Quicksilver felt a prickle of apprehension envelop her back. What ghastly punishments did the Wee Folk practice, that Sir Geoffrey feared to offend her delicate sensibilities? Her mind instantly conjured up so many horrible tortures that she did not even scold him for it.
The elf sighed. "Ay de mi! 'Tis so hard to judge you mortal folk! She doth humiliate the women of the villages, aye, and send the men to double their work—but she doth trouble not the children, nor doth levy any greater tax than the peasant folk have formerly paid; indeed, she has lightened that burden. In sum, we have not smitten her because we think she may be, at bottom, a good person, and could be swayed to be a force for Right and Justice."
"Here is no simple matter of chastising a wrongdoer." Geoffrey frowned. "Why do you seek to send me? I am no judge!"
"Yet in this instance, I may be." Quicksilver held up a palm to stay him. "Perhaps this witch is worth your study—or mine. What is her name, Old Thing?"
"Moraga," the elf told her. "She is a peasant born, so owns only the one name."
"It is enough," Quicksilver acknowledged. "We shall undertake it," Geoffrey sighed.
The elf grinned. "Blessings on thee, mortal folk! And blessings there shall be, for we of the Folk shall watch!" He sprang back up into the branches before Quicksilver could protest that such spying might not be exactly what they would want.
Instead, she turned on Geoffrey. "Why, a fine lackey are you! Are you a mere errand boy, to go hither and yon at the bidding of one not a tenth of your size?"
"Small in stature, yet great in power," Geoffrey reminded her, but Gregory frowned. "Why, how is this, lady? You but even now spoke of undertaking this matter yourself."
Quicksilver turned a black look upon him. "Never marry. You think far too much of what is right, and makes sense."
"Quicksilver!" Geoffrey barked, shocked. She swung about to him, eyes glittering with the anticipation of battle...
But that confounded boy held up a hand to restrain his brother. "Never rebuke one for speaking truth, Geoffrey. It is only one reason among many why I should never marry."
Quicksilver stared at him, appalled, and the dread of the alien crept over her again.
"As to his being a lackey, damsel," Gregory explained, "he goes not out of fear of the Wee Folk, but out of respect for the law."
He was stealing a perfectly good argument away from her, and moreover one which she could easily abandon at any time, because she knew it was really without basis. In anger, she turned to Geoffrey and snapped, "So you will go wherever you are bidden by any careless lord who happens by, simply because he invokes the name of the law?"
But Geoffrey only seemed to be amused. "The King of the Elves is scarcely just anybody 'who happens by,' and the messenger spoke for him. Moreover, that King, too, is one to whom I owe fealty."
"Indeed!" she said, fairly dripping with sarcasm. "And have you, then, sworn fealty to a mannikin?"
The infuriating young man actually smiled wider at that! Worse, he exchanged a glance of secret amusement with his brother!
"No, I have not sworn obedience," he said, turning back to Quicksilver, "but I have favors to repay—and a bond that I choose to honor and accept."
"A bond, forsooth! What manner of bond is this, that it could hold between a mortal and the King of the Elves?" Geoffrey shrugged. "What matter, so long as it does hold? After all, it holds both ways—he will aid me as much as I aid him. Besides, would you truly choose to defy the Elven King without a really strong reason?"
"I will defy any who try to order me about," Quicksilver replied hotly, "for Sir Hempen and Count Laeg had the right to do so, under the law, but they abused it most horribly, and sought to abuse me even worse!"
"Aye, I know that well," Geoffrey said, suddenly somber—even sympathetic, which she found maddening; had he no sense of the right time or place?
"There is no law so great that it cannot be perverted to the use of selfish and evil folk," Gregory said gravely, "but the poor folk would suffer far more, with no law at all."
She wished he would be quiet, and let her argue with Geoffrey in peace!
"But would you forswear an obligation that you had taken on freely?" Geoffrey asked, and he seemed suddenly very intent upon the answer, entirely too serious for a good, enjoyable spat. She forced herself to drop the spirit of play she had been trying to kindle and said reluctantly, "No."
Geoffrey sat back in his saddle with a smile.
He seemed entirely too complacent, so Quicksilver said quickly, "Only if it were not forced upon me in any way, and I had undertaken it willingly!"
"Then beware of those who make you wish to bind yourself to them," Geoffrey said softly.
She turned on him hotly, about to retort that she must then beware of him, but caught herself in time. Instead, she turned his own words back on him and said, "Then had you best not beware of me, sir?"
"Oh, no," Geoffrey said softly, his eyes glowing. "No, most surely not."
He nudged his horse closer, leaning from his saddle to take her in his arms and kiss her. Appalled, she pushed him away. "I am not a show for the avid, sir! Your brother is watching!"
"Gregory," Geoffrey said, never taking his burning gaze from hers, "begone."
There was a gunshot crack as the younger warlock disappeared, and Geoffrey's face was coming closer, and she would have resisted longer, but the memory of yesterday's kiss rose up and overwhelmed her, so that she did not push him away, but let her lips part as soon as his touched, and let herself be lost in the sensations that his kiss drew swirling up from within her.
But when her body began to ache for his touch so strongly that it frightened her, Quicksilver broke away to slap him. Her palm cracked against his cheek, and his head rocked—but even so, he caught her hand before it could leave his skin, and stroked it, saying, "Even that harsh touch is a delight, when it comes from your hand, O sweet one!"
"I am not sweet but bitter!" She yanked her hand back, blushing furiously. "Bitter toward men, and most sour toward you!"
"Oh, no," he said softly, "for your kiss is nectar—nay, mead, for it intoxicates me quite!"
"Then be drunk alone!" She turned away and rode ahead, thinking a peremptory summons: Gregory Gallowglass! Come back!
Air exploded behind her, but she did not look back, only rode ahead with grim satisfaction.
"Your pardon, brother," Gregory sighed. "This was one female summons I thought it best not to refuse."
"That is quite understandable, my sib." Geoffrey grinned wickedly, watching the shapely, extremely upright back before him, swaying with the movements of the mare. "I would never be able to resist her either, if she bade me 'Come hither.' "
They knew when they had come into Moraga's domain by the looks the peasant men shot them, where they worked in the fields. They were apprehensive, yes, but not exactly terrified—and they looked up at Geoffrey with a glimmer of hope.
Quicksilver was not at all sure she liked that.
She assumed Geoffrey would pay his respects to the local lord, or at least to the Crown's shire-reeve, but he did not. Instead, he turned to Gregory and said, "Lead us to the witch, brother, if you will."
An abstracted look came over Gregory's face, as though he was listening to some music they could not hear. Quicksilver felt her back prickle with eeriness again, and found herself straining her own mind to hear whatever it was that Gregory did—but she could detect only the ordinary, very common thoughts that always filled her mind when people were about. The clamor would have driven her crazy if she had not learned how to shut it out when she wanted—and the battles between husband and wife would have angered her to murder. Resolutely, she closed her mind again, relieved that, at least at the moment, no village girl was being harassed by vulgar swains.