“It is called obligation.”
“I don’t care to be obliging.” Dusting herself off, Escalla disengaged herself from her father’s arm. “Dad, why am I here?”
“You are here because a great day is here! A family day!” The faerie lord beamed. “The court has rescinded our exile. Clan Nightshade is to be brought back into the fold!”
The news hardly hit Escalla like a thunderbolt.
“Oh whoopee.”
“It’s provisional.” Escalla’s father took hold of her elbow and propelled her through the crowds. Scowling faeries made way as Jus and Polk lumbered in Escalla’s wake. “But here, you see? Old comrades all together once again. Old faces to rediscover!”
Escalla made a wry little expression. “I’ve never seen any of them before, Dad. We were exiled about a zillion years before I was born.”
“But comrades still! Kith and kin! Even representatives from the inner court itself!” Charn spread his hands to show his daughter that the palace halls were filled to overflowing. “Many of them will be staying here with us while a few formalities are handled, but it’s a new beginning for you. They want us to take the lead in wonderful new plans. It will be time for you, girl, eldest child of the clan head! Think of all the changes you can make!”
“Nothing changes, dad.” An old bitterness and nightmare shone through Escalla’s words. “You make castles out of clouds, mountains out of molehills, and nothing ever happens.”
Lord Charn looked left and right, used a spell to shield him from prying ears, and whispered cautiously in his daughter’s hair. “There has been a change in the power balance, and Nightshade holds the key. The clan that defeated and imprisoned the Faerie Queen of Wind and Woe, the clan that knows where she is hidden… we are about to become a power once again.”
The man clamped Escalla on the back, his voice picking up as his spell faded. “And so! Faces for you to know! New relatives! Kith and kin! Here is Faen, Lord Half Moon. Lord Faen is knowledge-keeper to the Seelie Court and advisor to Queen Titania herself.”
A thin faerie with a long wisp of a goatee gave Escalla a courtly bow. Several mages of the Half Moon clan stood with him, all sharing a conspirator’s smile with Escalla’s father before appraising the girl. Her outlandishly stark clothes and aggressive air seemed to meet their secret needs. They inclined their heads and turned to one another with significant little smiles as Escalla passed.
Jus trod carefully behind Lord Charn. Escalla was aware of him covering her back; she could feel the ranger watching her mother and her sister. Cinders’ tail wagged. Towing her through the room, Escalla’s father dragged her from one knot of courtiers to another.
“Ah! Escalla, here is Fareel, Lady Mantis.” A sorceress and her entourage bowed in a rattle of outlandish insectoid costumes. “Here is the priestess of Corellon and her acolytes. This is Jenna, princess of Clan Raven.” Suddenly his eye lighted on his true quarry. Escalla’s father seemed to swell with new energy. “Ah, and here is someone just for you!”
Waiting at the foot of a fountain stood a faerie cavalier, a youth eel-slim and armed with a delicate silver rapier. His black silk shirt had ribbons bound about the upper arms—kill ribbons from a dozen duels. The cavalier looked Escalla up and down. Her leathers were tight as a second skin and showed an astonishing amount of breast and thigh. She half turned, her figure svelte as a velvet cobra, and raked her audience with a haughty glare. The faerie cavalier preened his moustache and whispered approvingly into a neighbors ear, reaching out to take a tiny goblet of wine.
Jus had seen the faerie cavalier before. He had worn a blue silk cloak torn by Jus’ sword.
Beside the cavalier waited a dark haired faerie, the same flame robed lord she had noticed in the park outside. Kneeling orc slave girls made a bizarre, outlandish backdrop as they awaited their master’s word of command.
Lord Charn brought Escalla forward to the flame robed man.
“Ushan, Lord Sable, I present my Eldest Daughter, Escalla Brightflower, the Heiress Nightshade.” Escalla sniffed, looking dangerous, disdainful, and positively alien amidst so much splendor. “Escalla, Lord Ushan is chancellor to Queen Titania. Clan Sable is the right arm of the throne.”
Escalla shrugged. Her father happily dragged her past Lord Ushan and into the middle of Clan Sable. The young cavalier posed, smoothing his moustache as he awaited to greet her.
“Finally Escalla, the best comes last! This is the valiant Tarquil, cavalier of the Order of the Sunset, scion of Clan Sable, and nephew to Lord Ushan.”
Eagerly paternal, Lord Charn faced Escalla and Tarquil off against one another.
“Tarquil of Sable, I present Brightflower Maid, Princess Escalla.” The man gave a vast, expansive smile. “Your bride to be.”
It was amazing just how long polished wood could burn. One entire corner of the palace had gone up in flames from Escalla’s fireball. Walking over the deserted lawns, Jus came over to the edges of the blaze. He pulled a choice coal out of the ruins of the palace and popped it into the hell hound’s mouth. Cinders mumbled happily, making contented little noises.
Polk sat beaming happily into the empty air. Jus sighed, sat down facing him, and carefully removed his protective ring. He slipped the ring onto Polk’s finger then slapped the man hard across the face.
Polk’s eyes rekindled with wits. He turned a hurt expression on the Justicar. “Hey! Son, that hurt!”
“Good.” Jus relieved the teamster of his ring and put it back on his own hand. “You were under a charm spell.”
“Who me, son? Never! I was lulling, making a false impression, quieting their suspicions!” Polk swelled like a turkey in heat. “I’ve been freeing you for action. What are the faeries’ plans? Do they have a quest for us?”
“No.” Jus pulled his sword half from its sheath and inspected the weapon’s edge—sharp enough to shave hairs and flawlessly polished. “They’re trying to take Escalla.”
Polk stared in shock. “Will she go?”
“I don’t know.”
The thought of there being no Escalla seemed like a chunk torn out of Jus’ heart. Cinders fell quiet. Polk seemed to shrink. All three looked over the far end of the gardens, where a distant summer house lay beneath a giant cherry tree.
Jus looked away, slamming his sword back into its sheath. Aware that hundreds of faeries spied on him from afar, he pulled Cinders into his lap and silently brushed the hell hound’s fur.
* * *
In the summer house, Escalla stood facing her mother. The older woman kept her hands folded in her lap, her slanted eyes cold and serene. The woman had the same thin face and long, straight golden hair as her daughter, but there the resemblance ended. Escalla was a creature of pure passion, and she paced like a leopard in a cage.
“What the hell were you thinking—that I’d be a good daughter if you asked, that I never meant to run away?” Escalla whirled in a rage. “What? Are you totally stupid!”
Escalla’s father and sister stood by the windows. Tielle looked over at the burning north wing of the palace and smiled. “The prodigal returns.”
“You can shut up for a start! You spend about as much time at home as I do!” Escalla flung a bitter jab at her father. “If she wants to play at being the good girl, then have that Sable idiot marry her!”
“It must be the heir.” Lord Charn paced, no longer the happy father as he glared at his willful child. “To seal our return, we must marry our heir into the Seelie Court.”
“I’m not doing it!” Escalla flexed her fingers as though wanting to choke something. “I can’t believe you thought you could round me up like a wildcat and just marry me off!”
Escalla’s mother looked down her nose at the angry girl. “If necessary, a spell might calm you.”
“Just try it!”
Lord Charn chewed his moustache. Escalla had moved to a far window where she stared angrily out at her mortal friends. The faerie lord paced toward her, raising a spell to keep aw
ay curious ears and eyes.
“Daughter, this is the marriage of dreams. Clan Sable is at the pinnacle of the Seelie Court.”
“Well those are not my dreams!” The girl turned, and tears stood out in sharp green eyes that seemed so suddenly vulnerable. “Not my dreams!” Tired and trapped, Escalla ran fingers over her little skull. “It’s been five years. For Erythnul’s sake, how did you find me?”
“You happened to fall in range of our scrying spells just when your mother needed you.” The faerie lord twiddled his fingers. “It’s a big world. If you wanted to stay lost, you should have kept your distance and kept your shields up.”
“I have other uses for my spells. I do stuff these days! Important stuff! Stuff that matters!” Escalla rubbed her eyes. “Five years, Dad. Surely that was a clue that I’d gone for good.”
“A mayfly flicker.” Lord Charn waved a hand at the gardens. “Escalla, the council is almost at war over this. Clan Half Moon has convinced the queen to reprieve us. Clan Sable is furious. When Nightshade left the court, it was Sable that seized power. By welding Sable to Nightshade, we prevent a rift in the court! It is the only way to return and bring peace!”
“Why do they want us, dad? Why now?”
“Because they need what we can do.” Lord Charn paced the room beside his daughter. “We are the only clan with experience on the primal plane. We have spied and studied, intermingled and coexisted with the powers peculiar to this layer of the universe.”
“It sounds thin.” With the slowglass necklace clenched like brass knuckles in her hand, Escalla turned away. “Who’s this Tarquil, anyway? A damned duelist?”
“He’s a sorcerer and a swordsman.”
“A murderer.” Escalla tugged her clothing tight about her little frame. “I won’t do it.”
Escalla’s father put a denser shield between himself and his wife, then leaned quickly closer to his child. “Escalla! Your mother knows how much you value those mortal friends of yours. You refuse to do this, and she will kill them.”
The little faerie turned pale. She swung about to face the window. Behind her, Escalla’s father hissed quietly in her ear. “Escalla, do not underestimate your mother’s ambitions for power. The court means everything to her. Nothing else matters! If you want your friends to leave here alive, do exactly what she says. She will watch you, Escalla. Every word you say, every person you meet will be spied on. Your mother wants the Seelie Court in her hands.” Escalla’s father took the chance to kiss his daughter hurriedly on the ear, fearing his wife’s ability to break his spell. “It will be all right. You’ll get used to it. I’m doing what’s best for you.”
The moment passed. As Lord Charn’s spells faded, Escalla found herself staring blankly at a windowpane. Outside in the gardens, music and laughter sounded as alien and distant as the surging of a sea. Numb, Escalla flexed her hands, her mind blank of anything except her friends. Escalla’s mother waited. The girl bowed her head and looked blankly at the floor.
“I will marry Tarquil.”
* * *
Jus and Polk rose from the grass where they had sat waiting for a long and silent hour. Finally they saw two small figures approaching them from the garden path. Dressed in sheer white lace, Tielle drifted coyly above the ground. Beside her, a little figure in mother-of-pearl silk flew in quiet misery.
Escalla landed before Jus and Polk. She wore her shimmering gray dress demurely. Her blonde hair had been pulled back, and her leathers were bundled in one hand. The girl dropped her clothes at Jus’ feet and stared palely at the grass.
“Justicar.”
“Lady Brightflower.”
Jus’ voice was hoarse and quiet. He looked down at the delicate little faerie before him and felt infinitely sad. Escalla curtsied to him slowly, unable to meet his eye.
“Justicar, there is a time in all lives when… when a change must come.” The girl’s voice caught in her throat. “For the good of those we love, we have to… to accept what has to be.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Escalla’s head bowed. A tear fell to speckle the back of one daintily gloved hand.
“We… we have spoken of philosophy, you and I. Remember what we once said about what we owe to future generations? Can you picture it clearly in your mind?”
“Yes, my lady.” The Justicar remembered. “You showed me the way that new ideas grow.”
“Then you will know how much I owe to my family and my clan. You know that I now wish to leave my life of wandering and embrace the court. I must leave you and do what is right and proper.”
Jus bowed his head and slowly closed his hands. “Yes, my lady.”
“I… I will be married in three days time. I do not think we will meet again.”
Escalla jerked away and hid her face. Bored by the tedium of it all, Tielle clicked her fingers and summoned a serving girl.
“Justicar, Clan Nightshade wishes to thank and reward you for your services as guard and guide to our daughter.” Tielle seemed in a hurry to be elsewhere. “Escalla has indicated suitable gifts.”
The girl allowed her servant to pass out the items one by one.
“Polk. To you, we offer this magic wine bottle. Speak into the bottle’s mouth, and it will refill itself one thousand times with whatever liquor you care to name.”
Looking desolate and appalled, Polk numbly accepted the bottle. Tielle took another gift from the serving girl behind her.
“For the hell hound, we offer this. It is a vial containing all the scents we have found in many worlds. A toy, but you may have some pleasure from it.” Escalla’s sister turned a measured glance at the Justicar. “For you, Justicar, we offer these scrolls. We are told spells are something you can utilize. Also, Escalla says you have need of diamond dust.”
The huge man bowed slowly and said, “I thank you.”
“Escalla asks that you take her old clothes with you when you go. She never wishes to see them again.”
Escalla slowly walked over to stand before the Justicar. Still unable to lift her face, she held out her tiny hand. “Good-bye, Justicar.”
“Good-bye, my lady.” The Justicar knelt, closed his eyes for a long moment, and quietly kissed her hand. Faerie tears stung salt into his lips. “It has been a privilege and a pleasure to serve you.” Faerie fingers squeezed Jus’ hand. “May justice forever be yours.”
He rose and bowed. A servant held out a hand to show him to a gate that led back to the world of summer rainstorms and morning frost. Escalla turned away, unable to watch him go. One hand covered her face, and the other clutched tightly against her heart.
* * *
Dawn in the faerie lands was an arbitrary affair. If it had been inconveniently pale, bright or rainy, one or more faeries would have been sure to smooth it over with illusions. The illusions were easily seen through by those who could be bothered, but few bothered. The faeries drew few lines between illusion and reality, preferring to discuss the virtues of real versus unreal for long hours over steaming cups of tea. Or possibly cups of not-tea. Illusion had a way like that.
Sitting in a room decorated for a good little daughter, Escalla propped her elbows on her knees and sighed. These were not her old rooms. Those had been turned into guest apartments long ago, and Tarquil now snored in Escalla’s old bed. Mother had created a new room for her errant daughter, one more suitably fashioned to her image of the perfect child.
The decor was mostly fuchsia pink. Escalla felt her entire intestinal tract rebel.
She sat looking into the slowglass gem. A white wedding dress as big as a whale hung from one wall—a dress covered with seed pearls and beautiful enough to stop any normal woman’s heart. There were paintings on the wall, real paintings. There were color shifting rugs upon the floor—unreal. The view from the windows showed any one of a dozen illusory scenes of imagined grandeur. It all had the grainy, almost greasy quality that Escalla had come to associate with all her childhood memories.
All of her memori
es before she escaped into the real world . . .
Wearing a dress simply felt weird, but Escalla bore it. She sat staring at the fantasies conjured by the windows, until a knock at the door brought a presence sweeping into her room.
With a flurry of servants and a flutter of gorgeous wings, Cavalier Tarquil stood at the entrance of Escalla’s apartment and sank into a rather oily bow.
“Brightflower Maid! How much more refreshing than the dawn is your brilliant smile.”
Escalla rose, flipped out her wings, and made a curtsy carefully measured to keep the suitor at bay. Even so, she felt his eyes travel down her cleavage as she bowed. Escalla hissed, caught herself, and pulled part of her face into a smile.
Her mother had spies all around. A scrying spell would be on her, and there would be an invisible creature lurking in every room. In a society of shapeshifters, any object of the right size and mass was instantly suspect. Escalla had already kicked most of the furniture and felt tremors of pain in reply.
They were watching her for spells, for any attempt to escape. They would be reporting Escalla’s right behavior to a mother who was as deadly as a dracolich. Escalla kept her face stiff and her thoughts to herself as she turned to invite the cavalier onto her balcony.
“Cavalier.”
The man had a bodyguard, a scarred duelist from his own clan that clandestinely cast a detection spell. Leading the way to the balcony, Escalla caught the motion from the corner of her eye.
“Oh, I can assure you we are being watched. There’s no point in wasting a spell.”
“Ah, dear maid. It is not whether there is a spell, but who has thrown the spell.” Tarquil’s voice was polished and as silky as his silver sword. “Sad to say, a man can sometimes acquire enemies.”
Cavalier Tarquil wore twelve kill ribbons on his sleeves—mementos of duels gone by. Escalla gave a sarcastic lift of her eye and said, “I can’t imagine why.”
“You disapprove of dueling, dear?” Tarquil snapped his fingers. A servant ran forward to supply him with wine. “It is a righteous sport.”
Descent into the Depths of the Earth Page 8
