Travers rolled his eyes. Rob felt that thread of irritation grow, but Megan looked at all three of them, her head cocked.
“Do they remind you of someone?” she whispered.
“Thank heavens, no,” he said, not bothering to whisper back.
She gave him an exasperated look, then folded her hands in her lap, and looked at Zoe.
Zoe raised her eyebrows at him. “This is for your benefit, Rob. Are you going to pay attention?”
“Did you have a school marm somewhere in your background?” he asked, not liking the pointed way she asked the question.
She shook her head. “We don’t have ‘marms’ in France.”
“France?” Megan whispered.
But Rob didn’t explain it to her. He had first met Zoe in France nearly a century ago. She had just come into her magic, and she was quite frightened of it.
“Watch,” Zoe said, and raised a closed fist.
Then the suite faded. The beeps of slot machines, followed by the soft roar of conversation, snuck into the emptiness. Then the glare of artificial lighting, mixed with flashing signs and too much neon.
A casino.
And not just any casino: a Faerie casino. He recognized the language around him. It was Elvish, mixed with medieval English and Gaelic—the Faerie’s version of their own language.
Faeries played video games, stood next to each other and had real conversations—not the kind they had when they were worried about mages overhearing—and something glowed in the distance.
Signs—in English—announced concerts, comedy shows, and the amounts in progressive slots. So, occasionally, the Faeries brought humans down here, probably to pick them clean of their luck.
Rob shook his head. Megan had grabbed his hand and was clinging to it tightly, as if she had never seen anything like this.
And, of course, she hadn’t.
She was biting her lower lip, her eyes as wide as a child’s.
The scene around them shifted as the memory did—Zoe had gone toward that glow.
The floor throbbed beneath Rob’s feet, almost as if he were in a big machine. Gradually, the Faeries around him disappeared, although he could hear voices whispering. He wanted to turn around, to face them, but he knew this was a memory—and not his memory.
Zoe’s.
He couldn’t see the actual Zoe through all the slot banks, video poker machines, and craps tables. The slots didn’t have the usual cherries and sevens, but instead listing of human traits—a way of betting on and manipulating human lives.
“Why do they allow that?” Clotho said.
Her voice was very distant.
Someone shushed her, and the illusion rose again.
That whispering made his hair stand on end.
Ahead of him, the machines parted, showing a great pit. It was bathed in light, so much so that he couldn’t see in front of it. He went forward and nearly tripped down a flight of clear stairs.
They were lit from beneath. He glanced up, saw himself sitting in the armchair, Megan still clinging to his hand—and yet he was standing on the floor of the pit, all alone.
He was actually inside Zoe’s memory.
He wondered if the others were too.
She had a powerful magic to do this. He was impressed.
Then he focused on the scene before him. His eyes had finally adjusted to the light.
The pit was round and seemed designed for gaming. Blackjack tables stood next to craps tables, which were near poker tables. A giant roulette wheel dominated the entire pit. The wheel shot out red and black lights that didn’t seem to affect the white light that glowed in the entire area.
Rob frowned and started toward the wheel, only to be held into place. It was Zoe’s memory, not his; Zoe’s magic, not his. He had to wait until she had gone forward—if she had.
She hadn’t, but she had focused on the wheel itself. And that was when he realized that it looked odd, not like a classic roulette wheel at all. Beside it were three empty chairs.
“They couldn’t hang around and wait to see what was going on?” Lachesis asked, startling Rob.
“This is a memory, remember?” Atropos said, and again someone shushed them.
Rob tuned everyone out and stepped toward the wheel. This time, the magic/memory let him. The wheel had spokes—no real roulette wheel did—and didn’t have built-in slots for a ball. Those slots had been added onto the edge as if they were an afterthought, and if he looked at them closely, he thought he could see light through them, but he wasn’t sure.
The base of the wheel was covered in cloth, and then he realized that he was looking at it wrong.
The base wasn’t covered in cloth. That was the part of the spinning wheel where the unspun material was before it was spun into threads. If he looked hard enough, he would find the spindle, and the real base of the wheel—the legs.
He tried to peer around the wheel, but he couldn’t. The memory had frozen him in place. Apparently Zoe hadn’t moved from here. He could only look, and not touch, nor could he actually examine the real base or the chairs or the platform on which the wheel rested.
He couldn’t see how to take it out.
Still, he reached for the thing, and it all vanished.
He had dropped Megan’s hand, his own hand extended across the room as if he were a child, reaching for something he couldn’t have.
Everyone was staring at him.
He cleared his throat, brought his hand down, and took Megan’s again. She covered it with her other hand.
“Um,” he said, trying to think about this entire mission, “where was that?”
“We can look on the map,” Zoe said. “It’s supposed to show us where everything is in real time.”
“No.” Rob blinked. His eyes still ached from the bright light. “What I meant was…was that deep in Faerie or near the surface? We seemed to be in a casino.”
“We were,” Travers said, “but it’s deep, and it’s not like those casinos on Boulder Highway that the Faeries own. It’s an underground cavern, almost, a secret place that took me a long time to get to.”
“I went through some kind of long fall,” Zoe said.
“Me, too.”
That’s what Rob was afraid of. “Once you landed, how far did you go?”
“That’s the tough part,” Zoe said.
“Everything changes down there,” Travers said. “The entire place works on a mathematical system—do you know what fractals are?”
“Not a clue,” Rob said.
Travers sighed. “No one does. Am I that weird?”
“You’re that weird, Dad,” Kyle said.
Travers grinned at him, then looked back at Rob. “It works on a pattern that has a mathematical base. Like slots, only more complex. It works without some overall mind adjusting the pattern all the time. But you have to be able to see it.”
“Math has never been my strong suit,” Rob said, wondering how this applied.
“That’s a problem,” Travers said. “Because if you can see the patterns, you can go directly to the heart of Faerie. Otherwise, you’ll get lost, and you might not come out for years.”
“À la Rip Van Winkle,” John said. Rob started. He hadn’t realized John was behind him. “I always wondered how that guy could lose so much time bowling.”
“The games weren’t as sophisticated then,” Zoe said.
“All right, let’s assume I can see the patterns —” which Rob doubted he could, but for the sake of argument, he’d assume it “—then how far is the wheel from the entrance?”
“It didn’t take me long to get there,” Travers said, “but I was hurrying. I thought Zoe would die.”
She gave him a fond smile.
“Time estimate?” Rob asked.
“I don’t have any,” Travers said. “I’m not sure time exists down there.”
“It exists,” Clotho said, “but it’s Faerie Mountain Time.”
“Which is better,” Lachesis said,
“than Faerie Midnight Time.”
“Although you’re better off,” Atropos said, “with Faerie Solstice Time.”
“Okay,” Rob said, suppressing another sigh. “I get it. We have no way of measuring how far the wheel is from any exit, which, I have to admit, makes it impossible to make a plan. Add that to the fact that thing looks too big for one man to carry—”
“That’s the effect of the magic,” Clotho said.
“Really, I could carry it,” Lachesis said.
“Anyone of us could,” Atropos said.
“When you had your magic,” Rob said.
All three Fates shook their heads in unison.
“Even without,” Clotho said.
“It’s made of the lightest wood,” Lachesis said.
“It’s designed so that even a child can carry it,” Atropos said.
“A real child or one of those, y’know, magical kids?” Kyle asked. He was sitting on the floor, one hand on the obese dachshund’s back. The dog was looking into the kitchen, tail wagging. Apparently the creature hadn’t forgotten about the food on the counter.
Neither had Rob. His stomach was growling.
“A real child,” Clotho said, sounding somewhat indignant. “Magic did develop over time, you know.”
Rob didn’t even know that. He just assumed it came into being when the Earth came into being. Of course, history—like math—wasn’t his strong suit, unless he’d lived through it.
“If I don’t know how hard it is to remove,” he said, “and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to carry the thing out of the casino, and I don’t know if I can even lift it, then I can’t plan this heist.”
“I think heist is the wrong word,” Clotho said.
“We weren’t thinking of anything armed,” Lachesis said.
“You watch too many movies,” Atropos said.
He hardly watched any movies, except late at night, and often on pay-per-view or Turner Classic Movies. He usually fell asleep in the middle of whatever he was watching, so the plots really didn’t stick with him.
But he knew better than to contradict the Fates.
“I have to get it out of there somehow,” he said, “and my magic isn’t enough to take on the entire Faerie Kingdom. My theft skills weren’t really skills. They were bullying and thuggery, and always with a political aim. I’m not really the man for this.”
“Oh, you’re precisely the man,” Clotho said.
“If only you’d stop denying it,” Lachesis added.
“After all, this is political,” Atropos said.
“Because of Zeus?” Rob asked.
All three Fates shook their heads again. He was getting an image of those bobble-head dolls that were sold in stores all over Vegas, and he wasn’t sure he could keep a straight face about it.
“Because of the Faerie Kings,” Clotho said.
“The initial rivalry was between magic systems,” Lachesis said.
“What’s it between now?” Megan asked.
Rob glanced at her. She seemed involved in the conversation and not out of her depth like she had before. If anything, the vision of the wheel seemed to calm her.
It had simply convinced him he had no idea what he was doing.
“We do have to deal with Zeus, that’s true,” Atropos said.
“He will destroy everything we’ve worked for,” Clotho said.
“He doesn’t believe in true love,” Lachesis said.
“And if you were married to Hera, would you believe in it?” Atropos asked.
Clotho waved a hand. “Of course, that relationship is not our fault.”
“We would never allow a man to marry his sister,” Lachesis said.
“His sister?” Megan sounded appalled.
Travers put his hand over his face. And Kyle wrinkled his nose.
Apparently, some parts of Greek mythology were left out of modern schooling. Among the ancient gods and goddesses there was a lot of what would be called incest now, which Rob found just as disgusting as he had when he first heard of it, however many centuries ago.
“The Titans arranged that marriage,” Atropos said, “for reasons we’ll never understand.”
“And then put Hera in charge of married women which,” Clotho said, holding up a single finger as if she were giving a lecture, “we never would have done.”
“The woman is supremely unhappy,” Lachesis said. “Her husband is the most unfaithful creature ever created, and she blames it all on the women he gets involved with.”
“Which,” Atropos added, “is why so many married women are bitchy, in my opinion.”
“Huh?” Zoe said, twisting her new engagement ring.
Rob suppressed a grin, although Travers looked alarmed. Megan had leaned against Rob’s leg, watching the entire proceeding as if it were being staged for her benefit.
Rob wished he could remain as detached. He had to bring everyone back to the real topic soon enough.
Clotho reached over and patted Zoe’s leg. “It’s not that married women are unhappy, dear.”
“It’s just that occasionally Hera sends a little discontent their way,” Lachesis said.
“Simply to stir things up,” Atropos said.
“She believes it brings passion to a relationship,” Clotho said.
“And it does,” Lachesis said, “but the wrong type.”
“Why haven’t you stopped her?” Megan asked.
All three Fates turned toward her. Even Zoe looked shocked.
Megan shrugged and extended her hands. Rob put his hand on her shoulder, leaning her back against him.
“I misunderstood something again, didn’t I?” she asked.
“Hera’s one of the Powers That Be,” Rob said. “Technically, they’re the Fates’ boss.”
“Although I note you don’t give them obeisance any more,” Zoe said to the Fates.
The Fates looked down at their hands. This was the moment, then, that Rob could turn the conversation back to his so-called heist. They had to know that this wouldn’t work. Why were they sacrificing him?
“Are you trying to kill Mr. Hood?” Kyle asked.
Rob glared at him, then cursed silently. He must have broadcast that last thought.
Everyone looked at Kyle. He was staring at the Fates.
“That’s what he thinks. He thinks you’re sending him in there so that the Faerie Kings’ll catch him and hurt him. He thinks you don’t like him.” Kyle sounded indignant. “You should be nicer to him. He’s in love with my Aunt Megan, and she needs someone like him, someone who really loves her. She’s the nicest person I know, and she gets all the bad breaks—”
“Kyle!” Megan hissed at him.
“We don’t hate Robin,” Atropos said, sounding shocked.
“We consider him one of the good guys,” Clotho said, sounding even more shocked.
“We have asked him to be our champion,” Lachesis said. “We only do that with the best of the best.”
“Well,” Rob said, “I’m flattered, ladies, but I really am the wrong man for the job. Maybe you shouldn’t look for a champion and a good guy, but for someone slightly shady, someone who can actually pull this off—”
“You know, I never thought I’d hear that kind of nonsense coming out of you.” John spoke up. He was standing near the kitchen door and looking very disgusted. “Not the man for the job, ‘someone slightly shady’—what the heck do you think you are? Mr. Clean? Rob, you still steal from the rich and give to the poor. The only difference now is that they pretend to like what you’re doing.”
Rob’s cheeks grew warm. “I’ve learned a few tricks.”
“You are more than slightly shady,” John said. “You always have been. And you’re tough, and you have a lot of magic. You’ve just forgotten who you are.”
Megan frowned. Rob glanced sideways at his best and oldest friend.
“What are you referring to?” he asked. “I’m a lot of things. I’m a displaced lord, a retired highwayman,
a former Crusader, a widower, a billionaire playboy, and—apparently—someone slightly shady. What else?”
“For heavens’ sake, man,” John said. “You’re not just those things. You are a hero and a champion just like the Fates say. And you’re a leader of men. You always have been.”
Robin shook his head. “If there’s anything I’m not, it’s a leader of men, John. I’ve fought those creatures.”
“No, sir,” John said. “You’ve led me and Will Scarlet and Friar Tuck and dozens of others. You’ve led regimens and corporations. You’re a leader, Robin, and you always have been. All you need is the modern equivalent of the Merry Men.”
Thirty
The moment Rob entered the hallway, he realized he had forgotten his socks and his shoes. But he wasn’t about to go back for them.
He felt a low-key irritation at Megan, one he didn’t want to thrash out with her at the moment. He’d never been attracted to someone who settled before. That bothered him more than he cared to think about.
The carpet in the hallway was cold and slightly damp, probably from the air-conditioning. He walked to the next suite over, and heard Kyle’s voice mixing with his father’s, John’s, and the barking of that silly obese dog.
Then the door beside him clicked shut.
He didn’t want to look. Megan was probably sitting inside her suite, trying to make sense of the day.
Not that he blamed her. Everything had changed for her, and he had made it worse, pressuring her into something she apparently wasn’t ready for.
And he didn’t know how much of his own emotion had bled over. How much he had coerced her—in an inadvertent way—just because she could feel what he had been feeling?
He would have to discuss that with her when—if—he got out of Faerie with the wheel.
“Forget something?”
He started, and looked beside him. There was Megan, holding his shoes, his socks stuffed inside them. She looked charming, her own feet bare, her hands clinging to his ridiculous, expensive, twenty-first century leather shoes.
In spite of himself, he smiled at her.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the shoes from her.
“You know, those probably aren’t world-conquering shoes,” she said softly.
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