Uninvited Guests 4

Being a fantasy, this does not seek to be remotely, um,

accurate

. It is set in a pseudo-medieval milieu, but the characters have modernish names and speak in modern vernacular for the most part. I didn't want to get tangled up in 'prithee milady' and all that malarky. (I brought the last rogue 'forsooth' down in the long grass yesterday) I also allowed modernish things such as orange juice and coffee because my characters should have some creature comforts.

My regular readers will know that I prefer storytelling over sex and am a hopeless romantic. That's not to say that there aren't steamier sections, but you'll have to work for them.

As ever, any resemblance to people or fae living or dead is purely coincidental. Constructive criticism is welcome.

~~

Homecoming

It was the second week of July, and the road was baked dry and dusty. In the middle of summer, even at this early hour, the sun was already high in the sky. It beat down and the Wizard was tired. No, he was more than that. The people of Terbiche had a phrase that roughly translated as

bone weary

. The Wizard felt that ache in his very essence as he sagged in the saddle.

His mare started to pick up her pace a little as she scented the home they'd left so many months - no, nearly

two years!

- earlier. It had been supposed to be a short shopping expedition! A little jaunt to Morland for some supplies. Then there had been that business with the Guard, an extended stay at His Majesty's pleasure, fending off Madame Corlay... he rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He was lucky he'd got home with his hide intact. Speaking of home, why was there steam coming from the lower bathroom window? Mrs Wilcott's quarters were on the next floor up.

"Mrs Wilcott!" he bellowed up at the window. There was no answer, instead he heard the sound of whistling. Mrs Wilcott never whistled.

"If the person using the guest bathroom is not Mrs Wilcott, then there is going to be trouble!"

The head of a young man, thirty perhaps, with tousled wet hair poked out of the window.

"What's with all the shouting? It's not even seven o'clock. People are trying to sleep!"

The Wizard's eyes narrowed. "Who the devil are you?"

"What's it to you?"

Struggling to control his temper - for the Craft was not to be used lightly - the Wizard folded his arms. "This is my house."

"Oh! Sorry to hear that. It's a very nice house. The bits I get to see anyway."

Parsing this statement the Wizard's eyebrows drew down. "Does that mean you are not the sole occupant of, let me remind you,

my

house?"

"Naw. Liss has the top bedroom."

In an instant the Wizard's wand was out and pointing at the horrified young man at the second floor bathroom window.

"In my private chambers?"

At this, two floors higher, his bedroom window opened, and the yawning face of a beautiful young woman appeared.

"What's all the fuss, Perce?"

The young man craned to face up to the newcomer. "This guy says it's his tower!"

She frowned. "That can't be right. Mrs Wilcott said he was dead."

Gritting his teeth, the Wizard struggled for restraint. "Both of you, in the kitchen, in ten minutes or I'll turn you both into toads."

"I don't think you will," said the young woman.

"Do not test me! I have had a long and tiresome journey and the fact that you are not now croaking your unhappiness on some lily-pad is testament to my good nature! Ten minutes, both of you!" he roared.

The other two rolled their eyes and disappeared.

Sliding off the mare, the Wizard stomped round to the stables to find two other horses already installed. The mare gave a whicker, and trotted forward to greet her new stablemates, a handsome black stallion and another mare, a strawberry roan. The Wizard put his fists on his hips. His squatters had obviously been

in situ

for some while. Although, on the plus side, the hay manger was well stocked and the stable clean and tidy. He harrumphed and made for the open back door of the tower. A woman inside was singing.

"That had better be Mrs Wilcott," he muttered under his breath, "or there will be

three

toads in the pond ere long."

On reaching the back door there was the smell of fresh bread and his mouth watered. It had been a grim ride home with creature comforts few and far between. In the kitchen was a woman on the verge of middle age, the first grey hairs threading their way through her mop of chestnut waves. She had her back to him as she worked at the kitchen table. He heaved a sigh of relief. At least something was normal. Leaning against the door jamb, he knocked on the door. She turned round and shrieked.

"Sir! You're alive! Oh, praise be!"

To his great startlement, she ran to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Awkwardly he allowed his arms to encircle her to return the gesture, before she abruptly stepped back, her cheeks flaming.

"Oh, what must you think of me?" she muttered, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her apron.

The Wizard found his heart warm with unfamiliar affection. It had been a long time since anyone had greeted his appearance with anything other than dismay.

"It's a great pleasure to see you too, Mrs Wilcott. I have long despaired of seeing a friendly face. Now, tell me, why did you think I was dead?"

Recovering her composure, his housekeeper clasped her hands together. "Well, it must have been last summer - for you have been gone a long while, Sir."

He nodded ruefully. That was very true.

"A troupe of players came by, and I invited them to rest their horses and bide the night. They told me the news of the sacking of Perdue. I knew you had gone there and as the weeks went by, I feared the worst."

The troupe had been more than a little in awe when they realised where they were taking their leave. "He's not, you know,

here

, is he?"

He nodded, his face grim. "It was an ugly business. The town was full of rumours of the Linker army. They were expecting to be occupied but not the savagery that came after. Their commanders completely lost control of their men. Fortunately I had already departed because the apothecary I sought had fled ahead of their advance. Mayhap he had a better idea of what was in prospect." He sighed heavily. "And it was a long and wearisome journey to find another that wasn't a complete charlatan. I ended up near the Ferlish border if you can believe."

Mrs Wilcott brought her hands to her face. "But that's a hundred leagues!"

"And my arse can testify to every single one."

She blushed again. He had never been this informal with her before. When she looked up, he was smiling.

"That bread smells delicious. Is there any bacon and coffee to go with it?"

She put her hand on his upper arm. "Yes, yes, of course. Oh, you must be fatigued. Sit, sit!" and she bustled away. He looked down at where she had touched him. A whole pile of things that he had packed away for safe keeping while he was abroad in a hostile world were cautiously making their way back into the light. He stepped into the kitchen proper, collapsed into a chair and put his head in his hands, suddenly feeling the weight of his expedition on his shoulders.

The sound of a cup being placed on the table brought his head up and he stared at the steaming brown liquid. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply and appreciatively. His eyes flicked up to where Mrs Wilcott was looking down at him with obvious affection, arms folded over a tea towel.

"Nectar," he murmured, and her smile widened.

"Bacon is in the pan. I'll get you a plate and some butter."

The door to the tower opened and the two (

'it had better not be more than two'

, he thought to himself) other occupants came into the kitchen.

"Ah! Master Percival and Mistress Melisaa! Can I introduce-"

"We've met," the Wizard said sternly. "What are they doing in my house?"

"I'm a maiden in distress," announced the woman.

No more than a girl, thought the Wizard. Early twenties at most. However, she was very comely, full lips, wavy straw coloured hair, the flush of youth on her skin, and very blue eyes. A memory tickled.

"You're not Princess Melissa of Pantanal, are you?" The last time he'd looked she was still a child.

"The same!" she said delightedly. "How do you come to know me?"

He waggled his head from side to side. "I have had occasion to visit your father's court. How is King Ferdinand?"

Her face fell. "He's dead. He caught a fever last summer."

"My condolences. Now, what's all this about a maiden in distress?"

She grimaced. "My brother Rupert has claimed the throne."

"But Albert is the elder, or is he dead too?"

"He might as well be. He's off fighting the Linkers and Rupert is busy making himself comfortable as head of state."

The Wizard sighed. "And I suppose that has something to do with your being here?"

"Rupert wants to marry me off to King Caldo-"

"-bane of the Linkers," the Wizard finished for her. He shook his head. "As if that's going to stop Caldobane gobbling up Pantanal if the mood takes him."

"That's what I said!"

"So, how long have I got before Rupert shows up with a company to take you back?"

She pouted, and it didn't escape the Wizard's notice how the young man's expression softened.

"Surely he wouldn't try and assault the Tower?"

"A couple of trebuchets would make short work of this place if I'm not here to defend it."

She fell silent and stared angrily at the floor.

"But you've been learning magic too, haven't you, Liss?" said Percival.

"What?"

roared the Wizard, and everyone flinched.

She shifted from one foot to the other. "I just had a look at some of the books in your library." Her head came up. "It's a fabulous library!"

"You're lucky one of the grimoires didn't eat you!"

She huffed. "I've got more sense than that! I only opened Gorlick's Primer by accident. Then I found I could do some of the things inside."

The Wizard's eyebrows climbed. She shouldn't even have been able to see it, let alone perform any of the cantrips.

"Such as?"

Melissa held out her hand and flicked her thumb up from under her curled first finger, murmuring

"olcat!"

as she did so. A tiny flame danced atop her thumb before she whispered,

"bése!"

and it went out.

The Wizard sat back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. He'd not had an apprentice in an age. Plus, it would deter Rupert. No one lightly attempted to apprehend a sorcerer's apprentice. The consequences could be...

severe.

A Princess mage of the realm, eh? This could be propitious in many ways.

"Mm," he grunted, "that's good, but no more reading my books without asking, and no more performing magic until I have trained you."

"Trained me?" Melissa responded incredulously, even as she blushed at his praise.

He turned his attention to the young man. "What's your story?"

"I am Prince Percival of Olivaunt," he sighed. "I am sixty-eighth in line to the throne, and I am the seventh son of a seventh son. Greatness is expected of me, but it doesn't seem to be happening right now. So I set out on a quest."

"To do what?"

Percival shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I just expected something to happen. Some feat of derring-do that I could chance my arm at."

"That's a terrible plan!"

"It was either this or lounging around at court exchanging snarky remarks with my cousins."

The Wizard grunted. "They're a fecund lot, your court. Good job King Harald's got those seaport taxes to keep the lot of you in chocolate and mimosa."

"Ooh, mimosa!" breathed Melissa. "I haven't had any of that in simply an age."

"It's the hot chocolate that keeps the chill out. I say, Mrs W, is there any of that bacon spare?" Percival asked.

"Of course, Master Percival, you sit yourself down," Mrs Wilcott smiled, as she turned to the range.

"Now just wait a cotton-picking minute!" the Wizard said loudly. "How come you get to invite two strangers to avail themselves of my hospitality?"

"I thought you were dead, remember? And I wanted some company. Melissa needs a place to stay, and Percival is a lovely young man," said his housekeeper firmly. "He helps with the chores, accompanies me to market and he fixed the roof of the stable after the storm damaged it."

Percival folded his arms and grinned smugly.

"Bah!" said the Wizard. "I'd better get my bacon

before

these two."

~~

The Wizard goes to bed while the women talk

After breakfast the four of them prepared to ascend the stairs to the first floor. The Wizard looked at the first step and gave the faintest groan. Summoning his greatest reserves, he hauled himself up, one by one until he stood in the large round room that served to entertain guests - when he had any - which he now did.

Although mostly shrouded in dust sheets, the only items of furniture in use were two armchairs by the west window. The Wizard regarded them thoughtfully then steeled himself for the climb to the next level to where the door to one of the guest rooms was still open. He raised his eyebrows at Percival who nodded. They carried on up to the next level which held another guest bedroom and Mrs Wilcott's quarters.

The Wizard turned to his housekeeper. "Let me guess, you're acting as chaperone for the Princess."

Mrs Wilcott coloured slightly. "I thought it would look better if I slept between the two of them."

"Hmph."

On the next floor were the Wizard's own living quarters, and he gave heartfelt thanks to whichever deity happened to be listening, that that was end of

stairs

for the moment. He was also pleasantly surprised to see that Melissa had not imposed too much of her own identity on it. There were feminine items on the dresser under the mirror but only such things as a hairbrush and scrunchies. He turned to the young woman.

"I didn't feel right sleeping in here, but Mrs Wilcott insisted," Melissa said in response to his unspoken query

He nodded. "Well, now I'm here you can move downstairs. I can bespell your door to preserve your modesty if you wish."

She blushed and the Wizard was startled to discover unexpected paternal feelings stirring in his breast.

"That's not necessary, Perce is a gentleman, but thank you for the sentiment. We would have found a way if we'd wanted," Melissa said quietly.

The Prince looked hideously embarrassed, and the Wizard chuckled. He motioned to Melissa and the two of them climbed to the library while Percival and Mrs Wilcott returned to the kitchen.

Once inside the double height space, Melissa hummed happily as she scanned the shelves.

"Even Daddy's library didn't have some of these books," she said, trailing her fingers over the spines.

"I'm not surprised. Some of these have taken me a considerable amount of time and effort - not to mention personal risk - to acquire. Now, you are free to touch anything on this floor."

"The dangerous stuff is up there," said Melissa, pointing at the upper shelves. "Yes, I figured it out. But Gorlick's Primer was down here."

"That is because only the

fae

-touched can even see it. Did you have a fairy godmother?"

"Of course!" she said, affronted. "She came with the very best references. One from the Imperial Court itself."

His eyebrows rose. They'd been getting a lot of exercise since his return home. "I'm impressed! Any specific fortune telling?"

"No, just the usual

'healthy, wealthy and wise'

. Did you say I shouldn't have been able to read it?"

"Yes. And you must have some

fae

ancestry to be able to perform the cantrips. You also cancelled your spell before you ran out of

mana

or burned the place down."

"People have to learn that?"

"You'd be surprised." He yawned hugely. "I'm going to go to bed now."

"But it's only eight o'clock in the morning!"

"Then I plan to sleep for twenty three hours. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

After Melissa left the room and closed the door the Wizard looked up at the ceiling. "There are

strangers

in the Tower! What are you doing?"

~~

Down in the kitchen the Princess found Mrs Wilcott sitting at the table peeling apples. She had a wistful smile on her face. "What do you think of the Master?" she asked.

"His bark is worse than his bite," said the young woman, dropping into a chair and picking up a paring knife. "He reminds me of one of my tutors."

"A nice one I hope."

"Mister Findlay was a hard taskmaster, but I liked him."

"You've turned out very well if I may make so bold, miss. There's not many royals would lift a finger in the kitchen."

Melissa snorted. "What else am I supposed to do, flop about the observatory sighing and waiting for my handsome Prince?"

"Master Percival is good looking, isn't he?"

The Princess grimaced. "That's as maybe but I still have the throne to consider. Rupert's not wrong that I have to make a good match, but I'd like to have

some

say in the matter. Have you seen King Caldobane?"

"Can't say as I have, my dear."

The young woman shuddered. "He's so

old.

And bald. Perce at least has his own hair and is the right side of sixty."

Mrs Wilcott pursed her lips. "You could outlive him and then be the dowager Queen if you have a son. There's a lot would consider that an acceptable bargain."

"Well I'm not one of them!" Melissa said firmly, and Mrs Wilcott chuckled.

Distantly came the sound of an axe on wood.

"I do hope he finds what he's looking for," murmured the housekeeper.

Having finished peeling the apples, Melissa rose from the table to wash her hands. She would not deny that the well-muscled and stripped to the waist Prince Percival cut a fine figure as he swung the axe. He paused briefly to wipe the sweat from his brow and put his hand through his unruly shock of black hair. She knew that his eyes were a warm hazel, and his wide mouth was often in the shape of a smile.

"Now, if I were ten years younger..." breathed Mrs Wilcott.

Melissa giggled and turned to look at the housekeeper where she wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue.

"What about Mister Wilcott?"

"Dead these fifteen years. It's why I came here. The Master was passing through Nepton as we were putting my Felix in the ground. He gave me something to ease my sorrow and enquired after my situation. You could have knocked me down with a feather when he offered me the position. Said to come and find him when I was ready. It was six months but eventually I found my way to his door."

"And you never...?"

"If you think King Caldobane's old, think how old the Master is! There's rumours that he's seen at least two hundred summers. In all the time I've been here he hasn't changed a bit. I am so relieved to see him back..." her voice tailed off and she went slightly pink. "I hugged him, and I think that's the first time I've ever done more than take his hand."

~~

The Wizard ponders Mrs Wilcott

Upstairs in the big four poster, his housekeeper's hug was stirring some long dormant thoughts in the Wizard's head. He tossed and turned. How could he be bone weary and yet unable to sleep? He'd nearly drifted off while he got undressed but as soon as his head hit the pillow his eyes snapped open.

Part of it had to be the comfort of course. He'd grown too used to sleeping on the ground. You're probably wondering why he didn't just whistle up some creature comforts to ease his journey, but the Craft is not for fripperies. Besides, its use might attract the wrong sort of attention. The Wizard had not achieved his advanced years without being cautious.