Smells Like Finn Spirit

by Randy Henderson

  Blobby hid his hands within the voluminous sleeves of his Jedi robes, and said, “Let us not forget why we now enjoy this position of advantage. It was Gramaraye and Alynon who brought word of the Shadows’ prior plots to the Colloquy. Is it little wonder then that the Shadows should lay charges against them? Since when do we trust the Demesne of deception over our proven allies? Since when do we reward a warning of danger by sending the one who warned us into that very danger?”

  That caused the gathered Fey to sit back and ponder for a second at least.

  “Finally,” Dawn said, leaning close and speaking quietly. “A Fey who doesn’t have his head up his, well—do Fey have actual asses? I mean, do they need to poo at all?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I replied out of the corner of my mouth.

  “Why not?”

  I sighed. “Well, you know how fish swim around in water filled with their own poop?”

  “Yeah, why? Are you saying—” she trailed off, and looked up and around us. “Oh. No. I don’t want to know.”

  Mandanu stood up. “Well, is it known that Gramaraye uncovered the Shadows plot. But it is also well known that the life of Gramaraye’s own brother was in danger from that plot, and the very same brother received a great reward in exchange for his help. Gramaraye did not help the Silver out of any altruism or love of our Demesne.”

  The queen’s form wavered, like vibrations on water, but she did not reply.

  “Damn it!” Dawn said, and not at all quietly. “We just want to go home. We don’t care about your politics, or rewards, or whatever.”

  Lao-Tzu said, “Your remarks are out of order.”

  Blobby cocked one eyebrow. “Patience, te’Lao-Tzu. Given that it is their fates on the line, I don’t believe it unexpected they hold some small opinion on the matter.”

  Justitia nodded once in agreement, and said, “Indeed. Gramaraye, is there anything you wish to say that may influence the Quorum’s decision?”

  I squeezed Dawn’s hand, and said, “Whatever the Counsel decides, please allow Dawn to go free. She is a mundane, and has no part in this. As for me, well, I think you’re giving me too much credit. Most of what I’ve done, I haven’t felt like I had much choice. I just did what I had to, what felt right at the time.”

  Ecne said, “Right for you does not equal right for us, however.”

  I shrugged. “Look. It’s true, a lot of what I’ve done was to help my family. But it all seems to have worked out pretty good for you, too. I didn’t want Petey to end up fighting in another Fey-Arcana war, but I don’t think you want that, either. I’m here now because my sister’s girlfriend was one of the exiles sent to you by the Shadows, but I also really do believe that the Arcanites plan to use those exiled spirits as some kind of weapon against you. And just like you’re worried about your Demesne’s future, I’m worried about my family falling apart. My brother Mort might not be dead like Alynon’s, but we have a great wound between us, and I can’t do anything about it from here. And my father is unstable, too, much like your king, despite everything we’ve done.” I looked at Queen Ma’at. “Surely you can understand why I don’t want to miss any time I have left with him.”

  Frigg gave a slight bow of her head, and said, “Your loyalty to your family is not in question, and it is valorous that you would fight for them. That does not, however, lead naturally to the conclusion that you have the Silver’s best interest at heart, nor that your actions—”

  Justitia raised her hands palms up, and said, “I judge that we have come to a point where arguments are but repeated, which indicates that it is time for decision. What is the will of the Counsel. Shall Gramaraye and Alynon Infedriel be delivered to the Shadows to strengthen our ties with that Demesne? Or shall we consider their claims of service and of the danger our exiles present, and return them to their own world to face the Arcana Ruling Council’s justice, along with those exiles sent to us by the Shadows?”

  Frak. Of course. The Silver wouldn’t simply set us free. They would return us to the ARC, following PAX rules, and the ARC would charge us with the crime of crossing illegally and physically into the Other Realm. Assuming the Arcanites didn’t simply have people waiting to kill or capture us on our return.

  Still, it would be easier to deal with the ARC than the Shadows again.

  There was a tense few heartbeats before the votes began to be voiced.

  “The Shadows,” Ecne said.

  “The ARC,” Lao-Tzu said.

  “The Shadows,” Frigg said.

  It continued down the line, until all but the queen had voted, with the vote tied between the Shadows and the ARC.

  Gods, if Ma’at was somehow involved with the death of the prince, or wanted to frame the Shadows for his death, then what choice would prove the least risky for her? Or if she simply held any lingering blame toward me for the prince’s death—

  Queen Ma’at looked at me for a long moment as if trying to peer inside me and weigh my heart, fingering her tall ostrich feather. Finally, she said, “Let them be returned to the ARC.”

  I swooned with relief. A totally manly swoon, of course.

  “Then this trial is concluded,” Justitia said. “Let Gramaraye and the mundane be freed, and returned to the human realm along with those exiles whom we did receive from the Shadows.”

  “Come,” Marduk said softly. “It is time for you to return to your world.”

  PART III

  27

  SHE TALKS TO ANGELS

  As we marched down the path to the trilithon, Alynon remained silent. I glanced back at the shimmering castle of the Silver Court behind us, and the green fields of Avalon.

  Someday, I thought at Alynon. You’ll have a real homecoming.

  No response.

  I mean, it’s fun to barely escape with our lives and all, but personally, I’m beginning to find it all a bit Demesning.

  Alynon moaned, and said in a halfhearted manner, *Make another joke like that, and I shall make you slap yourself so hard that both ears end up on the same side of your head.*

  I smiled. Try it, and I’ll play nothing but “Achy Breaky Heart” for the next week.

  Alynon didn’t respond, but his presence felt a little less … heavy.

  Blobby stood waiting for us in front of the stone trilithon in his Jedi robes and well-groomed beard, along with several Silver Guards, and a small crowd of formless Fey bodies like oversized transparent Slimers.

  I looked at the formless Fey. “Fatima?” I asked as we approached. One of the Fey raised a blob-like hand. Here, her voice echoed in my head.

  “Thank all the gods,” I said, feeling suddenly fifty pounds lighter. “I can at least cross Sammy off of the list of folks likely to kill me.” I frowned at the small gathering behind her. “But only seven exiles?”

  The Silver Guard holding Dawn’s guitar said, “Only these could we confirm that their changelings are present beyond the portal for exchange.”

  I felt a chill as I realized what Fatima being here actually meant. This was either a bad thing, or a very bad thing. Since the Silver Court planned to open this portal to the Arcana Ruling Council’s facility, it was bad if that meant the Arcanites had held on to Fatima’s changeling and held her prisoner now at the ARC, or else very bad if Reggie had escaped with Fatima, Sammy, and the rest, but had then been captured themselves and were all being held by the ARC.

  “So, Marduk, now that I’ve helped stop another plot against your kingdom and all, I don’t suppose you’d just quietly send Dawn and me someplace other than the ARC?”

  “No,” Marduk replied. “The Silver will not compound your crimes by committing our own.”

  Great. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I muttered.

  *More like out of the frying pan, then out of the fire, and now into an ant lion’s nest.*

  Stay positive, I thought. We managed to gain our freedom twice today. Third time’s the charm, right?

  Blobby-Wan Kenobi cleared his t
hroat. “Before you depart,” he said, “I feel I should share some final words.”

  My Finn senses tingled. “Why am I suddenly worried?” Or at least, more worried.

  Blobby motioned for me to step aside with him, his brown robes swishing. I followed, and he said quietly, “First, I should tell you that I was asked to aid you in your defense, though in truth I would have done so regardless.”

  “By who?” I asked.

  “One who is good at collecting favors. Velorain te’Uriel.”

  “What?” I asked surprised. “I thought she left the Silver Court?”

  “La, yet did she reach out to me. She knew of our past experience, you and I. But, there is more.”

  Uh oh, here we go. “Like?”

  Blobby glanced down at the ground. “I do not wish to speak ill of her, for clearly she has some genuine care for Alynon. But, I suspect that Velorain was involved in the murder of the prince.”

  “What?” I said again. “Why? How?”

  “’Twas through Lerajie that she did contact me, and I believe Lerajie and she share the same goals.”

  “Wait, are you saying Velorain is with the Chaos Demesne now?”

  *Of course.* Alynon sighed. *Oh, Velorain.*

  “I believe that, having earned the disfavor of both the Shadows and the Silver—and perhaps inspired by Alynon’s suggestion of growing beyond her born nature—she went to Chaos, yes.”

  *If she is indeed a true agent of Chaos now, then her future is bound to the goals of that Demesne,* Alynon thought.

  “Just because Velorain went to the Shores of Chaos doesn’t mean she’s involved in what’s been going on,” I said. “Beyond helping us, I mean.”

  Blobby gave a grudging nod of acknowledgment. “Perhaps. Yet I agree with your suspicion that Lerajie was involved with the prince’s death, and something in the words she spoke to me make me suspect she did act under the orders of someone who knew well the tensions between Alynon and his brother, and sought to exploit those very tensions.”

  “That could be anyone,” I said. “I don’t think Alynon’s disfavor was much of a secret.”

  “La, ’tis true. Yet also I believe Velorain’s original mission to our court long past was to sow the seeds of that very dissension between Alynon and his brother, to create division and disruption within the Silver Court by attacking its weakest link.”

  *Gee, thanks,* Alynon said.

  “How was Alynon the weakest link?” I asked.

  “Not Alynon. His brother.”

  *Ah,* Alynon said.

  Blobby shrugged, and continued, “Apollo could ever be counted on to act according to his nature. And Velorain played on that nature expertly. But … I think she truly did fall in love with Alynon.”

  *I no longer believe that true,* Alynon said, but there was uncertainty in his tone.

  “Why do you believe that?” I asked Blobby.

  “She would have gained more opportunity to work mischief had she but stayed and bonded with Apollo. And had she wished it, I believe she could have caused you to be killed in the act of killing Apollo. But instead she seemed to have wanted Alynon’s memories to be viewed by all.”

  “To clear Alynon’s name,” I said.

  “And perhaps to have certain proof of whether he loved her in return,” Blobby said.

  “Then why is she hiding from Alynon? And for Merlin’s sake, why kill his brother if she had any hope of being together?”

  Blobby’s expression became sympathetic. “I fear that such happiness was never her hope.”

  Dawn called over, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but maybe you guys can exchange letters or Fey-mail or something later? I’d really like to leave before someone changes their mind, or a dragon attacks, or something goes wrong.”

  Blobby put a hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry, Alynon. I believe she may yet love you, and I have no doubt you love her still. But she is committed now to the course of Chaos, and if they truly are the ones manipulating the Shadows and Silver toward war, then I see no future with her except through betrayal of the Silver.”

  I waved at Dawn to signal I’d heard her and we were coming. “Maybe she joined Chaos because she had no choice,” I said. “Or out of hurt over what happened with Alynon. Maybe she’s trapped there, and is doing what she can to help anyway.”

  Blobby gave a sad smile. “Maybe. But the weight of evidence lends itself to a different belief.”

  “Come!” Marduk called. “This delay only makes us vulnerable.”

  Dawn threw up her hands. “See what I mean?”

  I sighed. I’m sorry, Aly. Maybe we can come back when this is done, or—

  *Let us just be gone from here,* he said. *There is nothing more to say.*

  We moved back before the trilithon.

  “We’re ready,” I said to Marduk.

  Dawn snorted. “Oh, we are way past ready.” She looked at Marduk. “Do I get my guitar back now?”

  “I shall send it after you,” he replied.

  “You’d better. Or else I’ll come back with bagpipes. If you think Cotten’s a weapon—”

  Marduk held up his hand before the trilithon, and said some liquid-sounding words. The space within the trilithon misted over and then solidified into a view of a bright ARC facility room beyond. But rather than the official ARC Portal Room, this room was cluttered with objects and devices ranging from a Simon Says and a Mr. Microphone to something that looked like that chair Bill Bixby strapped himself into to become the Hulk.

  Verna’s laboratory. I had traveled from it to the Other Realm before, using one of Verna’s thaumaturgy inventions to hijack the connection between the Portal Room and the Other Realm. It looked like Verna had managed to do something similar again.

  Gathered on the other side of the portal were Fatima’s body and what I assumed were the other changeling hosts, with Reggie in his FBI-looking enforcer suit appearing to stand guard over them.

  “Gramaraye,” Marduk said. “You and the mundane must step through first. I must adjust for your physical passage before sending the others. And do not resist, for loathe am I to repay your service to our Demesne with a swift death.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That would suck for you.”

  I took Dawn’s hand, and said, “Here we go.”

  Together, we stepped through.

  A moment of dizziness, a feeling of vertigo, and then I stood in Verna’s lab with Dawn, facing Fatima and the other changelings.

  “Welcome home,” a voice sounded behind me. I turned to find Verna, Father, and Sammy standing behind a ring of stone and steel in which the watery portal had formed.

  Father looked like Doc Brown as played by Leonard Nimoy, with his frizzy white hair and outdated Sears suit. Verna was a good match for him, her own silver hair up in a wild bun held together with pencils and possibly some kind of antigravity spell, the ink stains on her lab coat pocket matched by the ones on her fingers and nose.

  Sammy looked exhausted, but focused, now wearing the Captain Planet T-shirt and gray hoodie borrowed from Dawn, but the same red jeans from yesterday. No, the day before. Or … I glanced at my Casio. 10:09 P.M. So we’d been gone just over a day in the Other Realm. Gods, it felt like a lifetime since the Furies attacked at Bumbershoot.

  The presence of everyone’s spirits hummed on my necromantic senses, like the sudden return of birdsong in the woods after a long period of silence. Yet I did not feel as strong a hunger to touch that energy, to use it. Perhaps the near-complete absence of spiritual energy in the Other Realm had helped, or something about traveling physically into the Other Realm.

  Or … I realized that it had never been just the spiritual energy, but something within me that responded to it, fueled the need for it. Anger? Guilt? Desire? Whatever that was, my experience in the Other Realm—in facing Mort and allowing him to win, in nearly losing Dawn forever, in experiencing Alynon’s trials—had blunted that need within me that called out to the energy. I still felt it, certainly, that
craving for the power and ecstasy of consuming the spiritual energy, but the craving was more a light thirst now than a consuming desire.

  “Fatima’s spirit?” Sammy asked, pulling me out of my internal exploration.

  “Coming,” I said, and she slumped in visible relief.

  Dawn’s guitar passed slowly out of the portal. She grabbed it gently as though it were an infant being handed off.

  Then the portal gave off a slight hum, and the pitch increased slightly. The changelings started to swoon one by one, and blink as if waking.

  The portal closed with a whoosh.

  Fatima looked around the room, and spotted Sammy. She burst into tears.

  “Oh stop,” Sammy said in her usual sardonic tone as she crossed to Fatima, but her own eyes were watery, and her voice quavered just slightly as she continued. “It’s not like I was going to let them keep you.”

  Fatima laughed with a slightly snot-filled snort, and said, “You’re such a brat.”

  “And you’re such a softie.”

  They fell into each other’s arms. When they finally stepped apart, Sammy looked at me, and said, “Thank you.” My heart swelled. After all of the bad of the past few days, it felt amazing to have a family member view me not as a source of anger or hurt, but of something good. Before the tears started to flow, I said, “How did you all escape Stonehenge? And with so many exiles?”

  “My friends came through,” Sammy said. “They have experience getting people out of bad situations. Though usually it’s rescuing mundies from abusive unicorns. I owe them big time.”

  “Merlin? J?” I asked.

  “Safe and resting,” Reggie said, stepping toward the lab’s door. “Which is more than I can say for us. We need to get out of here, fast. Or your freedom is going to be very short-lived.”

  28

  ALWAYS ON THE RUN

  I looked at Verna’s portal ring, and sighed. “I figured it was too much to hope the ARC allowed this. Were they expecting us?”

  “No,” Verna said. “But someone in the Silver Court somehow got news to us via the gnomes of your presence there. So I was able to divert the portal’s exit point from the Portal Room to here for any portals opened from that Demesne. It’s quite fascinating, actually, how I figured out the space-time jiggling of—”