Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free

by Randy Henderson

  When I bumped into a Fey resembling Ambassador Sarek in the hall, however, there was no mistaking Spock’s father. By the time I thought of what to say, he’d already swept off stoically down the hall. Granted, he wasn’t really Sarek, or even the actor who played Sarek, but I still had a tiny nerdgasm.

  I wondered if he had been created out of my own memories of Sarek, fed upon during my exile. Would that make him my child in a way? Like the child of a sperm donor?

  “We have arrived,” Herman the death-guard announced, and stopped before double doors that narrowed at the top to form an obelisk shape. Herman opened the doors, and waved us through.

  We passed down a short hall into a dark circular area lit in the center by a single sharp shaft of light. Above and around us sat a circle of Fey representing the various Demesnes, their faces lit dramatically from below, each paired up with a banner hanging before them showing their Demesne’s sigil.

  I could hear my grandfather rattling off the Demesnes in my head:

  The Islands of the Blessed, known as the Demesne of harmony and community.

  The Summerland, Demesne of creativity and art.

  The Emerald Fortress, Demesne of order and logic.

  The Vale of Revels, Demesne of games, commerce, and thieves.

  The Mountains of the Mind, Demesne of knowledge, research, and strategy.

  The Eternal Fields, Demesne of the hunt, exploring, and wanderlust.

  The Shores of Chaos, Demesne of change, entropy, and, well, chaos, and beyond whose borders was rumored to seethe the Primordial Chaos.

  The Forge of Creation, Demesne of crafting and invention.

  The Everchanging Gardens, Demesne of the seasons, nature, and rebirth.

  The Heart Lands, Demesne of passions, lusts, and desires.

  The Forest of Shadows, Demesne of cunning, deception, and power.

  And the Silver Court, Demesne of wisdom and justice.

  Some of the figures above those banners I recognized from my history lessons, or from playing the game Diplomacy—I’d relived the memories of those lessons and games enough times in exile to actually remember them—diplomats like Klemens von Metternich, Theodore Roosevelt, and Cyrus the Great. Some were mythic or religious figures known for their diplomacy, such as Athena in her golden aegis, and Oshun in flowing gold robes and a peacock feather headdress, both representing the Silver Court. And some I recognized as inspired by fictional characters, such as Damien Thorn, our good friend Chauvelin, and a man I felt pretty certain was Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.

  Some I felt less certain of, but thought might be modeled after Sun Tzu, Yudistira, and the Mouth of Sauron. That left several of the Quorum I did not recognize, unsurprising given the breadth of cultures and span of time from which the Fey had been pulling memories.

  I also noted there were, in fact, two Metternichs representing opposing Demesnes, which was not surprising. Given the way Fey identity worked, it would be possible to have good Kirk, and mirror universe Kirk, and both transporter accident Kirks all on the same Quorum, all equals and representing a different Demesne most aligned with their nature.

  A kingly Viking-looking man rapped on the railing with a fist, bringing silence to the murmurs of the other members. My best guess was Bragi, the Norse god famous for being welcome in any of the realms, a diplomat who sought peace. He’d be a perfect choice to lead a group of disparate Fey. And I took it as a positive sign, since I’d come here precisely to ensure peace.

  “Fellow Proxenoi,” Bragi said. “We have been summoned to hear the words of a visitor from the human realm, Phinaeus Gramaraye.” That caused a stirring of the Quorum members. Bragi looked down at me. “Speak your words, arcana, that we may judge their import. But be warned that this chamber has the power to detect untruth, and any lie shall bring great and immediate pain to the deceiver, be they human, brightblood, or Aalbright.”

  “Uh, sure,” I said, and cleared my throat. “I came here to make you aware of some upsetting events in my world.”

  I told them about Hiromi. That she had been working to infiltrate and sabotage the Silver Court brightbloods. That she’d allegedly received orders directly from the Forest of Shadows to frame the Silver Court for an attack on the alchemist. That Veirai’s body had been destroyed on orders supposedly from the Silver Court Archon and yet the Archon denied giving any such orders, suggesting that someone had forged them. I told them of the attack at the game farm by Hiromi that attempted to pit the Silver Court brightbloods against the arcana. And I shared Alynon’s theory that such acts were meant to help drive a wedge between arcana and the Silver Court.

  Athena glowered in the direction of the Shadows proxenoi.

  “What defense can the Shadows give?” she demanded. I was sad to see no mechanical owl on her shoulder.

  Chauvelin whispered something to the Damien Thorn knockoff, who disappeared. He then leaned forward, a calm smile on his face. “I assure you, to the best of my knowledge no such orders were given to our vassals. This human’s story is just that, one of their fictions, though clearly even he is deceived to speak such untrue words here without consequence.”

  That gave me pause. I had expected some elaborate deflection, but not an outright denial.

  The Fey never lied, not outright, though this seemed due more to a fundamental psychological trait or principal than an actual inability. They could play with the truth, however, twist it and reshape it with unparalleled skill—Zeno’s paradoxes were said to have been created by a Fey as the equivalent of kindergarten lessons for his offspring. I tried to find the evasion in Chauvelin’s words. But his denial seemed pretty forthright, and Bragi had said the chamber would punish anyone who lied.

  Perhaps the problem was in Athena’s question. She had not asked him directly about Hiromi’s actions, but rather to defend himself. I looked at Chauvelin. “Then tell me, what was the purpose of the Forest of Shadows in ordering Hiromi to set up the Silver Court brightbloods for attacking the alchemist?”

  In explaining the reason, he’d be acknowledging that they ordered it to begin with.

  Damien reappeared next to Chauvelin, and whispered into his ear. Chauvelin smiled, like a cat who has spotted a caged bird, and looked down at me.

  “Unfortunately, your question is based on a wrong assumption, and that is that the Forest of Shadows gave any such orders.”

  I frowned. “Just to be clear, when I said the Forest of Shadows, I wasn’t referring to the Greatwood, saying that a bunch of trees gave the order, I meant some representative of the Forest of Shadows Demesne.”

  Chauvelin shrugged. “Oh, I took the question as such, and still my answer remains the same. No representative or leader of the Forest of Shadows gave any such orders to the jorōgumo Hiromi, nor in fact have ever given any direct orders to her except through her Archon. Is that clear enough?”

  “Uh, I mean no offense, but, well, is it possible you weren’t informed of this particular communication?”

  “Yes, it is possible,” Chauvelin replied. “But we have ways of knowing what messages have been sent to our vassals, and I’ve just confirmed that no such messages were sent to Hiromi, with or without my knowledge. At least, not by the Forest of Shadows.”

  Shazbot.

  If there was some deception or evasion in his replies, I wasn’t smart enough to spot them. And if he was telling the truth, if the Forest of Shadows truly was innocent, at least of sending Hiromi against the Silver brightbloods, then I’d hit yet another dead end.

  Maybe that was a good thing? If the Shadows really weren’t behind Hiromi’s actions, maybe that meant they were not plotting war.

  But if they weren’t, then was someone else setting them up the same way I’d thought the Shadows were framing the Silver brightbloods?

  “If the Forest of Shadows didn’t give Hiromi her instructions, who did?” I asked.

  A Chaos Proxenoi, Set, scrunched his curved snout and said, “Let not our feet be set down paths o
f speculation, for that way lay danger to the purpose of the Colloquy.”

  Chauvelin gave a nod of his head. “Well said. None here would benefit from such conflict.” He frowned, and looked thoughtfully to the side. “Except the Silver Court, perhaps, sacrificing their pawns to set up the Shadows for a greater fall?”

  Athena stood up, her face flushing red.

  “How dare you accuse—!”

  “PEACE!” Bragi said, and turned to Chauvelin. “You shall refrain from guesses and wild accusations and speak only that which is certain and true, is that clear?”

  “Of course, my apologies,” Chauvelin said, giving a slight bow of his head in Athena’s direction. She hardly looked mollified, but she sat back down, appearing a bit unsteady as she did.

  Chauvelin smiled down at me. “Now, arcana, let me ask you: what could you hope to gain by coming and laying such false accusations against us? Or is this some kind of joke? You’ll have to forgive me, we Aalbright do not have your human proclivity for playing with the truth.”

  Silene prickled at Chauvelin’s words—thorns literally grew along her limbs—and she said, “Finn speaks the truth. I bore witness to many of the events he describes, and to the confession of the jorōgumo.”

  “Indeed?” Chauvelin said. “Tell me, vassal, to whom is your allegiance pledged?”

  Silene’s back straightened, and her chin lifted. “I am pledged to the Silver Court.”

  “Precisely. So you claim that Hiromi, a Shadows vassal, forced you and your followers to protest the actions of this alchemist?”

  “No, she—”

  “Perhaps you can share with us then why your followers were in the alchemist’s domain to begin with?”

  I took a step in Chauvelin’s direction. “Silene didn’t come here to be put on trial. She came here to be a witness, to prevent countless brightblood and Fey from dying—”

  “Is that a threat?” asked an Indian man in loose flowing robes.

  “What?” I said. “No! I—”

  “Proxenos Kautilya, if I may,” Chauvelin said. “Their accusations were against the Forest of Shadows.” He looked back down on Silene. “I repeat my question. Why were you there if not forced by Hiromi? Are you ashamed to say?”

  The thorns on Silene grew longer. “I have no reason to be ashamed. It is the alchemist and those who protect him who are to be ashamed. We were seeking to end the unfair exploitation of our kind by the alchemists and others, to gain the respect we deserve and greater equality—”

  “In other words,” Chauvelin said, “you pledged allegiance to the Silver Court, and yet are seeking to upset the carefully established balance between the arcana and your Bright Lords and Ladies. You did not trust in the Silver Court to protect you, or address your grievances, and so took the matter into your own hands?”

  Silene shrunk in on herself. “No, I—” She turned toward Athena and Oshun, a pleading look on her face. “Believe me, Bright Ladies, I meant no disrespect or—”

  “Enough!” Athena said. “You are—”

  Oshun put a hand on Athena’s arm, and smiled down at Silene. “Peace, child. And hold your thoughts within.” She looked to Chauvelin. “Whatever is the point of your questioning, come to it swiftly.”

  “With pleasure. My point is simply this,” Chauvelin said, and waved at me. “We have here an arcana once exiled by his own kind, one with reason to resent both our kind and his own, an arcana involved in the death of two Bright Guards at the end of his last visit.”

  “That was not my fault!” I said.

  “Pardon me,” Chauvelin said. “An arcana present when two Bright Guards were killed with magics that left him entirely unharmed and conveniently trapped one of our own within his body as a prisoner—”

  “Hey, if you think I wanted Alynon stuck in my head, you’re crazy!”

  “And yet, Alynon Infedriel, of the Silver Court, was ‘stuck in your head,’ present throughout these events you describe, no doubt telling you what to think of them, how to interpret them, for all we know making you see and hear whatever he willed—”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Would you know if it did?” Chauvelin replied. “Clearly you believe these accusations you’ve leveled against us, but just as clearly they are false, and a human’s capacity for self-deception and willful ignorance is famous, especially when such deceptions feed into their natural desires and prejudices.”

  “I don’t—” I began, but Chauvelin continued over me, turning to Athena and Oshun.

  “My point, fellow proxenoi, is that we have a story of Shadows conspiracy against the Silver Court. And who offers this story? An arcana who has something of a reputation for causing trouble. We have a Silver Court lordling who has an even greater reputation for the same, and could not even be bothered to speak here, perhaps not wishing to further tarnish his name. And last and certainly least, we have a half-bright vassal pledged to the Silver Court who dares to think herself not only our equal, but better than both us and the system we work so hard to maintain—”

  “No!” Silene shouted, frustration clear in her tone. “You’re twisting—”

  “Child,” Oshun said in a warning tone.

  “A vassal,” Chauvelin projected over her, “who cannot do what little she was made for, so would rather see us all burn, her own cousins die, than—”

  “Stop!” Silene cried out. A tangle of thorny vines each as thick as my wrist shot out from Silene’s feet in a line toward Chauvelin, springing up out of the smooth floor as if molded from the marble itself and turning brown and green as quickly as the eye could follow.

  “Cease!” Oshun shouted.

  A wall of light sprang up in a line from Athena’s aegis across the Quorum chamber. The racing thorns slammed into the wall and withered away, melting back into the floor.

  Two Fey who looked like meaner cousins of Chauvelin’s barbarian brute ran into the circle and grabbed Silene’s arms, apparently immune to the thorns. The Quorum burst into angry and excited arguing.

  “I’m sorry!” Silene said. “I didn’t know I could—I didn’t mean—”

  “Order!” Bragi said, pounding on the banister. “ORDER!” The second shout echoed directly in my head, ringing loud.

  The Quorum quieted.

  I cleared my throat. “Your, uh, Honor, that was an accident,” I said. “Chauvelin clearly provoked—”

  “Please be silent,” Bragi said, and turned to the Silver Court proxenoi. “The brightblood is your vassal. You must choose her fate.”

  Athena and Oshun exchanged words, then looked down at Silene. Oshun gave a sad smile, but Athena’s eyes held no compassion as she said, “Vassal, you have shown little of the dutiful devotion owed your patrons, and have violated the sacred peace of the Colloquy with your attack on a Proxenos. However, we do believe your intent in coming here was to prevent conflict, not cause it”—she looked up at Chauvelin—“and it is due to your lesser nature and poor control of will that this offense has been given.”

  Chauvelin opened his mouth to protest, but Oshun raised her hand and shook her head. He raised a single eyebrow but did not speak.

  Athena continued, “We therefore offer you a choice. You may forfeit your life for this offense, and word of your sacrifice to honor your patrons shall be passed to your followers as a source of inspiration to them; or you may return to your world alive, and you and all those who followed you in your foolish quest for power shall be stripped of our patronage and protection.”

  Silene closed her eyes, but she barely hesitated a second before saying, “I offer my life, Bright Ladies, and beg the forgiveness of all the Bright Lords and Ladies here for my offenses.”

  Chauvelin grinned.

  “What?” I said. “No!”

  Bragi said in a warning tone, “Ware, arcana, you have no authority here.”

  “Screw authority, what about what’s right?” I asked, my voice growing louder. “Silene came here to try and keep you all from kil
ling each other, and instead you’re going to punish her? How is that right? And you,” I said to Chauvelin. “You tricked her into losing control, and you know it. You want us to stop our accusations and leave? Fine, we’ll leave. But Silene doesn’t deserve to be punished for doing the right thing.”

  Chauvelin raised his hands in an innocent shrug. “I’m afraid it is out of my hands. She is not my vassal, and her actions cannot be wished away with insulting accusations against me.”

  “Finn, please,” Silene said. “You must stay, and discover the truth of Hiromi’s plot. My life is not as important as the lives of all who will be lost if war comes.”

  I looked up at the Quorum. “What if—I will share my memories. Finn’s Brain Buffet is hereby open and it’s all you can eat. You’ll have all the evidence you need of Hiromi’s actions, and Silene’s virtues. But you have to let Silene go without punishment.”

  “You do not understand,” Oshun said, sympathy in her tone. “There is an imbalance and great offense here that must be addressed. Silene represents the Silver. You do not.”

  “Indeed,” Chauvelin said. “And sadly, the Pax forbids such sharing of arcana memory outside of exile.”

  Yeah, he was clearly all kinds of sad about it.

  “Forest of Shadows,” Athena said. “Do you accept the punishment as satisfying the offense?”

  Chauvelin gave a regal nod. “We do.”

  Athena stood. “To that end, and by the Law of the Quorum, a Proxenos of the offending Demesne may upon their self take the chosen punishment of any vassal. I so exercise that right now.”

  That caused a wave of murmurs to pass through the gathered proxenoi, and Chauvelin stood as well, his eyebrows raised. Then a smile spread across his face like the joker spotting Batman entering a porta-potty.