by Malinda Lo
The second time Con threw the rope Kaede caught it, rough and wet, in her right hand. She struggled to wrap it around Taisin’s waist, and several desperate minutes later, after they had been dragged another twenty feet downstream, she succeeded, and Con began to pull them onto the bank. When her feet touched the riverbed again, Kaede put her arms around Taisin’s motionless body and picked her up, the weight of her partially supported by the water, and carried her until Con met her and helped lay Taisin down on the riverbank. They pushed at Taisin’s chest, hard, until water bubbled out of her mouth and her eyes opened. She coughed, rolling over, and Kaede helped her up onto her hands and knees, her body convulsing as she spit the water out of her lungs. Taisin began to shake with cold, and Kaede said to Con, “We need to build a fire.”
He pulled a mostly dry bedroll out from within the gear packed onto his horse and tossed it to Kaede. “I’ll find firewood,” he said. “You need to get her out of those wet clothes.” He had stripped off his own shirt and was pulling on another, drier one, but he did not bother to change out of his wet trousers before heading off into the trees.
Kaede began to unbutton Taisin’s tunic, pulling the heavy, wet cloth away from her chilled skin. Goose bumps rose on Taisin’s shoulders when she felt the air, and she shivered more violently. Kaede pulled the blanket toward them and draped it over Taisin, who attempted to unlace her boots with numb fingers. “Just sit there,” Kaede ordered, throwing the wet tunic aside. “I’ll do that.” She listened to Taisin’s chattering teeth as she worked the wet laces, wanting to curse at the knots Taisin had tied. But at last she had them undone and pulled the soaked leather off, and as she reached for the clasps that fastened Taisin’s trousers, Taisin put her hands on Kaede’s to stop her.
“Thank you,” Taisin said. Her lips were bluish-purple, her fingers like icicles.
All of a sudden, Kaede realized she was she was staring at Taisin, stripped to the waist, the medallion like a black eye hanging around her neck. Her face was white as snow but for rough red spots burning on her cheeks, and Kaede felt herself flush in response.
They heard Con returning, his footsteps seeming inordinately loud. Taisin pulled the blanket around her bare shoulders, covering herself, and Kaede backed away, sitting on her heels. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said awkwardly. She looked away; she looked at the river that had almost taken Taisin away from them. From her.
It was deceptively beautiful, for being such a monstrous thing.
They staked out the horses close to the fire, where Taisin sat huddled in the blanket. Kaede hung the kettle over the flames, and before night fell she had brewed tea for them all to sip, crouching close to the blaze.
“Everything’s going to be wet for days unless we stay here tomorrow,” Con said. “We’ll have to lay everything out on the riverbank and hope they dry.”
“Is it safe to stay here?” Kaede asked. “What was it like in the Wood?” She glanced at the trees nearby; the low light turned all colors into shadows upon shadows.
“It looked no different than the Wood south of the river. It might be a good idea to stay here and scout around a bit—see if there is a trail. We can leave our things here to dry while we explore this bank.”
“Tonight, at least, all we have to do is eat and sleep,” Kaede said. “That was not an easy crossing.” She put down her cup and went to retrieve supplies for supper. But just at the edge of the camp she saw something that made her halt. There was a horse and rider, nearly obscured by the twilight. And then she saw another beside him. “Taisin,” Kaede said in a low voice. “Con. Look.”
Taisin and Con scrambled to their feet. Con’s sword rang as he pulled it out of its scabbard.
More riders emerged out of the dusk, ghostlike, until they had surrounded the camp. As they came closer they seemed to take on something of a glow. They were tall and pale, with white clothing and eerie, sparkling eyes. Some of them wore swords on their belts; others had quivers of arrows strapped to their backs. There were men and women both, but they all shared the same otherworldly beauty: hard and cold and perfect.
One of the riders pushed his horse a few steps closer to the three humans. He asked in a peculiar accent: “Who are you, and why have you crossed over into our lands?”
PART IV
Some seek to act upon the world,
But success will not follow.
The world is inviolable:
It has no beginning and no end.
Those who seek to change it will be changed;
Those who grasp onto stones will find water.
—Book of Changes
Chapter XXVII
Kaede couldn’t tear her eyes away from the riders. They were the most foreign-looking people she had ever seen, and she didn’t feel fear so much as curiosity and a rising excitement. Were these the Xi at last?
In answer to their question, Con stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “I am Con Isae Tan, prince of the Kingdom. Are you representatives of the Xi?”
The rider who had spoken inclined his head. “We are. Why are you here?”
“I have come at the invitation of your queen. Will you allow me to show you the invitation?”
“Show us, then.”
Con went to his saddlebags to retrieve the invitation, still ensconced in its intricately carved box. He handed it to the rider, who opened it and unrolled the scroll. “This is an invitation for King Cai, not you.”
“I am his only son,” Con said. “He has sent me in his stead.”
The rider gazed at him, expressionless, and Con felt perspiration rising on his forehead. The man’s blue eyes were so penetrating that Con had difficulty maintaining his composure. Finally the rider said, “Come closer, princeling.”
Con moved toward him, and to his surprise, the rider dismounted. Con halted, unsure of what to do, and the rider walked slowly around him, examining him as if he were a new dog, acquired for a particular purpose. Con had the disconcerting feeling that the man might pry open his mouth and examine his teeth, but then the rider only asked, “Who are your companions?”
Con let out his breath in relief. He had apparently passed some kind of test. “They are representatives from the Council of Sages.”
“The Council of Sages,” he said. “I have not heard of them in… many of your generations.”
All the riders’ eyes flickered to Taisin and Kaede, and Kaede felt as though she had just been buffeted by a strong wind. She stepped back, startled by the force of their gaze. Their leader came to look at her, circling her as he had done to Con. His eyes narrowed on her as if he saw something odd, and for a long moment they locked on hers. She stared back, fascinated—she had never seen eyes of such deep blue—and just as she began to wonder why he was so interested in her, he turned away and moved on to Taisin.
Taisin had watched with growing anxiety as he examined Con and Kaede as if they were fantastical creatures. When he approached her, she felt his curiosity ripple through the meridians between them, and then it sharpened, his eyes focusing on her. He came closer and extended a hand until his fingertips nearly touched her chest. She felt the medallion, hidden beneath her tunic, suddenly burning against her skin. “What do you have there?” he asked.
Wordlessly, her skin buzzing where the medallion radiated heat, she pulled the chain over her head and held it out to him. In his hand, the stone took on a dull light as if it were awakening at his touch. He gazed at it, and she saw him clench his jaw just slightly. “This is not yours to keep,” he said. “But you shall wear it until our queen tells you otherwise.” He placed it over her head so quickly she barely had time to notice how close he was—a glimpse of the paleness of his throat—and then he moved away and the chain was warm around her neck again.
Behind him several of the riders dismounted and moved toward their belongings as if to take them. “What are you doing?” Con asked, startled.
The man turned toward him and said, “You and your companions will come with us.”
“Where?” Con demanded.
“We will take you to your meeting with our queen.”
“Right now? It is nearly full night.”
The man gave him a tiny smile. “Your meeting is scheduled for Midsummer, and that is scarcely one week from now. We’ve no time to waste.”
“Wait,” Taisin said.
The leader turned. “Yes?”
“Who are you?”
He did not answer at first, and even looked back at the other riders as though they were sharing a secret. At last he said, “We are the Fairy Hunt. You may call me the Huntsman.”
They set off as soon as the horses were saddled, with the Huntsman riding in the lead. Though the Wood was pitch-black all around them, the riders of the Fairy Hunt stood out against the dark. Kaede thought that it wasn’t exactly as if they glowed, but rather there was a lightness about them. Their skin was almost translucent, and she could swear she saw the texture of their muscles moving beneath it. She wondered if their blood was red like hers, or if it was some other queer color. Did it flow as thickly as mercury, or was it thin as water? She had never felt so different from someone in her life.
The Xi stopped only to allow their human charges to relieve themselves, and they would have continued without further pause until Con insisted that they be allowed to rest their horses and to eat. Dawn was breaking by then, and the Wood was slowly coming into light. Kaede was exhausted and her stomach growled, and she felt almost too tired and light-headed to find her way from her horse to their supplies. The Hunt had dismounted, too, and the riders were ranged around the three of them in a loose ring, as if to prevent them from running away. Kaede did her best to ignore them as she pulled out their food. They were down to eating biscuits, now, dried hard and nearly tasteless. She took one and handed the tin to Con and Taisin, who looked as tired as she felt. “Tea,” Kaede muttered to them. “I’ll start the fire.”
The Xi watched her curiously as she began to gather wood, but as she approached the edge of their ring, one of them stopped her and asked, “Where are you going?”
“I need to find more wood to build a fire,” she said, raising her eyes to the slender man’s blue ones. She shivered.
The rider looked behind her and said something to one of the others in a language she did not understand, then turned back to Kaede. “Fire is all you need?” he said, his eyebrows raised as if he were amused. He opened his hand and there, in his palm, a flame danced for her.
She backed away. “I—I want to boil water.”
He cocked his head at her. He was younger than the one who led them, she noticed. His face was smooth as a baby’s; his hair like white silk capped over his shapely head. His full, pale pink lips curved upward in a smile, and she felt distinctly uncomfortable. He extended his arm, holding out the burning golden flame, and went toward the small pile of wood she had left on the forest floor, and set the pile alight.
Swallowing, Kaede set up the iron tripod and hung the kettle over the fire. It was as hot as any natural fire, but it did not eat away at the wood; instead, it licked at the fallen branches, almost caressing them. But it still caused the water to boil—perhaps more quickly, even—and the tea tasted no different than it had the day before. Con, Taisin, and Kaede squatted on the ground around the fire, for it was good to feel its warmth, and Kaede tried to soften her biscuit in the tea before she ate the rest of it.
Some of the Xi came a bit closer to observe them, but most seemed to rapidly lose interest in their activities and began to pace back and forth, eager to move on. The young one who had started the fire came close enough to lean over Kaede’s shoulder and look at the biscuit in her hand. He asked, “What is that called?”
There was a disconcerting gleam in his eye, as if he wanted to have a bite of her rather than the biscuit. Before she could answer, the Huntsman called to him in a sharp tone of voice, and the young one looked briefly petulant before he withdrew, going back to the edge of the circle of riders.
When they finished eating, they packed their cups and kettle back into their saddlebags, and the Huntsman snuffed out the fire. He passed his hands over the flames once, and then the woodpile was bare and cold, not burned at all. Kaede wondered if it would even be warm if she touched it. “It is time to leave,” he said, and though his voice was barely louder than a whisper, all of the Hunt turned in unison to their horses, prepared to go.
They rode steadily that day, stopping only when Con or Kaede or Taisin requested it. The Xi did not seem to eat; nor did their horses seem to need any rest. Kaede felt Maila tire as the day progressed, but she continued on as if compelled. The trees around them began to change as they left the river behind. Oak trees gradually gave way to evergreens. The evergreens grew taller and taller. By late afternoon, they were riding through a forest of trees with trunks wider than the length of the wagon they had left behind in Jilin. The branches drooped down at them, heavy with soft, dark green needles. The colors here were richer than they had been south of the river, where half the trees had turned brown from lack of sunlight. The sky was still gray here, but there was something different about the quality of the air. It was warmer, for one thing, almost as warm as it should be at midsummer. But there was something else, too, and it visibly affected the members of the Fairy Hunt. The farther they rode from the Kell, the more the Xi seemed to shine. They were coming home.
At nightfall, worn to the bone and feeling as though she might fall asleep in the saddle, Kaede was relieved when the Huntsman stopped and told them they could set up camp. He had chosen a clearing near a brook that ran over a rocky streambed, and when Kaede knelt by its side to refill her water skin, the liquid was shockingly cold on her hands. The icy taste of it made her throat momentarily numb. She came fully awake and saw Con and Taisin, too, reeling from the water’s chill.
“We should drink that in the morning,” Con said, and Kaede laughed. Even Taisin, who was so tired she felt like her body had been dragged across that rocky streambed, couldn’t help but smile. The three of them looked at one another, and for a moment they felt entirely human again. Weary, hungry, and cold, but human. Kaede felt her muscles begin to relax. For all the strangeness of their escort, she had Con and Taisin with her, and they would do all right.
They slept soundly that night, curled up in their blankets near the Xi’s magical fire, the ghostly riders spread around them, again, in a ring. When she woke the next morning, Kaede lay there in silence for a while, blinking her eyes at the early light. Some of the riders were gone. Those who remained did not look like they had slept at all, but nor did they look tired. One of them saw that Kaede had awoken, and he nodded to her almost pleasantly—as if this were an entirely normal thing, for him to be guarding a group of sleeping, worn-out humans in the middle of the Great Wood. And she realized that yes, that was what they were doing—these Xi were guarding them. She and Taisin and Con were not prisoners. They were being protected.
The idea startled her. She rolled over onto her back, looking up at the sky cupped by the circle of trees around their camp. She thought there was something wrong with her eyes at first, and she blinked several times, but it was still there: On the edges of the bowl of sky, there was the faintest trace of blue.
Chapter XXVIII
They traveled for a week in the company of the Fairy Hunt. Kaede often watched the riders surreptitiously, marveling at the grace of their movements. They were like dancers, sinuous and light on their feet, yet there was always something about them that marked them as plainly inhuman. There was a curious play of light and shadow in their faces that made it difficult to understand their expressions. And when one of them looked at her, Kaede found it almost impossible to look away. It was disturbing.
One evening the Huntsman came and sat with them, and at first Taisin, Con, and Kaede simply stared at him, for none of the riders ever joined them at the fire. Finally Kaede, who had just finished eating her tasteless biscuit, blurted out, “Do you ever eat?” Immediately she colored, and
Con and Taisin tensed.
But the Huntsman only raised his eyebrows, and Kaede thought she recognized his expression. He was amused. “We eat,” he said. “But not while we are on duty.”
“Duty?” she repeated, her mouth dry.
“We eat when you sleep,” he explained.
“Oh.”
They all sat in silence for several more minutes, and then the Huntsman stood and walked away. Con, Taisin, and Kaede looked at one another in confusion.
“Why did you say that?” Con whispered.
“I don’t know,” Kaede whispered back. “Aren’t you curious?”
He gave her an exasperated look, and then Taisin reached out and put a hand on Kaede’s arm. Her skin tingled at Taisin’s touch. The Huntsman was returning, and he had something in his hand.
He held it out to them with something of a flourish. “Would you like to try some of our food?” he asked. Lying on an unfolded cloth was a square of something that was yellowish-white in color. To Kaede, it looked like a white bean cake, but there was something different about its texture.
“What is it?” Kaede asked. Taisin’s hand fell away, leaving a palpable sense of absence behind.
“Cheese,” he answered. With a bone-handled knife, he sliced off a small piece and offered it to her.
It tasted nothing like what she expected. It was savory rather than bland; it was chewy rather than soft. The sharp flavor lingered on her tongue after she swallowed it. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, but she tried to smile at the Huntsman and said, “Thank you.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
As they traveled north, the trees became taller, greener, stronger. And the quality of the light changed. It was as though all those layers of cloud were gradually being peeled away until, at last, on the sixth day they rode with the Xi, they saw the sun.
