They assented to each other first, with a look, then fell in just behind her as she began to follow some path of her own through the trees. “Don’t you like j… him then?” Lila asked. She wanted to defer the decision process as long as possible, and to find out if she could somehow get her hands on Malachi’s doll.
Gulfoyle bent her head over the doll, muttering, then upped her volume until Lila and Zal could hear. “It’s not for the slave to speak of the master,” she said, and glanced coyly sideways at Lila. “Do you know how many turns we have taken around?”
Lila shook her head. “Around where?”
“Around the year,” Gulfoyle said. “Turn and turn again but always come back to the same still point which will not budge. Even been round backwards, to check, like the screw in its path, but unlike the screw we turn and we turn but we don’t get down. Winter to spring to summer to autumn. Ten and ten again thousand turns. Stuck. All of us. Stuck with each other and the round.” Her voice varied as she spoke, sometimes almost laughing, then abruptly bitter and full of anger. “At least you’re not his. Else I wouldn’t have spoke to you. You’d have died and been my trees, like the others he sends forwards to taunt me.” She pointed to the side and they both saw a twisted trunk with a face, warped and tormented, caught within it, part of the wood.
“Mistress!” it whispered as she passed it. “Please let me out. I done nothing!” But she ignored it completely and trod on. Soon they had left it behind but by then there were others near them. Their voices were much spoiled by becoming wooden. Their pleading sounded like knocking, or the sighing of the wind. Gulfoyle paid no attention to them.
“Can I see my messenger?” Zal asked her, moving to place himself between her and Lila.
“Maybe,” she said. “If you promise to give him back.”
“I will,” he said.
She handed him the grass doll and quickly stepped sideways, stifling a yawn. She shook herself and gave him a speculative look, darting a gaze at Lila, checking their reactions to each other.
Lila didn’t care for the sizing up. She leaned into Zal and heard the doll whisper, its voice all but completely nullified by Zal’s andalune body which reached out to smother it, touching Lila’s face at the same time in the softest of caresses.
“Malachi says the only one you can trust is the woman on the wolf. He’ll look for you at the Twisting Stones.”
“Can you go back to him?”
“No. Stuck now. Like you all. Stuck in the turns. Don’t give me back that witch. She’n use me.”
“If I don’t you owe me,” Zal said.
“You drowned me last time!” the doll said.
Lila frowned, not understanding.
“And this time I’ll undo you, but those are your choices.”
The doll grumbled but gave a nod. “Next time, elf, you…”
But Zal’s quick fingers had already loosened its clever twist. “Oh!” he said, faking surprise convincingly. He showed the grass to Gulfoyle’s disappointed face. “Made to fall apart. Shoddy work.”
“Your friend, the sender, warns you against us all, no doubt,” she said, striding ever onward at the same pace, her twig hair shifting as though it was soft and disgorging a small grey owl that flew back the way they had come.
“Thank you for your stories,” Zal said, “but unless you have more business we are done and will say goodbye.” He stopped walking. “I guess you are signalling to those who follow.”
“But I have not told you everything,” the faery said, coming to a halt and turning back halfway. The wind stopped and the forest fell quiet. Lila couldn’t help feeling that it was an ominous change.
“We aren’t a curious bunch,” Zal said lazily. “And we have to go somewhere.”
Gulfoyle hesitated and her demeanour changed from haughty to slightly piqued. “I have not had a visitor of any kind in fifteen thousand years,” she said, musingly. “And here you are, killing my jacks with iron and tricking me out of trinkets. I offer you nothing but kindness, and you spurn me. That is cold, elf. That is right cold.”
“Your borrowed crows mean nothing to you,” Zal replied easily. “And your age—old quarrel means nothing to me. A doll is a curse waiting, as you well know. We end as we began, curious and nothing else. Unless you wish to ask a favour?”
Tath circled uncomfortably. He was thrumming with attention. This is an ancient bairganing dance, he said, and didn’t like it at all. I hope Zal knows the tune.
Lila narrowed her eyes and listened. She kept silent and still, watching Zal’s confidence with pleasure. She knew moments like this were always dangerous and nobody would show their true feelings but she liked to see him work. She just liked to see him.
The faery laughed, a surprisingly merry sound and inclined her chin, turning to her best angle. “What favour have you to offer?”
“I’d guess Jack is one of the Huntsmen.”
“Nay, Giantkiller is the Lord of this place,” Gulfoyle assented. “The Huntsman is close by his heel always. It is the Huntsman’s pain to be locked in the round with such a master, but master Jack is.”
“And you in his debt also or else why walk before him?”
“The debt is his, elf, make no mistake. This land is mine. He treads it by force. Had I the means to stop him I would take them,” she said so quietly it was hard to hear her. At this speech even the drops of water falling from the leafless trees stopped in midair and hung there. “But his city is full of his allies and I am alone. He nears. Hurry if you wish to speak unheard.”
“We have come to free the Master of the Hunt,” Zal said.
Inside Lila’s chest Tath became poised and still. To muc/
The faery peered at him and without apparently moving was suddenly as close to both of them as she could come, and just as far away as she had to be without falling unconscious—a few feet. “But how? The Master is with all the other fell things below. Jack has spent the long ages of men searching for a way down and found nothing. Aye and we have helped him in the hopes of freedom and got nowhere. I would be glad to aid you but it is a fool’s game. You will fail and Jack will hunt you and eat you.”
“Can you help us?”
“Yes,” she said. “I will give you this advice. When you leave me you will see a peak divided in two as if split by a bolt from heaven. The stones of which your doll spoke lie at its foot. The path there turns every other direction but you must not leave it or you’ll never reach the place you seek. That’s all I’ll do. And when the time comes for Jack to hunt you down, I’ll let him, for I’ll not cross him again.” She drew back, her face deeply troubled. She looked at Lila and her gaze flickered over the T-shirt again.
Tath? Lila whispered, seeing Zal frowning and disappointed.
He said too much. She didn’t need to bargain any more. She had what she wanted—which was to know your true purpose. He would have had to trick her into saying more but she does not have to, and she doesn’t think you are strong enough to be of use to her.
“Keep your joke close, lady. Keep your iron ready. Pray for your friends, that they not meet Jack’s wolves, nor you either. I would say more, but you lied to me so you must chance your wits against the rest. Maybe I’ll change my mind later and you can choose what kind of tree you’d prefer to be.”
At least she is wary enough to leave us for the time being.
With that the wind started again, a cold spatter of water hit Lila’s cheek, making her start and blink, and when she brushed herself dry and looked about her the wood had gone and they stood at the foot of a hill in unmarked snow, a moon just starting to rise behind them and no sign of life in any direction. Against the span of the stars the broken peak showed clearly, like a black cutout. Beneath their feet a path of sorts was visible, marked by the smoothness of the snow that lay on it compared to the rougher shapes of the surroundings.
Zal shivered and shook his head. “I misjudged this. She is much stronger than I thought. I couldn’t deceive her. W
e are far inside. I was never that adept at magic, unlike many of the other elves. Unlike…” he glanced at her and then down at her chest. “I don’t know that much about these levels but I think it may be best if you let Ilya do the walking and talking. One cheap shirt isn’t going to hold them all off and I have a feeling that any of them down here will know what you carry on sight, though it’s interesting they have no sense of it even close at hand.” His face, white and grey in the moonlight, was full of misgivings. “And I hesitate to recommend it because the levels of aether here… everything has consequences, and I can’t see them.” He radiated discomfort. Lila could see his andalune body glowing, illuminated and full of points of light, as if it was a mirror for the sky above them. It shifted restlessly.
“Aether here is dark,” Thingamajig asserted, hunching down on Lila’s shoulder. “Turned with the light. That’s old work. Twists things about. I’ve been here before. You should be more at ease with it, shadow, but you’ve burned too long in demonfire, lost your edge.”
“Mmn,” Zal said uncertainly. “Perhaps. It doesn’t taste like Alfheim’s dark or shade though. Has a life of its own here. A kind of will. The same one that brought that,” he pointed to where the necklace hung on Lila’s chest, just where the armoured bodice began. “Feels like giving it a way in, and I don’t let anything in. Don’t advise anyone to. Don’t even want to talk here. Everything wants to turn.”
“Heark at him lie his head off,” the imp snorted. “One fire elemental and he’s anyone’s, and he has the nerve to talk about purity.”
“Whatever,” Lila said. “We’ll carry on like this for now. I trust him.”
Inside her chest Tath was quiet. She forgot about him a lot recently. It was like he was her, almost. His feelings her feelings. She was so used to him. She wasn’t even able to feel the same level of discomfort about it that she had.
She saw Zal watching her, waiting for her to speak or move.
“Let’s go,” she said, unwilling to talk about Tath. As they turned to take the path side by side the imp leapt ahead of them, igniting himself a little more to show the way. She looked at Zal’s stern face, flickering with grey and blue shadows, and felt a barrier between them. Sorcha was part of it. Maybe a part they wouldn’t be getting rid of soon. But there was more to it, and here some more had been added, strange and undefined, another layer of bricks made up of his hesitation and this place and her silence. She saw it so clearly but she had no idea what to do about it. Maybe with dawn it would lessen. For the time being, they walked the path.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Malachi met the others on the beach. It was dark, but there was light from the nearby houses and paths. The tide was out and to their right, some distance away, people were out with torches, digging for clams and other things. They stayed together, in case of moths, though it was rare to see one near any large body of water, especially the ocean. In the darkness the figures of the demon and the three other fey looked deceptively ordinary, and, in the case of the two girls from Zal’s band, oddly glamorous. As usual they were dressed to party. The taller one, Viridia, was the more aloof, but she clung to Poppy’s shoulder as she rushed up to Malachi and said, “Oh, is it Zal? What’s the matter? This demon won’t tell us anything.”
“We need you to take us into Faery,” Malachi said, measuring his words carefully.
“But you can do that,” Viridia replied, adjusting her sarong against the warm night breeze.
“I can only walk another into the upper regions,” Malachi said.
“You want to go deep,” Poppy said with dismay. “That’s easy enough I guess. But what’re you doing down there?” She shuddered at the notion.
“Are you afraid?” Teazle asked her, his arms folded, clearly contemptuous of so much being made of something so trivial.
“No. Not exactly,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “Only, some places aren’t as easy to get out of as they are to get into and the further down you get the more… fundamental… everything becomes. Some of us don’t enjoy the fundaments, you know. We’re more civilised beings these days.”
“Not what I hear,” Teazle said. His deep voice broke through the soft rush of waves and the girls’ voices and made them frown as their slight charms failed to persuade. “We are wasting time.”
Poppy wasn’t so easily discouraged. She turned to him completely and flirted, “You’re very handsome, for a demon.”
“You’re commonly backhanded, for a faery,” he replied. “Of my true form you’d speak less prettily. And if you don’t do as our mutual friend here asks then shortly you will be closer acquainted with it than you’d like.” His tone was as silvery as theirs, almost a perfect match. He smiled coldly.
Poppy stood with her mouth slightly ajar.
“Been too long with silly humans,” Viridia muttered. “Time we got down to some business other than breaking hearts and playing cards.”
“It’s that necklace, isn’t it?” Poppy said, turning and poking Viridia sharply in the ribs. “You had to go and pick it up, give it to her.”
“Don’t blame me!” Viridia snapped, poking back just as hard with a scowl. “You saw it first. It was your idea.”
“Ladies,” Nixas said gently, stepping forwards between the two of them, his grey and silver hair tipped with black like a strange fox pelt in the moonlight. He was as prettily handsome and charming as they were beautiful. He took an arm of each. “Let’s not argue about what’s past. You did your best to avoid disaster but the key is an artefact that has a way of doing what it will. There can’t be blame. The question now is, will you answer its call? After all, it chose you, of all of faery, to bring it back into play. What a pity to waste the chance of a lifetime to take a part in great events when the very meat of our beings demands you take your part.”
Malachi grinned inwardly, though he didn’t let it show on his face. Nix had charm to burn. It worked even on experts like Poppy and Viridia; and he thanked the gods he hadn’t had to make that speech since, coming from him, it would have had less the ring of greatness than despair. Tricky wording was never his suit. He caught Teazle’s eye and saw the demon thinking the same thing.
Poppy simpered for a moment and then turned her head indulgently towards Malachi. “So, where are they?”
“Umeval,” he said.
“Aieeee!” Poppy slammed both hands over her delicate ears and squealed a long squeal of agony. She looked around at them as they shook their heads and scowled at her. Far off dogs began barking and cats yowled in reply. “The still point!” She looked pointedly at Teazle. “He can’t know about it. I bet Zal doesn’t know. Do they? They don’t know about it. No way out and Jack hunting endlessly. We can’t go there and become slaves in his caravan! We can’t! No way!”
“Pop,” Viridia said sharply. “Lila has the key.”
“And Jack wants the key!” Poppy said. “He’ll kill anyone who tries to keep it from him. He’s completely insane! We can’t be anywhere near it! It was madness to take it there. One sniff of it and he’ll tear them to pieces. Malachi, what were you thinking?”
“I think that what Viridia meant is that Lila has the way out,” Teazle said with slow deliberation and mimicry.
Poppy blinked. Then, after a moment she said sulkily, ” I don’t like going under. I like it here, where I’m good. Fun, anyway.” But she sniffed a deep breath of the sea and sounded doubtful. “I don’t want to die.”
“If you don’t take us now then Zal and Lila will both die,” Malachi said.
“And you as well,” Teazle promised faithfully, flexing one of his hands as though it was stiff, and showing that he had claws. His face was completely deadpan.
“You don’t have to terrorise us,” Poppy said quietly. “We were going to say yes.” A spark of defiance shone in her gaze. “And you’ll like us less shortly.”
“I’ll risk it,” Teazle said.
Malachi took the stone that he’d just stolen from the museum out of hi
s pocket and handed it to Viridia. “Here’s the marker.”
She turned it over, put it to her mouth, and licked it, then handed it to Poppy who did the same. “All right.” She took a deep breath and shuddered, then began to strip out of her sarong and bikini, kicking her sandals aside. “Pop, you can take Malachi and Nix. I’ll have the demon.”
“Thanks,” Malachi said, almost sick with relief. “I wouldn’t ask if any of us had the speed…”
“Yeah, whatever,” Poppy said, taking her clothes off and looking at them on the sand where she dropped them with a pout. “Bye bye pretty designer thingies,” she said and took Viridia’s outstretched hand. They walked out towards the water, and the others followed closely. As they reached the surf the two girls let go of their hands and moved apart and then, as Malachi watched, in a few strides they had changed, as if they were made of nothing more substantial than the softest light and shade.
The two horses turned back, their manes and tails as long and thick as princesses’ hair, tangled with seaweed. Only a glance at their legs showed that instead of hooves they had strange thick webbed feet, and where feathers of hair would have been on a knight’s charger, fins.
Poppy tossed her head impatiently and pranced on the spot. She waited as Malachi jumped easily up to her back and put his hand down to pull Nixas up behind him. Teazle raised his white brows but seized hold of Viridia’s mane and kicked himself up onto her back as though he’d spent his life as a circus rider. He was much more startled when the hair of her mane swiftly slithered up his arms and tangled him fast and close to her neck. She snorted in horse laughter and without warning wheeled around towards the ocean, powerful muscles bunching and pushing them into a headlong gallop straight at the waves.
Malachi thought it would be unpleasant. He was right.
Poppy smashed headlong into the breakers, swimming with more power than any ordinary horse could have dreamed of, and the water welcomed her, breaking easily over and around her. It was damned cold to Malachi’s skin as it soaked him quickly. He felt Nixas’s grip to his waist hard as they plunged out of their depth and the water rose to their necks, slapping against open mouths and screwed-shut eyes. Then they were under and diving, down and down, much further than the shelf of the continent would ever have allowed, and they could feel the water mixing—the cold, salt ocean and a darker, colder, and more bitter water that was not fresh but not salt either. Their breath began to burn in their chests and pressure began to crush their ears. Above the humming of his blood Malachi could hear the distant sound of basso profundo voices chanting an ancient lay, so old that the words themselves turned them around in the waters and made the water pull them further beneath as if the water were made of sound and the sound knew what it was doing. Behind his closed eyelids he saw sparks. His body started to scream for air and he felt the distinctive lightening of Poppy beginning to shift. He went with her gladly into the strange grey uncertainty of the void, where at last the water became what it wanted to be all along—aetherand they were dragged in its stream according to the kelpies’ song. Around his wrists Poppy’s hair stayed fast. He listened for any trace of ghosts or the hunters but the song was wild and dragging him away. At least, he thought, at least the kelpies are old enough to be able to reach this region easily whereas he hadn’t been there in so long he’d forgotten nearly everything about it. Briefly he wondered what would become of him there, but it was too late to worry about it.
Going Under Page 22
