When Pasgen was assured that the rout of half-crazed fauns and nymphs had separated Elizabeth and Denoriel and the mortal slaves he had hired had caught her and started toward the reawakened Orbis Gate, he began the transits that would take him home. After all, what could possibly go wrong at this stage? Confidently, on arriving, he passed through the interior Gates into the escape-proof holding chamber he maintained.
It was empty.
For one long moment he just stared at the place where Elizabeth should have been, as if by staring, he would make her appear out of nothing.
Then he got hold of himself. Quickly Pasgen estimated the time it had taken him to arrive at home and compared it to the time his amulet should have opened the Orbis Gate and flicked Elizabeth and the two men into his holding chamber. Then he shook his head and laughed at himself. The imp had told him when they turned into the alley. Likely by then the girl had recovered her wits and at that moment, she began to give the men trouble.
Trouble—
Suddenly he remembered the burst of power that had destroyed his Gate and could have flung him into the void the last time he had tried to abduct the girl. Fury should have burned in him; instead he felt a reluctant admiration.
And after all, he had planned for this. The men he had hired were mortals. They would not be affected if she unleashed some wild mortal magic, and if she loosed that kind of power, Goblin Fair would react. If she were Removed, in the sense that the Fair Removed things, that would end the problem and no shadow would fall on him or on the Unseleighe.
In a way, that would be even better than abduction. No one would know but Vidal and Rhoslyn that he had been the reason the child loosed her magic. He would not even have to justify his actions to Rhoslyn. He could say with truth that Removal was not what he intended; that he had only wanted to bring her into Unseleighe hands. And he could not possibly have known that she would lash out with magic within the confines of the Fair. For that matter, the signs were there for all to see, and surely if Denoriel had given her the ability to use her magic, and had not driven the warning home, well, that was not his fault. It was Denoriel who had taken her Underhill in the first place, and Denoriel who should bear the blame for whatever happened.
Pasgen should have felt relieved and satisfied, but a flicker of regret touched him. That child was so strong, so vital—and she would make untold trouble for the Unseleighe if she did come to rule.
Did he care about trouble for the Unseleighe? Pasgen looked around the empty holding chamber. Even if Elizabeth resisted, they should have arrived by now.
He was uneasy, and he grew more and more uneasy as the moments passed. Moments into minutes, minutes into a quarter and then a half hour. Pasgen stood staring into nothing. Removed? Or had something else entirely gone wrong?
For some reason Pasgen felt cold. Finally he set an alarm to tell him if something arrived in his holding chamber and Gated into the main body of his house. He ate a meal, but the alarm did not summon him. With a very strange light in his eyes, Pasgen left his house and made his way back to the Goblin Fair.
From the mouth of the alley, he followed Elizabeth's aura—it was very strong for a human—to the Gate. Around the Gate he sensed Denoriel and two other Sidhe; their auras flickered with violent emotion. The Gate was dead. Deader than it had been when he first sensed it and decided to use it. Delicately Pasgen probed. The Gate had been shut down a-purpose, but by a purely Sidhe negation of its working. The Fair itself had had no part in killing the Gate. He raised his brows. It still retained some power.
And it had been shut down from this side.
Pasgen had a way with Gates. He worked around the cancellation spells that had shut it down and even discovered where it had carried Elizabeth and her abductors.
Which was not where it had been supposed to go. Now, this was more than interesting, it was fascinating.
His eyes alight with interest and curiosity, Pasgen made the same transit. The corpse of one of the men he had hired lay right beside the Gate. Pasgen repelled the roiling mist and saw the corpse of the second not far away.
As he stood there, frowning, puzzled by what could have happened—how could one little mortal girl have done this to two grown men—a furious roar echoed, from nearby.
Much too close, in fact. Pasgen's head shot up, and his eyes widened as a second roar came from much nearer at hand. Then he stifled a gasp as a lion's forequarters and head seemingly materialized out of the mist. He did not wait to see more of the beast, and when he closed the Gate down, he made sure it was not going to be reopened by accident. Then he stood still for a moment, waiting until his racing heart slowed, willing himself to look and seem calm when he walked back into the tenanted parts of the Fair.
When he strode back into the main aisles of the Goblin Fair, Pasgen went to the players' area and stopped at several eating houses. The expenditure of power to do magic made one hungry; and surely one small child would not have anywhere near the physical resources of an adult mage. It was not at all difficult to discover the place where Elizabeth and her companions had eaten. He sat down at the same table and extended his senses—all of them.
Happy. They had all been so happy.
He ordered wine. It was good wine, but sour in his mouth. He put down the goblet, but before he could rise to leave the place, a goblin was standing before him. He had a bright-eyed kitten perched on his shoulder—a kitten with wings. The goblin laid several amulets on the table.
"She made the kitten, but was willing to trade it to me," the goblin said. "When it came to me I became changed. I am learning to duplicate and preserve it. It will be of great value to my people."
Pasgen shrugged and pushed the amulets back toward the goblin. "I am glad you benefited. There is no rule against that."
The goblin shook its head. "I told her protector that the men had taken her to the Orbis Gate, so I am giving back your payment for delaying her so that she would be caught in the rout of fauns and nymphs and could be abducted." The creature's face wrinkled with thought, and it said slowly, "However, it was not the protector who saved her. She and the men went through the Gate. Only she returned. Perhaps I will keep two of the amulets. Is that fair?"
"Fair?" Pasgen looked at the kitten, which had folded its wings and draped itself around the goblin's neck, then returned his gaze to the goblin's face, now feeling sorely puzzled. "When did your kind worry about fair?"
Stroking the kitten, the goblin said, "You evidently mistook me for something else." And he took out his little rod and disappeared.
Pasgen pocketed the remaining amulet, wondering why the goblin was allowed to use the rod for transport within the Fair. Everyone else used his own two or four or any number of feet. Then he remembered that he had never seen the goblin move . . . well, change place; it had moved its arms to lay down the amulets and to stroke the kitten. Perhaps it could not move except by the power of that rod, and if the Fair permitted that, the power, Pasgen thought, was not magic—at least not any magic he knew. And why in Dannae's name was he thinking about that meaningless goblin?
Because he did not want to think about Elizabeth. Pasgen sighed. He was going to have to order his thoughts and sort through his emotions. Being puzzled by the child was interesting, but the happenings of this day were going beyond puzzlement to irritation. That mortal child . . .
Pasgen got a grip on his jangled emotions, sorted them, and finally was able to look at the situation with some objectivity.
Elizabeth was gone.
A serving girl had overheard the group with the child say they were returning to Llachar Lle. She was safe from him there, and safe in the mortal world too. He did not know for certain, but he could not imagine his half-brother being so careless as to leave her unprotected after this incident. She would be shielded now against any attempt to invade her mind, and probably able to shield her body too.
Pasgen lifted his wine and sipped. He would have to go to Rhoslyn and tell her that Elizabeth had escaped once more.
Oddly, now that he was calm again, he found that he did not mind at all—and he did not think that Rhoslyn would mind either. He thought of the lion and the two dead men and smiled. England would be an interesting place when Elizabeth came to rule.
And she would, he thought. In fact, she should. The FarSeers had seen it, and perhaps the Vision was more than a possibility. Could it be that events were taking on their own momentum, impelling the present toward all three specific futures shown? If so, Vidal would not be able to stop her . . . and he, Pasgen lifted his head and took a deep breath—he was through trying.
He sipped the wine again. It was good wine, he thought.
For Elizabeth life slipped back into a comfortable pattern. Lord Denno came almost every day. Most days he came openly and rode out with her. Other times he met her in the park in secret. On those days, they stayed hidden in what cover they could find and Elizabeth practiced tanglefoot and stickfoot on innocent passersby. Once or twice she did gwthio or cilgwthio but that was dangerous. Anyone could trip or find a foot caught in something and think nothing of it. To be pushed violently or held in place against an attempt to move forward was too unnatural.
Her more ordinary, mortal lessons were pleasant too, her knowledge of Italian improving apace. William Grindal was a good tutor. Elizabeth missed Cheke's brilliance and Ascham's appreciation of her increasingly lovely penmanship, but Grindal's interest in history also included current events. Thus, Elizabeth knew that her father had sailed for France on the fourteenth of July and had arrived safely to supervise the siege of Boulogne.
Grindal was kept abreast of the doings of the court by Ascham, who had been Grindal's teacher and had got him the position as Elizabeth's tutor. Grindal told Elizabeth that Queen Catherine had been made regent in Henry's absence. Elizabeth was thrilled. No queen consort had been so honored since the days of Catherine of Aragon; it betokened Henry's trust in his wife and salved much of Elizabeth's fear that her father would rid himself of this wife too. With that dark shadow lightened, Elizabeth began to feel impatient of peace and crave the excitement of court life.
On the last day of July, Elizabeth wrote to the queen in Italian, both to show off her new skill and so that no casual glance would expose what she was really requesting:
" . . . I have not dared write to him [the King's Majesty]. Wherefore I humbly pray your most Excellent Highness, that, when you write to His Majesty, you will condescend to recommend me to him, praying ever for his sweet benediction, and similarly entreating our Lord God to send him best success, and the obtaining of victory over his enemies, so that Your Highness and I may, as soon as possible, rejoice together with him on his happy return."
It was the nearest she dared come to a plea to be allowed to return. She did not utter that plea in vain. The queen, with no children of her own, and especially no daughter, was starved for childish affection—Mary was hardly a substitute for Elizabeth, who shared Catherine's intellectual curiosity and love of learning, and who was still young enough to want a guide.
Catherine Parr's recommendations were apparently of such good effect, that by August Elizabeth rejoined the rest of the children—there were now a flock of young maidens to give her countenance, too—and by the eighth of September Henry wrote to his wife, that he sent his hearty blessings to all his children. Elizabeth was no longer in disgrace.
Although she did not know it at the time, Elizabeth had never been in serious disgrace. She had been punished for indiscretion, the simple folly of wandering in a dark garden when she should have been abed, but no more than that. However, to her distress, Mary had hardly greeted her. Nonetheless, it was through Mary that she learned, quite by accident, that her father had never intended to do more than slap her wrist.
In the heat of the afternoon, Elizabeth with Lady Alana, Kat Champernowne, Lady Jane Grey, Ann Parr (the queen's younger sister), and two of the four daughters of Anthony Cooke had walked out into the palace gardens. Elizabeth carried with her the book cover that she was embroidering to enclose her New Year's gift for the queen. She sat down to work on it on a bench in the shade of a hedge. Lady Alana kept her company while Kat went with the other girls to look at the little pond in the center of the garden.
Elizabeth had hardly set ten stitches in the hearts-ease flowers when she stiffened and looked over her shoulder at the dense hedge behind her. "Someone . . . someone like you is coming," she whispered to Lady Alana, and then more faintly, "With my sister, Mary. Should we join the others?"
But Aleneil had also sensed Rhoslyn and heard the soft murmur of Mary's voice, and she laid a hand over Elizabeth's and murmured, "Shield."
A sigh eased out of Elizabeth as she cast her shield. She was always forgetting she had that protection. Relieved of fear, she listened. Her ears were very keen—sometimes to her sorrow—because she heard Mary say that she did not know what to do. She had tried to protest to the queen about Elizabeth's recall to court, to explain that the king would be angry.
"And she told me," Mary's voice rose just a little so that it was very clear, "that my father did not really believe any ill of Elizabeth. And to assure me of that, she told me of the bequeathing of the crown as delineated in the will he had written just before he sailed for France."
"He named Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth stiffened again, this time with surprise. The woman with Mary, who Elizabeth was sure was Sidhe, sounded not only surprised but pleased. Elizabeth's breath eased out. Then this Sidhe—it must be Mistress Rosamund Scot; Elizabeth had never seen another Sidhe in Mary's company—was no enemy to her. It was odd that neither Denno nor Alana talked much about her except for a mild warning, but the Sidhe was attached to Mary and possibly Elizabeth was not supposed to know her.
"By name!" Mary said bitterly, her voice louder as the two women came closer. "After my brother Edward and his issue, to any issue begotten on his dearly beloved wife, and for lack of such issue it was to descend first to me and my heirs—and what heirs will I have, no husband ever having been chosen for me?—then to her, by name, Lady Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's mouth opened, but Lady Alana shook her head very hard, and Elizabeth swallowed her joy. Her eyes were blazing, as yellow as those of the lion she had created to destroy her abductors.
Now Lady Alana gestured and Elizabeth put away her embroidery and rose from the bench. If Mary and her companion came to the edge of the hedge and turned, they would see her sitting where she could hear them speak. Elizabeth dropped her shield and Alana pulled her silently away in the opposite direction toward the other maidens near the pond.
Lady Alana squeezed her hand. "Not a word," she warned. "Not a word until you have heard this from another source that you can acknowledge to the queen. Catherine is not the kind to approve of those who listen in secret. And do try not to look so . . . so unreasonably happy."
"But my father loves me!"
"Yes, and knows what will be good for his realm too."
Elizabeth's eyes opened wide but, fortunately, before she could ask what Alana meant and just as they arrived at the pond, Ann Cooke slipped and one foot plunged into the water. Everyone cried out. Lady Alana with her unexpected swiftness of movement caught the girl before she could topple into the pond, and everyone's attention was fixed on her so that Elizabeth's excitement passed unnoticed.
Behind the hedge, Rhoslyn had said, "I see."
"But you do not see enough," Mary nearly wailed. "She is a bastard!"
"She has been declared illegitimate, my lady," Rhoslyn said carefully, trying to remind Mary that she, too, had been declared illegitimate.
"No! I don't mean that. I mean that Elizabeth is not my father's child. Anne was an adulteress and she was with child before she ever married my father. I even warned the queen, but she will not hear it."
For a moment Rhoslyn was speechless. If prejudice was set aside, it was impossible to doubt that Elizabeth was Henry's daughter. She resembled him so closely, from her red head to her agile mind; she resembled Henry much more than did Mary.
"Oh, my lady," Jane Dormer said from behind, "I have begged you not to speak of that to the queen. The king would be angry if she raised the question with him. You do not want to make trouble for Queen Catherine, who is so kind."
Jane Dormer had stopped to look at a specially lush bush of roses and now hurried forward and insinuated herself between Rhoslyn and Mary. Rhoslyn dropped back very willingly. She was in a quandary as to what to say. Rosamund Scot had won special favor with Mary because she had always subtly agreed with Mary when she denigrated Elizabeth or tried to make trouble for her sister.
Now . . . Rhoslyn's mind went back to a most significant meeting with Pasgen two months earlier.
He had come to Iach Hafan, her domain, to tell her that his latest attempt to seize Elizabeth had been a failure. True, he admitted, it had been a spur-of-the-moment arrangement because he had seen her arrive at the Goblin Fair purely by accident. Still, everything had worked, until Elizabeth's shock at being seized had worn off. Then, somehow, she had diverted a Gate to take her to her own destination rather than respond to the amulet he had given her mortal abductors.
"But Gates do not respond to mortals," Rhoslyn remembered protesting.
"It seems they do to Elizabeth," Pasgen had said, and she had not imagined the reluctant admiration in his voice. "She has Talent and, more to the point, she can use it. She took the men to an Unformed land and created a lion that killed them. And not half an hour later, she was sitting with Denoriel and others exuding happiness."
"What?"
Pasgen had not bothered repeating himself. He knew that Rhoslyn had heard him and was merely expressing her shock, shock because a mortal child had been able to overpower one of her brother's amulets, had seen two men killed . . . and had not been shaken and distraught.
"I will meddle no more with Elizabeth," Pasgen had said, with the firm nod that she knew meant his mind was made up, and there would be no shifting him. "I think we have misunderstood the Visions we have shared with the FarSeers. We believed that those were three different possibilities, because that is usually the way FarSeeing works. I no longer think that is so. I think we have been Seeing what will be. The boy will rule, then Mary, and then Elizabeth."
Rhoslyn stared at her brother for a moment, absorbing what he had said. She did not like Elizabeth but she could not help but admire her—even more now; a child of eleven who could create in an Unformed land and fight back against adult male abductors with such ferocity. And a small feeling of contentment moved her. From the first time she had Seen the glory of Elizabeth's reign she had desired it to come to pass.
"But what will you do?" she asked. "Is it now that we must confront Vidal? He surely will not accept the fact of Elizabeth coming to the throne."
Rhoslyn's moment of contentment had been drowned by fear. She knew that Pasgen could defeat Vidal one-on-one, but it would not be that way if Pasgen openly defied the Dark Prince. Vidal would bring the whole herd of dark Sidhe down on them. Pasgen was strong and she had her strengths too, but they could not prevail against the whole Unseleighe host.
Usually that threat was negligible. It was very hard to get the dark Sidhe and the other creatures of the Dark to unite about anything. Ordinarily Vidal could manage to control only a few, but all the Unseleighe would unite to prevent Elizabeth from coming to the throne. Beside that aim, they would be glad to bring her and Pasgen down together if he defied Vidal.
"I think I will disappear," Pasgen said, looking suddenly very happy. "I will make a study of chaos lands and Unformed places. I know that they move around, but perhaps I can find a way to fix them or, better, to mark them so I can return to chosen places. In any case, I do not think Vidal's minions will be able to track me down too easily in those environs."
Rhoslyn remembered taking her brother's hand. "Chaos lands and Unformed places can be dangerous, Pasgen. Be sure to carry the lindys with you."
Pasgen smiled at her. "I will. And it will not be as dangerous as being attacked en masse by the dark Sidhe . . . which I think would happen soon even if I did not defy Vidal. It would have happened already, if Vidal were not so busy in Scotland."
Rhoslyn nodded. At court she had heard a great deal about how the Scots refused to abide by the Treaty of Greenwich and give the infant Queen Mary of Scotland into Henry's hands.
"May the Powers bless King Henry for being such a stubborn idiot and demanding just what the Scots will not give," Pasgen continued, with the first wholly cheerful smile she had seen on his face in an age. "If he did not think he already ruled them so that he can issue demands and have them instantly bow, they might be won over. However, Henry's stubbornness is encouraging Vidal to stir the pot. Long may the Scottish wars rage." Then he bit his lip. "What about you, Rhoslyn? Will you disappear too?"
"I cannot. Mother—"
Pasgen snapped his fingers. "Idiot that I am. I meant to tell you sooner that I agree to her moving to the empty house—" he laughed "—we will have to learn to call it something else. And I have thought of a good way to get clients for her. If you will make three simulacra . . ."
Rhoslyn's mind skipped over his ideas for a booth at each of the great markets with broadcast sheets describing Llanelli's services and instructions for Gating to the empty house. At the time she had seized on the ideas and they had spent a long time discussing how to protect Llanelli. Now, however, that work was done and Llanelli established, and what shone in Rhoslyn's mind like a beacon was the end of the conversation she had had with Pasgen.
"And perhaps I will look specially at empty domains closer to Seleighe places . . ." he had said, leaving the suggestion hanging.
But Rhoslyn remembered how her heart had leapt—with hope, not fear. "Yes!" she remembered exclaiming. "Yes. Oh, Pasgen, do you think we could—"
The joy had drained away from his expression and he had shaken his head. "If they did not kill us out of hand, we would be pariah dogs, never accepted, never trusted . . ."
"And how is that different from what we have now?" Rhoslyn asked bitterly. "Except that among the Seleighe we would not need to fear hate spells and enchanted weapons!"
He had not answered that, only put out a hand to stroke her cheek. "Will you be safe if I go?"
Rhoslyn had tried to shake off the dream of moving out of the Dark and smiled. "Oh, yes. I will go to the mortal world and take up residence as Mary's lady. If Aurelia asks what I am doing, I can say that Mary is the best path to Elizabeth's destruction but, since I may not use any spell on her, it takes time and skill to influence her by mortal persuasion."
Mary's voice speaking her mortal name cut through Rhoslyn's memories and she came back to the present with a feeling of mingled amusement and frustration. "But Rosamund thinks there is danger that Elizabeth will further influence the prince into ways that will damn him," Mary said. "Do you not, Rosamund?"
Rhoslyn swallowed a sigh. She herself had strongly aided in building the wall of doubt and fear over which Mary regarded her sister. Now, stone by stone and inch by inch of mortar, she would have to take down that wall. Not only take it down but set in its place another—a wall that would protect Elizabeth from real harm during Mary's reign. But to go too fast would destroy Mary's trust and her influence with Mary.
Rhoslyn tried to keep her voice flat and neutral when she said, "It is indeed true that Elizabeth leans toward the reformed religion and that Edward is very fond of her, but since she was sent away, Elizabeth is more careful. I notice she does not stray beyond King Henry's dogma."
"But that is still dangerous," Mary insisted. "Edward is a sweet boy. To teach him to acknowledge the king as—"
"But it is only natural," Jane Dormer said, "for a little boy to believe his father is all powerful."
"Yes." Rhoslyn smiled. "And you need not fear that Christ or his merciful mother would condemn a little boy for believing what his father told him. You will have many years to teach him better ways."
The smile felt stiff on her face and she suggested that it was still too warm to find walking in the garden entirely pleasurable. Perhaps a bower in the shade and a game . . . Rhoslyn was not really too warm but she wanted to get out of the area where Elizabeth's voice rose above that of the other girls as they exclaimed over a mishap to one of their number. Mary could be quite an interesting companion when she could be diverted from the subject of religion.
As the whole group of girls fussed over Ann Cooke's wet shoe and stocking, Elizabeth brought from the small basket that contained the book cover she was embroidering, the piece of cloth usually used to protect the embroidery. For now it could serve to dry Ann's foot and stocking. Her older sister, Mildred, was using dry grass to wipe out the shoe as well as she could. Amid laughter and thanks, Elizabeth and Lady Alana were absorbed into the group.
Although she now had her delight under control so it would not burst out and make the other girls wonder. Elizabeth was very happy in her return to court.
Admittedly, there was a dark side to this restoration in that Denoriel was no longer free to visit as he had been in St. James's. Nor did he and Elizabeth dare meet in the Wilderness as they used to do.
Whether Stafford was still watching, they did not know but Elizabeth had determined to be a model of propriety. Now when she went out to walk or ride, she made sure to be accompanied not only by her own servants, who were known to be devoted and all too ready to lie for her, but by some of the young ladies being schooled in the queen's enlarged nursery.
Because of Denoriel's enforced absence, Aleneil had taken up her place in Elizabeth's small entourage as Lady Alana. The war in France was eating money, far in excess of what had been planned, so that allowances were being cut to the bone or discontinued entirely. Kat Champernowne had been forced to dismiss some of Elizabeth's ladies and gentlemen; thus Lady Alana's offer to return to service was welcomed warmly. Lady Alana did not require any stipend and would be a helpful support. Kat introduced Alana to Queen Catherine, who soon found Lady Alana better company than many of her own ladies. Lady Alana was approved.
In the weeks that followed Aleneil had detected no threat to Elizabeth, and Aleneil was actually in a better position to watch for threats than Denoriel, because she was very often present in Elizabeth's chambers. The only thing that troubled her was that she had sensed Sidhe—almost certainly Rhoslyn—in Mary's company and she associated that with the growing coldness between Mary and Elizabeth.
At least, Aleneil told Denoriel when she Gated to Llachar Lle after everyone else at Hampton Court was asleep, Rhoslyn, if it was Rhoslyn, never came near Elizabeth and there was no sense of magic in or around Mary. However, Aleneil could not tell whether the Sidhe was causing Mary to be cold and eye Elizabeth with fear and suspicion. Worse, she did not know what to tell Elizabeth. She did not want to frighten her nor worsen the situation between her and Mary.
"You think Rhoslyn may be encouraging Mary to believe Elizabeth is a witch?" Denoriel asked anxiously. "Aleneil, warn Elizabeth not to use stickfoot or tanglefoot. Rhoslyn will sense those spells immediately."
"I will remind her, although I know she has not used any spell at all at court. I do not know whether Mary still has some doubts about Elizabeth or is now accounting what she saw in the garden that night as owing to her near sight. More likely it is because Edward is so warm to Elizabeth that Mary is so cold."
Denoriel frowned. "It must be Rhoslyn influencing Mary to hate Elizabeth. I remember Mary as being sweet and gentle and fond of Elizabeth, too, when Elizabeth was only a baby."
"Mary is jealous," Aleneil sighed. "I think she desires Edward's love for herself. But, even more important, because religion in the form of the old faith is the wellspring of her life, she fears Elizabeth's influence will encourage Edward toward the reformed religion. He is taking great interest in Elizabeth's New Year's gift for the queen."
That made Denoriel gape at her in mild surprise. "Edward is interested in women's clothing?"
Aleneil laughed. "No more than any boy of his age. What has taken his fancy is Elizabeth's translation from French into English of a long—" she sighed "—and incredibly boring poem by Margaret of Navarre, called—at least the translation is called—The Mirror of the Sinful Soul."
He shook his head. "But if Elizabeth thinks the poem is boring—"
"I did not say that Elizabeth thought the poem was boring, and neither does Edward. It puts forth the idea that since all people are sinful only God's mercy can save a person from hell and only faith can gain God's mercy. Good works, as in the old religion—which resulted in the extreme wealth of the Church—are no longer necessary."
Denoriel groaned; it was clear he found all the convolutions and flourishes of mortal religions incomprehensible as well as absurd. "The things these mortals can dream up to worry about. Who cares? I surely hope that Elizabeth will grow out of this fancy."
"I am sure she will." Aleneil laughed. "It is not a heart preoccupied with guilt and sin that brought about such a flowering as we ForeSee."
"True enough." Denoriel smiled. "And she certainly does not seem preoccupied with sin when she goes Underhill. Nor is she worried about doing 'witchcraft' when we teach her spells. She loves them." He sighed. "I miss her."
"You would see more of her, although under formal circumstances, if you found yourself a good friend at court that you could visit."
"No, not yet." Denoriel sighed. "The men I need are with the king in France." He sighed again. "This war cannot come to a good end. Henry and the emperor Charles have entirely different purposes and plans. Charles desires to attack and take Paris and Henry wants to extend his influence in France by taking the towns near the Pale of Calais. Do you know that when Norfolk and Suffolk first brought the army across the narrow sea they had no idea what the king intended them to do there?"
Aleneil nodded. "One of the privy councilors had a letter from Norfolk saying very tartly that he had expected to know, when he set out with the vanguard from Calais, where he was supposed to be going!"
Denoriel laughed at the absurdity of it. "Yes, and then Henry decided that they should attack Montreuil or Ardres, which is just outside the Pale. Naturally this did not please Charles, because if the English only hang about Calais, they will never help him take Paris."
Aleneil frowned. "Can the result of the war have any influence on Elizabeth?"
Denoriel shook his head. "Not unless Henry so infuriates the emperor Charles that he breaks his agreement with England and makes truce and treaty with France. Then Henry would be odd man out. If France and the Empire combine against him he might become desperate enough to offer Elizabeth as a bride to gain an ally."
Aleneil looked startled and anxious. "She is nearly old enough and such a marriage might take her out of the line of succession. Denoriel, you had better make some connections in court so we can be warned of any such plans and arrange to counter them."
"There is no hurry," Denoriel assured her. "First we must see what the end of this war will be. It may not fall out the way I now see it." He stared unseeingly at the wall for a moment, then added, slowly, "What we must guard against right now is Mary's animosity. She has the queen's ear and might influence her against Elizabeth. And that would be beyond either of us to counteract."