“Yeah, I know. They’re waiting upstairs in the meeting room. I don’t envy you, lad. Not in the least.” Ginty’s voice was gruff, but a sympathetic look crossed his face. He glanced down the bar at the rest of us. “Viktor, Yutani, merry meet. Talia, how are you, sweet cheeks?”
Talia snorted. “Good as ever, Ginty. And it’s good to see you, too.” She winked at him. “Any time you decide to fly solo, just let me know.” But she laughed as she said it.
“You know it, girl. But Ireland would have me by the balls if I thought of it.”
Herne grinned as he introduced the rest of us. “Ginty, this is Ember Kearney.”
“Before you ask,” I said, “yes, I’m a tralaeth.” Everybody blinked, but I mustered up my courage. “I’ve decided to just reclaim the fucking word and make it my own.”
Tralaeth meant someone of half–Dark Fae, half–Light Fae parentage and was used as a slur, an insult that meant tainted blood. But I had decided that I wasn’t going to accept it in that manner any more. I was who I was, and the purists of the Fae community could kiss my ass.
“Well then,” Ginty said, a smile slowly crossing his face. “That makes matters easier. But be aware, Ember Kearney, I do not allow racial epitaphs to slung around the bar, so if someone uses that word against you in a way not to your liking, tell me.”
I held his gaze for a moment, and in the depths of his eyes, I saw time unfolding. Ginty was old, as old as the mountains that were his home. I had no idea where he had originally come from, but in those summer-blue eyes of his, compassion and understanding mingled with a glint of gold. He felt as solid as the mountains, and as sturdy as the tall timber of the forests. He searched my eyes and what he found, I could not know, but he seemed satisfied as he turned away to greet the others.
Herne reached out and stroked my hand.
“So, they are waiting for you. Shall we go up? I will join you, given I can best defuse any hostilities not permitted beneath this roof.” He turned around to the door out of which he had come and called, “Wendy?”
A hulk of a woman immediately popped out. She was at least six-two, and her hair was bound back in a similar braid. She was golden brown, and wore leather pants and a tank top that fit her form so well I could see the six-pack beneath it. Her biceps put mine to shame, and she strode out to Ginty’s call.
“Watch the bar. I’ll be up in the meeting room with our guests.” Ginty handed her the bar rag and Wendy said nothing, just nodded.
Herne motioned for us to follow Ginty as we headed toward the stairs. The steps were roped off, but Ginty waved his hand over the rope and whispered something. The rope opened on its own, then closed again behind us. I glanced at it as we passed by. It looked almost like a snake or some eel-like creature. I had the feeling it sensed my scrutiny, and I thought about touching it, but my hand wouldn’t move and I realized that my self-preservation instinct was warning me to keep my fingers to myself.
There were four steps to a landing before the stairs turned to the left. Fog rolled through the passage as we ascended the staircase, and after a moment, it occurred to me that we should be at roof level by then, yet the steps kept going. I wondered what happened if somebody couldn’t climb the stairs, but decided that they must have figured out some fix for that.
The walls of the stairwell were difficult to see, though the railing was easy to find. The fog rolled around us, a swirling vapor that tangled around our ankles and clouded our sight. I reached out, trying to touch the moisture in it, but it quickly became apparent that this fog was magical. It wasn’t made of water vapor at all.
Another moment and Ginty vanished through an opening at the top of the passage, and then Herne, and then we were all through, standing in a long hallway. The hallway stretched three doors down on either side, to a door at the end that seemed to be glowing from behind the solid wood. Ginty led us to the first door on the left. There was a bronze glyph hanging off the doorknob, and he touched his hand to it. There was a click as the door swung ajar. The dwarf turned to us, gave us a nod, and pushed open the door.
THE FIRST THING I saw when we entered the room was a U-shaped table. On the left side, center, sat a woman who had to be Névé. She was dressed in pale green, a gossamer gown that swathed her in layers of translucent veils, embroidered with metallic gold flowers, and pops of red. Her hair was spun platinum, caught up in a tall chignon, held in place with a glittering emerald and diamond tiara. Emerald earrings hung from her ears, and a matching necklace. A solitary emerald the size of a silver dollar on a chain encircled her neck. Her eyes were dark, as brown as rich dirt, with flecks of gold, and her lips formed a brilliant red bow. She crackled with the smells of fire and summer heat and lightning.
To the right, opposite of Névé, sat Saílle. Where Névé was summer and heat, Névé was winter and ice. Saílle wore a silk gown, cinched at her waist with a low sweetheart neck that emphasized her bust. The silk shimmered with crystal beads that mimicked stars across an indigo expanse of sky. With every movement, the beads scintillated, scattering rainbow prisms. Saílle’s hair hung loose and curling, a halo that surrounded her like a cloak. Black as my own, black as a raven, it cascaded down her back. She, too, wore a tiara, composed of brilliant sapphires mingled with diamonds, and around her throat was a choker—five strands of amethyst beads, and amethyst chandelier earrings hung from her ears. Saílle’s eyes were the color of blue ice flecked with hoar frost, and the steady sound of the wind howling on autumn nights echoed from her aura.
I stared at them, unable to look away. I had never imagined what kind of power the queens of my bloodlines must have. I had imagined them merely as petty dictators, squabbling women in a perpetual catfight. I had never envisioned the amount of power that flowed through this room. The walls reverberated with their magic.
Herne was standing beside me, and even he seemed affected. He caught his breath as he gazed at the two Fae Queens, then bowed deeply, nudging me. I did my best to follow suit, all my anger fading as it was replaced by a healthy fear of what they could do to me. Viktor and Yutani also bowed, and Talia lowered herself into a curtsey.
Ginty, however, seemed less affected. He strode to the front, where he nodded, then took his place at the center. Herne followed him, along with the rest of us, and we took our places on either side of the dwarf. I sat beside Herne, while Talia, Yutani, and Viktor sat on the other side.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Névé or Saílle. Their power crept through the room like a thief, sneaking into every nook and crevice, surrounding every chair and filling every corner. It vibrated and sang, a resonant melody from Névé and a deep bass harmony from Saílle. Their powers clashed and collided, and yet they made up a single song that made me want to cry. My reaction both frightened me and humbled me. It frightened me because neither one of them thought I should exist. And it humbled me because they could snuff me out like a candle flame.
Ginty stood. He cleared his throat and held up what looked like a golden wand with a dark crystal on the end of it. “I hereby declare the Lughnasadh Parley of the Courts of Light and Darkness, in the year 10,258 CFE, open. Under this mantle, all members are bound to forswear bearing arms against any other member of this parley until the meeting is officially closed and all members are safely home. I also remind the Courts of Light and Darkness that they are forsworn by the Covenant of the Wild Hunt from inflicting injury on any and all members of the Wild Hunt team, under the sigil of Cernunnos, Lord of the Forest, and Morgana, Goddess of the Sea and the Fae. Let no one break honor, let discussions progress civilly, and remember that I—Ginty McClintlock, of the McClintlock Clan of the Cascade Dwarves—am your moderator and mediator, and my rule as such supersedes all other authority while we are in this Waystation.”
He paused, then held up what looked like an extremely long scroll, covered in fine print and appearing to be very old. “If you stay, you agree to the rules. If you disagree, leave now, or be bound to the parley. I
have spoken, and so it is done.”
I blinked. Essentially, Ginty had just given us the terms of service contract. By staying in our seats, we were clicking “I Agree.”
Another heartbeat, and no one moved.
“Then, I open the parley to Herne, son of Cernunnos.” Ginty put the wand back on the table and sat down again.
Herne cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat. “The Wild Hunt is here at the bequest of Névé and Saílle. We know the barebones of your issue, but please give us an in-depth description of what has happened. I trust you have brought your healers with you so they might give us the facts as they know them?”
Névé and Saílle had been staring straight at us the entire time. Now, Névé reluctantly glanced at Saílle. The look on her face was unreadable but somehow, I didn’t think she was thrilled to be here. She inclined her head at the Dark Queen.
Saílle returned the look and, again, the slow nod. She turned to Herne.
“My healers came to me a week ago when they first began noticing the problem. A strange illness had hit our populace, and lives were beginning to fall. At first, we thought it merely a few isolated cases. But then, people began to take ill at a faster rate, and each time, the end result was death. We’ve had twenty-five deaths so far, and we have at least another dozen ill with the same disease.”
Névé waited a beat, and when it was apparent that Saílle had stopped talking, she said, “Ours is a similar story, only we’ve had eighteen deaths and we have twenty in the wards right now. Nothing our healers have been able to do has helped. It’s obvious that something serious is wrong, and that our city is under siege. We had thought, initially, that it was an attack from TirNaNog, but they are suffering the same fate and we no longer believe that.”
Saílle looked at her and, for the first time since we had arrived, spoke to her directly. “You thought we were attacking you, and we thought you were attacking us. Perhaps someone looking to set us on each other? It’s obvious to me that both of our great cities are in danger from an outside source.”
Herne held up his hand, then stopped, picked up the golden wand, and held it up. “What makes you think this is an attack rather than a natural outbreak sweeping through the Fae community?”
Neither Fae Queen seemed to agree.
Névé shook her head. “I would be more inclined to agree if my healers could identify the disease. But this contagion, whatever it is, eludes the scope of my medical community. M’Saílle, what of your opinion?”
Saílle shrugged. “The same. My healers have no clue what’s going on or why the people are dying. The symptoms are violent and painful, and so those things alone bind me over to thinking that someone has planted it in the midst of our community.”
“What are the symptoms?” Herne asked, motioning for me to take notes.
Saílle gestured to the man sitting next to her. “Val, if you would?”
The man stood. He looked around my age but I had the feeling he was far older. Once the Fae reached thirty to thirty-five, the aging process slowed. I would look like I did now for centuries to come, unless I allowed myself to get out of shape. But time’s stamp would slow to a crawl, barely ticking along with the passing years.
Val bowed to Névé’s side of the room, then to us.
“I am the lead healer for the Court of Darkness. To answer your questions, the symptoms of my patients have been a high fever, vomiting, and nausea. This leads into vomiting blood, abdominal pain, ulcerations in the back of the throat. Within a few days this turns into bleeding ulcers in the stomach, then seizures begin to break out. Blisters and boils erupt on the skin, and finally, coma and death.”
“How quickly do the symptoms progress?” Viktor asked.
Val glanced at him. “The symptoms progress quickly, so quickly that we are powerless in the face of them. We’ve tried every remedy we can think of, but nothing has done any good. The disease is contagious, though we haven’t yet pinpointed how it’s spread. It doesn’t seem to affect every person who comes into contact with those who are ill, and we haven’t been able to pinpoint what factors make some more susceptible than others.”
I thought over what he said.
Névé’s healer—at least I assumed that’s who she was—stood on the other side of the room.
“My name is Jena, and I’m the primary medic for the Court of Light. I concur with my colleague. That’s precisely how the symptoms have been progressing among our people. We, too, have tried everything we can think of to stop or slow the progression, but to no avail. We have cordoned off the ill in hopes that we can prevent the disease’s spread, but until we know how it’s passed from patient to patient, I’m afraid nothing will do any good.”
I cleared my throat, nervous about speaking. Névé and Saílle and their healers wouldn’t take kindly to me, I already knew that. But I had thought of what seemed like an important question.
“Excuse me, but it occurs to me that the patients who initially contracted the disease had to have something in common. Do you have any clue of what they might have all done or ate, or anyplace they might have gone together. It might enable us to figure out where ground zero for the disease was.”
Saílle stared at me long and hard. She looked offended, and I had the feeling she was going to ignore my question, but Val spoke up.
“After three patients came in with the same complaints, we started asking them where they had been. I first thought they might have some form of food poisoning and wanted to make certain that we put a stop to it. What I found out is that four of the initial patients attended Fae Day. That was the one common denominator.”
“Fae Day. Of course,” Talia said.
Fae Day was a local festival celebrated at the Farmers Market, located dead center between the TirNaNog and Navane. The Fae from both courts came together to eat and drink and play games and whatever else might be on the agenda. Although Fae Day was a truce festival when both Light and Dark agreed to lay down their battles during the day, I never attended. The generosity of spirit didn’t extend to my kind. It was always celebrated two weeks before the festival of Lughnasadh as a pre-harvest festival.
I glanced at my calendar.
Today was actually Lughnasadh, so Fae Day had to have been a couple weeks before.
A Celtic festival of sacrifice, Lughnasadh was considered the first harvest—the harvest of grains, and was a reminder that the grain god died at this time of year to sacrifice his body so that people might live through the long winters. It was celebrated by the Fae and humans alike, although most humans had long forgotten what it was. Time had a way of twisting festivals and so did conquering nations. I usually didn’t go out of my way to mark it in any major fashion, but I always remembered what the day stood for.
“Who ran Fae Day this year?” Herne asked. “I keep meaning to attend one of these years, but it always seems to slip my calendar and Morgana, my mother, forgets to remind me.” The way he casually dropped his mother’s name was a power play. Even I could see that and I wasn’t all that astute with politics.
Ginty frowned, glancing at a folder of notes in front of him. “Fae Day is funded by both Courts, but it’s run by a neutral third party—a small organization handpicked by your mother. They’re called the CMO—the Courts Management Organization. I’m not sure who’s in charge at this point, but Morgana handpicks every person on there and they’re all deemed acceptable to both Courts.”
Névé let out a snort. “The CMO pokes its nose in where it’s not wanted, but we aren’t given a choice. It’s part of the grand covenant.”
“That grand covenant allows you to remain here and not be deported across the Great Sea,” Herne said, a warning in his voice. His eyes flashed as he stood, staring at the Queen of Light. “Do not abjure that which my mother sees as necessary or you may find yourself on a boat sailing for home.”
“Your mother. Yes, your mother would do just that. But, Lord of the Hunt, the
Light Fae agreed to the covenant centuries ago, and we hold by it, even though we may not like it. The world was a simpler place when humans were fewer, and we were allowed to exercise our full powers.” Névé turned to Saílle, smiling coolly. “What say you, Darkest Star?”
Saílle returned the smile, fox to the fox. “I say that we miss our old ways, but in this world, sadly, we must abide by agreements. However, one good turn deserves another. Let Morgana and Cernunnos have their day in the sun. The night still belongs to all creatures lurking in the shadows. And we never know what the future holds.”
The tensions in the room bristled as a silent conversation seemed to unfold. I couldn’t hear the words, but I could sense the implications and cautiously watched the three-way standoff between Herne and the two Fae Queens.
Ginty stood, holding up the scepter again. “House rules. Remember, all of you.”
“Politics will never be far behind when it comes to the Fae, Ginty. Accept it and move on. But I suggest we continue on with the parley.” Herne kept eye contact with the Fae Queens even as he answered the dwarf.
“Where were we, then?” Névé broke the impasse.
“Val was stating that the one thing the first few patients had in common was they all attended Fae Day,” Ginty answered.
“Oh, yes,” the Queen of Light said. “Jena?”
Her healer nodded. “That was our experience as well. Our first four patients had spent the day at the festival. I asked them what they ate, in case it was food poisoning, and the only dish they had in common was the ginger chicken.” She motioned to Val. “Did you, perchance, ask the same of your patients?”
Val blanched. “I did, and the answer is the same as yours. We had five initial patients, and they all ate the ginger chicken. That was the one thing we could find in common that they had consumed. Of course, it could be contact with someone there that set it off, but it seemed a place to begin. I assumed, for a few days, that it was simply food poisoning, but then the cases began to multiply and the latter patients hadn’t eaten the food, and several of them hadn’t even attended the festival.”
Iron Bones Page 6