by John Lenahan
Tuan led me to the guest wing. As we walked I patted him on the back. ‘You are a Pooka hero.’
He blushed and looked embarrassed that anyone would even think such a thing. If he had been a cowboy he would have said, ‘Aw shucks.’
‘Really,’ I said, ‘you were the only one that didn’t get lost and you’re the only Pooka anybody has ever heard of that can change into more than one animal. You’re like a super-Pooka. We should get you a tee-shirt with a big P painted on the front.’
‘You are very kind …’ Then Tuan’s ears began to stretch and fur-up. He had to turn away and compose himself to stop from transforming into some creature. ‘Sorry, Prince Conor, I sometimes change when I get emotional.’
‘Don’t worry about it and it’s just Conor, OK.’
‘You are very kind, Conor, but things are not as they seem.’
‘Oh yeah, so what am I missing?’
Tuan paused and I thought he was about to tell me. It was obviously something important but then he looked over his shoulder and said, ‘I am very busy. I must help round up some lost bunnies.’
‘Of course, Councillor Tuan,’ I said with a smile. He blushed again – this guy was cute.
‘Just Tuan, OK?’ he said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Moran
I wandered around my chambers – they were pretty small for royal digs but the bed was soft and there was an en-suite bathroom. I walked out onto the balcony and let the cold air pink up my cheeks as I looked at the pond that a few hours earlier had been the Queen’s swimming pool.
‘I hope you do not mind this small room,’ Queen Rhiannon said, startling me, ‘but this room was a favourite of your grandfather’s. I thought you might like it too.’
‘I do,’ I said, bowing my head. ‘Thank you.’
Queen Rhiannon leaned against the banister next to me and looked out over her pond. ‘I once asked Liam why he liked this room better than the regal rooms and he said it was because here he had a better chance to see me naked.’ The Queen smiled. ‘He was very cheeky, your grandfather. You have the same twinkle in your eyes.’
‘That is very nice to hear, Your Highness.’
The cold and a clatter of teacups made us go back inside. A mousey little servant, that recently may have actually been a mouse, was twitchingly setting up tea, flatbread and dried fruits. When she spilled the Queen’s tea, Rhiannon placed her hand on the servant’s and said, with a reassuring smile, that she could go. My tea was served by a Queen.
‘I thank you again for the hazelnuts, Conor, but since you did not know of our plight before you arrived, I wonder, is there another reason for your visit?’
‘Oisin is dying.’
The Queen tilted her head like a confused puppy and said, ‘Dying?’
That’s when I realised that the concept of a slow death is quite alien to some of the people in The Land. People here either die fast, in battle or by falling out of a poplar tree – or they commit seafaring suicide by sailing out to sea in a boat – but since there is no sickness, a lingering illness followed by death just doesn’t happen. So I told her the long tale about how Dad reattached his hand in the Chamber of Runes and how that seems to be killing him and how Mom and Fand encased him in Shadowmagic.
Queen Rhiannon took it all in, wide-eyed. ‘For hundreds of years there is nothing new in The Land – I’m lost for a couple of months and all has changed. But I cannot imagine how I can help.’
‘I was hoping you could tell me where I can get some tughe tine blood.’
I don’t think I could have shocked her more if I had slapped her in the face. ‘Who told you of tughe tine?’
I explained about the manuscript that contained the story of the Grey Ones and their search for the blood of the tughe tine and about our strange encounter with the mountaintop Oracle. Finally I told her of the knife and the message that told me that the changelings would have answers.
Queen Rhiannon just sat there with her hand over her mouth and shook her head for a time before she finally said, ‘You certainly do not bring dull stories, Prince Conor. So Deirdre has developed a way to bring back lost manuscripts?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘She is a very clever witch that mother of yours.’ Queen Rhiannon thought again for a time then said, ‘The answers to the questions you ask are … not easily given. There were members of the council today who wanted you and your party dead for what you have deduced already. We Pookas think like animals. So many animals live so much in fear that they hide their injuries. They think that if another animal sees their vulnerabilities that they will use it against them. But sometimes we think like animals too much. We forget that there are creatures that might want to help. If not for you, Conor, and the Faeries – we all would be lost. Your grandfather was the only non-Pooka to know of our dependence on the fruit of the hazel. If more had known then maybe the Tree of Knowledge would have been better defended.’
‘Dahy is building a small regiment to protect it now.’
‘Dahy lives? That is good news. I think it is time we ended our isolation. Do you think he would accept some Pooka recruits?’
‘I know he would.’
‘Good. Now to answer your question, Conor, I shall tell you of things that even many of my own people do not know. But in the light of recent events maybe more should learn of our history.’ She dropped her head and took a deep breath collecting her thoughts.
‘The Pooka were the first new race. We believe that only the Faeries, Leprechauns and Brownies are older. In the beginning we were not changelings but we had an affinity with animals. We tended herds for the House of Duir and learned magic from Ériu. Using gold we learned how to speak to the animals.’
‘I’ve seen my mother do that by placing gold in her mouth.’
‘Yes, I authorised my daughter to teach her that. As I said, she is a very clever witch. But we Pooka did not stop there. Soon we were using magic to completely empathise with the animals. Cults began – the most prominent were the Marcach and the Fia.’
‘Horse and deer?’ I said, remembering my father teaching me names of animals in ancient Gaelic when I was a kid.
‘Yes. The cults submerged themselves completely in their chosen animals to the point where the first changes began. The Marcach became half horse themselves and the Fia became half deer half Pooka.’
‘Centaurs and Fauns,’ I said aloud.
‘Yes,’ Queen Rhiannon said as if being roused out of a daydream, ‘I have heard those words used by Pookas that came back from a Real World sojourn. But the half change was dangerous. Marcach and Fia began to lose themselves – they became horses and deer and no one could bring them back. A council was formed and the cults were banned, but they continued in secret.
‘One of our kind was named Moran. He was reported to be the wisest of all the Pooka. He studied every creature that was known on the land and in the air, then he left for the sea. There he sd e the fish and found the aquatic mind so different to our own that he could safely change into a half fish and not lose his Pooka identity.’
‘Wait a minute. Are you talking about mermaids? Like topless girls with fish bottoms?’
It was only a matter of time before Queen Rhiannon gave me the dirty look that every other woman I had known had given me. ‘Mertain is what he called them but yes, mermaid is the Real World name. At about the same time another of my ancestors travelled to the Hazellands. Before the Hall of Knowledge existed, wise men and women would gather at the great hazel tree and share ideas. My ancestor tried a hazelnut and it instilled him with such self-knowledge that he attempted a complete change into an animal and was able to return to his Pooka self. He arrived back at the Pinelands at almost the same time Moran did. Both of them drew supporters, each professing the virtues of their discoveries. Soon most were following my ancestor, changing into all manner of beasts using hazel. Moran warned that dependence on hazelnuts was dangerous but he was unheeded. I have not thought of him in a
very long time but I must now admit that he may have been right.’
‘What happened to Moran?’
‘Finally he and his followers left to live permanently in the sea. The Pookas of the Pinelands never heard of them for centuries. Then a half woman/half fish washed up on the shore injured and the Banshees brought her to us. She told us that the Mertain live in the archipelago off the Fearn Peninsula. She named two of the islands – one was Faoilean Island and the other was Tughe Tine Isle.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘She was escorted to Fearn Point and she swam home. We have not heard from the Mertain since.’
‘Do you have a guide that could take me there?’
‘The Fearn Peninsula is in the Alderlands. Our peoples have had no contact in a long time but I may be able to help you, but not for several days. I would like to get my kindred unlost before I lose them again.’
‘Of course. Thank you, Your Highness.’
She placed her hand on my cheek. ‘It is so good to see Liam’s seed in this room. Sleep well, Son of Hazel.’ Before she left she stopped and turned to me. ‘There is one more thing you should know, Conor. The Mertain that washed up on the shore …’
‘Yes?’
‘She was … old.’
I spent that night dreaming about a mermaid. I don’t know if my dreams were a premonition or just the result of talking about them all day, but I can tell you one thing: the mermaid I dreamt about wasn’t old.
I awoke in the morning to the sound of splashing. I had one of those surreal moments when I couldn’t figure out whether the sound was coming from my dream or from the waking world. I sat up in bed and listened. Just because my grandfather was a peeping tom didn’t mean I was going to cop a look at Queen Rhiannon swimming naked – as much as I’d like to. I dressed, walked downstairs and found Essa speaking to the wet-hared, robed Queen, at the entrance to the council room. They stopped when they saw me. The Queen and I swapped morning pleasantries and she left.
‘Is everyone all right?’ I asked.
‘We’re fine,’ Essa said. ‘Brendan has been complaining about not having any meat in a while. He asked a Pooka if he could change into something he called a New York porterhouse so he could eat him. I’m not sure if the poor Pooka was scared or just confused.’ Then she smiled and I realised just how much I had missed that smile. ‘The Queen seems to like you,’ she said.
‘Oh, yeah? What did she say about me?’
‘She told me that I was with the wrong man.’
‘Well, I have to agree with her there. I don’t see how you can ignore such good advice from a queen and a prince. Come to think of it I’m sure I could get a king to join the focus group.’
‘Turlow is a king,’ she replied smugly.
‘And here is me thinking that he was just a Turd-low.’
Essa’s face got those lines in it that meant that our pleasant conversation was coming to an end. She turned to leave. I reached for her arm and thought better of it.
‘Essa,’ I called after her and she stopped. ‘Seriously, even if we never get together again I still agree with the Queen. He is not the right man for you.’
She gave me that exasperated look, which was safer than her I’m about to hit you look. ‘And why is that?’
‘When you are around him – you … you just don’t seem to be you.’
This looked like it threw her for a second. But then she bounced back, ‘Maybe this is the real me and you are the one that brings out my worst.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so.’
For a second I thought she was going to say something else but then she looked at her shoes and left.
Cha
pter Twenty-Three
Re-Pookalation
The Pinelands quickly became re-Pookalated. It must not take much hazelnut to help a Pooka remember how to stand on two legs ’cause everywhere I went I saw formerly fur-covered people being led back to their homes looking kinda dopey. I spoke to Tuan and he said that when Pookas are lost it takes them a while to start thinking like a person again. I saw one woman lick her hand and then wash her cheek like a cat.
Tuan hosted a dinner for us in his modest house. Believe it or not he cooked salmon.
‘That’s what I just don’t get,’ Brendan said between m
‘We are not as flippant as that,’ Araf answered, ‘asking for an animal’s life is a skill that must be learned, but that is essentially what happens.’
‘Why on earth would an animal agree to that?’ Brendan asked.
‘Because they know they will be born again,’ Tuan said as if talking to a five-year-old.
‘How do they know that?’
This question stumped Tuan, as if Brendan had asked him, ‘How do you know the sun shines?’
‘That is what they tell me,’ the Pooka said. ‘Why would I doubt them?’
It was nice having a boys’ night. Tuan had invited the Turd-low but he said he would rather sit alone and wait for his beloved to return from the dinner she was having with Nieve and the Queen. Brendan, who usually sticks up for the Banshee, called him ‘hen-pecked’. I, on the other hand, thought maybe Turlow had the right idea. Perhaps if I had paid more attention to Essa I would be doing something other than talking bull with guys and laying the groundwork for a hangover.
Saying that, it was a delightful evening. The food was good and Tuan produced a couple of bottles of some lovely Pooka mead-like stuff that had milk or cream in it. I almost asked if the milk came from regular cows or Pookas that were cows and then decided that I didn’t want to know. It was stronger than it tasted and it loosened Tuan’s tongue until I asked him how much hazelnut it takes to make a Pooka remember that he has feet instead of paws.
Tuan clammed up and said that was not information that should be discussed outside of the clan.
‘Don’t worry, Pooka brother,’ I told him. ‘Remember I’m a barush and Brendan is my closest adviser. Any Pooka secret you tell him or me will go no further than this room.’
‘I’m an adviser?’ Brendan said. ‘When did that happen?’
‘And you can tell Araf anything ’cause he never speaks,’ I said, patting the Imp on the back. ‘Isn’t that right, Prince Araf?’
The big guy gave me his hallmark blank stare.
‘See.’
‘Anyway what’s the big secret?’ Brendan asked. ‘So you need hazelnuts. Pookas need hazelnuts and cops need donuts.’
‘Do donuts come from do trees?’ Tuan asked.
‘Never mind,’ I said, ‘but Brendan has a point. Why keep it such a secret?’
‘Because it is a weakness,’ Tuan said, crouching down as if someone was overhearing him. ‘If others were to realise our dependence on hazel then they could use it to exploit us.’
‘It seems to me that someone already has,’ Brendan said in such a matter-of-fact way that everyone looked at him a bit shocked.
‘Explain,’ Tuan demanded.
>
eight="0%" width="5%">‘Well, Conor told me that no one knows why the Hall of Knowledge was destroyed. It seems obvious to me that somebody wanted to take the Pookas out of the equation by destroying all the hazel trees. They almost succeeded.’ My gods, I thought, it was so obvious. Why didn’t I see it before?
Tuan was unconvinced. ‘But no one knew about our need for hazelnuts except Conor’s grandfather.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Brendan asked. ‘The one thing I know about secrets is that there is no such thing. Somebody else always knows.’
‘Who?’ Tuan asked.
‘Someone who is a master of ancient lore,’ I said in a dreamy voice as I thought out loud. ‘Someone who will do anything to get his own way.’
‘Oh,’ Araf said.
‘Who?’ Brendan and Tuan asked together.
I had to take a slug of Pooka-shine before I could even say the name. ‘Cialtie.’
This kinda killed the happy party mood of the evening but it didn’t stifl
e the discussion. We all eventually agreed that if the Hazellands were destroyed to stop the Pookas from getting hazelnuts, then that meant that the Hall of Knowledge was once again in peril.
‘We should inform Dahy,’ Araf said.
‘Inform him of what?’ a woman’s voice asked from the doorway. It was Aunt Nieve followed by Essa.
We filled the ladies in on our epiphany. At first they thought it was just drunken ramblings but then they asked more questions. Soon they thought it was a pretty good theory too.
‘We should talk about this on our walk,’ Nieve said.
‘Good idea,’ Brendan replied, jumping up to join her.
‘You two have a walk planned?’ I asked as I gave a questioning glance to Essa. The tilt of her head implied she knew something that I didn’t. The walkers just smiled. Brendan came back into the room to pick up his jacket from the floor beside me. As he leaned down I whispered, ‘And what’s all this then?’
‘It’s a walk,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I have a choice between sitting here listening to you whine or a walk in the moonlight with a beautiful woman. Hmm, let me thin’ on that for a second.’ He grabbed his jacket and they left.
I turned to Essa. ‘So I suppose you are off to join your snuggly Banshee?’
‘Actually,’ she said, plopping down on the cushion next to me, ‘what I could really use is a drink.’
I jumped up and got her a glass. Tuan poured her a measure of Pooka-shine and she downed it in one.
Then she smiled at me and said, ‘Can I have another?’
I took this to be a very good sign.
I really could have used a lie-in the next morning, but plied, got me up to meet with the Queen so I could tell her about our theory of the night before. After that I had to give a briefing to the entire council. A few Pookas got a bit hot under the collar when they found out that Tuan and I were talking freely about hazelnut dependency in front of outsiders, but I told them that my companions had figured it out by themselves and if our theory was correct, then the cat was out of the bag anyway. Then I spent another twenty minutes trying to explain what an ‘old expression’ was and why a cat was in a bag in the first place.
