Roanoke Colony, Virginia. 25th March, 1609
Virginia gave up on her sewing. The light from the fire wasn't really bright enough to see by and she had nearly drawn blood the last time she had pricked her finger. In the corner, Peter was reading through some notes that Reed had sent him. While the knight was the acknowledged genius of the colony, even he admitted that Peter was better with his hands. Her husband had a real skill for making things, and even seemed to enjoy it. So when Reed needed a new piece of equipment for one of his experiments, it was Peter he turned to, for turning glass, wood or metal, there was no finer craftsman in the settlement.
Whatever Reed wanted this time, it was making Peter frown, and at one point he even turned the piece of paper upside down. Virginia smiled to herself but refrained from interfering. She was proud of the respect he had earned, his intelligence and wit making him a valued member of the town council, despite his years. They both looked up at a knock on the door. Visitors were rare after dark and they were expecting no-one. Peter reached the door before she could, opening it just enough to admit their guests while keeping out the chill night air.
"Carlos!" Virginia put her sewing on the table and gestured for their friend to take her seat. "And Henry. What are you doing here?"
"Always a pleasure to see you both." Carlos accepted the gesture and indicated for Henry to put him down. "But I fear Peter was a little hasty in shutting the door. We have had another visitor tonight."
Peter opened the door a crack again, eyes widening in astonishment as he stepped back to let the third man in. He was dressed what had once been fine clothes, and now were little more than rags. They still held a little of the red dye, clashing with the red-blonde of his hair and the bright red of the cloth round his eyes.
"You remember Master Murdoch?"
"Of course!" Peter exclaimed, clasping the outstretched hand. "Although he may not remember me."
"I remember you," Matthew Murdoch smiled and held shook Peter's hand "Or at least, I remember your voice, somewhat deeper than when we last met. Who else is here?"
"This is my wife, Virginia."
Murdoch kissed her hand and smiled.
"I'd say you were a fortunate man, Master Parquah."
"I like to think so. Let me get us all a drink."
Once everyone was seated and drinks had been provided all round, Peter turned his attention to the former minstrel.
"So, Matthew, have you decided to join our enterprise?"
"The New World? Carving a future from the land and all that? Not likely." He took a deep draught of his drink. "I'm a musician not a farmer, you know that. And who out here's got the money to pay me?"
"We could pay you in other ways."
Matthew snorted. "Thanks, but gratitude and grain only go so far. No. I'm here to warn you." His sardonic face grew grave. "You left a lot of enemies behind you when you came out here. Some of them have long memories and even longer arms."
"We can take care of ourselves." Peter said hotly.
"I don't doubt it. But it's a lot easier to prepare if you know what's coming, eh?" Matthew put his cup down at his feet.
"I believe," Javier put in, "that you should simply give us your news, whatever it is, in as ordered a form as is possible."
"Of course. Straight to the point, eh? Very well, Master Javier, a fully enumerated list." He ticked off the points on his fingers. "One. Von Doom is furious. He's crazed with anger and pain and intends to make you all, but especially Reed, pay for his humiliation. Last I heard, he plans to send an envoy out here as soon as he can get a ship. It hasn't been easy, as no-one will deal with him now, nor let him cross their land, and as Latveria is landlocked, he's been trapped. But local politics change quickly and he now has an opportunity that I don't think he'll want to waste."
"Who will he send?" Peter demanded.
"I'm not sure, yet. Possibly that Osborne character who brought the device to Elizabeth, God rest her soul. Possibly Natasha." The name was said with a complete lack of emotion. Anther finger was held up.
"Two. King James has his own ambitions in this direction. There are already colonies further up the coast, as you know, and you people are an embarrassment. He will do what he can to remove you. Whom he will send and how he will do it, I have yet to find out. Three. There is a Papal ship on its way. They are chasing something, but even my sources wouldn't say what. All I know is that they're coming here."
"Papal envoy?" Javier's voice was thoughtful. "I wonder if they have come for Enrique as well?"
"No idea. Wouldn't surprise me though." Matthew held up a fourth finger. "Four. Something seriously dangerous is on its way."
"You know, I expect, if you tried, you could be more vague."
Matthew gave Peter a sour look.
"All I know is what I've been told. It's not easy getting news from the East. I'm reliant on silk merchants and spice smugglers, but they know what they're talking about. There was trouble all down their coast for about three months then, two months ago, it all went quiet. The rumour is that whatever caused the trouble is traveling west."
"By land or sea?"
"Both I expect. You need to be ready, though. All of you." Matthew's usually melodious voice had grown grim and hard. "I heard some deeply disturbing stories about men attacking each other like animals and a giant coming down out of the mountains. It's all a bit garbled at the moment. I'm just saying be ready."
The group sat in silence for a moment, considering Matthew's news. Then Javier stirred himself.
"This fits with what I've heard as well. Wanda has been having dreams of danger coming across the water and two people, a fox and a wolf, bearing something that carries evil at its heart."
"Can you see them?"
"I have tried." The flickering fire cast deep shadows across Javier's troubled face. "They are clouded from me, so that one minute I think I have found them, the next I am sure I imagined it. For a man accustomed to being able to trust his own mind it is…disturbing."
"Whatever happens, we will be ready." Peter stood, bringing Murdoch and Henry to their feet as well. "Do you have a bed for the night, Matthew?"
"The Academy has plenty of room." Javier told him. "We will take good care of your friend."
"They have done a fine job so far." The minstrel clasped the hand that was pushed into his. "Sorry I couldn't be more specific."
"You've done more than enough in just coming. Thank you. How long will you be staying?"
"Not sure yet. It all depends."
"On what?"
"Oh, it just depends." Matthew's tight smile made it clear that he would say no more. He put his hand on Henry's arm and let himself be led away.
When their guests were gone, Virginia turned inquisitive eyes on Peter. His hand had gone to the reddened patch on the back of his hand, scratching as he always did when he was anxious or puzzled. The spider bite he had received all those years ago had never completely healed, leaving a nasty lump of a scar behind. His wife batted his hand away and turned his face towards hers. He shrugged
"We always knew there would be a debt to pay for our freedom. Looks like our creditors are coming to call at last. The King was never going to let bygones be bygones, Nicolas was wrong about that, and he will want our land. Our independence sets a bad example to other colonies and he can't afford to have that happen."
"You knew this would happen." There was accusation in the statement.
"Of course I knew. Just as Carlos and Reed knew. Anyone able to look past the next week could have figured it out. I thought it would have happened long before this, though."
"What are we going to do?"
For once, Peter didn't have a ready answer. He'd considered all the possibilities, turning them over and over and inside out over the years, as Sir Nicolas had taught him to do. None were attractive and all held great risk.
"I think," he said at last, "we will have to leave. We will have little choice. Even we can't fight off an entire army."
"I thought that's what Javier was training his people to be? I thought that's why so many had come flocking to him?"
"Even they won't be able to hold off everyone forever. Some of the townspeople will probably choose to stay, accept the rule of England again. The rest of us will not be tolerated, you know that as well as I."
Virginia's eyes fell and Peter cursed his rash words. Drawing her to him, he pressed his forehead to hers.
"I'm sorry, my darling. We'll have to hold a council tomorrow, decide what is to be done. If Matthew is correct, we are going to have many problems to deal with all at once. We will need to be prepared."
Warning him not to be too late, Virginia left Peter staring into the fire turning over in his mind all that he had said. The council tomorrow would be vital for deciding what to do, but he had a feeling he already knew the outcome. Their position here was about to become untenable, and he wouldn't blame the townspeople for asking them to leave. They had been here too long, become too settled and complacent, let themselves believe they could live like normal people. Fleetingly he wondered as he often did what life was supposed to be like. The arrival of Rojhas all those years ago had torn a hole in their reality, and after returning the time wanderer, they had all expected to be blotted out of existence. Instead, here they were, ploughing on with their lives. Peter had lost his friend and master that day, and the lost ached even now. He tried to remember all that he had been taught, all that he had seen Sir Nicolas do. He knew he could be but a pale imitation of his master, but he had tried his hardest to live up to the trust placed in him.
And now, their dream had failed, their hopes in this place were gone. As the shadows danced around the room, Peter felt the blackness of despair creeping in at the edge of his soul. There could be no peace for them. Then a gentle, low voice called his name from the next room and he felt the darkness flee from his thoughts. At least, with everything else that would have to change, he had this to cling onto. Dampening down the fire a little, he blew out the lamp and went to join his wife.
Roanoke Colony, 26th March 1609
It was a clear cold day, fitting for an early March morning. From the high ridge, the plains of Roanoke island stretched away into the distance, cornfields rippling in the light breeze. The sun shone brightly and to the two men standing looking down at the tiny colony, the weather felt was almost uncomfortably hot . They had traveled through waist-deep snow and walls of freezing rain to get here and were not put off by the early morning dew.
"You still sure about this?" The man's voice was gruff and deep.
"You gettin' cold feet?"
"Hmph." Making a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl, he glared up at his companion.
They had positioned themselves to get the best view possible of the town, such as it was. A small cluster of houses on the river front, acting as the nucleus for the group of more outspread huts and shacks throughout the valley. Farmers needed to live near their land, not huddled together miles from the fields. On the far ridge was a tall tower looming over an impressive manor house, while hedgerows marked out a large area that seemed to be some kind of estate. They had scouted the area for two days before deciding to head to the center of the settlement. It seemed unlikely that the people they were looking for would be simple farming folk.
Few words passed between them as they made their way down the shallow slope, slipping occasionally on the still damp grass. Any arguments they might have had before were now irrelevant. Having set foot on this path, there was nothing to be done but follow it now. As they neared the township, the younger man pulled up the hood of his jerkin, casting his well-formed features into deep shadow. His companion straightened from his usual slouching posture, alert and ready for anything they might encounter.
The colony of Roanoke lived up to all their expectations. The houses were of rough wood and, at this early hour, seemed to be mostly deserted. In a place like this where candles and lamp oil were as rare as gold dust, people used every hour of sunlight available. A few crying children could be heard, along with mother's voices raised in shouts or singing and the occasional childish giggle. If they saw the newcomers from their windows, they made no noise or sign, leaving them to pass unnoticed between the houses.
As if expecting this, the travellers made their way onwards, towards a slightly larger house, standing on the very limits of what had to be called the town. This house was also deserted, so they passed it by and carried on towards the estate. They were within two hundred yards of the boundary hedge when a sound made them both look upwards. Above them, a figure swooped and dived, dancing through the air on wings of the whitest snow. It hovered above them for a moment, then sped away, back towards the manor house.
"I guess we don't have to announce ourselves." The younger man said.
This was proved true as they passed through the estate's gate and began to make their way up the long path. Even from this distance, the pale wings were clear, glowing in the shadow of the porch. Beside them, two smaller figures were visible and, as they watched, a third, taller man joined the group.
"Welcoming committee, d'you think?"
"Could be. We ain't gonna find out standin' here, are we?"
As they got closer to the house, the shadowed figures came into focus. One of the shorter shapes emerged as a seated man. The other was also a man, crouched on his haunches. Despite this, he was clearly of a great size, his massive hands the size of most men's heads. The small group watched their visitors advance with no sign of surprise or fear, both of which reactions the pair were accustomed to. When they reached the bottom of the steps, the younger man bowed extravagantly.
"Bonjour. A fine day, non? Do I 'ave the pleasure of addressing Monsieur Carlos Javier?"
"I am Javier," said the seated man, "and these are my pupils. Hal McCoy," he indicated the giant at his side, "Weren." The man with the wings of an angel inclined his head a fraction. "And Scotius Sumerisle." The final member of the group would have been a fine looking youth if it were not for the red glass that covered his eyes. Despite this, the angle of his head and the set of his jaw suggested that he was giving the newcomers a hard stare.
"Je suis Remus LeBeau," the young man said. "An' my hairy friend here, when he deigns to be addressed, goes by the name of Logan. We have come a great distance to find you, and your pupils."
"Then I hope we will not disappoint." Javier nodded for them to approach. "Please, come in and tell us what could be important enough to bring you all the way here from…" he left the sentence open.
"As I said, a great distance." Remus smiled, avoiding the obvious question. "An' we are here on a matter of the greatest importance."
Once inside, Remus pulled the sling from his back and laid the bundle on a low table. Only the grin on his face was visible under his low hood and he turned it on his hosts, who were subjecting him to the same close examination that he had given them. Knowing what they saw and possibly what they were thinking, his grin widened and he began unwrapping the package of cloths and furs.
"Normally, I'd sit down an' have a drink with you, earning my way wit' tall tales of excitement an' adventure. 'Cept I think you already seen more adventure than I can tell you about. An' we need a quick answer so's that, if you say no, we can be on our way.
As he finished, he pulled off the last layer of furs to reveal and intricately patterned wooden casket.
"May I?" Javier stretched out a hand and, at Remus' nod, pulled the box towards him, long fingers running over the carvings and inlaid veneers. "Fascinating. It's a puzzle box, is it not?" He pushed at one patch of maple which shifted under his thumb. "You have to get all the blocks in the right place in order to open it."
"Nearly. Get the blocks in the right places an' you'll find the keyhole. I 'ave the key."
"And just what are you protecting so zealously, may I ask?"
Remus, with a glance at Logan, answered with another question.
"How far 'ave you folks travelled?"
"We have all traversed the wide ocean to be here. Need you ask?"
"I'm talking about further than your homelands. Cos the thing in there comes from a lot further than Bonny England."
"Thing?" It was Scotius who spoke, hands resting lightly on the back of Javier's chair, leaning forwards enough to look down on the puzzle box through his strangely coloured glasses.
"Looks like I'm goin' to have a strange story to tell you after all."
"Just get on with it." Came a growl from by the fire. Logan had been warming his hands on the glowing logs, crouched down to make the most of the heat. He turned an impatient face on his companion. "We don't have time for this."
"We need a day's rest. Or I do, at least. No harm in makin' sure these good folks get the right idea, is there?"
The dark man grunted and turned his face back to the flames. Remus took a chair at the other end of the table and stretched out his legs.
"For once, you can believe every word I say. I'm sure Logan will correct me if I stray from the path." White teeth glowed in the shadow of his hood. "The thing we been carrying is too important to risk not tellin' you all you need to know. But I need to start by askin' how much you know about the Indus."
"Not much." Javier admitted. "I understand it is a largely unexplored land."
"Unexplored, maybe. Unpopulated it ain't. Right high up in the mountains there are tribes, temples and palaces you wouldn't believe. An' the mountains get pretty high. Most travellers, strictly unofficial ones, you comprends, don't make it past the foothills. The tribes make sure of that."
"But you managed it."
"We managed it." Remus's voice grew serious. "Cos we weren't the only ones. The peoples living up there on top of the world are said to have magical powers, to be able to cure all known diseases, maybe hold back death itself. Draws lots o'people, rumour like that does. An' they're not always the kind of people who deserve that kind of knowledge. For one thing, they don't ask nice."
Remus's Tale
(Transcribed at a later date by Henry McCoy, preserving the character and facts of the narrative, while eliminating the more colourful descriptive elements)
We found the village two days into the snows. The people had just started returning, trying to pick up the ruins of their lives. Something had ripped through the place, destroying their huts and killing anyone foolish enough to stand in the way. When we found them, they were too tired and stunned to run. They told us of two men, evil incarnate apparently, who had sought…something…and when they didn't find it, they tore the place apart. The head man begged us not to go after them, saying they must be demons in human form, unkillable and unstoppable.
So, of course, we just had to follow. It wasn't hard to pick up the trail of destruction, everywhere the same story. They moved fast, these afreets, as the villagers called them. Once, we worked out, they wiped out three whole villages and terrified four more in a single day. Even for men in a hurry that was impressive. And we knew they were men.
We had been put on their trail by a dying priest. His temple had been in one of the larger towns clustering at the bottom of the mountains, right on the river. He was the last guardian of a source of power so great that it took ten years of trainin' just to be able to look at it. Whoever took possession of the power became almost unstoppable, granted the strength of the gods. Only problem was, the power could not be contained in a human vessel and would eventually destroy the body unless its companion was also possessed. Two strangers had come from the outland, taken the source and destroyed the temple. The priest told us that they would now seek the companion piece before the host's body began to fall apart.
These power sources are in the form of two huge gems, one yellow, one red. The yellow, the Gem of Treorin, granted the power. The red, the Gem of Cyttorak, granted the ability to wield the great strength. The old man begged us to track down the thieves before they could find the second stone. Since it was on our way, we agreed.
It took us a week to catch a glimpse of them and another to work out their ultimate destination. And we were too late. The monks were doing their best to hold off the invaders, but they were losing the battle. So we did what we always do. I used my head while Logan used his fists. He drove them off far enough that I could get into the Temple compound and into the sanctuary. Once inside, the priests asked me to take the stone, get it far away from them to safety. What they didn't tell me was that the jewel has a way of claiming those who possess it and I had just made myself its guardian. Then and there, all I could think about was getting it out with myself and Logan in one piece. So I took the box and the key, put the Gem in it and ran.
Logan was taking a bit of a beating out at the gates. I didn't get away unbruised myself. But get away we did, high up into the mountains to a group of monks who were only too happy to help us. With the Gem, I could keep the others at bay, use its powers to confuse them and keep them off track. It couldn't last forever. So we came here. I heard that you're pretty good at confusing people. And we're going to need a whole lot of confusion to keep away those who want this.
Javier Estate, Roanoke, Virginia
There was silence for a while when Remus had finished. The box seemed to have grown as he spoke, looming over the group like a colossus. After a while, Javier said,
"It changes you? You said you became its guardian. What did it do to you?"
For answer, Remus reached up and pushed his hood back. The face underneath was pleasing and handsome, with the curving mouth that they had already seen set beneath a narrow straight nose and broad brow. Hair tumbled down, a rich auburn brown in colour, longer than average. It fell in waves, almost covering his eyes, which seemed to be the intention. The eyes that met Javier's were black as midnight, set with glittering red irises that flared and shone. It was like looking at two glowing embers on a bed of black coals. Remus smiled.
"I know what you're thinkin' but that isn't it. These pretties I was born with an' I consider myself lucky not have been drowned at birth." The smile was self-deprecating but with a hard, bright quality. "The gem just draws more out o'me."
"You're Witchbreed. That's why you came to me."
"You think?" The sarcastic grin was starting to get irritating. Javier felt Scotius' hands twitch on the back of his chair. "I'm impressed. You spotted it right off, didn't you. Nope, no foolin' you people."
"That's enough." Logan's voice cut through and Remus fell silent. "Don't annoy the people we want to help us."
"Point taken." Remus grew serious again. "This thing has to be kept safe, one way or another. An' the way it suggested was for us to come to you."
"It suggested?" There was scepticism in Javier's voice.
"Oui. This thing, it's got power of its own. If you know how, you can use it to know things, see things, do things. I know how." The statement was made without conceit. Instead, the weariness in Remus' voice made Javier look up.
"I get the impression that this is not entirely a blessing."
"Not always." Remus admitted. "Though some of the bonuses are great." He flashed his smile again.
By the fire, Logan twitched impatiently.
"When you two are done fencin', maybe you'll get around to making a decision."
For answer, Javier reached out and put a hand on the Gem. It glowed at his touch, as did Remus's eyes, and Javier felt something humming through it and him. The thing did not have a mind, as such. What it had was power and strength, and in that instant, Javier knew it could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Assuming it hadn't already.
Across the table, Remus threw his head back and laughed.
"Very good, mon ami. Suspicious, calculating and intrigued. Good combination. But whether these are the right hands or not, the situation stays the same. Will you help?"
"I think," Javier said slowly, "I would like Sir Reed Richards to see this. His scientific capabilities far outstrip my own."
"Fine." Remus lifted the Gem back into its box and snapped the lock shut. "When do we leave?"
Two hours later, the Frenchman's smug smile had faded, leaving him looking bored and tired. Reed had been bouncing light in and out of the stone for twenty minutes, apparently fascinated by its facets. If any of the others shared his fascination, it had long since worn off during the many tests that had been carried out. Remus in particular looked as though he was about ready to jump out of the window, although he had settled for perching on the ledge, looking out onto the rolling fields of the island.
As the light faded, Reed sat back, stretching out an arm to retrieve his notebook from the other side of the room.
"Amazing."
"Oui, you said that already. And fascinatin', and incredible. We may suppose that you are impressed?"
"Very. How long have you had it?"
"Near on eight months now, and it has me, not the other way around."
This caught the scientist's attention.
"You mean it exerts a controlling force on you?"
"Not so much." Remus shifted round, trying to find the right words. "It is more as though it's inside my mind, prodding me in the right direction. It is not alive, and it cannot speak, but I can feel its presence all the time."
"And yet you bring it here for me to destroy?"
"No!" the young man jumped down from the window sill. "Pas de tout. The last thing I want is for this thing to cease to be."
"If it is so powerful and evil, why not seek a means to destroy it?"
"Because I have a strong interest in seeing it preserved. The strongest interest there is." His strange eyes met Javier's and the older man understood. He could not yet read the mind clouded by such power, but the expression in his eyes was perfectly understandable.
"Your life is linked to the Gem." At the confirming nod, Javier went on, "When you became its keeper, you and it became joined somehow, so that were it to be destroyed, it would kill you."
"Oui. It and me, we can't be separated easily now. Oh, it can be done, but there's a whole lot of chanting and ceremony got to be done first."
"What would happen if you were killed?" Reed asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"It'd take the next person who touched it as its Keeper." Remus laid a hand on the top of the stone, which glowed slightly at his touch. "She's tres fickle, this femme. An' she needs blood to keep going, to keep her anchored in this world." At their blank looks, he explained, "The gem has the power to break through this flesh and blood world, into ones beyond, be they heavens or hells." When he paused, as though waiting for questions, Reed nodded his understanding.
"We are more familiar with the concept of worlds beyond this one than you might expect. Go on, please."
"Well, the Gem needs a human keeper, both of them do, to make sure they stay in this world, and to keep them under control, as far as that's possible. That's my job. Only problem been that there never been a keeper before with my…gifts."
"Who was Witchbreed, you mean?"
"Exactement. And it does things to you, changes you in ways you might not think. I think I can control what it's doing better than most keepers before me, just because of that."
"And what is it doing?"
Remus paused, removing his hand and letting the glow die out again. "You remember I told you that the Gem of Treoris grants great strength."
"Aye. And this one the ability to yield it." Henry, who had been silent thus far, bounced up with sudden understanding. "This gem has granted you the power to better control your gifts, whatever they may be since you have not seen fit to confide in us as yet. Astonishing that something designed for an entirely different purpose should have succeeded in adapting itself for a new environment. It must have sensed the power in you and reacted accordingly. Remarkable." He subsided again, under the others' amused glances.
"Monsieur le bete there is right, but he's got a funny way of puttin' it. This thing hasn't done much for what I can do, only the way I can do it. And if anyone so much as thinks the word fascinating again, I'm packing it up and taking it away right now."
"Relating to that," Reed said, as though he had not heard the warning, "how long do you intend to remain in Roanoake?"
"Not sure. We need a day or so to rest and gather supplies. Then we're off North. Logan here has friends up there, and I have people who don't actively hate me, which is as close as I come to the same. We're going to take this thing up there and see if they can do anything with it."
"I see." Absentmindedly, Reed wound his arms round himself and behind his head, presenting a strange picture to his guests. "Would you allow me to keep this overnight? I believe there is a town council meeting today, after which-" he broke off, with a glance at Javier, who nodded. "After which, you may have some who would accompany you and assist you."
"We don't need your assistance." The voice was barely a growl from the corner. Logan had remained silent throughout the experiments, watching the group with badly concealed hostility.
"Really?" Reed said mildly. "Then perhaps you might assist us. I imagine there would be those who would be most grateful for contacts in the North."
"Fini, Logan." Remus told him. "Ici, c'est le bon endroit à etre, la bonne chose à faire. Trust me." This earned him a grunt from his friend, who settled back, much as Henry had done. Remus turned to Javier. "Look, we've been cooped up in here half the morning and Logan here doesn't do enclosed spaces very well. What about we leave the Gem with you to play with and see you all later on?"
"If you are happy to do so." From the corner of his eye, Javier could see Reed unwrapping his arms and eager to start work again.
"You can't do nothing to it without me knowing, and you can't take it anywhere I can't follow. We'll be around later on, probably once we get hungry." With a grin to Javier and a nod to Reed, Remus headed for the door, closely followed by his shorter friend. "If you need us, just call."
Once they were gone, Javier settled back to watch Reed and Henry prod and poke the Gem with every kind of test imaginable. His mind wandered down and out, following the two men as they left the tower. He could not penetrate either of their minds, but their presence was unmistakable. He stayed with them as they settled on the grass around the tower, talking in low voices, too low for him to eavesdrop. Despite the mysterious and possibly dangerous ramifications of their presence in Roanoake, he was inclined to trust what they told him, however sure he was that it was not the whole truth. And whatever the outcome of the town council, he knew that Peter had been right the night before. This place was no longer safe for him and his children. All they needed was an excuse to leave, unwittingly provided by these two strangers. Recalling his mind from such melancholy thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter in hand, offering suggestions and advice as the experiment progressed.
Down on the field, Remus and Logan sat watching the clear blue sky. They were quite still for some time, not speaking or moving, just enjoying the peace and calm. From the doorway of the tower, Lady Susan Richards watched them, hardly daring to breathe herself for fear of being sensed. In the years they had spent here, she had learnt to control the degree to which she could or could not be seen, and while she could not yet become completely visible, she could force herself into visibility. She didn't do this very much, as others tended to find it even more disconcerting, being able to see her and see through her at the same time. But it helped for going down into the town or when they had company at the Tower. She also felt it was important that Franklin had some kind of idea of his mother's face, even if it was only a vague one.
Now, lurking in the tower doorway, she willed herself into absolute transparency. Even Reed would have had a hard time finding her like this. She watched as the two men stood and shed their coats, as if preparatory to exercise. And indeed, the taller of the two began to move, slowly at first, taking careful steps and moving his arms in an unfamiliar pattern. His companion watched, nodding with approval and offering advice and instructions, which were followed with an adjustment of an arm or a foot. Susan had never seen anything like the routine now before her. It reminded her vaguely of court dances from long ago, the steps and paces formal and practiced, yet they were like no dance that she knew. It seemed that the man was fighting with an unseen enemy and that both were moving in slow motion.
The movements became faster and more graceful, bringing to mind acrobats of the circuses that had visited London during Susan's childhood. The young man had the look of one of them, slim in the waist and broad in the shoulders, with a grace to every movement. He finished the routine under the older man's watchful eye, and earned a nod of approval as reward. The sun was high, now, and the day was beginning to warm. The athlete's face was flushed with heat, and Susan felt her own cheeks warm as he pulled off his loose tunic, retightening the belt of his breeches. Beneath the rough wool he was, as she had suspected, well muscled and slim, his olive skin showing the signs of regular physical exertion. It showed other signs too. Pale scars crisscrossed his shoulders and torso, standing out against his swarthy complexion.
Once recovered from her initial embarrassment, Susan studied the marks more carefully, sure that they would tell her more than he had done. She guessed that he had been on board ship, to judge by the marks that she knew must have been caused by a whip or cat o'nine tails, their thin lines quite distinctive. It was also a not unreasonable assumption that he had been on the wrong side of the law at one time or another, as there were burn marks on his arms probably the result of hot brands. Across these were narrow straight lines that were probably sword cuts, most likely the result of duels and fights. As he turned, she saw that his chest and stomach were less marked, except for three parallel stripes, running down from his left shoulder and disappearing beneath his belt on his right side. She knew of no weapon that left such a distinctive signature. If the smaller mystery was solved, she was still left with the question of how so young a man – for he could not be more than two and twenty – could have come by so much damage.
There was no time to ponder this further, as the exercise class had started again. A straight branch from a nearby tree had been pulled and stripped bare, and was now being used in a similar set of movements as before. This time the speed increased much more quickly, the staff blurring in the air as he swung it round his head and back. The other man offered no comments this time, just standing and watching the performance. It seemed to Susan that they were far too close for comfort, and that one of them would get a nasty shock if the staff should slip. The routine was coming to a finish and she could see her suspicions were right, as the younger man span and swung the staff down towards his companion's head. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to fight not to gasp aloud as he brought his weapon to a stop barely an inch from the shorter man's nose.
Then they both grinned and more words passed between them. The older man seemed pleased by the performance and clapped the youth on the shoulder. Susan was torn between wanting to ask them both about a thousand questions and the need to keep her presence secret. To her relief, instead of coming back inside, Logan was heading out towards the woodland that covered the west of the island, his loping gait giving him the look of a small bear or large wolf. Remus was bending to retrieve his discarded tunic when he stopped, his head whipping round towards the tower.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" He stood, looking directly at and through Susan. His hand came to rest on the staff which he had stuck in the ground, pointing at the sky. "Who's there?"
For a moment, Susan contemplated staying where she was, knowing that he could not possibly see her. But there was something in his eyes, voice and manner that told her he knew exactly where she was and was not going to just stand there and wait for her to show herself. So she stepped out of the porch, letting herself fade back into the near visibility that she found easiest to maintain. Others had told her it was like trying to see a spider's web or gossamer, a substance that was there only when you concentrated hard enough. Yet this man fixed his eyes on her the moment she appeared, and seemed to have no difficulty in following her progress across the grass.
"Madame Richards?" He gave a sketch of a courtly bow.
"Monsieur LeBeau." Susan held out a hand which he took and kissed. "I did not mean to intrude."
"How long have you been there?" He had not let go of her hand, and his eyes were sparkling red.
"Some time." Unsure if his tone was amused or not, Susan took a risk and said, "Long enough to be impressed."
"It seems to run in your family." The mouth curled into a smile and he released her hand. He turned away and bent for his tunic, still not speaking as he pulled it over his head.
"Where did you learn all that?"
"All what? Oh, that." The smile faded. "Can't rightly tell you where. Somewhere in the mountains, high above the Indus. But Logan's the one you want to talk to if you're interested."
"Interested? In learning that?" Susan couldn't keep the surprise from her voice.
"Of course. No reason a woman shouldn't be able to do it as well as a man. It's not about strength, just skill."
Susan wasn't convinced and didn't try to keep it from her face. She enjoyed the fact that few people could make out her true expression.
"Now don't look like that," Remus wagged his finger at her. "It's not nice. Would I lie to you?"
"I hardly know you well enough to say." Recovered from her surprise, Susan returned the lopsided smile. "Where did your friend go?"
"Just off on his own for a bit. He needs to clear his head every now and then, get away from people for a while. He'll be back when he's ready."
"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything else to say to that. Falling back into her duties as hostess, Susan asked, "Can I get you anything? Food or drink of some kind."
"Not now, merci. There a stream or river anywhere near here? It's hot work and I could do with cooling off a bit. Somewhere without an audience." He added pointedly.
Unperturbed, Susan pointed away from the Tower. "There's a small brook about a mile or so that way. It's surrounded by woodland, and I make no guarantees about onlookers."
"Merci, Madame." He bowed to her again and pulled his staff from the ground. "If you need me, you know where to find me."
Swinging the stick over his shoulder, he set off in the direction she had indicated. From his posture and manner, you would have thought he had not a care in the world. Yet the marks on his body and the Gem sitting in her husband's workshop told a different story. Susan had a feeling that getting to know this young man, and his mysterious friend, was going to be harder than it looked.