The War of the Flowers

by Tad Williams

  "But why do they want to do something like that?"

  "I suspect it has something to do with power. You experienced the outage we had last night, I assume, or did you sleep through it?"

  "Power? Not political power, but you mean like . . . electricity?" Hollyhock looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. "Of course, that is the science of your world, isn't it? Here that word describes a discredited superstition of half a millennium past. Yes, the power that runs our society, lights our buildings, warms our rooms, and moves our vehicles. These outages — blackouts as some call them — have been getting more frequent and more serious. It is no coincidence, Master Vilmos, that the fiercest Excisor families are those that own the machineries of power production. For some reason, perhaps due to our rapid expansion and the growing demand, perhaps because of something more peculiar and less obvious, our science — and particularly those families — are having trouble meeting the power needs of our civilization.

  "What is known about the problem is that there is a connection between the growth of what your world calls technology there and the shortages here — that advances in scientific progress in the mortal world somehow cause setbacks here that are growing increasingly painful. Many people feel that your world and ours make a closed system — that we need your ignorance to keep ourselves strong. If so, this is a bad time for Faerie in more than one way. Humanity is slowly abandoning its old beliefs, the beliefs that give power to our world, at the very same time that our civilization is exponentially expanding its need for that power."

  The reference to the ignorance of mortals, even from this unusually welldisposed fairy, rankled a little, but it also reminded Theo of the deeper paradox that had been gnawing at him all day. They keep saying "you," and "your people," he thought, but that's the point, isn't it? I'm not a mortal at all, unless everyone here's lying to me . . . and that must have something to do with why I'm in the middle of this. But he had been raised to think of himself that way, and a lifetime's worth of self-image could not change in an instant — might not ever change. So how can I understand why these Excisors might want me when I can't think like they do?

  "I'm trying to follow all this," he said. "Really trying. You think that somehow they want to bring on this Dark Night thing, and then people — mortal people — will be, like, plunged back into the Middle Ages and get superstitious all over again? Make it easy for you fairies to draw power from us?"

  "Old Night. Perhaps that is what they want, yes. I confess I cannot see all the sides of the figure — it is a strange, complex plan, whatever it is, and one that has been years in the making — but it is the only thing that makes sense of what has happened."

  "And that somehow they need this Terrible Child — and me, too?" "Again, perhaps." Hollyhock sighed. "I am certain of only one thing — our opponents will not be contented merely to argue about it in the Parliament of Blooms in the ordinary way, or even at today's summit conference, as Daffodil and the other old guard seem to think. Neither will they be bluffed into giving up. Hellebore is a man of action. He relies on others to waste their time talking while he plunges ahead."

  Theo had momentarily forgotten the conference. Now the idea that the masters of the Hellebore and Thornapple families were going to be right here, in this place, made him feel nakedly vulnerable. He stared at the rain-spotted window of Hollyhock's suite. A series of drops joined together, formed a vertical stream. When they reached a small leaf stuck to the pane they did not push it out of the way but flowed around it. What was it Dolly Ogre called me? Shallow. Like that rainwater. Just going with the flow, sliding away, changing direction — whatever's easiest. Is that what Cat meant, too?

  Now here he sat, the World's Shallowest Man, in an utterly strange place with his very life at stake among these coldly selfish fairy-folk. He resolved to do better than he had done in the past. He also resolved for once to keep a resolution.

  "What about you?" Theo asked suddenly. "Why are you so different? How do I know you don't have your own agenda?" "Good question." Lord Hollyhock toyed with a piece of bread. "The answer is, I do have my own agenda, of course. But I'm one of the few whose agenda coincides with yours, Master Vilmos."

  "Why is that? And why should I take your word for it?" "I can only answer the second question by saying you shouldn't, but I'm afraid I can't offer you any proof. As to what we have in common, other than our basic essence, well, I am not really one of the old guard, although my family is a powerful one. My mother and father died during the last Flower War, so I have that reason to fear and distrust conflict between the families. Also, I am a radical of sorts, at least by comparison to most of the other house-lords. I do not believe we can trust the old patterns to hold things together, or that tradition is still the most important force in our society. We are a long-lived people and thus slow to change, but we do change. We must. And our society has not really been stable since the king and queen died — I suppose that will mean little to you, but it's true. Hellebore is another radical, but his ideas only benefit Nidrus Hellebore and people like him — a very small part of our folk. Not to mention what he would do to countless innocent mortals, against whom I have no grudge."

  Theo's concentration had snagged on the idea of the death of the king and queen, which he had read about in his great-uncle's book — that it had been their passing which had forced (or was it allowed?) the seven ruling families to take power in the first place. Whichever the case, it was all becoming a bit much, too many facts, too many confusing new ideas, and no matter what his blood might say, his mind still told him that he was a mortal: he was far more concerned with protecting his own skin, whatever its genetic heritage, than continuing a crash course on the Royalty of Faerie.

  "One more question," he said to Hollyock. "Were you the one who wanted me here? In . . . Faerie? And if that's true, why did you have Tansy do it instead of just doing it yourself?"

  Hollyhock made a graceful gesture of surrender. "I drive the others mad because when I believe something is important, I treat it that way. So, yes, if pushing and pushing until Daffodil and Lily and the others gave in and agreed to have you brought here from your world means I am responsible, then the blame is mine." He smiled a little. "I hope in the long run you will have cause to thank me rather than hate me, but the future is still churning in the Well. We could have brought you directly here — to this very house, if we had chosen — but such an expenditure of power, and of such a singular and unusual focus, would have drawn attention, especially when we knew you were already being observed by Hellebore and his allies. Tansy is one of the few men outside the city who has the skill to effect a thing such as this. His experiments are well-known, but even the most suspicious of the ruling families consider him a largely harmless eccentric — he does not dabble much in real politics, although he talks about it a great deal — and so I thought if he were the one to contact you and attempt to bring you through, it might go unnoticed." He frowned. "Apparently I was wrong. In any case, I put a little pressure on him through his cousin, Lord Daisy, and he finally agreed."

  "But not with everything you wanted."

  "Certainly he did not fulfill his charge with the care I would have desired. Imagine, sending only a sprite after you!"

  "She did pretty well," Theo said. "No, she did damn well." "In any case, Tansy began to be fearful when he heard about my nephew Dalian's death." Hollyhock's frown returned. "I still don't understand why they sent his heart to the Daisy clan. But whatever the case, he was in a panic and wanted to back out of the whole thing. It required Daffodil and Lily and some of the others exerting the full weight of their authority to get him to agree to keep his bargain with us."

  Theo sat back. He finally understood the change in Tansy's demeanor from irritation and what seemed like disinterest at first to an almost fawning kindness. It didn't explain everything, though. "So," he said after long silent seconds, "what's going to happen today? How do I really know Lord Dandelion and his pals won't sell me out t
o Hellebore? They sure don't think much of me."

  "Lord Dandelion." He grinned. "That is amusingly apt — I will remember that for the Parliamentary Follies, if such a happy, ordinary thing should occur this year. As far as them somehow betraying you, don't worry too much, Master Vilmos. I may be a young troublemaker as far as they're concerned, but I head one of the ruling families and am not easily ignored, even by an old warhorse like Daffodil. Also, they are finally beginning to feel nervous about Hellebore's machinations, whatever they say. They have heard the rumors of the Terrible Child. They know that such a thing only comes about by the application of a hideous science, by the study and practice of many forbidden things. You are a pawn, but until we know more, an important one. They will not give you up as easily as you fear."

  "Somehow that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better." Now Hollyhock laughed. He was quite likable for the master of a Flower house. Theo didn't know if that should make him suspicious or not. In any case, his suspicion-sensors were beginning to fatigue from overuse. "I've arranged for you to watch the whole thing from a safe part of the conference center," the fairy lord said. "You will not even be on the same floor of the building as Hellebore and his contingent. Come along, it's almost time for the show — I'll lead you to your seat."

  Theo stood. "Is there a way I can find someone who's staying here? It's Applecore — the sprite who got me here. She went off a while ago and I'm beginning to get a bit worried about her."

  "I will pass a message to the hob," said Hollyhock, leading him toward the door. "I am sure your friend will be found quickly. You are an important guest, after all, however it must sometimes seem."

  —————

  It was at least a ten minute walk from the lobby of the Daffodil housetower to the conference center, around the moat and along the edge of a memorial garden that seemed to be dedicated to the Daffodil clan's war dead, although which war was not specified; Theo was more than a little weary of fairy history and did not ask. He concentrated instead on enjoying the breeze and the muted afternoon sunshine, indulging his senses with what he would have thought of back in California as a typical autumn day. The air smelled of apples and something earthier, wet loam and leaves. The Daffodil House compound was huge and its grounds were carefully landscaped so as to look almost like wild forest and meadow: with his back to the four towers, the much lower conference center still hidden by hedges and old stone walls, Theo could almost forget where he was.

  There were not many people on the paths for some reason. A work gang of wrinkly little men digging away in a drained ornamental lake stood up to watch them pass, then touched their foreheads and turned back quickly to their jobs when they recognized Lord Hollyhock. Farther on, a group of male sprites were painting the detail-work on top of one of the ornamental lampposts beside the path, three on a brush, buzzing and chattering. They swept down and made a couple of circuits around Theo and Hollyhock, swift as a storm of midges. Their greetings sounded more mocking than respectful, but his lordship paid no more attention to them than he had to the diggers.

  The conference center was low compared to all the other buildings in the Daffodil complex, only four or five stories at its highest point, but that didn't make it small. It stretched over a large area inside the wall and had its own manicured gardens, less wild than the rest of the Daffodil grounds. It also seemed built in a more modern style, at least as far as Theo could tell: the outside walls were mostly glass or some Faerie equivalent, and the different buildings were connected by exterior catwalks and bridges, so that it looked a bit like a giant model of some unusually flat molecule.

  Even with the fairy lord accompanying him, Theo spent a rather long time being pressed and poked by unsmiling ogre security guards before being allowed to pass through the wide front doors. Hollyhock led him across a lobby full of busy functionaries in a variety of exotic shapes and into an executive elevator.

  "We could have walked up — it's only one floor — but you don't want all the folks gossiping on the stairs to see you," Hollyhock explained.

  The "seat" Theo had been promised for the proceedings proved to be in a corner office suite, two floors beneath the main meeting hall. This room was probably only thirty or forty feet off the ground, but the view outside its windowed outer wall was so dense with the tops of trees it was impossible to say for certain. The suite was empty but for a long table, a few chairs and other pieces of furniture, and a large greenish personage wedged firmly into a desk just inside the door.

  "I'll just leave you then, shall I?" said Hollyhock. "I've got a few things to attend to before the meeting begins."

  "And I just stay here, right?"

  "Oh, I should think so. If you need anything, Walter can help you." Hollyhock pointed to the thing behind the desk, then nodded and went out. Walter was another large Appointment Beast, at least as ugly as the one Theo had met earlier. He was pudgier than the musclebound warthog, with skin like a crocodile and a round, scaly face. He silently directed Theo to the table in the center of the room, then flicked his fingers over the surface of his own desk as if trying to shake water off them; a large mirror rose from a previously invisible slot in the center of the table. Its reflecting surface appeared to steam over, then the mist vanished and was replaced by the Daffodil family crest which remained in the center of the mirror.

  "The Test Patterns of Fairyland," Theo murmured.

  "Beg pardon?" said reptilian Walter.

  "Nothing."

  The Appointment Beast nodded, slowly extricated itself from behind the desk, and brought Theo a pitcher of water and a glass.

  "Do you mind if I eat my lunch?" Walter asked. "Seeing as I'm working today when I'm supposed to be on holiday?"

  "Not at all." The scaly head nodded. "Very kind." Walter took a white cardboard carton that might have contained Chinese take-out out from beneath the desk, opened it, and looked in. Flarp! A long gray tongue shot out and plunged into the box like a piston, then withdrew almost as quickly, bringing back something with tiny wriggling legs. Theo turned away, unsettled.

  The mirror in the center of the table grew misty again and the Daffodil crest faded, replaced a moment later by a view of what Theo guessed must be the conference center's meeting hall a couple of floors above him. It was at least as large as the vast basement room that held the comb, and like the much smaller suite Theo was presently occupying, seemed to have one wall entirely made of glass. A long table bisected the hall, running perpendicular to the floor-to-ceiling window; Theo's viewpoint looked down its polished length. Banks of seats surrounded the table on either side — diplomacy as spectator sport. Outside, the towers of the city's greatest houses spiked the skyline like the unfolded components of a Swiss army knife, a group of silhouettes much quirkier than anything he would have seen back in the world of his birth.

  Lord Daffodil and Lady Jonquil were already sitting on the side of the table visible to Theo's left, surrounded by various underlings. Lord Hollyhock had just taken his place, too, although he had a much smaller contingent which included some young fairy women in smart suits. Beyond them, nearest the floor-to-ceiling window, and clearly constituting another household, was a group centered around an extremely tall and slender fairy lord with long silvery tresses and sad but self-absorbed eyes; he looked even older than Lord Daffodil. This mournful presence was surrounded by a group of what might have been acolytes, young fairy men with identical haircuts wearing simple, loose garments that resembled religious robes.

  "Who's that?" Theo asked, pointing at the silver-haired fairy. The Appointment Beast looked up, cheeks bulging. He chewed a few times, delicately spat a shell into his napkin, then set the box down and leaned forward, squinting. "Ah. His Radiant Honor, Garvan, Lord Lily," he said. "Mad as a mudfly, that one."

  Theo tried to remember what he had been told about the Lily household. Allies of the Daffodils and Hollyhocks was all he could remember.

  So everyone here so far is on the same side, he thought, and it wa
s literally true, because the side of the table to Theo's right was still entirely empty. No Hellebores yet, no Thornapples. That should have made him feel better, but it didn't. Waiting was worse than knowing, really. He surveyed the crowd of fairies filling the seats behind Hollyhock, Daffodil, and the rest. "Who are all the folk at the back?" he asked. "Some of them look pretty rich and important."

  The lizard man leaned forward again. "The usual lot. The Primrose clan over there, they're another of the Six Families. A lot of the others are Lord Daffodil's allies. Those are Peonies, and Bluebells, and . . . I can't quite make those out in the back, but I saw the guest list so I'm fairly sure they're Snowdrops. Beyond them are . . . Stocks, yes, no question. Hard to tell which Stocks just by looking at them — huge family and they all look much the same — but you can't mistake the look. Weak chins, the lot of them."

  "And the other side, the empty chairs, those are for the Hellebores and the Thornapples?" The functionary briefly consulted a list on his clipboard. "Yes, and some others who asked to be seated with them. The Foxgloves, Larkspurs, and . . . let me check . . . Monkshoods, Buttercups . . ."

  Foxglove. It tugged at Theo's memory, but his head was spinning with horticultural names, an overgrown garden of half-understood fairy civics and history.

  "That lot will arrive late, no doubt," the scaly fellow continued. "With Hellebore and some others it will be a purposeful gesture of contempt. With Lord Larkspur, it will be because he has caught the wrong train from the country. He will spend ten minutes blaming the rail system."

  Despite his nervousness, Theo was amused. "You seem to know a lot. What's your name?"

  "Spunkie Walter, sir."

  "Nice to meet you, Spunkie."

  "No, my name is Walter. A spunkie is what I am. You met my cousin Spunkie Tim earlier."

  "The warthog guy? Oh, sorry, is that rude?"