by E. E. Holmes
Marion’s face broke into a wide satisfied smile. “Oh, yes, High Priestess. It suits me very well, indeed.”
“It is settled, then,” Celeste said, a note of bitterness in her voice. “Kindly make the necessary arrangements to have your Caomhnóir return with your appeal, and then take your place in the assembly. We still have much to discuss.”
6
Gameplan
“SHE’S UP TO SOMETHING,” Hannah shrieked, flinging her Council notes down on the coffee table in frustration.
The Council meeting had dragged on for another hour after Marion’s dramatic entrance, leaving all of us to sit and stew in our fury until we were at last released to go and vent them. Though she had said little else, Marion had taken great pains to catch both my and Hannah’s eye, bestowing a wide, gloating smile upon each of us before returning to her favorite pastime of whispering amongst her little collection of minions, who seemed all too eager to latch themselves back onto her now that she had blackmailed her way back into relevance. Karen had just enough time after the meeting to take both Hannah and me aside and beg us to keep away from her.
“I don’t know what game she’s playing now, but I don’t want you two taking her bait, do you understand?” Karen said, in tones that suggested we were still scared teenagers rather than a Council member and a Tracker.
“Don’t worry, Karen, we have no desire to get entangled with her again,” Hannah assured her. “Just go take care of what you need to do with Grandfather. We’ll give Marion a wide berth until you get back.”
I just nodded. For once, Marion was the least of our troubles, but Karen didn’t need to know that at the moment. Now, back in our room, we sat huddled together, Milo, Flavia, Hannah, Kiernan, Finn, and I, all together again and free to speak for the first time since I’d awoken from the Rifting.
“Of course, she’s up to something,” Milo replied. “She’s still breathing, isn’t she?”
“More’s the pity,” Finn grumbled. The fact that he was actually related to Marion made the brazenness of her machinations even harder for him to swallow.
“What are we going to do about it?” Hannah asked, arms crossed.
“What can we do about it?” I countered. “She’s here, and Celeste is letting her stay. I think our best bet is just to try to stay out of her way.”
“I can’t believe Celeste caved to that kind of blackmail,” Hannah said, shaking her head in disgust. “I never would have expected that of her.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Finn quoted with a resigned shrug. “Celeste is under a lot of strain. Even the best of leaders can crack under the pressure. We just have to press on and hope that she can see clear to make the right decisions moving forward. We can’t do her job for her.”
“I don’t think the High Priestess underestimates Ms. Clark’s arrival,” Kiernan offered. “When I left to come up here, Seamus was already making arrangements—at Celeste’s explicit command—to arrange a security detail tasked with keeping Ms. Clark under surveillance at all times. She won’t be able to sneeze in this castle without the Caomhnóir alerting the leadership.”
“Let’s hope so,” Finn said, nodding his approval of this plan. “Though Marion can do more damage with a conversation than most people can with a weapon. She’s going to be trouble regardless.”
“Let’s try to focus, okay?” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “It feels strange to say it, but Marion is far from my biggest concern right now.”
“Right,” Finn said, stopping his pacing and rejoining me on the sofa. “I concur. Let’s decide what’s to be done next.”
Hannah gave a grudging nod and sank down onto the arm of the chair Kiernan was sitting in. He gestured for her to take the seat, but she waved him off.
“Flavia, do you want to fill everyone in on what you discovered in the library today?” I said, turning to her. Flavia cleared her throat and assumed her official librarian voice. As succinctly as she could, she recounted the story of the young Durupinen girl and the Geatgrima at Whispering Seraph. By the time she had finished, Hannah’s hands were pressed over her mouth in horror.
“That poor little girl,” Hannah whispered.
“So, this has happened before,” Finn said. “At least, it nearly happened before.”
“It sets a precedent for Durupinen being mysteriously drawn to a Geatgrima repeatedly and without the ability to resist it, yes,” Flavia confirmed. “And then, of course, Irina was drawn to the very same place several decades later.”
“Irina?” Kiernan asked, and Hannah launched at once into a whispered explanation of our experiences with the troubled Traveler Walker.
“Is that the only example you can find?” Milo asked.
Flavia nodded. “And I’m not the only one looking. The entire contingent of Northern Scribes will be sure to uncover it eventually. For now, I’ve kept the information to myself, just in case Jess needed it. I can’t guarantee someone else won’t stumble across it.”
“I think Savvy is one of the Sentinels that Agnes spoke of,” I said, voicing aloud, at last, my theory. “And I think that means there will be others.”
Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “Others?”
“There are Geatgrimas and Durupinen all over the world,” I said. “Sentinels. Plural. I think Savvy is just the first—or at least, just the first that we know of.”
“What does it mean?” Milo asked, his eyes wide and frightened.
“It means we don’t have any time to waste. I’ve got to start delivering the message Agnes gave to me,” I said.
“Who were they again? The people you’re supposed to tell, I mean?” Milo asked.
I counted them off on my fingers. “The High Priestess of the Traveler Clans. The Keeper of the Elementals. The High Priestess of the International High Council.”
“Did… do you think it matters who you tell first?” Flavia asked, grimacing as though she thought it might be a stupid question.
It didn’t sound like a stupid question to me. I considered it. “I’m not sure, but that’s the order she said them in, so maybe I ought to go to them in that order, just to be safe. But how the hell am I supposed to get into the Traveler camp?”
“What do you mean, how can you get into the Traveler camp?” Milo asked, laughing incredulously. “We’ve got Flavia, she can get you in.”
Flavia shook her head. “Not anymore,” she said, and though she smiled sadly, her voice had a definite tremor in it. “Once upon a time, perhaps, but now I’ve been properly banished. I would be able to find the camp, certainly—even if they’ve moved it in my absence, I know the patterns and signs to follow to the new location. But I can’t get us over the border to speak to anyone. In fact, my presence will almost certainly count as a strike against you before you’ve even stated your business.”
Hannah looked shocked. “You’re kidding! But… I thought blood meant more to the Travelers than anything.”
“And so it does,” Flavia said. “But I was the one who broke that bond of blood by choosing to walk away. For Travelers, there can be no greater betrayal. You’ll have to find another way in, I promise you.”
“And I’m even less welcome than you,” I said. “After what I did to free Irina, Ileana would probably arrest me the moment I set foot over the border, unless I have some kind of protection.”
“You’ll have me,” Finn said fiercely, squaring his shoulders.
“And me,” said Kiernan, sharing a nod of solidarity with Finn.
“While I appreciate this show of burly manhood, I meant Traveler protection. I’m not going to be able to secure an audience with Ileana on the merits of your brawn alone. I’m going to need Traveler blood on my side.”
“Oh sure, no problem, we’ll just borrow one of the dozens of Travelers walking around Fairhaven and ask them to help us,” Hannah said, a bit hysterically.
I didn’t reply. I’d just remembered something—something that might just solve our probl
em.
“What are you smirking at?” Hannah snapped, seeing the look on my face.
“Well, we might not have any other Traveler friends at Fairhaven, but we have got one a bit farther away, and I think it’s time to give her a call.”
§
I spotted Annabelle the moment I entered the crowded café. Her glorious mess of tawny curls marked her location like a neon sign. She looked up as I entered, and the smile on her face, while genuine, was a bit grim.
“Hi, Annabelle,” I said, as she stood to embrace me.
“We really must stop meeting like this,” she said as she planted a hasty kiss on my cheekbone. She pulled back to look at me. “Christ, you look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Did you order already?”
“I’m three cups in,” she said, gesturing to the half-drunk mug of tea. “I was able to catch an earlier flight, and I just couldn’t stand sitting around my hotel room, so I’ve been here since noon.”
“I’m sorry for all the secrecy. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Don’t apologize. Just sit. Coffee?”
“An espresso. Thanks,” I replied gratefully, sinking into the seat opposite. A light drizzle had started on my walk from the underground, and now the raindrops were running down the windows of the café like tear tracks. I watched the world beyond the glass grow blurry and dull, watched umbrellas bloom like flowers on the sidewalks as the drizzle gave way to a shower.
“Here you go,” Annabelle said, plunking my espresso in front of me and sliding back into her seat. She had chosen a tiny table crammed between the back wall and a crowded bookshelf—as secluded a spot as she could muster in public. “Did you want a sandwich or something? You’re so pale.”
“No, the coffee’s good for now, thanks,” I said, taking a long sip. It burned all the way down, but I didn’t mind. “Thank you for coming all this way. How are Iggy and Oscar and the rest of the team? How’s the shop doing?”
“Jess, everyone’s fine, but I didn’t fly across the ocean to shoot the shit with you,” Annabelle sighed, exasperated. “You said you needed my help, so here I am. What’s going on?”
I took another sip of my coffee and set it down in the saucer. “What do you know about Rifting?” I asked her.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh… a fair bit. Obviously, I was there when you Rifted in the Traveler camp, although I didn’t participate myself. And my grandmother used to tell me some pretty fantastical stories about when she and her cousins used to do it.”
“Well, I’ve got a Rifting story, too, and I doubt it’s one your grandmother told you,” I said. Then I took a deep breath and told her everything—about Savvy and the Geatgrima, about following the clue in the tapestry to the príosún, about the Tansy Hag and her cryptic warnings, and finally about what happened to me in the Rift. She did not interrupt me once, but her demeanor grew more and more tense until, when at last I’d told her everything, she might have been carved from stone.
“Annabelle?”
“Just… give me a moment,” Annabelle murmured, giving her head a shake. She picked up her cup of tea, long-cold, and drained it in a single gulp. She stared down into the empty china and sighed. “Damn it, I wish this was something stronger.”
I gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I probably should have had you meet me at a pub, huh?”
“Who else knows about this? Who else have you told?” Annabelle asked, still staring into the cup as though there might be some tea leaves swirling in the bottom that could help her make sense of the madness she’d just heard.
“Finn, Hannah, and Milo, obviously. Flavia, too—she’s at Fairhaven now. I don’t know if you heard, but she—”
“Yeah,” Annabelle said with a grimace. “I heard. Banishment is the kind of gossip everyone hears about, even the lowly Dormants. You haven’t told anyone else? No one in leadership?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s good,” she said, still staring into her cup like a crystal ball. “They’ll never believe it, and even if they do, they’ll never accept it. To the Durupinen, their gift is absolutely sacred. There will be outright mutiny if you tell them that gift is nothing but a lie.”
“You… you actually believe what I just told you?” I asked, incredulous.
Annabelle looked up from her cup for the first time and looked me square in the eye. “Of course, I do. You didn’t call me all the way to England to lie to me, did you?”
“Well, no, but still…”
“Rifting is a deep part of Traveler tradition, and it is understood that what you discover there is far truer than a dream—a sacred knowledge and understanding that cannot be achieved in any other way. If Agnes Isherwood was able to reach you there—however implausible that sounds—you have to heed her warning. Not to do so would be a betrayal of what the spirit world has trusted you with.”
“That’s… pretty much what Flavia told me after she got over her shock,” I said.
“So, what do you need from me?” Annabelle asked. “How can I possibly help?”
“I have to get into the Traveler camp,” I told her. “I need to get an audience with Ileana.”
Annabelle’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “But you’ve met with her before. Can’t you just request an audience?”
“Not likely,” I said with a sarcastic smile. “She knows I got Irina out.”
Annabelle gasped. “But… how could she possibly…”
“She never figured out how, but she knew that I thought their ruling was bullshit. Finn and I left the camp at the same time Irina went missing. She can put two and two together, even if she can’t prove it.”
“Does she know that Flavia and I…?”
I shook my head. “No. Like I said, she never figured out how we did it, and since no one knows that you’re a Walker, no one has any reason to think you could be somehow involved.”
Annabelle’s expression cleared, but only for a moment. “So, have you been banished, too?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “Without being able to prove I’d committed a crime against the Travelers, she couldn’t banish me. And anyway, to banish me would have been to admit that her iron fist had been overruled, and I don’t think her pride could take a public blow like that. But she found another way to exact her revenge. She found out that Finn and I were involved with each other, and she told Celeste. That’s why Finn was reassigned to the príosún last year.”
“I… you… oh!” Annabelle shook her head. “I had no idea you two were…”
“Yeah, well, apparently you were the only one who didn’t,” I said with a sardonic smile. “I’ve been told we were spectacularly shitty at hiding it.”
“You’re right then, you’ll never get over the border by yourself,” Annabelle said, biting her lip.
“But you’ve been back several times, haven’t you?” I pressed. “You’ve got connections there now, right? Family that you’ve reconnected with? If you came with me, vouched for me…”
Anabelle was already shaking her head. “I’m not sure that will matter. She will have told the Caomhnóir to deny your entrance. You may even be detained if you do somehow manage to get across.”
My heart sank. “You don’t think they’d let me through with you?”
Annabelle smiled sadly. “Jess, I’m a Dormant. I’m like the distant relative at a family reunion that everyone is polite to, but no one can quite remember how she’s even related to the family. They tolerate me because of the blood connection, but I’m not legitimate enough or important enough to get you over that border, let alone into a private audience with the High Priestess. We’re going to have to come up with a different plan.”
I slumped back in my seat, gazing back out at the rain, which had turned into a downpour. “You were my different plan,” I admitted with a sigh. “It’s starting to feel like the task Agnes set me is impossible.”
“That’s just about enough of that out of you, Ballard!” Annabelle
snapped, evoking, as she did so, a string of memories of our mutual friend David Pierce, who never failed to call me exclusively by my last name, and usually with the same impatient tone and a sprinkling of gratuitous profanity. “I didn’t fly all the way over here to watch you give up the moment you hit an obstacle. That’s not the Jess I know, and I refuse to accept any other sorry substitute. I want the real thing. I want the fire and the determination and the attitude that convinced me to hate you for the first six months I knew you!”
I blinked, and then looked quickly around to make sure she hadn’t attracted too much attention with her sudden outburst. “I… okay,” I muttered. “Can you please stop yelling at me now?”
Annabelle narrowed her eyes but deigned to lower her voice. “Look, what I’m saying is, nothing about this situation is logical or rational, and I think the way forward is going to follow suit. Take a page out of Agnes’ book. She needed to get this message to you, which should have been completely impossible, and damn it, she actually did it. I have a feeling you’re also going to have to think outside the box—test the limits of what’s possible—in order to carry that message forward.”
“But how?” I asked, feeling defeated but trying to keep it out of my voice.
“You’ll be able to answer that question by asking yourself another one: why me?” Annabelle said.
I snorted. “Believe me, I ask myself that question about five times a day.”