta said. "I need to see him first and try to talk with him."
Luneta never got that chance. An hour or so before midnight, as she stood in the shadows of the trees, watching the fire and waiting for Ywain, a now familiar voice spoke to her, not at her ear but from beside her. "Lady Luneta," it said.
Luneta looked down to see a little bearded man with leafy hair and an impish grin. "Snowfiake?" she said.
"It's as good as most of my names," the little elf replied. "I've come to fetch you."
VII. In the Other World
Luneta stared at the little man. "Fetch me where?" she asked.
Come and see.
"Why?"
"You'll understand when you're there."
"I have to be back at midnight or so to talk to Ywain. How long will it take?"
The little man giggled. "That's a nonsense question. There's no answer."
"Why?"
"Come and see."
Luneta glanced over at Rhience, who had his back to them and was kneeling over the fire. "Why should I go anywhere with you? Why should I trust you?" she hissed.
"You've trusted me this far. It's a bit late to start wondering that now," the man replied. "As for why you should go with me, you'll come because as long as you can remember you've dreamed of getting away from your ordinary life, and I'm not ordinary."
He was right, and Luneta no longer hesitated. Pulling her cloak around her shoulders, she stepped into the woods behind the green man. After a few steps, she said, "By the way, I ought to know what to call you. Snowflake isn't your real name, is it?"
"All my names are real," Snowflake said.
He led Luneta through the forest, down trails that seemed perfectly obvious in the night but that Luneta had seen no trace of when she and Rhience had ridden over the same ground in daylight. They didn't go far. After only a few minutes, Snowflake led her to a pond. It could hardly have been more than twenty paces across, but in its center was an island, smaller around than King Arthur's Round Table, and on the island stood a tiny hut, barely large enough for one large adult to stand in.
"Here we are," Snowflake said.
"Are we going into that shack?" Luneta asked. Snowflake nodded, and Luneta said, "Good thing we're both little. How do we get there? Jump?"
By way of answer, Snowflake took Luneta's hand and stepped into the pond, pulling her in after him. At the very first step, they both plunged into water over their heads—indeed, Luneta never did know how deep the pond was, since she never touched bottom—and began paddling forward. Oddly, there was more light under the surface of the water than there was above in the night; a pure blue-green glow illuminated the water around Luneta, and she saw that the pond was much larger than she had thought. Snowflake pulled her hand to hurry her, and she paddled harder, looking around with wonder. They swam together for a long time—time itself seemed larger below the surface than it was above—and never once went up for air. It didn't occur to Luneta that she ought to breathe, and so she didn't bother. Instead, she swam through the warm, clear, beautifully lit water, enjoying the journey and forgetting everything else.
At last they came to land, and Snowflake pulled her out of the pond. They stood dripping on the shore of the island for a moment, outside the shack, while Luneta looked back to the shore where they had started. It was only about three or four paces away, across a narrow strip of black water. She could have flipped a stone to the opposite shore with her thumb. "The pond is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, isn't it?" she said, half to herself.
Snowflake giggled. "That's impossible, and you know it," he said.
Luneta nodded, then said, "I think over there—on that shore, where we started—it would have been impossible. But there are different rules here, aren't there?"
Snowflake beamed at her. "You astonish me again, my Luneta. Oh, yes, I think we're right about you." He still held her hand, and now he pulled her toward the hut and opened the door. "After you, my lady."
After her experience in the pond, Luneta was only mildly surprised to find herself in a vast stone room with high, vaulted ceilings. There were no windows, but candles lined every wall, and a great fire roared in a huge fireplace. By the fire sat her aunt, Morgan Le Fay.
"I've brought her," announced Snowflake.
"That much I can see for myself," Lady Morgan replied wryly. "Why don't you save your words for when you have something to say?"
Snowflake giggled and swept a bow. "If I spoke only when I had something important to proclaim, then I'd be as boring as you are, my most revered ladyship."
Lady Morgan turned her eyes to Luneta and examined her from head to toe. Luneta felt like a fish at the market, but she waite
d in silence. When Morgan spoke again, though, it was to Snowflake. "Are you sure of this, Robin? I see no more mark of the enchantress in her than I did six months ago at Camelot."
The elf met Lady Morgan's gaze with a limpid smile. "She has the inner ear, my lady. She heard me speak in her ear in a voice that no one else could have heard. Moreover, when we made the crossing just now she knew at once that we had entered another world, one with different rules than the one she came from."
Now Lady Morgan looked at Luneta with more interest. "Tell me, child, have you ever heard people speak of the Other World?"
Luneta shook her head. "Not exactly," she said.
"What does that mean?" Lady Morgan demanded.
"Not when I was awake. But I used to dream sometimes about going to another world, where magic wasn't magic, because it was normal, and where life was much more interesting than in my own world." Lady Morgan's eyes widened, and she shot a sharp glance at the elf. Luneta added, "I thought that was just wishful thinking, though. You see, my own life was so wretchedly ordinary that anything sounded better. You'd have to know my parents to understand."
"You forget, child, that I've known your father since he was in short coats, and I'm perfectly willing to agree that he is depressingly dull."
Luneta felt a stir of anger. "Actually, I wasn't thinking of my father so much as my mother," she said.
Lady Morgan almost smiled, which made her face appear more human. She glanced at Snowflake, whom she had called Robin. "Have you asked her yet?"
"No, my lady," he responded.
"Then how do you know she—?" Lady Morgan began.
"Lady Morgan," Luneta said firmly. "I am right in front of you. If you have anything to ask me, you may do so."
Again, Lady Morgan looked slightly less forbidding, as a trace of amusement flitted across her face. "Very well," she said. "I am here to train you to be an enchantress, if you wish it. If you do not, of course, you will be returned to the World of Men."
Luneta started to mention that she had already received some training as an enchantress, but she had a sudden hunch that Lady Morgan would not be impressed by the beauty lotions and oils that Laudine had taught her. Luneta hadn't decided whether her aunt was good or evil, but whatever she was, she wasn't trivial. Instead she said simply, "I would like to learn."