Rogue's Pawn

by Jeffe Kennedy

  The first page I titled Dr. Jennifer McGee’s Big Book of Fairyland. It made me smile to see it.

  Knowledge is power. And this would be my first step. Perhaps through the process of cataloguing all my observations, I could begin to make sense of this world. And find a way out of it.

  A little judicious wishing got the tip of the brush hardened sufficiently for reasonably neat printing, though the bristles didn’t hold ink as well as I’d like. I labeled several pages with headers such as Rules of Magic, Rules of Bargaining, Faerie Species Identified, The Black Dog, Flora and Fauna, Objects with Magical Properties, etc. I left generous pages between headers, expecting to fill them all eventually. I devoted an entire section to Rogue, though I was perversely tempted to make him a sub header under Flora and Fauna. If I could have ensured he’d see it, I would have done it, too, if only to take his ego down a notch.

  No dwelling on Rogue.

  I flipped to Rules of Magic, made a subsection for Sex & Magic, and began writing out what had happened at the dryad’s tree. Larch and the guys brought in the copper fire pit, plopping it where the bathtub had stood.

  “Right here, please.” I gestured to a spot I’d cleared next to the bench. Larch gave a sigh of the long-suffering and they heaved it over to my chosen location.

  “Thank you, boys,” I said with an effort at charm. The other Brownies blushed and smiled, but Larch frowned at me suspiciously.

  “What task are you engaged in, my lady?” he asked.

  “Oh, this and that, puttering about.” I flipped to the title page, reflexively keeping my ruminations private.

  His eyes fell on the book.

  “What is this?” He peered at it, then touched the page gently with a stubby fingertip. He reminded me of Isabel poking at her cat food with a testing paw, as if dubious that it wouldn’t bite back.

  “I’m making notes—organizing my thoughts.”

  He looked puzzled.

  “You know, writing things down?”

  He shook his head, as if shooing away gnats. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, my lady.”

  “Books? Writing?”

  Larch continued to shake his head. He looked suspicious, even superstitious. “No, Lady Gwynn, this is a powerful magic beyond my ken.”

  Interesting.

  “And so it is,” I agreed. “Please make sure that no one disturbs my…grimoire,” I said with great satisfaction. “Am I signed up for self-defense?”

  “Arranged. I shall escort you.”

  “Never mind.” I waved my hand. “Fetch me when the time comes.”

  I thoughtfully chewed the end of my paintbrush. No written language. This world seemed suddenly more empty without the prospect of books. At least I could be uninhibited in what I wrote, now that I knew no one but me would ever read it.

  I flipped to the back page of the book and labeled the top To Do List.

  1.

  And stared at it for a while.

  When overwhelmed, just make a list, my mother always said. If you have to, start with the things you already accomplished and cross them out.

  Figure out a way to keep Rogue from impregnating me.

  Get dragon blood out of dress (find use for dragon blood?)

  Find out about humans in this world

  Study the tie between sex & magic

  Deal with Falcon

  Get home—Rubber Ducky? Black Dog?

  It would be ironic if, like the shoes on my feet, the creature that had dogged me along would turn out to be my way home. Crosser of boundaries. The Black Dog was the only being, besides me, I’d seen in both worlds. I really wondered who the rubber duck tribute came from.

  Several of the girls brought me lunch, along with a couple of buckets of waterfall water. I put down my pen and set to filling the copper basin of the gleaming fire pit with water.

  Time to get after my list.

  I retrieved the Ann Taylor dress, which smelled of some kind of musty sweet patchouli. Setting the dress into the water to soak, I sat cross-legged on the floor and munched on cheese and chicken-type things. I had thought about lighting a fire under the basin. In Mary Stewart’s books, Merlin said that creating flame was the first of his gifts to come and the last to go. As much as I had admired Merlin and wanted to be like him, I hadn’t even tried the creating-flame trick. Not even during sadism boot camp—though that was because my trainers had never asked that particular thing of me.

  As I still felt uneasy about fire in the tents, I promised myself I’d try some fire-starting later. Hell, if I could pull lightning—though I still wasn’t exactly sure how I’d done it—I could certainly create a little flame.

  But for now I concentrated on the water gradually warming up, while I poked at the dress occasionally with my finger, to sink the puffy parts under the water. When the water was hot, but not boiling, I added a bit of swirling, while I focused on the dragon blood leaving the dress and entering the water. Which didn’t work—I could actually feel the null resistance of it. The classic immovable object.

  So instead I thought about the dress pulling away, leaving the blood behind, and, yes, that sang right. The dress spun around the basin, black embroidery catching the light here and there. My own little washing machine, if I cared to do it this way. Which I didn’t. This was more about organic chemistry than housekeeping, though I’d always been struck by the similarities.

  I finally lifted the dress out manually. It would have been neat to raise it magically, but I wanted to be sure not to mess this up. I did wish a hook into the tent post next to the basin and hung the dripping dress on it, so that the liquid fell back into the basin. Then I carefully poured fresh water over the dress, rinsing it clean.

  Three rinses in distilled water to clean glassware for sterilization, three steps for magic in the stories—coincidence? I didn’t think so.

  I wrung the dress out one last time and took it out back, draping it over the bathtub to dry in the sun. Concentrating on the basin of water again, I warmed it up enough to simmer gently but not boil. Who knew at what temperature dragon blood denatured? I’d need better equipment than this to find out. Better to treat this like a wine sauce—just enough heat to reduce, not enough to evaporate the best parts of the alcohol. Eesh, what if there were valuable volatiles I’d be losing to the air, or worse, nasty toxins swirling about to poison us all? Couldn’t have that.

  I grabbed my ink bowl and dumped out the fluid. I could always make more. On a scrap piece of paper, I sketched my orgo lab distillation apparatus as best I remembered it, keeping it very simple. Fewer things to screw up. Focusing carefully on the design, I transformed the erstwhile ink bottle into a glass funnel that fitted to the top of the basin, complete with cooling chamber and output hose to another bottle.

  Resisting a mad scientist cackle, I set the distillation into motion.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Sun, the Moon and a Man

  By the time Larch came to fetch me for my self-defense lesson, I’d eaten and made several useful entries in my grimoire. I was really beginning to long for some kind of database capability so I could more easily revisit and cross-reference, but alas for that.

  The camp seemed bright with activity, a bit more purposeful than usual. Excited dancing about accompanied Larch’s broadcast of my name, with various greetings thrown my way and, in one case, manic juggling of what looked to be at least nine flashing pillows. Darling trotted along with us, tail held high and proud. He regally acknowledged the shouts of good wishes. No one seemed all that surprised to find him alive again.

  Of course, likely all sorts of conflated tales of the miracle circulated.

  We walked for a ways, around Falcon’s grassy hill, down across the stream, and then over a ridge on the far side. I drew in a surpr
ised breath at the vista below—a whole other camp lay before me. A camp of people like me. I wanted to wander the tent alleys below, saying “Hi! Human are you? Me too!”

  Larch had started down the hill and looked back at me with a politely servile but still pointed, waiting expression. Eager to see more, I trotted after him, soaking in the familiarity of sights and sounds. To my disappointment, Larch led me around the outskirts of the camp. I found, though, that I could easily pick up the human thoughts, like the scent of cooking on the breeze.

  I could smell the battle from a few days ago, the sweat and blood in their memories. The grinding pain of the gravely wounded, the triumph and resolution of the more successful. More than anything though, the air eddied with resigned boredom—the scent of active men waiting. In places the mental babble became a thick soup and I understood why Rogue had been so annoyed with my loud thoughts that first day.

  Besides being an intolerant megalomaniac, anyway.

  At the end of a long row of tents lay an area pounded into the soil, the grass trampled flat and worn thin in places. Racks of weapons stood to one side, canvas draping shrugged along the ground ready to be pulled over them in case of rain. A tall man with bronze curls and a weathered face waited there, looking in our direction, then squinted at the position of the sun.

  “I thought we agreed on three hours past midday, Larch!” he called out as we approached.

  Larch titled his head to the side and shrugged. I caught the man’s irritation layering over a desire to kick the Brownie. Oh yes, it felt good to be around my own kind.

  “I understand time,” I said. “From now on you and I can agree on a meeting and I can make sure to get here at the right time.”

  He measured me up and down, his expression carefully polite and formal, but I caught the warm buzz of masculine appreciation. Darling pranced over to circle him.

  “Can you now, Lady Sorceress? Not many of our kind end up working the magic with the fae folk.”

  “None,” Larch said.

  “Call me Gwynn.” Funny how I didn’t even hesitate over the name anymore. Maybe it helped keep the scientist and the sorceress separate in my mind. “I appreciate you agreeing to teach me something about keeping my head attached.”

  “Officer Liam.” He bowed to me. “I don’t know anything about magic, but I can show you a thing or two to keep you on your feet long enough to shoot off some fireworks.” He grinned at me.

  I blushed at the thought that passed through his mind and wondered if I should warn him that I could quite clearly get what he was thinking he’d like to do to me. The sensual electricity fed into me though, refilling that well. More study on the connection between sex and magic would be a good thing, so I said nothing. Besides, I had questions for Officer Liam.

  “Larch.” I turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me.” I tried to think of a polite way to get him to leave. “Larch, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  He frowned at me.

  I glanced at Liam. “I’m going to be here, what, an hour?”

  Liam squinted at the sun again. “Aye, an hour. Get here an hour earlier tomorrow and we can make it about two. You look pretty soft, in a most attractive way—but I doubt you can take much more than that, to begin with. But we’ll whip you into shape.” That sunny grin again.

  Be still, my heart.

  “The Lady Sorceress…” Larch began, his voice sinking into the stentorian tones that cleaved through crowds.”

  “Larch, it’s fine. Go do something and come back…later.”

  Larch bowed, nearly breaking in half with it, then stalked off.

  “He’s not going far,” I speculated.

  “They never do, Lady Sorceress,” Liam agreed. Darling wound between his feet and he looked bemused. “You brought your kitty with you?”

  I opened my mouth, paused, shrugged. “What can I say? He follows me everywhere.”

  Darling flashed me an irritated swat and I crouched down to scratch his ears. “Who’s a good puddy tat—hmm? Who’s my precious kitty?”

  He narrowed his eyes, puffed up his tail and stalked away, picturing me running myself through with my own sword. Not unlikely.

  “Let’s pick you out a weapon.”

  I followed him over to the weapons rack. “Have you been in the military all your life? Were you born here?”

  Liam paused and glanced at me over his shoulder. “The village I was born in lies about twenty days’ ride to the north, and I became a soldier as a young man, yes. Why do you ask?”

  “I come from—farther away. I don’t know much about the people here.”

  He shrugged, turning back to survey the weapons. “There’s not much to know. We’re people like any other, I suppose.”

  “Not like mine.”

  Liam smiled at me. “I’d love to hear all about your people, but this isn’t teaching you to keep your head attached.”

  He pulled out a pair of glittering metal wheels as big as—no, including the spikes, bigger than—my head. I stepped back. He held them up thoughtfully, measuring against me with one eye squinched, and nodded in satisfaction. He set those down and grabbed a staff longer than my arm.

  “Why not just a simple little knife?” I squeaked.

  “Simple question, easy answer.” He pulled out a wooden practice dagger and handed it to me. “Okay, stick me with it. Anywhere that looks like a good spot.”

  I took a step forward, careful not to step on my skirt, and sliced at his throat. Before I got the knife there, his hand was clamped on my wrist, stopping me cold, which was no surprise. “Now look down, Lady Gwynn.”

  I looked to see that he had another wooden dagger pressed just below my sternum, poised to strike upward.

  “See?” he said. “You have to get too close to a man to do any damage. Most everyone is going to have a longer reach than you do—any man would have you stalemated at best and gutted at worst before you got your blade near him. You want something that gives you an advantage.” He tapped the wrist he held meaningfully.

  “I could learn to throw it.”

  “Yes, but then you’ve thrown away your weapon.”

  “Oh.”

  “Keep that practice dagger, though. Knives can be good for desperation maneuvers—when you’re already in close and got nothing left. We’ll teach you a few. Keep one under your skirt.” Liam’s tone was all respect but, oh, the ideas in his head. I screened them out so I could concentrate.

  “Now these beauties…” He seized the metal disks. “These make it real damn hard for even a much larger man to get near you.”

  I took the wheels by the leather-wrapped handles, taken aback by their dense weight that pulled on my shoulder sockets. The polished metal shone blindingly. A sharpened crescent inside protected the back of my hand, while the outer curve of the disk sported blades radiating outward at regular intervals. Liam showed me how every surface was sharp—no matter how I poked or sliced, these would keep an attacker far away, and could I cast spells while I was moving? I should work on that, he told me sternly.

  I tried an initial swipe with the disk. And immediately caught it in my clothes, slicing a big rip in my skirt and just missing my own thigh. Liam, who had jumped back, stepped nimbly in and removed the weapons from my hands.

  “That, Lady Sorceress, is why we start you out with a stick. We’ll work with the sun-and-moon wheels down the road.”

  Liam taught me how to swing the short staff in simple figure-eight patterns that created a shield across the front of my body. He showed me how to place my feet for the best strength and balance. And laughed when I managed to clonk myself in the head with the stick.

  Liam looked bemused. “It’s probably a good thing you can do magic—you’re not much of a fighter.”

  “I’ve always been a klutz,” I m
uttered. “And this is my first time.”

  “Your people don’t learn to fight?”

  “Some do. Most don’t.”

  “You mean, all of the men, but just some of the women?” He nodded to himself. “I’ve heard of villages like that.”

  “No, some of our men don’t either. Are there women soldiers? I haven’t seen any.” I cast my mind over the camp, but it felt solidly male.

  Liam studied me. “No, our women stay home to defend the villages, since all the men must go to war.”

  “Why do you do it? Fight in these fae wars? There’s no purpose to them except to entertain the nobles.”

  A look of infinite sorrow crossed his face, like cloud swooping over the sun. “Your people must indeed be far away, for you to ask a question like that.”

  “Yes.” I almost said more, thought better of it. “So, why?”

  “Surely you understand that they have all the advantages over us—physical strength, magic, numbers.” He ticked the points off on his calloused fingers. “Besides, we have many vows constraining us.”

  “What’s the deal with oath-keeping anyway? What happens to someone who breaks a bargain?”

  “I hope you never find out, Lady Sorceress.” A horrific image dashed across his thoughts, but he suppressed it. Not so I couldn’t see, but because he couldn’t bear it. “Now let’s focus on what’s at hand. Try the figure-eight again.”

  “I’ll probably just klonk myself.”

  “Aren’t you glad that wasn’t a sharp-edged blade then?” He grinned, back to his sunny self. “Run it again.”

  Larch found me tired, sweaty and bruised in several places by the time he returned. The stick was lighter than the sun-and-moon wheels, but not by much, and my shoulder cried with relief when I set it down. Liam slid my wheels into a leather carrier and handed them to me, along with my stick.

  “I thought I’d just leave them here? Rather than dragging everything back and forth?”

  “No, Lady Gwynn.” Liam winked at me. “Keep your weapons with you. Get used to having them around, at your fingertips like your magic wand. Beside your bed, under your pillow.”