Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven (43 page)

He was dressed in strange, rough garments, and he gazed at Puck in wonder. “Oh Oldest Old One, I have been wandering lost for so many years! The black-robed priests of the White Christ had spread across the land, my kin buried me in strange ground, with
strange rites, and there was none to show me the way to the Summer Country—” he said hoarsely, sounding as if he might cry.

This time it was Puck who hung his head. “And the shame be upon me for not doing so,” replied the Elemental.

“Nay—nay—opening the way is the work of mortal Druids and the Ladies of the Goddess,” the ancient one contradicted him. “Can this little wench with you do that thing? Her thoughts say she can.”

“So she can, but we beg a boon of you first,” Puck told him. “It is cruel to make you wait and work—”

But again the ghost interrupted him. “I have waited long, long years to pass into the Summerland, what is a night more? And the Selch-kin needs her mate and her babes. I will do this.”

And like the others, he drifted into the constable’s cottage.

This time, there was no sound from the spirits—at least none that Nan could hear—but it was evident that
something
was going on, because every window in the place was soon full of light, and they could hear the constable rushing around inside gibbering hysterically.

Tis a pleasant music, that
, observed the malicious Water Elemental who was suddenly beside them.

“And well done of you, to think we must give the man such wild visions that when he tells of them to his neighbors, they’ll think he went mad, and when he tells them to his lords, they’ll be sure of it,” Puck said warmly.

Oh, well that was the tall wench’s thinking as much as mine
, the Elemental replied with a shrug of her weed-covered shoulders.
A pretty mind she has for such things. She could work a world of mischief on folk, were she so inclined.

“Well, it’s not the sort of thing I
like
to think up,” Nan said, feeling a little guilty, because thinking of ways to torture the constable had been so much fun. It wasn’t very Christian of her… and she didn’t like to think what Sarah’s parents would say if they ever heard about it. “I mean, I only do when people deserve it…”

Puck made a
tsk
ing sound. “And what is wrong with that? Evil to
him who evil does, I say. Be done by as you did, and
someone
has to be doing the done-by.” He glanced over at Sarah. “And what are the spirits telling you?”

She had her eyes closed, and her head cocked in a “listening” position. “That he’s wedged in a corner behind a chair, and trembling from head to toe. Shall I call them back?”

“Oh yes,” Puck nodded, “I think it’s time.”

More quickly than they had gone, the four spirits came flying back to hover expectantly in front of Sarah. She cast an enquiring glance at Puck, who made a little bowing motion. “Unless I am vastly mistaken, you have a great deal of experience in this now, my pretty wench,” he said gallantly. “You began this; let your hand be the one that ends their woe.”

Sarah beamed at him, and Nan knew why. Of all the things that Sarah could do, showing spirits how to “cross over” gave her the most pleasure.

She held her hands over her head and a soft light began to shine from them. She brought them down in a double arc, drawing the outline of a pointed door in the air, then stepped a little away from it. The doorway filled with a dim, but welcoming light, and she beckoned to the male ghost.

“Thank you, thank you so very much,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. “Go and take your reward at last, for there is Summerland waiting for you, and all those you would meet again.”

The man gave a little, glad cry, and rushed through the door. For a moment after he had gone, there was a scent of lupines and violets and grass warmed under the sun.

Then Sarah turned to the woman. “Would you—”

The spirit trembled. “I fear the anger of Heaven,” she said, sounding as if she would weep. “I do not see how this balances the scales. Even if I escape the fires of Hell, how could Heaven welcome me?”

“Then take the middle way, and Summerland,” Puck said instantly. “Go there and learn goodness. It is in
my
purview and I give you leave to go there, and learn to be better.”

The woman did not hesitate, but rushed after the man. This time the scent that lingered was of rue and rosemary and heated earth.

The second of the children piped up in a nervous voice. “Please…”

But before Sarah or Puck could say anything, the doorway brightened until it was too bright to look on, and the light shone on the faces of the child-ghosts. The pale, wispy things looked alarmed for just a moment, and then, suddenly, their expressions filled with wonder and joy, and without another word, the elder seized the younger’s hand, and they ran through the doorway, laughing. There came a sound of music from far off, and the strong perfume of lilies, roses, and carnations.

And the doorway faded, and was gone.

Puck looked at Sarah with new respect. “Oh
well
done, sweeting.”

Sarah looked embarrassed. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said, voice trailing off. Mari looked dumbfounded, astonished, and as if she wanted to ask something but didn’t quite dare.

Well! If we are all done with our love-feast, will you give me leave to get
on
with it?
The acerbic voice of the Water Elemental made them all jump.

Puck laughed, and made another gesture. This time an odd little half-human head popped out of the ground.

“And have you found it? And cleared the way?” Puck asked.

Done and done
, said the gravelly voice.
The spring is found, the way is cleared, the path is made. Just let yon water-wench call, and the spring will come.

The Water Elemental did not wait to be invited. With a grand gesture and a shrill cry, she stamped her foot on the ground.

And water gushed out of the hillside right above the cottage. The air was full of spray and the smell of wet rock and mud, and the sound of water in a great hurry.

You couldn’t say that it
flowed
toward the cottage, for that was too tame a word. It was as if a stream in full fury of a spring flood
erupted towards the cottage, and in far less time than it took Nan to take it all in, the water had hit the side of the building and plunged underneath it.

It hadn’t
really
disappeared, of course. It was just taking the channels that the gnome had cut for it and into which the Water spirit was guiding it.

Right into the cottage.

With a shriek of pure panic, the front door burst open, and the constable, propelled by a rush of water, ran out into the street.

This had, as Nan had hoped, been the last straw. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, heading—well, she didn’t know where he was heading. It didn’t matter as long as he didn’t come back too soon.

The Water Elemental made another gesture and the water stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Nan, Mari, and Sarah ran for the front of the cottage. The Elemental made a different gesture, and the ground began drying so quickly that by the time they got to the open front door, there was no sign that any water had ever been there. Puck followed at a more leisurely pace.

Daffyd Prothero was beating on the door of the cell, yelling in hysterical fear himself, and Nan didn’t blame him, since he’d been awakened by water that had probably been up to his waist, and was locked in a little stone cell with no window and only an iron grate in the door. Furthermore, he had watched the constable, the only man who could get him out, go pelting away as fast as he could. He must have thought he was going to drown.

As Mari reassured her father, Nan and Sarah let him out—easy enough, since the door was only barred on this side and it was a matter of moments to lift the bar and let him out, then drop it back in place again to leave another puzzle for the constable to have to explain. Meanwhile Daffyd was demanding that Mari tell him what the
hell
was going on, and not waiting for her to actually do so, until finally Mari picked up a pan from the floor that was still full of water and dashed it into his face.

“Now—” she said into the silence. “Da, shut up. You will go with
Sarah and this—fellow.” Behind her, Puck saluted, and Daffyd stared. “Nan and I are going after Idwal and the babies. We
need
to be able to concentrate on what we’re doing without worrying about you going and doing something daft, so you
promise
me, on your life, that you will
stay
with Sarah and Robin and you
won’t
leave them until I come to tell you it’s all right. Because I won’t be rescuing my man only to find my da dangling at rope’s end when I return! Do you hear me?”

Daffyd was so astonished all he could do was nod.

“Good.” Mari gestured to Puck. “Please take him.”

“Wait!” Daffyd shouted.
“Where?”

“Underhill of course, you daft beggar,” Puck said with impatience, while a couple of little gnomish brownies scurried about the constable’s cottage, setting things to rights so that he would have even
more
explaining to do. “You know who and what I am! It’s the safest place for the likes of you for now.”

“But wait—that’s—I don’t want to come out a hundred years from now!” Daffyd said hysterically.

Puck sighed. “Daffyd Prothero, you and your line is more Selch than mortal. Underhill will have no hold on you, and you’ll come to no harm. Enough of your blathering! All of you, join hands!” He seized Sarah’s who seized Nan’s, who grabbed Mari’s, who took her father’s—

And in a flash of moonlight and a smell of heather, they were standing on the beach in front of the Prothero cottage. Now Mari took charge again.

“Da, go with Robin. Sarah, can you stay here?”

“Surely,” Sarah replied. “No one expects us up at Gower Cottage for days yet. Robin, if anyone comes searching here for Daffyd? Can you hide me?”

“Easy done,” Puck assured her. “And Nan too, should that come to pass.”

“Nan, have you got the bundle ready?” Mari asked, turning to her.

Nan dashed into the cottage, as Sarah picked up their bicycles, and moved them both into the cover of a bit of canvas and some
firewood. “I do now,” she declared, coming out with it in her hand. I just hope I don’t get seasick in that little teacup of yours.”

“I do too,” Mari said somberly, and paused long enough to kiss her father. “Behave yourself, Da. I’ll see you soon, with Idwal and the babies. Take him, Robin!”

Before Daffyd could try and escape, Robin grabbed his arm, and they vanished. Sarah went into the Prothero cottage to wake the birds and let them know what was happening. Mari looked at Nan, who nodded back.

“Time to go,” said Nan.

N
AN
stood in the cold sea with the water lapping at her ankles and tried not to think too hard about going out on it in a frail little construction of hide and wood and tarred canvas. On the one hand, she did want to help Mari in every way she could. On the other, she really didn’t want to be on the open ocean in a tiny coracle. She couldn’t imagine how Daffyd Prothero kept the wretched thing from capsizing in good, calm weather, much less in the winter storms he had taken the thing out in. And to cram
two
people into a boat made for one? That was insane.

Well,
nothing
was going to happen unless she could make this next part of the plan work. It all rested on her shoulders at the moment.

So she stood in the surf, and thought on all of the saddest things she could, until finally she landed on the day that her grandmother, the only person who had really cared for her as a tiny child, had died.

And that did it; she felt her eyes starting to burn, she remembered how devastated she had been, how her mother had dragged her away, cursing, and sent her out to beg, and how when she had
come back every trace of the old woman was gone and her mother was drinking the gin that selling Granny’s pitiful possessions had bought her. Her mother had even sold the little handkerchief-dolly Granny had made for her. That terrible, terrible loss welled up inside, and she let the tears come, counting them as they fell into the sea at her feet, and drying the rest on her sleeve when the number reached seven. Then she took a deep breath, steadied herself and reminded herself that it had been a long time ago, and there was someone else grieving and in need right
now
.

“Rhodri!” she called out over the quiet ocean. “Rhodri! Rhodri! Come to me! Come to me! Come to me!” Threes, always threes; repeating things in triples seemed to be the backbone of much Celtic magic.

For a moment she thought the magic wasn’t going to work. Then, as she peered over the moon-spangled waves of the sea, far, far off, she spotted something moving. It neared, as a breeze sprang up and sent the wind from the sea to fan her face, a humped shape moving swiftly through the water, ripples spreading out to either side of it. It heaved itself up into the shallows—showing that the creature was a strong bull-seal—then heaved itself up and up and—