by Tao Wong
What I did not expect was for it to be inside a comedy club. Getting in was easy. All I had to do was pay the very reasonable door charge. That I was getting in toward the last half of the show meant that the door person was willing to give me a discount too. Inside, I headed to the bar opposite the stage, eyeing the dimly lit, half-filled room. I wrinkled my nose slightly as the smell of stale popcorn and alcohol mixed with the raucous laughter.
I ordered a beer and leaned against the bar. So. This was the address. And I assumed if I flashed the invitation, I’d have been led where I needed to go. But without it, I needed to work out by myself where I had to go. As I chuckled appreciatively at a joke about a chicken, a boat, and a college party, I let my Mana Sight activate.
It was always in play, to some extent. A Mage’s ability to cut through most glamours, to sense Mana was always on. But there was a difference between looking and seeing—a shift of perception and attention. I stopped just looking and actually saw, letting the swirl of ambient Mana register in my consciousness. In short order, I chugged down half of the bottle, fortifying myself with some alcoholic courage, and headed for the washroom.
Pity I’d miss the rest of the act. But needs must when the fae called.
I made it most of the way down the corridor, bypassing the washrooms and heading for the “employee only” entrance before I was caught. The bouncer seemed to materialize from nowhere, his seven-foot, linebacker body form drawing my attention only when he leaned forward and put a meaty paw in my way.
“Employees only,” he growled, his voice resounding in my chest like a rising drumroll.
Now that he’d moved, I could see him properly for what he was—a troll. A fae troll, not the German ones which are called the same but are an entirely different species. These guys are big, big eared and nosed, with magic in their blood and the strength of the mountains in their bones. In other words, he could have squashed me if he’d grabbed me.
“I’m invited,” I said and held up a hand, letting a light spell form around my hand.
The troll watched my hand. “Mage Tsien.”
Statement more than question, but I nodded. The troll dropped his hand, letting me by, and I walked to the door. A push let me in, leading down a corridor that shimmered before my eyes. I squinted slightly, realizing that the split in the corridor was both illusionary and true—one a magical road for those who could make it and another, the mundane route for the norms.
I exhaled, shaking my head at the casual use of magic. At the fact that the road to Faery wasn’t a standing stone but an illusion in a comedy club. And because where I was going, I had never been before. As I stepped onto the road, a hand dropped onto my shoulder, forcing me to blink.
“Lily?” I gaped at my friend. “How…?”
“We are between and betwixt,” Lily said. “Some rules are relaxed. And we were both invited, were we not?”
I was surprised by her presence, knowing how little Lily liked leaving the house. Even after all these years—which for the immortal jinn was probably an eyeblink—it was still uncommon for the jinn to voluntarily leave our house. Yet as we strode along the twisting cobblestone road, mist rising to brush against our legs, I found myself comforted by her presence.
“You do remember your stories about the fae, don’t you?” Lily said, brushing dark hair back across her ears as she hunched in her favorite hoodie. It said “Let me show you true magic” with a book underneath.
“Yeah…” I scrambled through my memories. “They don’t speak untruth, but they can lie via leading statements. Their promises are binding—as are mine. No eating food or drink, or taking gifts. Or offering them, because that’ll create obligations.”
Lily made a face, then waved. “Mostly. The first one is a lie, and the others have… refinements. But I don’t have time to teach you court etiquette.”
“Nor could you,” I said, cocking my head.
Lily’s shoulders rose in a nonchalant shrug. Out of conversation topics for the moment, I eyed our misty surroundings, devoid of sound the way only a mist-filled land could be. Everything, even my own steps, was muffled, while my ability to see had dropped from tens of feet to a few feet.
As we continued onward, I noticed how the mist was slowly growing less dense, more and more of the world becoming clear. Trees in the distance firmed up, their brown barks deepening even as their leaves danced on subtle wind. They shimmered, and I squinted, slowing down as I tried to grasp their meaning.
“Ooof.” A hand grabbed mine and pulled my gaze away as Lily stumbled. I helped her regain her balance before she offered me a sheepish smile. “Loose stone.”
“Oh…” I looked at the smooth cobblestones beneath my feet and then at the guileless jinn, before drawing a deep breath and setting my mental defenses higher. Even the trees were a danger here.
Because Faery was not part of Earth. Once, perhaps it had been, but now, it was a different land entirely. Much like Avalon, it existed in a parallel dimension, one reachable via such faery roads and circles, but separate and untouchable. It was a magical land, and as I walked, I sensed my magical senses, my sight, shivering and waking. The light here was brighter, the Mana more intense, the smells more potent. It was like taking a half dozen shots of energy drinks at one go, the way it made my body wake. I found myself smiling, even as I reached for the calm that I’d learned to exist in to cast magic.
An awning rose up from the hill without warning, the portable court blocking the light from the—two!—suns while those within lounged, laughed, and ate. The fae that stood in the tents were tall, reminiscent of Tolkien’s elves but subtly different. Inhuman with sharp teeth and cunning eyes, while looking elegant and refined at the same time, clad in courtier clothing at least three centuries out of date. And in the center of the mobile court was a single chair where a woman lounged, clad not in courtier clothing but practical riding clothes. As I entered the tent, the group hushed.
For a moment, I froze, but subtle pressure on my arm that Lily had yet to release had me moving forward. I paused in front of the riding figure and bowed low. And then, catching Lily’s beckoning hand beside me, went lower.
“Rise, Mage Tsien. It’s a pleasure to see you too, Auntie.” Rhiannon’s voice was low, rough. Her accent was hard to place, her diction clear and distinct.
“Auntie?” I mouthed to Lily, who shushed me with her eyes and flicked her gaze back to the queen. Or god. Depending on who you asked.
“Thank you, Queen Rhiannon,” I said, deciding on the lesser status. After all, she wasn’t acting like a goddess to those present, but a queen at most. So I’d go with that. Also, it made my heart feel a lot better to deal with a supernatural fae queen rather than a goddess. “I received your kind invitation. Though—”
“You are wondering why I brought you here?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“We do not, normally, interact with the mortal world. Our time there has passed,” Rhiannon said, her eyes twinkling slightly. “But you attracted our attention when you made inquiries about one of our former citizens.”
“I did?” I blinked, then realization caught up. “The doppelganger.”
“The Changeling,” Rhiannon corrected gently but firmly.
“My apologies for the slip of tongue, Your Majesty,” I said. “But I had thought Changelings could only… well, is that not normal?”
“An aberration. Changelings take a single form, but this one altered,” one of the courtiers said, his hair the violent purple one only saw on Teletubbies and bad ‘80s cartoons. “A mutation caused by the pollutants in your world.”
“Iron?” I guessed.
“If only that were the only poison in your world.” The courtier sniffed and opened his mouth, his hand rising, body leaning forward as he worked up to an epic rant. Only to be shut down by a single walnut tossed at his head by Rhiannon.
“Hush. My aunt has no desire to hear you rant. Nor I.”
“My apologies, my queen.” The courtier bowed low.
Dismissing him, Rhiannon looked at me. “So. What do you seek from us?”
“Knowledge, if you will.” I mentally ran through what I needed. “Knowledge of who hired the Changeling would be gratefully accepted. If you have it. If not… I would not dare ask for more.”
“Polite, aren’t you?” Rhiannon’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Not like your last… three masters?”
“I believe you’re thinking of others. My second-last master was quite respectful. But I don’t think you met him,” Lily said softly.
“Oh, of course. I forget. You’ve had so many.”
My eyes narrowed at the barbed words, and I glared at the woman. Queen. Fae. Whatever. Bitch was better. But I kept my tongue in my mouth because Lily had warned me not to anger her, even as much as declining her invitation. Which Lily hadn’t said for the Mage Council.
“I know nothing of this Changeling’s activities. As I said, we have little to do with your world anymore. At least, not officially,” Rhiannon said. “Only a few things interest us these days.”
I stilled, wondering what she meant. But seeing that she had no information for me, I bowed again. “Thank you for your time then, Your Majesty.”
Rather than dismiss me, Rhiannon fixed Lily with a playful, indulgent smile. Like a cat staring at a struggling mouse. “Tell me, Aunt, have you told him who you are really?” At Lily’s silence, she turned to me. “Have you asked her?”
I shook my head before realizing I didn’t need to answer the damn woman.
When I opened my mouth to say that, she cut me off. “Of course not. Her masters are always in such a rush to use her powers, for their wishes, that they never ask what the price of those wishes are. Well, almost all of them.”
“I know the price, but Lily’s…”
Free? Even I could not say that word with a straight face. She had freedom, more than she’d had for many years, centuries, maybe ever since she was trapped in the ring. But she was not free. Content? Maybe. Though perhaps distracted was a better word. Distracted by games, my TV, by virtual reality and a million other things that kept her from thinking of, well, freedom.
For the first time, I considered how Lily might feel. Knowing that my death would send her to an abyss. Forever.
But even as I considered those words, Rhiannon spoke. “My aunt is not who you think she is. She was trapped not because she was too powerful, but for what she did. What she is.” Rhiannon leaned forward. “You see her as a friend. A confidant. Do not be fooled.”
“Rhiannon.” Lily’s voice was cold, angry.
The threat was clear, but Rhiannon ignored her. Ignored her because Lily was, in the end, powerless to do anything.
“You are quiet.” Rhiannon’s lips curled up, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good. You are listening. Then hear this, Mage. The one whose magic you use, whose knowledge you borrow? She is Lilith. Eldest of our kind. Mistress of magic, mother of monsters, the first rebel.”
“Oh, please!” Lily rolled her eyes. “Not those lies again.”
“Lies?” Rhiannon’s lips curled. “You are the one who formalized, who began the rituals of magic. Whose experiments created the first jinn from the very blood that flows through your veins. You destroyed towns and wiped out settlements because they angered you.”
“They tried to kill me!” Lily snapped.
“And they all deserved it?”
“Well…” Lily fell silent, shaking her head. “It was a long time ago. I was—”
“Powerful. A rival for the dragons themselves. And since then, you have grown only more powerful,” Rhiannon said, looking at my hand where the ring rested. “Trapped, perhaps, but each year, each decade, you grow in strength and knowledge. Refining your magic.”
“Now I’m being condemned for studying the only thing I can?” Lily said, clenching her fists. “Henry, I’m not—”
“You are. Lilith. And you’re friends with creatures from legends and have a goddess who calls you auntie,” I said, offering the jinn a half-smile. “I’m not dumb. I figured that one out a while ago.” As Lily’s jaw dropped, I turned back to Rhiannon and offered her a bow. “Thank you for your warning, Your Majesty. If that is all?”
Rhiannon’s lips tightened. The mouthy courtier stirred, looking at me predatorily but made no move. We stood there in silence as I waited for Rhiannon to dismiss me. Or attack me. Either or.
In the end, the bounds of tradition, of the fae’s word and their rules of hospitality, held. Rhiannon flicked her hand, sending me off, and I hurried away, only wiping my brow when I was out of sight. Perhaps she had considered killing me. Perhaps she had just intended to warn me. But I decided there and then never to return to Faery. Not without a lot more firepower anyway.
Beside me, a silent jinn walked. Until we stepped across the threshold and the ring’s bindings forced her to disappear once more. Leaving me in peace, but with doubts. For while I knew who she had been, the question of her fate rose once more.
As much as I liked Lily, there was a reason why she had been locked up. A reason why so many feared her. And a reason, in the end, for me to keep the ring to myself. Because at least I knew what I would do with it.
Chapter 10
There was blessed solitude when I walked to the light rail train twenty minutes away. The entire journey would take just over two hours, more than enough time to think. More than enough time to…
That was where my thoughts stuttered to a stop. Truth was, I was not sure what I was supposed to think. I had known who Lily was for a long time. Suspected that her imprisonment were for crimes. Even if Lily wasn’t exactly the Lilith from the Bible, it was likely much of her story was taken as inspiration. The same way the great flood might not mean the flooding of the world but a specific location. Of course, knowing that there are angels and faith magic had… well, let’s say that I am agnostic.
None of which was an answer to my problem—if it was a problem—or solved my concerns about Lily. Or the ring. Even if she was properly punished—and a couple thousand years of imprisonment and forced servitude seemed a tad harsh—I was not entirely sure there was any way for me to free her. A glance at the ring made me wince as I recalled the only time I’d ever looked at the ring properly. The most complex enchantment I’d ever done had been the wards on our house. It’d taken over three months, spaced between classes and jobs and was, in my view, as good as, if not better than, the enchantments on my staff. There were multiple levels to the house enchantment, from increasing the durability of the walls to blocking scrying, alerting me of scrying attempts that couldn’t be blocked, attack wards, and more.
Now, if one took the complexity of that ward, multiplied it by a thousand, stuffed it into the space of a single ring, you would get a glimpse of how complex the enchantment was. The fact that the ring was drawing power from an unknown source was even more frightening, since disrupting the enchantments themselves could have explosive consequences. Literally.
I swiped my card at the rail station and headed up the stairs. I was fortunate enough to get an empty car that pulled away moments after I got onboard. I found a side seat and pulled out my warding tablet to adjust and empower it. The modified Force Bubble sprung into existence, anchored around the ward and offering me some peace of mind.
“Damn fey,” I muttered, looking about the empty rail car.
I was seated parallel to the walls and the doors, the few horizontally aligned seats empty but unappetizing in their restriction. Perhaps it was the look in that fey’s eyes or perhaps it was the memory of being targeted, but I felt the need for space. For… freedom.
But that’s not something Lily would ever have. Not while I held the ring. Not while anyone held the ring. And yet, who was I to judge? While I was not entirely oblivious, I knew I was not the best at reading people. Someone, sometime, decided this was a just punishment. Someone—or someones—more powe
rful, more skilled than me.
Yet could any punishment that read “for all eternity” ever be just? What kind of action, what sin could justify a punishment that lasted forever? And if no crime could justify eternity, then had Lily suffered enough?
Was what she was going through punishment or containment? Was she trapped because she did something wrong or because we—they—feared her? Feared what she could do? We didn’t let nukes walk around unwatched. Why would people—jinn—be any different? Yet trapping her, punishing her…
Was it punishment for the crime or do we hope of redemption? In the belief that people would, could, change? Perhaps that was the question. Perhaps that was the answer, if it was a punishment. If we saw her enslavement as a punishment, then the question was is it just? But if we saw it as a way for her to redeem herself—eventually—then the question was, did I think she had changed? Do I think people could change?
My mind spun around in circles and whorls, forced to contort around my inconclusive thoughts. I couldn’t figure out an answer. Maybe because there was no right answer. It’s not a math problem where one plus one equaled two. It was a human problem, where one plus one might equal happily ever after or a gunshot to the foot.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the train pull to a stop or the new passengers. Didn’t see them even as the doors closed and trapped me with them. Didn’t notice the gun that came up and fired as the train pulled away from the station.
The bullet punched through the air, hitting the Force Bubble. The idea for the ward was stolen directly from a scifi series. Anything moving slowly—a clap on the shoulder, a gesture from my hands—only slowed and angled away slightly. But the higher the momentum of the motion, the faster something moved, the greater the force my ward applied to it. It was a useful ward to use while I was in public, since it was only mildly disconcerting for mundanes caught in its vicinity. Unfortunately, I’d yet to work out a stable formula for movement, so it was only useable when the ward center was still.