“That, at least, we do not have to hunt,” Alain said with some irony.
As the three women rode through a sun-filled tunnel of leaves, Quicksilver asked, “Can you hear Alain’s thoughts yet, Cordelia?”
“Nay,” Cordelia answered, “nor those of my brothers. Can you, Allouette?”
Allouette frowned, shrugging to disguise a shiver of apprehension. “No, and never since we plighted our troth have I been without awareness of his mind at the back of my own.”
“ ’Tis worrisome,” Cordelia admitted, “but if Gregory and Geoffrey wish to shield their thoughts, I doubt not they can do it quite thoroughly. Indeed, Gregory could well shield all three by himself.”
“I do not doubt it,” Quicksilver said, “but I would expect a moment’s slippage now and then—a thought or emotion let loose in a moment of excitement, or of danger.”
“Let us hope it means they have come to no peril,” Allouette said fervently.
“I shall hope so in truth,” Quicksilver said, “but warriors develop instincts, and mine suspect the action of an enemy.”
“How?” Cordelia frowned. “Can you mean someone other than our lads shields their minds from us?”
“Well thought!” Allouette wheeled toward them. “What more obvious for a foe to do, if he realizes how formidable a set of antagonists we could be if united?”
“Divide and conquer!” Cordelia cried. “Of course! But what manner of wizard would this be who could erect an invisible wall that bars their thoughts from ours?”
They looked at one another, shuddering at the thought of the kind of magical power the feat would take. Then Allouette scolded herself for being superstitious and said, “Merely a trickster who knows one prank that we do not.”
“Well thought!” Quicksilver cried with relief. “He need not even be as strong as one of you ladies alone!”
“ ’Tis well thought.” Cordelia nodded. “Still, let us not lose sight of the chance that it is only their own shielding, for fear of some puissant mind-reader whom they approach.”
“Or some sorcerer of vast powers indeed,” Quicksilver said grimly. “I do not truly believe it—but a fool I would be not to be ready for the possibility.”
“We must keep open minds on the subject,” Cordelia agreed.
“Open minds, and an open landscape.” Allouette smiled as they rode out of the woods into pastureland. “How bright the sunshine seems! But why is that milkmaid chasing her cow?”
They turned to follow her gaze and saw a young woman, pail in hand, closing in on a dappled cow who stood in a corner made by two hedges a hundred feet away from them. The milkmaid walked quickly, holding out a hand palm up.
“She speaks soothing words to the cow,” Cordelia told them. “Can you hear her mind, Quicksilver?”
“I can,” the warrior said, “but weariness drags at her thoughts. How long has she pursued the beast?”
The milkmaid stepped up to stroke the cow’s neck, then her shoulders, then her side, moving steadily toward the udder—but as she knelt to prop her pail under the cow’s teats, the beast lunged away, smacking the woman with her tail, and went gamboling over the field like a calf.
“ ’Tis a most contrary cow,” Quicksilver said with a frown.
The milkmaid’s shoulders slumped; for a moment, she seemed about to sink to the ground in defeat—but she straightened, squared her shoulders, and started after the cow, her legs weighted with exhaustion.
“The beast has been leading her a merry chase for some hours,” Cordelia said, “and will likely do so for hours more.”
“Not if we can help it,” Quicksilver said, “and we can! Ride, ladies, and catch the animal from front and sides!”
“Then it can only turn to run back to its mistress.” Allouette nodded and kicked her horse into a canter.
The three women rode down on the cow. It saw them coming and veered to their right—but Allouette swung wide to head it off, and the beast turned back to try the other side.
Cordelia turned her horse to the left, circling away, then back toward the cow. It saw her, swung back, then stopped, nonplussed, to see Quicksilver bearing down. It lowed an objection, put down its head, and charged.
“This is most unbovine behavior!” Quicksilver drew her sword and leveled it at the cow’s neck.
“No!” the milkmaid cried. “Spare my poor Dapple!”
The cow looked up at her words, saw the bright steel, and gave a moo of disappointment. It slowed, tossing its head, and with a bang like that of a large firecracker, turned into a horse.
The three riders drew rein, staring. Then Cordelia cried, “That is not your Dapple, milkmaid, though it is a very clever counterfeit!”
“ ’Tis a spirit, that’s sure.” Quicksilver kicked her horse again, holding her sword level. “Ride, ladies! Whatever it is, spirk or sprite, it must fear Cold Iron!”
They converged on the horse, a dancing roan, boxing it in, coming closer and closer. It could have turned and charged the milkmaid, but instead it gave another toss of its head and disappeared with another explosion—a bang that had echoes uncommonly like a horselaugh.
The milkmaid gave a cry of fear and dismay and sank to the ground.
“Quickly!” Cordelia cried. “She faints!”
Allouette was down off her horse in the instant, cradling the milkmaid’s head in the crook of her arm, testing her pulse and peeling back one eyelid, then the other, to check the size of the pupils. She nodded to Cordelia. “She only sleeps.”
The milkmaid’s eyes fluttered; then she sat up. “What . . . where . . .”
“A moment’s loss of consciousness, nothing more,” Allouette assured her.
“No wonder, seeing a cow turn to a horse!” Quicksilver said.
“A horse!” The milkmaid clutched her head as memory came flooding back. “But where is my Dapple?”
“Eating acorns in the forest, as like as not,” Cordelia said in a soothing tone. “Surely she shall seek you out, now that the horse has gone.”
“That was no horse, but the Hedley Kow!” the milkmaid told them. “I have heard of it but hoped never to see it.”
“So had we.” Allouette exchanged a glance with her companions. “Surely there are shape-shifters enough in this land without that one.”
“But the town of Hedley is far from here, is it not?” the milkmaid asked. “I have only heard of it in minstrels’ songs.”
“So far away that I am not sure it is real,” said Allouette. “It may be something the songsters made up to beguile an idle moment.” But she exchanged another meaningful glance with Cordelia, then with Quicksilver.
They nodded their understanding: that the minstrel must have sung very recently and been a projective telepath who didn’t know his own talents, or that someone else had crafted the creature deliberately.
“Surely it is a mischievous sprite,” said Quicksilver, “but it has done you no harm, praise Heaven.”
“Aye, only wasted some hours,” Cordelia agreed.
“Most of the morning, I fear.” The milkmaid sighed. “There is not so much harm in that, if I find my Dapple alive.” She started to rise, wavered halfway up. Allouette caught one arm, Quicksilver the other, as Cordelia cast about quickly with her mind and read a cow’s wordless satisfaction in the taste of acorns and leaves. She projected a “come hither” thought and, as the cow began to plod toward her, said, “I am sure she is alive, and only a little calling will bring her to you.”
“I hope so indeed.” The milkmaid stepped away from Allouette and Quicksilver. “I thank you, ladies, but I am stronger now. Dapple! Da-a-a-a-ple! Come, sweet cow!”
They let go, watching her anxiously. She took a tottering step, then steadied and started toward the woods. “Would she truly have gone among the trees?”