Warlock`s Last Ride

Seven

ROD LOOKED UP, SURPRISED BY COMPANY, THEN smiled. "Those I saw when I was a child, damsel—fairy castles and shining knights fighting dragons."

Alea smiled, too. "Do you still cheer for the knights?"

"It depends on the dragon," Rod said. "I suspect you've faced your share of them."

"Literally? Only on one planet, and they were scarcely a few feet long—wyverns, really, not true dragons."

"A local life-form?" Professional interest quickened Rod's tone, and Alea wondered how much he had given up to remain on Gramarye.

Far less than he had gained, no doubt—but enough for nostalgia. "They were, but the colonists had tamed them— not that their descendants remembered, of course. Only a few still had the skill of writing."

'Typical retrograde colony." Rod nodded. "But the oral tradition held?"

"Yes, but in its usual garbled form." Alea said. "Spaceships were incomprehensible, so their legends only told that their ancestors had come from the stars and didn't say whether or not they had brought the wyverns with them."

"Medieval?" Rod asked.

Alea nodded. "I'm beginning to realize why Magnus understood the people so well."

"Yes, he grew up with knights and wizards on every side," Rod said, "but with Newton and Einstein and Hawking in his books. I think he was twelve before he realized that not everyone was reared with that blend."

"He wasn't caught between the two cultures?"

Rod shook his head. "Never saw the slightest conflict— but then, he had a very good tutor."

"Really! I would like to meet her. Who is she?"

"A him—sort of," Rod said. "My horse, Fess."

Alea stared at him, suddenly wondering if grief had unhinged him.

"He's a robot," Rod explained, "with a very powerful computer for a brain. In fact, when I was between stars, he piloted my ship."

"Oh!" Alea laughed with relief—and saw Rod's smile widen. "But if it's a robot, why do you say it's masculine?"

"It's the tone Fess takes." Rod shrugged. "Probably because I'm male, and all but one of his previous owners have been, too. Besides, it'd be a little awkward if you fell in love with your robot—though there are stories about my grandfather."

"Such as?" Alea was beginning to feel that the old man was trying to impress her in some way and was surprised to realize she was enjoying it.

"He went a little dotty in his dotage," Rod explained, "and started seeing the world as a medieval romance. He must have thought the serving robots were wenches, because he started making passes at them."

"Not really!"

"I've always wondered about that," Rod said, "after I grew up, anyway. Was he really delusional or just putting us all on?"

"When you grew up? What did you think of him when you were little?"

"That he was an awful lot of fun." Rod's gaze strayed to Cordelia. "I hope my grandchildren think of me the same way." But he saddened.

Alea hurried to change the subject. "May I meet this cybernetic horse?"

"A.I., actually." Rod pulled his gaze back to her. "He's an artificial intelligence—though sometimes I wonder about the 'artificial' part. I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Maybe give you a ride, too."

"It wouldn't be the first time a male has taken me for a ride."

"Oh, really!" Rod frowned. "I think I'd better have a stern word with that son of mine."

"No, the problem with him is that he'd never even think of taking me for a ride."

"That's not entirely reassuring."

"Oh, you want him to think about it but not do it?" Alea rushed on so that she couldn't think about what she'd said. "You have every reason to be proud of him, especially in his conduct toward me."

"I suppose he does make you feel safe." Rod still seemed concerned.

"Dare I say he's a good boy?"

"Not if he's listening, you don't."

Alea laughed and spent the rest of the evening chatting with Magnus's father. When the guests had left and he bade her good night, then went to his room, Magnus took her aside and said, "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Taking care?" Alea asked in astonishment. "I thought he was keeping me company."

"Really!" Magnus seemed surprised.

"If he hadn't, I would have felt very awkward amidst all these strangers."

"Surely you didn't feel you were in the way!"

"Not with your father talking to me." Alea frowned. "It's surprising how comfortable I felt with him."

"Yes … He was in good spirits, wasn't he?" Magnus frowned toward the stairs, brooding.

"He was putting on a good face." Alea's tone sharpened. "You don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?"

"If that were all it was, no …"

"You don't think he's grieving enough?"

"You could say that." Magnus turned back to her, face creased with worry.

Alea stared at him in surprise, then realized what he wasn't saying. She touched his arm gently. "It's denial, Magnus. It will wear off."

"I hope so." Magnus turned to the stairs again. "I do hope so."

IT LASTED THE rest of that week, at least. The siblings agreed it would be better that Rod not stay in the house where he and Gwen had been young parents, so they moved back to the castle. It had happy memories, too, but they weren't so overwhelming. Rod seemed quite cheerful, quite relaxed about the matter, friendly and amiable, and went right to the room he had fitted out as a study (it had been the tower magazine). On his way, though, he told one of the servants to set up a bedroom for him in the room next door.

Other than that, he seemed quite content, poring over his books, adding a few lines to his history of Gramarye, or wandering around the castle with a very peaceful, contented look.

Magnus didn't like it. "You don't suppose he's gone back into shock, do you?"

Alea frowned. "He passed that almost at once and went into denial."

"He still is," Cordelia said. "One of us must speak to him and make sure of it."

Magnus didn't wait to be appointed. Dreading the conversation, he fell into step with his father as he wandered through the great hall. Frowning about, he said, "We must be thinking about Christmas."

"Christmas?" Rod blinked up at him. "It's scarcely September!"

"Aye, but the Yule log should be cut soon so that it may season well. Did we not always do that at the end of summer, Dad?"

"No, we usually waited till October," Rod said, but not with any sign of nostalgia, simply reporting a fact.

That gave Magnus gooseflesh. "Dad—I am glad that you are so peaceful…"

"But you wonder why?" Rod gave him a keen look. "It's because I know she's not really gone, son."

Denial! "But, Dad … she is no longer here …"

"No, she's gone away—but I know where."

Magnus stared at him. "You do?"

"Of course—to Tir Nan Og. Everybody knows that."

Magnus froze, as much as he could while still keeping pace with his father. Then he said, "Well, yes, every Celt knows that the dead go to the Land of Youth—but they stay there, Dad."

"Exactly! So all I have to do is find Tir Nan Og, and I'll have found Gwen." Rod's gaze strayed from his son's. "We only know it's in the west. I've been working through the old legends, but that's all I can find out about its location."

Magnus struggled within himself, weighing the kindness of letting Rod keep his illusions against the possibility of a "cure," of putting his father back in touch with the real world by confronting him with the truth—that his mother was dead, gone no doubt to Heaven, not Tir Nan Og, and couldn't come back. But he saw the look of peace on Rod's face, remembered his past spells of delusion, and opted in favor of sympathy.

When he told his siblings, Cordelia nodded with satisfaction and said, "The dream will sustain him until denial passes."

"Yes," said Gregory, "but then comes anger, and he is likely to seek her out to scold her for leaving him."

"A possibility," Geoffrey admitted, "but let us see him across that bridge when he comes to it."

So, when all was said and done, they did nothing—but they kept a close eye on their father while they did it.

So did Alea, reminding Rod that he had promised to introduce her to his horse. Agreeably, Rod took her on a tour of the stables and brought her to the stall where his oldest friend spent his time with mechanical patience.

The black stallion stood with his head over the stable door, munching a mouthful of hay. Alea stared; if Rod hadn't told her what Fess was, she would never have guessed.

"You can stop the charade, Fess," Rod said. "She knows what you really are. He doesn't swallow the hay, Alea— just lets it fall out of his mouth. Horses aren't known for their table manners."

"One must keep up appearances, however," the black stallion reproved him.

Alea had to fight to keep from jumping out of her skin. Even forewarned, it was a shock to hear a horse speak.

"Ever concerned for the honor of the family," Rod sighed. "Fess, this is Alea, Magnus's companion."

"I am honored to meet you, Damsel Alea. I have heard of you from Gregory's reports."

"Well, I'm here to set the record straight." Alea managed a smile. "This kind gentleman tells me you were Gar's tutor—excuse me, I mean 'Magnus.' Gar is the alias he assumes when he lands on a planet to start another revolution."

"A wise precaution, and one that preserves the family's reputation," Fess agreed. "I was indeed Magnus's tutor and found him an excellent student."

"But as naughty as any little boy?"

"Rarely," Fess said. "He was aware that he had to set an example for his younger brothers and sister. In fact, one might say he seemed to feel responsible for their behavior."

Alea frowned. "I'll have to make sure he doesn't feel that way any more."

Rod smiled. "Good luck. Habits of thought that start that early are awfully hard to shake."

"Surely he realizes they're grown now!"

"Yes, but I do not think he acknowledges that they have become capable of assuming responsibility for their own lives," Fess told her, "especially since, when he left Gramarye, they were all still adolescents."

"He wasn't much more than that himself." Rod shook his head. "How could I ever have let him go?"

"Did you have a choice?" Alea covered a laugh. "I can imagine anyone trying to keep Gar from doing what he thought right!"

"It would have been counterproductive," the horse agreed. "You speak as one who knows."

"Oh, I've never known him to do anything he knew was wrong," Alea said. "Foolish, perhaps, but not wrong."

"And you attempted to stop him?"

Alea remembered Gar's exasperated search for a government on a planet where there seemed to be none. "No. But I did try to explain why it wouldn't do any good."

"Did he listen?"

"Of course not! But he found the facts for himself."

The horse nodded. "He is still Magnus, under the layers of experience he has accreted."

That, Alea was glad not to dispute—but the more they talked, the more she learned about the child who had been Magnus, and how much of that little boy was still there, carefully hidden and protected, inside the giant she knew.

As they discussed Fess's memories, though, Rod began to look nostalgic, then sad. Realizing that immersion in the past might not be the best thing for him at the moment, Alea ended the conversation and left the stable, telling Rod of her first meeting with Magnus. He was fascinated, so she went on to detail their wanderings on her home world of Midgard—and realized that it wasn't the wonders of the giants and dwarves that interested Rod, but the deeds of the boy who had grown into a very effective social engineer.

OVER THE NEXT few days, she had a chance for a conversation with each of Magnus's siblings and their spouses—though she kept avoiding Allouette. Rod strolled about the castle with a distant gaze and a soft smile; she came across him several times and, not liking his look of not being quite there, engaged him in conversation to bring him back to the here and now. Rod always proved capable of drawing laughter from her, and she returned the favor.

On the third evening, when the others had gone up to bed, she and Magnus sat by the fire talking a little longer— or rather, Alea talked, trying to draw Magnus out of brooding. Finally, exasperated, she said, "You're really not the most cheerful companion right now, Magnus. What's wrong?"

"I'm worried about him," Magnus told her, "about Papa."

"Yes, I know what you mean." Alea frowned. "He doesn't seem to be quite here all the time, does he?"

"No—and he's far too happy being wherever he is."

"You're worried that he might decide to stay there?" Alea shook her head. "He has children here, Magnus. Each of you gives him a stake in the real world. But he does have to work his way through his grief."

"Yes, if it doesn't unhinge him," Magnus said. "I hadn't thought to mention it, but he hasn't always been of excellent mental health."

"You mean he's had bouts of insanity?" Alea stared. "Surely not!"

"His psyche has taken a real battering over the years." Magnus's gaze strayed to the fire. "The worst was when his enemies managed to feed him a chestnut made of witch-moss."

Alea froze in horror.

"We all ate them," Magnus said, "but a quarter of Mama's genes were made of witch-moss anyway, and ours were an eighth, so it did us no harm. With Papa, however, it sent him into delusions, and it took Mama a while to figure out how to cure him."

"He … he wasn't dangerous, was he?"

"He could have been, I suppose," Magnus said, "but we had elves watching him wherever he went, and I was old enough to shadow him and come running when I was needed. Mama restored him to his senses—she was always a very stabilizing influence."

"And she's not here any more," Alea whispered.

"No. I'm not sure Papa realizes that." Magnus held up a palm. "Oh, I'm sure he won't become a danger to anyone— but I don't think it's good for him to be lost in the past."

"Give him time," Alea counseled. "Give him time."

THE NEXT MORNING, a mental clamor awakened Alea. She sat bolt-upright in bed, hearing Magnus and his siblings exchanging emergency cries: He has saddled Fess! He rides toward the gatehouse! Stop him!

Alea scrambled to pull on a dress, rammed her feet into her boots, and ran down the stairs.

She came out into the courtyard in time to see Magnus dashing to the gatehouse tunnel just in time to cut off Fess. The great black horse drew to a halt.

Alea ran to join him. Cordelia and Quicksilver beat her to it, but not by much. Alain, Geoffrey, and Gregory came up right behind her with Allouette behind them.

"You've come out to see me off!" Rod smiled around at his children and in-laws. "That's awfully good of you."

"Not at all, Dad," Magnus panted. "Planning to … be gone long?"

"As long as it takes." Rod reached behind and slapped a bulging saddlebag. "Don't worry, I've packed the necessities."

"Yes, and you're quite adept at hunting and camping, I know." Magnus glanced at his brothers and sister, all trying to hide their alarm. He glanced back at Rod. "So if you've packed that much, you must be planning a long trip."

Rod shrugged and said again, "As long as it takes."

"May I… ask your destination?"

"Tir Nan Og."

The siblings froze and Alea shared their horror. Tir Nan Og may have been the Celtic Land of Eternal Youth—but it was also the Land of the Dead.

Rod saw their fear for him and leaned down with a gentle smile. "She's out there somewhere, children. She's gone to Tir Nan Og, and someone somewhere among the living will know where it lies."

Cordelia's thought fairly shrieked: Denial!

Magnus was very still for a moment. Then he said, "Of course."

Cordelia whirled to glare at him in disbelief. Quicksilver looked to be on the verge of rage, and the brothers stared at Magnus as though he'd taken leave of his senses—but the alarm faded from Alain's face. He lifted his head slowly, then nodded.

Magnus darted a look of appeal to them all that clearly said, Trust me, then turned back to his father. "Yes, of course, you have to go search for her. It's fitting, after all."

Rod frowned. "Fitting?"

"Of course," Magnus said, "You spent the first thirty years of your life looking for her. It's appropriate that you spend the last in the same search."

Rod nodded, pleased. "I'm glad you understand."

"It does give your life a certain symmetry," Magnus said. "You will—write home often?"

"Oh, of course." Rod frowned, concerned, and leaned down to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't for a moment think that I'm leaving you." He turned to his other children. "You know I love you all very much, and if you have the slightest need of me, I'll be back in a second—but I have to do this."

Allouette stifled a sob, and Cordelia swallowed tears, but they both nodded.

"How shall we reach you if we need you?" Quicksilver asked.

"By telepathy, of course," Rod said, "and you can always ask the elves where I am. I'm not foolish enough to think that I can go wandering through Gramarye without a pixie having an eye on me every step of the way."

"The Wee Folk have always been your allies," Magnus agreed, and stepped aside, reaching up to clasp his father's hand. "Go well, Dad."

"Stay well, son." But Rod held his hand fast, anxiety creasing his face. "You'll take care of them for me, won't you? The people of Gramarye, I mean."

Magnus froze. His siblings' heads whipped about to stare at him in shock.

"I won't try to foist off a democratic government on them," Magnus warned.

Rod nodded complacently. "That's all right, son. I only ask that you protect them from any other agents who are trying to steer them into governments that are wrong for them—particularly the anarchists and totalitarians."

"Well, of course," Magnus said. "I mean, if I want to protect them from democracy if it's wrong for them, of course I'll protect them from anything else that's wrong, too."

"Why Magnus, Papa?" Cordelia demanded. "Why give him the job?"

"Because he's had more than ten years' practice overhauling governments." Rod touched her hand. "I know you have every concern for the people's welfare, darling, and Geoffrey, you'll protect them from any kind of armed invasion …"

Geoffrey nodded stiffly.

"… and Gregory, that you'll figure out how to fend off any magical attacks—but governments are Magnus's specialty now."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, Dad," Magnus said slowly.

"I was a bit late acknowledging my own abilities, too," Rod told him, then leaned down to kiss Cordelia and straightened up to clasp Geoffrey's hand, then Gregory's. "You know I'll be thinking about you constantly. If you need me, just spare me a thought."

"We will, Papa," Cordelia said, voice thick with tears.

Rod nodded, satisfied. "I'll be home for Christmas, if I haven't found her by then. Take care of each other, children."

"We will, Papa," Gregory assured him.

Rod gave them all a radiant smile, then turned his head forward and kicked his heels into Fess's sides. The great black horse stepped forward, saying, "Excuse me, Magnus."

"Yes, of course." Magnus stepped aside. "Godspeed, Dad."

"Godspeed," everyone called.

Rod waved and rode into the gatehouse tunnel.

Cordelia whirled to a nearby guard, snatched his spear, leaped astride it and rose circling toward the battlements.

Alea stared; she had never seen such a sight.

Gregory threw his arm around Alouette's waist; Geoffrey caught up with Quicksilver. With twin claps of thunder, they disappeared.

Alea stared. "What happened to them?"

"They've teleported up to the battlements," Magnus told her. "Would you like to ride the way Quicksilver did, or would you prefer to run?"

"I'll go the slow way, if you don't mind," Alea said, "but don't let me keep you."

"Thank you," Magnus said, and disappeared in a minor explosion of his own, Alea darted for the stairs to the battlements and ran up. She came out, gasping for breath, to see the brothers, sister, and spouses lined up by the battlements. She managed one more sprint to Magnus's side and watched the lone figure riding toward the woods. Dimly, she heard the sound of plucked strings.

"He's still not much of a musician," Geoffrey said.

Magnus smiled. "Your talent, brother, not ours."

"He has slipped into delusions again, of course," Cordelia said.

Magnus nodded. "There's no reason to think he'll be dangerous, though—neither to anyone else nor to himself."

"I think not," Geoffrey said, frowning. "After all, he's quite sane—except for this delusion that he can find Mama somewhere out there."

"The wandering will do him no harm," Gregory said, "and if this is his way of working through his grief, all well and good."

"It's really none of our business," Magnus said.

"Everything having to do with him is our business," Cordelia corrected him, "but it's not our place to tell him what he can and can't do."

"No," Magnus agreed. "He is a grown man, after all, and in good health—almost."

The tiny figure turned back to wave just before the road went into the forest and the leaves swallowed him up. The whole party on the wall waved back until their arms drooped in dejection. Then Geoffrey turned to Magnus, jaw jutting in defiance. "And will you seek to rule us now?"

"Of course not," Magnus said. "After all, I haven't had much luck with that since you turned twelve."

Geoffrey stared at him, then slowly smiled. "Not that it kept you from trying."

"Give me credit for having gained some maturity in my travels, brother." Magnus returned the smile. "Besides, I'm quite well aware that I am, shall we say, rather behind in recent history as it has happened in Gramarye. You surely know your own tasks better than I."

Gregory frowned and said to Geoffrey, "He says it too easily."

"Dad only told me to fend off foreign agents who might try to subvert Gramarye into following their own forms of government," Magnus reminded him. "He didn't say a single word about giving you orders."

"I'm glad you see that." But Cordelia frowned, searching his face, then turned to Alea in exasperation. "Does he mean it?"

"I can't honestly say that I've ever seen him do much in the way of giving orders," Alea said slowly. "Suggestions, yes, and he can be very persuasive—but outright orders, no."

Gregory and Geoffrey looked somewhat reassured, but Cordelia didn't look at all convinced—nor did Quicksilver, and Allouette seemed doubtful.

Magnus turned from face to face, then settled on Alain's. Slowly, he knelt.