This gave him the luxury to turn his attention to other matters. He needed to change his clothes and grooming before going into the mortal world. As it was, he looked like exactly what he was: a wild-haired changeling soldier of a faerie Duke. Sometimes the greater faeries referred to his kind as goblins, although one and all they’d been human once and mostly still bore the basic look. But the differences stood out; he’d have no chance of speaking with anybody close to the mortal leader if he didn’t adopt their look.
There was a way station near the soft spot where he intended to depart the road: one of the safe structures maintained by the road itself. It would be stocked with basic supplies, which probably included a mirror or paintings. With either of those, he would be able to approximate some acceptable mortal garb.
In this case, it turned out to have something even better.
A greater faerie loitered within, smoking a long cigarette and laying back on a plush leather couch. When William stepped inside, they sat up, flicking ash hair away from their face. “Ooh, have you come to bring some fun to my dreary day?”
William paused on the threshold, inspecting the faerie. They wore one long sleeve and one short, and a buttery bodice that billowed at the top and clung at the waist, over trousers that shimmered like metallic zebra skin. “Your Magnificence. Are you serving here?”
The faerie pouted. “Penance. I’d much rather be doing something else, believe me, but first I have to pay my dues. Who are you, little goblin?”
William bowed and introduced himself properly. The faerie noble didn’t return the favor, nor did William expect them to. Instead William just categorized them as Their Magnificence, from the Duchy of Arcwine, and hoped they were feeling benevolent. Otherwise, Tarn might have a mess to clean up later.
“Off to the mortal world, I imagine,” said Their Magnificence, giving William a keen, knowing look. “Well, I can make you over however you wish, but in return you must create a memory for me.”
“What sort?” William put his gear on the floor and stretched, quite used to the faerie noble’s expression. It was the look of one artisan assessing the craftsmanship of another. But William knew he was good work.
“Oh, I’m not particular. Go find something you wish you had but never will, and experience it for me. Then come back and I’ll pluck it straight from your pattern, a gift from you to me.” Their Magnificence beamed.
“Not particular at all,” said William wryly. But it was a reasonable payment compared to what the faerie could have demanded. When a waykeeper was in residence, they were required to serve, but they had the power to state their own price: time, trinkets, a service in return. William had paid in blood before, and not his own. A memory would be easy.
He thought about the kind of memory, then amended the thought to, mostly easy. More importantly, he didn’t have time to haggle. “Agreed.”
“Exquisite,” cooed Their Magnificence and stretched their fingers. “Where shall you be playing? The beach? The stage? Will you be in front of a camera? I can make you look as stunning on camera as you are right here, despite the wretched quality of the lighting there.”
“No appearing on cameras,” said William firmly. “I need to look respectable. Trustworthy.” He hesitated then added, “Inconspicuous.”
Their Magnificence frowned. “In that body? What is your lord about, I wonder? No, no, don’t tell me. I’d only find myself in more trouble.” They whisked a thin crystalline tube out of thin air and spun it between their fingers. “Well, as it happens, I know exactly what to do. There were a great number of that sort interfering in my last jaunt. I shan’t give you a gun, though. Nasty things.”
“Probably for the best.” William watched the spinning rod warily. Their Magnificence was looking anywhere but him as the rod danced over their fingers. It made William remember long ago: a different lordling, a mortal one, and a trap sprung. He didn’t let himself tense up, but he held onto his memory of what had come after, of Tarn holding him, like it was a talisman of protection.
Suddenly the wand snapped forward, pointing at William. “Hey, presto.” Sparkling light flared around him. The magic crept over him, starting with his fingertips, mingling with Tarn’s magic in a way that was strange but not unpleasant. It spread up his arms and across his face, and down his chest and thighs, culminating at his toes.
As the light faded away, Their Magnificence flopped back on the couch, putting their arm over their eyes. “Done. Now please leave before I’m forced to gaze upon what I’ve done to you.”
William took a moment to inspect himself. His very useful claws had been trimmed down and his boots were now stiff, tough shoes. He wore black slacks and a tie around his neck. And his hair was smoothed down.
“There’s a pair of sunglasses in your pocket,” added Their Magnificence, as if describing a tragedy. “Go, go. It’s not going to last. I could hardly get my will behind it.”
William glanced at his gear on the ground: the spear, the belt with the knife, the helmet. Then he turned and left it behind. Gear was replaceable and, in this case, time was not.
Returning to the road, he reached the soft spot in the Veil after a short hike. Going through was just a matter of tuning himself to the right shift and then stepping forward.
But it didn’t work out quite that easily. The Veil wasn’t as soft was it should have been. When he should have felt the fabric between worlds parting around him, he instead felt a sense of vertigo. Something spun him like he was playing a children’s game, and when the mists cleared away, he wasn’t where he expected to be: within sight of the great white monuments of elder statesmen.
Instead he was in a narrow alley that opened onto an anonymous city street. There were two lanes of vehicle traffic, small shops lining the sidewalk, and a distinct air of poverty. He emerged from the alley, shook the unfamiliar clothing into something resembling comfort and strode down the street, looking for some hint as to where he was. Hopefully he hadn’t been spun too far off course, or he’d have to resort to something dramatic.
He hadn’t expected interference before he even arrived in the mortal world. It meant that the earthly powers had found a way to influence the Veil—a way that didn’t rely on any faeries. As far as he knew, the faeries were the only public manifestation of the supernatural—so who was the white palace working with to protect itself?
Something caught his eye: a store crammed between a pawn shop and a payday loan service. CHARMS OF PROTECTION said the window lettering, and KEEP YOURSELF SAFE FROM THE STRANGERS. The shop had crystals and leather-bound diaries and tarot cards in the window, but they were scattered around like set dressing. Printed on a card was a very credible Geometric diagram, illustrating the circle of binding that actual mortal practitioners of magic used to construct what they, yes, called charms.
Despite his hurry, he went inside. It was set up as a bookstore, but the few shelves were sparsely populated. There was quite a display of small crystal pendants on a large rack near the counter, with more expensive necklaces under the glass.
The man behind the counter had wild salt-and-pepper hair and a friendly smile. But he was dressed in a suit as tailored as William’s, which meant William’s first thought was: one of Their Magnificence’s ‘ordinary men with guns?’
“What can I do for you today?” said the man, and the way his eyes went over William’s clothes reinforced William’s first impression. This was a man prepared for William to say anything. And the magic he’d hung about his person made it clear he was just as prepared for William to do anything.
“Why the pendants?” asked William. They were ordinary pieces of costume jewelry: cheap polished rocks in steel settings.
“Ah, those would be the charms,” said the shopkeeper. “We have to bind them to you, of course. A brief ritual.”
William narrowed his eyes. “No. Why the pendants really?”
The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes right back, this time clearly looking past William’s clothes. “A
h.” His entire posture changed. Instead of radiating ‘friendly, helpful shopkeeper,’ he became wary, territorial. Then he made a conscious effort to relax, pulling a pipe from behind the counter and fidgeting with it. “Well, they’re props. Clients don’t believe we’ve done anything unless they get something to take home. We thought about a nice embossed certificate of Now Resistant To You Bastards, but the pendants seem to go over best.”
“Who’s we?” asked William, letting the You Bastards slide. Most of his fellows were, after all. By one definition or another.
“Oh, a loose organization of like-minded individuals,” said the shopkeeper-wizard. “Just a few of us who didn’t feel like waiting around for the folks on Capitol Hill to organize an official way of protecting our citizens from folks like you.”
William was pretty sure the shopkeeper had his hands on the magical equivalent of a shotgun behind the counter. If this had been playtime, he would have amused himself with a little provocation. But his master would not approve, not on this mission of goodwill.
“Well done,” he said, instead. “And is your ‘loose association’ also responsible for the misdirection around that region of the city?”
The shopkeeper’s look became thoughtful. “I just run the shop.” He finished working on his pipe. “I don’t have anything to sell to your kind, so you might as well run along.”
William hesitated, curious just how far the shopkeeper’s connections went. Perhaps it would be better to warn him—and his organization—of Yeracha’s impending tantrum. Surely Tarn would value increased goodwill with a group of mortal wizards—William was sure they had some connection to the government—more than William wasting time trying to get to the Commander in Chief.
But there was no voice in his head instructing him one way or another. He would have to decide on his own.
William thought about it a moment more as the shopkeeper became increasingly uncomfortable. No, he decided. This person wouldn’t understand Tarn’s motivations. He turned and went to the door, then said, “What you do here… it is a good thing.”
The shopkeeper blinked. “You think so? Hah, I don’t believe you.”
William spread his fingers. “The ones who don’t wish to play ought to have at least a little protection. We aren’t monsters.” He gave a little smile. “That’s another set of individuals entirely.”
When he left the store, he heard the man come around the counter to watch his departure. Perhaps he’d planted a seed for Tarn’s future plans. He could be proud of that.
But time ticked away, and he had no more to spend on side projects. He went to the end of the narrow street and turned down a larger one. He still didn’t quite know where he was, but the streets were full of drivers who did. Some of them wanted paying, and some of them were private citizens, and oh so few of them carried protective charms.
He started out with a bus, waving a glamoured leaf at the bus driver as he stepped on. He wasn’t quite sure what the driver saw instead of the leaf, but William intended it to be something official that would negate the need for a fare. And it worked to get him on the bus—but he drew attention as he moved down the crowded vehicle. All the seats were taken. He found a place apart from the other standees and gazed out the window until he realized people were staring at him.
One little boy with a purple smear around his mouth said, “Do you have a gun, mister?”
William thought about what he’d promised Their Magnificence and didn’t answer. And as soon as the bus rolled into a transit center, he left. His glamoured leaf would serve him just as well with a taxi, even if some of them seemed to have the kind of magical protection sold by the shop. That was the advantage of glamouring an object: it wasn’t enchanting a person, it was tricking the world.
He found one waiting, driven by a woman with her hair cut short; the license hanging from the roof read ‘Joanne Harrison.’ She gave him a wary look as he climbed inside but when he told her where he wanted to go, she relaxed and pulled out into traffic.
William leaned back and looked out the window. The driver had a talk radio station on. The voices were arguing about what had happened when the Faerie Court called Moonspindle had pulled a meteor down into the heart of China. They were wrong, as mortals usually were. And they didn’t seem to understand that Moonspindle was a sovereign entity, just as China was. After that, they went on to talk about Bonefete and what they were doing in Russia. It was amazing. They could actually use the right names but still assume they were both arms of a single tentacular beast.
William shook his head and said, “Is this all they talk about?”
The driver glanced in her rearview mirror and frowned faintly as she met his gaze. Then she shrugged. “It’s big news. I haven’t gotten bored yet. Have you?”
“Bored isn’t the word I’d use, exactly. Surprised, maybe. Once upon a time, we had other things to worry about. Wars. Human monsters.” He glanced out at the clouded sky. “The weather.”
“But this changes so much,” argued the driver. “What they can do, what they might do.”
“Not as much as you think,” murmured William. “Life does go on.”
Joanne didn’t seem to hear him. “I mean, this group, Bonefete. What if they decide to help Russia take over Ukraine?”
“Does Russia need Bonefete’s help against this other country? What did you call it?” William asked.
She gave him a puzzled look. “Ukraine. Well… what if Bonefete helped Ukraine instead?”
William thought about Bonefete, beholden to Air and Winter, and traditionally aligned against Underlight. “Perhaps that might keep them busy for a time. Although I imagine they’re unlikely to help anybody.”
“Well, yes. There’s that, too.” When William didn’t respond, the driver fell silent, listening to her radio station again.
William leaned back against the seat, modeling approaches to his target. If the glamoured leaf worked as well on the target’s bodyguards as it did on random citizens of the capital, it wouldn’t be nearly as challenging as he anticipated. All he needed was a few minutes, and then it didn’t matter what happened to him. They could capture him or slay his body, and Tarn would still gather him home again.
Though if he came back to Faerie without procuring a payment for Their Magnificence, it could cause some annoyance to his Lord. Best to deal with that first. It wouldn’t take long. He opened his eyes to ask the driver to adjust their destination and stopped as her gaze met his in the mirror. The car jolted before her gaze flicked away and the ride smoothed out again.
Frowning, William moved until he could see himself in the mirror. The magic pasted on him by Their Magnificence was already fading: his hair had returned to its normal spikes, and the smooth blandness of his features had subtly shifted back toward Tarn’s personal handiwork. At least the suit remained pristine, although that didn’t do much to offset his annoyance. He’d probably still pass for mortal. To anybody who wasn’t looking closely. But it’d be that much harder for the glamoured leaf to act as his pass card now.
In a determinedly breezy voice, the taxi driver said, “Have you come for the hearings? They won’t let you in, you know.”
“The hearings?” William slouched back again, putting one foot up on the back of the seat in front of him and watching out the window for some sign the driver had changed her heading without being asked.
“Oh, come on.” The breezy tone vanished. “The Congressional hearings about the faeries. About your kind.”
“Oh,” said William. Tarn had mentioned those once, but William hadn’t been too interested. He didn’t put much faith in the decision-making capabilities of a group of over a hundred people. In his experience, even a group of three people could overcomplicate things. “Are they even worth trying to attend? I expect they’ll be pretty dull. A nice way for a bunch of rich lordlings to look busy and not much else.”
The driver shook her head in disbelief or wonderment. “Not lords. Well, not really. You really
aren’t from around here, are you?”
“You’ve spotted it. Well done. Is there a children’s playground somewhere in the vicinity where you could drop me off?”
She looked troubled. “I can find one. What are you going to do there?”
“You are extremely nosy for a driver,” William pointed out.
“I have to be careful,” she said impatiently. “And I don’t want you to hurt anybody. If I think you’re going to, I have an obligation to call—somebody,” she finished with a flush that William noted and filed away.
“I’m not going to hurt anybody. I’m going to pay a bill for services rather badly rendered, but rendered all the same. And then I’m going to hail another cab, perhaps with a less nosy driver, and continue on my way to the Capitol.”
“I told you, they won’t let you in! My brother said you’re far too dangerous to be allowed near Congress. Like, you have weapons that can’t be taken away.”
William smiled. “Well, that’s true, at least. But I don’t want to speak to your prosy Congress. I don’t care about them. I care about the chain of command, and I must speak to the top man.”
Joanne glanced over to one side, then turned her vehicle, focusing for a few moments on her driving. Then she pulled over to the side of the street and turned off her meter. “Here’s your playground. I’ll wait until you’re done.” She got out of the cab and leaned on it, crossing her arms.
William reached out for his lord, wishing for his advice or at least his encouragement, but all he felt was a touch of amusement and a mental shove before Tarn took his attention away. Blowing out his breath in exasperation, William emerged from the car and inspected the playground. Three boys, two girls, and a child of indeterminate gender raced around a wooden structure that combined slide and swings. Two adults loitered on the far side of the structure, studying their phones and making desultory small talk.
William eyed the adults and decided they wouldn’t interfere. Sometimes those phones seemed to provide all the distraction glamour could, without the risk of attracting the wrong kind of attention. He took a deep breath and loosened the tie Their Magnificence had put him in, then took off the coat and laid it across the cab’s hood, beside Joanne.
Etiquette of Exiles (Senyaza Series Book 4) Page 22
