Fury Convergence

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  Branwyn subjected this to more scrutiny than it really warranted, then turned around and walked backward. Severin stalked behind them, his hands in his pockets. The cliff was very tall, with icicles stretching from the ground to the cliff-top in many places. If there was anything atop it, she still couldn’t see it. It curved away at the horizons where dark trees took over.

  “Aren’t you getting snow in your shoes?” asked Rhianna.

  “It was going to happen anyhow,” said Branwyn, but turned around again. “Did you have a plan for if Summer had remembered her own rule about taking more than two dares in a row?”

  Rhianna rubbed her hands over her pale arms. “It was your turn, not mine. You would have come up with something.”

  “Your faith in me is terrifying,” said Branwyn, annoyed.

  Rhianna blew on her hands, and her warm breath went right through her fingers. Branwyn’s insides twisted up, but all Rhianna said was, “If it had been me, I would have encouraged her to show us those caves and then set up a few more rounds until a dare came around again. She wouldn’t have made it hard.”

  At that moment, something heavy and dark dropped over Branwyn’s head, then slithered into her arms. She found herself holding an oversized navy parka while Rhianna struggled her way out from under a stylish black coat.

  “You’re not much use to me if I have to keep chasing away frostbite,” said Severin acidly.

  Rhianna slipped the black coat on at once, wrapping it around her and tying the belt. The crispness of the coat only emphasized the scattering of light under her skin that made her look half-empty.

  Branwyn dragged her gaze back to Severin, who had swapped his most recent shirt for a long-sleeved gray sweater, and made herself imagine his laundry bill instead of Rhianna’s condition. Or did he go to laundromats? She carefully arranged the navy parka over her arm. “What about you? Where’s your coat?”

  Rhianna said, “You know, Branwyn, from anybody else I’d call that concern but from you, it just sounds like you’re picking a fight.”

  “She is,” said Severin shortly. He put his extremely warm hand on Branwyn’s cheek. “I’m a lot better designed than you, cupcake, and I’m not particularly trying to blend in here.”

  Branwyn scowled and reached up to pull aside his sweater neckline, revealing the scar her hammer had inflicted almost a year ago. “How come you still have that, anyhow? I’ve seen you heal from worse injuries a half-dozen times now.”

  He gave her an annoyed look. “I kept it as a constant reminder of the pleasure of your company.” Then his eyes raised to the horizon, and he said in a different voice, “Put the coat on. Start walking again. That way.” He started hiking across the snowfield again, at a slight angle from their earlier heading.

  Branwyn said, “So what’s the plan when we find the kids?” as she put on the parka. It was heavy and too big and smelled like Severin. It also had huge pockets with absolutely nothing in them, not even lint. She wondered what had been there before he cleaned them out.

  “We grab Charlie and get her back to Imani,” said Severin, still focused on the horizon.

  Branwyn, eyeing Rhianna’s emptiness, approved of that idea. Presumably once the haunt shut down, the soul charges wouldn’t be compelled to return to the ghost that had bound them.

  Firmly, Rhianna said, “No snatching Charlie until we’ve worked out a release schedule.”

  Severin stopped, though he didn’t turn. “That seems like a bad plan.”

  Branwyn said, “This is the worst thing I’ve ever said, but I think he’s right. We need to get that haunt shut down.”

  Distantly, Rhianna said, “Just the day before yesterday, you said you wouldn’t trade a kid to Severin to pay a debt. But you’d sell seventy to… what?” Her eyes sparkled unnaturally as she looked over at Branwyn. “Are you going to tell me this is about saving the world?”

  Branwyn’s hands clenched in the parka’s pockets. She’d seen the Wild Hunt at work. They’d try to help the haunt as long as it remained harmless, but she didn’t believe for a moment they’d take risks once it fully reactivated. “No. It’s not.”

  “Watch out,” said Severin as a vibration stirred the snow. He took one step backward as moving shapes Branwyn hadn’t noticed before shot toward them. Then, with the sound of thunder, the herd of heavy-coated horses swept past them before wheeling and pounding off parallel to the cliff face.

  “Playing,” said Severin, flicking kicked up snow off himself. “There’s people the way they came.”

  “We’re going to find the Saint, and thank him for rescuing the kids, and talk to him about getting them home again,” said Rhianna determinedly as she struck out in the indicated direction. “That’s how we’re starting this. Having Sev, who has a convenient wardrobe but a really bad local reputation, grab one of the Saint’s wards and vanish with her is going to sabotage everything. Once we have a good working relationship established, we can extract Charlie first and directly.” She shaded her eyes. “There are people. I think they’re ice skating.”

  Branwyn followed Rhianna in silence. They didn’t know anything about the Saint yet. And they had time. Rhianna would be fine. And later, she could deal with… everything else, everything else she’d pressed firmly down into the wells of darkness.

  After a few minutes, they had a good view of the frozen pond where a dozen children skated. Some distance beyond the pond rose a large alpine lodge with outbuildings and cottages surrounding it. An evergreen forest filled in the far distance.

  Beside the pond were two sleighs with empty traces. Two puppet-like figures sat on the sleighs, while three arctic wolves lounged on the pond bank.

  Severin scanned the scene, then said, “No Saint there. You two make nice with the kids while I scout around.” He dropped back behind Rhianna and Branwyn.

  Rhianna kept hiking forward, but said quietly, “Will you stop him from attacking the Saint if it comes to that?”

  Branwyn hesitated. “I don’t think it will. He practically told us he didn’t think he’d win that fight.”

  “Can you tell if he’s lying?”

  “I…” Branwyn’s pulse quickened, and she shook her head. “No. But I’ve never seen him present himself as weaker than he is.”

  “Right.” They both watched as the white wolves on the shore of the pond noticed them, grouped up, and started advancing toward them with a distinctly unfriendly air. “The Saint’s… a werewolf? I’m confused.”

  “Let’s stop,” said Branwyn, taking Rhianna’s icy hand. “I don’t want to make them nervous.”

  The kids noticed when the wolves grouped up. The pond fell silent. Then one of the taller boys said something to another one, and they kicked something off their feet and started running after the wolves. A moment later most of the other children followed them.

  Since the advancing wolves weren’t running, soon the entire mass of kids caught up. The first boy darted in front of the wolves while the second one grabbed two of them by their ruffs and mostly failed to hold them back.

  “Hi,” said the first boy. “You shouldn’t be here. You should probably go.”

  “Hi. I’m not sure we can,” said Branwyn. “Although if your dogs are going to bite us, I’ll at least run back the way I came.”

  “Uh… stop it, Snowball! They’re not hurting us. They’re not even that old.” He knelt and wrapped his arms around the third wolf’s shoulders.

  Then the other children arrived, pouring over the wolves and surrounding Branwyn and Rhianna. They were all dressed in solid winter wear of natural origin, and they seemed well-fed and energetic, which boded well. The Saint clearly cared for their well-being.

  A flurry of questions and comments avalanched over the women: Who were they, where had they come from, were they humans, they looked like humans, the Saint would be mad, could they ice skate, where were their mittens and boots, did they see the horses…?

  “Hey, hey, quiet!” said the first boy. “Well, I guess it�
�s too late now. I’m Matthew. Uh… our guardian will be here soon. I’m not sure if you’re faeries in disguise or actually human, but… don’t try to buy us from him if you want to stick around for a while.”

  “Buy you?” asked Branwyn. But as soon as she said it, she didn’t need an answer. To some faeries, the Saint’s March must have looked like a mortal ranch. “Of course not. I’m Branwyn. This is Rhianna.” She stopped short, unwilling to introduce their mission when she didn’t know the provenance of the children before her.

  “We’re human,” said Rhianna lightly. “I take it you are too. How did you get here?”

  Matthew said, in a noticeably neutral tone, “He rescued us.” He turned and scanned the horizon. “He’s coming now. You’ll have to talk to him.”

  Rhianna responded by kneeling and talking instead to the smaller children, who hadn’t stopped trying to seize attention. “Yes, I saw the horses. Are they your horses? What’s your wolf’s name? I’m a little afraid of ice skating. And I forgot my mittens.”

  Branwyn listened with half an ear while she watched the figure Matthew had identified. He was a big man, in a heavy brown coat with a fur-lined hood, and followed by a handful of children, another of the puppet-like individuals, and a fourth wolf. He walked swiftly and easily through the snow, unconcerned by the slower pace of kids following him.

  As he passed the pond, Branwyn realized he had a neatly trimmed, full white beard. She’d never seen any faerie with a beard before, although she had no doubt they existed. But something about this beard bothered her. She felt, peculiarly, like it ought to be longer, wilder. She wondered if it somehow related to his faeling nature.

  The Saint stopped abruptly to stare at them, then started walking again, his stride even longer. As he came into hearing range, the children crawling over Rhianna and staring at Branwyn suddenly scattered out of the way. It was like they were getting out of the line of fire, and Branwyn couldn’t forget Matthew’s first words: you shouldn’t be here.

  Even considering the white beard, the Saint was a surprisingly attractive older man. He was bulky, but it was the bulk of muscle rather than fat. His eyes were a striking dark blue, and not nearly as angry as the children had suggested he would be.

  He stopped a few yards away from them as Rhianna climbed to her feet, inspecting them. Then he smiled, his white teeth dazzling in his weathered face and met Branwyn’s eyes. “You are the wonderworker.” He tapped a finger on the side of his nose. “I too, once upon a time.”

  17

  Sainthome

  Branwyn stared at the Saint and managed, “You… you are?” just as Rhianna tried to break her fingers. Judging from Rhianna’s subsequent sigh, Branwyn was sure she’d scuttled whatever inspiration Rhianna had caught. But since she’d already she screwed up, why not ask more? “You’re an Artificer? I thought…”

  “I was, girl. It went with my humanity. Still. A pleasure to meet somebody from those days.” His smile twisted wryly. “Clearly, you didn’t come to beg for my ancient wisdom, though.”

  “I didn’t,” said Branwyn frankly. “But I would have.” She looked around him at the puppet-like creature that had followed him and now saw it was a clockwork simulacrum of a human, with oversized joints. Simply from the way it gazed back at her, the gears in its eyes whirring, she knew it had multiple nodes. It took Rhianna squeezing her hand to remind her that here and now was not the time to study it.

  “Well, if your sister and yonder boogieman had come calling without you, I would have sent them on their way. But… it’ll be nice to chat with another wonderworker again, so you three can stay for a little while.” He added in a lower, conspiratorial voice, “That’ll give you a chance to make your case about the actual reason you came.”

  The Saint looked between Rhianna and Branwyn, not missing the clutched hands. “I’ll have you walk in, though, while I take the children back to get washed for dinner. I expect you’ll need the time to whistle back the dark one.” He paused, then added, “I’m not inclined to be disagreeable right now. I hope that doesn’t change. I don’t like upsetting the children.” He gave them a nod, half-turned and added, “Mind the horses.”

  With a thunder of hooves, the herd of furred horses swept around them, galloping to the pond and around it, where eight of them peeled off to skid to a stop near the sleighs. The Saint roared, “Time for dinner, children.”

  “Why do we have to walk, again?” asked Branwyn as the horses were hitched to the sleighs and the sleighs loaded with children faster than humanly possible. Then she glanced at Rhianna. “What’s wrong?”

  Rhianna had a ghastly grin, her eyes wide. “I will end him.”

  “Who?” Branwyn’s anxiety spiked. Did this relate to Rhianna’s empty glint?

  “My Advisor,” said Rhianna, like it was a filthy phrase. “My Advisor and his ideas on information security.”

  Branwyn let her breath out long and slow. “Oh.” She thought. “Yeah. Imagine the schemes you could have come up with if we’d known from the beginning about this Artificer thing.”

  “We wouldn’t even have had to pay you! You could have visited him for totally legitimate reasons and you would have gotten involved all by yourself!”

  “Yeah—hey!”

  “I would have come too, of course,” added Rhianna. “Just like now.”

  “But you wouldn’t have told me?” Branwyn demanded.

  Rhianna patted her shoulder. “It would have been my job, not yours. And besides, I’m the trickster. My Advisor is the one who insisted we be as honest as possible so why does he… argh!” She actually stomped her foot in the snow.

  Branwyn stared at her sister, mesmerized. It was somehow… all right that her sister would have done that, even though Branwyn would never do the same. That was Rhianna, who was more than Branwyn’s little sister.

  Except I did lie to her. And uselessly, only for myself. Who the hell do I think I am?

  Branwyn shook her head hard. Priorities. She would save her sister and then deal with facing herself in the mirror.

  “Now you look like you’ve swallowed a lemon. Why?” asked Rhianna, finally disentangling their hands.

  “I’m worried about you,” said Branwyn shortly, more honest than ordinary, because she’d lied before.

  “Oh.” Rhianna shifted her bags and turned away to scan the horizon. “Where’s our boogieman, do you think?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” snapped Branwyn, hurt by her sister’s reaction. She started walking toward the sleigh tracks. Then she stopped. “I do care. I’m sorry. I just… hate being his leash.”

  “Yeah,” said Rhianna, her voice odd. “It’s pretty weird to feel like your main value is as a messenger between two other people.”

  Branwyn technically understood subtext was occurring, but she’d accidentally tapped one of her dark wells and couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “I mean, I can say I won’t call him all I want, but what does hiking downstairs matter if, as soon as somebody else asks, I just do it? Oh, sure, because it’s practical or easiest, but where does that stop?” She caught herself and dragged in a deep breath, firmly closing the metaphorical tap. “Right. I’m sorry. You said something?”

  Rhianna gave her a thoughtful look, then put her hands around her mouth and shouted “Severin!!”

  An instant later, Branwyn felt the brush across the back of her neck. “He’s coming,” she said glumly. Her sister’s effort was sweet, and just made her feel guilty.

  A moment later, Severin stepped past her, hands in his pocket as he raised both eyebrows at Rhianna.

  Rhianna came sharply to attention, ripping off a salute. “Commander Boogieman, I, Cadet Little Sister and First Lieutenant Wonderworker there have reports to make!”

  “Hey, wait. Why is he a Commander?” Branwyn protested.

  Rhianna covered her mouth so she could speak from the side. “His ego.”

  “It’s nice you feel like you had the time to put this act together,”
said Severin acidly. “I didn’t catch what the Saint said because I was busy with his pets. Should I go back to that?”

  “He used to be an Artificer,” said Branwyn bluntly. “Out of… professional courtesy, he’ll allow us to visit and ask him things.”

  Severin’s left hand curled into a fist. “Isn’t that convenient.”

  Rhianna jumped up and down, pointing at Severin. “You understand! You do! Isn’t he awful?”

  “Oh, come on, you two,” said Branwyn, looking between them. “Obviously Umbriel didn’t warn us because he could see the two of you would invent some trick, probably using me, and just as obviously, tricks like that will screw this up.”

  Both of them looked at her, with eerily similar dark looks. Rhianna scowled. “You would see his point of view.”

  “That only makes me want to kill him even more,” said Severin. “Fine. I didn’t see Charlie, but I saw plenty of other kids. Let’s get over there and ask him things.”

  They followed the sleigh trail. “Based on what he said, I’m sure he knows why we’re here,” said Rhianna. “And he’s willing to negotiate with us as long as we behave.”

  “I’m not waiting around through another slumber party,” warned Severin.

  Rhianna grimaced. “Honestly, I’d rather slumber than party at this point. It’s been a long day.”

  Briskly, Branwyn said, “No slumber parties. And you can nap while I grill him about Artificer stuff, Rhianna. I’m sure that was definitely on the negotiating table.”

  “You just want the excuse to talk shop,” said Rhianna with a smile.

  As they passed through the cluster of cottages in front of the lodge, one of the clockwork people opened the lodge’s door and came out to wait for them. Once again, Branwyn resisted distracting herself with the Sight, but she did wonder if the proper term was ‘robot’ or ‘golem.’