Lava Red Feather Blue

by Molly Ringle

  “Gods. So what do I do? Give them all this, anonymously, with a letter explaining it was just a mistake?” He waved to the magical items scattered on the table.

  “Well … ” Sal chewed her bread, her eyes moving from one trinket to another. “Thing is, the plan Rosamund wrote down here, these charms she made, I’m not sure any good would come of handing them over to Riquelme’s team. They might tuck these charms into their arsenal, hush up your explanation, and go ahead with their excuse to wage war on the fae.”

  Anger sparked him back into motion. He picked up the knife and slapped butter on his bread. “Okay. Then is it time to put Larkin’s video on social media? The first one we made. Let everyone know what really happened, so the government can’t hush it up.”

  “Might be a good idea. They could still deny it, but the public would have the truth, and the majority would get behind that version. Riquelme’s not popular. People would rather believe Larkin, not to mention they’d be thrilled to hear from him.”

  “Then we post it anonymously, get it circulating. But … ” He looked at the window. Night had fallen. Rain ran down the glass. “What do we do about Ula Kana?”

  “That,” Sal said, “is the big question.”

  CHAPTER 22

  LARKIN WAS WHISKED TO A MEETING WITH THE palace’s press representative, who spoke to him and to the Witch Laureate in order to craft a public statement announcing that Prince Larkin was found, conscious, and well. Then Larkin was whisked out of that meeting and into another, regarding the security of the city and the palace. After that meeting, by which point it was seven o’clock p.m., he was taken to the fourth floor, where the queen and crown princess awaited him.

  Both wore flowing trousers and shirts of silk, and diamonds and emeralds in their earlobes. They told him it was time for a change of clothing and then dinner, and showed him to the rooms that had been readied for him, assuring him he could ask for anything he required. He was their most honored guest; they were entirely at his command.

  This was much the way in which he and his family would have greeted any visiting dignitary, but it saddened him to be treated as a guest in his own home. His assigned set of rooms on the fourth floor had been the nursery in his day, recently refurnished with a canopy bed and multicolored Turkish carpeting. Curtains of gold damask hung gathered at the bed’s corners and beside the balcony doors, which stood ajar to let in the fresh air. Gigantic flower arrangements sat on the sideboards, all the blossoms in shades of lava red and kiryo-feather blue.

  A four-foot-tall sprite in a lime-green suit leaped forward to take his measurements, hopping onto a chair to reach Larkin’s shoulders, so that new clothes could be brought to him. The queen asked if, after dinner in his rooms, His Highness might be so kind as to reconvene with her and other officials.

  “I am at your service,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Her Majesty said. “We’ve released the statement to the press announcing that you’re here. The public has now seen you with Akio, in that short clip we allowed them to record. And we aren’t certain how, but your first video, the one you initially sent us, has been circulating on social media. Not what we wished, but it would seem some journalist got hold of it … ” She made a regretful “tsk” with her tongue.

  Larkin felt a surge of gratitude toward Merrick and his family, who undoubtedly had been the ones to send that message into the wider world. Disseminating the truth of his involuntary sleep would help protect him, just as he was trying to protect Merrick.

  “You’ve become a gigantic sensation,” the queen added. “It’s exactly the positive news everyone needed.”

  “I’m pleased. I hope I’ll be allowed to address the public in person soon.”

  “Of course. But it’s late and we have yet more meetings, so let’s discuss it tomorrow, shall we?”

  She departed, and he was left alone, with a pair of guards outside the door.

  He looked about, seeking some familiar detail from his time playing and learning in this room as a child. Save for the architectural outlines—wainscoting, ceiling medallions, balcony balusters—virtually nothing was the same. It smelled like flowers and lemon and clean fabric, rather than the scent he associated with this room, of chalk, ink, and well-loved toys. His emotions barely arose; nothing remained to stir them.

  He walked to the balcony and hesitated at the threshold. He had never liked being this high up and had rarely been brave enough to step out onto these balconies when he was young, nor any other above the second floor. Lanying had teased him about it, going out and sticking her leg between the bulbous stone posts of the railing, wiggling her foot in the air, challenging him to do the same. He never could. His bedroom had been on the second floor at his own request, from as early as he could remember. He would have preferred the ground floor, but the second was as low as his family would consent to go for reasons of keeping him better guarded.

  As an adult he had learned to step out upon high places as long as there was a thick enough railing, and to look composed while doing it even though his heart beat violently and his knees quivered. He still felt those symptoms as he stepped out, but he forced his hands to take hold of the rain-dampened stone rail, the wind blowing across his face.

  Beneath him spread the plaza. The lemon orchard he had once walked through with Boris on warm nights had been torn up and paved over, and instead flowering plum trees grew at regular intervals across the expanse, their branches decorated with tiny orange and blue lights. Harsher lights and machinery surrounded the southern corner of the palace, which Ula Kana had destroyed, though from his vantage point he could not see most of the rubble-clearing taking place, as it was blocked by other parts of the building.

  I freed you, and I want you to stay that way.

  Are you sure we can trust the palace or the government?

  Larkin would have already kept up his guard even without Merrick’s words on the subject, but it comforted him to know he had friends outside this building who might care about him as an individual, not merely as the famous sleeping prince.

  If only he could send a message to Merrick.

  It’s strange, but I miss you. I meant it truly when I said I wished to see you again. But I cannot send for you without endangering you.

  Larkin bowed his head and stepped back into the room.

  Tender sentiment? That did an island under siege no good.

  Nye: The news finally announced Larkin’s been found. Are you all right?

  Cassidy: Larkin’s first video is going viral. What’s going on??

  Merrick sighed, ate a slice of cheddar from the plate Sal had put on the table, murmured his thanks to her, and replied to them both.

  Merrick: I’m all right. Haven’t planned what to do yet. Don’t have a good feeling about how the government will respond but that’s nothing new

  Nye: I hear you. Stay strong kiddo.

  Cassidy: Fine. I have no interest in knowing where you are.

  Across from him at the kitchen table, Sal sat hunched over Rosamund’s journal, holding one of the crystals from the box and grunting to herself as she reviewed the ancient notes.

  Merrick navigated back to the news. From the burner account, he had sent Larkin’s video to a handful of journalists, and within the hour it had exploded on Eidolonian social media and generated countless articles. It had also brought an onslaught of emails to the temporary account, but he had no intention of answering those.

  “What are people saying?” Sal asked.

  “Still about one-quarter ‘It’s a hoax; that’s an actor,’ with the rest believing it’s him. A crowd’s gathered at the palace gates, demanding he appear in person.” A smile pulled at Merrick’s mouth as he watched a clip of the Larkin fans chanting and holding up hand-lettered signs proclaiming their adoration of him.

  “I hope to meet him too,” Sal said. “He’d have interesting stories to tell.”

  “He does.” Merrick set aside his phone. He, too, ached for a glimpse
of Larkin. Wanted Larkin all to himself again, in fact. “What good did it do him to go back to the palace? Catching him won’t catch Ula Kana. They should let him leave, now that they know he’s fine.”

  “Maybe they will.”

  “Ideally before digging my name out of his memory.”

  They both knew that wasn’t likely. Sal just made another “Hm,” put down the crystal, and picked up the lapis lazuli ball.

  Merrick would have to confess before long. He was beginning to realize that, an inescapable conclusion that hung as a weight in his stomach. Yet arresting him wouldn’t stop Ula Kana either, so what was the point? There had to be a better option.

  “What about Rosamund’s plan?” Merrick nodded toward the book. “Could it work?”

  “Well. In theory.” Sal flipped back to the first map Rosamund had sketched. Her finger poked the wide plain between mountains and forests. “The Kumiahi desert. And these all around … ” She touched the scrawled words around the desert’s edges. “Are the fae who rule each of these regions.”

  “The rulers haven’t changed in two hundred years?” Merrick thought they hadn’t, from what he’d heard, but what happened within fae territory wasn’t well reported. He knew only that there were dozens of smaller territories within the fae realm, some areas ruled by individuals and some by groups, with boundaries subject to occasional change after disputes with, and takeovers by, other fae.

  “Hasn’t changed in these cases. These three are all still alive and in charge.”

  “Rosamund meant to get their help trapping Ula Kana in the desert, was Larkin’s interpretation.”

  “Yes. With these.” Sal picked up one of the three dagger-like items, each only as long as Merrick’s hand from hilt to tip. They were made of obsidian, or pitchstone, likely chipped from the mountain of that name. “The Kumiahi is fire fae territory, not owned by any one individual, just theirs generally. No other groups want it. Too hot, too dry, too many lava fumes. Thus might make a good large prison for someone like Ula Kana, if you could get her in there and seal its borders.”

  Merrick took another dagger and touched its sharp edge. “These could do it? Three little knives?”

  “You’d have to get the cooperation of each faery who shared the border with the Kumiahi.” She touched the south border of the desert. “Sia Fia has this part.” She moved to the territory that curved around the west and part of the north. “Arlanuk here.” Then for the rest of the north and the east, up against the flank of Pitchstone Mountain: “Vowri.” Her voice sank to a whisper at that name.

  A chill ran through Merrick. Vowri was a well-known name, though a rarely-seen faery. She wasn’t as dangerous as Ula Kana, in the sense that she stayed in her own territory and didn’t go out to attack the human world. But she was one of the prime reasons it was considered unwise to send volcanologists to Pitchstone Mountain, no matter how important it was to make forecasts about future eruptions. All of the fae realm was dangerous, but in Vowri’s territory people disappeared at the highest rate of all, and what happened there was shrouded in murk—literal volcanic clouds as well as an uncanny lack of gossip.

  “That … wouldn’t be easy, no.” Merrick set the dagger down. “But if you did get their cooperation, how would the blades seal the border?”

  Sal leafed to another sketch. “Each of the three fae would get a dagger. Then they’d wait for the signal: this firework.” She picked up the clay ball, the size of a peach pit, with a wick sticking out of it. “At the signal, they’d all plunge their dagger into the ground at the border between their territory and the Kumiahi. Boom: that activates the shared spell Rosamund put into the daggers.”

  “A force field?”

  “Pretty much. Between Rosamund’s magic and the territory rulers’, which they’d be backing it with, it ought to be enough to keep the Kumiahi walled off with Ula Kana inside. Of course, you’d have to get her in there first.” Sal tapped the stick with a tarnished wire wound around it. “Summoning stick is for that.”

  “What if other fae wanted to go in or out of the desert? Would they get trapped too?”

  Sal turned another page and ran a finger along the words—to Merrick’s eye it looked like knife and oriented to individual. “Looks like she made it specific to just Ula Kana. She was legendary for being able to contain her spells like that. Not many witches can do it, especially to a faery.”

  “Then these other things … ” Merrick waved toward the rest of the charms. “Gifts for the territory rulers, I assume.”

  “Mostly. This, however, is to help the human traveler survive the trip.” Sal picked up the bottle of violet-blue liquid. “Lucidity.”

  Merrick’s eyes widened. “That’s lucidity? The real thing?”

  “Real and potent. I can feel its strength through the glass.”

  “I’ve never even seen any.” Merrick remembered from his magic classes—some of them taught by Sal herself—that lucidity guarded a person’s mind and body against spells, even those as strong as the fae’s. It did wear off after a few hours, but until then it was the most potent form of magical protection available.

  “The Researchers right now only have one witch who can make it. It’s why ordinary people can’t get it, at least not without spending a fortune on the black market.”

  Merrick took the bottle. “Do you drink it?”

  “Nope. Inhale. You dab it under your nostrils.”

  He smiled. “A perfume? Rosamund created a perfume?”

  “Runs in the family, right? Well, I can’t guarantee it smells good, but it should work.”

  “Can I open it, just to smell?” He was already unsnapping the metal clasps that held down the cork.

  “Sure. Don’t spill, though. It’s precious.”

  He eased the cork out with the utmost care and took a tentative sniff. “Oooh. That’s different. Potent, all right. Kind of metallic, ashy—that’s the spell ingredients, I bet—but there’s herbals in there too. Rosemary, spearmint, orange peel … good choices for memory boosting. There’s got to be a preservation spell on it. No way orange would keep its scent that long otherwise.”

  Sal took it and sniffed too. “Ah, yes. Perfectly preserved, I’d say. This is quite a find.” She handed it back to him, and he replaced its cork with reverence. “Even so, this is an incomplete list. I’d add more supplies if I were sending any human in there. More gifts, more protection. Just to be safe.”

  Merrick set down the bottle and picked up the milky pink crystal, translucent and cut into egg shape. He rotated it so the light from the kitchen lamps glided along its polished surface. “So would the plan work?”

  “With those extra safety features … maybe. If it were approached in the right way, by the right person.”

  “You said ‘sending any human’ in there. What about having a faery do it?”

  “You know better. This whole quest would be on behalf of humans. It isn’t fae business unless Ula Kana bothers them, and then they’d deal with her in their own way. It’s just the rule. If the human population wants this done, they have to ask each faery involved, make the proper offering, and agree to the proposed deal before winning their cooperation.”

  “And survive a journey through the fae realm.”

  “Which is the main reason I have my doubts. Humans don’t have a great track record with that.”

  Merrick set down the crystal and rested his chin on his hand. All these mysterious, dazzling objects, bursting with hidden magic. Exactly what he had hoped to discover, yet frustratingly illegal, and possibly too dangerous for him to toy with, considering the mess he had already caused with just one of the charms.

  “Maybe even the Researchers Guild wouldn’t be able to do it,” he said, mainly to console himself.

  “They’d have access to good survival supplies. Otherwise … ” Sal shrugged. “A team of so-called experts might not fare better than anyone else. In fact, given Riquelme’s attitude, the fae might view any government representatives as ho
stile. Or at least arrogant.”

  “They are,” Merrick said, thinking of his final bitter arguments with his ex, Feng, who had left him to join the Researchers Guild. “They’re completely arrogant.”

  “Rosamund knew she couldn’t do it because of that. She’d antagonized them too much by then. Says so in her letter to Larkin.” Sal turned to those pages. “Most of the fae will not work further toward any common purpose with me, and I cannot do it without them.”

  Merrick set a finger on the sphere of lapis lazuli and rolled it back and forth. “Then how will the government stop her?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sal sounded grave. “I can think of ways they might try, but I can also see each way going horribly wrong.”

  The sphere felt icy under his fingertip. “What about me? If we got those extra supplies. If we went over the map so I’d know where to go. Would I have a shot?”

  She chuckled. “I figured you’d propose that eventually. Well, you’d have as good a chance as anyone, which is to say, not great. But better than Rosamund back then, or Riquelme’s people now. You haven’t actively offended the fae, as far as I know.”

  “I’m even half fae.”

  “Could help. Would at least make you more resistant to some of their spells. But you’re still mortal and would still be affected, and you might also be vulnerable to Ula Kana, who has persuasion powers over fae.”

  “Yes, but … ” Merrick pushed away the blue sphere and sat up straighter. “They’re going to find me before long and arrest me. Or else I can run away from the island. But I hate both those options. I want to help, like Larkin’s doing. He stepped up even though he wanted to leave. I could at least try to be as brave as that.”

  “It’s never been bravery you lack.”

  “Responsibility, then. If I could do this quest … oh, I don’t know. The plan’s incomplete, like you said. And trying it alone would probably be stupid.”