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So old One-Eye is taking a hand in this as well, eh? Well, my boy is a hero, right enough, and he a collector of such. But he?s not yours yet, Terrible One!
Nor was she surprised to read of the encounters with the Seekers sent from Corwin. Juniper already knew of the Prophet?s reckless abuse of the hidden Powers.
Although, knowing, my skin crawls, that it does. Fools! To meddle so with such things! The Threefold Return will be upon them soon or late with a weight like falling mountains… but how many will be caught in their web of malevolence first?
The other was a son?s to his mother, and it was rambling and warm, and interspersed with tales that brought a smile to her lips, and sketches of places and people done by his anamchara, Mathilda, and his half sisters-Rudi could draw a map that looked like a professional?s, but that was the limit of his draughtsmanship.
So that?s this Abbot Dorje, she thought.
An ageless face, wrinkled and grave, but somehow with a boy?s merriment in the eyes, and a finger raised in half-serious admonishment at the unseen artist. ?I?d like to meet him, sure an? I would,? she said aloud.
Her mother?s West-Irish Gaeltacht lilt was strong in her voice. She?d long since given it full rein; if her folk were determined to imitate it at least they should have a real model from Achill Island rather than the older generation?s vague memories of Hollywood?s idea of how an Irishman sounded. Though to the youngsters, what had started as half a jest among their parents or grandparents was simply the way they spoke. ?And he thinks well of Rudi, which is a mark in his favor.? ?So does this Master Hao,? Nigel said.
That sketch was of a face ageless in a different way, hard and square atop a sinewy neck.?Hmmm. That girl does have a talent for the pencil. There?s a man of his hands, and no mistake, as Sam would say.?
Then with a little wonder, and a finger stroking meditatively across the white of his neat mustache: ?Who?d have thought that a Buddhist monastery would end up ruling a lost valley in the wilds of Wyoming? Even if they were having a conference in a hotel there when the Change struck.?
Juniper gri
She shrugged helplessly.?In any case, stranger things have happened.? ?You converting me, for example,? Nigel pointed out.
She snorted.?You?re as polite to the Lord and Lady as you were to the Church of England-and not one bit more!?
He smiled and spread hands a little spotted with age.?Whatever you say, my dear.? ?And it was whatever you say, Padre, to the parson, too, eh?? ?Whatever you say, my dear,? he replied.?But I assure you my courtesy to the regimental chaplain did not extend quite so far as it does with you.?
They both chuckled. Then her face grew grave again. ?It?s the longest we?ve ever been apart, my boy and I,? Juniper Mackenzie said.?Rudi left April sixteenth of last year. Sixteen months almost to the day.? ?And now we know where he?s been, old girl,? Sir Nigel Loring said, putting his hand over hers. ?And that he was wounded near to death! And the arrows were cursed, from the description.? ?Infected, at least. And we know that he?s recovered and well,? he went on relentlessly.
She turned her hand and they linked fingers. The midday meal was just cleared away, and the two of them were sitting on the dais at the head of the long trestles while those on kitchen duty cleared away the last of it and took up the tables themselves. A lingering smell of it-cold minced mutton pie, salads, steamed cauliflower, cheese and breads and biscuits-remained, and the acrid scent of her rosehip tea. From the outside came the clatter of looms, the rising-falling hum of spi
Though they were at war still the land must be tilled, meals cooked, animals cared for, and tools made.
And weapons, she sighed to herself, remembering Rudi dancing with the blade on the practice field, terrible and beautiful as Lugh come again in splendor and in wrath. To be sure. That we can?t avoid.
Afternoon sunlight poured in through the windows along the verandah, shafts of it picking out the bright painted carving that ran riot over the smoothed log walls of the Great Hall?s interior, vines and leaves and faces from myth and story; the signs of the Quarters were higher, under the rafters nearly fifteen feet above.
The altar over the hearth on the northern wall held her household?s images of the Lord and Lady as Brigid with her flame and sheaf, and Lugh with his spear and sun disk; Nigel had made those himself when he was courting her, back during the Protector?s War. When he was fresh from England he?d surprised her by how handy he was at all a countryman?s tasks and trades, not just the deadly skills he?d mastered in the SAS and the Blues and Royals and after the Change.
Now she looked into the blue eyes in the weathered face that loved hers line for line, and smiled back. ?I?ll grant that it?s a mercy to learn my son has been wounded after he?s recovered. This Chenrezi place seems a good one to heal, and to learn.?
Her mouth quirked in a smile as she looked at that letter. It was signed Rimpoche Tsewang Dorje, and she murmured some of it aloud: ?I have spoken often with your son in these months of winter, Juniper Lady, and found in him much strength of mind and body, some wisdom and astonishingly little vanity. We have become friends, he and
I.?
?Now that is perceptive,? Sir Nigel murmured.?I wouldn?t have thought Rudi an easy man to get to know, below the surface.?
Juniper nodded at him.?Especially perceptive for one of our age, my love. For the Changelings are different from us, do you see.? ?I see it every day, rather!?
She shook her head.?Different in a certain way, Nigel. They… see the world through different eyes. They think differently from us; I love them, but it took me long and long to understand them. To them, what they are here?-she touched her forehead-?is less likely to conflict with what they are here.? She touched the back of her skull and went on:?Rudi is a hero. The terrible strength of him and the only weakness of it is that he never doubts it. Regrets it, a little, sometimes; but he is the role the Gods have thrust upon him.?
He nodded slowly.?The Changelings are all a little less prone to self-examination than we were,? he acknowledged.?Well, than most of us were. They accept things. I?m more inclined to that than… oh, Sam Aylward.? ?Ah, and it wasn?t only for your looks I married you! Yes, for long and long before the Change people spent more and more of their time examining themselves.? ? Pride and Prejudice,? he said.?Odd that Rudi never liked Austen.? ?Yes, he said the people in them are well painted but had far too much time on their hands!? She spread her own hands in a gesture of agreement and resignation.?But he loves the old stories. As do I, but in a different way. He is those men. And this I think Abbot Dorje grasps, if not in exactly those words.?