The Unicorn Hunters: A Novel(29)

“Elesbed,” said Elesbed, after a pause. “Who are you?”

The girl drew herself up haughtily and rubbed her running nose. “I am Isabeau of Brittany.”

“Oh,” said Elesbed, pleased. “You are the duchess’s sister.”

“You are a disrespectful villein. Go away. Your cat is very disrespectful too.” Butter had twined herself around the other girl’s legs and was purring loudly.

Elesbed said, “Why are you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying! Ducal heirs don’t cry.”

Elesbed considered. “Is a ducal heir like a princess? Princesses cry in stories,” she said. “Iseult wept for a year and a day when her lover, Tristan, went away.”

“Oh—” said the other girl and dropped hard onto the cushion. “My sister is going to get married and leave us.”

It took Elesbed a moment, so far away were the casual words “my sister” from her image of the duchess of Brittany. “Yes?” she said doubtfully. “But everyone gets married and goes away. All girls, at least. And he might give her a necklace and a sheep. Won’t she like that?”

Isabeau threw her a look of tolerant scorn. “My sister’s husband will give her castles and lands and jewels and destriers.”

Elesbed didn’t know what a destrier was. “That is even better.”

“But I shall never see my sister again,” said Isabeau and began to cry once more, stormily, burying her face in her arms.

Elesbed sat beside her on the cushion. “Do you mean to sling yourself off a tower in a fit of despair?”

Isabeau blinked and looked at her sideways, tears forgotten in astonishment. “How would that help?”

“I don’t know,” Elesbed confessed. “Princesses do it in stories.”

“This isn’t a story. I wish it was. Do you know a lot of stories?” They were both stroking Butter now. The cat lounged between them with the moonlight peeping in.

Elesbed considered. “I suppose.”

Eagerly, Isabeau asked, “Do you know one about how to learn to do enchantments?”

“Well, you must go to the Lost Lands,” said Elesbed, after a moment’s thought. “And live with the korrigan-queen for a year and a day and she teaches you enchantments. But sometimes she keeps you forever and sometimes you go home and find a hundred years have passed.”

“My sister said that’s what happened to the man that came from Brocéliande. If he’s telling the truth. Only it was two hundred years for him.”

“The autumn-haired man? I don’t know. He was talking on the way but it didn’t make sense. All about blue water and a city and a king with a message. Sometimes he said, Go away, but no one was near.”

Softly, Isabeau said, “I think he has more to say. He might have been in the court of the korriganed. Mightn’t he?”

Elesbed didn’t really have any doubts on that score. “Well, yes. If he was in the Lost Lands for long and long, like he says. But his wits are astray.”

Isabeau ignored that. “He must have learned about enchantments.”

“He might have, but so? You aren’t supposed to trust enchanters. And there hasn’t been one in the world in—forever. Since Emrys.”

“Who? Oh, you mean Merlin? Well, maybe there is another now.”

Elesbed thought how strange it was that in all this great vast house, there was no one to tell the duchess and her sister that they shouldn’t storm round poking at enchanters or galloping their huge, frightening horses through the korrigan-queen’s forest. Isabeau leaped up. “Perhaps the stranger is in his right mind now, perhaps he is awake for the watch. In the morning I shall not be allowed to go. Come on.” She was already making for the door.

Elesbed had never known royal authority, certainly not embodied in a girl no older than she. She crossed her arms. “I think you are not allowed to go now.”

Isabeau turned imperiously. “Come with me, I order you.”

“I will not. Who knows what he learned in Brocéliande? My gram said that sometimes the korriganed eat your eyes.”

“Oh!” said Isabeau indignantly. “Here, then, if you’re afraid.” She thrust her hand into her robe and brought out something pink. Elesbed eyed it suspiciously. “It’s nice,” said Isabeau. “It’s cotignac. My sister and I made it together, from the quinces.” Her lip started to quiver. “You eat it.”

Elesbed stuffed the whole thing into her mouth. She almost cried too, for joy, because it was very delicious. She’d never tasted real sugar.

Isabeau said, “I’ll give you more if you come with me.”

Elesbed said fervently, “I’ll do anything you say.”

“Goodness,” said Isabeau. “It wasn’t that— Oh, all right. Let us go. I know where they put the stranger, perhaps he will be awake— Wait, what’s this?” A stray beam of moonlight had revealed a large kerchief lying forgotten across the vast great coffer. “Oh,” said Isabeau appreciatively. “It’s nice and soft. I shall wear it tied round me—there. Now I am almost wearing a dress.”

Elesbed hadn’t realized that Isabeau’s long and very beautiful robe was not a dress. Before she could say anything, Isabeau was gone. Elesbed ran down the stairs after her, Butter following behind. It seemed the wakeful hour was ending; the smell of banked fires wafted through the castle. One last time, Elesbed tried, “You can’t speak to the autumn-haired man in daylight?”