Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [101]
Gwen considered that, as all of them, mortal and fae, watched her expectantly. “I’m not likely to give land away, for all that Father’s given me the right to. I’ll be having a bargain of this.” Inside, she shook at her own temerity, daring to bargain with the Other Folk. But they didn’t respect anyone who didn’t bargain, at least, not in the tales. Cataruna repeated her words in the language of Annwn. The Lady nodded, as if she had expected this.
Gwen considered every possible way in which she could phrase her bargain. The good part was that this area hadn’t been claimed for farming, and any herders who were using it could come to King Lleudd for other grazing lands. But the point was, if she closed this—treaty, she supposed it must be—she’d be opening this place to who knew what sorts of dangerous creatures. And even if, as some claimed, the beings of Annwn were not fae at all, but just mortals with a great deal of the Gift and the Power and some ugly odd shapes . . . well, that made them all the more dangerous.
“Tell the Lady . . .” She faced the speaker squarely and looked into her cold eyes, the color of lake water before a storm, and she did not, not for a single moment, doubt that the Folk of Annwn were not of the world she knew. “Lady, this is the bargain I will be having. By the right my father, King Lleudd, gave to me as a war chief and able to make grant of land, I give you and yours this valley, to be covered with water and made your own. In return I will be having this: No creature that lives here is ever to take a child, a youngling, a maiden, or a woman. No creature that lives here is ever to take a man that comes in peace, with no ill will toward my people or those of Annwn, nor those that pledge to the High King.”
There was muttering behind her, discontent from those dark shapes that would not let themselves be seen. Anger, even, of a sort that put the hair up on the back of her neck. Nevertheless, she continued. “But for those that would trouble my people, and those that will not pledge to the High King, or those that are oathbreakers of that pledge, whether they are an army bringing upon them war and sorrow or merely thieves and rogues who would bring them loss and grief, should they put so much as one toe in your waters, they are yours. Take them, drown them in deep waters, harry them across the marsh, drive them mad with fear and despair. That is my bargain. Take it, or not.”
Cataruna repeated all she had said, but the Lady had already nodded as if she understood it all, and turned back to the others.
Gwen waited patiently, feeling colder by the moment, as the otherworldly creatures conferred. The mist roiled darkly around all of them now, and the sounds of their voices rose and fell. Both Cataruna and Ifan looked a little bewildered, as if they had not truly expected this to happen.
Well, and I cannot blame them. Who would? She had never seen these beings even once in her life before—though both of them surely would have, the Ladies, at least. But the others? Who did she know had ever confessed to seeing a Swan Maid or a Water Horse? And to see so many of them . . .
And then to have the temerity to bargain with them?
She reminded herself of who she was doing this for. And why.
Finally, the muttering stopped. The Lady turned back to them and sang. Gwen did not need Cataruna’s translation. It was a bargain.
She stooped, seized a handful of the soil at her feet, and took a little knife from a sheath in her boot—not iron or steel, which was anathema to these folk, but a flint knife she used for skinning game, for it was easier to keep at a razor edge. She cut her thumb across and bled onto the handful of dirt,