The Conspiracy of Unicorns

by Michael Angel

  I considered that. “Well, I did get that postcard you sent from Tristan da Cunha, in the South Atlantic. That was a neat trick, by the way. I was wondering how one of the pouquelaye could write a letter, put it in an envelope, and mail it. You may be magical, but you still don’t have opposable thumbs.”

  “It was surprisingly easy,” Destry admitted. “I sent a dream to an islander. One who was experimenting with ‘lucid dreaming’. I appeared in his dreams, suggested he write the postcard and then mail it.”

  Shelly frowned. “You ‘suggested’ it? The way you did to McClatchy? When you pulled me along for the ride?”

  “No, not like that,” the pooka said quickly. “I was learning to…how would you say it…walk in all types of dreams, not just nightmares. And without leaving traces. Or changes.”

  “Hmph. Well, that sounds like you’re tryin’ to get on the right path, at least.”

  “From there, I traveled many places,” Destry continued, as he crunched up the last of the pineapple Shelly had put into his bowl. “A little town at the tip of Tierra del Fuego at first. Then I moved on to the Maldives. Later, I found a restful spot called Diego Garcia to the east. By then I was hungering to hear my mother tongue again. I kept travelling towards the morning sun until I reached an archipelago known as French Polynesia.”

  I dearly wanted to know how the pooka travelled such immense distances, especially over open ocean. Then again, Destry had proven his ability to cross between this world and Andeluvia without much problem. It was mind-boggling to me how species like the phoenix and wyverns had totally different perspectives on time. It was odd to realize that beings such as the pouquelaye must’ve had equally exotic notions of space and distance.

  “By the time I arrived in the Archipel des Tuamotu – the Tuamotu islands – I was terribly tired and hungry. I stayed there for a time, travelling the beaches near one of the local pearling villages, soaking up the tropical sun. When night fell, I would walk along the narrow streets of the village’s core, where the streetlamps burned until dawn.”

  Images of a movie I’d seen when I was a child came to mind. Of a coal-black Arabian stallion wandering the beaches of a deserted island. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the name of the film, but the pictures had stuck in my head.

  “As you know, there are not many who can see me,” Destry chuckled. “But to my surprise, a few of the local children could. The ‘glass phones’ you use were not as common there, at least not yet. They decided to befriend me. The children brought me coconuts, crab meat, other things I really didn’t need to eat, and I played in the surf with them.

  “Eventually, some of the local adults heard about this ‘dark horse’ that kept their children company. They became worried that I was a trickster spirit, sent to take their children or some such nonsense. These adults could never quite see me. I decided not to help them out, since that would only make things worse. So, they sent the children to their local kapua, what I think you would call a ‘shaman’. She was an old woman who wore a shawl made of shells, and while age had almost robbed her of her sight, she saw me as plain as day.”

  “Did you speak to her, then?” I asked. It was easy to get caught up in Destry’s story. “I mean, since she could see you.”

  “Oh, but of course. She quickly understood my nature, and she explained to the others that I was a ‘benevolent spirit’. From there on, the villagers thought of me as their resident fayleene.”

  Shelly gave him a puzzled look. “The resident what?”

  “Fayleene,” I answered. “Remember what I told you about Liam? His people, the fayleene, have always been considered good luck.”

  “Since I now brought good luck,” Destry went on, “I was welcomed to explore all parts of the village. The children asked if I would rub some luck off on their parents’ work, so I went there and did what I could. The ‘luck’ I brought was all show, of course, but I did learn much from them while I was there.”

  “Their parents’ work? What did they do out there?”

  “They were farmers, for the most part.”

  “You mean like fish farming?” Shelly inquired. “Or like what folks down in the bayou do, raisin’ up crawdads?”

  Destry shook his head. “Neither. They farmed…oh, what is the word? Mollusques? No, wait, I have it. Oysters. Snails. All kinds of sea creatures with shells. Mostly for pearls. Big black ones, shiny as a slick of oil on the water and sometimes as big as your fist! They could make fine jewelry from what they harvested there. Or even more interesting things.”

  He turned and let the lamps from Shelly’s kitchen light up one of his saddle bags. The rich purple hue and relatively loose stitch work implied local craftwork. And that said ‘gift’.

  “The islanders must’ve made these for you in thanks,” I concluded. “But what have you been using them for?”

  “I’ve been collecting things both strange and useful.” He nudged my arm with his warm nose. “See what I have in this bag. When I left the island to travel the rest of the world, I was able to store my keepsakes in it.”

  What would a pooka consider a keepsake? I undid the straps holding the left-side bag shut and reached inside. I felt something hard and cold brush my fingertips for a moment, and then I had it. Or a few somethings, anyway.

  Shelly gasped in amusement as I brought my hand out. I stared at the objects in my grasp uncomprehendingly for a moment. I had to squint against the glare to read names like Sydney, Bangkok, Abu Dhabi and Saint Petersburg.

  I finally found my voice. “Are these…souvenir spoons?”

  “Yes, and I have quite the collection now,” Destry said proudly. “In my opinion, they are one of the best human inventions! They are sturdy, and light enough for me to bring anywhere I travel.”

  “You definitely have a growing collection there,” I agreed. “What’s in the other bag? More of the same?”

  “Much the same, yes. Spoons and other things from the islands.”

  “Well,” I said, as I sat back with a sigh, “I’m glad that you had fun on your travels, but maybe it’s time I caught you up on everything from Andeluvia. A lot has happened while you were away that you don’t know about.”

  If I had to be completely honest, part of me felt a tiny bit…well, ‘jealous’ wasn’t really the right word. Maybe ‘resentful’ of Destry’s extended jaunt. While he’d been out playing equine beachcomber, my friends and I had been busy cleaning up after his mistakes and holding off the Creatures of the Dark.

  “Chére, do not be so sure,” he chided me. “Just as I traveled around this globe, so too did I visit Andeluvia several times before I went in search of you. I visited the passageways of the griffin aerie, the taverns of human towns, the mead halls of the centaurs, and many places beyond those. I learned of the slaughter that ruined the griffins and the attempted coup among the Hoohan. I heard about the return and later destruction of the Seraphine. The battle of humans, centaur, and Ultari at the Oxine River. And the attack on King Fitzwilliam that left him near death.”

  Shelly let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you have been keeping up with things.”

  “Not quite everything,” I cautioned. “You may not know about the return of the Queen of the Hakseeka. The final translation of the story in the Codex of the Bellus Draconum. Or of the troubles we’ve just run into with the Deliberation of Wizards.”

  “You’re having problems with the Deliberati?” Destry asked, surprised.

  “We are, and unless you know something about them, I’m stuck back at square one.”

  Destry let out a snort.

  “Well, I know some things about them. The Deliberati live in a magically bounded place of ever-lasting winter. They call it the ‘Everwinter Glade’.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “In my opinion, they are not very creative when it comes to giving things names.”

  For the second time this evening, my jaw threatened to drop and bounce on Shelly’s kitchen floor.

  “Wait a m
inute,” I said, after I finished gulping some fresh air. “Do you know where this place is?”

  “Mais bien sûr,” Destry replied. “Why? Is it important?”

  Shelly and I traded a look.

  “Darlin’,” she finally said, “You best let Dayna fill you in on what you need to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The late-morning sun lit up the Dame’s Tower, turning my makeshift office into a golden chalice. I got to appreciate it as soon as I was able to blink away the flashbulb whiteness of transport. I swayed a bit on my feet as I arrived, but it was a far cry from the drunken stumbles of the past.

  But that didn’t stop my friends from lending me a hand. Or paw, for that matter. Galen’s hand came to rest on my shoulder at the exact same time Shaw’s leonine paw touched my waist. Liam stood from where he’d reclined before my empty hearth as he heard me arrive.

  “Thanks, guys,” I said, as I was steadied. “It’s good to be back.”

  “I take it that the Land of Angels has been ‘challenging’ once again?” Galen asked solicitously. “Surely it has been less exciting here, though educational all the same.”

  Liam gave a cervine chortle. “Don’t let him fool you, Dayna. Our Wizard friend has been absolutely giddy with the prospect of showing you what he’s learned from Queen Nagura.”

  “Giddy?” the centaur sputtered. “That would be a base exaggeration. Perhaps I am enthused, yes. Or modestly twitterpated, but that is all.”

  “Nay, Liam has the right of it,” Shaw agreed, with a bob of his beak. “Thy wizard has been like a fledgling with a new set of pinion feathers to show. Though what he has learned…‘tis difficult for us to understand.”

  Galen stared at the two in surprise. “I thought I conveyed the subject matter with utmost clarity! Certainly, neither of you objected at the end of my explanation!”

  “Alas, the hour for mealtime drew nigh,” the griffin admitted. “Thus, I skipped any questions I might have had in favor of much-needed food.”

  “And I fell asleep during your lecture,” Liam said sheepishly. “To be fair, we had been up late speaking with Queen Nagura as well as Regent Magnus.”

  “But…mayhap…” Galen blurted out, hurt. I patted him on the arm and gently moved him off to one side.

  “I promise that I’ll try and stay awake for the big reveal,” I said, as I moved to stand by the centaur’s side. “As you folks say in this world, ‘Bide for a moment’. There’s someone arriving just behind me who also has some knowledge we need.”

  Shaw and Liam traded puzzled glances. Then the whoosh of a candle being blown out echoed in my ears. The smoky shape of the pooka phased into solidity right into the space I’d left vacant.

  “Destry!” Liam exclaimed, as he trotted forward to rub noses with the new arrival. “How we’ve missed you.”

  “Thou art welcome as ever to our demesne,” Shaw said amiably.

  The Wizard’s greeting was a bit more reserved. “We have oft wondered when you would appear again, son of the Dream Speaker.”

  Galen’s reaction didn’t surprise me in the least. While he had been sympathetic to Destry’s problems, he was less sanguine about the pooka’s power. Wizards had to be precise and sparing with the power they used – and very much aware of their consequences. That the young pooka had been so cavalier with a mind-altering spell had never sat well with the centaur.

  “Mes amies, I cannot help but be touched,” Destry said. “It is good to be back with you.”

  It could have been my imagination, but I was sure that I spotted a rosy tinge about Destry’s equine muzzle. I wasn’t really surprised by that. The pooka may have been cast out of his original family, but he’d been warmly embraced by the makeshift one that had somehow coalesced around me.

  “Thou hast developed an interesting taste in adornment,” Shaw noted, as he spotted Destry’s purple saddle bags. Liam cautiously sniffed at one of the bags.

  “They are but gifts from friends,” Destry replied.

  “Destry has some useful information that he gleaned from his travels,” I noted. “But since Galen has been ‘twitter-papered’, or whatever, I want to hear what he has to say first.”

  Shaw let out a long-suffering sigh and reclined upon the patchwork array of carpets I’d gotten from around the palace. Liam did the same on one side of the drake, while Destry trotted over to stand on the other. I pulled out a bench to make myself comfortable as Galen pulled out the room’s wheeled slate board. Luckily, he found a ready piece of chalk and an open space on the note-covered board to work with.

  “Given how miniscule the attention span appears to be in Andeluvia these days,” Galen intoned, with a wryly arched eyebrow, “I shall eschew the technical details of the knowledge Queen Nagura related to me, and focus upon the resulting effects to the environment. Only one general concept needs to be stated up front: the magic used is the exact same as a stasis spell.”

  Destry let out a snort at that. Even I was surprised.

  “Hold on,” I said. “How is a ‘speed up time’ spell like a ‘stasis’ spell?”

  “To be precise, this would be called a chrono velocitas spell,” the Wizard explained. “When one creates a stasis spell, anything within its boundaries is ‘disconnected’ in time. Those boundaries must be sharply set, for chronos magic requires more power than any type of spell I’ve seen before.”

  The Wizard turned and sketched a crude thatched hut or house with a peaked roof on the board. Then he drew two cartoon centaurs, one standing inside the house and one outside. The outside one held a long, thin object meant to be a wizard’s staff.

  “The centaur outside can cast chronos magic upon the space inside the house, because it is a bounded area,” Galen stated. “But the reverse cannot happen, because the ‘outside’ is not a bounded area the way that the house is.”

  “That’s supposed to be a drawing of a house?” Liam whispered.

  “‘Tis but a drawing?” Shaw whispered back. “Mine own eyes had thought that it was the real thing!”

  “Guys, come on,” I shushed them. “We’re not here to give art criticism.”

  Galen continued, pointedly ignoring the commentary from his audience. “Should the outside centaur cast a stasis spell on the house, then a ‘field’ of sorts would cover the dwelling. One year outside that field becomes but a couple of weeks to the centaur on the inside of it.”

  I considered that for a moment. Yes, that was exactly the effect that Regent Magnus had observed firsthand. When I’d released him from the Galen’s stasis spell, he’d correctly deduced from his rate of hair and nail growth that he’d been ensorcelled for a year at most.

  “And a chrono…whatever, that effect could be reversed?” I asked. “A couple weeks spent outside the field would become a year inside of it?”

  “That would be an accurate way of putting it.”

  Now I finally had it. The solution of how to cram six months of fermentation into three weeks or less. Hope surged in my chest, and I had to fight to leash it before I spoke.

  “Galen, you said that that such a field had to be ‘sharply defined’. I’m guessing that you mean a small, well defined space, right?”

  The Wizard rubbed his chin. “Yes, that is correct. The ‘smallness’ of the area is my biggest concern. As I said, the velocitas spell requires a great deal of energy. I do not believe that I could cast a spell to encompass even a quarter of this room.”

  “All right,” I allowed. “Then would it be possible to cast this spell on a tightly bounded area…say, the size of a mead jug’s interior?”

  A toothy smile blossomed on Galen’s face. He nodded. Liam stamped his forehoof in excitement, while Shaw gave an excited caw.

  The pooka looked between the four of us, puzzled.

  “I must be missing something incroyable. Why this talk of chronos magic? And why a mead jug?”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t keep from breaking out into a grin myself.

  “Destry,
we may have found the answer to my most pressing problem in this world. All we need to do now is test it out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Galen’s eyes gleamed at my words. All we need to do now is test it out.

  “Given the time I have spent studying and adapting the wyvern incantation,” he said, “I am aglow with anticipation. Only, where shall we perform the test?”

  I considered that for a second. “I’m thinking of Lord Quinton’s castle. Excepting the hive that the mites killed off, the rest were coming along nicely. If there hasn’t been any honey extracted by Quinton’s people yet, then I’m sure there will be some for us to harvest.”

  The Wizard nodded. “An excellent idea! I shall prepare to transport us in a few moments.”

  “Hold up, hold up. In the first place, I need to get my kit together. In the second place, I think I better handle the transport.” I fingered the silver medallion on my chain. “If this ‘velocitas’ spell is as hard as you claim, then I want you to save your juice.”

  He nodded agreement, so I went down the stairway at the back of the tower room to fetch the ‘Mead Making 101’ kit that I’d purchased online. I’d stored the equipment in a special dust-proof package that I could carry with a pair of shoulder straps like a bulbous backpack. As I got it ready, I idly listened to the others conversing upstairs.

  “This is now Dame Chrissie’s headquarters?” Destry asked. “Intéressant. Good use of leftover carpeting and spare furniture. Very avant-garde.”

  “I can’t say much for human tastes in furnishings,” Liam chimed in. “Too much rock and dead wood. But we like it well enough.”

  Shaw spoke next. “Aye, that’s true. Everything here has Dayna’s scent on it.”

  Well, that’s great news, I thought, as I managed to jam a shoulder into one of the straps. At least I think it is. Maybe I better wear more deodorant from now on.

  “Destry, will you be joining us for our little sojourn?” Galen asked. “I realize that you prefer travelling in the manner of your kind. Will you be able to trace the spoor of the transport spell?”