Feynard (71 page)

Kevin, counting himself lucky not to lose a finger when covering her mouth with his hand, replaced his fingers with a
kiss. “Beloved, the plume of smoke you saw was me losing my temper to the tune of a rather large fireball. I damaged several trees, but the Dryads promised they’d fix them. Dreadfully sorry about that–but she called you a vixen, too. A ‘poxy little vixen’, to be precise. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I told her she should ask you first.”

Slowly, a smile formed on Alliathiune’s lips, but there were still storm-clouds in her eyes. “So you didn’t touch her?”

If he had done, Kevin knew, being tossed into a salad would be the best outcome he could have hoped for. “Nope,” he said, definitively. “Instead, the Mighty High Wizard convinced the Dryad Queen to abdicate her throne in favour of her younger sister, Mayilliathiune–your favourite Aunt.”

If only he had a camera to capture the moment! Alliathiune, utterly speechless, gaped at him as though he had gone utterly
and irremediably loopy. She mouthed, ‘
What?
’ And when she began to realise that he was serious, her shock only multiplied.

Kevin bowed
to her and, taking her hands in his, kissed her tiny fingers one by one, all ten of them. “Furthermore, I am allowed to accompany you into
Dryadell
to meet your mother. I believe that makes me the first Human ever to walk those hallowed paths.”

“You … all those questions
yester-lighttime about my family, about Mayilliathiune …”

“Yes, dear one.”

“The consultation with the Unicorn law specialist …?”

“Was about Dryadic law.
I believe that holding one Dryad’s life ransom in exchange for obedience in a matter relating to the Forest’s survival is about as flagrant a breach of Dryadic law as anyone can possibly imagine. There are a few conditions under which the throne–”

Alliathiune shook her head. “You
made her abdicate?”

“I was
provoked. And I did it for you, which is no excuse, but–”

“Well!
You sneaky, conniving … sweetheart. You did that for me?” And she took his arm in a way that made him shiver in a completely different way. “Don’t let me ever provoke you to wrath. I can’t believe you–you come here on an errand for your wife-to-be, and you engage in a little recreational regime change on the side?”

“I think I
rather fancy political discussion by fireball. It cuts short a great deal of bother.” And he chuckled, but without mirth. “I learned from Brian just how seductive power can be, dear Alliathiune. Don’t let me ever say that except as a joke, alright? Will you hold me to that? Promise?”

She nodded.

“Then let’s go find your mother, and see what’s so amazing about Dryadell, the secret home of the Dryads.”

“Budding season is the very best time,” Alliathiune said
, with a bright smile and a skip of excitement. “If you’ve ever imagined paradise …”

Chattering away, the Dryad led him along a pretty path deeper into the woods.
He had to jog to keep up with her. At length Kevin began to see Indomalion peeping through the thinning foliage, and a most subtle and intoxicating fragrance came to his nostrils.

“Smell that?” asked Alliathiune. “That’s our trees–we call them
Dryalê-iuoue-än
, which means ‘the aroma which reaches for beauty’ in Standard. In all Feynard, they grow only here.”

The trees drew back, and Kevin caught his breath.

Coppery sunshine poured down upon a great ravine, perhaps half a mile wide, which stepped down from his vantage-point in a great series of flower- and fern-festooned natural terraces into its vegetation-choked depths. Many waterfalls, more than he could count, tumbled gurgling and laughing over the edges of those steps. Water birds made their homes around still, clear ponds and reed-fringed brooks–and the butterflies! What he had taken for clouds of mist were indeed shimmering flotillas of myriad butterflies, riding the gentle, perfumed breeze as they flitted from one flower to the next.

As his eye began to sort out details, Kevin realised that lower down in the ravine, gigantic trees grew horizontally out of its sides and almost all the way across, trees that were so laden with pure white blossoms that it was hard to imagine how they remained rooted under such a heavy load. They intertwined across the breadth of the ravine, forming a kind of organic platform where, squinting, he made out the miniscule figures of Dryads attending what must be flower gardens, vegetable patches, and homes.
He wondered if there were many Dryad children. The Unicorn scholars said they had never seen a Dryad child.

Kevin squeaked, “What’s
that?
”

Alliathiune laughed merrily at his response.
She trilled a word at him. When he pulled a face and made gargling noises in his throat, she tried, “Um … let’s see. Monkey? No. What would that be in Standard Driadornese?”

“
It’s as big as a house! Bigger–some kind of white hairy mountain-ape?”

The Dryad let him down a little path, explaining, “
Yes, I suppose ‘ape’ comes reasonably close. It’s rare to see one in the daytime. They’re plant-eaters, very shy and gentle. They have been known to rescue lost Dryad children. So? What do you think?” Her hand gesture took in all of Dryadell. “Stunning? Incomparable?”

It was stunning, he agreed. How would he convince Alliathiune to have the Dryads fan out across the Seventy-Seven Hills to heal their Forest? Through the Magisoul he had done much, the
true extent of the Forest was many times greater still. He could not banish the memory of what he had seen from the air. But not today. Today was about reuniting Alliathiune with her mother, and learning perhaps if Alliathiune was the daughter of the Ra’luun King, he reflected–another piece of the puzzle which described his wife-to be.

But h
ow strange it must be to live in a community of only females. Kevin hoped they would give that ape-thing a very wide berth.

“
Just when you think you know something of the Forest, She surprises you.”

The Dryad looked pleased. “I’ll make a believer of you yet.”

“Your little slice of paradise is wonderful, dear one. No wonder Dryads are such homebodies.”

“Homebodies? You’re just trying to stir up trouble. Feebly. That reminds me, I’ve a new title for you–one for when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Oh?”

“Feeble Low Dabbler. It has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“And a horrid slice of truth,” Kevin groaned. “You will pay for that later, you green-skinned excuse for a vegetable.”

“Ooh. Sounds exciting, Feeble Low Dabbler. Pay how, exactly?”

He rolled his eyes at the skies.
“Please, tell me about daily life here?”

As they walked down through the beautiful gardens, Alliathiune described how the Dryads budded their homes off the
Dryalê-iuoue-än
trees, and the types of vegetables and flowers they grew in their gardens, and how some Dryads chose to live in the busy community while others followed a much simpler life, far from anyone, in a dell or wood somewhere in Driadorn. Kevin learned that the Dryads kept bees for honey and trained long-beaked hummingbirds to harvest nectar for them, which was a great delicacy. In several places they descended flights of steps, which were formed out of living trees grown that way on purpose, and stepped through the little brooks to reach another section of path.

Alliathiune stopped him from flapping at an inquisitive butterfly with his hands. “They don’t bite, good Kevin.
This is a turquoise-spotted giant monarch. And that one–”

At length, amidst a meandering lecture on the unique plant and animal life of Dryadell, they came
into the village, which was nothing more than a denser collection of branch-budded homes, covered in trailing flowering vines. Kevin’s presence attracted huge curiosity. In no time, they had gathered an audience of several hundred petite Dryads. Many of their number wore nothing more than a loincloth and their natural beauty, and the Dryads were all young-looking. Even those who had slight creases around their eyes still moved easily and were not unattractive.

Kevin covered his eyes. “I don’t know where to look! Help …”

“Pretend it’s all natural,” Alliathiune suggested, but he noticed she took his arm in a proprietary way. “Listen, I’ve been thinking of what I can do for my sisters. I need to put rumours to rest, and give them hope for the future.”

“Good idea,” said Kevin, fixing his gaze on a faraway tree.
“Er, what are they calling me? What’s that word?”

“Treefriend. They’re calling you Treefriend.”

That was an incredible compliment! He swallowed hard.

The Dryad Seer raised her to address the crowd in her native Dryadic. Soon, there was a collective gasp. A shouted question came her way. Alliathiune put her hand on her belly and replied peaceably. At least a dozen Dryads fainted at once, as Kevin looked on in bemusement. Others began to cry. Alliathiune answered several more questions, spoke a little further, and then clearly dismissed the gathering–fondly, but firmly.

“Well,” she said, “that’s over. I let them look with their magic.”

“They know I’m the father?”

The frown in his voice drew a giggle from the Dryad. “Of course. Now, since I promised we would help them learn how to–”

“I sense a detail a-coming which makes me
extremely uncomfortable, I’ll have you know.”

“More than you are already?
Allow me to distract you.” But she achieved this in a most unexpected way. “Good Kevin, did you ever wonder how, when I merge with a tree, my clothes come with me and reappear when I reappear?”

“Ah–
no. But now that you mention it, how do you do that?”

“Dryads are able to
pass from one tree to another, as long as they know both trees.” So saying, she stepped sideways into a branch and vanished, only to resurface instantly from a tree ten paces further down the path they were following between the houses.

“Ooh … that gives me a right turn!” And then he did a double-take. “Excuse me, now that’s cheating!”

“Distracted, my dear sweet Wizard?”

“Exceedingly.”

Alliathiune’s eyes sparkled at him. “Think of ordinary Dryad clothes like another layer of skin. Better, like bark we can shed or change at will. We do wear other fabrics, but you might call this a Dryad’s ‘standard’ attire.”

“Mmm,” he said, catching up with her. “You’re a terrible tease
, and you give me the most lascivious urges. May I dally with you, my indecently under-dressed sweetheart?”

After
such a dalliance, they moved on. Kevin wondered if Alliathiune was covering up her nervousness, because she soon became quieter, even pensive. She twirled a lock of hair in her fingers, a sure sign he had learned to identify. And she grew her loincloth out into her habitual short dress, much to his disappointment.

“We’ll have to work out how we handle all this couples’ therapy you just signed us up for,” he said, grimacing
as his imagination served up an image of him dispatching dozens of topless Dryads to the four corners of the Hills with orders to repopulate Dryadell. “I’m sure the requests are about to come flying in. I’ve a crazy notion regarding a modified
laik-Sälïph
spell tied to a piece of wood a Dryad might keep in her pocket–and imagine the change when Dryads start to bring men back here?”

“You can see the waterfall now,” Alliathiune said, pointing.

“I see.”

Silently
, she led him around a small vegetable field, out along one of the great trunks of the
Dryalê-iuoue-än
trees, which was as wide as a decent road–and passable as long as Kevin kept his eyes on the far side and did not think about how deep a ravine they might be crossing–and from there onto a rocky peninsula that jutted out of the ravine’s side. The path climbed over a root, whose thickness Kevin estimated at twice his height, and from there up to a pretty waterfall, which plunged into a crystal-clear pond. Alongside the pond stood a tall, slender tree, with lavender-coloured flowers.

“Wait here,” said Alliathiune. “
Dyalithi
are terribly shy.”

“Dear
one, if she agrees to meet me, would you ensure she’s decent? There are certain things about your mother I neither want nor need to know as yet.”

For answer, the tiny Dryad stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You sweet man, you must love me an awful lot.”

“Oh, how I suffer.”

Alliathiune approached the tree diffidently. She had not seen her mother–ever. Kevin could hardly imagine how she felt.

She stood there a long time, speaking to the tree. All that he could hear was the splashing of the waterfall and the chirping of unseen birds in the nearby bushes. Quite suddenly, he saw a face form in the bark. The Dryad gasped and bit her knuckles. A hand formed, and hesitantly reached out to touch Alliathiune’s cheek.