The Night Dance (9 page)

Morgan chortled in delight as she sliced bread for the night’s supper. She still was not exactly sure what was going on and, it was true, she had suffered a few setbacks, but, all in all, things seemed to be rolling her way.

Imagine—Vivienne suddenly appearing like that in a scrying bowl after all this time! Well, realistically, she’d probably been attempting it for years. There simply had been no one on the other end to receive her signal. But her patience had paid off at last. That Rowena had chipped her way out of the egg, eager little chick that she was, and come upon her mother’s precious bowl, which apparently had been sitting right where Vivienne had left it.

Such clever girls
, she thought as she placed the bread on a carved wooden platter.
But not so clever that they didn’t manage to get lost in the darkness
. If she hadn’t guided them out, they’d be there still.

At the time, she’d wanted to keep them from perishing there in the bowels of the earth. She thought that perhaps they’d find their way to Vivienne, who might have gotten free and regained possession of Excalibur.

If this was true, she needed to know about it.

The poison she had given to Mordred—a concoction made from the toxin of a puffer fish and the venom of a rattlesnake, both attained from sorcerers from distant lands at a very high price—could never be reproduced. It was the only thing that could have bested the power of Excalibur.

One of the two serving women picked up the platter to take into the dining hall, and Morgan followed her to the doorway but hung back on the kitchen side as the serving woman went into the dining hall.

Standing just out of sight, she observed the sisters taking their seats at the long dining table. As she stood there, she noticed that they were wearing shawls. It wasn’t especially chilly—so what were they up to?

“Why are you lurking about in the doorway, Millicent?” Helen scolded as she bustled by with the braised rabbit that would be the main course that night. “Go check that the mince pie isn’t burning.”

Morgan shot her an annoyed glance and maintained her position at the side of the doorway. The one called Rowena, the only one of them that was more than pretty, that was actually beautiful, sat slumped at the table. Lovesick, no doubt. Fool!

Morgan grinned. What a stroke of luck it had been to have the very thing she sought come walking right into the forest.

Excalibur!

If she possessed Excalibur, she would not have to care what Vivienne and her twelve offspring did. And now it was so close!

She would have believed that the handsome fellow who bore it on his hip really was a beggar—that he had stolen the sword—if she had not recognized that crippled, useless hand. The moment she had spied that, she’d known him at once. In the Welsh dialect of his hometown his name had been Bedwyr Bedrydant. It meant “Bedivere of the Perfect Sinews,” and it suited him well. It was hard to say what part of him was more delicious, that gorgeous face, with its high cheekbones and piercing eyes, or the fabulous form.

It was a shame about the hand, but obviously what they said about him was true—being one-handed had not impaired his fighting skill. She saw that for herself today when she’d assumed the shape of a fighting boulder, a rock soldier, in order to knock Excalibur out of his hands. With a wince, she gazed down at her bruised and sliced arms, which still bore the injuries he’d dealt her when he’d hacked at her with Excalibur. She hadn’t realized what a formidable opponent he would be. With Excalibur in his hand, he was nearly unbeatable.

She’d changed back into mouse form once he’d won the battle and had run halfway to the manor when she looked back to see him with Rowena. And, oh, how they had gazed at one another. Morgan had seen the face of love before and these two had an extreme case.
Bedivere might be an able knight, but now she knew his weakness, Sir Ethan’s lovely daughter.

She continued observing the girls all through the meal. Occasionally she pretended to busy herself with a task, but mostly she watched their every move.

Sir Ethan was out of sorts, grumbling surly replies to their comments. The sisters, though, seemed strangely unconcerned that they were to be bolted into their room. In fact, they appeared to be nearly giddy—with the exception of Rowena.

After dessert, Sir Ethan left his daughters under Mary’s supervision. That’s when Morgan saw what was happening. Eleanore had hidden one of the small oil lamps under her shawl and the one they called Cecily had taken another one.

Where would they need light but in the tunnels of darkness!

If they were going into the tunnels again, she was too. In a moment, she was once again in her mouse form.

“Millicent!” Helen shouted in an exasperated voice. “Where have you gone off to now?”

Morgan heard Helen’s voice like a banging gong and snickered in satisfaction as she darted through the dining hall, keeping close to the baseboards. Fast as she was, they left her behind with their much longer strides. When she arrived at their bed chamber, the door was shut. Mouse instinct kicked in and she realized she could squeeze through the tightest of spaces. In a second she was inside the bedchamber.

The room was a whirl of activity as they threw off their shawls and pulled off their dresses, tossing them to the floor. The sisters donned the nightgowns, and the delicate slippers were tucked under each bed.

The stolen lamps were shoved together and covered with a blanket in the corner before the sisters hopped into their beds, pulling the covers high.

Morgan, her whiskers twitching with anticipation, hid behind a chest and watched. Mary entered and behind her were maids carrying chamber pots. “Do you young ladies have everything you require?” she asked as the maids left.

Brianna yawned and stretched. “Everything, thank you, Mary.”

“Good night, Mary,” the other sisters sang out, almost in one voice.

“Good night, girls. Sleep well,” Mary bade them. She left and the sound of the heavy bolt being slid shut echoed in the quiet room.

First one of the small oil lamps was lit, then the other. Then Morgan heard the scratching of the heavy bed against the floor as they pushed it away from the trapdoor.

They spoke eagerly, but their voices were too loud, their tones too distorted by the intense volume for her to decipher what they were saying even though they whispered.

They put on their slippers and then pulled up the trapdoors. Drum beats and whistles floated up out of
the opening. The young women began beating their feet to the lively tune, swaying and twirling to the vibrant music.

One at a time, they descended into the hole in the floor. Morgan seized her moment and scampered down into the dark space along with them.

In her mouse form, Morgan was blasted by the music in the passageways, just as she had been the night before. That was why, when the sisters found her, she had been in such a hurry to get out of the tunnel. Now her ears ached again and, letting the sisters get ahead of her, she transformed into her own form—neither Millicent, the hag of a servant, nor a mouse, but Morgan le Fey, the sorceress.

That was better. Pressing her palms to her aching ears to soothe them, she hung back behind the sisters. Since they now carried lamps, it wasn’t difficult to keep them in sight as they wound their way through the passages.

She followed them until they came out to the high cavern of softly glowing stalactites and stalagmites. There, the sisters went to the edge of the large underground lake. Morgan hung back in the shadows of a tunnel as the one named Ione took off her slippers and stuck her foot in the shimmering water. “It’s not cold at all,” she told her sisters. She impulsively pulled her nightgown over her head and plunged, naked, into the water.

Tossing off their slippers and nightgowns the other sisters followed her example and were soon all
swimming in the glittering lake. Only Rowena stayed behind, draped on a rock, deep in thought.

Morgan drew in a sharp breath of realization. She knew where they were, what this place was! Why hadn’t she recognized it immediately?

This was the place where Vivienne’s lake had settled to, deep in the earth’s depths, when she, Morgan, had cursed it to be hidden below ground forever. These foolish girls were swimming right over their mother’s head as she languished below them, trapped in a magical bubble!

“It’s not as deep as I would have thought,” said the sister called Mathilde. “I can touch the bottom.”

Ione and Chloe both dove under. Morgan wondered if Vivienne was able to see them from below. Was it possible for them to see her?

Morgan didn’t really know, for certain, and she shifted uneasily from foot to foot, suddenly worried that these young women were so close to their mother.

At least Rowena had stayed out, probably mooning over her Bedivere. Of them all, she seemed to be the one who had inherited her mother’s talent for second sight. She’d be the one most sensitive to Vivienne’s presence.

Thinking of their mother reminded Morgan of how resourceful and gifted Vivienne had been in the days before her entrapment. If she knew her daughters were right above her—and she might—who knew what trick she’d employ to attract their attention and enlist their aid?

Morgan decided it would be in her best interest to throw these sisters off the trail. And she’d watched them long enough to know just what they longed for—adventure, parties, romance.

She had just the spell that would make it happen.

From her shadowed hiding place, Morgan began murmuring the incantations that would conjure the magic she desired. She mumbled on as she watched the sisters climbing out of the dark lake, their bodies dazzling with glimmers of phosphorescence that clung to their glistening, wet skin.

Sparks leapt between Morgan’s fingernails as she worked the first of her charms.

“My nightgown!” Ashlynn cried in surprise, lifting the garment. “It’s a gorgeous gown!”

“Mine is also,” Helewise told them as she picked up a turquoise satin dress festooned with pearls at the bosom.

All of the nightgowns were now transformed into incredible gowns made of brocades, silks, and satins. They were decorated with pearls, jewels, ribbons, bows, and lace; each gown exactly suited the coloring, body, and personality of each young woman.

Amazed, they quickly put them on. As they dressed, their hair began to move on its own, twisting into elaborate, elegant coiffures of ringlets, braids, buns, and loose curls, some strung with diamonds or pearls, others adorned with shining golden pins and gem-studded barrettes.

Rowena’s nightgown changed itself right on her
body into a deep blue satin with draping sleeves and a daring neckline. Her hair was now caught in a swirl of braids at her nape, bundled with a net of sapphire stones.

As the sisters admired one another, more sparks flew between Morgan’s fingernails, and six golden barges appeared on the sparkling lake, all of them silently moving toward the shore where the sisters stood in their gowns.

As the barges grew nearer, the sisters saw the creatures standing on board. Each barge carried two figures. They were dressed richly in elegant robes with the vests, leggings, and boots of dashing young men. But from the neck up they were stags. Each had the head and many-pointed antlers of a large male deer.

Morgan reserved the last part of her enchantment for the sisters. With a final jolt of energy between her fingers, she lifted any reservations or misgivings they might feel about embarking on a journey with these strange, virile creatures. Even Rowena, completely smitten as she was with her love for Bedivere, could not resist the lure of a possible adventure. Morgan had clouded their minds so that they saw these stag princes as completely acceptable escorts.

The stag princes moored their barges and leapt over the sides, heedless of the water splashing around their boots. With gallant bows, each approached one of the sisters and offered a hand.

The sisters took the hands that were offered and
let themselves be lifted onto the barges, two to a vessel. Then the barges smoothly floated off.

Morgan slumped against the wall of the passage, exhausted by the effort of conjuring such an elaborate spell. The stag princes would take the sisters to an enchanted island at the far end of the lake where they would feast and dance with them until dawn. Any time the sisters appeared here in the cavern, the stags would come to meet them.

“Vivienne’s brats eliminated,” Vivienne said, satisfied with and, she felt, justifiably proud of her resourceful solution.

Vivienne wept with rage and frustration. She had seen her children. They were right above her! She had pounded on the impenetrable barrier and screamed to attract their attention. All the while they swam, blithely unaware of her desperate cries.

They had grown up to be so lovely, like mermaids with their long hair floating around them. But she had only counted eleven of them. Where was her Rowena, her daughter with the second sight? Vivienne had known that even as a baby the girl had the sight.

It was Rowena who could see into the scrying bowl. Rowena was the one she might be able to contact.

But then there were barges, and she had sensed magic. Her daughters had floated away from her. Where had they gone? What had happened?

Hours later they had returned on the golden barges. She’d seen odd deer men reflected in the lake. They were familiar to her. She had seen similar creatures during her training on Avalon. They were figures of romance, attentive and radiating male energy.
But they were creatures of magic, illusions meant to captivate a female’s heart, with no true substance.

They bore every indication of having been called up by Morgan le Fey.

This was very bad. Why was Morgan near her girls? Where was their father? Why wasn’t he protecting them?

Consumed with desperate rage, she hurled herself against the surface of the lake and was thrown back down to the bottom by its impenetrable field of resistance.