War for the Oaks

by Emma Bull

  The dancers sang without words, Carla, Hedge, and Dan sang with them, and Eddi weaved like wildfire in and out of the voices. And though they’d left the room behind, she could still see the Lady and her Consort at the foot of the stairs, bright as the stars around her, singing. She could still see the balcony where the Dark Lady, a tattered shadow, hid her face in her hands, where the phouka tore his wrist free from the railing, flung his head back, and added his voice to Eddi’s.

  She was on her knees at the edge of the stage, still crying, and people were pressed forward to touch her, laughing and crying just as she was. Carla pulled her to her feet and flung her arms around her. Eddi reached out to Hedge and hauled him into the embrace, and Dan, too. Then the phouka was there. She fell against him, too weak to stand without her friends’ arms around her. They had to carry her off the stage.

  There was no magical change in the city; what they’d fought for, after all, was the city the way it was, the way they loved it. But the air seemed cleaner, the light stronger, the colors more certain. If it was only that they’d taken them a little for granted until then—well, that at least was different.

  It was not a concert to be walked calmly away from. They could not pack the car, go to their separate homes, and fall asleep. So they went to the Ediner, and when that closed, they went to Denny’s, and when they couldn’t stand that any longer, they went to sit on the shore of Lake of the Isles. A park police car cruised past, but Eddi pretended that they weren’t there, and it never slowed down.

  Carla shook a cigarette out of her pack, lit it, and paused, staring at the glowing end. Then she stubbed it out in the grass.

  “That some kinda symbol?” Dan teased her.

  “Nah. But just for tonight. . .” She rolled over on her back and grinned at him. He leaned across and kissed her nose.

  Hedge sprawled on his stomach, playing kazoo on a grass blade between his thumbs. He looked pleased and sleepy. Though he didn’t speak, he looked up and smiled at Eddi now and then, and she smiled back.

  “And so it’s done,” said the phouka softly. No one seemed to hear but Eddi.

  “Is it really? What about all the things you wanted to see changed, all the things in the Seelie Court?”

  He smiled down at the grass. “I’d intended to plant a seed or two, and wait to see what grew there. Things grow slowly in Faerie, my beloved.”

  “So you’re just going to see what happens?”

  “I don’t know. I’d thought in terms of seeds, you see, and never dreamed that what I had loosed on the Court was a madwoman with a crowbar.”

  “What, me? I’m flattered.”

  They watched the moon dance on the lake and listened to Hedge play his blade of grass. “Well,” Eddi said at last. She thought irritably, Why is it that at times like this, every sentence starts with ‘Well’? She bit the inside of her lip. She wanted to ask him if he would stay, if he could stay. Where he would go if he didn’t, she wasn’t sure, but she knew it was someplace she couldn’t follow. She remembered his words at Midsummer—“What will you do, when our war is done, and we withdraw from your life?” She still had no answer.

  He stood up, crossed the grass to her side, and sat down again next to her. “I’ve been instructed to give you this,” he said, and pulled a packet out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

  She unfolded the white silk and found a silver maple leaf—the earring the Lady had worn in Loring Park. Her eyes burned. She knew a parting gift when she saw one.

  “I think you did her a world of good,” she heard the phouka say smugly above her. “Though Earth and Air know I would never say it aloud in her hearing.”

  “When are you going?” she said softly.

  “Going where?”

  She looked quickly up. He was smiling, and that soft, adoring look was on his face.

  “I was just about to ask you,” he said, “if you thought we ought to tour.”

  appendix “That Would Make a Great Movie!”

  Ever since War for the Oaks came out, people have said to me that they’d love to see a film version. (The War for the Oaks casting game goes back at least to Peg Kerr and me playing it at the book-signing party at Uncle Hugo’s Science Fiction Bookstore: “Anjelica Huston for the Queen of Air and Darkness!”) So my husband, Will Shetterly, and I wrote a screenplay based on the book, which I think was the first screenwriting either of us had done.

  When a friend expressed interest in optioning War for the Oaks, we pulled out the screenplay. It was . . . okay. But that early draft relied too much on the way I’d told the story in the book.

  Novelists and screenwriters use a slightly different set of tools to tell stories. We knew we couldn’t describe Eddi’s thoughts or feelings, for instance, as I had in the novel. But we hadn’t really taken advantage of the screenwriter’s tools; we relied more on talking than on showing. The scenes that involved magic seemed pretty flat in consequence, and the characters felt more passive, less emotional, than they did in the book.

  And our agent pointed out that point of view in film is more flexible than in novels. In the book, Eddi is the point of view character, so the reader sees and knows only what Eddi does. But in the screenplay version, we could move away from her a little, and give the audience a sense of the forces gathering around her.

  Suddenly we were free to see the screenplay as a story of its own—still telling the same story as the novel but sometimes in a very different way. We changed the names of the two fey armies to the Summer and Winter Courts. (Seelie and Unseelie are traditional in Britain, but the Folk are in America now, after all. And we wanted the names to re­inforce the character of the two groups: one concentrated on growing, the other on dying, but each essential to the other’s existence and part of the natural world.) We took Danny the keyboard player out of the band; he was necessary to Carla’s story but not to Eddi’s. Taking him out gave extra room to Hedge, who’s a more interesting, complicated character. And Will and I were able to fill out Stuart’s story and give it more resolution, something I couldn’t do when I was writing exclu­sively from Eddi’s point of view.

  Just because a script exists doesn’t mean there will ever be a film version of War for the Oaks. As of this writing, no one who’s said, “This would make a great movie!” has been in a position to actually make the movie. But that could change. It’s always been a lucky book.

  Following are three scenes from the screenplay, scenes that aren’t in the novel. They’re the work of Will and me and owe a lot to the excellent suggestions of Josh Schechter, Rachel Brown, and Janine Young.

  Oh, a note on screenplays: sounds and special effects are usually capitalized, as are characters the first time they appear. This may drive you nuts, but it’s a big help to a producer or director who wants to be able to tell at a glance how many elements have to be juggled in filming a scene. INT. and EXT. just mean that a scene is either an interior one or an exterior—outdoor—one. Everything else you’ll pick up pretty quickly.

  This first scene happens after Willy and Stuart scuffle on the bal­cony at First Avenue (page 117). Eddi and Willy leave the club, but Stuart remains, brooding.

  The Bodach first appears in the script as the assassin who attacks Eddi outside the New Riverside Cafe. In his human form, he’s pale with dull skin and sunken, dark-circled eyes. In his true shape as the Dark Queen’s lieutenant, he’s a gray-skinned, bony-faced creature with white eyes and way too many pointy teeth.

  * * *

  INT. FIRST AVENUE MAIN ROOM—NIGHT

  Stuart, at the bar, tosses back a shot glass of scotch. He carries a bottle of beer to the edge of the dance floor and stares, unseeing, at the crowd.

  The Bodach, in human form, comes up beside him.

  BODACH

  Did you make him bleed?

  STUART

  Fuck off.

  BODACH

  No matter. I know those who can do more hurt than any little knife can.

  STUART

  I
just want to show her . . .

  Stuart’s face crumples. He drains his beer. The Bodach touches his shoulder.

  BODACH

  You shall. Come.

  The Bodach leads the way through the crowd, up the stairs to the second floor. Stuart shoves through behind him.

  At first the people he passes on the stairs are ordinary CLUB-GOERS. But as he gets closer to the second floor, they become gradually strange and scary, though hard to see in the dark room:

  A tall, bald, PALE-SKINNED MAN with a red flash in his eyes.

  Two WOMEN connected by a fine gold chain attached to their tongue rings.

  A scrawny TEENAGE GIRL with cataract-white eyes and dead twigs caught in her uncombed blond hair.

  A MAN whose head is flat, like a fish’s, with bulging eyes on either side.

  A GRAY-HAIRED WOMAN, thin as a bundle of sticks, who holds a cigarette in her foot-long, pencil-thin fingers.

  A MINOTAUR with human eyes in his heavy bull’s head.

  Stuart passes them as if he’s afraid they’re hallucinations, but he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s seeing things.

  At the end of the balcony overlooking the stage, the Bodach stops and turns. He’s in his needle-toothed monster form.

  Beyond the Bodach, a slim, elegant FEMALE FIGURE stands in sil­houette against the video screen light. She leans on the rail, her back to Stuart. Her voice is rich and musical:

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS

  Stuart Kline. Have you come to make your dreams come true?

  Next excerpt: Hedge has agreed to serve as a double agent and plant misinformation with the Queen of Air and Darkness, as part of Eddi’s plan to rescue Willy (page 282). When he does, we get to see the Queen of Air and Darkness’s lair.

  People still ask me, “Why the Twin Cities?” I’ll give you a hint: there really were nightclubs built in the caves of the Mississippi River bluffs overlooking St. Paul in the twenties and thirties—speakeasies that were favorites of the Chicago mob. Ruined or restored, they’re still there.

  EXT. MISSISSIPPI RIVER BLUFFS—NIGHT

  Hedge hurries along the rocky bluffs. He glances nervously around, and jumps when WIND rustles the bushes. He comes to a high chain-link fence with a sign: “DANGER—KEEP OUT.”

  Hedge scrambles up the fence, jumps down on the other side.

  EXT. UNDERGROUND NIGHTCLUB—NIGHT

  The crumbling facade of an abandoned 1930s nightclub built into one of the bluff caves. Its faded sign: “MYSTIC CAVERNS.” The front door is padlocked and boarded up.

  After a last wary look around, Hedge presses a hand against the door and steps back. The door swings silently open.

  * * *

  INT. UNDERGROUND NIGHTCLUB—NIGHT

  The nightclub’s rich furniture and fittings are still there, but rotting with neglect. Dust puffs out of the faded oriental carpets as Hedge crosses them. Two of the three chandeliers hang cockeyed and dark.

  The Queen of Air and Darkness sits at a table at the edge of the empty dance floor. The Bodach stands guard at her elbow. Other WINTER COURT CREATURES lounge in the shadows.

  On stage, lit by candles, Stuart plays jazz guitar. He hits a wrong note and looks up with a flash of terror at the Queen. But she’s distracted by Hedge’s entrance.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS

  Here’s my little turncoat! What news?

  HEDGE

  Everybody’s fightin’ and yellin’. Queen and th’ mortal and her band.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS

  That must be hard on your delicate sensibilities. But the decision . . . ?

  HEDGE

  They’re gonna let you have th’ park.

  The Dark Queen throws back her head and LAUGHS.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS

  Marvelous!

  (to the Bodach)

  Champagne, Bodach. Oh, and my new toy.

  (to Hedge)

  Have they made no other plans?

  Hedge shrugs, his eyes on the floor.

  HEDGE

  Can’t, with all th’ yellin’ and the not speakin’ to each other.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS

  I so wish I could see it.

  The Bodach returns with champagne, two glasses . . . and two huge GOBLIN CREATURES dragging Willy between them. He’s shackled wrist and ankle with coiling red SNAKES of light and still battered from his capture.

  The goblins shove Willy down in a chair beside the Queen. He looks up, scowling . . . and his eyes widen in shock at the sight of Hedge. Hedge refuses to meet his gaze.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS (CONT’D)

  Did you hear? You’re to be ransomed.

  The Queen fills the glasses, clinks them together, and holds one to Willy’s lips.

  QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS (CONT’D)

  To discord, and my victory.

  Willy refuses to drink. The wine pours over his chin and down his neck. The Queen leans over and licks wine from his throat.

  Hedge backs away, turns, and hurries out past the stage, where Stuart watches the Queen in terror . . . and longing.

  And here’s the final battle, the duel of music and magic between Eddi and the Queen of Air and Darkness at First Avenue (pages 313—318. The spelling of the Phouka’s name has been changed in the screenplay to the Anglicized version—“Pooka”—because producers have it tough enough already. They should be able to pronounce the romantic lead’s name in a pitch meeting.

  First Avenue is a lot of the reason War for the Oaks exists. It’s a place where magic happens all the time. No matter how often they remodel the main room, it retains that charge, that buzz, that comes from people creating things, feeling intensely, caring about something bigger than themselves.

  Since I wrote War for the Oaks, I’ve stood on the stage in the main room (with my pal and fellow Flash Girl, the Fabulous Lorraine). I’ve watched the video screen roll up in front of me to reveal 1500 people standing in the dark waiting for me to do something musical and en­tertaining. Worst case of stage fright I’ve had since third grade. It occurred to me later that at last I knew exactly how Eddi felt. (A year later, Lorraine and I got back up on that stage—to accept a Minnesota Music Award. There really is magic in that room.)

  * * *

  INT. FIRST AVENUE MAIN ROOM—NIGHT

  Eddi, Carla, and Hedge are onstage, hidden from the audience by the

  lowered video screen. Willy’s usual spot is empty.

  Eddi turns to the rest of the band and nods. The screen rises slowly.

  ANNOUNCER

  Ladies and gentlemen, Eddi and the Fey!

  The crowd APPLAUDS, then falls quiet.

  Stuart, the Bodach, and the Queen of Air and Darkness are on the balcony. The Pooka stands beside them, a little apart. A GLOWING RED THREAD connects his wrist to the top rail.

  At the back of the room, the Summer Queen and Oberion watch. Eddi looks up at the Pooka. He smiles at her.

  Eddi plays the opening notes of the song the band was learning the day Willy was captured.

  Carla and Hedge watch Eddi uncertainly. There’s silence where Willy’s guitar part had been. The song seems fragile and full of empty places.

  Eddi begins to sing very simply. A BREEZE stirs her hair. Faint LIGHT shimmers on the stage around her feet, spreads like a growing POOL of water.

  Carla’s and Hedge’s faces grow calmer: The die has been cast. They know how to do this, and they’ll do their best.

  The LIGHT expands to cover the stage. Suddenly it envelops Hedge and Carla as they join the song in a wall of sound.

  SPARKS fly from Carla’s sticks. Hedge tosses his head; LIGHT falls like drops of sweat from his hair.

  On the floor, audience members begin to dance.

  The Queen of Air and Darkness points at a DANCING COUPLE. A TENDRIL OF RED LIGHT snakes from her fingers and circles them. They stop, frown, start to leave the floor.

  Eddi leans into the mike to sing, her whole heart in her voice. Th
e couple looks back . . . and starts to dance again.

  The Dark Queen frowns. This won’t be easy.

  The music grows fuller, as if Eddi’s guitar has been joined by other instruments. Flurries of light follow her movements. The floor crowds with dancers, their hair blowing in a wind that seems to come from the stage.

  Eddi spares a glance toward the balcony . . .

  . . . where the Bodach holds up a pistol crossbow to catch the light. Eddi’s music and magic falter. The Bodach aims the crossbow at the crowd, sweeping back and forth.

  Stuart looks questioningly from the Dark Queen to the Bodach. The Pooka yanks at the cord at his wrist, but it holds.

  POOKA

  You swore the audience would be safe!

  BODACH

  They are, the little ants. But those who serve them?

  The Bodach targets a waitress with a tray of drinks. The Pooka lunges, but the glowing cord pulls him up short.

  The Bodach’s finger tenses on the trigger.

  The Bodach’s arm is knocked upward. The crossbow bolt smashes into the light grid over the dance floor. A fountain of sparks rains down and adds to the illusions.