Claire Delacroix (4 page)

His gaze was more forthright than she appreciated and Viviane stiffened. “I guess your costume is authentic, but it’s like a bit dull, don’t you think?”

Oh!

“My mother wrought this kirtle with her own hands!” Viviane declared indignantly before she could consider the wisdom of speaking her mind. “And we dyed the cloth together. ’Twas woven by the old woman in Kiltyre who knows best to spin the wool and the woad was plucked from the hills not far from town, where ’tis said to grow best. ’Twas the last labor we completed together and a fine piece of workmanship for mortal hands, and I will thank you to not belittle the result.”

The man flung up his hands in surrender and took a step back. “Hey,
easy
. It was just like constructive criticism. How would I know you had so much baggage with it?”

Viviane kept her mouth closed, for ’twas clear she had no baggage at all.

Were there madmen in Avalon? She could not recall such a detail, though in this moment she most assuredly tried.

He leaned closer and his manner became confidential. “Really, though, you should like work on that accent. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it sounds really, really fake. I’d ease up on the ’
twas
action. It’s just a bit over the top, you know? “

Viviane folded her arms across her chest, more than done with this man’s manners and his mysterious allusions. “Nay, I do
not
know,” she said as crisply as she dared. “You speak most oddly yourself and make little enough sense, sir, in addition to the strange manner of your own garb.”

“This, strange?” He laughed as though she had made a fulsome jest, though Viviane found naught amusing about her comment.

“Aye, strange ’tis and there can be no doubt of that.” Viviane pointed to his outer chemise, annoyed that he would pretend otherwise. “What need has a chemise of teeth? And what whimsy turns the fleece of sheep to such a violet hue?”

He visibly preened and she wondered if his garb was some fanciful invention of his own.

Could he be one who shifted shapes?

“Hey, this is polar fleece, the good heavy duty stuff.” He lifted a fistful and shook it at her. “No sheep died for this, honey, just a few polyesters.” He fiddled with the front of his chemise as Viviane wondered precisely what a polyester might be.

“Teeth,” he echoed with a grin and a shake of his head. He then meshed both sides of his chemise together by means of a little bar, clearly proving the extent of his magical powers. Viviane gasped when the two edges fastened and remained together. Then she narrowed her eyes, glancing about herself cautiously.

He was not mad. He was a
sorceror
! She would do well to not cause offense, lest he cast a spell upon her. Too late Viviane wished she had not been so quick to speak her thoughts, but then, she ought to be used to such sensation. She was not known for her silence.

She had best bide her tongue. Severely.

“Zipper,” he informed her archly. “Like, hey, we may be out in the sticks, but you can’t be that amazed.”

Viviane was indeed amazed, but considered it unwise to say as much. Her chattering had gotten her into considerable difficulties in places much less wondrous than this.

Perhaps he - remarkably - did not realize that she was a stranger here. Perhaps ’twould not be clever to draw attention to that fact. Perhaps if she could merely blend in, no one would think to evict her from Avalon.

Or send her back to the archbishop’s court.

’Twas worth a try.

Her companion seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she chose what she deemed the safest topic possible.

“My name is Viviane,” she said with a smile. “I do not believe I have made your acquaintance.”

“Monty Sullivan,” the man asserted and stuck out his hand in the manner of knights pledging no harm to the other. It could not be a bad import. Viviane took his hand and shook it, as she had seen the knights do at home. “And spare me the Monty Python jokes, okay? And no, just to get it out of the way, I don’t do the full Monty either.”

Viviane was only too happy to nod agreement, since she could not fathom a guess as to his meaning. He seemed well disposed toward her, despite the oddities of his manner.

And her mother had always said to take fortune wherever ’twas found.

Viviane smiled her best smile. “Could you possibly aid me in finding accommodation on your enchanted isle, Monty?”

“Just arrived?”

Viviane demurred. “I seek a change.”

Monty grinned. “Oh yeah, you were like probably camping out with those re-enactment types. Sure, there are B&B’s out here or a hotel back in town. What’s your price range?” Viviane must have looked blank, because Monty leaned closer and frowned. “You know, your
budget
. Like how much cash do you have to spend every night?”

“Oh.” That could be a problem. Viviane knotted her hands together. She had naught in her pockets and no purse any longer - hers had been seized when she was cast to the dungeons.

’Twould undoubtedly be better to not mention her incarceration, the charge against her, or indeed her sentence. Convicted criminals, however innocent they claimed themselves to be, were seldom welcome arrivals in any realm.

“I have no coin.”

Her companion winced sympathetically. “I know that tune. Do you like have a job?”

Viviane knew her incomprehension showed.

“You know, what you usually do for money.”

“Oh! For coin, I write manuscripts...”

“A writer!” He clapped one hand on his forehead. “Man, I knew you were like a kindred spirit. Waiting on royalties, huh?” He hunkered closer beside her, his manner yet more confidential. “Jeez Louise, but publishers are a stingy bunch of bastards, don’t I know it. Keep your money forever and a day before they finally ship it off to you, and everyone thinks cause you’ve got your name in print, you’re a millionaire.” He clucked his tongue. “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”

He looked most earnest and Viviane did not trust herself to say anything of intelligence when she understood so little of what he meant.

Monty fortunately was undeterred by her silence. “Hey, look, take it from me. You’re gonna survive in this biz, you like gotta get a day job. There’s no way around it.”

“I see,” Viviane said slowly, even though she did not.

Monty studied her for a long moment, then grinned. “No clue what you’re going to do, right?”

Viviane smiled. She was getting used to his strange manner of speaking and considered that it might be her very good fortune that had ensured she met this sorceror. Indeed, he did not seem troubled by her ignorance, which was most fortuitous.

“None,” she admitted.

Monty pushed to his feet. “Well, lucky for you, I have connections. I think Barb’s looking for someone and with my endorsement -“ he snapped his fingers “- you’ll be like
in
. I’ve known her forever, after all.”

Forever. She
was
then in the company of an immortal - if not under his protection - and undoubtedly going to meet another one.

Monty grinned and Viviane smiled back. “Then, we must seek out this Barb with all haste and beg her indulgence.”

“Absolutely. Hey, look, I like rode my bike out here. You mind walking back to Ganges? It’s about three miles.”

Viviane could not imagine how else one would travel such a small distance. “A pittance.” She shrugged and watched Monty retrieve a two wheeled contraption from the edge of the woods.

“Great, then let’s go, man.”

Man
? Viviane lifted her nose in the air as she marched to his side, knowing no one with eyes in their head could have doubts as to her gender. She itched to correct Monty, but was still leery of his magical powers.

With an effort, she kept her tone carefully neutral. “Although I appreciate your aid in this, Monty, I do not understand that you refer to me as a man.”

Monty laughed as though she were the wittiest jester in the archbishop’s own court. “Hey, there’s not a doubt in my mind which team you play on.” He eased closer to her as they matched steps. “Which is like a nice little segue into what I’d like to talk about while we walk.”

Viviane met his gaze and didn’t trust the light in his eyes. “Aye?” she said cautiously.

“Aye,” he echoed and grinned in a most cocksure manner. “How about dinner?”

“And what of it?” Viviane frowned as they started down the dirt road. “I am hungered each and every evening, as any person of good health must be.”

Monty roared with laughter. “Man, you are really something else.” She fired a glance his way that sobered him. “What I meant is, would you have dinner with me?”

From his manner, Viviane guessed that this was a matter of import, though she could not fathom why. She supposed ’twas a concession that they were not to be adversaries, for ’twas vulgar to break bread with one’s enemy.

But they had already shaken hands. And indeed, if she was without coin and patron, how else might she ensure that she ate at all?

“I should be honored.”

“Great!” Monty fairly bounced along the road. He was a most odd man, in Viviane’s eyes, all lean limbs like a young boy, yet his visage showed the passage of some years.

But then, what did one expect of sorcerors? Wise eyes and a youthful visage, if naught else. Perhaps a measure of eccentricity and a tendency to laugh.

Monty more than fit the description.

“There’s a terrific vegan place in the village - they have a pad thai that is like awesome-licious...”

His words so quickly made no sense to Viviane that she let her thoughts wander as they walked, her gaze dancing over the beautiful pines lining the curving road. She heard seabirds calling overhead and turned to watch them, quietly marveling. She raised one hand to brush her fingertips across her pendant, as she was inclined to do.

’Twas only then that Viviane realized that the moonstone pendant was gone.

Panic flicked through her, for Viviane was not one to lose anything, certainly not anything she held as precious. She spun and darted back along the road, ignoring Monty’s cries.

But there was naught on the path where she had first arrived.

Viviane’s pendant was gone.

Although it could have taken no small magic to wring such a great change in her circumstance. Perhaps the very act of making her wish had wrought the pendant’s destruction. Perhaps it was a gift intended to save her hide but once.

Indeed, if she kept her wits about her, that should suffice.

She smiled for a puzzled Monty and returned to his side, mumbling some excuse that seemed to put his concern at ease. Moments later, they rounded a curve in the road and Viviane spied the crescent of the moon riding high in the midday sky. It looked like a sliver of silver hanging there, the shape of it reminding her of the light that had danced within her pendant.

Perhaps her gift from her father had become one with the moon again. Viviane smiled secretly, rather liking the idea of that.

* * *

Monty teased Viviane as they walked that she was ‘rubbernecking something fierce’ but she could not help staring at the town they eventually entered. Avalon was so different from anything she had ever seen before, each glance filled with inexplicable wonders. The people were of every hue it seemed, their garb of every shape and description, their words impossible to catch in the wind.

Some whizzed about on “bicycles” like that of Monty, their heads encased in brilliantly hued helmets and their garb tight. Some rode four-wheeled carts of every shape and color which evidently had no need of either oxen or horses, and made a fearsome noise as they passed. It was all very strange yet they all took it in stride.

Viviane was clearly beyond the beyond.

Barb owned a shop perched on the edge of Ganges Harbor. It was painted in vivid hues that made Viviane feel more at home than anything else thus far, the columns on the porch brightly patterned in green and blue and yellow. There were flowers growing in front of the house and little plants tangled alongside the path, an orange cat sitting in the sun on the porch as it cleaned its paws.

Yet the true marvel of this day of marvels proved to be the contents of Barb’s shop. Unlike the merchants’ stalls to which Viviane was accustomed, in which a counter was opened on one wall of a workshop, the potential client actually entered Barb’s shop. And there, that client was confronted by a wondrous array of books for sale.

Books! The single word did not do them justice. These manuscripts were unlike anything Viviane had seen before. Some were filled with text and others contained marvelous colored pictures of lifelike detail. And the quantity of them!

Indeed, Viviane knew with unshakable certainty that such books could only exist in a magical domain. Her conviction that she had arrived in Avalon took root and blossomed tenfold. For she already knew that Avalon was a place of learning and wisdom - it made only good sense that ’twould be rife with the most wondrous books she had ever seen.

And one would have to be immortal to even begin to read them all.

Aye, Viviane hoped that she too might have eternity in this place! The very walls were filled with crowded shelves, that alone telling Viviane that this Barb was a wealthy woman indeed. How else could she have afforded such largesse, even here?

How else could she so graciously admit strangers to finger the manuscripts that comprised her wealth?

Viviane cringed at the casual air of one woman in the shop as she rifled through a volume filled with wondrous illustrations of food. Even from this distance, the dishes looked real and Viviane knew that single volume must be worth a king’s ransom. Barb must have so much coin to her name - a veritable duchess or queen! - for the damage inevitable from such careless handling to mean naught to her.

Or she might be a sorceress of untold power. This interview might prove to be Viviane’s true test. Her mouth went dry at the thought.

To be certain, Barb was not dressed in the fine garb Viviane might have expected - she wore no samite nor ermine, no silk nor expensive hues. Surprisingly enough, she wore chausses of faded blue, and a dark green chemise all of a piece with a hood. She had snatched her long dark hair up in a band - no doubt to keep those long tresses from wreaking havoc all the day long - and her feet were bare, although her gold-rimmed spectacles were another unmistakable sign of affluence.