by Augusta Li
A bullet struck the tree, showering Querry’s face with shards of bark. He shielded his head with his arms and looked again at the path. He fired at a movement in the shadows, though his shot bounced off the snowy ground. Three bullets left. Querry took a deep breath, sprinted a few paces, and knelt behind a pile of square stones. The guards shot, but their bullets pinged off the blocks. He ran to the next pile of rubble and made it unscathed. The way before him offered no shelter, but he decided to chance it. The patrolmen had been so liberal with their ammunition that he doubted they could have much left. He stood up and ran and for it. The lack of fire told him his guess had been spot on.
Nothing lined the rest of the trail but some brittle, frost-gilded grass. It sparkled in the moonlight as Querry pushed himself hard toward the shelter of the wood. To his shock, he heard heavy footsteps behind him.
“Come on, lads,” one of the guards called. “There ain’t no faeries here! Let’s make this son of a bitch pay!” The others, probably six or eight of them, yelled their agreement.
Energy fading, Querry summoned a last burst of speed, but it wasn’t enough. A large hand caught his shoulder and yanked him back. His heel slipped on a patch of ice as he tried to pull away, and his tailbone smacked the hard ground. The guard who’d caught him raised his baton and swung for Querry’s head, but the thief rolled to the side and avoided the blow. Scrambling to his feet, Querry reached for his sword and swore out loud when he remembered he’d given it to his gentleman. Without it, with only his bare hands, he’d have little chance against the six hulking figures that approached him, slapping their sticks against their palms and chuckling with anticipation. The one who’d grabbed him struck out again, toward Querry’s ribs. He dodged, but he wouldn’t be able to keep dodging once all seven of them surrounded him. Already they closed the circle. Querry looked for something to back up against, but there was nothing but shadow and cold air.
“You’re gonna answer for what you did to our mates, faerie-lover,” one of them snarled.
“Time to take your medicine, boy.” A club struck him between the shoulder blades. By the time he turned to try to defend himself, another hit his lower back and sent him down on his elbows. Blows rained down, and the best Querry could do was try to cover his head. When he attempted to crawl away, a boot blocked his way. He felt a rib crack, and he swore. After everything they’d done, after as close as they’d come, it was going to end like this. Querry couldn’t see any way to save himself.
But he had to try. Ignoring the pain, he punched at the kneecap nearest him. The man didn’t fall, and Querry brought his wrist up between his legs. This time he crumpled and collapsed. Querry grabbed the baton that fell from his hand and swung his arm out to the right, dropping another of his attackers. That gave him time to stagger to his feet, and at least now he had a weapon. Stumbling backward, almost tripping over the groaning patrolman, he widened his stance and prepared to fight. He was bruised and bloody, hurting all over, and he still faced five men. They approached Querry cautiously, and he raised his stick.
“Well, this will be a bit of sport,” said a voice to Querry’s left, that managed a derisive giggle in spite of the pain that tightened it.
“Sir?”
The faerie bounced the hilt of the sword in his hand, testing the weight. “This is a good blade,” he remarked. Without another word, he lunged forward, spun, and vanquished two of the guards with much more elaborate flourish and showmanship than necessary. The remaining man stood with his mouth hanging open before he turned and ran.
Catching his breath and holding his side, Querry took a second to look at his savior, now that he was safe. The faerie’s skin was pale and waxy, and his blood darkened his pant leg to the cuff. Still, a curious smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He offered Querry his arm, and they locked elbows before limping toward the portal and disappearing into it.
EVERYTHING went black and then exploded into blinding white. Querry pitched forward and would have somersaulted down the steep, snowy path if his gentleman hadn’t caught his arm. For many minutes he perceived only blurs of ivory and brown, accompanied by an intense pounding and humming between his ears. His stomach cartwheeled; his legs wouldn’t hold him. Querry reached across his chest and clung desperately to his gentleman’s lapel until his eyes started to focus and his nausea settled. When it did, he recognized the Eastern hillside that led to the wizard’s lodge. His spirits rose as soon as he realized Reg waited just down the path.
Querry felt a pang of guilt when he looked over and noticed the faerie’s pallor and the blood that streamed onto the snow with every step he took. “Let me help you,” Querry offered. He expected resistance, pride, but the other smiled weakly and offered his elbow. Together they carefully picked their way down the rocky trail to the little cabin. By the time they reached the front door, Querry’s gentleman put most of his weight on Querry. Querry knocked on the door as the fey slipped his arm over Querry’s shoulders and let his knees bend. His head drooped forward and his breath grew jagged and irregular. For the first time since the shooting, Querry worried. Certain metals did great harm to the Fair Folk. How much blood could one of them stand to lose? The gentleman’s skin and sinew felt the same under Querry’s hands as any other man. Maybe he wasn’t as omnipotent as the thief had always assumed. What if he died?
Querry pounded harder against the thick wood. “Reg, please! Open the door!”
The door opened not long after. Reg, in a cinnamon colored shirt and wool-lined vest like the natives wore, smiled at first. The bracing climate, physical work, and rich cuisine suited him: he’d filled out, gained muscle and a rosy glow to his cheeks. When he saw the state of Querry and the gentleman, his lips dropped with concern. “What’s happened?”
“Met with some resistance,” Querry said as he guided the faerie into the sparse, utilitarian kitchen. Frolic still lay on the bench beside the bay window, so Querry helped the fey to a wood-framed sofa covered in threadbare cushions. The gentleman lay down with a groan. Reg hurried to retrieve the kettle from the hearth and dump the water into a clay basin. He returned with it and a clean rag, his dislike of the faerie overshadowed by his innate compassion. Querry tore the fine fabric away from the gentleman’s wound. His blood poured out in a sheet. His color flowed out of him along with it. Reg wiped it away, but it continued to gush. Soon the water in the basin became thick and red.
“Querry, who did this?” Reg asked. “What, what if he dies? Can he die?”
“I’ll explain it later, Reg.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Querry admitted, sweat breaking from his brow.
Reg took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a bloody streak on his fair skin. “This needs to be stitched,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll stitch it.”
The gentleman’s head bolted up from the cushion. “You’ll do no such thing!” He swatted weakly at Reg’s hand.
“Sir,” Querry said, taking his hand and squeezing his knuckles, “please, let us help you.”
“I can help myself,” he snarled. “There is plenty of magic here.” He opened and closed his fist a few times over his injury. He drew a breath and held it in as he drew a symbol over his leg with his fingers. The blood stopped flowing, and the skin knitted together as good as new. He let his head fall back and his eyes flutter shut. He stretched his fingers toward Reg and said, “Bring me some wine. The local varietal that they call Bull’s Blood.”
Reg hurried off and returned with a dusty bottle and a wooden mug. He served the gentleman the wine. The faerie drained the cup and held it out again. By the time he’d finished, his color and vigor had returned. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his newly healed flesh. “Ugh, my trousers,” he said with a shake of his head. He closed his eyes for another quarter of an hour. Eventually he opened them again, and they shined as green as morning sun on new grass. He addressed Querry and Reg with the elegant forma
lity Querry recognized, saying, “Gentlemen, I believe we have work to do.”
Chapter Nineteen
QUERRY and Reg stood facing one another in front of the bay window. The setting sun lit their left sides with rosy light, and the crackling fire in the hearth washed their right sides in soft orange. Candles sputtered on the utilitarian stands beside the couch, and the savory aroma of the goulash Reg had made for supper hung in the warm, moist air. Reg looked down at his toes, wiggling them against the coarse wood of the floor. Querry caught his chin and forced Reg to meet his eyes. He smiled at Reg and pushed his overlong fringe off of his forehead. Reg forced himself to return the smile, and Querry let his hand skim down Reg’s neck and back to cup his hipbone and pull their bodies closer. Their bellies met, and Querry moved his face toward Reg’s parted lips. Reg accepted a few playful pecks, but when Querry tried for more Reg pressed his lips tightly together and turned his face away.
“Can we get on with this?” the gentleman asked from the sofa where he sat with the stem of a wine glass between his thumb and finger. “I have urgent problems of my own to deal with.”
“You’re not helping,” Reg snapped.
Leaning forward, resting an elbow on his knee, the faerie asked, “Would you like me to?”
“No!”
“Sir,” Querry interjected quickly, before the gentleman could take offense, “You must understand how difficult this is for us. We aren’t used to an audience.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” Reg said, pulling away and going to stare out the window at the darkening trees.
Querry rubbed his shoulder and buried his face in his thick hair, speaking close to Reg’s ear. “We have to do this for Frolic,” he explained. “We’ve gathered all of the other ingredients. We need an oath spoken during love. Once we have it, my… the gentleman can do the magic and bring Frolic back.” He held Reg by the waist and turned him slowly, kissing his cheek when he could. “We love each other. All we need to do is express it, and everything will be fine.”
“All right.” Reg let his eyes fall closed and his lips fall open. Querry kissed him, and he kissed back, but without any real intimacy or passion. Not giving up, Querry scratched lightly down his spine and kneaded his cheek. He suckled Reg’s neck and reached around him. He found Reg completely flaccid.
Querry knew how to turn his lover on. He grabbed Reg’s elbow, spun him around, and pushed hard between his shoulder blades. Reg stumbled forward, toward the table. Querry hurried up behind him and slammed his chest down on the wood, making the simple dinner plates rattle. Reg looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide with surprise, and tried to stand back up. Querry seized the back of his neck and held him down, smacking his inner thigh to encourage him to spread his legs. He heard Reg’s breath catch, and he smiled. As he ground his erection against Reg’s cleft, he maneuvered his hand toward Reg’s groin and found much more to fill it. He leaned down and bit into the muscle stretching from Reg’s neck to his shoulder. Reg groaned, and his cock skipped in Querry’s fist. “Oh, Querry, yes,” he breathed.
“Good show,” the gentleman said. “Carry on.”
“No,” Reg said, twisting and throwing Querry off. He walked to the far end of the simple room, rubbing his upper arms with his hands as if they were covered in filth and needed a scrubbing. “I simply can’t do this! Even if I can complete physically, it won’t be authentic. This, this is just sick, and I can’t.”
Cursing, Querry pulled on his pants and threw his coat over his shoulders. He stomped to the porch and slammed the door behind him. His breath and feet froze almost instantly. Dry snow blew against him and clung to his hair. Why was Reg being so unreasonable? Querry couldn’t imagine what the big deal could be. They only needed to make love, and they could get their Frolic back. How could Reg be so selfish? Querry swore again and kicked the logs Reg had chopped for the fire. The neat pyramid collapsed and wood rolled everywhere. Pain shot through Querry’s foot and up his ankle and calf, bringing unwelcome tears.
The door opened with a creak and a rectangle of light. Querry turned, ready to tell Reg off. Instead he saw his gentleman, and an idea occurred to him. He took a few steps toward the faerie as the other quietly latched the door. Querry caught a long strip of flaxen hair and let his hand slide to the end, enjoying the silken texture. “Sir,” he said softly, his tongue mopping his swollen bottom lip, “I think it’s time. For us.”
With a wicked smile, the fey leaned toward Querry and sucked his lip and tongue into his mouth, trapping them between his teeth. He bit just hard enough for the pain to be pleasant and arousing, and then he let go. “No, Querrilous,” he said. “Not for this spell. I am not a fool. You feel desire for me but not love. Honestly, I can’t understand why, but neither can I deny what I see. I have another idea.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” The faerie took his hand and led him back into the cabin. They crossed the sitting room and went up the steps to the tiny sleeping rooms. The gentleman stopped in front of one of the doors and laid his palm against it. His eyes closed and a sad little smile crossed his face. “Look at this.”
He turned the knob slowly, and Querry marveled at the scene he saw inside the small room. Everything looked blurred and distorted, as if he watched it through old, rippled glass, but a healthy blaze in the hearth and half a hundred candles illuminated it all perfectly. The room contained little but a bulky armoire, a bookshelf, and a narrow bed. Upon this last Querry saw two bodies: one white-gold and the other a flushed, healthy peach. The gentleman, his gentleman in the vision sat with his back to the headboard and his legs folded beneath him like a foreign yogi. The other man, a small, lithe creature with long, auburn hair crouched above him, his heels beside the gentleman’s hips. His delicate fingers gripped the faerie’s shoulders as he rocked against him. When he threw his head back, the faerie’s lips found his Adam’s apple and the muscles of his neck. Querry had seen true love, passion, and desire, and he had seen people satisfying their baser instincts in the arms of whores. He knew the difference, and he knew he witnessed love. He felt a knot low in his body.
“Who is this man?” he asked. Despite his best effort not to be, Querry was jealous. He continued to observe as the two men made love, clinging to one another and staring deep into each other’s eyes. Now and then they spoke to each other in breathless exhalations, and though Querry couldn’t understand the words, he understood the sentiment perfectly: devotion, delight, and need. “He speaks your language,” Querry noted as he watched. When the faerie in the vision touched his lover’s cheek, Querry’s gentleman reached his long fingers into the room as if he could do the same. He realized he couldn’t, balled his fist and pressed it against his mouth, watching his former partner with misty eyes.
The faerie cleared his throat. “Yes, he had much discourse with my people and learned our tongue. Usually it is hard for humans, but he picked it up easily. He was so brilliant—”
Without thinking, Querry wound his arms around the gentleman’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. The other tilted his golden head and propped it against Querry’s temple. “He was one of the most gifted human magicians I’d seen,” he whispered. “I loved him. He loved me back, in my true form and without glamour.”
“What happened?” Querry asked.
“It broke his heart to be banished from his homeland. I offered him the world, but all he wanted was to set foot again on that little island. He went to wander the roads beyond the veil, in the hope that when he returned your countrymen will have lifted the ban on wizardry. I can’t imagine how it will affect him to learn that the magic is being sucked out of the place somehow. If he even lives. But that’s a problem for later. Go now, Querrilous. These next words are for him and me alone. I’ll collect them and be along in a bit.”
Querry nodded and kissed his cheek, but the gentleman’s eyes never left the writhing bodies in the room.
Downstairs, Reg sat on a stool, poking at the fire
and nursing a large brandy. Without looking away from the coals, he said, “I know you’re cross with me, Querry. I’m sorry, but as much as I love you and Frolic, I just couldn’t perform with him watching and offering commentary. We’ll have to find another way, even if you have to—I mean, I see how you look at him.”
“I don’t love him.” Querry felt guilty for being angry with Reg and overreacting. He understood how difficult all of this new liberation was for his more traditional friend.
“What will we do, then?” Reg asked.
“He,” Querry indicated the steps with a flick of his chin, “he knew the wizard who lived in this house. They were close.”
“Lovers?”
Querry nodded. “It seems that among the fey, friendships like ours are more permissible.”
