Charles Bewitched (5 page)

“The barrow’s on the crest
of the hill, on the other side from us,” Nando whispered. “I been up there, but
only in day. The hill’s not real high, and flat on top with a big clearing.”

Charles gazed up at it. A
faint flickering glow—torchlight, perhaps?—could be seen from the summit.
“Lorrie was right to have us wait. If we’re careful, we shouldn’t be heard over
the music. We’ll go up, get an idea of how many there are, and see if we can’t
spot Persy.”

They crept up the hill,
trying to move as soundlessly as possible from tree to tree. The music and
laughter grew louder as they ascended, till just below the hill’s crown it was
as loud as any of the parties Charles had attended with Mama and Papa this past
Christmas for his first forays into Society. He exchanged one last nod with
Nando, then crawled to a tree at the edge of the clearing. After a few deep
breaths, he rose to his knees, then to his feet, and peered around its trunk.

Light dazzled him, making
him blink and squint. Golden-red light from torches stuck in the ground at
intervals around the broad clearing mingled with dimmer light from the waning
half-moon, which had been hidden by the trees while he and Nando had padded
through the woods. After a moment his eyes adjusted, only to be dazzled in a
different way.

At least a hundred figures
were gathered on the hilltop. Their attire varied wildly—from several who
looked as though they’d stepped from a Botticelli painting to one girl who
appeared to be clad entirely in feathers, to others dressed in leaves, or
skins, or fluttering classical-like draperies, or what looked like the latest
Bond Street fashions.

Perhaps two-thirds of them
were dancing, arranged in two concentric circles around a small group of
musicians. The two circles somehow wove in and out of each other in an
elaborate pattern as the musicians played a sprightly tune that made Charles
want to tap his toes despite its odd, eerie pitch. Others stood in small
clusters or strolled in pairs around the dancers; directly across from Charles,
a group sat in chairs at the base of the mound amid a blaze of torches, like a
lord and his entourage presiding over his court. He tried to examine them, but
the circling dancers made it impossible. Did one of them look like Persy?

Just then, the musicians
shifted into a different tune. Without a pause, the dancers re-formed into two
long lines and began what looked almost like a country dance; some of them
dropped out, while others took their places. Aha! Now he’d have a chance to see
if it truly was Persy down there. If he could move enough to see between the
lines of dancers—

“Eeee,” Nando said in his
ear. Evidently he’d decided it was his turn for a look. “Look at them! Queerer
than the stories Nana Jacaranda used to tell. Does that one have a tail?” He
pointed.

“Ssshh!” Charles pushed his
hand down but stared, just as wide-eyed as Nando. The dancer in question indeed
possessed a tail, long and ending in a tuft like a lion’s, swishing in time to
the music under her swirling silk skirt.

Then he started to notice
other oddities: dancers with bat ears, or the scaly skin of a lizard, or hands that
were anything but five-fingered. One gentleman appeared entirely unremarkable,
except for the fact that his skin, beard, and hair were a handsome shade of
indigo. His partner danced on delicate deer’s hooves.

But not all of them were
fantastical; there, making her way gracefully down to the end of the line of
dancers, was the girl dressed in a gown made of feathers. She had blonde hair
and porcelain skin and delicate features that seemed somehow familiar.

And she was looking directly
at him.

Blast! Charles dropped into
a crouch again, yanking Nando down with him, but it was too late. Within
seconds she’d picked her way through the undergrowth and stood before him. The
torchlight to her back left her face in shadow, but he could almost feel the
questioning smile on her face.

“Were you watching us, boy?”
she asked. Her voice was soft but very clear.

A fairy. He was being spoken
to by a fairy. He scrambled to his feet, feeling foolish, which was a good
thing as it left him no room to feel fear. “Er, yes.” No use lying—it was
pretty plain what he’d been doing.

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to
dance with us instead?” She held out a slim hand.

Next to him he heard Nando
give a faint warning hiss. He kept his hands at his sides. “I’ve heard
accepting an invitation like that can be dangerous.”

She laughed, and it was like
the chiming of small silver bells. “You’ve been reading too many stories. You
humans think too much of yourselves—why should we want to keep you dancing with
us for years and years? We have our own affairs to tend to, thank you very
much.”

It was on the tip of his
tongue to ask why, if they had their own affairs to manage without involving
humans, there seemed to be reason to suspect that they were quite interested in
keeping his sister on a permanent basis, but he bit the question back. This
could be an excellent opportunity to get some solid information—and see if
Persy were actually here. “What about your partner? Weren’t you already dancing
with someone?”

“Yes. What of it?” She sounded
puzzled.

It seemed that human
ballroom etiquette did not apply among the Fair Folk. “Very well, then,” he
said, and took her hand. It was soft and surprisingly warm in his. Why had he somehow
expected it to be cold?

She pulled him from his
place behind the tree—Nando thankfully stayed hidden—and they joined the end of
one of the lines of dancers. He mentally thanked Mama for having made him begin
learning to dance: by carefully watching the other dancers’ movements he was
able to catch the pattern of the steps without too much difficulty, and could
pay attention to his partner herself.

“You’re staring,” she said
to him, after a few minutes.

“Oh. Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to be rude.” He felt himself blush. But it was impossible not to stare at
her; beside the remarkable feathery dress, she was…well, not that he saw many
girls or paid them much attention when he did, but she seemed like an
uncommonly pretty one. Her features were delicately drawn, and her hair under a
sort of coronet of blue feathers (were there birds in England with blue
feathers, or had they come from a more exotic place?) was a shining gold,
almost like the light that suffused the clearing. There was something about her
that reminded him of Princess Victoria—the Queen now, of course—whom he’d had
rather a crush on back when Persy had saved her. Was it the way she carried
herself, with a sense of assurance that had nothing to do with conceit and
everything to do with knowing who and what she was?

“Rude?” she said, wrinkling
her nose. “What is rude about looking at me? I have been staring at you, too.”

He swallowed. “You have?”

“Why, yes. I’ve never been
so close to a human before, apart from my mother, of course. Certainly never to
a male human. You’re rather nice to look at. And you don’t smell at all bad,
the way humans are supposed to.” The steps of the dance drew them together, and
she buried her face against his chest and inhaled. “In fact, I like how you
smell,” she said, when they stepped apart again.

“Um…thank you.” No one had
ever said anything like that to him before. It gave him a rather funny feeling.
“You—I’m sure you smell good too.”

“Do I?” To his confusion,
she pulled him out of the dance and drew close to him—sort of
nestled
,
almost—so that his face was pressed against the side of her head. “There. How
do I smell?”

Oh lord. Having a beautiful
fairy girl asking him to smell her was not how he’d planned on looking for
Persy. But it wasn’t all that bad, having her so close—in fact, it was quite
nice. He moved his face a little so as not to snuffle in her ear, which he was
sure she wouldn’t like, and breathed her in. “Like…like moonlight…and fresh-cut
hay…and pearls,” he heard himself say, and nearly fell over in surprise. What
had he just said to this girl?

“Oh!” she said, drawing back
and smiling up at him. She had a soft dimple in her chin, he noticed. “That’s
lovely. I didn’t know human senses could be that discerning.”

He wasn’t sure that his
were…and what
did
pearls smell like, anyway? It was what had come into
his mind as he moved his face against her soft hair…and dash it all, he needed
to stop this and start thinking about looking for Persy.

“So…um…you said your mother
is human.” He wondered fleetingly whom she might have been. Someone from
nearby? But he’d never heard stories of anyone disappearing from this area.

“Yes! Could you tell?” She
looked up at him from under her lashes.

“Well…you’re less…less…um….”
How could he diplomatically point out that she didn’t have hooves or horns or
the skin of a lizard? “Less…ah, ethereal.” There. That sounded like a good
word. “More…real.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, and
meant it. “So…do humans come here often and…and stay?”

“No, not often. It’s hard to
find good ones, but when we do, we’re very happy. Adding some human blood to
our lines is good for us.”

“Like manuring the fields,”
Charles couldn’t help murmuring.

She smiled as if pleased
with his cleverness. “Exactly! Which is why it’s important to find the right
kind. In fact, that’s why we’re dancing tonight—to celebrate that my brother
has taken a bride.”

Cold excitement gripped him.
“Really? A human one?”

“Yes—isn’t it nice? He was
too busy to take her when he first found her—the wights had been giving us some
trouble—but now he has. It was more than time for him to marry. I shall enjoy
having a niece or nephew…at least, I suppose I shall.” Her mouth drew down in a
small frown. “Maybe he’ll stopping treating
me
as the baby of the
family, then.”

Ha. It wasn’t just humans
who had that problem, it seemed. “I had to put up with that, too.”

“Oh. So you
know
.”
She tucked her hand confidingly into his arm and propelled them into a stroll.
“Do you have a perfect elder brother who is insufferably right all the time?”

“No, I have elder sisters.
They did seem awfully bossy at times when I was younger. But they don’t do it
to me anymore, because they’re busy with their own lives.” And maybe, just
maybe, they had been right to be bossy with him. Once or twice.

“Oh.” That seemed to cheer
her. “So now that he has his bride, then he’ll leave off being…bossy? I do like
that word!—to me. Until it’s time to find me a husband…and I shan’t let him be
bossy over
that
.” The feathers in her coronet danced as she gave her
head a little toss. “The problem is that he truly
is
terribly wise and
strong and all that. He slew
dozens
of wights all by himself and
destroyed their nest so that I doubt they’ll be troubling us for a long, long
time. And he was so clever about getting his wife—see, there they are. I hope I
shall like her once she settles down. It would be dreadful if she were stupid
and lumpish.”

They had moved around the
edge of the clearing and approached the group he’d been straining to see,
seated under the torches. Now he could see that one member of the group,
dressed in a flowing gown of green like a figure in a medieval tapestry, wasn’t
so much sitting as reclining in her chair…he gave a little gasp as he saw that
it was indeed Persy.

Seated close to her was
another figure, a tall, dark-haired man with a narrow, handsome face who leaned
close to her, whispering occasionally in her ear and stroking her hand, which
lay inert in his.

It was the man he’d seen in
the churchyard all those years ago at Persy’s wedding—the “beggar” who had made
her late.

“No,” he barely whispered.
Perse looked as though she were in some sort of strange trance—not completely
limp, but not fully awake, either. Her eyes were shut, and she was almost as
pale as the folk gathered around her—a group of pretty young woman ranged to
either side, like ladies in waiting, and at least a dozen tall, serious-looking
men with bows slung behind their broad shoulders and swords belted at their
hips. And one other figure—a woman, it looked like, veiled and sitting slightly
apart from the others.

“‘No,’ what?” inquired his
companion, who evidently had sharp hearing.

“She
can’t
marry your
brother.” He was suddenly angry—as angry as he’d ever been. How dare these
creatures step in and steal his sister, as if she were a bauble they’d taken a
fancy to?

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath. “Because
she’s already married!”

She frowned. “Why do you say
she’s already married? Do you know her?”

Charles stopped. They were
in front of Persy and the seated fairy folk. He lifted his chin and said,
loudly, “Yes, I know her…and I know
you
, too, sir.” He glared at the man
at Persy’s side who glanced up inquiringly, his mouth curved in a half-smile.

“Who is this, Margaret?” he
asked. His voice was low and musical.

Margaret? Charles glanced
down at the girl on his arm. A fairy named
Margaret
?

“I don’t know. He was
watching us dance, and I liked him, so I asked him to come out and dance with
me. He
seemed
nice.” She glanced doubtfully up at him, as if she might
have been mistaken. Charles felt a pang and wished he could reassure her that
really, he was
very
nice, but now was not an opportune time.

“My name is Charles Leland,”
he said instead, and hoped it came out as boldly and bravely as he’d intended.
Thankfully, his voice chose not to break and squeak just then, as it often did
when he least wanted it to.

“You give your name freely,”
the fairy said, still with that curious half-smile on his lips.

Charles made himself meet
and hold the fairy’s gaze. “Yes, and I’ll give myself another—brother to this
woman you hold here.”

He nodded slowly, and if
anything, looked more amused. “Yes, I thought you might be. Welcome to my
court.”

“Your…court?”

“Part of it, anyway. Not all
of my court care to come through the door and join us here.” He looked at
Charles consideringly. “I wonder why you’re here, little wizard?”

Next to him, Margaret drew
in her breath. “You didn’t tell me you were a wizard!” she said.

“It, er, never came up in
our conversation,” Charles said. “You were busy telling me about your broth—”

“Oh, never mind!” she said,
cutting him off hurriedly.

The fairy lord—for he indeed
must be one, if he had a court—raised an eyebrow at her, but continued to
address Charles. “Did you think to take your sister back from me? That won’t be
possible. You should have guessed I made very certain that I bound her to me
thoroughly. She has been mine for the last five years; it is only now that it
was convenient and safe for me to bring her home.” He lifted Persy’s
unresisting hand and kissed it.

“What have you done to her?
Why won’t she wake up?” Charles demanded. Seeing him treat Persy this way made
him even angrier.

He shrugged. “Just a simple
enchantment, to calm her while we tarry here. It isn’t wise to keep humans in
the fairy lands for long, at least at first, until they’re used to it—your
systems take some time to adjust to our world. I did not wish her to be
distressed while she was here, so she is as you see her. She will grow used to
her new home soon, though. Her being a witch will help.”

Charles eyed the
bow-and-sword-bearing fairies standing behind Persy and her captor. They eyed
him back. Those swords of theirs looked unpleasantly sharp-edged, and they
looked entirely capable of wielding them with ease. There would be no snatching
Persy and fleeing after all—not with them around. It was time to try to talk
their way out of this. Talking was what he was best at, after all, or at least
that was what Pen had always said.

“What makes you so sure
she’s yours? How did you ‘bind’ her, as you say?” he asked.

“You are a thorough little
wizard, aren’t you?” The fairy lord smiled again. Charles was starting to find
that smile infuriating. “I simply made it so that your marriage ceremony would
not take. I prepared the place where your sister would tread on her way to the
wedding with the human lordling; I put down a layer of earth from the fairy
lands, so that she would tread my land and no one else’s. And before she went
into the place to be wedded, I covered her with a veil of more soil and other
material from my realm, to make a wall shutting her out from your world and
into mine. And finally, I kissed her and told her that she would be mine, and
she did not deny me. It was quite clear that it worked, for did she not sneeze
when the priest tried to bind her to her human lover?”