‘Did your mother never tell you not to speak with your mouth full, young lady?’ Twill asked.
Ophelia looked a little surprised at being told off by a fairy, but she swallowed before continuing. ‘My mother kicked me out of the house as soon as I was seventy-two. She wasn’t big on manners. Anyway, the Wildhorns, for example. They think fae should live in the wilds, live off the land… you know, sleep under the stars.’
‘And, since they’re Unseelie,’ Twill added, ‘they believe in being unruly.’
‘I’m Unseelie and I don’t believe that,’ Ophelia replied, pouting a little.
‘The Silvershields are a very… modern House.’ The fairy looked thoughtful. ‘I sometimes think that four centuries of rule by the Seelie Court is reducing the distinctions between the two viewpoints.’
‘You think the Unseelie are going soft?’
‘Soft? More diplomatic, less callous. However, I was more thinking that Seelie politics is growing more harsh, more goal-driven rather than idealistic.’
Ophelia gave a small shrug. ‘I’m not old enough to remember what it was like when there were two courts, and you’re younger than me.’
‘Really?’ Ceri asked. ‘How old are you? Uh, if you don’t mind me asking.’
‘A little under three hundred. Still a girl, really. I mean, if you take into account how long I’ll live, I’m a teenager. Well, kind of.’ She frowned. ‘That’s assuming I don’t get executed at the next full moon, of course.’
‘Not going to happen,’ Ceri told her. ‘I don’t plan to end up dead or partying until I’m insane, so you’re not getting executed.’
‘Still might end up dead,’ Michael commented in far too relaxed a tone. He pointed out across the grassland outside the village. ‘Those things don’t look like they’re planning on stopping by for tea.’
Ceri turned to look over her shoulder. Five hulking figures were running across the grass toward them. Each looked to be around eight or nine feet in height with huge, muscular limbs and bodies. They appeared to be carrying clubs made out of tree limbs ripped directly off the tree. ‘Are those…?’
‘Mountain trolls,’ Ophelia said.
‘Out of their normal habitat,’ Twill agreed.
‘You think they want to talk?’ Ceri asked. One of the trolls let out a roar, brandishing his club in the air, and the others followed suit. Ceri rose to her feet, her staff in her left hand. A ball of orange, flickering light began to grow in her right palm. ‘I’ll take that as a no.’
Behind her, Lily took a pair of sai, three-pronged, blunt edged weapons, from her bag and got ready to fight. She had selected a black dress to wear, the wide skirt making it easy to move. Michael stood and got rid of his britches again; he had not bothered with the rest of his clothes yet and he was in fur and ready a second later.
Ceri waited for the trolls to get into range, her eyes narrowing as she took aim, and then let the ball of light fly. It hit the ground just in front of the leader of the trolls at around fifty yards from them and exploded. It was as though a small nuclear bomb had gone off. Fire rippled out across the grass like a tidal wave; they felt the heat of it even where they were standing. When the flame died away the leader was on his back, looking very charred and very dead. The other four were still moving, but slower. All of them were hurt and Ceri was amazed that they were actually still trying to attack. She pulled more power through her staff, the blue enamel beginning to glow as she did so, and took aim at one of the other trolls.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Ophelia asked, her voice urgent.
‘A better target,’ Ceri replied, and then let another bolt fly. This one was blue-white and punched through the chest of its target. The troll stumbled and then crashed to the ground, leaving a rut in the burned grass. She readied another bolt, but the remaining creatures seemed to decide that the odds had turned against them. Turning, they began to stumble off the way they had come. Ceri let the tension go from her body and closed her hand around the energy she had gathered.
‘You’re letting them go?’ Their resident Unseelie seemed a little upset that Ceri was allowing their attackers to live.
‘I’m not into killing dumb animals. Besides, it takes a helluva lot of power to do that kind of thing and I’m a sorceress, not a goddess.’ Ceri started across the huge patch of scorched grass toward the nearest body.
Up close, the unburned skin looked grey and kind of stony. The trolls had thick hide, small eyes, and short tusks protruding from their lower jaws. The leader had been wearing a rough loincloth, but the other was naked, and about as pretty as a malformed pig. He also had an odd tattoo on his shoulder. It was quite complex and Ceri recognised the form, if not the meaning.
‘Neemoord?’ she said. ‘That mean anything?’
Ophelia frowned at her, so did Twill. ‘It’s High Fae. “Discord.” How can you read High Fae?’
Ceri shrugged. ‘I didn’t know I could. ‘That’s a Draconic glyph. Their ideograms are phonetic. I don’t know what it means, but I can pronounce it. High Fae is written in Draconic glyphs?’
‘Historically,’ Twill replied. ‘As in, a long time ago. Mostly it’s written in Ogham now, but you still see some documents written in Old High Fae at Court. There aren’t many scribes who know it these days, and few others who can read it.’
‘Huh,’ Ceri grunted. ‘Well, Huanglong is supposed to have given writing to the Chinese. Maybe a dragon did the same for the fae. “Discord.” Doesn’t it seem odd that a brute like this would have that written on his shoulder?’
‘They aren’t noted for wearing tattoos,’ Ophelia replied, ‘and certainly not ones written in Old High Fae.’
Michael ran back from the leader’s corpse, shifting to human as he got close. ‘The same thing is on the other body. Some sort of tribal marking?’
‘Not tribal,’ Lily said. ‘It’s too literate for that. You know, it’s kind of like my tattoo. Maybe a personal rune, or at least an allegiance mark. They were working for someone.’
‘You did say someone would try to kill us before we got to the palace,’ Ophelia pointed out.
‘We set guards tonight when we sleep,’ Michael said. ‘I know the soldiers will be doing it, but I don’t trust them.’
Ophelia nodded. ‘You know, for a werewolf who isn’t into his third decade, you’re surprisingly wise.’
~~~
By the time the rest of the travellers had gorged themselves on over-expensive inn food it was late in the afternoon and it was decided that they would spend the night in Allenville. Rooms at the inn were plentiful, the innkeeper appeared to rely heavily on passing traffic to keep himself solvent, but they were expensive for what you got and declared to be about as secure as an open field by Michael and Ceri. So they elected to sleep in an open field. Ophelia was not particularly happy.
‘I did mention I liked mattresses, right?’ the Sidhe grumbled.
‘The fresh air will be good for you,’ Ceri told her, ‘and we’ll be able to see anyone coming for us before they get close. We aren’t even asking you to stand a watch.’
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘You just told me to man up and stop bitching, didn’t you?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Fair enough.’ Ophelia grinned and set about trying to find a comfortable way to lie down on the bedroll she had been given.
‘All right,’ Ceri said, shaking her head, ‘I’ll watch through to midnight, Lil does midnight to four, Michael, if you take four until dawn…’
‘And what about us?’ Twill asked.
Ceri looked at the two fairies. Twill was looking far too calm. There would be sarcasm if Ceri had not considered them for watch duty. Which she had not, but there was no way she was letting Twill know that. ‘Could you do the overlaps? Say ten until two and then two until six? Hmm… and get me out of bed at six. Dawn is a good time to mount an attack.’
Twill nodded. ‘Ishifa can take the first watch. Please wake her if she’s asleep. Is
that good for you, Ishifa?’
The younger fairy seemed very pleased to be doing the job, whatever the time. ‘Of course, Mistress. I won’t let you down.’
‘I’m quite sure you won’t. Now, let’s see if we can get some sleep.’
Ceri settled down at the edge of the little group of bedrolls and drew in her power, focussing it on the area around them, and then letting it go. She smiled; anything getting within about fifteen yards of them would alert her, even if it was invisible or coming up behind her. With her staff resting in her lap, its enamel markings still glowing from the thaumic residue it was holding, she settled down to watch for trouble.
It was a fairly quiet night. There were sounds coming from the village; likely from the inn where the once-wedding party seemed to be indulging themselves. Those were muted by the distance they had put between themselves and the buildings. Apparently no one had considered that they might just run for it with no one watching. In truth, Ceri had not really considered it either. Someone had murdered a fairy, and it seemed like it had been done for a reason. Between her natural hatred of a mystery and her sense of justice, Ceri wanted to get to the bottom of it, and she was sure the answer was not Ophelia.
A sound behind her made her turn to look over her shoulder, but all she saw was the Sidhe padding across the grass on bare feet to sit down beside her. ‘Can’t sleep?’
‘I’m used to going to bed later.’
‘You’re probably used to waking up later too, and the local birds well probably wake you at dawn.’
‘And I’m still nervous. And when I sleep I have bad dreams.’
‘What kind of dreams?’
‘Oh nothing prophetic or useful. If we can’t prove my innocence they have some imaginative methods of execution. I’d be tortured to death one way or another unless throwing myself on the mercy of the Court works. Then they’d just behead me.’
‘I’m not a great fan of torture.’
‘No, I’d imagine not. This wouldn’t be torture for information though. The aim is to cause as much pain and humiliation as possible before killing me. I’d likely be given to Oberon’s company of mountain trolls. It’s tidy. They usually eat what’s left after they’ve finished.’ Both of them shuddered.
‘Well, if whoever it is keeps trying to kill us, we should have enough evidence to suggest that someone else did it.’
‘Yes, but we have to prove I didn’t.’
‘Guilty until proven innocent?’
‘Basically, yes. If they think I did it, but can’t be sure, they’ll torture me to get a confession. It wouldn’t be fair to put innocent people on trial like that, so you’re only brought to trial if you’re guilty.’
‘There’s a really twisted, nasty sort of logic to that.’
‘That’s why it’s kept going for centuries. And no one gets to say it’s wrong. Dissension tends to be punishable by death or exile.’ She went silent for several seconds. ‘If they torture me, they will break me and I’ll condemn all of us.’
‘We’re not going to let that happen, Ophelia. Unless it turns out you’re playing us, and then the last thing you’ll need to worry about is what Oberon is going to do to you.’ She gave the Sidhe a grin to show she was kidding.
‘Balor’s Baleful Eye, girl! I’m not stupid enough to try to trick you. Not on this anyway. No one else would try to help me.’
February 3rd
There was a shadow in the darkness. Ceri could not quite make it out, but it seemed to be female. There was enough definition to make out breasts, hips, long legs, maybe long hair. There was also a voice which seemed to echo, and that was female.
‘War is coming, Ceridwyn.’
‘Another one?’ Seriously, had there not been enough of that?
‘We can help… or hinder. That is for you to decide, when the time comes.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Cíocal’s people return, Ceridwyn.’ A sense of alarm accompanied the statement and Ceri turned…
…twisting in her blankets to see Michael, all fang and claw, struggling with a tall, humanoid figure dressed all in black. Twill was buzzing around the figure’s head, distracting him, but there was already blood on Michael’s grey coat and the long, curved knife the assassin was holding.
Ceri’s will clenched, the expenditure of energy so small she barely noticed it, and Michael’s attacker let out a sharp cry as his hand spasmed and the blade fell to the ground. Michael’s arm swung out, and then in and across. The assassin tried to block the blow, but Michael’s sheer power made it impossible and his claws ripped through the man’s stomach leaving four bloody gouges and a lot of ripped cloth. Making a sickening gurgling noise, the black-clad man folded over Michael’s arm and sank to the ground.
The werewolf turned him over, and they could see the shallow movement of his chest, and the blood spreading thickly in the heavy, black cloth. Ceri got to her feet. ‘Michael, are you all right?’
He looked at the cut on his chest and gave a shrug. Heal fast, he growled.
‘The blade could be poisoned,’ Twill commented urgently.
Not. No smell.
Ceri nodded. ‘Looks like we have someone to question, when he wakes up.’ She picked up the dagger he had used, one of several he had, though the others were still sheathed. It was plain, with a hilt of black wood. Nothing much to work with there. She turned to find that Michael had pulled away the man’s scarves to reveal his face. He looked like a Sidhe. The werewolf gave a grunt and pulled a silver chain from under the man’s tunic. Bending down, Ceri looked at the emblem embossed into the silver. ‘The discord ideogram again. I believe we have a pattern.’
~~~
They had tied the assassin up and sealed his wounds, but when the sun was finally lighting the little camp and they went to check on him, they found a corpse.
‘Poison,’ Ophelia said, looking at the twisted expression on the man’s face. ‘There’s a type of fish that lives in the lakes in the South Lands. You can extract a venom from its liver that can be taken orally. It’s not immediately lethal, but there’s no non-magical cure and it usually kills its victims.’
‘He committed suicide rather than be questioned?’ Michael asked, sounding disbelieving. ‘That’s a cowardly way out.’
Ceri shrugged. ‘I’ve had a lot of experience with torture, if he thinks we would do half the things to him that I’ve had done to me…’
‘If you weren’t willing to,’ Ophelia said, ‘then the Royal Inquisitor certainly would have.’
Michael gave a sniff. He had seen the state Ceri had been in when they had rescued her from the Witch Hunter who had been her last torturer. She had been a mess. Then again… ‘Ceri was burned with cigarettes, starved, electrocuted, and he tried to yank her arms out of her shoulder joints, and she didn’t break.’
Ceri kept her eyes on the body, starting to check for anything hidden among his clothes. ‘No, I broke. I just hadn’t realised it when you broke in and stopped him.’ She gave up searching and reached up to yank the chain from around the corpse’s neck. ‘Twill, Ishifa, could you carry the body back. We’ll strap it to the roof of the coach and take it to the palace with us.’
~~~
The next stop was a small, walled town on the edge of what looked like a very large, dense forest. It took the train all day to get there and the sky was dark by the time they were pulling through the northern gate. They had lost several of the carriages along the way; there were only the Wintergreens and the Unseelie families left.
The small stream of Wintergreens and Darksuns coming from the same coach looked toward Ophelia as they headed for the inn they had stopped at. There was a lot of anger there, and Ceri’s pendant highlighted all of it as they passed. It also picked out Briarin, who was not looking at Ophelia. His eyes followed Twill, but his expression was just as black.
‘Briarin really doesn’t like you,’ Ceri said to Twill.
‘I did basically say I’d rather die than marry him, dear. Th
at kind of thing can result in bad feelings.’
‘True. If we’re sleeping under the same roof as that lot, though, we’re keeping a watch again.’
‘I doubt we’ll be able to spend a night here without mounting a watch,’ Michael commented as he started for the door. ‘And by “here” I mean this whole world.’
‘You’ve a point,’ Ceri said, following him. ‘Do we have money to pay for a room?’
‘I’ve got it,’ Ophelia said. ‘Considering I kind of got you into this, I can at least pay for you to be here.’
‘We volunteered,’ Lily replied. ‘We’re stupid like that.’
They trooped in and waited for the others to get rooms from the Sidhe innkeeper. Ceri noticed the muttered conversations the man had with the Darksuns and was half expecting what he said when Ophelia finally approached him.
‘We’re, uh, full. That was my last room.’
‘Sure it was,’ Ophelia replied, keeping her voice level. ‘Did the Darksuns pay you to say that, or did they just tell you what they think I did?’
‘We’re full.’
‘My money is as good…’
‘I’m sorry, but there are simply no more rooms.’
Ceri stepped forward and the innkeeper turned his head to look at her. He took a step back and Ceri knew her eyes were doing whatever weird thing they had started doing. Her voice, when she spoke, was low. ‘You’ll give us a room, away from the others, with a bathroom, and you’ll smile while you’re doing it. Or…’ The sphere on the head of her staff began to glow.
The innkeeper swallowed convulsively. ‘Room sixteen. Upstairs. It’s at the other end of the building from their rooms.’
Ceri smiled. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Turning on her heel, she headed for the stairs at the back of the taproom.
Ophelia hurried after her. ‘If we get out of this alive, would you consider a job with the Silvershields? We could really use you in some negotiations.’
Ceri laughed. ‘I have enough jobs as it is.’
The room was not especially large, but it had a decent sized bed and enough room on the floor for a bedroll to be laid out for one of them. There was a small bathroom off it, which had a mirror on the wall. Ceri looked herself in the polished metal surface; her eyes looked just as they usually did, a bright blue, certainly, but nothing particularly special. Lily had said it happened when she was angry and the anger had gone. She went to the bath and turned on the water.
Thaumatology 11 - For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll Page 7
