Smells Like Finn Spirit

by Randy Henderson

  The highwayman dashed in and snatched up Cotten then moved back. Odysseus slackened his draw, and swung the arrow around to me. “Who ventures to our world in body against the will of both men and the Aal?”

  *Don’t tell them your name!* Alynon said.

  I’m not an idiot.

  The last time I’d ventured into the Other Realm—or at least my spirit had—a Shadows Fey named Chauvelin tried to imprison me for my supposed crimes against the Fey. Granted, he’d done so with Alynon’s help, but that was a whole other issue. Right now, the important thing was to avoid revealing my true identity to the Shadows Fey as long as possible; and given the rivalry between the Shadows and the Silver, I would definitely hide the fact that I had a Silver Court Fey sharing my body.

  “We, uh, came here to help,” I said.

  “Everyone seeks to help,” Odysseus said. “Though when you dig to the heart of their intent it is most often to the benefit of themselves. I ask again, who are you, strangers, and what purpose have you here? Speak true, or die.”

  “Well,” I said, “would you believe that I came here because you’ve been tricked with a kind of Trojan horse?”

  Odysseus frowned. “And if that were true, why would you reveal the plot to us?”

  “Uh,” I replied. Good question. “Well, war isn’t good for anybody, all that death and destruction, right? So”—I looked around—“where are the spirits that were exiled here?”

  “They are far from this place. As you soon shall be.”

  Damn. Whatever Merlin had done to destabilize the portal must have caused its destination point to jump around. Or perhaps there was something about traveling physically that shifted the portal’s end point. In either case, Fatima’s spirit was out of reach for now.

  “Hey,” Dawn said. “Far away sounds good to me. How about you set us down right outside Waterfront Pizza? I’ll even buy you a slice.”

  Odysseus frowned. “You have come to the Greatwood in mortal form, an act forbidden by treaty and the will of both races. Whatever your true intent, your fate lies not in your world but in the Black Lodge.” He waved his hand, and two thorny branches swept in like striking snakes to whip around our necks, the thorns close enough to tickle our skin. “Move any way but the one I wish, and you shall lose your head. Come.”

  He beckoned for us to follow, and the vines began to float in his direction, the thorns of mine biting painfully into the back of my neck and forcing me to move with them.

  Odysseus marched us toward the tree he’d emerged from, and as he approached it the gnarled lines of the bark spread apart to form a new doorway.

  Dawn hissed as one of the thorns bit into her neck, then said, “I don’t suppose he’s taking us to Halloween Town?”

  “Uh, no,” I replied. “He’s taking us to their court, of sorts.”

  “Great,” Dawn said. “Think we can get Daniel Webster as our lawyer?”

  My eyebrows rose. “Actually, that might be possible.” Then I sighed. “But somehow I don’t think we’re going to exactly get a fair trial by an impartial jury. And besides, the Black Lodge isn’t that kind of court. I meant more like a royal court, or at least the local castle. No outsiders are allowed into the true heart of the forest.”

  “Is there, like, a human embassy there?”

  “No. The best we can hope for is an ambassador from one of the friendlier Fey Demesnes is present.”

  We reached the massive tree with its human-sized doorway opening onto a mind-bending light show. Odysseus stepped to the side, and waved us forward.

  We had little choice but to follow his direction.

  As my foot crossed over the door’s threshold, I felt the vine release its hold around my neck, and my body was pulled forward into yet another portal. I managed to grab Dawn’s hand just in time to make sure we weren’t separated somehow.

  We emerged not from another tree, but rather out of an actual doorway into a room that looked something like the entry hall of a rich medieval hunting lodge where Tim Burton and David Lynch had waged an interior design war. The wall and ceiling had exposed beams of black, wet-looking wood, or perhaps bone, since they seemed to rise up and meet the central ceiling beam like ribs to a spine. In between hung tapestries depicting what I assumed were scenes from the Shadows’ history, the woven images dancing and moving through a looping animation of sorts. Glowing roots hung down from the ceiling, their bluish light casting everything in a surreal twilight.

  There was a second doorframe to our left, but no door within it, just lines radiating out from the center like a giant asterisk.

  One section of the far wall stood out from the rest, holding a tiered tree of brass award plaques. And before it stood a pedestal holding a rounded crystal flame the size of a mini fridge, which served as a display case for three golden golf trophies.

  Golf, it turned out, was one of the major crazes in the Forest of Shadows, and performance in the sport had some complex impact on power hierarchies within the Demesne. Of course, being in a forest, the game had been adapted somewhat, the type of iron and the force of the stroke still determining distance, but the player’s will and mental reflexes were then used to guide the ball safely through the trees, weaving between them to reach the clearings that served as putting greens.

  “There’s no windows,” Dawn said, looking around. “And no guards.” She stepped beside the doorway. “Maybe we can jump him when he comes through.”

  Already looking for a way to escape. She was so much better at this than me.

  I wouldn’t tell her that the building in which this room existed quite possibly had no actual outside in the Other Realm, no way to leave it except through the magical portals of the Greatwood. The laws of our world did not always apply in the Other Realm.

  In fact, a popular story said the Forest of Shadows was one large beast slumbering away the centuries, the trees being like quills atop this sleeping titan’s head. Certainly, the Shadows Fey had some kind of connection with their forest, an ability to control it in some ways, or at least use its nature to their advantage. And wherever we were now might well be within the titan’s body, or even its dream, in a place where no road traveled and no human could reach without a Shadows Fey to guide them.

  Indeed, a low susurration filled the air, like a mountain breathing slowly, and the air smelled like the shed skin of an old snake.

  But I didn’t want to take away what little hope Dawn held on to. If for no other reason than I needed her hope to keep me from giving up myself.

  So all I said was, “That’s a bad idea. Trust me.”

  Dawn sighed, and stepped back as Odysseus emerged from the portal.

  “Hey there,” I said, looking around at the decor. “Is Gargamel home, or is he out trying to catch those darn Smurfs again?”

  “I know not of this Gargamel,” Odysseus said.

  “Well, whoever’s in charge, take us to your leader.”

  “You make no demands here,” Odysseus said. “But as fate would have it, it is to the Echelon that I take you.”

  “Ah. Lucky us.”

  Dawn shot me a worried glance at my tone, but I rolled my eyes at her and gave her a reassuring smile.

  I wished I felt so certain of what awaited us.

  Odysseus walked toward the door to our left, and the asterisk lines opened up like an orifice, revealing a hallway.

  “So,” I said, “who are the Triums in these parts? Just curious.”

  Odysseus chose not to reply.

  The hallway felt much like the entry room, with ebon beams or ribs rising up to an arched ceiling, and between those ribs were doorways that when closed appeared seamless with the wall, differentiated only by their slightly darker color. I eyed the few open doorways as we passed them, but sadly none of them opened onto a yellow brick road with a sign that said Convenient Escape Route This Way. I just had to play along, and use whatever value being an arcana might have in order to ransom, or bully, our way to freedom.

  Dawn
leaned close and whispered, “So what’s the plan?”

  “I’ll know once my mouth starts moving,” I whispered back.

  “Great. We really need to work on your planning skills.”

  “Says you, my family, and every teacher I ever had.”

  “Hey!” Dawn said as we passed an open doorway. “Was that Hannibal Lecter?”

  “Or Van Helsing,” I said. “Either one has the traits of cunning and deception that the Shadows prize.”

  We arrived at what appeared to be membranous double doors, which opened like sideways eyelids to reveal a narrow passage into a large chamber beyond.

  A pale man in a black fur cloak rushed out of the passage, wringing his hands. Odysseus frowned as though tasting something sour.

  “te’Wormtongue,” he said. “What is it?”

  “The Trium request that the prisoners be held a short time until an ARC ambassador from the Colloquy arrives to deal with them.”

  I blinked in surprise. This was better than I’d dared hope.

  Of course, not everyone in the ARC currently had my best interests in mind. But even if they were aligned with Grandfather, he would want me back physically in our world. I could deal with whatever situation I found there better than I could anything here.

  Odysseus sighed. “Very well. Send word when they are ready.”

  “Of course.” Wormtongue bowed, and retreated back into the passage.

  Odysseus guided us to a doorway across the hall which opened as we approached, and led us into a room with several chairs and a pedestal holding a platter of fruit. The room was otherwise featureless and black except for the ghostly light emanating from the dangling root-like lights. “Wait here,” Odysseus said. “Do not attempt anything foolish.” He then left, closing us inside.

  “So,” Dawn said, pacing around the room as if she might find an exit they’d forgotten about. “How screwed are we?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It all depends I guess on who the ARC ambassador is, and what the Shadows hope to gain from capturing me.”

  “Don’t you mean capturing us?” Dawn asked.

  “No. You should be set free. I can’t imagine why even the Shadows would risk the ARC’s retaliation by holding a mundy captive.”

  “Lucky me,” Dawn said. “So what are we looking at here? I mean, who’s in charge? Sauron? Pat Robertson? An HMO board? How evil are we talking?”

  “It’s … complicated. The Forest of Shadows isn’t technically the Demesne of evil, it’s the Demesne of cunning, deception, and personal power.”

  “So more like politician evil,” Dawn said.

  I shrugged. “Most of them probably convince themselves they need power to do good things for their fellow Shadows—even if they never actually use it for that. And some of them, like Odysseus, probably try to use it for something other than personal gain. I mean, if they were all purely selfish and evil, none of the other Demesnes would deal with them.”

  “Still, if they’re all about power and cunning, then for all we know, Hitler could be in charge. That’s better how?” Dawn asked.

  “Well, it means they won’t just kill or torture me for fun, not if they can gain some advantage from keeping me alive, or letting me go. And the one person I’m pretty sure won’t be in charge is Hitler.”

  I shared what I remembered from my Arcana school lessons about the Forest of Shadows’ political structure, which made the late Roman Empire look positively enlightened and stable, and Gordon Gekko look like a rank amateur.

  The Forest of Shadows, like all Fey Demesnes, had many different regions, or versions of itself, that each touched the different major land areas of Earth. Each Shadows region had a black lodge controlled by a triumvirate of leaders, and beneath them a body of senators who were ranked in influence and power.

  Though specifics of the Fey internal politics were not well known to arcana, stories of the Shadows maneuverings had reached us. There was the Year of the Three Hitlers, for example, which had seen an escalation of plots and assassination attempts that had embroiled the Forest of Shadows in civil war and nearly brought about its collapse. Since then, there were no te’Hitlers to be found in the Forest of Shadows, for much the same reason there were no divas allowed in the Summerland.

  “So if we’re dealing with senators, does that mean we can buy off a few of them?” Dawn asked.

  “If we were Fey, maybe. But they won’t take bribes from humans. It’s kind of like how Congress sells their votes to American companies, but not Russian or Chinese, at least not openly. Makes them feel patriotic, I guess.” I picked up an apple off of the tray. “But maybe—”

  “Stop!” Dawn said.

  I paused in the middle of polishing the apple on my T-shirt.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Isn’t fairy food supposed to be enchanted? Like, if you eat it, you’re trapped here forever?”

  I smiled. “Actually, Fey food is one of the few things I enjoy about the Other Realm. Here, try it.”

  Dawn looked at me dubiously, but then bit into the apple. She frowned at it. “It tastes … weird. Sort of a bitter edge.”

  “That’s because it doesn’t taste how an apple tastes to you. You experienced how it tastes to whoever’s memory its Fey creator used as a template.”

  Dawn blinked down at the apple. “Wait, so even though you hate lentils, if a Fey took my memory of lentils and made some for you, you’d think they were delicious?”

  “Well, I’d taste them the way you taste them, yeah. I still don’t understand how anyone can like the texture of beans.”

  “That’s because you’re crazy,” Dawn said.

  The door opened, and Odysseus waved us out of the room. “Come, it is time.”

  Dawn tossed the apple back onto the platter, and we crossed the hall and moved through the double membrane doorway. The passage beyond opened onto a round stage at the chamber’s center, with seats rising in tiers on three sides: a theater-in-the-round layout shaped like the radiation warning symbol. All sides looked equal in every way, which probably had less to do with any noble ideals of equality and more to do with keeping anyone from taking offense at a perceived slight.

  The tiers of the Echelon held space for sixty-three Fey senators—a number I knew from my lessons, not from counting chairs—and most seats were filled already. Every Fey there had some element of a famous deceiver in them. And while not strictly evil, I did not expect to find any friends here.

  Odysseus waved his hand as we reached the center of the circle, and glittering black manacles appeared around our wrists, with chains running down into the ground, holding Dawn and me in place.

  “We await the Triums,” he said. “Do not think to test your strength against the might of this chamber, nor speak you words of insult or challenge to any here.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. I had little desire to be turned into Finn Jelly.

  “Well, you could at least dream of it,” Dawn whispered to me.

  Fey were still arriving, rising up from the ground in their cushioned seats, though it appeared less like they were rising from trap doors and more like time-lapse videos of growing plants as they basically willed themselves to be in this place. Platters holding food and drink waited between the chairs, and as the senators appeared, they began grazing on the delicacies.

  The lowest tier with the fewest seats held the most powerful senators, each subsequent tier above them holding progressively lower-ranked senators as measured by their length of service, the number of personal favors they were owed, the number of other members they had blackmail material on, the number of other members they could easily kill, and their golf ranking. The lowest tiers with the highest ranks were mostly filled with Fey whose persona had been around longest, reflecting the amount of time it took to actually achieve such a rank and, I supposed, a good golf handicap.

  I didn’t recognize most of the senators, their core identities taken from times and cultures I had no exposure to,
or from someone not particularly famous. But I recognized a few. I quietly pointed them out to Dawn as I gave her a quick overview of Shadows politics.

  In the front row sat a Rasputin with his oily hair and rat’s nest of a beard. Higher up I spotted a Saci-pererê with his red hat and pipe, and a Paul the Apostle—at least, that version of Paul perceived in someone’s memory to be a cunning deceiver, presumably. Higher still sat a Jareth the Goblin King, looking bored as he twirled glass globes in one gloved hand; and a Fey I thought might be the magician Prospero, exiled Duke of Milan, in flowing robes and tempest-tossed white hair.

  Dawn frowned. “If I fought so hard to advance to the top, I’d want to be, well, at the top. I’d want my enemies in front of me.”

  “There’s no direct physical attacks allowed in here,” I said. “Both by strict tradition, and I’m pretty sure by deadly magics. Deception and cunning are the only weapons allowed.”

  “Damn,” Dawn said. “I was hoping maybe you could trick them into destroying each other with that mouthy-wordy thing you do, Doctor Who–style.”

  “Sorry. Fey do still get killed in here, though. They just can’t attack each other.”

  “Whahuh? How does that work?”

  “Well, for example, all that food and drink was prepared outside of the chamber before being manifested in here. So if poison was introduced to it outside the chamber, that doesn’t strictly violate the chamber’s rules or protections, see?”

  Dawn frowned at all of the Fey chowing down. “Why not just avoid the food then?”

  “I guess that would imply they aren’t clever enough to outsmart a poisoner.”

  “A really clever person wouldn’t feel he needs to prove himself by being an idiot.”

  Odysseus scowled, but didn’t say anything.

  *I think she’s talking about you.*

  Stuff it.

  “Maybe,” I said. “They do use poison tasters. It’s become part of the whole game though, like everything else they do here. You know, taste a senator’s food today, and they owe you some small favor in the future. Gain a bunch of little favors and it might add enough to your power and influence that you could secure a senator’s seat yourself—maybe by, say, poisoning an existing senator.”