Reggie & Ryssa and the Summer Camp of Faery
Page 19
#1: Trust No One.
As the thought went through his mind, he became angry again with Aurelius.
“:It’s not necessarily Lord Aurelius’s fault for conceiving the idea,:” Starsong said.
“:Oh yeah? And how do you figure that?:”
“:It’s logic. If you were to break it down into one major difference between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, it would be that the Seelie try to look at things from a purely logical perspective, while the Unseelie usually approach things from an emotional perspective.:”
“:So you’re saying logically, it would be better to do something about Darkwind before she has the chance to do further damage?:”
“:From his perspective of logic, yes. But pure logic is not something that is experienced by anything other than a construct—a machine, if you will. Even the Seelie allow various levels of emotional input to seep into their logic.:”
“:So you’re saying the logic he’s using is flawed by emotion:?”
“:To an extent, yes. Logically, he should know that a bond is a bond and Darkwind can no longer do anything that Ryssa doesn’t control, even if only on a subconscious level. But the emotional side of the equation—the damage Darkwind caused when she went rogue, including the death of Aurelius’s brother—enters into his thoughts and leaves him doubting the logic.:”
Reggie thought about that. It made sense. His eyes drifted to the next rule written in the book.
2. Not everything is as it seems in Faery.
“That’s an understatement,” Reggie muttered under his breath.
3. None will lie in Faery, but you must sometimes listen hard to hear the truth.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Reggie asked out loud.
WHAT IS WHAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
The letters appeared on the right hand page, across from the list of rules. Reggie almost dropped the book. The letters faded away.
“:Did you just do that?:” Reggie asked Starsong.
“:Do what?:”
“:Write that reply to my question in the book.:”
“:No, it wasn’t me.:”
“:Then who was it?:” Reggie turned the book upside down. He looked around the training field and over his shoulder to see if anyone else was around, but saw no one.
“:Ask out loud—isn’t that when the first response appeared?:”
“Okay.” Reggie turned the book back around to face him with the pages opened upward. “Who is this?”
AN ECHO OF SOMEONE WHO HAS KNOWN YOU SINCE BEFORE YOU WERE BORN.
The letters appeared for a moment and then vanished as though they had never been there.
Reggie frowned. “Do you have a name?”
I HAVE MANY.
“Will you tell me your name?”
NO.
“Why not?”
IT IS SAID THE QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS CAN HEAR A WHISPER OF A THOUGHT ON THE WIND IF SHE CHOOSES TO LISTEN. I CHOOSE NOT TO SAY.
“Then how do I know that I can trust what you do say?”
The page remained blank for so long that Reggie almost gave up and closed the book.
I AM OF THE FEY. I CANNOT LIE LEST I BE DEEMED AN OATHBREAKER. I WILL TELL YOU THAT MY VOW AT YOUR BIRTH WAS TO PROTECT YOU AND YOUR SISTER. YOUR FATHER’S DEATH DOES NOT RELEASE ME FROM THE VOW I MADE TO HIM. YOUR FOSTER BROTHER’S DESIRE TO HELP YOU—TO PROTECT YOU—CALLED ME TO THE PAGES OF THIS BOOK TO HELP FULFILL MY VOW.
“Are you dead then—a spirit?”
SOME WOULD SAY YES. MY PHYSICAL BODY NO LONGER WALKS THE WORLD OF FAERY. MY SPIRIT CONNECTS TO THE BOOK TO GIVE ME THE ONLY ACCESS I AM ALLOWED.
“Is it dangerous for your spirit?” Reggie asked. “Is that why you’re afraid to tell me who you are—or were?”
IT IS A DANGEROUS TIME FOR ALL OF FAERY.
“Yeah. I’m kind of getting that.” He sat quietly for a moment, until a thought struck him. “Hey—does Terry know about you—is that why he only wrote on the left side of the pages?”
IT WAS AS HE SAID, HE WROTE ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE PAGES TO CONFUSE THOSE WHO CANNOT SEE WHAT THEY CHOOSE NOT TO SEE.
“So you didn’t, like, put a spell on him or something?” Reggie peered suspiciously at the book.
THE COMPULSION IS ON THE BOOK. I WORKED NO SPELL ON YOUR FOSTER BROTHER.
“:Interesting piece of work, that,:” Starsong interjected into the mix.
“Okay, then—back to that first question. Rule number three: What is that supposed to mean?”
EXACTLY WHAT IT SAYS. JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE IS NOT LYING, IT DOES NOT MEAN THEY ARE TELLING THE TRUTH. YOU CAN ASK SOMEONE WHAT COLOR THE SKY IS, BUT THEY CAN WORD THE ANSWER IN SUCH A ROUNDABOUT WAY AS TO LEAVE YOU THINKING IT IS GREEN OR RED—BECAUSE OF THE CONCLUSION YOUR DRAW FROM THEIR ANSWER—NOT BECAUSE THEY LIED. THINK CAREFULLY WHEN PHRASING YOUR QUESTIONS, AND REALLY LISTEN TO THE WORDS OF THE ANSWERS YOU RECEIVE.
“Yuck—double talk at its worst.”
IT’S AN ART FORM IN FAERY.
“That’s all right,” Reggie said confidently. “My foster mom always said that with the way my mind works I should be a lawyer. I’ll figure out the technicalities.”
BE CAREFUL.
“Er, thanks.” Reggie sighed. Right now, the two best companions he could trust to give him information about Faery were a stick and a bunch of paper.
“:Hey, watch it. I happen to be a little more than a stick.:”
“:And so you are.:”
“:Hey—you’re not pulling double talk right now, are you?:”
Reggie didn’t respond.
“What are you doing here by yourself?” Ryssa’s voice came from directly behind him.
Reggie slammed the book shut and twisted around to face her, raising an eyebrow. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same if Meek hadn’t followed you from the Team quarters.”
Ryssa reached down and grabbed the football from his lap and tossed it into the air a couple of times. All the while, she glanced around as though something might jump out at them.
Reggie looked from Meek to his sister. “You guys seem spooked. Is everything all right?”
“Nothing about this place is all right.” She shook her head.
Reggie stuffed the journal into his pack and climbed to his feet.
“I’m going to tell my brother, Meek,” Ryssa was saying to the silent boy.
Meek gave her a look of uncertainty. Reggie frowned.
“Listen,” Ryssa explained. “We usually share everything, and then we puzzle it out together. He’s the smart one.”
“Stop it, Ryss,” Reggie’s frown deepened. “Stop putting yourself down. You’re smart. You’re just lazy and don’t apply yourself.” His voice held a note of teasing at the end, but he felt guilty. He couldn’t share everything with her right now. He couldn’t tell her about Aurelius unless it became necessary. He wouldn’t put hurt on her like that. And the journal—well, he’d tell her about that, but not with Meek standing there.
Ryssa threw the football at him point blank and he caught it at the last moment before it bulleted into his chest.
“Snot.” She stuck out her tongue and stepped back. Raising her chin haughtily, she proclaimed, “Just for that, I’m not telling you anything.”
Reggie tossed the football to her, stepping further away.
“Come on, Ryss—what’s up?”
They tossed the football back and forth, adding a touch of normalcy to their bizarre lives. This was an activity they pursued often at home, sometimes involving the neighbor kids over the chain link fence that separated their yards. It kept their hands busy while they talked about whatever the topic of the moment was. The topic of this particular moment was Ryssa and Meek’s encounter with the Black Knight and the equally strange appearance of the Green Knight that had saved them.
At one point, Ryssa took the football over to Meek and showed him how to properly place his fingers along the laces and throw the ball to Reggie. It took him a couple of times to get the
hang of it, but soon all three were throwing the ball around between them while they talked. Or at least while Reggie and Ryssa talked. Meek just threw the ball and listened.
“So do you think maybe one of us did it?” Ryssa asked at the end. “Maybe one of us produced the Green Knight with some kind of accidental magic?”
Reggie was silent for a minute. He cocked his head as though listening to something. “Starsong thinks not,” he said at last.
“Are you two getting along?” a trace of envy was evident in her voice.
“Yeah, fine.” Reggie shrugged. “How about you and—”
“I’m dealing with it,” Ryssa cut him off with a sour face. “But Darkwind is a real pain—Ouch!” She smacked her pocket lightly and grimaced. “Literally.”
“Sounds like a good fit for you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning—that with your friends back home, you tend to get a little bossy. The ones who stick it out with you are the ones that give as good as they get. I think it’s the only way you respect them.”
“Maybe,” Ryssa said, “but it’s not like I have a choice with Darkwind. I’ll deal with it. I always manage somehow.”
“I know. It’s one of your strengths. Now back to the Black Knight thing. Starsong said that even with accidental magic, the chances of you bringing forth a solid, physical Green Knight to stop the Black Knight are pretty slim. But the Black Knight vanished when it touched the Green Knight, so it may have all been an illusion. There’s no way of knowing for sure.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly get close enough to poke him and find out whether he was real or not, now did I?” Ryssa twisted her lips sarcastically.
“No—but we can’t figure it out by just going on what little info we have.”
“I know,” sighed Ryssa. “But I don’t want the others to know. I kinda want to keep this to ourselves, at least for the time being.”
“Agreed.” He nodded in the direction behind her. Moira and Jet were walking toward them with Pyro and Gervais in tow.
Reggie tossed a long ball to Jet who caught it with a grin and slammed it to the ground. The Phooka twin held his arms high while he did his own version of an end zone dance.
“Cool!” Moira’s face lit up. “A football. Maybe if we get a little time to ourselves later, we can play. We have enough people to divide up into a couple of teams.”
“Sure,” Reggie said. “Sounds like fun. What’s up?”
“We’ve come to grab you guys and take you to the Wing Field.”
“Wing Field?” Ryssa looked confused.
“Yeah,” Jet laughed. “We’re going the full route of the little fairies. We have our wands—now we earn our wings.”
“Flying?” Reggie’s eyes danced with excitement. Then he remembered the stomach-churning trip to New Faery City. “Ugh—not the dragonflies again—I’ll think I’ll pass.”
“No can do.” Jet shook his head. “Personally, I’m a both-feet-on-the-ground kind of guy, too. But no, this is not a dragonfly. These are Faery wings.”
“I still don’t get—”
“Remember the Pixies at Madam Quinn’s?”
“Uh—those little flying creatures?”
“Yeah, them,” Jet said. “Pixies are the weavers of the Fey. They pretty much make anything that passes for clothing in Faery.”
“What does that have to do with Faery wings?” Reggie asked.
“I’m getting to that. Way back, even before the time of Dana, the Pixies experimented with thread made from spider webbing. Because of their size, they asked the Ghillie Dhu—”
“The who—?”
“The Ghillie Dhu—tree guardians of the Fey. Anyway, the Ghillie Dhu created super lightweight frames for the Pixies, ones they could manage with their small size, and all. While the Pixies wove their way in and out of the cloth, their wings would brush against the thread. I’m not sure exactly how it all works, but somehow, the combination of the spider thread, the lightweight frames, and the touch of the Pixie wings in flight creates the basis for Faery wings.
“The Pixies and the Ghillie Dhu work hand in hand now to make wings for those Fey who can’t fly. They’ve gotten pretty creative with the whole process. It takes years for the Ghillie Dhu to coax the vines into the proper shape for the Pixies to work with. You’ll see—they’re pretty cool. Our first lesson will be in elemental Air magic—the other ingredient needed for Faery flight.”
“Classes are back in session?” Ryssa gave a wry, lopsided grin.
“Yep.” Moira tossed the football to Reggie so he could stow it in his pack. “But this time we get a little hands-on work.”
Reggie tucked the ball into the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
“Football, huh?” Gervais eyed the pack as they began to walk. “So tell me about this game.”