The Warlock Rock (11 page)

Arachne rolled her head to peer at the great black horse, who was cropping grass for appearance's sake. "Whence came that beast?"

"He was by us throughout. Thou wouldst have seen him an thou hadst paid heed," Geoffrey sneered. Arachne turned her head to glare at him.

Behind her, Gregory said, "There is no sense of greater room within mine head, nor any sign that she doth hear our thoughts."

Arachne's gaze darted up; she craned her neck, trying to see. "What creature is that, which doth speak of hearing thoughts?"

" 'Tis but a small warlock," Cordelia soothed, "my brother."

"Thy brother!" Arachne stared, horrified. "Then thou art…"

"A witch." Cordelia nodded. "And thou, we find, art not. Whence, then, didst thou gain the dancing shoes?"

"I have told thee—I found them by a music-rock." White showed all around Arachne's eyes, and Geoffrey nodded, satisfied. She is too much affrighted to speak falsely . She is terrified, Cordelia thought, rebuking; and aloud, "How didst thou learn their power?"

"Why, I put them on, and began to dance."

Cordelia glanced at Arachne's large feet. "How couldst thou pull on shoes so small?"
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Arachne reddened, embarrassed, but Gregory said, "I doubt me not an they fit their size to the wearer." Arachne's eyes rolled up again in fear.

Cordelia nodded. " 'Tis of a piece with their magic. Yet how didst thou take them off?"

"Why, I tired, and fell," Arachne said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"She hath not the endurance of youth, I wot," Geoffrey said grimly. "And thou didst then think to use them to trap maidens?"

"Well, young lasses, at least." The old woman frowned. "Such a one came by, donned the shoes, and capered right merrily. When she began to tire, I flung my net and caught her."

"Wherefore? Didst thou know this cave-dwelling gentleman already?"

"Aye, for I'd seen him about of nights, gaunt in the moonlight." Cordelia wondered what the woman had been doing out in the woods at night. Belike she did seek to learn magic, Magnus's thought answered her, and, failing, is the more in awe of we who have it .

The more sin that we are so young, Gregory agreed.

"And what had this proud gentleman done, to make thee think he would buy a girl?"

"Why, for that I saw him stalk a lass who dallied in a clearing, to meet a lover. He fell upon her and carried her away to his cave—and thus I learned where he dwelled." Cordelia felt a chill envelop her back. What manner of man was this, who went out hunting maidens by night?

' Tis an evil one, certainly. Geoffrey's thoughts were grim. He will also be twisted and warped in his soul, I doubt not .

We must rid the forest of him, Magnus agreed.

"What did he to the lass?" Cordelia demanded.

"Naught of great harm that I could see," Arachne answered, "for I went to look the next day, and saw her sitting by the cave-mouth; yet she was drawn and pale."

"And did not seek to escape?" Magnus frowned.

"Nay—so he could not greatly have hurt her, could he?"

"Either that, or he hurt her vastly, yet in her soul, not her body," Magnus said gravely. "What, monster!

Thou hast seen what he hath done, and yet thou didst sell a young lass to him?"

"Aye." Arachne's jaw jutted out. "For I saw no great harm, seest thou, and he paid me in gold."
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"And gold is worth the vitality of a lass?" Geoffrey spat. "Nay, then! Let us sell thee to the headsman, and take gold for thy pate!"

Arachne's eyes widened in alarm.

"She doth know she hath done wrongly," Gregory pointed out.

"She doth that." Magnus frowned, bending over to glare down at the harridan. "Where lieth his cave, hag?"

"Why, to the west and north, hard by the dark pool before the cliffs," Arachne stammered, shaken by the look on Magnus's face. "Thou… thou wilt not seek him out?"

" 'Tis our affair," Geoffrey answered her, "as art thou still, I fear." He looked up at Magnus. "What shall we do with her, brother?"

Arachne cried out in alarm. "Assuredly thou wilt not hurt me!"

"Wherefore not?" Geoffrey retorted. "Wouldst thou have scrupled to hurt my sister?"

"I—I did not know she was a witch!"

"Which is to say, thou didst not know that she could hurt thee." Geoffrey turned away in disgust.

"Whate'er we do, brother, 'twill not be excessive."

"Yet I scruple to hurt her," Magnus said slowly. "Are we to be no better than she, brother?" Arachne went limp with relief.

"Shall we take her to the bailiff, then?" Gregory asked.

"Why, what evidence shall we offer of her misdeeds?" Geoffrey demanded.

"Only our word of what she hath said," Magnus said sadly, "and 'tis the word of young ones 'gainst that of a woman grown. Nay, we must seek other justice to which to hand her." Arachne stiffened again, eyes widening.

Geoffrey frowned. "What justice can that be?"

"Why, that of the land itself." Magnus turned his head and called, "By Oak, Ash and Thorn! An thou canst hear me, proud Robin, please come!"

Arachne stared at him, her foreboding deepening; but Magnus only held his stance, frozen, waiting, and his siblings watched him in silence.

Then leaves parted, and Puck stepped forth. "Wherefore dost thou call me, Warlock's Child?"

"I cry thy justice upon this woman, Robin."

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Puck's head swivelled around; he stared at the harridan. Then his eyes narrowed. "Aye, we have seen her aforetime, yet her offenses were never so great as she yearned for them to be. What hath she now done, that thou dost think her worth our concern?"

"She hath stolen a woman-child," Magnus answered, "and sold her for gold to a gentleman who doth dwell in a cave."

Puck's face turned to flint. "We know of him; 'tis a vampire." Slowly, he turned to Arachne. "And thou hast sold him a maiden?"

She looked into the elf's eyes, and screamed.

For Rod and Gwen, it had been a slow journey, since they had to wait for the rocks to absorb enough witch-moss to split. A few times they cheated by rolling a fragment of stone into the nearest patch of the fungus. The children were well out of sight before they had gone more than a hundred yards. So the sun was setting as they backtracked a flying stone out of a small woodlot into a meadow. Before them, dimly seen in the dusk, another line of trees loomed.

"We must give the poor wee thing a chance." Gwen nudged the stone toward a crop of grass webbed with fungus.

But Rod heard a sound, and turned back to look. "Gwen…"

"Aye, milord?"

"We're, uh… being followed."

Gwen turned to look, and stifled a shriek.

It was at least as big as a pony, but it had a long, bushy tail and a shaggy gray coat.

"Grandma, what big teeth you have," Rod murmured.

It was a wolf, dancing toward them on pads the size of platters.

"Fight, or fly?" Gwen readied her broomstick—as a quarterstaff.

"Go, but I think we can stay on the ground." Rod nodded at the huge beast. "It can't go very fast, that way."

The wolf's paws were weaving in the steps of an intricate dance. It was surprisingly graceful, but it took two steps backward for every three forward.

"True," Gwen agreed. "Let us move toward the far wood, my lord, for there may we entrap it, if we see need."

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"Good point." Rod moved with her, with quick glances back over his shoulder. "Uh… it's not working." Gwen turned to look, and saw that the wolf had speeded up its dance. It was stepping closer to them with every measure. "Let us walk as swiftly as we may—the wood is better for us."

"Anything you say." Rod was beginning to feel the old, atavistic dread of teeth that go clash in the night. As much to reassure himself as her, he said, "We can wipe it out any time we want to, of course."

"Certes." Gwen frowned. "Yet I am loath to do so, for 'tis a living being, even as we are."

"Living," Rod agreed, "but dangerous to sheep and small peasants. We can't really leave a thing like that around to roam the countryside, Gwen."

"Mayhap it can be tamed," she offered.

Rod shook his head. "Whether it was generated by imagination or genes, it was born to be wild. We're going to have to find some way to pull its teeth."

Those teeth were coming entirely too close. The wolf's tongue lolled out between them, almost in a smile, and the great eyes glowed in the dusk.

"First," Rod said through stiff lips, "I think we'd better go aloft. Ready?" Something shot over their heads, a flurry of night wings and a long, mournful, echoing call. The stepping wolf howled, dodged aside, then leaped up, jaws snapping, but the giant bird banked away. It came circling back, though,

and the dancer had no attention to spare for its erstwhile quarry. The night-spirit cupped its wings and stretched its claws down, landing between the wolf and the humans—an owl eight feet tall, poising wings that seemed to stretch out forever as a shield for the tender ones at its back. Rod saw the gleam of a curved bill the size of his arm, and eyes the size of dinner plates that stared at the predator. A long cry filled the night again.

" Who-o-o-o-o-o-o," the great bird called. " Who-o-o-o-o't"

"Doth he mean to threaten?" Gwen asked.

"Threat or comfort, it's music to my ears. But he can't really hold off that wolf, can he?" The four-footed dancer seemed to have come to the same conclusion. It crouched, snarling, readying itself for a leap.

" Whol"the great owl exclaimed with a snap of its wings, and the wolf rocked back, startled for a moment.

Before it could regain its poise, a sonorous gong-roll filled the night, and an awkward figure appeared, flapping long-sleeved arms for balance, teetering in front of the giant owl. It wore a tall, pointed cap painted in spirals of mauve and lavender, interspersed with stars and crescent moons, which also adorned its patchwork robe, five sizes too big. "Here now, here now, what's all this?" the small man said in a peevish tone. He looked up at the great owl through a huge pair of circular spectacles. "What did you call me for, Hoot?"

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The night-king gave a hoot, nodding its head toward the wolf. The patchwork wizard turned to peer into the gloaming, adjusting his spectacles. "What's this, what's this? A dancing wolf, you say? Well, let him dance!"

The owl hooted again.

"People?" The wizard looked up at Rod and Gwen, startled. "Oh! Good evening. I am Spinball the wizard."

"Um—pleased to meet you." Rod hoped he wasn't staring too obviously. "I'm Rod Gallowglass, and this is my wife, Gwen."

"The High Warlock?" Spinball straightened, startled. "And the Wonder Witch, too! Why, you have no need of me! You could skin and stuff this animal before it even noticed!"

"Well, yes," Rod admitted, "but we're a little reluctant, you see. I mean, it's just doing what it was born to do, and we hate to end an innocent life if we can avoid it." Spinball lifted his head, a glint of respect in his eye. "Ah, well. I can understand that. Of course, yes."

"Cannot this beast be tamed?" Gwen asked gently.

"Oh." Spinball knitted his brows. "You haven't much of a knack with beasts, eh? Well, that makes a difference. I'll see what I can do, then." Abruptly, he smiled. "Nice to have a feeling of purpose for a change." Then he spun away to the wolf.

"He is quite nice," Gwen said carefully.

"Definitely," Rod agreed. "Seems to be a bit of a screwball, though."

"Here, now, Dancer," the wizard said. His tone was firm, but gentle. "You really mustn't bother these people."

The wolf growled.

"Oh, yes, I know you're hungry," Spinball said, "but they have a right to live, too, you know. Now, I can understand the occasional sheep, and possibly even a small cow now and then—but human beings are absolutely forbidden!"

The wolf's growl became more ominous.

"No!" Spinball said, with determination. "Absolutely out of the question! Really, you should limit yourself to deer and rabbits, you know, with now and then a bit of a boar. Taking livestock always brings hunters with wolfhounds, after all."

At that, the wolf threw back its head and howled. Rod and Gwen stared, amazed—but were even more amazed when the howling began to slide up and down in pitch, then to rise and fall with a definite feeling of structure. Somehow, it seemed to synchronize perfectly with the thrumming beat from the music-rocks that littered the meadow. It ended with a long, high, mournful howl that held and rang, then dwindled away into the night. The evening was still, except for the shrilling of crickets and, somewhere in the
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distance, the drumming of a bullfrog—or was that a music-rock?

But Spinball was nodding. He whisked something long and thin out of a sleeve.

"A magic wand?" Rod asked.

But Spinball put the wand to his lips and began to play. A lovely melody lilted out into the night, wafting toward the wolf, rising and falling in time to the beat of the music-rocks. Then Spinball took the pipe away from his lips, and began to sing:

"One is one, and all alone, And ever more shall be so! Yet two are two, and ever do Have other ones to seek to know!

To reach, and nothing gain, is pain; To reach and touch is warming. To see another may be bother, But often may be charming!

They who slay shall never stay To fulfill themselves in others. They who hate shall never sate The hollowness that shudders!