mistressmaryquitecontrary

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It's been a fairly pleasant evening in the bar with her book, and Mary is trotting back to the greenhouse in the dark, the remnants of a milkshake moustache on her upper lip and her complete Shakespeare tucked under her arm.

She's hurrying, a little - it's cold - but only a little; the stars are reflecting off the lake, and it really is all awfully pretty.

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"She is not magic anymore, but she is still evil - and clever. And she will likely only be more angry because she has no magic, and want to hurt people more."

So, in other words: yes.

"No magic, and yet still she is dangerous? How, I begin to wonder, might that be the case?"

He is silent for a moment, weighing options.

"Though I also wonder how I should recognize her, so that she and I might not cross paths with me all unawares."

Mary gives him a slightly startled look.

"You do not need magic to be dangerous - it is only stupid to think that. It helps but you do not need it.

"There were other people with lots more magic than the witch, but she was still more dangerous than they were. It is about being clever."

A small shrug, of thin shoulders.

"It is hard to recognize her from other people. She looks kind. You cannot tell."

"Ah. Clever. How could I forget."

And again his smile is more sardonic than amused.

But only just.

"And shall you put me in a room with other men, is there no way you might distinguish me from those others? For example."

"Yes," Mary says, patiently. "Your face is different - it is sharper than some people's and not as sharp as others'. And you are taller than some people and not as tall as others. But it is hard to say."

And now Galadan laughs--not a short, sharp bark of sound, either, but something infinitely richer and almost warm.

"You would seem to have an interesting way of looking at the world, Mary."

Another man might almost call it refreshing.

Mary shrugs - quite honestly puzzled.

"It is just what is. I only say what is."

"Would that more were like you."

He does mean that.

"Too often people slip to spinning tales that have little to do with what is real."

"Stories are all right when you know they are stories," Mary proclaims. "In books. Though they are better if they are true.

"It is only bad when people pretend that it is true when it is not - then it is lying."

"And what shall you do with that sort of people, then?"

He sounds honestly curious.

Mary opens her mouth, and then pauses, taking a long moment to consider this.

"I do not know that I should wish to do anything with them," she says, finally, with a scowl in her voice.

"I cannot make them stop lying. I can only not listen to them, and tell everybody else not to, either."

Galadan smiles.

"We have, I believe, spoken of this before. Your points stands now much as it did then."

He appreciates her point, to be certain.

Then, as if it is a detail he had forgotten--

"Ah, I had meant to tell you, also, that I have made the acquaintance of at least one of those you mentioned to me. He is an interesting boy, to be sure, the young not-prince."

He takes a bare moment to study Mary and her reactions.

"Bran, was it?"

"Yes - Bran," Mary says, and looks rather pleased; though whether this is because she approves of Bran meeting Galadan, or because she's rather pleased to have known something before someone else, is hard to tell.

(Both, in fact.)

"He is my friend."

"Is he? I would count you both lucky, then."

He smiles, just slightly.

"If you will permit me to use the term, of course. Bran seemed to have some objection to it."

Mary looks a little startled.

"What - lucky?"

Mary hasn't heard of this objection before.

Galadan nods.

"It does seem an odd thing for a King's son to object to. Though he might, I suppose, have been one of the sort that feels all men should start life equal in station and worthy, without inherent advantages."

Beat.

"You did say, after all, that he had chosen not to be a prince, did you not?"

"Oh - he was not raised as a Prince," Mary says, tossing her head.

"His other father keeps sheep. So he did not have the - inherent advantages," she says, sounding out the words carefully, "that makes other princes often act stupid."

Galadan's eyebrows go up, but only briefly.

"Raised a shepherd, but secretly a prince. It does sound much like a fairy story, you must admit."

He does not quite sound disbelieving.

Not quite.

This is in no way deliberate.

Mary bristles ever so slightly.

(Mary, alas, is occasionally as predictable as the day is long.)

"It is true. It is Mr. Lyon who brought him there; and he is Merlin really, and I know he can do magic. So."

One of Galadan's eyebrows goes up a little farther.

"And why would Merlin have an interest in Bran, I wonder?"

Not, of course, that Galadan can't guess.

Merlin was only ever interested in one man, after all. And it would explain, perhaps, why Bran is not in any of the stories that Galadan has heard.

"Because he is the son of King Arthur," Mary says, patiently.

"I have books on King Arthur; some of them are better than others, though. Some of them," with scorn, "are for children only and do not say the truth."

"Ah. That would explain it, right enough."

Galadan is, at this moment, regarding Mary very speculatively indeed.

"And should you mind showing me these books someday? I have quite an interest in collecting permutations of various stories. We do, you see, tell of Arthur in my own world. I don't think I had imagined the tale spreading so far as this, however."

Mary nods.

"I will bring them with me next time. I will," she offers, "leave the bad one for you - for I do not need it now."

Mary is so generous.

"I would, I believe, appreciate even the bad one."

One corner of his mouth curves in a smile.

He does like this child, if only for her usefulness as a font of information.

"Though if you might have the time to show me the others, even if you take them back with you again, I would appreciate that, as well."

"If I see you when I have them, I shall," Mary says, with a decisive nod, and looks down at the book in her arms.

"This is not about Arthur - it is only Shakespeare. It is very useful but not the same."

Galadan nods, glancing down at the book, as well.

"No, but his stories are entertaining, all the same. Perhaps you will share those with me sometime, as well."

He bows, then, stepping out of Mary's path.

"I should not keep you out in the snow much longer, Mary. But I do thank you for the offer of the books. I'll look forward to our next meeting."

Oh, he will. Very much so.

"It is no trouble," Mary says - quite amiably, for Mary - and heads on towards the greenhouse, thinking that Galadan is quite nice overall, even if he doesn't know how to get out of the way when people are walking.

But he listens, which is important. Lots of people don't.

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