Lies and Prophecy

by Marie Brennan

  On second thought, maybe that was a lack. If we hadn’t been using glamours, I wouldn’t have been stuck in this damn dress.

  Queen Elizabeth I, surrounded by her skirts, nodded gravely at me; I made a curtsy to her. A few moments later I passed Odin. With my luck, some guy out there was dressed as Hades, and then I’d be in for it.

  Liesel plastered a smile on her face and made sour comments about the two other Cinderellas, one of whom was relying heavily upon the suggestion of her glamour; her dress was suitably ballgown-ish, but there the resemblance ended. “If only Carnivale hadn’t been sold out of everything good,” she said with a sigh. “I could have been something interesting. Boadicea maybe, or Lucrezia Borgia.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll plan next year’s costumes early, do something really dramatic. Some kind of paired thing.”

  Neither of us wanted to voice the unspoken question: would this all still be here, so normal, next year?

  We split up and circulated, chatting with various specific targets in an attempt to guess who they were. In a while we’d meet to compare notes and make our predictions. The familiar ritual brought some happiness to Liesel, so I was glad to cooperate.

  I extricated myself from a conversation with Cleopatra and took a turn around the room to look for my next target. The Egyptian queen was almost certainly Maria Chiaro, the department’s undergraduate coordinator. I had a private guess that the Shiva I was currently searching for would prove to be Fitzgerald, but I had to speak to him to be certain.

  A hand clamped down on my silk-covered arm and pulled me into the shadow of a pillar.

  My own hand dove for my athame, but it was strapped to my thigh and damnably hard to get at in this gown. Idiot! I was gathering myself to attack without it when the figure who had accosted me hissed, “Do not.”

  I stayed frozen, my back to the pillar.

  The shadow confused things, but the glamour told me the man in front of me was supposed to be Arawn. My mind lashed out in a very specific attack, to punch through the effect and discover his true identity.

  It held.

  My blood went even colder. Costume glamours weren’t supposed to hold up to that, and even a stronger one should have broken under my strike. The list of people who would could cast a glamour that strong was very short indeed.

  Arawn—the Welsh god of the Otherworld. Was that somebody’s idea of a joke?

  “Come,” he whispered. “I must give you a warning.”

  “Not until you show me who you are,” I snapped, resisting his attempt to pull me along.

  He growled low in his throat and stepped sideways, into the light. My jaw fell open. It was Falcon, plain as day. He hadn’t even disguised himself, aside from the glamour’s suggestion of a name; he just pretended his Otherworldliness was part of the effect. He pulled me unresisting through the room without trying to hide, and people complimented him on his costume. I couldn’t decide whether to tear his head off or admire his gall. This room was probably the only place on campus he could get away with looking like himself in full view of everyone.

  Once we passed the outer doors, he drew me off to the side, away from the few people coming and going.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I snarled at him, venting my nerves.

  “I have to warn you. I could not risk waiting, and so I disguised myself in the manner you are using. Is it wrong?”

  “It’s too damn strong, is what it is. None of us can do that—a costume glamour shouldn’t be able to hold up to an attempt to look through it.”

  “Which would be worse—a strong glamour, or myself without it?”

  He had a point there, and I wanted to slap him for it. I quelled the urge. Falcon might irritate the hell out of me, but he’d said he was here to warn me, and I shouldn’t waste time arguing over petty concerns. I wrapped my arms around my body to warm myself and set my feet. “What do you have to say?”

  “The Unseelie are planning something.”

  “No shit. Details, please, if you have any. Or are you just wasting my time?”

  His emerald eyes betrayed contempt. “I do not waste your time. Will you listen, or shall I abandon you to your own stupidity?”

  I swallowed and told my pride to shut up. “What is it?”

  “Humans have come, who intend to take the changeling into their keeping. The Unseelie are not ready to let him go, and so they will kidnap him. Soon.”

  Reinforcements, at last—just in time to provoke the Unseelie into action. I had to warn Julian. “Thank you,” I said to Falcon, and I meant it.

  “Be wary. I will come again if I learn more.”

  “You be careful. If those people catch you, I don’t think you’ll like the result.”

  A mocking grin. “I will attempt to be discreet.” And then he slipped away into the darkness, leaving me alone outside Stuart Hall, trying desperately to collect my scattered wits and think of a plan.

  I had to talk to Julian, and now. Where the hell was he? My hand dove to the plunging neckline of my dress. Liesel had objected, but I’d insisted on wearing my focus. Paranoia paid off. But even with it, my seeking mind failed to find Julian. Of course he was shielding. He wouldn’t leave himself open like that. And this dress had no pocket for me to keep my port in. Dammit!

  Liesel was still inside, and my first instinct was to tell her about the warning. I stopped myself, though, before I’d gone more than two steps.

  This would break her. To be reaching so desperately for normality, and then to have this dropped on her—

  She was safer at the ball than anywhere on campus. Half our professors were in there. In the meantime, Grayson’s office wasn’t far away. That was the most likely place to find her and whoever had been sent—and if they weren’t there, a public screen was.

  Hiking up my skirts and grabbing my athame from beneath them, I set off across the grass.

  The dress was surprisingly easy to run in. I supposed it made sense; Persephone had done plenty of running in the movie, trying to flee Hades, so she needed to be able to move. I felt like I was going to fall right out of the bodice, but my concern for Julian made me ignore it and run on. Time enough for that later. Time enough for everything later.

  Campus on my left, Arboretum on my right. I knew which one I was used to thinking of as holding danger. But I saw shadows slipping between the buildings, and a quick probe ran me up against a wall of not human. Fear twisted deeper into my bones.

  The Unseelie were already here.

  Footsteps, pounding down the slope from the Arboretum. I veered away, athame coming up in defense, but it was Falcon again. I stumbled over my skirts. He grabbed my bare wrist, and all my skin tried to crawl off my body at once—Julian’s touch, magnified three-fold. “Come! Quickly!”

  “The Unseelie—”

  “I know,” he said grimly, facing the campus buildings, scanning for the threats we both knew were there. “I must get you away.”

  “But they’re going after Julian—”

  Falcon dragged me into a run, and for once I didn’t resist. “They let that slip on purpose. The changeling is not their target, not yet. You are. To lead him into the open.”

  Something brushed across my telepathic senses, a feeling like the howling of wolves. I threw a glance over my shoulder and saw figures loping towards us.

  I was an iron idiot. What better way to provoke Julian into reckless action than to threaten a friend? To threaten me?

  The Unseelie hunters had spread out in an arc. They were herding us toward the Arboretum.

  Every divinatory instinct I possessed screamed a warning at me. This was it, this was the moment all the omens had pointed toward—but I had no choice. If we broke away from the trees, we’d be caught. And whatever threat waited for me under those branches, I’d take it over the certainty of capture.

  I allowed Falcon to lead me into the Arboretum.

  Darkness closed in on me like a trap. I’d been through the plac
e a thousand times, I knew every path of it inside and out, but within ten steps I was lost. Falcon plunged down the trail, hand still clamped on my wrist; I could only follow blindly and hope he knew where he was going.

  Moonlight flashed in and out as we darted across open patches of ground. Once I heard the sound of rushing water and realized we were near a particular rivulet that fed the Copper Creek, but then Falcon made an abrupt turn and I lost my bearings. Were the Unseelie responsible for this confusion? I wanted to ask, but it was impossible when we were sprinting pell-mell down a rocky path.

  And then we were off the path and into the trees. A silly part of my brain yelped a protest for Ceridwen’s gown, but the complaint never made it past my lips. I followed Falcon as best I could, trying with my athame hand to keep my skirts gathered in so they wouldn’t catch on the branches. I failed, and felt the cloth rip in a dozen places. And still Falcon ran.

  Until at last we broke into the moonlight, and ahead of me I saw an irregular patch of darkness. We were at the center of the Arboretum, the cavern around which the university was founded. There was power here, and a defensible opening. Stumbling slightly, grateful I’d had the sense to wear reasonably solid shoes regardless of costume, I jogged across the uneven ground with Falcon and ducked into the cave.

  Stalagmites loomed around me like teeth as we reached the back of the cave. The darkness was nearly absolute. I opened my mouth to ask Falcon to make a light—

  —and he threw me contemptuously to the ground.

  A witchlight flared overhead as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, wincing at what would certainly become bruises. “What the hell—”

  The words died in my throat. For as the light blossomed, I remembered there were no stalagmites in this cave.

  Mocking laughter came from all sides.

  The rock formations vanished, leaving graceful forms in their place. Eight sidhe stepped forward, and even as I looked up I knew what I would see.

  Golden eyes.

  How had this happened? It was inconceivable that Falcon could have betrayed me; sidhe were either Seelie or Unseelie, and would never turn traitor to their Courts. It was impossible. Yet he’d brought me here, and thrown me to the ground like a rag too filthy for him to touch.

  Had he lied?

  “I trust your confusion is resolved,” a taunting voice said from behind me.

  I rose to my feet before turning to confront him. I refused to continue cowering on the floor like the helpless maiden this damn dress made me resemble.

  The face was Falcon’s. The body was Falcon’s. But the eyes—the eyes I hadn’t seen, because he’d turned away from me too quickly and had never faced back again—were not his. Because a glamour could not disguise eye color, could not make me mistake gold for green.

  He grinned wickedly and let the illusion drop. “An excellent trick, is it not?”

  I’d been warned. Gods. Falcon, the real Falcon, had told me—but it hadn’t helped, because I was too goddamned panicked to look.

  Pure fury drove me to raise my athame, but a deft flick of power from one of the surrounding Unseelie staggered me before I could use it, and then the blade was ripped from my grasp. The sidhe who was not Falcon had backed up a step, but now he smiled again.

  “It wasn’t you both times,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even.

  “Both times? Were you visited by him tonight? What wonderful irony.”

  “They moved as quickly as we expected, then,” one of the others said.

  My deceiver nodded. “Indeed. How obliging.”

  “Which one of you attacked me in the library?” I asked abruptly. I knew the drill; I had to stall. Someone had to be looking for me. I hadn’t told Liesel where I was going; she would be getting worried soon.

  Gods, please let her be worried.

  “It was I,” someone behind me said.

  I whirled and leapt to attack him, but this time I was frozen mid-motion and held there. The sidhe I’d been facing, who seemed to be leading this ring, clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “We’ll have none of that.” The back of his hand cracked me across the face; the magical hold on me dropped just in time for me to be knocked to the floor by the blow. “Or we’ll have more of this.” And, before I could roll away, he planted his boot in my ribs.

  “Patience,” one of the other Unseelie said as I curled up in agony. “You can kill her if it fails.”

  If it fails. They had a plan.

  I had to get out of here.

  I threw myself at the cave’s exit. They dragged me back into its depths by my hair. “No more escape attempts,” one of my captors warned me. “You will not be treated so gently next time.” My scalp was bleeding where hair had come out, and my sides ached from more blows to my ribs.

  “I shall put this to you simply,” the leader said, standing in front of me with his arms crossed. “You have a choice. We believe you can be one of us if you choose it willingly. Do so, and you will be spared pain.”

  Knowing it was stupid, but lacking any other options, I spat on the rock at his feet.

  He ignored it. “Very well. We shall see if you are more pliable than your friend.”

  Rough hands slammed into my back and I fell to my knees on the unforgiving stone. Blocking pain and fear from my mind, I tried to lash out magically, to strike at any of them with my excuse for a levinbolt. I failed, of course; I’d been shielded since I came in here. A shove from behind sent me to my face on the floor, and my focus dug into my chest.

  My focus.

  I closed my eyes and sent everything I had through the crystal, slamming at the barriers around me, trying to generate just enough of a break to get out a telepathic scream for help, and they laughed at me. To them, I was nothing but a helpless child.

  A hand tore my focus from around my neck. It fell to the stone with a clink.

  Two Unseelie grabbed my arms and held them out wide so I was strung between them. A third grabbed my hair again and yanked my head back.

  In front of me I could still just barely see their leader, watching this all with calm, cold eyes.

  Two more Unseelie came forward with a long, slender pipe and a small bowl. My eyes tearing up in pain, I watched in apprehension as one tamped a small measure of powder into the bulbous end of the pipe.

  And then he brought it toward my face.

  I tried to throw my head to the side, but the one holding my hair merely tightened his grip and clamped a hand down on my chin, holding my jaw shut. Head immobilized, I could only watch, straining in vain to escape, as he lined the end of the pipe up at my nose and put his mouth to the other end.

  His cheeks puffed once.

  My scream echoed off the walls of the cave. I barely felt those holding me tighten their grip; my blood was on fire, and that surpassing agony drowned out everything. My body convulsed uncontrollably. Had they not been holding me, I would have cracked my skull against the stone floor. I wanted to tear my own skin off. The powder burned like acid, tracking with wildfire speed into my throat and lungs and brain, and I could only thrash in their grip, and scream, and scream, until at last the blackness stooped on me like a bird of prey and carried me away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Julian floated in the space between worlds. Next to him, the silver thread led from the falcon carving to the sidhe who used that name. He wondered if it would be possible for him to reach this space without that guide. After all, the carving could be lost, or stolen, or simply not in his possession when he needed it.

  That was an experiment for later. Right now, he wanted to try contacting someone else.

  Though he’d spent very little time in her company, the seer called Shard had left a vivid psychic impression. He sent his mind questing outward, brushing with a feather-light touch across the auras populating the Otherworld, seeking that familiarity. It wouldn’t have worked in the other direction; there were far too many people on Earth to pick one out of the masses. The sidhe were vastly fewer in number�
��though still enough to be a threat.

  There.

  Julian focused his thoughts into a solid arrow and sent them to Shard, politely tapping to get her attention.

  Curiosity.

  Come.

  That was all he could manage. Without the assistance of the link, conveying anything complex was too difficult. If Shard had reached out to him, creating her own connection, it might have been easier, but she chose instead to merely indicate assent. Julian withdrew, dissatisfied with his bare success.

  Then he waited.

  Falcon had appeared rapidly in the Arboretum, but he had after all been expecting the call. Julian could have saved time by contacting Shard from there, but he preferred to remain safe behind the layered shields on the dorm and his room, especially while in a trance. He’d go outside once Shard contacted him.

  Before that could happen, though, a quiet knock sounded at the door. Julian rose and opened it.

  The door across the hall opened at the same time, and his neighbor Declan came out. The other student looked away reflexively; he’d been unhappy all term about living across from the campus wilder. Declan hunched his shoulders and hurried down the hall, and only then did Julian realize he’d been flinching away from more than just a wilder.

  Shard had cloaked herself in some kind of don’t-see-me trick, a powerful telepathic suggestion to look away. Julian only saw her when she excluded him from its effect. The sidhe woman was standing right in front of his door, with an uneasy look on her inhuman face. She motioned for Julian to open the door wider; when he did, she edged carefully past the knob, staying as far from it as she could. Or rather, from the iron of the lock.

  Once the sidhe was safely inside, he shut the door and turned to face her.

  Like Falcon, she was tall and androgynously slender. Julian wasn’t even certain he could correctly identify all sidhe as male or female—or that such categories applied to them in the first place. But that was where the resemblance ended. Where Falcon was predatory and intense, Shard’s inhuman presence had a serene quality, as if she was content to watch the future approach, for good or for ill.