An old faerie lady with drooping wings and powdered cleavage nudged the boar. “If the satyr’s seed could sprout, why we’d have a couple million pointy-eared mongrels running about. Aye.” She winked at Hiisi and let loose a cackle.
“He can travel between the worlds?” the troll asked.
The Lady cut the troll a suspicious look. “Tanngnost, don’t start your scheming. I’ll not have you using this boy toward your ends.”
Tanngnost looked taken aback. “My Lady, I would never dream such.”
The Lady laughed. “Of course not, and Hiisi would never diddle a virgin.”
This drew several snickers.
“Besides,” the Lady said. “You cannot have him. He has told me he wishes nothing more than to serve in my Guard.”
“You’d be lucky to have one so brave,” said Hiisi.
“I would. Not only is he stouthearted, but talented as well,” the Lady said like a proud mother. “Peter, let them hear the forest.”
Peter beamed, drinking in all the attention, their curiosity making him bold. He started with a frog’s croak, then the chattering of a squirrel, a hooting monkey, then lifted his head and howled, the sound resounding off the dome. He played through a dozen birdcalls and ended with a rooster’s crow.
The hall burst into laughter and applause. If Peter had grinned any wider his face would have split in two.
“Modron,” Ulfger growled. “Please, there are important matters to—”
“All in good time, Ulfger,” the Lady said. “But first, I want you to hear something. It might do your spirit good. Come, sit here beside me.”
Ulfger shook his head, but sat down.
“Now, Peter,” the Lady whispered. “The Sunbird.”
Peter drew in a deep breath, sat up straight, cocked his head back, and began the song. The hall fell silent, even the servants stopped, all of them listening in stunned silence as his song echoed and resonated around the chamber, the acoustics of the dome amplifying the tune and the green ambient light of the pool brightening in response.
Peter finished and looked around, expecting more applause. Instead he was met by faraway eyes, half- opened mouths, some of them even weeping. Peter wondered what he’d done. He glanced at the Lady, unsure. Saw that she too had tears in her eyes.
“That was beautiful, Peter,” she said and her wonderful smile fell on him and he knew he’d done well.
“Truly breathtaking,” the old faerie lady blurted out, dabbing away at her eyes.
“Ulfger,” the Lady said. “Does his song not touch your heart?”
Ulfger looked as though he’d drunk sour milk.
Hiisi stood up and began to clap, the rest followed his lead, all except for Ulfger, who sat stoned-faced, digging his nails into his palms.
PETER WAS BROUGHT a plate of food. One sullen-faced servant actually smiled at him and slipped him a honey pie. Peter ate his fill and then some, and soon the drone of warm conversation, the soft music, and hypnotic glow of the pool made him drowsy. He rested his head against the Lady’s breast.
The Lady slipped her arms about him and began to softly twirl his hair. She smelled of pond water and honeysuckle, and these scents, like his mother’s sweet milk of so long ago, filled him with contentment. He was where he belonged, by the Lady’s side, for always and forever.
Hiisi slid over a few chairs and began to flirt with a blushing elven maiden. Tanngnost came around, taking a seat next to the Lady. He leaned over and spoke low. “My Lady I would speak with you.”
The Lady sighed. “You cannot stand the sight of me being happy, not even for a moment. Can you, you fretful old goat?”
Tanngnost shook his head sorrowfully. “There is nothing I wish more than your happiness. But…things are worse than we feared.”
“Yes, I know. I read that much in your eyes.”
Tanngnost let out a sigh. “These are ill times, my Lady.”
“The men-kind?”
“Christians. They’re determined to rid the land of any who worship the Horned One. Murdering all the druids, burning the temples, sometimes whole villages, and knocking over the standing stones.”
The Lady’s face hardened. “This god of peace and love certainly likes to bathe the land in blood.”
Ulfger’s eyes lit up; he leaned over. “Now is the time to take the folk of Avalon to war! Now, before it is too late. Now while we still have allies in the world of men-kind.”
The Lady looked at him sadly. “Ulfger, why are you in such a hurry to abandon your youth? The weight of the world will be on your shoulders soon enough, then you’ll yearn for these days. What I wouldn’t do to have one carefree day of my youth back.”
Ulfger grimaced. “Modron, I don’t see what my age has to do with any of this.”
Peter looked up. “The bad men? Are they coming here?”
“No, Peter,” the Lady said. “Not here. They can’t come here. I would never allow it.” She handed him a cream puff and sat him on the floor.
“Ulfger, do me this favor, take the boy here out into the yard with the other children. Go and play.”
Peter’s ears perked up. There were other children to play with?
“I am not a nursemaid,” Ulfger snapped.
“I mean
Ulfger looked at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“Just try it. For once. For me?”
“No. I wish to hear of Tanngnost’s travels.”
“You will hear everything in good time. Your mother will see to it. For now, I wish you to take Peter to the courtyard.”
Ulfger didn’t move, just stared at her.
“Ulfger, please. We can talk later. I promise.”
Ulfger looked as though someone were twisting a knife in his gut. “Fine,” he said, forcing the word out through clenched teeth.
The Lady touched the tall boy’s arm. “Ulfger, I hope to Avallach that you wake up and see what that woman has done to you. I hope you see it before all of your youth is lost.”
Ulfger turned and headed for the door. Peter glanced at the Lady, unsure. She nodded and he followed the boy out from the chamber.
PETER CAUGHT UP with Ulfger in the hall. The tall boy stood studying an intricately woven tapestry. The scene was of a massive, caped lord holding a long black sword and wearing a helmet with great elk horns jutting up from either side. The helmet covered his face, but his eyes glowed out from the visor.
Peter heard the distant calls of children coming from somewhere down the way. Peter cleared his throat. “Um…Ulfger.”
The tall boy didn’t respond; his eyes lost in the tapestry.
“Hey-ho, Ulfger,” Peter called.
“You will address me as Lord Ulfger,” the tall boy said, without taking his eyes from the tapestry.
“Lord Ulfger, can we go play now?”
“This is my father,” Ulfger said. “The Horned One. He rules the forest.” Ulfger moved down to the next tapestry. “And this…this is my mother.” He inclined his head toward the portrait. A thin-faced woman with piercing eyes glared back at Peter. He felt the woman’s eyes were judging him, staring right through him.
“Queen Eailynn, of the elven line of Norrenthal.”
Peter thought he detected a sneer in the tall boy’s tone, and wasn’t sure if the boy revered the queen or
