Dragon's Met
Part Twelve
by peregrin anna
c. 2001


(Disclaimers and notes may be found on the introductory page .)






Chapter 78

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we must be
saved by hope.  Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense
in any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. 
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone;
therefore, we are saved by love.
         ~ Reinhold Niebuhr


Exactly what happened in the next few moments was never clear to Gary--not while it was happening, and not when he tried to remember it afterward.  

There were arms and legs, kicking him, pushing him, pulling at him.  Faces flashed in and out of his line of sight in a slide show of anger, hatred, fear--but mostly confusion.  

There was movement--forward, sideways, being pushed and shoved and tripped.  

There were disjointed shouts, cries of alarm as well as anger.  Once, piercingly clear, he heard Morgelyn call his name, and then she, too, was lost in the onslaught.

There was the sure and certain knowledge that he was irretrievably tangled in this anarchy, helpless to stop it, going down for the third time in the sea of fear.

Then they hit the churchyard.  Somehow, being out in the open space seemed to slow everyone down; the crowd tumbled out of the church door like rice through a funnel, then paused to catch its breath, gathered in a ragged semicircle.  Gary looked for Morgelyn and found her a few dozen yards away, struggling against the men who held her--Simon Elders and Roy, one of the guards from the day before.  They were holding on so tight that their knuckles were white against the green fabric of her dress.  It was only when Gary tried to get to her that he realized that two of the tavern buddies were holding him as well, keeping a death grip on his arms.  Shit!  He couldn't stop anything if he couldn't move; he needed help.  Where was Fergus?  Though Gary was taller than most of the crowd, and he whipped his head around feverishly, he couldn't see or hear Fergus at all.  Had he run away?  It would explain why he hadn't ever been in the story, but still, Gary couldn't help but be disappointed in him.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for some kind of order or direction.  He was pushed and jostled as the circle shifted to make room for more people, but he couldn't wrench himself free.  The shouting continued, too, an awful blend of cries for help and cries of hate and little kids crying for their mothers.  

But worse than that, worse than any of it, was the tang that assaulted his nostrils.  Something was burning down in the village center.  Gary managed to twist around, nearly tearing his shoulder out of its socket, and saw a plume of smoke rising from the woodpile.  They'd already started--oh, God.  They were dragging Morgelyn toward it; they would just throw her on it and--

"You can't do this!"  Desperate, trapped, he added his own voice to the general melee, but no one heeded him, and his captors tightened their grips.  He'd break an arm if he had to, to get away--"No!  Morgelyn!"

"STOP!"

Father Ezekiel's voice boomed out across the village.  Everyone froze--except for Morgelyn, who caught Gary's eye in that split-second of silence.  "Go home," she mouthed.

Like hell he would.  He shook his head.  

"This is not the way to go about this."  Father Ezekiel's commanding tone held the crowd in a momentary thrall.  "You are acting like heathens.  Christ taught us that there is redemption for even the worst of sinners--"

"Redemption comes through fire!" shouted the man on Gary's right, the short, bearded one who'd thought Morgelyn had flown out of the cellar.  Gary tried to elbow the guy in the gut, but the grip on his arm was too tight.  There were shouts of agreement, including Simon's--he shook Morgelyn as he yelled, and she shut her eyes.  Lady Nessa's guard merely smirked.  Nessa herself stood in the church doorway, watching the whole thing with her arms folded across the jeweled bodice of her gown.  

But just when Gary thought one of them was the worst, another stepped up to the plate.  As the noise died down, Father Malcolm came from his place by the church door--emboldened, again, by the prospect of violence.  "There is nothing more you can do to save her soul," he said to Father Ezekiel.  "She has been given every chance to confess her sins--"

"I have nothing to confess to you!"  Morgelyn's defiance cut through the air.  "You are the one who should seek redemption!  You were supposed to be our priest, our protector, and you let them do this?  How could you?"  

Banning approached Morgelyn with predatory calm.  "Do not speak to the priest like that or you will further damn yourself."

"I have done nothing--"

"That is a lie."  Simon shook her again, and damn it, Gary could not break free of the hands that held him, but he had to get over there, before the worst could happen.  "You killed Mark Styles."

"No--no, Simon I did not."  Awkwardly twisting around so she could look the man in the face, Morgelyn regained some measure of composure.  "You know it, if you would just--just remember.  You used to know me, Simon--you all used to know who I was."  Her gaze swept the assembled villagers, pleading with them to remember.  "The last thing my grandmother asked of me was to take care of this village--to stand up with you, against those who would destroy it."  This was delivered with a pointed glare in Nessa's direction, and then she turned back to Simon.  "The last thing she did was to deliver your child--Stephen was breached and my grandmother saved his life.  She saved Lara's life, too, but now in your ignorance and your fear, you will take it away."

Stunned silence was broken by the crackling of logs in the fire down below.  Gary could see the flames now.  

Father Ezekiel said, "It is God's providence that Morgelyn has returned now, Simon, when your wife needs her help.  Will you deny Lara that providence?"

Simon's gaze flickered from Ezekiel to Malcolm, who was shaking his head, then to the other villagers.  He was wavering, unbelievable, but he was.  Gary could see it in the way his bitter scowl eased into confusion.  Morgelyn was intent on watching him, whispering, "Simon, please, Lara needs my help..."

She didn't see it.  Simon didn't see it.  Anyone else who might have noticed was frozen by the drama playing out before them--except for Gary.  

He saw Banning's arm draw back, and knew.  In the stillness, the paralyzing silence, he knew what was about to happen.  It would only take one spark to ignite the crowd again, to bring back the wave that would carry Morgelyn, would carry all of them, down the hill and to the hungry fire, where the flames were licking the morning air and looking for something to burn.  Banning intended to give them that spark.  Gary had to stop him.

He couldn't get free.

He had to get free.

Warmth that was more than just anger and desperation flooded through him, warmth and strength that propelled him forward, dragging the men who were holding him for a couple of feet before he shook them off.  He sprang at Banning just as the friar yelled, "Lies!" and smashed his hand into Morgelyn's cheek.

Simon and the guard let go and Morgelyn dropped to the ground with a cry of pain, but before anyone else could react, Gary had Banning's arm locked in his grip.  This time the crowd noise was shocked, but Gary didn't care what they thought anymore; his frustration with the whole situation was focused on one target.  With strength he hadn't thought he had left, he spun Banning around and drove him across the open space, toward the church.  Panting, Gary rammed him against the wall with one hand on his shoulder, the other still clenching the arm that had hit--that had hurt--

He couldn't get past that, and he was ready to throw a few punches of his own, but instead an unbidden torrent of words came pouring out of his mouth.

"Is this what makes you a man?  Is this how you make yourself better , by scaring people every way you know how and blinding them to the truth?  By hurting people who dare to get in your way?  Does that make you a better person?"  The words were for Nessa, too; for Simon and the others, for anyone who'd taken part in this.  Something had hold of Gary now, some part of his soul that had seen this happen too many times, in too many ways, to stand by any longer.

Banning stared back at him blankly; no doubt his bullying authority had never been challenged before now.

"She's telling the truth," Gary said loudly, shoving Banning into the wall one more time, jaw clenched against the desire to do more than just push him around.  That wouldn't be right, it wouldn't solve anything, but his words could.  How he knew this, he had no idea--it was just a current, and he let himself be carried along by his conviction.  He turned to the crowd and waggled a hand between Banning and Father Malcolm, who stood in front of Lady Nessa, white as a sheet.  "These two men, they want to throw away her chance to help you, to prove that she's not what they say she is, because they know, they know, that you would believe her if she could make them well."  

Gary spotted Anna just behind Father Ezekiel.  Her son was on the ground at her feet and she had an arm around Lara Elders's waist, holding her friend up.  "Anna," he said, softening his voice.  "Anna's lost more than any of you in the past couple days, but she hasn't given up faith in the one person who can really help her."   

Gary swung his arm in Morgelyn's direction, and heads followed as if attached by a string.  He nearly lost his voice when he saw the way Simon and Roy hauled her roughly to her feet, but she lifted her head, and the hope that he could still see there seemed to pull the words right out of him.  "Look at her, will you?  She was--she still is --your friend.  She wouldn't have come back if she didn't want to help you.  She knew this could happen--all of this," he added with a nod at the fire.  "But she came back because you, her neighbors, are sick, and more of you are going to get sick if you don't let someone help."

Simon dropped his hold on Morgelyn's arm, but the guard didn't.  Gary started toward her, but Banning spat on the ground, sending spittle into the dirt at Gary's feet.  "You will all be cursed and die if you do not rid yourselves of--"

"That's enough!"  Gary whirled on Banning.  "You can't make something true just by saying it over and over.  You have no proof.  You tortured her, and you couldn't even get a confession.  Did he tell you that?" he asked Simon.  "Did he tell you what he did yesterday in that ruined house?  Look at her--at her hand--at--"  He had to stop; he couldn't just use Morgelyn like she was exhibit A or something.  But he definitely had everyone's undivided attention as he approached his friend; he knew that now, here in the growing light of late morning, they could see the bruises on her face--there'd be a new one now, he thought grimly.  Roy took a hard look at Gary, at what was written on his face, and dropped Morgelyn's arm.  She stepped toward Gary, who put a hand on her shoulder.    

"Her hand, yes--an interesting point," Banning scoffed, though he didn't move from his position against the church wall.  "One test of witchcraft is to hold the woman's hand in fire.  If she is innocent, God will protect her.  This woman was burned by a mere candle flame."

"Because you held it in that flame with tongs," Morgelyn said, cold and quiet.  She shivered when Gary squeezed her shoulder.   

"If you were innocent, God would have protected you from harm."  Malcolm looked around the circle of villagers for affirmation as he trumpeted his pronouncement, but most people were frowning in confusion at this new bit of theology.

"But God does allow the innocent to be hurt."  Father Ezekiel cast a sympathetic glance at Anna, then nodded at the graves behind the church.  "Those who were killed by the pestilence, who were tortured by those boils and the venom they released into their bodies, were innocent."

"Don't need a priest to tell me that."  The worn, familiar voice came from somewhere outside the circle.  For the first time, Gary noticed the old man who leaned against the corner of the church, clutching his staff, his blind eyes fixed on the sky.  "Fire didn't fix anything.  Fire just burns."

"Robert--" Morgelyn began, but she would have had to go past Banning to get to him, and Gary held on tight to her shoulder.  

Father Ezekiel, nodding, continued: "How many of you lost children?  Or parents?  What hideous sin were they being punished for?"  He glared at Malcolm.  "But you would not know about that.  Where were you when they needed your help the last time?  And whose side do you stand on now?"  

Malcolm had no answer.  Restless whispers ran through the crowd.  Gary could sense something--a tide turning, maybe, but it was turning awfully slowly.  Most of the people still didn't look convinced, and the flames down at the bottom of the hill were getting higher.  

"We know that what might--what can happen to us is awful," Morgelyn said, and her eyes were fixed on Lara, on Anna and Tolan.  "Sickness and famine and cold...but how could those be worse than what we bring on ourselves?"

"You can't beat this stuff if you tear yourselves apart," Gary said, trying to press whatever advantage they had.  "And how long will it take before it's someone else?  Before it's your wife, Simon, or your daughter?  How long until you go after Anna, because she's all alone now and has no one to speak up for her?"  He paused, and let the weight of his stare fall on as many people as he could.  "How long before someone decides it's one of you?"

"Th-that will not happen," Father Malcolm said.  "We only want to redeem this one witch."

"That is a lie."  Fergus pushed his way through the villagers and came to stand next to Morgelyn, flashing her and Gary a sheepish, apologetic grin.  With him was Freckles, of all people.  "It has all been a lie from the very beginning, and we can prove it."  Bowing slightly, Fergus presented Cecily to the crowd with a flourish of his arm.  "Cecily works at the manor house--or she did until today.  And she has something she wants all of you to know."

"As if anyone would take a serving maid's word against my own?"  Nessa's smile was the same one she'd used on Gary, as if she was trying to seduce the entire village.  But her fingers worked the silk of her dress in nervous fidgets, and Fergus ignored her completely.

"Go ahead, my dear; tell them what you heard."

Gary couldn't believe it.  He'd thought the guy had ducked out on them, and instead he'd found...proof?  But what could Cecily possibly prove?

As if she knew what Gary was thinking, Cecily looked around at all the people and bit her lip.  But Fergus took her hand and gave her his most winning smile, and the girl found her voice.

"It was m'lady and the friar."  Cecily timidly tilted her chin toward Banning.  Her freckles stood out in sharp relief on her pale skin.  "I--I heard them last night," she squeaked.  "They said the fire in the old manor was a good thing.  That it would frighten the villagers--all of  you--and make sure you believed that Morgelyn was a witch.  And if they could not find her, they could always find someone else to blame and to burn.  That is what he said.  He said--he said--"

She swallowed hard, and gripped Fergus's sleeve. "Go on," he encouraged her.  

"He said the next one to burn would be Father Ezekiel--that he would make you all believe horrible things about him."

There was a murmur in the crowd, incredulous instead of angry.  "No, oh no," Morgelyn whispered.

"I came to warn him because I knew that could not be right."  Cecily turned rapidly-blinking eyes on Father Ezekiel.  "You stayed with me mum when she was sick, when everyone else left us.  You made sure she had the sacraments.  You cannot be evil."

Ezekiel simply gaped at her--then at Malcolm and Lady Nessa.

"If he can be accused," Gary jumped in, "not one of you is safe."  He fixed Nessa with a sharp look.  "Not one.  She wants you to go running to her for protection.  To give up your freedom.  But from what I heard, there's a history of this village overcoming this kind of--of dragon.  You're not going to do it by turning against each other."

A man Gary didn't know called out from the knot of children that surrounded him.  "Why would Lady Nessa care what happens here?"

"Because she wants your land--more important, she wants you."  Gary didn't dare look at Nessa right at that moment, or he'd have lost his nerve.  "She told me so herself.  She can't find enough workers to bring in her own crops, and yet she still wants more land, to increase her own power."

"She believes that if you are frightened of the future, and of each other, you will give up your land and come work for her."  Fergus was nearly strutting as he moved around the circle, spinning his newest tale; a true one, this time.  "Then she can work you--and your children--until you collapse."  With the aplomb of a presidential candidate, he stopped next to Tamsyn and James and rested his hands on their heads.  "Is that what you want?  To live in servitude?"

"What choice will we have?"  The blond man who'd looked scared earlier, back at the well, spoke up from behind Father Ezekiel.  "My sons are all ill, we are dying, and soon there will be no one left to work the land.  What good is freedom if we starve?"

Nessa's smile curled.  "No one will starve under my protection.  It is true, I wanted to frighten you, but if you only will look with clear eyes, you will see that what I offer you is better than freedom.  It is a chance to live--"

"As her serfs and vassals!" Fergus finished.

"We have to live, somehow," Simon insisted.

"Together."  Everyone turned to Morgelyn as she stepped away from Gary's protective hand.  "My grandmother said that if we stood together, if we believed together, we would survive the dragon--just like the villagers in Efflam's time.  But this time the dragon is not illness.  It is those who would make you believe lies, who would hurt anyone who stands in their way so that they might take what they do not rightfully own."

"I do not know who is telling the truth," said one man.  "Even our priests cannot advise us, for they are divided."

"We have yet to have proof of Morgelyn's good intentions.  See how Tolan Styles suffers even now," Simon called hoarsely, but he was looking at his wife.  "All her so-called cure has done so far is prolong his agony."

Lara Elders pushed herself away from Anna and stepped toward her husband.  "Simon, no--"  But she stumbled there, in front of all of them, and collapsed on the ground.  Simon stared at her blankly while Tamsyn and James hurried forward.  

"Mama, mama, mama," Tamsyn wailed, grasping her mother's dress and trying to shake her back to consciousness.  Morgelyn started toward Lara, but Simon shoved Gary roughly away as he hurried to his wife, and Gary pulled Morgelyn back before the man could touch her.  

"She's dying--look what you have done!" Simon thundered at no one in particular.  

"This would be a good time to escape," Fergus muttered under his breath, but the crowd was all around them, and there was nowhere to go.

"I will offer you the services of my own physician," Nessa said, her voice loud and shrill.  "If you will but consider my offer.  Bring your families under my care, and your trouble will be at an end."

"No--Simon, there is much we can do."  Morgelyn reached out a pleading hand, her voice gentle but choked.  "If you just let me try--"

"No more trying."  He turned to Nessa, and it seemed to Gary that the whole crowd held its breath while Simon swallowed and said, "I will take your offer."

Fergus groaned; Morgelyn turned and hid her face in Gary's shoulder.  No, he thought, wrapping an arm around her--no, it couldn't end like this.  Hadn't they heard him?

"Papa--"  Tamsyn stood up, yanking Simon's sleeve, staring at Gary.  "Look!"

"Not now, girl."

"But Papa--he's glowing!"  Tamsyn pointed at Gary.  "Look!" she repeated, and ran to his side, touched the hem of his shirt.

Gary looked down, realizing only now how warm it was right where the pouch was touching his skin.  

"Oh..." Morgelyn gasped.  She stepped back, wiping her eyes.  The light came from the Dragon's Eye; it shone through the leather pouch, the linen shirt, the vest.  Dizzy, Gary took it out; he hardly heard the gasps when he lifted the ball, which was indeed glowing.  A dazzling array of colors danced inside it.  

"It's--"  He blinked in confusion.  He couldn't make out distinct shapes in the light, and he couldn't hear or feel anything specific, but in that moment, there was the most reassuring sense that he was not alone, that he'd never been alone...  

"Trust it, Gary."  He turned to Morgelyn, but she hadn't spoken.  "We're with you."  

"Marissa?" he whispered, and Morgelyn's hand wrapped around his arm.  

"You see, this is proof!"  Banning's harsh pronouncement startled him so much that he nearly dropped the ball.  "This is proof of their witchcraft!  Only something evil could produce such magic!"

"No," Morgelyn whispered.  

"No."  Father Ezekiel was much louder.   

The light stopped swirling around amorphously and seemed to coalesce, gathering force.  Tamsyn reached her fingers into it, and she smiled.  Though he could hear the others speaking, Gary stayed focused on whatever magic was going on right in front of his face.  There was something here he needed to see--to be shown.

"How can you deny--" Malcolm sputtered.

"How can you believe, Father Malcolm, that God would allow the Devil to overcome Him here, on consecrated ground?"

"Not evil," Fergus muttered in agreement, and he was close to Gary's other elbow, Cecily a step behind.  

At that moment, the strange light shot out from the ball like an arrow.  It arched over the heads of the villagers.  A few reached up hesitant hands--and something like peace came over their faces as they touched it.

"God is stronger than the devil," Father Ezekiel repeated, "and this can only be God's work."

Hardly conscious that he was walking, Gary moved ahead, following the path the colors laid out for him.  Fergus and Morgelyn stuck close, matching his hesitant steps.  The light spun itself forward like a rope, a lifeline, across the churchyard and its haphazard graves, right over the back corner where the stone carved with Celtic knots stood.  "Grandmother?" Morgelyn whispered, and their steps grew quicker, surer.  The light went a little beyond the flower-covered grave, into the forest, then shot straight down into a clump of pink flowers, half-hidden by low shrubs and trees.

"I do not believe it--oh, Grandmother--"  Morgelyn hurried into the forest fringe and then dropped to her knees, reaching through the colors to touch one of the plants with a trembling hand.  Its flowers were tiny, clumped into thick spikes; its long, dark green leaves had wavy edges.  Gary was aware of a lot of people just behind him, speaking in hushed voices, but he couldn't turn around.  The light before him flared for a moment, then seemed to curl back in on itself and come to rest inside the Dragon's Eye.  His knees went all watery, but this was not the time to lose his nerve, not here with everyone watching.  

"What is it?" Fergus asked.

"Dragon's wort."  Turning a tear-stained face to her friends, Morgelyn shook her head in awe.  "'Tis truly miraculous--we looked for this all during the time of the pestilence.  The very first cure in Grandmother's book--here, look--"  She fumbled to take it out of the pouch at her belt.

"How long?" Robert choked.  He shuffled forward with Father Ezekiel's guidance.  "How long did we look for this?  After all the years in which it did not grow--that it has come back now is a sign of blessing."

The crowd behind him seemed to let out a collective sigh--faces relaxed, a few shed tears.  Gary couldn't believe it.  For all their fear of witchcraft, their faith in this magic seemed just as strong as their faith in the Church.  But that was fine, even if he didn't understand it, as long as it meant--

"Morgelyn," Gary said quietly, and he knelt so that his back kept anyone but Fergus from seeing the book.  He still had the light-filled Dragon's Eye cradled in his hands.  "What does the end say?"

"The end?"

"Did we change the story?"

They held their breath as she turned to the ending pages.  Gary didn't realize that he'd closed his eyes until he heard Fergus's whooshing release of air.  He couldn't read the words he saw there, but the Latin epitaph was gone, the handwriting was different, and Morgelyn, her hand over her mouth, was looking up at him with absolute joy in her eyes.  "We did it," she whispered.  "That horrible story is gone; this plant will cure--oh, Gary--"  Throwing her arms around his neck, she could have been sobbing or laughing.  Maybe both.  "You really are a dragon slayer!"

"Forgive me, but--"  Tapping Gary on the shoulder, Fergus indicated the villagers who stood a safe distance away, looking entirely perplexed.  "Now they really will think you are both touched."

"No, oh no..."  Morgelyn let go of Gary and he helped her to stand.  "Simon?" she called over the crowd.  "Please, before you take Nessa's offer--if you will just give me a few minutes, I can--I know I can make Lara better."

The crowd parted; Simon stood up near the church, still rooted next to his wife.  Gary had no idea if he'd heard Morgelyn.  But Anna came forward, gesturing back at Father Ezekiel, who had carried her son across the churchyard.  "Tolan first," she begged, then looked down and saw the bandage on Morgelyn's hand.  "I will help you pick the flowers."

"And the leaves, we need the leaves, but do not take all of them, or the plants will not survive."  The tension of the past few days seemed to lift off Morgelyn's face; she was suddenly all business--back at home in a world she understood, Gary thought with more than a little relief.  "They must be boiled into a tonic."

"Use the rectory," Father Ezekiel said, and no one stopped them as they took the flowers, the leaves, and the boy, and headed for the little house beside the church.





Part 79

deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
          ~ e e cummings


"Next you'll be measuring me for armor..."

"Hobson, he--he reminded me of someone..."

"I want to believe this...Just like old times--Chuck to the rescue..."

"We can help all of them; I believe that."


Whatever the others saw, it seemed to Marissa that she heard what happened with her inner ear, as a whirlpool of voices, of hopes and fears and fragile faith--they spun together, gathering force, and then shot up and out, away from the little group huddled on the pier.  They stood at the intersection of time and place, of faith and need, and created a connection that was, for a few brief seconds, utterly tangible.

And then the beam they'd sent out came back to them, rushing with the power of the storm.  It hurled itself at them in the dreadful wind--terror and strength; guttural cries and desperate pleas in a language she couldn't understand; horror and hope and a familiar hand on her shoulder, just for a second, gone before she could grasp it and hold on.  There were hatred and faith and confusion and love in the crackling of burning wood, and something that was greater than all those--and then the overwhelming scent of a forest and flowers, relief and joy and--

In a heartbeat, it was gone.

Marissa didn't realize that she was crying, tears running unchecked down her cheeks, until she felt Chuck's arm around her shoulder.  "Hey, you okay?"

The umbrella was gone, too; rain fell on her face, soft and steady, but the wind had settled into a few halfhearted gusts.  "I--I don't know," she answered honestly, wiping her face with her palm.  The thunder gave one last low rumble out over the lake and died away.  "Did you feel it?"

"Feel it?  Heck, we saw..."  Chuck's voice trailed off; he patted her shoulder once and then released her.  

She reminded herself to keep breathing and steadied the Dragon's Eye with both hands.  Her adrenaline was draining away fast--but it wasn't--it couldn't be over.  

Because if it was, Gary should be home.

Marissa couldn't ask about that yet; couldn't bear to hear the answer.  "What did you see?" she managed, and hoped they would attribute the way she shivered and the quake in her voice to the rain and the cold.  

"It was sorta--light--color--Marissa, that thing is weird, okay?"

"But Gary--"

"I think I heard him--but I don't--it didn't make any sense."  Chuck sounded as lost as she felt, but she could tell by his voice that he'd put distance between them, greater than her arm's reach.

"Crumb?"  He, at least, was right there.  His arm brushed hers when she swayed a little, but he was so uncharacteristically silent that it frightened her.

"Yo.  Crumb?"  Chuck snapped his fingers.

The gruff voice started out low and quiet, but it built to a thundering crescendo.  "What.  The.  Hell.  Was.  THAT?"

"It was Gary."  It had to have been.  Marissa was certain that she'd sensed something of her friend in that roar of emotion and sensation.  "Will one of you please tell me what happened?"

"There was a light that came out of this thing--it was like a--it was like a CGI effect or something, all these--these colors mixing together--you can't do that in real life--"

"It sorta sent a beam out over the lake," Crumb mumbled, but she could tell he still didn't believe it himself.

"And then it came back.  It went back--this is nuts--"

"It went back into the ball," Crumb finished.  "It's still kinda dancing around in there."

Marissa pulled the Dragon's Eye in close, cradling it and wiping raindrops away with her thumb.  It was still warm.  "What about--what did you feel?"  

"Very, very confused.  Freaked out," said Chuck emphatically.  "But it was kinda...like last night.  Gar was there, wasn't he?"

There was a moment of silence, then Crumb said, "You know, I've worked some tough calls.  There was a train wreck once, back when I was a rookie--and some of the race riots--and after the Bulls won the championship.  This--this was kinda like all that.  People and noise and confusion."

Marissa nodded.  "But not all bad."

"Nnnoooo..."  Crumb seemed to have a harder time acknowledging the good things that had been there--she knew they had been there, she had felt them.  "Am I gonna remember this when I wake up?"

"You're awake, Crumb.  We all are."

"Do you, uh--do you think we helped Gary?"  Chuck asked.  "Did he change the story?"

"I felt him.  He was at the other end of this, I know he was.  There was a moment at the end where--where I thought--it was like Christmas and Easter and the Fourth of July, all wrapped into one.  Didn't you feel it?"

Both men were silent for a moment.  And then Chuck sidled close again and asked the question that Marissa could barely stand to hear.  "Okay, but if it was Gary," he said slowly, "why isn't he here?"  He wrapped his hand around her arm, a gentle demand for an answer she didn't possess.  "Marissa, why didn't he come home?"





Chapter 80

Witchcraft was hung, in History,
But History and I
Find all the Witchcraft that we need
Around us, every Day.
          ~ Emily Dickinson


They had to brave a gantlet of wide eyes and gaping mouths to cross the graveyard.  Halfway to the rectory, Morgelyn tugged on Gary's sleeve.  "Bring Robert," she whispered.  Gary was reluctant to leave her side, but she urged him on with a nod.  Fergus and Father Ezekiel were with her; they wouldn't let anything happen.  The others turned for the rectory, and the villagers who remained were left staring at Gary, some fearfully, some with outright mistrust and hostility.  It should have been all over after the Dragon's Eye's incredible display.  So why did he still feel so uneasy?

Because, even though Morgelyn was safe for the moment, this was a fragile truce, a tenuous peace created more by awe than by feelings of genuine goodwill.  Many in the crowd spoke quietly to each other, frowning at Gary; others still stared at the forest in abject astonishment.  Every single one of them got out of his way.

Gary concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the stares while he tried to sort out what he'd felt in those few moments of light and--whatever had just happened.  It had to have been about more than just a plant.  He'd followed that light, not because of where it led, but because of what he thought he'd felt in it--but now he wasn't sure he could describe it.  It just felt right, like home, like Chicago, like McGinty's.  It was as if all the grief and trouble they'd gone through had led up to that moment, and at that moment, his trust in that feeling had been all that mattered.  The light, he saw as he looked down at the Dragon's Eye, was still there, trapped inside once more.  It had lost some of its brilliance, but as he wrapped his hand around the globe, he could feel lingering traces of warmth and...connection, that was the word.  Connection to home, to the people who wanted to help, and not just to help him.  He ran a thumb over the glass.  He didn't have to tell Marissa he was sorry, not any more.

In the time that it took to suss that much out, he made it to the church, where Robert was slumped against the side wall, lost in another coughing fit.  Gary waited for it to pass, then touched the man on the shoulder, wondering if he could feel anything through the layers of rags he wore.  "It's Gary," he said as he hauled a muttering Robert to his feet.  "Here, you take my arm.  It works better that way.  You won't feel like I'm pushing you."  Marissa had taught him this back when he'd first met her; now, Robert leaned on his cane, leaned away from Gary, and raised an eyebrow. 

"I can find my own way home, Dragon Slayer."

Gary wondered about that; where exactly was home for the old man anyway?  "I know that," he said quietly, "but Morgelyn wants to see you.  She wants to help you, and there are a few, uh--"  He scanned the uneasy crowd.  "There are a few obstacles between here and the rectory house, okay?"  To his surprise, Robert didn't resist.  But when Gary tried to lead him around to the front of the church, where the path led to the rectory off on the side of the hill, he realized they'd have to go through the crowd that still lingered around Lara, who lay in the grass in an awkward tangle of arms, legs, and hair, just as she'd fallen.  Gary hesitated, and would have tried to bring her along so she could get help, too, but Simon knelt next to her.  He was oblivious to his children nearby, oblivious to the neighbors who tried to speak to him.   

"One obstacle at a time," Robert muttered.  "Leave Elders be."

"How did you..."  Gary shook his head.  It was probably not a question he wanted answered.  A whisper-soft breeze tickled the back of his neck, and the Dragon's Eye in his hand seemed to grow warmer as he led Robert through the crowd.  Most people still were giving him a wide berth, but a few acknowledged him with a nod, or, in Nia's case, a smile.  She ventured closer when he shot her a half-hearted grin, her eyes twinkling and her teeth peeking through her tentative smile.  "We never did have that dance, Gary."

It seemed to him that it had been light years since that day at the fair.  "Well, uh..."

Nia raised her voice.  "'Tis a fine thing that you did."  Tilting her chin defiantly, she popped up on tiptoe to brush a quick kiss on Gary's cheek.  Robert guffawed, but, even though she blushed, Nia stepped away with her head held high.  "We need Morgelyn," she said, for the benefit of those around her.  "And I never want to be a vassal to--to anyone."  She flashed Gary a hurried smile before she stepped back toward her father, who sat on a stump, watching her with an equal mixture of pride and amusement.  Glancing over his shoulder, Gary saw why Nia had retreated so abruptly.  Nessa stood a few yards away, framed by the arched door of the church.  She'd heard Nia, and now she was staring at Gary with anger in her eyes. 

Pulling herself up to her full height, she said, "Simon, my steward has already gone to fetch the physician.  He will be here soon."

Robert tugged on Gary's elbow, urging him away.  But this wasn't over yet, and Gary couldn't leave until he had some kind of assurance that his friends would be safe, that this wouldn't blow up in their faces all over again.

And Morgelyn had said from the beginning that she wanted to save the whole village.

Even those who'd hurt her?  Chewing on his lip, Gary looked from the Dragon's Eye to the back of Simon's head.  He had to try.  He could hardly picture leaving now, knowing that the next bad thing that happened, or the one after that, might make the hostilities flare up all over again.

He patted Robert's hand before he lifted it off his sleeve.  "Wait here."

Simon Elders hadn't seen Gary; his back to the crowd, he bent over his wife.  James stood just beyond and, curled into a ball at her brother's feet, Tamsyn peeked out through her long tangles of hair.  As Gary approached, Simon tapped his palm against Lara's face, trying to get her to wake up.  There was a tenderness in the way he swept the sweat-stuck hair from his wife's cheek that kept Gary from hating the man entirely, and gave him the impetus to ignore the cold stare that Nessa trained on him.

When Gary cleared his throat, Simon leapt to his feet, arms spread wide to protect his family.  "I don't want to hurt her," Gary said, trying to banish the pictures of what Simon had done, the words he had said to Morgelyn...he could never do this if he dwelt on those memories.  "I tried to stop anyone from getting hurt today, that's all I was doing."

Simon's arms dropped to his sides, his hands curled into fists.  His eyes were still hard as flint, but tiny sparks of doubt flickered through them.  "My wife--"  His voice dropping to a whisper, he looked down at Lara.  "She is dying.  I have no choice.  The children need her."  Tamsyn gave a sob and buried her face in her mother's skirt.  James tensed, desperate, Gary could tell, for something to do. 

"Dragon Slayer," Robert growled hoarsely, "you cannot win every battle."

But Gary couldn't shake the feeling that he had to win this one.  "I understand, Simon; really, I do.  You've been angry, and you're not sure what's going on, and you needed someone to blame.  But if you--I promise you, if you trust Morgelyn, she won't let you down."  He waved an arm in the direction his friends had gone, but dropped it when he realized, belatedly, that Simon was staring in fascinated horror at the Dragon's Eye with which he'd gestured.

He had to be careful; if he pushed Simon too far he'd lose him entirely.  And he couldn't lose him, not now, or everything that had happened would have been in vain. 

It was only a plant.  The treasure the Dragon's Eye had led them too, the magic it had revealed, was nothing more than a plant.  But what the treasure was didn't matter as much as what it could do.  There hadn't been that bit of magic, that flash of light, that feeling of--of trust pushing him forward--for nothing. 

Not for nothing.  He believed that, and he put that faith into what he said next.  "Simon, by the time Lady Nessa's man gets here, Morgelyn could have already helped your wife."  He dared a step closer, lowering his voice.  "It's what she wanted, isn't it?  I know you don't trust me, but do you trust Lara?"

"Papa."  His voice timid, James flexed his fingers and toed at the ground.  "Mama said, this morning when you did not come home, sh-she was crying because she could not get out of bed and she needed help and she said--"  Drawing a breath, he squared his shoulders and seemed to grow a couple inches, a boy becoming a man as he stared at his father.  "She said if you had not condemned Morgelyn, she would not have been so sick.  Is that true?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Simon, do not listen to this child," Nessa said, but she stilled when Gary shot her a warning look.

Tamsyn snuffled, lifting her dirt-and-tear-streaked face.  "I want Mama!" she wailed.  Lara stirred, but didn't open her eyes, and, sensing that Simon's opposition might be weakening, Gary took the opening.

"Robert here got sick before Mark did," Gary said, gesturing at the blind man.  "He took the medicine Morgelyn gave him; so did Tolan, and they're both still alive to be helped now.  Mark didn't, and he's--"  Gary stopped and tried to cover his gaff by clearing his throat.  It wouldn't do to remind them of the wrong things.  "Look, if you just--why don't you come with us, at least bring your wife inside?  If you decide to take Nessa's offer, the physician can treat Lara there, but at least she'll be comfortable."

"Don't like the lady lying in the churchyard before she's even dead," Robert added.  "Temptin' fate, Elders."

Simon blanched.  Gary saw a shudder run through the man as he looked again at his wife.  "I will bring her inside for her comfort.  That is all," he finally muttered.  As he bent to lift Lara, Simon caught his son's eyes.  "Help me, boy."  A flash of pride cut through the worry and fear on James's face, and he and his father gathered Lara in a chair lift and started toward the rectory. 

Gary guided Robert's hand back to his elbow--it felt strange, but in a good way, to have someone trusting him with this little job again.  Tamsyn scuttled over and slipped her sticky fingers over the hand he had on the Dragon's Eye, blinking the last tears from her eyes as she lifted her face.  "Can you fix my mama?  Can you touch her with the rainbow and make her better?"

Behind them, the crowd stirred, and Gary cast an uneasy glance their way.  They still didn't trust him.

"Please?" Tamsyn begged.

"I--uh--"  He gulped.  The rainbow, so to speak, was still playing inside the Dragon's Eye, and Gary could feel the villagers' stares boring into him.  "I think what Morgelyn's making can fix her better than that," Gary said, half-turning so more people could see them, "but do--do you want to try?"  Before he could second guess himself, before he could give in to the temptation to hide the thing away from prying eyes, he held out the treasure to Tamsyn.  "It belongs to all of you, really.  It won't hurt you."

Fingers in her mouth, Tamsyn hesitated.  Simon and James didn't see what was happening; they were halfway to the rectory already.  But Gary noticed that several people made the sign of the cross, and many of them backed away.  Again, it was Nia who found her voice. 

"Father Ezekiel said it was a miracle.  There is nothing to fear."  She took the globe from Gary's outstretched hands.  Her movements were careful, and only Gary was close enough to see the way her fingers shook.  But once she had it, a relieved smile transformed her features from a gawky adolescent's to those of a confident young woman.  She knelt next to Tamsyn, tracing the path of a blue swirl of light with one finger.  Tamsyn glanced off in the direction her father had gone, chewing her lip, then touched the glass ball with her index finger.  A smile lit her face, too. 

"'Tis true!" she whispered.  Gary nodded when she asked, "Can I really hold it?" and they shared a grin of pure joy, while Robert grunted in satisfaction.

"Papa!" Tamsyn called after her father.  "Papa, Mama is going to be well!"  She wrapped both arms tight around the Dragon's Eye and hurried after her father on wobbly legs.  Gary was suddenly swept with a feeling of loneliness, and he knew he couldn't let it get too far out of his sight. 

"Thank you," he said to Nia, and, on impulse, lifted her hand and kissed it.  It made him feel a little like Cary Grant.  Blushing to match the roots of her hair, Nia smiled after him as he led Robert toward the rectory.  Nessa made some kind of exasperated noise, but Gary didn't look back.

The rectory didn't seem as large as it had on his first visit.  That was probably because of the crowd that filled it:  Anna sat next to Tolan, who lay on a pile of blankets near the fire.  Morgelyn was tearing the leaves and flowers of the dragon's wort and handing them to Fergus, who tossed them into a kettle over the fire.  Gary didn't miss the fact that she stayed well away from the hearth.  Certainly no one could help but notice the ominous scowl Fergus directed at Simon--except maybe Simon himself, who was at the other end of the room, where Father Ezekiel pulled back a curtain to reveal a sleeping room like the one in Morgelyn's cottage.  Simon and James eased Lara down onto the bed after the priest smoothed the rough blanket; Morgelyn nudged Fergus and handed him more leaves, and he turned off the death look.  One post-crisis confrontation avoided, Gary thought, but he wondered how many more there would be.

He helped Robert to sit at the table.  Cecily hovered near the fire and stirred the kettle, following Morgelyn's instructions.  The only one missing was Declan, but when Gary asked about him, Father Ezekiel would only say that he'd sent him on an errand that morning.

Grim-faced and silent, Simon retreated to the dark corner farthest from the fire and stood glowering at everyone in the place.  His children sat with their mother, who only woke every few minutes from her fever to cough and mumble incoherently.  Morgelyn started across the room, but that brought Simon out of his corner, jaw set, arms crossed over his chest.  Reluctantly, she let Fergus tug her back near the fire, and they began ladling the stuff in the kettle into cups for Robert and Tolan. 

Gary settled himself on the bench at the table between the fire and the sleeping alcove.  Morgelyn's book lay on the table, open to a page that held a drawing similar to the flowers they'd found, along with lots of writing that he couldn't decipher.  Flipping to the back, he found what he was looking for; some pictures that he guessed were supposed to illustrate the dragon story Morgelyn and Joseph had told the villagers a few days ago.  Nobody getting burned at the stake.  Warm fur brushed his ankle where the too-short pants didn't quite meet the tops of his boots, and Cat's purr vibrated against his skin. 

"Hey, buddy."  Gary reached down to scratch the tabby behind its ears.  "Where ya been?"  As if he'd ever get an answer.  Fergus sat down across from Gary, a mug of ale in his hand.  He peeked under the table to see what Gary was doing, and came up shaking his head.

"It still seems like a great deal of trouble for a cat," he said.

"And a plant," Gary reminded him.  "Don't forget the plant."  They shared a rueful smile.

"Look, Papa, it is still working."  Tamsyn, who'd been playing with her mother's hair, wandered over to Simon and tried to show him the Dragon's Eye.  He ignored her at first, and then, when she persisted, he blinked down as though really seeing the child for the first time. 

"What are you doing with that?  'Tis an evil thing.  Put it down."

Tamsyn shook her tangled hair and stomped her foot.  "It is not bad.  They said it was not."

"They were wrong."

Father Ezekiel looked up from the hushed conversation he was having with Anna.  "Simon Elders."  His voice was loaded with the full weight of his authority, and Simon snapped to attention.  "Have you taken note of all that has happened here today?  You can see it is not hurting her."

Fergus leaned across the table.  "Do you not need that?  How will you--"  But Gary held up a hand and he fell silent.

"I do not want my child handling that--that thing."  Simon kept his voice low, but his face was turning red from the effort of holding it in.

Gary stood.  "Then take it away from her."

Simon fixed him with an incredulous stare.  "You are mad."

"If you think it's so dangerous, shouldn't you save your daughter from it?  What would--what would your wife say?" 

"You must take it, priest," Simon boomed at Father Ezekiel.  There was more terror than command laced through his words.

"No, Simon, you take it."  Though he knew the man's wife lay on the brink of death, Gary kept on pushing, tweaking him.  It felt like the right thing to do--and not because Simon had done so much more than tweak the past couple of days.  This wasn't some territorial schoolyard dare; too much depended on it.  The future, their future, was at stake.  "You weren't afraid to throw Morgelyn on the fire, so why should you be afraid of this?"

"I was drunk," Simon muttered, studying at his mud-crusted boots. 

Gary looked over his shoulder at Morgelyn.  She'd heard every word; smoothing Tolan's hair in a mechanically rhythmic motion, she stared warily at Simon, still too much like a cornered mouse for Gary's comfort.  Simon hadn't said, "I was wrong," not yet, and Gary knew that even the glimmer of confession that had come was due to the fact that the only authority figure here, now, was on Morgelyn's side.  But it was another tiny step in the right direction.  He could tell because Cat had jumped up on the table and was watching the scene with its unfathomable stare.

Fergus stood up, too.  "Do you fear to touch the very thing your child has cradled in her arms without harm, without fear?" 

Behind them, Cecily let out a breathy giggle.

Simon looked up sharply.  "Of course I am not afraid, MacEwan, you pip-squeak--"

"But while your child is innocent, you are not."  Father Ezekiel narrowed the distance between himself and Elders.  "Is that what you fear, Simon?  Retribution?"

Gary gulped.  That was further than he would have gone, more than he would have even thought of, but Ezekiel had hit the nail on the head.  Simon flashed a guilty glance at Morgelyn.  It was what he--not wanted, exactly, but expected.  In fact, he already seemed to have decided what form it was going to take.  He looked from Morgelyn to his wife, and his features sagged, his face suddenly years older. 

"She will be taken away from me because I..."  Simon trailed off, and though no one else spoke, he didn't finish.

Father Ezekiel's sigh was pure exasperation; pure Crumb, Gary thought with a half-grin.  "Simon, this is not the work of God.  If your wife dies, you might see it as punishment for your sins, but is it right that your children should be punished as well?"

"Mama is not  going to die," Tamsyn insisted.  She held the globe up to her father again.  "The rainbow is still dancing."  Cat meowed from its perch on the table.

Father Ezekiel rested a hand on Tamsyn's head.  "Would a loving God, a God who has allowed this miracle to take place on His very doorstep, extract penance from your children?"

Finally, finally, there was a real crack in the stone wall that was Simon Elders.  "I--Father, I--"  He shook his head, and looked down to hide his confusion, but instead of a hiding place, he found his daughter--and the Dragon's Eye.

"Here, Papa, you can have it.  It will make you feel better."

Simon looked at his daughter, at his wife, at his priest.  Then he looked at Morgelyn.  Her shoulders were back now, and her chin was up, and there was nothing intimidated about her that Gary could see. 

"I--I thought...damn."  Simon shook his head and turned back to his daughter.  After another moment's hesitation, he took the ball and wrapped his fingers around it. 

Gary held his breath, hoping against hope that they'd done the right thing.  Simon took a few shuffling steps toward his wife and knelt at her side. 

Father Ezekiel cleared his throat and turned a raised eyebrow on the assembled group, and they all found a reason to look away from the Elders family.  There were plenty of other tasks to attend to.





Chapter 81

The arc of the moral universe is long,
But it bends toward justice.
             ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.


Gary handed Robert the mug that Morgelyn had prepared and helped the old man drink.  Cradling his head on his arms, Robert was soon slumped over the table and snoring softly.  Morgelyn smiled when she heard the sound, so Gary assumed it was a good sign.

Before long Tolan was sitting up, looking around with real curiosity.  It was the first time Gary had seen the boy awake, and he really was awfully cute, even though his skin was way too pale against all that red hair.  But his cough had stopped, and he was responding to Anna and Morgelyn.  Anna kept darting shy glances at Gary, who finally managed to keep her gaze long enough to send her an encouraging smile.  "That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do, you showing up in the church like that," he told her.  "Thank you."

Anna blushed and looked down. 

"Gary is right," Morgelyn told her quietly.  "You--"

But she broke off and jumped to her feet when a shadow fell across the room.  Gary turned around and understood why he'd seen the fear return to her expression--Lady Nessa and her physician stood in the open doorway. 

Nessa's physician wasn't much to look at; he was an older man with very little hair circling his bald top.  He stayed in the doorway while Nessa stepped into the room.  Cecily ducked behind Fergus with a squeak.  Ignoring her former maid, Nessa trained her cool gaze on Morgelyn.  "I heard that some of the sick were here.  Despite that little...display you put on earlier, surely you will give way to a more trained healer."

"She is doing quite well on her own," Father Ezekiel said stiffly.  Robes swirling behind him, he crossed the room to stand in front of the table, in front of all the others, with Gary.  "Where is your hired help, Lady Nessa?"

"I am not sure what you--"

Gary should have been used to her implacable façade by now, but whereas before it had creeped him out, now it just made him angry.  "Banning."  He ground out the word one last time, hating the way it tasted in his mouth.

"Father Malcolm and Brother Banning are on their way to the bishop.  I am sure they will have a great deal to tell him about you," she said with a cool nod at Father Ezekiel, "and your interference in a parish that is not truly your own."

"And I am sure, Lady, that His Grace will be most interested in what they have to say for themselves.  My nephew left this morning to bring him a full account of the past few days."  Ezekiel crossed his arms and scowled at her.  "Of course, we will have to bring the bishop up to date on today's events, but considering the fact that he has already offered me a permanent assignment in Gwenyllan, and expressed his doubts about Malcolm's true vocation, I am quite sure that it will be some time before we see either Father Malcolm or Brother Banning in these parts again."

Gary could hear Morgelyn's relieved sigh behind him.  Okay, he thought, maybe it really was over.

Hesitation flashed through Nessa's eyes, but she kept the defiant look plastered on her face.  "In any case, priest, we have very little left to say to each other."  She turned to the Elders family.  "Simon, you will allow Odo Dutetre to attend to your wife while you and I discuss the terms of our agreement."

Simon looked from Nessa to his wife, and then to where Morgelyn stood next to Anna and her son.  Morgelyn opened her mouth, then bit her lip, and Gary, too, kept silent.  They'd made their case. 

"He has been trained in the French court," Nessa said, as if that were reason enough to sell out an entire village.

"I do not think--" Simon started, then looked at his wife.  Again at Morgelyn, at Father Ezekiel. 

"Once you make this choice you cannot go back," Ezekiel said quietly.  "Think of what Nessa's generosity will cost you."

"Think of what your peasant superstition will cost your wife," Nessa countered.  She shifted as if to make a move toward Simon, but Gary matched her, blocking her access to the room.

"Let Morgelyn try," Anna pleaded, getting stiffly to her feet.  Her voice was timid and quiet, but she looked Simon in the eye.  "Mark lost his life because he was so stubborn.  Simon--you were always wiser than my husband, better able to use your mind.  Listen to reason."

"She is my wife--"

"And she is my friend, and the mother of James and Tamsyn."  Anna nodded to the children who sat on the edge of the bed, James holding Tamsyn on his lap and Tamsyn again clutching the Dragon's Eye.  Gary wondered if it could produce another miracle, one that would push Simon onto their side, but somehow that didn't seem right.  He hoped it wouldn't be necessary. 

"Father," James said softly.  "Mother wanted Morgelyn.  She would not like a stranger touching her.  And look at Tolan, he is practically well now."  At that, Nessa cocked her head curiously toward the little group by the fire, and Gary saw the wheels start to turn in her head.  But James didn't notice.  "And Father, I--I do not want to work for anyone else.  I want to work our farm, and pass it down to my own children someday."

Simon stared at his son as if he were seeing him for the first time, as if it was finally registering with him that this boy was very nearly his own man.  He grunted. 

"He may not live to have children, if you do not choose wisely."  Nessa snapped her attention back to Simon and held her hand out to him.  "These country cures are useless--"

"It is more than a country cure."  Morgelyn stepped forward, offering Simon one of Ezekiel's pewter mugs.  "It is a gift from--from God's green earth, and no less a miracle because of that.  Look at Tolan, Simon, and at Robert.  It is not just your freedom, but her life you may be sacrificing."  Simon stared at the mug, but didn't take it.

"Morgelyn is willing to try, after what you tried to do--after what you did," Fergus pointed out.  "Nessa will only let you use her man if you give her everything you own."

Everything hung in the balance here, and some of Gary's earlier sense of danger, of the future balanced on a knife edge, returned.  Morgelyn had thought he'd come to save the village, but in order to do that, he'd had to save her.  And that was so that Simon would have a choice to make now...but the outcome still rested on the choice of one stubborn, hard-hearted man. 

Simon reached out as if to take Lara's hand, but she murmured something in her fever, and his hand fell back to his side. 

"I will not make this offer again."  Nessa's façade was practically gone now; her words were shrill and she was suddenly several shades paler.  "You will be a widower, penniless, begging for my help and I will turn you away--"

"I would never beg," Simon said gruffly, and whatever had broken in him before seemed to be stitching itself back together.  He touched Tamsyn's head, squeezed James's shoulder.  "I thank you for your offer, Lady Nessa, but I fear I must...I must refuse."

"Simon..."  She tried again, but the big man was too busy staring at his wife, counting every deep breath that came without a cough.

"I believe that what Simon Elders wishes to say is that your help comes at too high a cost.  And I shall say so to any man who asks for my counsel in this matter."  Father Ezekiel held out an arm to the door, Nessa's cue to exit.

"As shall I," Simon added in a mumble.

"You do not speak for the entire village.  There will be those who accept my offer of protection."

"There will be more," Father Ezekiel told her, "who do not."

Nessa stood frozen; everyone else in the room seemed to wilt a little with relief.  Morgelyn hurried over to the bed; Simon stepped away with a nod, not meeting her eyes.  James lifted Lara's head so that Morgelyn, sitting on the bed, could spoon the potion into her mouth.  Though her eyes remained closed, Lara smiled gratefully.  When James eased her back on the straw mattress, the lines on her face softened.  "She sleeps comfortably," Morgelyn said after a few minutes.  She stroked Tamsyn's hair and flashed an encouraging smile at James, but she didn't look at Simon, who stood like a stone at the foot of the bed.  "Let her rest."

Even while he was watching the little scene at the bed, Gary kept part of his attention focused on Nessa and her physician.  He wasn't too worried about Odo, who still stood in the doorway like his lady's shadow, but Nessa was still, even now, scheming.  He could see it in her eyes and in the tiny smile that was starting to curve her lips.

"I think you can go now," Gary told her, hoping to forestall whatever it was she had planned. 

She lifted one thin eyebrow in his direction, and Gary wondered how he could have ever thought her smile less than feral.  How could he have ever kissed--mead, he told himself.  Way too much mead. 

"Perhaps not yet.  Morgelyn, may we speak?"  Nessa asked, and every nerve in Gary's body went on full alert.  She'd sounded almost friendly.  What did she want now?

Morgelyn got to her feet, wary once more.  She came over to join Gary and Ezekiel, and Simon took her place next to his wife.  Arms crossed over her chest, Morgelyn stared at Nessa, but didn't say anything.  That didn't seem to bother Nessa at all.

"This plant that you have found--if it is as valuable as you say it is, if it really can cure the villagers of their sickness--you do realize that it could make you a very rich woman?  People from miles around, from all over the world, would pay dearly for such an effective cure.  I could help you make them aware of your...your blessing."

Gary couldn't believe what he was hearing.  "Just a minute ago, you were calling it useless; just a day ago you were calling her a witch."  He pointed at Nessa, as if his finger were some kind of magic wand that could just...just make her go away.  "How can you--"

But Father Ezekiel cleared his throat, and, when Gary looked at him, inclined his head toward Morgelyn.  Let her fight her own battles.  Okay, Gary thought.  For now.  He dropped his hand back down to his side.  But if Nessa thought for one minute that she could fool anyone in this room, he was ready to interfere.

"I will not deny help to any that ask for it," Morgelyn said, and she clutched the empty mug to her as if it were a shield.  "But the dragon's wort does not belong to me.  It belongs to all of the village, and we will, together, see that it is fairly given to all those in need."

A genuine frown creased Nessa's features; she seemed perplexed at Morgelyn's reaction.  "You could become a rich woman--"

"No," Morgelyn said quietly, then louder: "No.  I have seen what your kind of wealth may do to a woman's heart, and I want no part of it."

"And if there is any wealth to be gained here, we certainly do not want it filtered through you."  Everyone turned to Fergus, who stood back by the fire with Cecily.  Gary rolled his eyes at him--Fergus was nothing if not consistent--and Ezekiel gave his head a disgusted shake, but Morgelyn's mouth twisted into a smile.  Maybe, Gary thought, because things were almost back to what passed for normal around here. 

Almost.

"I really think you should go now," he told Nessa when he turned back to her, and just to emphasize the point, he stepped toward her, backing her into the doorway.

"It could have been wonderful between us," Nessa whispered.

"No," he said with a tight jaw.  "No, it couldn't have."  

One more fiery flash lit her eyes, then Nessa swept her skirts in a broad arc and turned to leave, ignoring Fergus when he called, "And you will need to hire a new maid!"

Gary watched her walk away with the obsequious physician, wanting more.  He wanted to wring an apology out of Nessa, not for himself but for Morgelyn, for everything she'd gone through that was still so clearly written on her face, her hand.  He even started to go after her, but Morgelyn followed him through the doorway, and as they stood watching Nessa's entourage leave the village, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tight, just the way Marissa did when she wanted to tell him something, or warn him without words. 

Gary shook his head.  "She can't just get away with all this."

"She takes nothing with her."

He looked down at Morgelyn, wondering if she felt as used up as he did.  "No, I meant--"

"I do know what you meant.  And I tell you again, she takes nothing with her.  We are alive--we are all alive--and we are free, thanks to you." 

"It wasn't just me.  They--my friends--"  Gary gestured into the cottage, where they could see the glow of the Dragon's Eye, still held tight in Tamsyn's sticky grip.  "They were here, somehow.  And Fergus helped, and you--"  He grinned down at her.  "You're a pretty tough cookie, ya know."

That got a laugh, even though it was an exhausted one.  "A tough cookie?"

"It's a compliment.  It means you were strong.  In some ways," he added, looking after Nessa, "stronger than I could have been."

"It is not easy to be a woman in this world," Morgelyn said slowly, "and there are many different kinds of strength.  Maybe with time, Nessa's anger will ease its hold on her heart.  And if not, we will stand against her.  Together."

They scanned the village, spread out before them.  Most of the people were going on about their business; some were even taking wood from the smoldering bonfire pile to their homes.  Gary thought about what Morgelyn had said.  He wasn't sure he could trust this resolution--but maybe that's what trust was about.  Taking some things on faith.  Things like the future.  "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

A frown chased its way across Morgelyn's face, like a thin cloud across the sun.  "I believe so.  Simon does care far more for Lara than Mark ever did for Anna.  And he does not want to raise those children alone.  He may not ever apologize, but I do not think he will be so foolish again, especially with Father Ezekiel here."

Gary let out a sigh of heartfelt relief.  "If you say so, then, I believe you."

"And yet," Morgelyn said with a sigh of her own, "part of my heart wishes it were not true."  She looked up at him, blinking in the sunlight.  "For now, you will leave us, will you not?"

"I..."  Gary studied a very interesting group of pebbles on the ground, and toed them with the soft sole of his shoe.  No, it actually wasn't his shoe, was it?  "I guess so."

"Well."  Squaring her shoulders, Morgelyn put on a smile that was a little bit forced.  "There is always some bitter with the sweet, or there is nothing gained but a toothache." 

"That another one of your grandmother's sayings?"

"No, 'tis my own.  It is new.  What do you think?"

Gary grinned at her as they turned back to the door.  "I think it needs a little work."

After a little more fussing over Tolan and Lara, they said their good-byes, Morgelyn promising to come back later and help Father Ezekiel distribute the dragon's wort potion.  "Perhaps it would be better if we called it a tea," Ezekiel said with a droll twist of his mouth.  Robert's satisfied snore seemed to settle the matter.

Gary retrieved the Dragon's Eye from Tamsyn, who'd been showing it to Tolan while they played with Cat.  The little boy was looking more animated by the minute, and he grinned sleepily at Gary but didn't seem to recognize him.  Gary wondered what he'd become, what Tamsyn would become--what would become of all of them.  It wasn't his to know, but hopefully, it would be something better than what they'd been headed for twenty-four hours ago.  Cat seemed to know that they were leaving; it sprang out of Tolan's lap and stalked over to stand between Gary and Morgelyn. 

Fergus and Cecily were already out the door when Gary offered his hand to Father Ezekiel, and found himself out of things to say.  The leap of faith Ezekiel had made had been huge.  Gary finally settled for: "Thank you.  I really mean it, you--thank you."

Raising an eyebrow at the tabby who meowed up at him, Father Ezekiel shook Gary's hand.  Those intense brown eyes peered back at Gary and, like Crumb, Ezekiel seemed to know a whole lot more than he'd been told.  "I am the one who owes you thanks, my son.  Safe journey to you."

Gary scanned the room, making sure that his gaze took in Morgelyn along with the sick people and their families.  "Take care of them," he said, and Ezekiel nodded.

Simon didn't turn from Lara as they left, but he said stiffly, so quietly that Gary could barely hear him, "Thank you."

Morgelyn nodded.  "You are welcome."





Chapter 82

I am the Voice of the Past that will always be
Filled with my sorrows and blood in my fields
I am the Voice of the Future
Bring me your peace, bring me your peace
And my wounds they will heal.
          ~ Brendan Graham


"Well."  Fingering the edge of her sleeve, Morgelyn met Gary's eyes for a split second, then looked away, first toward the willow tree, then out at the waterfall, just off to her right.  Its rushing noise drowned out the afternoon's birdsong.

"Yeah."  Gary rolled the Dragon's Eye between his palms, and tried not to notice the colored light dancing inside it.  It wasn't as if he knew what to say either.  Somehow, "See you in six hundred and fifty years," didn't sound right--and besides, it wasn't true.  Well, not exactly, anyway. 

Fergus was standing next to Morgelyn, but he'd been looking over at Cecily, who sat a few yards away under the willow, cooing at Cat.  The tabby seemed perfectly content to be fussed over, and Cecily fluttered a wave in their direction before relaxing back against the tree trunk, half-hidden by the fronds.  The picture of pastoral bliss, Gary thought, and wondered if Cat was planning on making the round trip with him.

"You definitely look more..."  Fergus frowned, his wave taking in Gary's attire.  It seemed best to wear his own clothes for this, but while the jeans and sweater felt wonderfully familiar, and infinitely better against his skin than the rougher medieval garb, it almost felt as if they were the costumes, and not the stuff he'd worn for the past few days.  "That is to say, your own clothes suit you.  But they are strange, my friend."

Gary shrugged.  "It's what I'm used to."

"Gary."  Morgelyn placed a hand over the Dragon's Eye.  "It has been calling you for hours now.  Your friends need you.  You should--you should go."

He nodded, then looked down at the crystal ball.  Going home was what he'd wanted all along, but now that it came to it, he wasn't sure he could just leave.  He wasn't sure how, for starters, though he had a feeling that the powers in charge of newspapers, miracles, and the Dragon's Eye were about to take care of that.  But it was more than that.  After all, it wasn't every day that a guy played the rope in a tug-of-war between two sets of friends--identical friends--half a millennium apart.  The thing was, he knew he could leave; Morgelyn and Fergus had their whole lives ahead of them.  But if everything went well, he'd be home in a few minutes, with his whole life in front of him--and theirs would be over, as they had been for six centuries. 

"Gary?" Morgelyn asked softly, and he had a feeling she'd read him the way Marissa always did, that she knew exactly what he'd been thinking. 

He flashed her a weak grin.  "I'll miss you."  He looked away from her suddenly-bright eyes, around at the river and the forest.  "I'll miss all of this, I think."

"Not the rocks and the cellars, I would suppose," said Fergus.

"Or the caves," Gary added fervently.  He frowned at the bruises that stained Morgelyn's face.  "You sure you're gonna be all right?"

She brushed the bandage on her left hand with the fingers of her right.  "I am certain.  Lara and Tolan and Robert are already recovering, and the rest of the sick villagers will have the potion by nightfall.  They owe their lives to you, Gary, to your friends and that ball, and--"

"And you," Gary finished.  "Both of you." 

While Fergus shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, Morgelyn reached out a finger and traced the lines of the Dragon's Eye's base.  "Aon d'amharc glan," she murmured.  "One of clearest sight.  That is you, Gary.  That is what it meant.  Tairngreacht , Grandmother would have called it--the gift of prophecy.  And Gary, I--I believe you were given that gift because you understand people's hearts.  You have faith in them, and the courage to speak your mind when it matters most."

Gary cleared his throat.  "I didn't do this alone, you know."

"Your friends."  Her finger moved to the globe, where the light still swirled.

"There and here.  All along you had--you believed that a dragon slayer would come.  And you--"  Gary turned to Fergus.  "You had the guts to stick around, when I know you would have rather gone your own way."

"Yes, well, you know the life of a bard."  Hands behind his back, Fergus bounced on the balls of his feet.  "Open highways, constant travel..."

"Fergus, what are you saying?"  Gary felt a twist of panic in his stomach.  Was this guy going to take off again and leave Morgelyn alone?

"But it is nothing without a friend--or two--to come home to," Fergus amended with a sly glance over at Cecily.  "And it is a life, perhaps, for a younger man than I.  Perhaps more than one curse was broken today."

Gary said, thinking of Kelyn, "Cecily's better for you than any road trip, okay?  Don't let her get away.  I have a feeling the two of you have a long and happy future together.  And take care of this for me," he said, pointing at the Dragon's Eye.

Fergus frowned, perplexed.  "But Morgelyn says you need that to get home."

"Well, I--I needed it to get here in the first place.  Kelyn, that girl who gave it to me, got it because it was passed down through her family for a long, long time.  I think she might be a descendant of yours.  She definitely has your eyes.  But she also has a lot of freckles." 

Fergus frowned.  "Oh?"  Then his eyes grew round.  "Oh!" 

"This'll probably come out in the wash.  You know, when you're fishing," Gary went on, nodding toward the river.  "So take good care of it.  And stick around for a while, make sure--Morgelyn's gonna need a friend." Morgelyn gave a little snort.  "Well, you will," Gary told her.

"She has that," Fergus assured him.  "She has that indeed.  And if you should ever need--well--perhaps this will come in handy."  Fergus held out the same bejeweled dagger he'd tried to give Gary earlier that morning. 

"I can't--" Gary started, but then he saw the hopeful expression in Fergus's eyes, and remembered how he'd offered to sell that dagger to him at their first meeting.  "Okay," he finally acquiesced, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket with the well-worn, several-days-old copy of the Sun-Times.  The fact that the story about his supposed drowning was still there was the one thing pushing him to leave.

Fergus surprised Gary by throwing an arm around his shoulders in a half-hug.  "Take care, my friend," he said as he stepped back.  "Thank you."

Morgelyn held out the small jar of ointment that she'd urged on him for his bruises.  "Perhaps you have a better cure in your own time, but if not--you will need something to help you heal."

Gary took it with a grin.  "It'll be perfect.  Thanks." 

He started to put it in his pocket, but Morgelyn said, "You must take this as well."  She held out a pin that was identical to the one that fastened her cloak.  The not-quite-closed silver circlet was dotted with a couple of green stones; both the circlet and the pin that went through it were carved with Celtic knotwork.  "It was my grandmother's."

"I--I can't--" Gary faltered, but when he'd stowed away the jar of ointment, she pressed the pin into his hand.

"It is not for you; somehow I do not think it would match your traveling garments."  Smiling, she curled his fingers over the treasure.  "My grandfather and my father, the last time they came safely home from the sea, brought these to us from Ireland.  I would never give up my own, and Mother's--Mother's stayed with her.  But I think Grandmother would want your friend to have hers.  It is a thanks for sending us help."  She squeezed his hand tight.  "For sending us the bravest of dragon slayers."

"I think--uh--"  Gary could see Marissa's smile in the one Morgelyn was trying to force.  He stowed the pin safely in the pocket with the knife.  "I think she'll like it very much."

"And finally, I do not know that it is as practical a protection as that dagger," Morgelyn said as she tucked a sprig of piney-looking stuff into the top outside pocket of Gary's coat, "but juniper is said to ensure a safe journey.  And we certainly wish that for you."

"Morgelyn."  Gary caught her hand when she would have withdrawn it.  "I--I'm glad I came.  For everything that happened, I--"  He swallowed hard, still haunted by what could have been.  "I wish I could have done more," he said, glancing at her other hand.

She shook her head.  "It will heal.  Far worse could have happened this day." 

He held onto her hand; he couldn't let her just brush this off.  "You had more faith in me than anyone I've ever helped.  And I wasn't what you expected, I know that.  I just--it means a lot.  I don't--I don't really have anything I can give you."  He sighed.  "All my stuff would probably get you into trouble."

"You saved my life and the only place I will ever belong," she said simply.  "There is nothing greater that you could give me than your friendship."

"You--you sure have that."

"I do not suppose that you can send us some sign when you reach home," Morgelyn said in a choked voice, "but I have faith that you will do so safely."  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, and he caught her up in a hug.  "Remember us," she whispered in his ear.  "Tell our story.  That would be the best gift you could offer."

He recalled what she'd told him once, how stories kept the truth alive, through centuries of change.  "I'll never forget," he promised, then, after a few silent seconds, reluctantly released his hold. 

"Yes, well."  Patting her hand on his jacket, Morgelyn looked down for a moment, blinking hard.  "This should be relatively simple, and I believe, this time, that we will not need to send you over the waterfall."

Gary grinned, relieved.  "I don't have to get wet?"

Fergus cackled.  "Of course you have to get wet.  You must, however, go *under* the waterfall instead of over it."

"I know you do not wish to," Morgelyn told Gary when he turned his best puppy-dog face on her, "but I think that water is the key; that is the path that allowed you to come, and the one you should use to leave."

"But I just got dried out from the last trip."

"Your journey will not take long, and at the end of it you will be home."  Morgelyn stepped with him into the rushing river, and gave him a little shove toward the waterfall.  "Home safe--"  Her voice caught and Gary turned around, swooped her up in one last crushing hug, not knowing if the water on his face was from the river or...something else.  It hardly seemed to matter.  But even as he thought that, even as he held on, the Dragon's Eye burned between them, its heat penetrating his jacket and sweater right through to his skin.  Cat yowled from its perch on the river bank.  "Trust the magic.  Go," Morgelyn insisted, and pushed him away.

Gary waded backward into the waterfall, watching his friends as the spill hit him in a freezing baptism, waving until the roaring curtain of water blurred them out of his sight, until all that was left was the water and the light he held.  "Home," he whispered, and wrapped his hands around the Dragon's Eye.  Metal and glass were the only solidity, all that he had to hold onto as the water pushed him down, down--

--his feet slipped out from under him, but he never hit the bottom of the river bed--

--he was falling and there was nothing left of the world but water--

It pressed him deeper and deeper, fathoms deep, until the wet clothes weren't clinging, the metal and glass were gone, light and breath were extinguished, and all that was left of Gary Hobson was the will to get home.





Chapter 83

A friend is someone who won't stop until he finds you--
and brings you home.
         ~ due South


"It's been hours."  Chuck plopped down on the bench next to Marissa.  She didn't answer.  She couldn't.  Well aware of how much time had passed, she knew what direction his thoughts and Crumb's must be running.  "Marissa, what if--"

"Please don't say it."  Now more than ever she couldn't face--

"What if he never comes back?"

"He will, he has to."  But her voice broke, betraying her fear.  "You saw what happened--that meant something."

"And I can also see that there's no Gary here."

"I don't know where--maybe--"  She couldn't say all the maybes, couldn't voice her fear that it was over, all of it, and this had been the last time Gary had ever needed them to help--that what had happened on the pier had been some kind of good-bye.  But it hadn't felt like a good-bye, or at least at the time she hadn't thought...Marissa was losing count of all the times she'd changed her mind, rationalized her hopes.

An intersection of time and place. 

Intertwined in time of need...

"Maybe there's a girl there," Chuck said, startling her out of the thought loop that she'd been stuck on since the rain had stopped. 

"What?"  The air was fresh and cool now, and she was dimly aware of more people in the park, laughter and wheels spinning on cement.

"Maybe Gar finally found a woman who can put up with him, and he decided to stay.  Like Brigadoon, when the guy goes back to the town in the mist and he just leaves his buddy for his true love.  Poof!--never seen again."

"I know the ending of Brigadoon, Chuck."  Marissa clutched at the wet edge of the bench. 

"I'm just sayin'--"

"Anybody want a pretzel?"  Crumb returned, trailing the smell of hot bread and salt.  Marissa shook her head.  "That thing still puttin' on a show?" he asked through a mouthful.

"Yes, it is," Marissa said, directing her pointed words at Chuck.  He'd been the one to tell her that there were bits of that colored light, faded but still present, left in the crystal ball.  She could feel the last traces of its warmth, a tangible whisper in her hand.  A tiny thread, she thought, of connection.

"It's nothing like it was earlier," Chuck retorted.  "I thought you said this would bring him back."

"I thought--I thought once he'd helped them, it would.  We can try it again, can't we?  Crumb?"

He sighed.  "Once I get home, remind me that I gotta look for something I lost."

"What's that?" Chuck asked.

"My marbles."

"Would both of you just--just stop?"  Though she was perfectly aware of how tired and snappish her voice sounded, Marissa was past caring.  "This isn't funny.  Gary needs us.  You both saw what happened."

"We did," Crumb said slowly, easing himself down on the bench next to her.  "And I'm not denyin' it was something out of the ordinary.  Way out of the ordinary.  But we've tried it again and again.  It just doesn't work any more, and seems like maybe...as hard as it is to say this..."  The paper wrapper of the pretzel crinkled, and then she heard Spike lapping up whatever was left of it.  "Maybe that's all there was, Marissa."

"I don't believe that."

Maybe this magic, whatever it was, had lost its hold on the others, but there was still something there, there had to be.  These men, these boys, that one man--they were going to break her heart.  She no longer knew what was real and what she was imagining.  All she could feel was tired, empty of all but one last, tiny spark of hope, the same one she'd kept burning all this time.  Before she knew what she was doing, she was up off the bench, turning her feet toward the pier.

"Hey, where're you going?"  She could feel the rough touch of residual salt crystals when Crumb grabbed her wrist. 

"I can't just sit around waiting for something to happen.  I'm going back out there."  She thrust her hand, the one holding the scrying glass, out toward the pier.  As surely as she stood there, as surely as her heart was breaking, she couldn't bear to believe that this was the end of days of hope.  She could feel the strands of metal digging into her palm.  And Gary's initials were still there, she was sure of it.  "We're not done."

Gary wasn't done here, in Chicago.  She needed him; they all needed him.  Marissa wasn't ready to stop helping him, and he wasn't ready to stop helping people, no matter how much he griped and complained.  He hadn't been ready four days ago on the dock and he wasn't ready now.  And she needed something, someone, like that to believe in; something bigger than all of them, some power that made sure things could come out right once in a while.  But more than that, she needed a friend, the one who'd always been there for her and cared about her and...Gary.  "I--I need Gary," she choked.

This time she couldn't stop the tears.  Bowing her head to hide them didn't do any good either; Crumb was there in a split second, holding her tight.  She needed to lean, she needed someone.  The crystal ball pushed hard against her chest.

"Crumb!"  Chuck's exclamation from somewhere down the path startled them both.  Crumb pulled away, leaving Marissa swaying against Spike. 

"Stay here," Crumb commanded, and they were gone, leaving Marissa with a warm, living ball of crystal, and a very confused guide dog.





Chapter 84

But they're waiting just the same,
With their flashlights and their semaphores
And I act like I have faith, and like that faith never ends
But I really just have friends.
            ~Dar Williams


Water again.

Gary's consciousness slammed back from whatever alternate dimension it had escaped to, fragmented and clutching at the first sensation it registered.

Water.  Not air. 

Need to breathe--but not water.

Need light. 

His eyes flew open, but the water was so murky that he couldn't see his hands.  Then he realized that they weren't holding anything anyway.  The Dragon's Eye was gone. 

All there was was water. 

And now panic.

Don't panic.  Swim.

Home.

Breathe.

Not yet, don't breathe water.

Up.  Where was up?

Light.  There was light, faint but glimmering above him.

Remember us...

His heart stabbed in his chest.

But don't look back. 

There was no back to look to.

He pulled his arms through the water, kicking toward the light.

Remember.


There should have been a yell or something; he should have announced his return with more than just an awkward splash of lake water.  But, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, black spots still popping and dancing in his vision, it was all Gary could do at first to tread water, to keep his head above the surface long enough to suck in air. 

Air that tasted of smog and diesel; air that smacked him in the face with a thousand unnatural scents and proclaimed, even before he spun himself around and saw the skyline, "Welcome to Chicago."

Welcome home. 

The pier was still many yards away; he was far enough out that he'd have to swim back.  But he didn't mind, not even when every muscle in his body protested that they'd already had plenty of work out time, thank you very much, and fully intended to take a vacation.  Not until he was home.  Well and truly...

The figures on the dock came into clearer focus as he stroked through the water.  There were the usual joggers and two more stationary forms--one of those caught sight of him and started jumping up and waving his arms.  Two men, one small and slight, the other built like a brick oven, and the voices so familiar.  He'd just heard them, sort of, but it couldn't be, especially not--

Don't think, swim.

He kicked the distance to their outstretched arms with the last of his strength; utterly spent, he could do little more than allow himself to be dragged out of the water.  He barely managed to put his feet in front of him so that they braced him against the cement wall of the pier and prevented further scrapes.  Hands struggled to set him upright, to keep their hold on his dripping jacket, while Gary blinked and shivered and swiped at the streaming water in his eyes, into the totally astonished faces of Zeke Crumb and--holy shit.

"Chuck?"  But how could Chuck be here?  Chuck was in Hollywood.  Gary's stomach clutched around a new fear--had he come back at the wrong time?

But Morgelyn had told him to trust the magic.

"Gar!"  Chuck had hold of both his elbows and was shaking him so hard his teeth rattled.  "Gar, where'd you come from?  Hell, like it matters.  You're alive!"

"I--yeah--" Gary managed weakly, still struggling for breath and solidity in the midst of his temporal displacement.  It wasn't made a whole lot easier when Chuck threw his arms around Gary's chest, squeezing so tight that Gary could feel the imprint of each individual jewel in the hilt of Fergus's dagger against his still-tender ribs.  "Chuck, c'mon--"  He could barely squeak it out. 

"You're alive, Gar!" Chuck repeated as he stepped back.  "Crumb, Gar's--uh-oh." 

Still blinking, Gary saw what Chuck meant.  Crumb stood frozen a few feet away, his face going grey.  "Crumb!"  Gary hoped he wouldn't need to remember CPR; things were still a little mixed up in his head.  "Hey, you okay?"

"Hobson?" 

Despite his fireplug build, Crumb swayed in a slight gust of wind, and Gary caught his arm to steady him.  "Whoa, don't go in there.  You know you can't swim."  That seemed to bring Crumb out of his shock.

"Hell, it's good to see you."  He pumped Gary's hand, clapped him on the shoulder, laughed and shook his head.  "We were sure you were a gonner, Hobson.  But she was right--"

"You did it?" Chuck asked, interrupting. 

Gary turned to stare at him.  "What?"  He was still trying to get used to everything; the city air, the familiar faces attached to the right clothes, the fact that he was hearing every word they spoke without any intervening filters...but something still wasn't right, things were still too...too disjointed or something.

"Whatever it was you had to do--the witch thing.  Hey, you're not carrying the plague, are you?"

"Nah, the plague ended a couple of years ago, and besides, we found the plant she needed to--"  Gary shook his head, goggling at Chuck.  "How did you know about that?"

"Well, Marissa said--wait a minute, a plant?"

"Marissa?"  Suddenly Gary knew why things weren't clicking into place.  He snapped his head from side to side.  "Where--"

"A plant?"

"Chuck, where is she?"  Gary grabbed his friend by the upper arms, but Chuck was still staring at him.

"All this was for a PLANT?"

"Crumb!"  Releasing Chuck, Gary looking desperately up and down the pier. 

"Bench."  Crumb pointed but Gary didn't need directions.  Slipping on the wet pavement in his hurry, he somehow managed to make his legs move, pushing them faster when he saw the solitary figure on the park walkway, huddled into a raincoat even though the sun was shining.  Gary's pace slowed as his mind kicked into high gear.

She hadn't been wearing a raincoat before...

Chuck had had time to get to Chicago...

Crumb looked as if he'd seen a--a ghost...

And Marissa was holding the Dragon's Eye, her face turned expectantly in his direction, but her eyes were red and puffy and though she lacked the bruises Morgelyn had had, she looked just as used up.

And all at once Gary was bereft of words, the full weight of what this must have meant to everyone here, now, crushing him with its force.

They'd thought he was a gonner, Crumb had said.  They'd thought he was dead.

But Marissa had it.  She had the Dragon's Eye, so somehow she'd known.

"Hey," he said softly when he was still a few yards off; he might as well have shouted her name in her ear without warning.  Marissa jumped; her mouth went round and she clutched the Dragon's Eye in tight, so tight, her lips moving, but no sound came out.

They both stood frozen like statues; Gary counted five heartbeats before he found his voice.  "Did you call?" he asked in no more than a whisper.  "Whoever has the Dragon's Eye can call for a dragon slayer.  Th--that's why I'm here."

"Here..."  Marissa repeated, still immobile.

"A knight in soggy armor at your service."  The joke was coming to him, but the humor, the volume, was not.  Gary took a step closer.  "Are you in trouble, Ma--m'lady?  Do you need any dragons slain?"

How a tentative smile could look like the sun, he couldn't have said.  But Marissa's warmed him right through every layer of sopping wet clothing.  "No dragons," she whispered.  One hand uncurled from its clutch on the crystal ball and stretched out in his direction.  "I just need--I just need my friend."

"I'm here."  He seized her hand and squeezed it tight.  "Right here."

"G--Gary?"  He knew it was really, finally, over, that he was well and truly home, when Marissa choked out his name on a sob.  "Oh my God, Gary..."

It didn't matter that this hug squeezed him within an inch of his life.  It felt good. 

"Thank you," he whispered over and over, in counterpoint to her repetition of his name.  "You got me home, thank you..."

"Not just me."  She pulled back a little so she could speak without being muffled by his jacket, and didn't even seem to notice that she'd dropped the Dragon's Eye onto the wet grass at their feet.  Somehow, it didn't surprise Gary at all that Cat was there to paw at it.  "It was all of us," Marissa told him.  "Chuck and Crumb--and Josh and Betsy and Kelyn and Aunt Gracie...and you.  You came home."  She reached up and touched his face, as if she wanted to be sure it was him.

"Course I did."

Her hand dropped down to his arm, and her nose crinkled up.  "You smell like the sea."

"It was a long trip."  There were footsteps behind him.  "I got you all wet," Gary noted ruefully. 

"It doesn't matter."  Marissa brushed water off her face that hadn't come from Lake Michigan.  "It doesn't matter, it worked, you're home."

"Yeah, home," Gary echoed when she wrapped her arms around him again and held on for dear life.  Chuck thumped him on the back, Crumb patted Marissa's shoulder, and Gary stopped the Dragon's Eye from rolling away by trapping it under his boot.  He grinned at Chuck over Marissa's head. 

"You guys mind if I stay a while?"




Chapter 85

With the dawning of this Love and the voice of this Calling
We shall not cease from our exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time.
          ~ T. S. Eliot


In the end, what saved Gary were three of the most powerful words in the English language.

"Witness Protection Program."

Everyone turned to stare at Crumb, who was sitting on the mission chair.  He'd barely spoken two words since they'd arrived at McGinty's, and now, after an overwrought reunion between Gary and his parents, after the hottest, longest shower Gary had taken in his entire life, after he'd told the Reader's Digest version of his story and his friends had told theirs, Crumb looked the least worn out, though no less spooked than anybody else. 

Gary frowned at him, leaning forward from his spot on the sofa where his parents had him squished in the middle of the Hobson sandwich.  His mom was holding his hand, like she was afraid that he'd get up and leave any minute.  "What do you mean?" Gary asked Crumb.

"How else are you gonna explain this?"  Crumb waved a hand at the Dragon's Eye and Fergus's little dagger, which sat together on Gary's coffee table.  "You were lucky that we could sneak you through the back door here a little while ago, but sooner or later people'll find out you aren't dead, and they'll want to know why.  Especially a police force that mounted a two-day water search and rescue.  You won't be able to pull your hocus-pocus song and dance with them."

Something about the way he said that made Gary wonder...actually, all of this was making Gary wonder.  Crumb, who always said he didn't want to know, seemed to be an accepted part of the team.

"But won't the reporters be able to check official records and stuff?" Chuck asked.  He was perched on the arm of the other chair.  "They'll know if we're lying."

Marissa was curled up in the same chair with Cat on her lap.  She sighed.  "I didn't even think about all the problems that would happen when you came back, Gary." 

At Gary's side, his mother bristled.  "You could have thought about how we--"

Gary nudged his mom with his elbow before she could go any further.  He knew she was pissed that no one had told her what was going on, but he understood what Marissa had been able to tell him of her reasons during the car ride back, and he was grateful that his friends had tried to spare his parents' feelings.  He wasn't going to let them catch fallout for it now.  He'd explain to his mom later.  More than once, probably.

"Chuck's right," Gary said quickly.  "It sounds like a good idea, but will people believe it?"

"I'll make 'em believe it," Crumb said.

"What about Sergeant Piovani, though?" Marissa asked, and Gary thought she looked downright nervous.  "She won't, not unless she has some kind of proof."

"Don't worry about it.  There are some official people who owe me very official favors." 

Crumb met Gary's eyes, and Gary knew, he just knew.  "You're talking about Marl--"  But his parents were there, and he could feel his dad's interest perk up.  "You saved the--you--"

"Ooo," his dad said, "Crumb, were you CIA?  Black ops?"

"Somethin' like that."  Crumb brushed it off with a wave of his hand.  "Anyways, I never did call in that marker.  Figures that when I do, it's because of you again.  So we'll make it official on the federal level, Fishman, that okay with you?"

"As long as I get the movie rights," Chuck said.  "Make it so Gar was involved in a museum heist.  You could be the next Indiana Jones, buddy."  He got up and strolled over to the kitchen.

"Witness Protection Program it is.  Thanks," Gary told Crumb, and Crumb nodded, just like...

Just like Father Ezekiel when Gary'd told him to take care of everyone.  Had he?  Gary leaned back with a sigh and closed his eyes.  He let the comfortable buzz of familiar voices float around him.  His dad got up and joined Chuck at the fridge; Gary could hear the spray of beer bottles opening. 

"Gar, you want one?" 

Without opening his eyes, Gary stuck out a hand.  A couple seconds later a glass bottle, blissfully cold, was placed in it. 

"Throw a midget and a Maypole into that story of yours," Chuck said, "and you'd have a Men Without Hats video.  Too bad nobody'll ever believe the truth." 

Gary didn't even open his eyes when he took a pull of the beer.  It was cold.  It fizzed.  It was heaven.

"You want one, Crumb?" asked Chuck.

"Think I need more than a beer," Crumb muttered.  "A priest.  Yeah, right." 

"Father Zeke," Chuck said cheerfully.  "I would have paid good money to see you in a dress, Crumb.  How 'bout you, Gar?  You dazzle all the babes in your tights?"

Gary opened one eye and glared at his friend.  "No, but you did."

Crumb joined the general laughter as he pushed himself up out of the chair.  "Well, I think at least a double is in order.  Anybody else want anything from downstairs?"

"Food."  Gary rubbed his stubble-free face.  "We got anything fried around here?  Anything American?" 

"I can arrange that," his mom said, and squeezed his hand one more time before she finally released it and stood.  She looked down at him with a strange light in her eyes.  "When I think that a couple of hours ago I was sure I'd never cook for you again..."

"I know, Mom.  I'm sorry--" he started.

"You don't need to be."  He didn't miss the way she emphasized 'you', or the look she shot Marissa.  And Gary knew that the fact that Marissa flinched meant she knew exactly what was going on, even though she couldn't see it.  But then his mom turned back to Gary and saw the set of his jaw.  Her slight scowl melted.  "Nobody needs to be.  Oh, I'm just so glad my boy is home..."

"Aw, Mom, don't cry."  Gary got up and gave her another hug.  "She tried to tell you.  Cut her some slack, okay?" he whispered into her ear.  She nodded, and went downstairs with Crumb. 

"Maybe we should print out leaflets," Chuck was telling Bernie.  "You know, so Gar doesn't have to tell the cover story over and over again.  You know how he is; thinks his nose is gonna grow if he has to fudge the truth a little bit.  There'll be plenty of people at that--that thing tomorrow night."

"Party," Gary's dad said, and his voice boomed through the loft.  "Definitely a celebration.  All the same people are still invited, it'll just be a lot more festive than we planned."

Gary sighed and plopped back down on the couch, at the end closest to Marissa.  She was stroking Cat's back methodically, and the tabby had its eyes half-closed in blissful appreciation.  "What is this party thing they've got going?" he asked.

Marissa just shrugged, then, after a moment's silence, said, "She's your mother, Gary.  And I can stand up for myself.  This isn't a witch hunt."

"I know.  I know.  It's just--"  He laced his fingers and rubbed one thumb across the other palm.  "You look so much like--she looked so much like you.  And so much went wrong for them, so fast, it's hard to believe it won't happen again.  It's..."

"Hard to let go?"

"Yeah."

Marissa's hand went still on Cat's back.  "Does she know?" she asked.  "Does Morgelyn know you're okay, that you're safe?"

Gary reached over to the coffee table and picked up the Dragon's Eye.  Colors and lights flared and danced for a little bit, then faded off with a sigh that he only heard with his inner ear.  "Guess it still had a little bit of magic left in it," he said.  "Yeah, Marissa, I think she knows."

Some of the tension went out of her shoulders.  "I'm sure they're all right.  That they were all right..."  She trailed off, a frown on her face. 

Gary knew how she felt.  He was still having trouble with the verb tenses, with not seeing double every time he looked at Marissa, Chuck, and Crumb--with all of it.  "I guess I'll never know for sure." 

"We do know something.  While you were in the shower earlier, I called Josh Gardner--the archeologist I told you about.  He and his friend have Kelyn's--Morgelyn's book," she corrected herself.  "And Gary, they said there's no story in there about a witch hunt anymore.  There's just the plant lore and the dragon's tale."

"Great," Gary settled back in with a grunt; his various aches and bruises were still making their presence known.  "Two more people I'll have to explain this to.  A couple of scientists--what am I going to tell them?  They'll never believe the truth." 

"People can surprise you, Gary." 

"They usually do."  Speaking of which..."Crumb--does he--he knows about the paper, doesn't he?  Did you have to tell him to get him to help you out?"

She shook her head, and a wry smile appeared on her face.  "Apparently he's known about it for a while.  He'll keep your secret, Gary.  Possibly even from you, if you know what I mean." 

"Yeah."  Crumb was less of a mystery to him now because of Father Ezekiel; maybe it was only fair that it went both ways. 

"Anyway," Marissa went on, shifting and putting her feet on the floor, "I had Josh check something else.  There still is a village called Gwenyllan in Cornwall.  It's very small and isolated, but it's there.  During the Renaissance it had some kind of a hospital that was famous for its miracle cures.  There were waves of the plague that swept through England in Shakespeare's time, but no one in that village was ever affected by it."

"Shakespeare's time.  Great."  His voice was as flat as Gary felt.  He'd used up every ounce of himself in the past couple of days, and it was going to take a while to recharge.  "What about Morgelyn's time, and Fergus's?"

"I think you can assume things turned out all right for them, if that much is true.  Gary, you can't know," Marissa said when he didn't answer.  "You just have to trust that it's okay."  Cat meowed in agreement.

Gary let out a breath that had been tucked away ever since he'd walked into the river, a couple of hours, a half dozen centuries, earlier.  "I hope so."

"You did a good thing, Gary.  A great thing."

"I had a lot of help."  Gary reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out the pin Morgelyn had given him.  "Hold out your hand."

"What's this?" Marissa asked when he placed the pin on her palm.  She started exploring it with her fingers, a tiny frown of concentration creasing her forehead.

"It's a cloak pin.  For you--Morgelyn sent it.  Kind of a thank you."

Marissa closed her fingers over it and smiled--then blinked back tears.  "I'm very glad you're back, Gary.  It was so hard..."

"You, uh--you gonna cry again, too?"

She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.  "You're going to tell me I can't?"

"I wouldn't dare."  He found the tissues on the end table where his mom had left them, and handed the whole box to her.  In the silence that followed, he caught the tail end of what his dad was telling Chuck.  "A Dixieland band?" Gary asked Marissa.  "Here at McGinty's?"

Marissa shook her head.  "Don't ask."


Crumb's favor-dealing did, indeed, work wonders.  A little behind-the-scenes paperwork, and voilá, Gary had been living incognito in Detroit for the past few days.  It worked on everyone except a few people that he either wouldn't or couldn't lie to.  But the rest bought it--Patrick, the people who worked at the bar, the press, even the Chicago police sergeant who wanted to grill Gary like a well-done bratwurst. 

The search and rescue had all been a misunderstanding, Crumb helped Gary to explain when he was called into the station house the next day.  Those in charge of the investigation had to justify the expense and man power of the search they'd made, and Sergeant Piovani said that she wanted to see Gary's walking, talking carcass in the flesh.  It took every ounce of will that Gary possessed not to squirm as he told her the story Crumb had put together: because he had been told by the FBI not to let on, even to his friends and family, where he was going, he'd had to skip town.  Right in the middle of his conversation with Marissa.  On the pier.  He'd thrown the Dr--the crystal ball into the water because some antiquities thieves were after it, hot on his trail.  But now it was safe.  In a safe.  Somewhere.  Gary couldn't tell her where.  Didn't want to jeopardize international relations.

It took two rounds of those answers, and a letter on cream-colored stationery with the FBI seal at the top.  When Piovani let him leave, Gary made a fervent wish that the paper would keep him out of her jurisdiction for a long, long time.  Like forever.

The party was a raucous success, but it was all kind of a blur to Gary, except for huddled conferences with Marissa, Chuck, Crumb, and Aunt Gracie.  It wasn't easy; Patrick kept interrupting them to slap Gary on the back and offer potato skins.  With Marissa's urging, Gary talked to Kelyn Gillespie--who'd been nearly as effusive in her welcome as Patrick--and the archaeologists from the University of Chicago.  Betsy Cooper seemed more interested in how he'd been able to understand Medieval languages than in what had actually happened--but Gary had the feeling that was because she wasn't entirely comfortable with the story he was telling.  Josh Gardner grinned from ear to ear and said something about changing the topic of his doctoral thesis committee to folk beliefs and herbal lore.  Gary was just relieved when Aunt Gracie saved him by asking him for a dance. 

And eventually, in a couple of weeks, things got back to some kind of normal.

Eventually his parents tired of trailing him everywhere he went and found a reason to go back to Hickory--something about the garden club and a curling tournament--but they still called him every night.  Eventually Crumb stopped offering to go with Gary every time the paper sent him out into the city.  Eventually Marissa quit finding excuses to touch his hand or his arm every time he walked in a room, as if she had to reassure herself that he was real.  Eventually Patrick worked up the nerve to ask Kelyn out on a date.  And eventually, of course, Chuck had to go back to Hollywood, but not before he'd promised to come back for a Bears game.

That sort of normal was fine with Gary, who hung Fergus's dagger on the wall next to his snowshoes and put the Dragon's Eye on his bookshelf.  But everything that had happened to him left a strange aftertaste, and even "eventually" didn't take care of the niggling fears that kept creeping up on him at night, in his dreams.  The brick walls of his loft dissolved into grey stone, harsh voices shouted commands and insults and malice, and his friends called out for help, but he wasn't sure, in his dreams, which friends, or how to help them.  Sometimes he wondered if Morgelyn's plea to remember them had turned into a curse. 

He usually didn't go back to sleep after those nightmares.  He would get up and page through the book Kelyn had given him, familiar if older than the one he'd seen in Cornwall.  Nothing in it ever changed.  That was the problem.  He wanted to know that everything had turned out all right for them--but he'd left because he'd been sure it would.

But somehow, nothing that he could find there in Chicago was enough.  He even spent some time at the library, but the history books were all about kings and queens and nobility--Nessa's kind of people.  Nobody seemed to know much about the other kinds of people, the everyday people who did extraordinary things. 

Like live long, healthy, happy lives.

Weeks later, right near Halloween, another nightmare came calling.  Gary had to check every nook and cranny of his loft before he was sure there hadn't really been a fire; that the smoky scent that still lingered in his nostrils wasn't real, and that Morgelyn hadn't been calling to him from somewhere down in the alley. 

His alarm clock glowed red in the darkness.  Five fifteen.  He still had a good hour of sleep left, if only he could get it.  Resolute, he forced himself to lie back on the pillows--real pillows, he reminded himself, and tried to lull himself back to sleep by counting his blessings.  Straw-free mattress and box spring.  Sheets that didn't scratch; soft comforter and sweats.  Water in the tap, the toilet inside the loft.  Food in the refrigerator and a microwave to heat it.  Coffee for breakfast, and bacon and eggs and--

"Meow!"

Five twenty-four.  No way. 

"Meow!"

"Whatever you're selling, I don't want any!"

"MeOW!!"

"It's not even five thirty," Gary groused, but he threw off the covers and stalked to the door, knowing that between his dreams and Cat he was doomed anyway.

But what he found in his morning paper wasn't the usual forewarning of disaster.  In fact, there weren't any disasters at all.  What was more important was what was with the paper.  "Names on the tickets and everything," he mumbled at Cat, who ignored him in favor of the water bowl.  Gary scratched the back of his neck.  "How'd you manage--ah, never mind."

Thirty seconds later, he was on the phone.  "Marissa?" he asked in response to her sleepy, "Hello?"

"No, no, it's okay, nothing's--Marissa, really, I'm okay.  Nothing in the paper--well, not exactly.  Look, you have a passport, right?"

He checked the time on the tickets against his watch; tapped the detailed map of southwestern England against the counter.

"How fast can you pack a bag?"





Chapter 86

Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of morn.
          ~ W. B. Yeats


On the southwest end of the Cornish peninsula, the stones crumbled in the course of centuries, through the drifts of spring flowers and wood smoke, in the cold winter fogs and warm summer hazes and the brace of salt air.  The past decayed into the future and rotted and lived anew.  The trees whispered secrets older than lifetimes, but even the trees did not outlive the stones, and even the stones would not outlive the blur of flowers, bees, and dragonflies that seemed to come quicker with every passing year.

The caretaker had seen it happen over and over in the plot behind the stone church.  It was his job to tend the pulse of a land of the dead, the flowers and grass that pushed up every year through the soil.  All but those in the corner farthest from the church; those came and went without a by-your-leave from Jim, and he knew better than to try to tame them.  He had, however, learnt their names over the years: lavender and columbine and crocus and hearts-ease--and dragon's wort, always the dragon's wort.  Once a botanist from Cambridge tried to tell him it was properly called bistort, but dragon's wort it had been to Jim's father and his grandfather before him, and dragon's wort it was to Jim.  They had always lived here, his family; there had been brief detours to fight wars and find wives and husbands, but they always came back to Gwenyllan.  The village was tiny, but it was home.

And such a home.  Just teeming with stories for those who had ears to hear and eyes to see.  Jim thought he knew all of them, the way he knew the flowers and the graves.

One bright fall morning when the leaves were falling like feathers after a pillow fight, he heard a plaintive mewing at the cemetery entrance.  Jim waved the stray tabby through the open gate.  "Welcome, little stranger, welcome."  A cat in a cemetery was always good luck.  Or maybe it was a cat on the hearth.  Certainly there was something about cats and luck...

No matter.  Jim went back to work, raking up the last of the browning oak leaves, and the cat explored the smouldering grey stones.  Jim was clearing off Margery Elders's grave when a car he didn't recognize pulled up and parked in the roundabout down in the town centre.  It was a rental car, and as soon as he caught sight of the couple who emerged, Jim knew he'd never laid eyes on them.  The man was tall and dark-haired, and he wore a leather jacket much like the one Jim had in his RAF days. 

American, Jim decided.  He could always tell.

The woman's skin was the color of milk chocolate, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail under a beret, her coat long and blue.  The man had a bunch of white roses, the woman had a white cane, and she held his elbow and let him lead her forward.  Their lighthearted voices drifted Jim's way as they came up the hill; the woman laughed as the man described the antics of Hairy Pete and Daft Roger, the town's stray dogs, who were on their morning squirrel hunt.  The man pointed at the dogs, but the woman's head never turned to follow his gestures.

Jim was about to go meet them at the gate and tell them that the vicar was out of town--he supposed they must have been friends of the vicar, as he did tend to keep unusual company--but the rustling of leaves and the yowling of the cat drew his attention instead.  By the time he'd untangled the tabby from the ropes of flowers that crazy old Sarah Tempest had left on her sister's headstone the day before, the visitors had passed both the vicarage and the church and entered the cemetery.  They didn't seem to notice Jim; their voices had softened, the laughter finished but still lingering in the air behind them.  And--this was what Jim found strange--the man knew exactly where he was going.  Deftly leading his companion across the uneven ground, where neat rows of headstones gave way to more haphazard monuments in the older part of the cemetery, he stopped only when they reached the far corner.  They stood at the timeworn stone with its Celtic carvings, ankle deep in the bright, profuse, indefatigable carpet of flowers that covered that patch of ground from March, long before the other flowers blossomed, through October, long after the others were gone.

The pair was silent for a long, long time, and when they spoke again, the woman initiated the conversation, rubbing the man's arm as if to comfort him; as if--and this was the part that gave Jim goosebumps--as if he could be grieving for someone who'd died in the age of plagues and knights and pirates.  How did a couple of Yanks even know about Gwenyllan's little fairy tale churchyard?  The woman buried where they stood was someone they never could have met.  From the stories Jim had heard about her, she was more likely to be an ancestor of his black friend than of the man himself.  Jim made his way toward them, pretending to rake, but making as little noise as he could.

"...nothing there in writing.  I thought it would tell how old she was," the man was saying.  "There's not even a name.  But it--"  He looked toward the church, as if gauging the distance, then to the forest.  "It has to be hers.  I'm pretty sure that this is where her grandmother was buried, and..."  He trailed off, not even noticing the fact that Jim, fifty feet away, was staring unabashedly.  He looked from the bouquet of store-bought roses in their crinkly plastic wrapping to the wildflowers at his feet.  "There're more flowers growing here than they had in that shop at the airport.  It looks like June."

"Smells like it, too," the woman said, and smiled.  "What a perfect memorial."

"Guess she doesn't need these."  Shrugging, the man laid the roses on the next stone over instead, the one carved in the shape of a harp. 

"What about this?"  The woman, her expression serious now, undid the silver pin on her coat lapel and held it out to her friend, her head tilted in a question.  But no, the man shook his head and folded her fingers back over the pin.

"She wanted you to have it--I think she wanted something of hers to live on." 

Jim frowned at that.  Whoever "she" was, she couldn't have been anyone Jim knew.  No one had visited that grave, except to pick flowers from it, for as long as he could remember. 

The man took a long last look; picked a sprig of the pink dragon's wort and twirled it between his fingers.  The woman reached out and found his hand; squeezed it in a gesture of easy friendship.  And in that moment, the man looked up and saw Jim.

He whispered something to his friend, and they walked up to Jim.  "Hello--" the man began, but they all jumped at the insistent "meow" of the cat behind them.  A wide, slow smile spread across the woman's face; with a frown of pure consternation, the man shook his head.  The tabby ambled over to the flowers and nibbled on some catnip.

"You work here?" the man asked, and when Jim nodded, he said, "I bet you know a lot about this place."

Jim snorted, "'Course I do."  He cast a glance at the village below, knowing that the man meant more than just the cemetery.  Then he nodded in the direction the cat had gone.  "Could tell you stories about that grave and who's in it, I could."

At that, the man grinned, so thoroughly boyish that Jim knew he was right, would have known even without the accent.  American.  "So could I."

Jim almost asked them if they had visited before, but that was mad.  He would have known about it if they had. 

The woman turned her smile straight at him.  "Do you like living here?"

Jim cocked his head.  It wasn't the kind of question Americans usually asked.  But then, that grave wasn't the kind of thing Americans ever noticed.  Most of them barely noticed Gwenyllan at all.

"It seems a quiet life, Miss, but there's all kinds of things as go on right below the surface, for those that have eyes to see.  Begging your pardon, of course."

She laughed, and Jim figured that was leave to ask a question of his own.  "How did you find us?"

Nodding toward her companion, she said, "Oh, Gary is a bit of an historian."

"Amateur," the man said quickly, and added under his breath, "Not going pro anytime soon."

"Well, if you'd like to know more, come up to the pub later, and you'll see what I mean.  Plenty of stories get told there, they do."  He pointed toward the Kettle and Keg.  "That there sign says it all--'Fair welcome to strangers.'  We're famous for it.  As famous as anything gets in these parts," he added with a wink.

"To strangers," the man echoed, and he rolled his eyes when the woman laughed again.  But this was a private joke, and they didn't let Jim in on it.  "I think we'd like that."  He pointed with two fingers at the stone bridge over the river, and the footpath beyond. 

"Does that still lead all the way to the ocean?" he asked.

"Why, yes, it does but--begging your pardon, sir, but how do you know that?  You've not been here before, have you?"

The man shook his head.  "Not for a long time."  He glanced back down at the village centre as he started for the gate.  "Not since they took out the well."

There hadn't been a well in Gwenyllan in Jim's entire life.  Not in his father's, either.  Dumbfounded, the caretaker stared as the pair walked away.  The cat trailed them along the path that wound by the river and down to the ocean cliffs.  The man's free hand wove the story he was telling his friend, and their laughter drifted back to Jim as they disappeared into the forest on the other side of the bridge.


FINIS




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