Part 16 (2/2)
”Yes, please!”
”Just so! The Princess Suldrun gave birth to a boy-child. The father was Aillas of Troicinet. The baby is now known as Prince Dhrun.”
”Prince Dhrun! Now I am truly astonished! How can it be? He is far older than I!”
”Patience! You shall learn all. Now then. For safety the baby was taken to a place in the forest. Twisk chanced to pa.s.s by and exchanged you for the little blond boy-baby, and that is the way of it. You are a changeling. Dhrun lived at Thripsey Shee a year and a day by mortal time, but by fairy time, many years elapsed: seven, eight, or it might be nine; no one knows since no one keeps a reckoning.”
Madouc stood in bemused silence. Then she asked: ”Am I then of fairy blood?”
”You have lived long years in human places, eating human bread and drinking human wine. Fairy stuff is delicate; who knows how much has been replaced with human dross? That is the way of it; still, all taken with all, it is not so bad a condition. Would you have it differently?”
Madouc reflected. ”I would not want to change from the way I am-whatever that is. But in any case, I am grateful to you for the information.”
”Save your thanks, my dear! It is just a little favor-barely enough to be reckoned.”
”In that case, tell me who might be my father.”
The wefkin chuckled. ”You phrase the question with a nicety! Your father might be this one or he might be that one, or he might be someone far away and gone. You must ask Twisk, your mother. Would you like to meet her?”
”Very much indeed.”
”I have a moment or two to spare. If you so request, I will teach you to call your mother.”
”Please do!”
”Then you so request?”
”Of course!”
”I accede to your request with pleasure, and there will be no great increment to our little account. Step over here, if you will.”
Madouc sidled from behind the bank of foxglove and approached the wefkin, who exuded a resinous odor, as if from crushed herbs and pine needles, mingled with bosk, pollen and musk.
”Observe!” said the wefkin in a grand voice. ”I pluck a blade of saw gra.s.s; I cut a little slit here and another here; then I do thus, then so. Now I blow a gentle breath-very easy, very soft, and the virtue of the gra.s.s produces a call. Listen!”
He blew, and the gra.s.s whistle emitted a soft tone. ”Now then: you must make just such a whistle with your own fingers.”
Madouc started to make the whistle, then, troubled by a thought which had been working at the back of her mind, paused. She asked: ”What do you mean when you speak of 'our little account'?”
The wefkin made a flickering flourish of long-fingered hands. ”Nothing of large significance: in the main, just a way of speaking.”
Madouc dubiously continued her work. She paused again. ”It is well known that fairies never give without taking. Is the same true of wefkins?”
”Bah! In large transactions, this might be the case. Wefkins are not an avaricious folk.”
Madouc thought to detect evasiveness. ”Tell me, then, how I must pay for your advice?”
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