Street Fair

by Cook, Jeffrey

  Chapter 39: Post-Carnage Brunch

  Megan blinked awake, when rolling over or pulling blankets over her head would no longer shield her from the bright, golden sunlight streaming in through the windows. Even the attempts at careful placement of windows in the Unseelie wing of An Teach Deiridh did only so much to defy the light of Faerie at high Summer.

  It took a few more moments to assure herself she wasn't dreaming, looking out over her room. Counting the meeting room, with its own table, couches and chairs, and several bookshelves, the suite her father had arranged for her was half the size of her house back in Seattle. King size didn't begin to describe the canopy bed, either. Lani had also slept in the bed—still was sleeping, in fact—and wasn't even in arm's reach. Jude had started the night curled up at the foot of the bed, some five feet away from Megan's feet, but had migrated over the course of the night to nestle against Lani for warmth. Ashling had her own satin pillow just over arm's length away on Megan's other side, while the Count had opted to rest atop the bust of Pallas set on a shelf near the door.

  Aside from the massive canopy bed, empty bookshelves, a wardrobe, and a dresser with a mirror, the room was mostly bare and undecorated. Mostly.

  Megan's first purchase from the market was mounted on the wall nearest the foot of the bed. She'd fallen asleep watching whirling leaves and swirling butterflies and rather liked the idea of waking to it regularly. Despite the difficulties caused by spending the card early, she was having trouble regretting the purchase now.

  As Megan stirred, Jude did as well, stretching and yawning. That movement, in turn, woke Lani, who grumbled, and tried to push the cat away. She had no luck and ended up finally giving in and sitting up. Megan didn't think that Lani's eventually scritching Jude's chest was going to discourage future cat-snuggling. "Morning," she mumbled towards Lani.

  "Ow," Lani responded.

  "You should get dressed," Ashling said. "There's a big breakfast being made for you guys."

  "Br'k'fs?" Lani mumbled, still shaking off sleep.

  "Shhhh," Ashling cautioned. "Don't say the 'K' word until you have pants on."

  "Brownies, timing," Megan agreed, doing her best to move quickly despite lingering bruises and burns. As much as she'd have loved to have lounged around and not tested aching muscles, she was starving. They found spare clothes roughly in their sizes left in the dresser for them and headed into the receiving room before Megan finally said it.

  “I hope Kerr will be able to join us for breakfast.”

  A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

  Kerr didn't arrive alone, the breakfast feast requiring five brownies to transport everything, but Kerr was still happy to join them to help try and make a dent in all the food.

  "So, I got to be part of the group who checked in on him,” Ashling said. “You should have seen the look on O'Neill's face when he found them cleaning out an 'abandoned' office, seeing as how no one had ever heard of a Professor O'Neill."

  Megan smiled, pushing a tray of honeyed fruit towards the pixie. "Professor who?"

  "Shhhh," Ashling said. "I hear the BBC is looking for spin-off ideas. I'd hate to feed his ego like that."

  The door opened again, this time with no knock, as Cassia entered, with Maxwell following. "Hey girls, hey traitor!" Cassia greeted them, scritching Jude cheerfully condemning his choice of sleeping arrangements. She dug into a couple of the meat options on the table with her bare hands, tossing the cats a share of breakfast, before making herself comfortable. "Nice job in there," she finally added.

  "It was! You should have seen it!" Ashling said, "Especially the part where Megan charged on her Griffon. That was almost as cool as when Lani fired all three of her personal catapults."

  Megan sighed. "Ashling, you weren't even there. And I don't have a griffon."

  Ashling gestured accusingly at the Count. "You lied to me! How am I supposed to write down the official account of the battle for the war records if I can't trust you?"

  "Caw, caw."

  "Oh, well, all right then. Charged in on her unicorn!"

  Megan was about to respond, then couldn't help but think of the four steeds drawing Orlaith's chariot, and decided that she could manage to wait for the official pixie account before passing judgment on the story.

  Justin, now sporting a more elaborate arm brace and sling, and her father arrived not long after. Riocard had a book tucked partially under his arm. The archaic cover caught Megan's eye: Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies. A place was marked in the book with what looked suspiciously like an academic certificate.

  “Sorry to be late bringing your young man,” her father said, apparently amused by the ensuing furious blushing from both Megan and Justin. “But I was catching up on some reading. Someone else's Midsummer nights.”

  “Where Robin Goodfellow is actually good for something?” Cassia managed to speak between bites.

  “Now, now. Robin, as I understand it, dropped some very interesting hints. That counts as good for something, from a certain point of view. But best we all get fed now.”

  Thankfully, there was no shortage of breakfast, even at the rate Cassia was eating. Justin looked like he was about to say something to Megan a few times, but each time, decided it could wait.

  Riocard waited until he'd properly settled in and filled his plate, then turned to Megan. "How did you enjoy your first night in your new room? Do you need anything else for it?"

  "Well, I like it, but I'm not really moving in, you understand," Megan said. "Not full time. Mom's getting better. She's really... I don't want to miss out on that.”

  “Of course not, dearest. But there may be many different benefits to your mother's being able to enjoy herself again. At any rate, I don't think it need interfere with an occasional visit, and you'll want a place to keep those things that just wouldn't suit well under her roof.”

  “Good point.” It was, but for the first time Megan could remember, she was feeling homesick. Last year, she'd pondered staying in Faerie, and never going back. It hadn't lasted long, but she'd had the thoughts a few times since. Now, real death and war had come to Faerie, while Megan couldn't wait to get to know the woman her mother was supposed to have been. She didn't doubt that she'd want to come back here soon, but despite the bed, and the feast, and the rest, she really wanted to go turn the radio on and make pancakes. As she looked towards Justin, she also found herself hoping pizza might happen soon.

  The rest of breakfast went well, but by the time their magically repaired and cleaned clothing arrived, Megan was ready to head for the portal. Cassia and Ashling remained behind.

  “We've got to get ready and go to a … thing.” Ashling.

  “Funerals,” Cassia said more bluntly. “We're going to funerals. We've all got to remember how to do funerals. It's been a while. But you three should go home.”

  At the mention of funerals, Megan noticed, Kerr stopped eating. The brownie didn't say a word, or anything so obvious, but it spoke volumes. The last time there had been a fight, it was followed by a giant party and a lot of "No hard feelings." Her father’d also mentioned that grief wasn’t his style. Megan wondered what Faerie grief was like, when it was in season, and she took Cassia's words for a warning.

  Fremont still showed signs of the recent fair, with clean up in full swing. After all of the spectacle, and the quick shifts between realms, everything continued to feel a little unreal to Megan until they'd piled into Space Ship! and left Fremont behind.

  Chapter 40: Someplace Like Home

  "Hey, can you guys wait here for a second?" Megan asked, as Lani stopped in front of her house to drop her off.

  "Sure, what do you need?" Lani said.

  "Just... wait here a second. I'll be right back, as soon as I figure out if I can go through with this or not." She darted up the walk and headed into the house. She took a few minutes catching her breath, and working her nerve up, before calling, "Mom, can you come here for a minute?"<
br />
  “What is it, sweetie?” As her mother approached, her face became more and more familiar, because she was getting worried. “Everything okay at Lani's?”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah,” Megan said, desperate to get that new relaxed look back. “We had a great couple of days. I was just wanting to... maybe take the opportunity to introduce you more properly to Justin because they're in the driveway and … and heandIarethinkingaboutmaybegoingout.”

  Sheila blinked. “Oh. Okay. Well...there'll be a lot to talk about, with that sort of thing. I guess we've never really needed to have that level of Talk before.”

  “Yeah. I understand. That later, maybe, and handshakes now?”

  Her mother smiled. “Handshakes now sounds fine, Megan.”

  After both teens had hesitated after the kiss, Megan wasn't sure how Justin would handle this moment. For that matter, she wasn't sure how her mother would handle it, but it was suddenly very important to get the introduction of her maybe-boyfriend over with. To her relief, Justin handled it with perfect grace, certainly far better than Megan had handled racing over the introduction of the idea.

  "A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," he offered, stepping out of the car.

  “I don't think, in all these months, I've ever heard your last name, Justin,” her mother said with an awkward smile.

  “Ludlow, Ma'am.”

  “Ah... like the port across the sound.”

  “I suppose so, Ma'am.”

  “Well, it's nice to finally be … formally introduced, Justin Ludlow. I certainly appreciate your and Lani's keeping Megan out of trouble.”

  Everyone laughed, and Megan hoped her mother wouldn't think that the girls laughed a little too much.

  "I appreciate your daughter putting up with me," he answered.

  After a few more idle pleasantries, Lani finally spoke up. “I'm really sorry, Ms. O'Reilly, but we have to be getting home.” Megan knew that Lani’s not having seen her own mother since her injury in the battle had something to do with that and nodded. They said goodbye, and Megan and her mother walked back into the house together.

  “So how have you been?” Megan asked.

  “Doing well. Erin from Sax & Violins called the other night to thank me again. I might need to get those girls in touch with some old friends of mine. They seem like they could get some use out of it, and they're all old enough I wouldn't have to worry about getting them mixed up in anything.”

  Megan noted to herself that her mother was still somewhat concerned with who got mixed up in what, but there wasn't the inherent anxiety in her voice, just matter-of-fact consideration.

  “Makes sense,” she said. “Speaking of connections, Mom, for my next psych appointment, what do you think about going back to that second-to-last clinic?” She'd already gone back to the old, moderate dosage for her ADHD medication, months ago. It would be nice to stop hiding that. “I kind of liked them.”

  Her mother pursed her lips, but only slightly. “They weren't too bad, I suppose. If you think your schoolwork could keep up just as well their way.”

  “I really think it could,” Megan said. She tried not to sigh audibly with relief. The fewer secrets the better. Maybe eventually, if she was sure her mother could handle it, she could tell her everything she was.

  "Okay, then we'll try it," Sheila said. "But Megan, with you maybe dating now, you know if you need to talk about anything..." she trailed off a little awkwardly.

  "I know, Mom," Megan said, stepping up to hug her mother. "I promise I will. But Justin and I both really want to take things slowly. He's really old-fashioned. Like ‘going out for pizza might be a little progressive’ kind of old-fashioned. And I'm okay with that."

  Megan's mother considered that a few moments, then nodded, still a bit hesitant. "All right, Megan. But school work comes first, right?"

  "I'll keep my grades up. He even helps with my history. It will be okay, Mom, you can trust me."

  Sheila hugged her back, not letting go for a few moments. When she spoke, it sounded like she was trying out words that she hadn't been expecting to say. "All right, Megan. I do trust you."

  Megan took the win and tried to switch subjects again. "Can we try a little music together later?"

  Sheila stepped back and smiled. "I have some work to get done later, after a couple phone calls, but if I catch up on everything, I think I'd like that."

  "Phone calls? Not for work?"

  "Not for work. A couple of old friends saw me up on stage. They want to know if I can come play with them on Friday night."

  "Are you going to do it?"

  "I don't know, Honey. There's a lot to do. And I'd have to leave before making dinner and things. They're playing an over-21 club, so I couldn't take you along."

  "It's okay, Mom. I can handle dinner. You should go."

  "You're sure?"

  "Very sure. Go, have fun."

  Sheila's smile became a lot more relaxed again, and she nodded. "Thanks, sweetie. I think I will."

  Sheila disappeared to make her phone call, and Megan went up to her room. She put a Late to the Party CD on at a reasonable volume and didn't worry that her mother might panic if she heard.

  Somewhere during “Psych Ward Composition,” a tapping sound interspersed with the pulsing of the music. Megan eventually found the cause: Ashling was banging on the window.

  The pixie made no preamble as Megan opened the window and the crow flew in. “So there we are, the Count and I, in the ballroom waiting for the King to be done being Professional with the Queen and the General. And that qa'hom Gilroy shows up.”

  “You and he got in a fight? Is that what this is about?”

  “No, it's about what he said.”

  “Something rude?”

  “No. He'd just come from the Fishing Hole. The cracks in the ice are worse, much worse, and they won't stop growing.” Ashling took a breath. “The lake won't hold the Fomoire back a full year."

  Book 3: A Fair Fight

  Chapter 1: Underground

  The will o'wisp provided the only illumination in the depths, the pale blue orb bobbing slowly ahead of the Gray Lady as she descended. Once she neared the underground river, blue light began to contrast with the pale greenish-yellow of bioluminescent fungus growing across the stone.

  Two sentries bearing pikes with cold black iron at the ends crossed them in front of her path. "You're a long way from home."

  The blue light drifted forward as the Lady stopped. "You should let me pass," came the whispering voice from the glowing orb.

  "No one recognizes your authority here. Go home."

  "I'm no longer seneschal, and I'm not here on the King's business. I will, however, have words with Tiernan."

  The guards tensed, hands tightening on their spears. "Is that so?"

  The Lady remained perfectly still, looking right past the pair. "It is so. He'll want to hear what I have to say."

  The pair glanced between themselves, "Then pass your message along. We'll see that he gets it," the one who hadn't been speaking before offered.

  "I will deliver the message to Tiernan myself. Tell the boatman."

  The pair exchanged glances one more time, then the spears parted. "Tell the boatman yourself, and if Tiernan doesn't like what you have to say, it's your funeral."

  "Perhaps so." She continued on to the water and lit the torch that signaled for a boat. The boatman hesitated, but gestured her aboard when she offered him two ring-shaped bits of metal. Tiernan did love his symbolism. And he could pretend he wasn’t inspired by any foreign culture as long as the money was old and Irish.

  The trip into the depths was a long one, and they passed three more guard stations along the only route, with dark-clad sorcerers and archers watching the passage.

  A tall, especially pale young sidhe with wide, dark eyes and shock white hair—just one remaining streak a familiar shade of red—waited for her at the docks of the underground village. He was flanked by eight more warriors, bearing more of the long
spears tipped with cold iron, holding them at the ready.

  “How did you know where to find us?” he asked.

  "I have my sources. You keep the pikes?" the wisp asked. "Here?" Despite the threat, the Gray Lady stepped off the boat.

  "Any fight that happens with our own kind will be a real one," he said. "I'm more surprised that you're here. The middle of nowhere, a place that is barely a rumor as a den of 'renegades too far beyond the concept of order to qualify as criminal.' Something terrible could happen, and who would hear?"

  As the wisp answered, "You would hear," the Gray Lady's pale lips parted.

  A gesture from the white-haired man, and the pikes were all carefully raised to be less threatening, and all but one of the warriors, Tiernan's right-hand man, stepped away. "It'd be a real fight indeed. But it isn't necessary if you don't think it so."

  The bean sidhe's lips closed again. "I do not."

  Tiernan nodded. "Who sent you? My aunt? Her lapdog? I'd ask about your boss, but I hear that he kicked you out."

  The Gray Lady narrowed her eyes slightly at mention of Riocard, but let the comment pass without any other note. "No one sent me. I'm on my own business."

  "I'm not used to the King's hand having her own business. Is this something to do with the mortal?"

  "The mortal was a tiny piece of something far larger. The ice is breaking."

  Tiernan nodded. "So Balor wasn't all there was to it. I'd heard rumors, but Inwar, curse the Northerner, keeps things close."

  "You knew of O'Neill's goals?"

  "That he was going after Balor's grave? I make a point of knowing about those things that remind my dear aunt of her own mortality."

  "And yet she stood against the undead."

  "That was the undead. I'm curious what would have happened had Balor risen. And skeletons aren't Fomoire. Well, they shouldn't be. But they certainly exposed weaknesses in the vaunted armies of The Last Home, didn't they?"