by Doty, J. L.
Anogh backed away, and Paul got some satisfaction from seeing dread written plainly on his face. When he spoke, he spoke fearfully and barely above a whisper, “No, Young Mage, you will be my salvation.”
“Paul,” McGowan snarled in his ear. “You’re holding enough power to blow us all to hell and back. Let it go, son. Let it go.”
Paul allowed the power to dissipate, to drain away slowly, to trickle off into the trees and bushes and weeds and flowers, into the stream, into the earth itself.
Colleen took him by the arm. “You’re staying with me for the rest of this journey. You’ve not been coached in earth magic, so until you’re properly trained you should not draw such power again.”
Paul said, “I’m going to have to kill him.”
“You can’t. Anogh’s immortal.”
Somehow, Paul thought he might know how to kill a Sidhe immortal, though he couldn’t recall the details necessary to do so, just bits and pieces.
The Winter Knight, in his magnificent hereditary armor, crossed the stream. Introductions were made, and when Paul’s turn came he met the Winter Knight’s eyes again, cruel, knowing eyes.
The rest of the journey passed in a blur for Paul. Colleen insisted on riding with him, sent Sinthas to ride in the Coach with Magreth. Paul tried to think of something other than killing Anogh, but he couldn’t rid his mind of that one thought.
~~~
“It was nothing, Your Majesty,” Simuth said smugly. “A trite display of power. He’s an animal, could never rival a Sidhe mage.”
Anogh held his peace. Simuth’s arrogance would never allow him to see the truth. Ag looked from Simuth to Anogh. “Speak, Summer Knight. And speak the truth. I command it.”
Anogh shrugged. “He drew enough power to easily rival that of a strong Sidhe mage.”
Simuth’s voice dripped with scorn, “You perceive him as strong only because that power was directed at you in anger. I do believe you fear him.”
Anogh nodded and grinned. “It is always healthy to fear a strong opponent. It is also healthy to fear a strong ally. Your lack of fear may someday be your undoing.”
Simuth scoffed at him. “I fear no mortal mage.”
“Enough squabbling,” Ag said angrily. He addressed Anogh, “So it is no longer possible to bind him?”
Anogh decided to remind them of his own circumstances. “Not with mere force, Your Majesty. But even the strongest of us can be fool enough to enter into an unwise oath, and be trapped into a binding from which there is no release.”
Ag didn’t miss Anogh’s veiled reference to his own circumstances. He smiled happily. “Of course, we must be subtle.”
“Might I make a suggestion?” Simuth asked hesitantly.
“Do so quickly,” Ag snapped.
Simuth spoke cautiously. “We still have the woman.”
Ag thought about Simuth’s words for a moment, then an unpleasant grin formed slowly on his face. “Yes, we still have the woman.”
~~~
Katherine knew her father had come to the Winter Court. The fact of his presence couldn’t be hidden from her, though whether he’d arrived as a prisoner in chains or an honored guest, she could not say. But he had come, that she knew.
She asked for an audience with Ag, was denied. In desperation, she asked for an audience with Simuth, and he granted her request. If he were true to character, he had granted her request only to torment her. Or perhaps the situation had changed drastically, and Ag had removed the prohibition of sexually assaulting her, so he could return to constantly raping her both in mind and body. She didn’t care. Her father had come, and she would risk any indignity to gain even the tiniest spark of information. But then another realization touched her, something she would never have guessed would penetrate the cloud of uncertainty cast upon her by the Unseelie Court. She sensed that Paul too had come, and for some reason that gave her even more hope than the presence of her father.
When they finally admitted her to Simuth’s presence, he sat upon his little throne. He had created it in his own private apartments, where Ag would never condescend to come, for should he ever see Simuth’s little throne, the punishment would be beyond imagining.
Katherine dropped to both knees before Simuth, bowed so deeply she touched her forehead to the floor. “Your Highness.”
“And what would you have of me, mortal animal?”
She kept her forehead pressed to the floor. Simuth was such a transparent idiot that anyone could manipulate him. “Now that the Old Wizard and the young mage have come to the Unseelie Court, I thought you might wish to consult me.”
A chill passed over the room. “How do you know they’re here?” he growled.
She lifted her forehead off the marble floor and met his eyes. “I didn’t,” she lied. “Not until you spoke.”
He raped her repeatedly that night, raped her body without beguiling her so she felt no physical pleasure from the act, only disgust and horror. Raped her mind by beguiling her, making her desire to commit acts she only wanted to forget. But through it all she understood two things: first, her father and Paul had not come in chains, but had come in strength and power; and second, Ag had not lifted his prohibitions, so Simuth would pay dearly for his follies with her body and her mind.
That night she laughed at him while he raped her, laughed and spit in his face.
~~~
Ag did not receive them officially at the Winter Court, certainly not in the grand style Magreth had chosen. When presented to him, it was with him seated upon his throne in the grand throne room of the Unseelie Court, with only a few dozen courtiers present. It reminded Paul of the massive wooden doors to the Seelie throne room, and how the carved figures of the Seelie emitted an aura of kindness and compassion, while those of the Unseelie radiated cruelty and malice. He met the eyes of at least a dozen Unseelie courtiers, and they all shown with what seemed almost obsessive malevolence, overlaid by lascivious desire. Colleen had warned him that in Faerie he would be sensitive to the aura of Sidhe desires, and only now did he understand what she’d meant.
The throne room was not unlike that of the Seelie Court: large and spacious, the throne resting upon a dais at the end of the room, situated so that to face the king, one must cross the entire span of the hall. Magreth led the small group as they faced Ag, surrounded by Dergindaal and a dozen of his warriors.
When Magreth stopped about thirty feet from the dais, Paul realized that by keeping her distance, she minimized the effect of the dais, minimized Ag’s ability to loom over them in the position of power. She did not curtsy, merely bowed her head, one sovereign to another. “My dear Ag, it has been long since we last met.”
The cruelty and brutality that shown from the Winter King’s eyes made that of the Winter Knight pale in comparison. “Magreth,” Ag said, and Paul felt a chill in the air. “My dear Magreth, as always your beauty outshines my most gracious courtier. But I must confess I am disappointed in the company you keep.” Ag looked at the mortals behind her, let his eyes rest for a moment on each, allowed them to see the open contempt in his face.
Magreth smiled. “These are my dear friends, Your Majesty, and during their sojourn here in Faerie, they journey under the sovereign protection of the Seelie Court, and now, by the word of your representative, also under that of the Unseelie Court. Surely, the hospitality of the Unseelie Court is not so meager as to deny them your courtesy.”
Ag smiled a cold and cruel smile. “Of course, Magreth. You shame me, that I must have you remind me of my responsibilities. They will be granted every courtesy of this Court. But first, please introduce them.”
Everyone but Paul was introduced with something like, . . . and of course, you know so-and-so . . . She saved Paul for last. “And here, Your Majesty,” she said, indicating Paul should step forward, “is a young mage new to Faerie and the Courts. May I present Paul Conklin?”
Paul bowed at the waist as he’d been taught, waited for Ag to speak first. “Mr. Conkli
n, a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.” Paul met Ag’s eyes, and neither of them tried to hide the true displeasure they felt.
“I’m told, Young Mage, you recently suffered a grave injury at the hands of some rogue Sidhe warriors.”
So that was how they’d play this, rogues of which Ag would deny all knowledge. Paul decided to take a chance. “It was nothing, Your Majesty. They were easily dispatched.” Paul didn’t say it, but all present new he meant, because they were mere Unseelie.
Paul had struck home. Ag’s eyes flashed with anger, and frost formed in Paul’s hair and on his shoulders. Paul pulled some power, warmed himself and the frost dissipated. Colleen, standing to one side, gave him a look that said, Don’t push it, boy-oh.
Paul decided to withdraw politely. “But, Your Majesty, I stand in awe of the magnificence and power of the Unseelie Court.” Colleen smiled.
“Well then, Young Mage,” Ag said magnanimously. “Let us adjourn. We shall dine together tonight, all of us, and you can sample the pleasures of the Unseelie Court.”
Chapter 22: The Truth of the Beast
The banquet seemed almost medieval in character and style. Where Magreth had preferred small, informal gatherings, Ag had turned out the entire circus. The floor of the banquet room had three levels. The highest tier held only one table, at which Ag, Magreth, McGowan, Colleen, Jim’Jiminie and Boo’Diddle sat, along with one of Ag’s concubines, all seated on one side of the table and facing the two lower tiers. Jim’Jiminie and Boo’Diddle couldn’t remain seated or still for more than a few minutes at a time,
Anogh escorted Paul to a table on the second tier, and they were the first to arrive there. On the lowest tier long banquet tables ran down either side of the room, leaving a large open space in the center of the floor.
Alone with Anogh at their table, waiting for the festivities to begin, Paul said, “So, Summers, it’s been a long time. Summers Knight, wasn’t it?”
One of Anogh’s eyebrows lifted. “You remember. I’m surprised you were able to lift the veil of my glamour.”
“I had some help. What were you doing in my life back then?”
Anogh shook his head. “The two of us meeting, becoming casual acquaintances, merely coincidence. It was a lark, to live as a mortal briefly.”
Paul didn’t believe a word he said, but before he could press the issue further, Simuth arrived with a beautiful woman on his arm. She reminded Paul a bit of Suzanna, but where Suzanna had disdained opulence for simple good looks, this woman wore rich silks and velvet brocade, long hair piled elaborately on her head. Paul and Anogh stood.
Simuth looked to the woman on his arm. “Nezmodie, I’d like you to meet the young mage, of which I’m sure you’ve heard.” He looked at Paul. “My sister, Nezmodie.”
Paul bowed carefully. She extended her hand and he kissed it. “I’m honored,” he said.
Simuth turned to Anogh. “I think you were right, Sir Knight.” He turned to Nezmodie. “It was our dear Anogh, here, who suggested I bring you tonight so you might meet the young mage. And I now see what an excellent idea that was.”
Nezmodie and Simuth sat on one side of the table, facing Paul and Anogh on the other.
The banquet was a bawdy affair. They didn’t serve individual plates of food. Instead, servants placed large platters of steaming dishes in the center of the table from which they all helped themselves. The cleared space in the center of the third tier filled with entertainers, jugglers, mimes, singers, dancers, with a small string orchestra playing soft music in the background.
Paul ate sparingly, didn’t have the appetite for more. He also learned to pace himself with the wine, since after every sip or two, a servant stepped forward to top off his glass.
Simuth was actually a bit charming, though always arrogant. Nezmodie kept sneaking glances at Paul, and each time her eyes narrowed in careful thought. He finally asked her, “Lady Nezmodie, is there something I can do for you?”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, Young Mage. You must think me rude. It’s just that . . . there is . . . something familiar about you.”
“I’m sure we’ve never met before,” Paul said. “Believe me; I would not forget you so easily.”
She smiled at him warmly. “You are kind, Young Mage. But, I agree, we have never met. But there is something vaguely familiar in your aura, something I can’t place.”
They continued eating and drinking and chatting politely. It drove Paul nuts. He wanted to immediately dive into the subject of Katherine’s captivity, to negotiate her release, to do something. But Colleen and McGowan had warned him certain protocols must be followed, so he’d have to be patient.
After Paul finished eating he listened to Simuth expounding on some feat. Simuth waved his hand expansively, and as he did so Paul noticed a glint from one of the rings on his fingers. When Simuth put his hand on the table and held it still for a moment, Paul got a good look at the ring. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he swallowed several times to keep from vomiting his dinner right onto the table. He knew that ring.
“Young Mage, are you ill?” Nezmodie’s voice brought Paul back to the moment.
“No,” he lied. “Perhaps a bit too much wine. That’s all.” He carefully focused his attention on Simuth. “Sir Knight, that’s an interesting ring you wear.”
There couldn’t be two like it in the universe, a small, antique silver ring, with four little diamond studs alternating with four small ruby studs, all arrayed in a circle, and set in a baroque setting that made it truly unique. That ring, or one like it, had been the only possession Suzanna had ever had from her unknown family, and because of that she had valued it greatly. She hadn’t been wearing it at the time of her death, and afterwards Paul had searched every inch of their apartment to find it, in vein it turned out.
“Oh this little bauble,” Simuth said, holding up the ring and wiggling his finger. Paul noticed Nezmodie stiffen angrily. “It’s a family heirloom, not worth much, but it’s been in the family for centuries.” He looked at Nezmodie, and all color drained from her face. “Though it did have a brief sojourn outside the family recently, but I corrected that.”
Nezmodie literally shook with anger. “You murdered her,” she whispered.
“Murder?” Simuth asked, and any sense he could be charming disappeared, replaced by the cruel and brutal Winter Knight. “When is it murder to exterminate an abomination?”
Simuth turned to Paul. “My sister chose to bed an animal, and from her womb she bore a half-animal abomination.”
Nezmodie snarled at him. “He was no animal. He was a mortal man, kind and loving, and you murdered him too.”
Simuth shrugged at her coldly. “Mortal, animal, what’s the difference.”
Paul’s hands trembled more at each word, so he put them in his lap to hide them. Simuth turned back to him, clearly warming up to his story. “She tried to hide her spawn in the Mortal Plane. Took me years to find the little beast.”
Nezmodie growled, “She was no beast. She was my child.”
Paul felt rage climbing up from his gut, but he managed to control his voice as he asked, “And what did you do then?”
Simuth laughed. “I made the little beast pleasure me for a few days. Then I helped her commit suicide.”
“She didn’t commit suicide, you animal,” Nezmodie shouted. “You as much as murdered her with your beguilement.”
Paul wanted to climb up over the table, wrap his hands around Simuth’s throat and wipe that smug smile from his face. Anogh, sitting next to him, clamped a hand on his wrist, whispered in his ear, “Not now, Young Mage.”
Then Anogh turned to Simuth and spoke casually. “Nezmodie’s child bore a child of her own, did she not?”
Simuth laughed. “Yes, the spawn of the spawn. Didn’t know it at the time, went back later and took care of the whelp myself.”
Paul’s world narrowed to one thought. Everyone’s attention had fo
cused on Nezmodie shouting at Simuth. Paul had brought the knife in the underarm sheath, though that broke the terms of their parole in the Unseelie Court. He could pull it, lunge across the table, possibly bury it in Simuth’s eye before they stopped him.
Paul didn’t know Colleen was standing behind him until she put her hands on his shoulders. “Paul,” she whispered in his ear. “You mustn’t do anything rash.”
“She’s right, Young Mage,” Anogh whispered in the other ear. “Now is not the time for a reckoning.”
Colleen spoke up so others could hear her. “I believe the young mage is ill.”
“Yes,” Anogh said, standing, pulling Paul to his feet. “Possibly a bit too much wine.”
Colleen lied, “I believe it’s more his recent injuries we must be concerned with. Will you help me get him back to his chambers without incident, Sir Knight?”
“Of course, Lady Armaugh.”
Anogh held Paul’s arm in a vice-like grip as they escorted him back to his chambers. Paul didn’t resist, let them lead him back to his room, recalling all the way Anogh’s words: . . . you will know the truth of it.
At the door to his chambers he stopped and met Anogh’s eyes. “You knew all along. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Anogh shrugged. “Would you have believed me?”
“No. Probably not.”
“But now you’ve heard the truth from the lips of the beast himself.”
. . . you will know the truth of it. “Thank you,” Paul said.
~~~
Until that day Paul had never, in fact, understood the words blind rage, not in his gut, not the way he understood it now as a white-hot fury burning from within. He had only one desire in life, to hunt Simuth down and kill him. He ranted and raved in his room, shouted at McGowan, Colleen, Devoe and the leprechauns, all of whom ganged up on him, wouldn’t let him leave.
“You can’t kill Simuth,” Colleen shouted at him. “He’s immortal, you idiot.”
