Forged Steel

by H A Titus

  The tent at our left was smaller, just an awning with folding tables set underneath it. The tables were bowing under an assortment of knives. Only two customers stood at the front of that. The first, a tall, thin fae with a scruff-covered chin and a sweeping blond mane, picked up a knife, frowning as he weighed it. He wore a red leather coat styled to look like a tailed tuxedo, and black skinny jeans with leather knee patches tucked into half-laced boots.

  The other guy was about my height, with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. Both of his wrists were encircled by wide leather bracelets studded with chunks of bronze. He rattled as he moved, and no wonder—the guy wore more chains than a gangster. Several thick chains looped from his back pockets to his front pockets, with more hanging from his front pockets, and each chain sported several visible pocket watches of varying sizes. Surprisingly, he only wore one chain around his neck, with a small, almost delicate-looking gold pocket watch hanging from it.

  Eliaster elbowed me. "Don't stare. Gren will take your head off likely as not."

  "Who?"

  "Gren Silver. The pocket watch guy. Everyone knows him—he's from New York and has quite a reputation. He has probably about a dozen grenades concealed in those pocket watches, and who knows what else. He likes explosives. The guy with him is his half-brother, Coriander."

  I sidled a few steps to the side. "Okay."

  David laughed and threw his arm around my shoulders. "Welcome to the Underworld, as if you haven’t noticed yet."

  The gesture made me uncomfortable, but I tried to cover it by chuckling. Eliaster gave me a sharp look, but said nothing.

  The attendant came back out and bowed to Eliaster. "My master says he will see you. Please, come this way."

  Chapter 15

  We followed the man into the tent. Tables heaped with scrap metal and junky car parts were crammed into the space. We all had to turn sideways and suck in our guts to squeeze through the smallest spaces.

  The attendant stopped at the back of the tent and opened a panel, gesturing inside.

  This part of the tent was richly furnished. Thick, colorful rugs covered the floor and the walls of the tent. A long, low table dominated the center of the space, with cushions scattered around it. Sitting at the opposite side of the table was a tall, thickset fae who looked completely engrossed in a thick stack of paper in front of him. His white business suit made me think of Sydney Greenstreet in Casa Blanca.

  The attendant gently cleared his throat, and the fae looked up. A too-white smile appeared on his face, and his bright blue eyes widened. "Eliaster Tyrone!" He stood.

  "Councilman Aifric." Eliaster extended his hand.

  The fae grabbed him in a bear hug. "It's been too long, my boy, too long."

  Eliaster patted Aifric's back and wiggled free, his neck turning the color of a bad sunburn. "Um, yeah. Way too long."

  "I think I'd pay to see Eliaster this discomfited every day," Larae whispered in my ear.

  I snickered.

  Eliaster shot me a glare.

  Aifric busied himself by pushing cushions into place with his feet and making expansive gestures for us to sit down. As we chose spots around the table, he darted to the opening in the tent wall and spoke to his attendant in hushed tones.

  "No food!" Eliaster protested.

  Aifric raised an eyebrow at him. "Since when did you develop such sharp hearing?"

  He grinned. "I just know you, Aifric. You'd have us so fat from a feast that we couldn't even roll ourselves out the door."

  With a sigh, Aifric waddled back to his cushions and sat down. He picked up a horsetail flyswatter and flicked it at a couple of bluebottles buzzing around Larae.

  She flinched away.

  Definitely Sydney Greenstreet. That guy had it in for flies too. I bit the inside of my lower lip to restrain a snicker.

  "So, down to business. Just like your father." Aifric folded his hands on the table.

  "I'm not just like—" Eliaster started.

  "So much like him, in fact, that you've focused all your attention on what you're here for and ignored the basic tenets of civility. I haven't been introduced to three-quarters of the people in the room."

  Technically, since you already know yourself and Eliaster, it would be three-fifths of the people in the room. I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  Eliaster rolled his eyes. "This is David North and Larae Ó Dáleigh. And this—" he jerked his thumb at me. "Josh MacAllister."

  Aifric eyebrows rose to nearly meet his thick mop of blond hair. "A newcomer to the Underworld, I see."

  "How could you tell?" I asked.

  "Your eyes," he said.

  For a moment, I thought he meant the d'anam fuinneog. But David, as a human, didn't have that either.

  Aifric clarified in a quiet tone. "Everyone has layers in their eyes, even humans. Your layers are not yet hardened and cynical like so many Underworlders. And I can tell—you view our world as something new and exotic, something to be treated as an adventure. Always, it begins in this way."

  I stared at Aifric, gap-mouthed. How was I supposed to respond to that?

  Eliaster snorted. "Great. Can we cut the mushy stuff and get on with it, Aifric?"

  Aifric sighed.

  I ventured a quick glance at Eliaster. Every muscle in his body looked drawn and tense, like he wanted nothing more than to run away.

  Aifric folded his hands on the table. "What can I do for you, Eliaster?"

  "For reasons you don't need to know, we need to get into the Lost Tunnels," Eliaster said shortly.

  Aifric's flabby face went pale. He shook his head and his jowls wobbled like a bull-dog's. "No one comes out of there alive. No one. People say it's haunted by those who died in the fire."

  Larae sent Eliaster an I told you so look.

  "And you believe that?" Eliaster's tone was skeptical.

  Aifric spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "What can I say? People who go in don't come out. Eliaster, please, what harebrained scheme are you up to now? You don't want me to be the one who has to call your father and tell him of your death. Do you know what he would do to me?"

  "Regardless," Eliaster said. "We need to get in. It also wouldn't hurt if you could find maps or something."

  Aifric's breath whistled out and his chest deflated like a popped balloon. His fingers moved along the table as he thought, running through the condensation of the water glass sitting to the side. Beads of water trailed away from the fae's fingers in a series of twists and turns, a rudimentary Celtic knot.

  He shook his head. "There are no maps of the Lost Tunnels. Perhaps, however, there might be a sniffer or two available to be hired as guides."

  A what? I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to miss any of the conversation. There'd be time later to ask questions.

  Aifric raised his hands in a shrug. "Still, your father—"

  "Sent me on this quest," Eliaster said sharply.

  Aifric's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me this in the first place?"

  Eliaster shrugged.

  Aifric grunted. "One of these days… Well. Let me see what I can do. This may take some time. In the meantime, again, would you share a meal with me?"

  Larae butted in before Eliaster could answer. "I'm hungry."

  "As the lady commands, so it shall be!" Aifric winked at her and gestured to his attendant.

  Eliaster bowed sarcastically to Larae. "Forgive me for not listening to your wishes before, my lady."

  "Oh, stop it. It's got to be past midday, and the only one of us who has eaten anything is Josh. Though I'm not sure donuts count as food."

  "Food-like enough for my stomach to digest, though not happily," I said. "What's a sniffer?"

  Larae answered. "A fae who has the uncanny ability to find whatever it is that you're looking for, be it a person, place, or thing. Supposedly they can smell the difference between Earth and Otherworld things like a normal person can smell the difference between Indian curry and a greasy-spoon hamb
urger."

  "Hey, was that a Josh-inspired simile?" I asked.

  She grinned and playfully nudged my ribs with her elbow.

  Marc's girlfriend, I reminded myself as I scooted a few inches away.

  David leaned in close to her other side and whispered something to her, brushing his knuckles against her shoulder as he did so. I watched them, feeling a vague sense of unease settle in my chest.

  What was it with those two? The motion was so casual that it looked like he'd done it subconsciously. I'd never seen them touch intimately like that before, and it felt wrong for their relationship. That was a touch a guy would give his girlfriend, not one that casual, platonic friends would use.

  Aifric finished giving instructions to the attendant. The man disappeared through the tent's side door. Within two minutes, several servants—men and women—came inside, carrying large metal trays stacked with steaming bowls of food. The meaty, spicy aroma that wafted around us made my nose twitch.

  "Speaking of curry," Larae said with another smile as several bowls of vibrant cumin- and chili-colored rice and meat were laid on the table.

  The servants loaded our plates with portions of everything and left the tent. Aifric motioned for us to dig in.

  Lamb and chicken curry spices exploded in my mouth, leaving my taste buds tingling. The cold cucumber salad cooled my tongue, as did the sweet, pink, watermelon-flavored drink. Something was slightly different in all of the food—nothing nasty—but different. The flavors and smells of the food and the Underworld mingled, creating a pungent scent that flavored all of the food so it tasted not-quite-normal, just a tinge of pleasant strangeness. Roe's food hadn't tasted like this at all.

  During the meal, fae came and went from Aifric's side, often staying just long enough to whisper a few sentences before heading back outside. Eliaster kept a careful watch on them all as he ate.

  The servants seemed to know instinctively when I was stuffed to the breaking point. As I set my fork onto my plate with a sigh, one of them swooped in and snatched it up.

  As soon as the table was cleared, Aifric leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. "It seems I was correct that this would take time. Of the three sniffers I know of residing in Chicago, one is busy and one is an Unseelie. I doubt very much you'd want him included in your plans."

  Eliaster nodded.

  Aifric continued, "The third, we're still looking for. He's a bit of a loner, but also fairly easy to pay if we can find him. In the meantime, I'd be delighted if you chose to stay at my house."

  Eliaster frowned. "This is time-sensitive, Aifric."

  Aifric dipped his head in agreement. "I have a dozen people out looking for the sniffer, and that's almost more than I can spare from my own personal affairs. As you're waiting, it only makes sense for you to be in a place where you can rest comfortably and prepare for the Lost Tunnels."

  Eliaster glanced at us and shrugged.

  I raised my eyebrows. "You're going to let us make a decision?"

  "It's not a vital one, so there's no chance you guys can screw it up," he growled.

  "We'll take the offer, Aifric," David said quickly. "Thank you."

  Aifric bowed his head again, then called, "Efran!"

  A fae around my age hurried into the tent. "Sir?"

  Aifric waved at us as he turned away. "Please escort my guests to the house. Then join the search for the sniffer Dywor if the guardmaster has no further need of your help."

  "Right away, sir." Efran motioned for us to follow him and ducked out of the tent.

  We left the dead-end street and wound our way back through the Market, heading, as far as I could tell, back in the direction of the mansions we'd seen when we first entered Chicago. Efran never got too far ahead of us, but kept enough distance that made it plain that he didn't care for conversation.

  As we walked through the crowded marketplace, I kept getting bumped and jostled. At first, I put it down to how busy the place was—it seemed the streets were no bigger than the Springfield Underworld, definitely not built for the flow of people crowding them.

  Someone rammed into my back. I staggered and bounced off a scaly side. The troll shrugged me away, growling.

  "Sorry, sorry," I muttered, finding my balance. I looked around. Yards ahead of me, I caught a glimpse of Larae's turquoise striped hair as she scanned the market. "Larae!" I started to hold up my hand to gesture for her to wait for me.

  A hand grabbed my arm and forced it back down to my side.

  She must not have heard me, because she turned away.

  I turned to face the person who had grabbed me. "What the—"

  Llew dug his fingers into the pressure points of my elbow. I cringed away from him. The Unseelie wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, and I felt a small blade come to rest against my ribcage, mostly concealed by his hand.

  "Let's move," Llew murmured under his breath. "Carefully, now. Wouldn't want you to trip."

  I took a deep breath and obeyed, letting the Unseelie's hand on my arm guide me through the crowd. We cut sideways through several streets. As we navigated the narrow alleys between tents, Llew shifted the knife to press into my back. I stepped carefully over the tent ropes, not wanting to give him the slightest excuse to stick me. My mind raced. How had he found us? No one other than Tyrone and Roe knew we were coming here.

  We reached an empty street, and Llew jerked me to a stop. I stayed beside him, not fighting, and scanned the street. It truly was abandoned. The tents and booths were all closed, For Rent signs swinging above tattered doorways. Then I spotted the fae leaning in a broken-down doorway. The one who had found me at my parents' house, the one I'd dubbed Goldtooth. That metal-encased incisor flashed as the fae grinned and straightened. He leaned into the shop and said something, his voice too muffled to make out the words, then came toward us.

  Three other fae exited the shop, one of them the fair-skinned fae with a brown ponytail. I recognized him as well—he'd been one of the ones who had kidnapped Marc.

  Llew dropped his arm from my shoulders.

  Goldtooth reached us. "Hey, crow-bait." He planted his hand in the middle of my chest and shoved.

  I rocked back one step. Before I could get my arms up, Goldtooth punched me in the gut. I grunted and doubled over, wrapping my arms around my stomach. He grabbed my hair and held me down, punched into my diaphragm. Air whooshed from my lungs and I dropped to my knees. I tried to gasp in a deep breath, but my lungs felt frozen.

  "That's enough!"

  I glanced up in time to see the ponytailed fae grab Goldtooth's wrist and jerk him back from me.

  "Blodheyr doesn't want him harmed."

  "Aww, the poor little puppy," Llew said, kneeing me in the side.

  I collapsed onto my back. My torso ached, pain radiating from the places Goldtooth had hit, but my lungs were starting to work again, slowly.

  "I'm not joking," Ponytail snapped.

  Goldtooth snorted. "He's not so delicate that a couple of punches will kill him."

  "What's a broken rib or two between friends?" Llew grinned.

  The other two fae were still halfway across the street, but they were still coming. If I had any chance of getting out of this, I had to act now, even though I hadn't fully caught my breath yet.

  I rolled to my side and kicked upward, driving my heel into Llew's groin. He squealed and dropped. I drew my sword as I stood, already swinging at Goldtooth. He jumped back. Ponytail calmly stepped out of reach and drew his own sword.

  Well, at least I had someone scared.

  "Back off," I growled.

  Ponytail lunged, his sword coming in at a sharp overhand angle. I dropped down and slashed at his legs. He jumped backward just in time, my sword tip tugging the fabric of his pant leg.

  He struck again. I rolled, scrambled to my feet, and just managed to catch a third blow. The strike of the swords jarred my arm and shoulder. The fae kept coming, pushing me backward every chance he got. My vision tunneled, focusing
so narrowly on him that I barely caught the motion of a sword coming in at my side.

  I twisted to avoid it. Ponytail stuck his foot behind mine, and I crashed to the ground. Goldtooth dropped to one knee beside me and pressed his hand to my throat, his sword hovering a few inches away from my face.

  I released my sword and held up my hands. "Surrender."

  Goldtooth sneered. "Good choi—"

  A knife ricocheted off his head, opening a gash in his temple, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  I jerked away. The sword, falling with all the weight of his unconscious body behind it, drove into the dirt beside me, the body slumping over my chest.

  A tall, lanky fae in a tailed red leather jacket jumped over me, brandishing two long knives. The ponytailed fae blocked two slashes before getting a deep cut to his arm.

  As I got to my feet, I spotted Llew running at me, his sword raised and his lips drawn back in a wild snarl. I grabbed my sword from the ground and squared off, ready to face him. His swings were wild, relying on brute force. I blocked a few, waiting until he swung wide before stabbing at him.

  Llew cried out and stepped back, favoring his left leg.

  I brushed sweat and hair from my eyes and grinned.

  One of the other fae yelled in Gaelic. Llew glanced away, back at me, then turned and ran, following Ponytail and two other Unseelie down the street.

  A footstep behind me reminded me of my unwelcome guest. I spun around and raised my sword.

  The lanky fae held up his hands, fingers spread and knives balanced between thumb and palm. "Ah, c'mon. I just saved your sorry butt and this is how you thank me?"

  "Doesn't mean anything. No one has friends down here."

  He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling.

  Everything clicked into place. He was the guy Eliaster had pointed out to me at Aifric's place. I recognized the tall, spiked hair and the red leather jacket.

  "You're Coriander, right?" I asked. "A friend pointed you out."