by Tad Williams
"She knows?" Theo was a little surprised. "Of course I know. And I am really thrilled." She extended her hand. "Please forgive me — I am being a terrible hostess, but that's what happens when the thirst of inquiry is on me, I'm afraid. Welcome to our house. I am Lady Aemilia Jonquil. Lord Daffodil is my brother."
It took Theo a moment to realize that the hand he was shaking wore some kind of latex glove. Maybe she really had been helping a horse give birth, he thought. Or, more likely, a unicorn. "Nice to . . . meet you."
"Oh, and you, too, Master Vilmos. Now, I know this should really wait until tomorrow when we can get the testing under way properly, but before we put you to bed I'd like to perform just one or two small — and, I'm afraid, a bit more than moderately painful — experiments on you."
With Applecore hovering just out of range and ignoring Theo's increasingly nervous questions, Lady Jonquil took him by the hand and led him through the guard tower into the stony fastness of Daffodil House.
19 A HOLIDAY VISIT
The wind had changed and that morning had shifted into the northeast, a stiff breeze from Ys that moaned through the bending treetops of True Arden, a wind with a bite to it, first messenger of still-distant winter. It was the day before Mabon, and many of the staff would be traveling home for the holiday to visit family out in the countryside whom they had not seen in months. The younger employees, including some who could not afford the trip back home, were making the great house festive with corn dolls and acorn mazes and piles of apples on the tabletops. One of the caretakers had made a wine moon out of wicker and birch bark and hung it above the front door where it jiggled in the freshening wind.
It was an exciting day at Zinnia Manor, and not just because of the holiday, or the weather change, or any of the more usual reasons — sympathetic madness among the clinic-hobs nearing retirement, or an escape by one of the Feverfew twins (each time they immediately went to ground in the hilly countryside that surrounded the manor; sometimes the director had to hire a Black Dog and handler to track down the shapeshifting escapee). Instead, what was causing excitement among the nurses as they passed each other in the old halls or huddled over tea and lavender-oil muffins in the break room was the knowledge that the patient they called the Silent Primrose Maiden was going to have one of her rare visitors. The fact that it was almost always the same visitor, and that he came most holidays, did not make him any the less interesting to the manor staff. Not only was Erephine Primrose's visitor handsome even by the high standards of his folk, and also the heir-apparent to one of the most powerful family houses, he was known to be unattached. Dynastic pressures were strong, and he was said to have fathered a child or two on the weft side, but that did not mean he would never marry. And, as one of the youngest nurses pointed out, there was no law in Faerie that said he could not marry a commoner if he fell in love with one.
The older nurses laughed at this — the youngster who had spoken of the Primrose lordling as though he lived in the same world she did was a farm girl still damp behind the ears with the dews of Ivy Round, one who followed the romance fables available through Zinnia Manor's mirrorstream with the same deeply absorbed belief that other fairy-folk reserved for news about the latest debate in the Parliament of Blooms or announcements about interfield trade statistics or distant border skirmishes between the giants and the smaller but more ambitious mountain trolls. Still, all but the most hardened of her coworkers found something naively charming in the young nurse's insistence that even her large and pretty wings were no barrier to an alliance with a scion of one of the Flower houses.
"It's not as if I couldn't do something about that," she protested. "People are having their wings off all the time." "Even more than once, some of them," another nurse pointed out. "Like Mr. Lungwort. His just keep growing back no matter how many times he has 'em pruned." The others laughed. The sanitarium's administrator was not particularly popular and his ambitions were the subject of frequent discussion.
"If you're lonely, what you really want is a mortal," said one of the older nurses. "Smelly and hairy and savage. Ooh, that'd do me right. I've not had any of that for centuries."
"Getting one of them's no more likely than getting a fellow out of one of the Six Houses — not these days," said another. " 'Sides, if that Primrose lad even looked at you too long, I imagine there would be more than a few ladies from the High Houses who'd be happy to set a Stroke Boy on you," the older nurse said cheerfully. "That happened to a girl I know who was in service. They don't like to share with our sort."
"Look," the farm lass said, blushing. "I know it's not going to happen, but a girl can dream, can't she?" At least they could all agree on that. And the Silent Primrose Maiden's brother, most of them also agreed, was someone worth daydreaming about.
————— "Erephine?" he said, as though he might be interrupting her at something. She sat in her chair, still and warmthless as a statue. "Good Mabon Eve, dear one. It's me, Caradenus. I came to see you."
He closed the door behind him and checked to make sure it latched. There had seemed to be an unusual number of nurses in the corridor as he had made his way to his sister's room, all doing their best not to watch him too obviously but not entirely succeeding. It was difficult to believe they all had business in the same part of the manor at the same time. Lately he found himself swimming in strange political currents; he wondered if the staff might be spying on him. But who would go to such an extreme? The Excisors? They must have larger matters to worry about than the duty that brought him to Zinnia Manor. His own father? Surely the two of them hadn't moved so far apart, for all their differences. No, he could make no sense of it. Perhaps it was only his imagination. Still, the staff had all seemed so . . . interested.
"I've come to see you for a reason." He reached out and took his sister's cold hand. "I'm involved in some things that might make it hard for me to come see you for a while." He moved a little closer, lowered his voice, for all the world as though he were sharing a secret with someone who could understand it. "Things are . . . difficult all over just now, especially in the City. There's talk of another Flower War." He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very weary. "I fear it may be true. What a horror that would be, after all these years of peace."
He let go of her hand and sat back, examining her face. She continued looking at nothing. He made himself smile, but it was difficult. "Do you remember when we were both young and we went to go see our cousins at Pimpernel Rise in Alder Head, that big house in the hills? You were afraid because someone told you there were manticores in that wood, and I said I would protect you, that I wasn't afraid of anything." He shook his head. "I was only a boy, with my first sword and a few charms I'd learned. I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Ever. I promised."
For a long moment he could not speak. "The old goblin," he said at last. "It's just come back to me. Do you remember him? We met him on the Bonfire Road. He was riding to market with some rabbit skins and he let you pet his unicorn." He summoned back the smile. "You were so brave! It had bells around its neck and it shied at the smell of me, or perhaps at one of the charms I was wearing. The bells all jingled. But it lowered its head so you could stroke it. How big your eyes were!"
He took her hand again and they sat in silence for a long time. "I will come back to see you as soon as I can," he said as he stood up. "I do not forget. I will not forget." He bent and kissed a cheek like clay. "And if the day ever comes, I will see you avenged for this. I have sworn it by the Well." He hesitated, then bent and kissed her again, his eyes blinking. "I love you, my Erephine, my sister." She still had not moved except for the small expansions and contractions of her chest. "Farewell."
—————
"He is fine to look at, isn't he? But he seemed sad when he went out," the young nurse from the farm country said. "Didn't you think so?"
"You can't tell with those Flower-folk," one of the others said. "Stiff as statues, they are."
"But maybe he
's unhappy about his sister . . ." Her coworker shook her head and went on measuring out the bite-me-not elixir into small cups: it was medicine time in the Active wing. "They don't waste their strength on feelings, those Flower lords, and especially not about the girl children of the families. They do what's right so that everyone can see it, of course. Very big on making the right show."
"Besides," said one of the older women, "She's been in here for years, so they must all be used to it by now. No, you're just being a romantic, my girl. It's easy to do with these rich, fair-faced chaps — they can seem however they want."
"Do you really think so?" "Mark my words, girl, and don't let yourself be fooled. They rule the world, that lot. All of Faerie bends the knee to them. What would one of them have to be sad about?"
20 AMONG THE CREEPERS
"What the hell is that?" Theo squinted at the jar Lady Aemilia was holding, which glowed a pale yellowish green like something out of a lowbudget movie.
"Don't be such a big girl's blouse," said Applecore, kicking her legs on the edge of the dispensary table.
"And what's that bizarre expression supposed to mean?"
"It shouldn't hurt at all," said the fairy noblewoman, but Theo felt she could have put a bit more feeling into the assurance. "You said the last thing would only smart a bit and then it felt like someone stuck a dental drill in my spinal column. So 'shouldn't hurt at all' means what? No worse than a severe beating?"
"Certainly no worse than that," Lady Aemilia agreed. "Just lie on your stomach. Aren't we glad we didn't put our shirt back on?" "Oh, yeah, we're thrilled." Theo clambered back onto the medical table and its white linen cover. He couldn't escape the feeling that this sparsely decorated room was actually a veterinary surgery, but he supposed he should be grateful that at least it was clean. Still, this was not the bargain he would have preferred to make — painful experimentation in return for sanctuary. "You still haven't told me what's in that jar."
"A leech, of course. We need some of your blood." Theo was halfway off the table before Lady Aemilia grabbed his arm, but he got no farther. She was surprisingly strong for someone who looked like a willowy hundred and ten pounds at the most. "Don't make such a scene, young fellow." She turned to Applecore. "Does he really know so little about science?"
"Science — you're calling leeches 'science'? What do you call thumbscrews and the rack — 'probation'?"
"We simply need some of your blood so we can determine how . . . so we can do some other important testing. We so rarely get the chance to study someone like you."
"I thought this city used to be full of visiting mortals." "Oh. Well, not . . . full, exactly. In any case, it has been a long while since we have had anyone of your type here, and our science has moved forward rapidly since then. This is a priceless opportunity to increase knowledge. Now would you please stop being such a soppy boy and lie down."
"Her ladyship knows what she's doin', Theo," said Applecore. Theo didn't want to embarrass the sprite, but then again, it wasn't like she'd consulted him before getting him into this, either. He stretched himself facedown on the table and stared at the wall, which except for a stylized daffodil in bas-relief was as tastefully blank as the rest of the room's walls. He tried to relax, but when Lady Aemilia's cool hand suddenly touched his back muscles he barely stifled a shriek of alarm.
"Silly. Tensing up will only make it worse. Don't worry, these leeches are specially bred in the most scientific surroundings." Something was set gently on his back below one shoulder blade and settled there with a small wet shrug; he tried not to think about it too much. It nipped him sharply, then he could feel numbness spreading. "It should be better now," his hostess explained. "They have anaesthetic saliva. 'Anaesthetic' means that it suppresses . . ."
"I know what it means." It was probably bad form to interrupt fairy women of high social standing, but right this moment he didn't give a shit. He was tired of being treated like Charlton Heston on the ape planet. "It's Greek for 'We just added another five hundred bucks to your hospital bill.' " The puzzled silence lasted several seconds. "That was a joke."
"Ah, of course," said Lady Aemilia. "Oops, I think this little fellow is full. Cumber! Could you bring in another leech, please."
"Another one? Why don't you just poke a hole in me and fill a bucket?"
"What a good idea!" She tightened her grip to keep him on the table. "That was also a joke, Master Vilmos."
————— After Lady Aemilia had disappeared — off to instruct little fairy children on the evils of chewing gum or something similar, Theo suspected — he pulled his shirt and pants back on. The noblewoman's assistant, a small male fairy with skin the color of butterscotch pudding and hair only a shade lighter had remained to straighten up the examining room.
"How long have I been in here? It feels like it's been all day."
"It's late afternoon," Applecore told him. "Are you hungry?"
"Oh, yeah. Nothing like having a huge glowing leech on your back to put a man in the mood for chow." "Would you like to wash your hands before I clean the sink?" asked the assistant. Theo shook his head and the slender fellow went to work scrubbing the shiny bronze.
"You're a grump, Vilmos," observed Applecore. "Why are they so interested? I mean, there must have been half a dozen people in here today, staring at me. Not that any of them bothered to talk to me. I felt like the Elephant Man or something."
"I can tell you," said the assistant. When Theo turned to look at him, he blushed a little, or seemed to — it was hard to tell with his skin color. Applecore fluttered up from the table and buzzed over to Theo's shoulder, balancing on it carefully as he buttoned his shirt. "Yeah, why don't you? He never listens to me."
The fairy bobbed his head and smiled. He seemed shy, but not in the servile way Theo had encountered so often during his single day at Daffodil House: the goblin housemaids who would not meet his gaze, the wingless but still obviously lower-class functionaries who hurried to one side to let him pass. In fact, there was a gleam in this fairy's eyes as he spoke that Theo could not at first understand. "It's just . . . oh, I'm certain that coming from a magical world like yours, we must all seem very drab to you, Master Vilmos. But it's an honor to be part of these examinations. You cannot imagine how exciting it is." His cheeks grew a little more brown; he was definitely flushed, now. "Speaking for myself. I mean, I'm certain Lady Aemilia is quite interested too, of course she is. But for me, it's . . ." He took a breath. "I earned my graduate degree in Mortal Studies. So this is . . . I never even hoped . . ."
Theo could not help liking this fellow. There was something pleasingly childlike about him, and not just his ageless features, or the fact that the top of his head only reached Theo's shoulder. "Well, I can't say I'm happy to be of service — not quite — but I suppose I'm glad someone's getting something out of this. What's your name?"
The fairy seemed caught entirely by surprise. "My name?" "Shit, did I say something wrong again? Do you come from some fairyplace where you're not allowed to have a name until you've turned at least one pumpkin into a coach or something?" Theo regretted his sarcasm — the fellow looked confused and almost on the verge of panic. "Never mind. Is it all right to ask your name?"
Applecore snorted. "You see what it's like, running around with mortals? Put that in your next lab report, fella. I could tell you stories . . ."
"No, I just . . ." The assistant shook his head. "My name is Cumber. Cumber Sedge." "Pleased to meet you." Theo began tying his shoes. "Now where am I supposed to eat? They brought some little seedcakes this morning, but I haven't had a bite since." He turned to Applecore. "They put you in some other part of the complex. Have you got a cafeteria over there or something?"
"I'm staying in Daffodil Comb under the main tower," she said. "I think you'd find the portions a bit small. But we should be able to get you set up in the refectory, or maybe they'd even bring something to your room, although it's usually only the high muckety-mucks that get that kind of t
reatment. Speaking of your room, did they do right by you? I didn't get much of a chance to look it over this morning."
"It's fine — kind of like the Wonderland Holiday Inn, but no complaints. I'm afraid to touch any of the appliances, though — I almost set Tansy's place on fire when I was there."
Cumber Sedge straightened, the gleam back in his eyes. "You know Count Tansy?"
Theo hesitated and looked to Applecore, but she seemed unconcerned. "Yeah, sort of. I stayed with him for a couple of days." "He has some fascinating ideas about etheric vapors, quite original. One of the few Flower lords who is more than simply a gentleman scientist." He looked around guiltily after uttering this bit of lése majesté. "Have you read his work on Circular and Triangular Utterances?"
"Uh, I'm afraid I've been a bit busy lately, but I'll be getting to it any time now." He winced as Applecore tweaked his ear. "Stop that. So, where can I get something to eat? Dinner, supper, whatever you call your evening meal?"
"Would . . ." That one word seemed to have bankrupted Sedge's courage; he plunged his hands deep into the pockets of his white tunic and swayed a little, then had to take a deep breath before trying again. "Would you like to go have a proper meal? After all, it's Mabon Eve. I could take you — both of you. It would be an honor. There is a small restaurant here in Daffodil House, near the park, that's very nice." He flushed again. "Or so I'm told."
Theo shrugged. "Sounds good. Applecore? Or have you got something hot and heavy going on back at the comb — a date with Tom Thumb, maybe?"
"You're vulgar even for a mortal, you are." She dropped from his shoulder and buzzed over closer to Sedge. "Do I have time to smarten meself up a little?"