Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven (28 page)

Only Idwal was close enough to have heard that at the time, and it was clear immediately that this was precisely what had happened, because he gave both birds a shocked look—then peered at them closely and nodded.

After that, his attitude toward Nan and Sarah was not that different than his attitude toward his pupil.

The other three, however, huddled up together, and did a lot of whispering and arguing among themselves while Mari related to Idwal the story that they had told her. Nan held her breath, hoping he did not have some magical way of telling that they had not told the entire truth.

Evidently he didn’t. He listened and nodded, gave them a sharpish look when Mari spoke about Puck, and then nodded some more.

“I can see the mark of the Land-Ward on you, truly,” he said at last. “And though our lord is the Sea-Ward, and he is often more prone to rage than the Land-Ward, none of the Great Warders is evil, nor inclined to evil—nor are they inclined to war with the other Wardens. Therefore, I take that mark to be the sign that your intentions here are good.”

Nan let out her breath in a sigh of relief.

“I also see no sign on you that you have the gift for magic,” he continued. “It is unusual that you can see the Elemental creatures. But perhaps this is merely that your ability to see spirits is so broad that it extends to the Elementals.”

“That might be,” said Sarah, and shrugged a little. “It’s enough to know we aren’t going mad, actually.”

He grinned a bit. “I can well understand this. Well, Mari has made you welcome. So, welcome you are. But if you will forgive us, it is time for her lessoning.”

That wasn’t a hint, it was almost an order, and they hastily bid farewell to Mari and Idwal, while the other Selch continued to huddle and mutter—and as they walked back up the beach, stared after them. Nan could feel her neck prickle from the force of their stares.

They didn’t talk freely until they were back in their cottage—and were sure there weren’t any Elemental creatures about.

“That was a bit of a narrow escape,” Nan said, feeling as if she had just had a lesson in knife-dueling with Selim, one of the school’s guards.

“I felt sure he would know we were… stretching the truth,”
Sarah agreed, plopping gracelessly down into a chair and fanning herself.

“Stretching it? Great Harry’s ghost, we deformed it so badly it hardly looked like its former shape!” Nan exclaimed. “Do you think maybe he actually knew that, and elected not to expose us to Mari? After all, we do have Puck’s mark on us.”

“You could ask Robin yourself,” said Puck, poking his head in at an open window. “Especially if you still have some clotted cream about.”

“Well,” Mari said, when the lesson was over, since she and Idwal were alone. “Do you think those two girls were telling the truth?”

The other three Selch, who had gotten bored watching her learn to scry in a water bowl, had wandered off and not yet returned. It seemed a good time to ask such things.

“I think…” Idwal pondered the question for a moment. “I think that if they are not, it is not because they intend any harm. In fact, I think they intend only good, and the Land-Ward’s mark upon them proves that.” He pondered more. Mari kept silent, as she was used to him thinking long on a question before he finished answering it. “I think the Land-Ward knows the truth, whatever it is, and is satisfied by it. Earth and Water are allies; he would never anger Llyr.”

Mari nodded. “All right then.
I
got the feeling that some of what they told us was made right up, but it didn’t seem like they meant anything other than to have a reason to talk to us. And I
like
them, Idwal. I’d like to be friends.” Then she added, wistfully, “I haven’t got any friends but you and Da, not in the way that the girls in the village like Braith have friends. I
know
people, and they do think friendly toward us, but they aren’t actually friends.”

Idwal smiled sympathetically. “’Tis hard for the mage—more hard in these days, I think, since you dare not
be
a mage where anyone can see and you dare not speak of it. My teacher’s teacher’s teacher said it was easier on the landfolk in the days long ago, when the mage was honored and sought out for her wisdom. And
of course, it was easier for the Protheros, in the days when everyone knew of the Selch, and thought no harm that Selch brides came to the Prothero cottage.”

“I suppose you’d know all about that,” she said, “Being immortal and all.”

But to her surprise, Idwal threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Immortal? Don’t you remember what I told you? Do you forget it and now you take us Selch for the Tylwyth Teg, who do not die unless they are slain?”

She blinked at him in confusion. “You aren’t immortal?” Yes, he had told her… but now that she knew him, and knew the power in him, it seemed strange that he
wasn’t
immortal.

He shook his head. “As mortal as you—and never mind that Gethin spits that word at you as if it were a curse. We number the same years as we did when our kind walked on the land, neither more nor less than you. It is only that we can change, and are as much at home in the Water-realm as we are here in the Middle Earth.”

Well
that
certainly answered any number of questions! “That’s why you need us? Land-people that is.” she hazarded. “That’s why you’ve been keeping the Bargain going even though it’s getting harder.” He nodded.

“The Selch are not as fertile as we need,” he said. “We must replace our numbers, and that is easiest done with land-spouses. For we grow old and die, even as you do, and there are hazards in the sea as there are hazards on land. The orcas, the sharks… the great storms sometimes catch us unawares… and hunters, not knowing we are not seals.” He pondered again. “It is said that if we withdrew to the Water-realm entirely, taking ourselves from this place where there is iron that interferes with our magic, and there are strange machines now that we do not understand, and you land-folk use the sea to dispose of poison… it is said we would become more fertile on our own again.” He shrugged. “I do not know. It may be that one day it will no longer be an option, but a necessity. Many of the Tylwyth Teg began such a withdrawal centuries ago. It
is why you no longer see the very Great Ones except for the Land-Ward; if you must see them, you must go to them.”

“I—am not sure I understand you,” she replied, a more than a little confused.

“I speak of those creatures that once walked among us,” he elaborated. “The ones often taken for gods. Those who are said to dwell beneath the hills and the waves. They walk among us only rarely now.”

She thought about that. “Like the Wild Hunt?”

He nodded. “When have you ever met anyone who has seen that fearful thing himself?”

“Never,” she said firmly. Which was true. Nan and Sarah had
heard
it, when it came to take a thoroughly wicked and murderous ghost, but they hadn’t seen it.

“Which is, perhaps, just as well,” he told her, with a kind of resignation. “Many of the Great Ones were not gentle with mortals.” He waved his hand, dismissively. “But these girls, you wish them to be your friends, then?”

“Shouldn’t I?” she asked. “Is it wrong?”

“On the contrary; there is something about them, and it is not just the Mark of the Land-Ward, that makes me feel we can trust them. That is a good thing.” He beamed at her. “One can never have too many allies.”

“Good,” she said, and looked to the sea to spot the dark shapes coming back to land. “Now all we have to do is convince your kin.”

A
KNOCK
at the cottage door startled both girls as they were packing up a hamper to go down to the cottage.

Up until that moment it had been another beautiful and serene morning, full of flower-scent and lark-song, and things were going swimmingly. They had been daily visitors with Mari Prothero now for the better part of two weeks, and had been sending letters on their progress to Lord Alderscroft every other day. In the last week, they had been getting letters back—short ones, basically telling them he had read what they had written, gone over it carefully with one of his Water Masters, he was pleased with their progress, and they were to go on doing what they were doing. The latest letter, which had arrived yesterday, had added that since both they and Puck (Lord A had referred to him as the Wild Boy) felt Mari’s teacher was a sound one, although it was unusual, and he was not aware of any other case of an Elemental creature schooling the Master who could potentially command it, he would not interfere.
After all
, he had written,
someone had to teach the first Masters. There is no reason why it was not the Elementals themselves.

But he cautioned them to keep their guards up, and Nan entirely
agreed with him. Mari had not been quite as forthcoming about her situation as Nan would have liked. She suspected there was more going on with the three young Selch who were courting Mari than just the tradition of Selch and the bargain they had with the Protheros. And at some point she was going to try and tease Idwal’s motives for teaching Mari out of him.

One thing only they had not told Lord Alderscroft about, because they were both in agreement that he would probably not approve. That was, in fact, the presence of the other three Selch—and the reason for it. Mari had confided that to them only two days ago, and they both agreed that since “being courted” by preternatural creatures had nothing whatsoever to do with Mari’s magical education, it was none of Lord Alderscroft’s business. Nan was not entirely sure that
she
approved of Mari being the unwitting bargaining-piece in an agreement that her ancestors had made hundreds of years ago. But that wasn’t
her
business, either.

Except that she did wonder—if Mari knew there was an option, such as the protection of the White Lodge, would she still go along with it? That had been on Nan’s mind when she woke up this morning, and she decided to broach the subject to Sarah.

They had been discussing the matter while they packed up food for luncheon and tea, when they were startled by the knock on the door.

Nan was the one who went to open it, and blinked in consternation to find the constable for Clogwyn on the front stoop. There was a bicycle leaning up against the front gate. “Morning, miss,” he said, touching his fingers to his hat, stiffly. He said it in English, setting the tone immediately. His slightly pinched face (Sarah said he looked like a ferret) had a suspicious look to it. Nan immediately went on her guard. Though she couldn’t imagine what had brought him here, it was clearly no social call.

And he’d used English, although he was ostensibly Welsh.

Well. Interesting.

“Good morning, Constable Ewynnog,” she replied in the same language, the words feeling odd in her mouth after speaking so
much Welsh. “Is there something I can help you with?” She stood very carefully so that she blocked the door (which was, thankfully, narrow).

“Might I come in?” he asked. “There are some things I believe I should discuss with you and your sister.” He narrowed his eyes, and his face got even more pinched as he stepped forward a little, deliberately crowding her, and probably hoping to make her step back so that he could step inside.

Now, Nan hadn’t much liked the constable the times she had seen him in the village, and she liked him even less now. “Actually, constable, we were just leaving for our walks,” she said briskly, and planted both feet, crossing her arms over her chest, so that he would have to shove her to get in. “Being out in the fresh air is very important for my sister’s recovery.”

“Ah,” he said, clearly taken aback by the fact that she was
not
going to behave like a good, obedient, hospitable female and invite him in. “Well then, perhaps you might answer a few questions here and now?” It was phrased as a question, but his tone made it quite clear that it was an order.

Oh, no one gives
me
orders, lad
, Nan thought, her temper rising.
Not without earning the right.

“Perhaps you might tell me by what right and for what reason you are asking them?” Nan countered sharply, drawing herself up and putting on her most prickly spinster-face. “So far as I am aware, there is nothing we have done that could cause you to be interested in our comings and goings, nor anything else about us, for that matter. You already know who we are, you already know why we’re here, and that’s quite enough for anyone. We keep ourselves to ourselves, and we thank others to do the same.”