A Host of Furious Fancies

by Mercedes Lackey

  The Unseleighe guardsmen and the human commandos watched each other intently, neither side moving. For a moment, the room was utterly silent. And in the distance, Eric heard a faint sound that had no place in Underhill.

  The sound of an engine.

  A motorcycle engine.

  Lady Day barreled through the open doorway to the throne room, vaulting the dead and scattering the living as she headed for Eric. Here in Underhill the elvensteed seemed to flicker back and forth between bike and horse, the strobe effect making Eric’s eyes hurt. Headache or not, she was the most welcome sight he’d seen in a long time. Eric started toward her—

  And Aerune froze her in place with a gesture, trapping her within a cage of flickering blue light. The elvensteed, fully in horse-form now, stamped her foot, eyes flashing dangerously as she tossed her head in frustration.

  “Move, hippie, and I drill you right now!” Lintel barked, oblivious to the byplay. “You aren’t getting away this easily. Aerune wants you, and so do I.”

  “Too bad neither of you gets him,” a new voice said coolly. “I’d put that down if I were you, Mr. Lintel.”

  Eric felt like cheering. Ria Llewellyn strode through the door, followed by Greystone. If Ria experienced any surprise at her surroundings—or the bodies all over the floor—she didn’t show it. She was wearing black leather and blue jeans, and looked deadly and confident.

  And she had a gun.

  Almost before she’d finished speaking, Lintel swept his pistol around and rapped off three shots directly at her chest.

  “Ria!” Eric shouted, aghast.

  But she didn’t fall. She staggered back against Greystone, and steadied herself against the gargoyle’s outspread wing, but she obviously wasn’t hurt. She smiled a small wintery smile at Lintel.

  “I’ve done plenty of corporate dueling in my time, but this is a little extreme,” she said. “Oh, by the way. I’m sure we haven’t met. I’m Ria Llewellyn. Your boss.”

  Then she shot Robert Lintel neatly in the knee.

  He went down screaming, dropping his gun and scattering his men in confusion. Aerune’s elven guards surged forward and stopped, uncertain of whether they should try to take advantage of the moment. One of Lintel’s men knelt to try to help him. Eric ran down the steps and made it across the throne room to Ria’s side in the confusion.

  “Glad you could make it,” he gasped.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for worlds,” Ria answered. “Get back.”

  Greystone lifted him out of the way just as a levin bolt flung by an enraged Aerune struck Ria full in the chest. It popped and sizzled, running all over her body like St. Elmo’s fire before sinking into the floor, but Ria stood her ground, as unharmed by elven magic as by mortal bullets.

  “Stainless-steel chain mail,” Ria called toward Aerune. “The least of mortal defenses. Very easy to make in the World Above—I’m sure Lintel’s men are wearing it.”

  To Eric she said: “I’m going to distract him. Can you get your steed free? We’re going to need her.”

  “I think so,” Eric answered, his voice equally low. He reached out, feeling at the edges of the spell that had trapped Lady Day. It was a simple one, the Sidhe equivalent of a locked door. Now let’s see if I can find the key.

  As he concentrated, Ria stepped forward, away from Greystone’s protection, and bowed her head, a conciliating, coaxing note entering her voice.

  “My Lord, your power is vast and mine is very small. I am no match for you alone, even with weapons and armor of deathmetal from the World Above. But the Bard and I together can hold you off indefinitely. He has powerful patrons among the Seleighe Court who would much resent any harm you might do to him, nor is the gargoyle entirely friendless. I pray you, of your great mercy, allow us three—four—to depart your kingdom unmolested. We wish no quarrel with you.”

  Aerune looked at her measuringly, resuming his seat and regarding her with bleak expressionless eyes.

  “Ria!” Eric hissed. She couldn’t be suggesting what he thought she was—just abandoning those five guys and Lintel to Aerune’s mercy? He looked behind him, through the open doors, but the rest of the Unseleighe Court seemed to have vanished; the outer room was empty. “What about Lintel and the others? We can’t just leave them here!”

  Lintel’s agonized groans seemed to fill the room, setting his teeth on edge. A shattered kneecap was just about the most painful and crippling single wound possible to inflict.

  “True,” Ria answered, her voice low. “I can’t afford to leave Lintel to strike a bargain of his own. Saddle up as soon as you can, Eric. We may be leaving quickly. Greystone, you too.”

  “Check, boss lady,” the gargoyle said.

  Aerune spoke again, a faint admiring smile upon his face.

  “Very well, halfbreed. You, the Bard and his mount, and this . . . creature . . . which accompanies you, all have my leave to depart. But the others remain. Do these terms suit you?”

  The magic around Lady Day dissolved, and the elvensteed bounded toward the doorway and Eric, changing form back into a motorbike as she did so. Aerune paid no attention. Reluctantly, Eric swung his leg over Lady Day’s saddle. The elvensteed thrummed her engine, impatient to be away.

  “They do, My Lord, and many thanks to you for your mercy,” Ria said. She raised her gun once more and fired, placing a bullet squarely between Lintel’s eyes. The corporate raider slumped to the floor, silent in death, and the commando squatting beside him reached for his gun.

  “No!” Eric was half off Lady Day’s back—though what he could do, he wasn’t sure—when the elvensteed decided she’d had enough of this part of Underhill. With a banshee scream she took off, Greystone close behind. Nothing Eric could do could slow or turn her, and at the speed she was going, he didn’t dare just jump off. Eric looked back wildly over his shoulder, catching a last glimpse of the throne room before it vanished in the distance.

  Ria stood alone before Lord Aerune.

  “You are properly ruthless, halfling,” Aerune said, getting to his feet. Though irritated by his loss, he looked intrigued as well. She’d counted more than a little on that. Elves were suckers for a grand gesture.

  Not that Aerune was a sucker in any sense of the word.

  He stepped down from his throne, and stood facing her across a tangle of bodies, Sidhe and human. With a wave of his hand, he banished them all to another part of his domain. No trace of the battle—or Lintel’s men—remained to mar the chilly perfection of his presence chamber. The doors of the throne room closed in the same moment, sealing Ria in with him.

  Aerune held out his hand to her. The black mail gauntlet gleamed in the unchanging radiance of Underhill.

  “It has been too long since I encountered anyone with such beauty who had yet the spirit to defy me. I do not think you have been properly valued by your kin, halfling, nor by the World Above. Matters could be otherwise. Have you considered—”

  “And rejected, Great Lord,” Ria answered steadily. This powerful Unseleighe Sidhe was offering her a seductive prize—his patronage, and with it, a place in Underhill. Once she could have asked for no greater reward.

  Once.

  “I want no bargain with you beyond that which I have already struck, Great Lord, though I prize your honorable offer for the tribute it is. I will go now, by your leave, and molest your realm no more. Lintel was my vassal, and he is well rewarded for his treachery. I leave you his men as my gift, to do with as you choose.”

  Taking a calculated risk, she turned her back on Lord Aerune and walked away. The doors of the throne room opened before her, and she walked out into the deserted castle. No one tried to stop her, but Ria didn’t breathe completely easily until she’d reached the nearest Portal and taken herself beyond Aerune’s reach—or at least, his immediate reach.

  I know this isn’t over. Now that he knows there’s something of value in the World Above, Aerune won’t stop until he figures out a way to get at it. But that’s a problem for
another day. Thank God for small favors.

  TWELVE:

  TO END WHERE

  WE BEGAN

  As soon as Ria reached the World Above, everything that had happened in Aerune’s court began to take on a vague air of unreality. After passing through several Portals and nearly exhausting her store of Power, she’d come out in Sterling Forest, near the Nexus of Elfhame Everforest, and had to hike more than a mile before she found a phone she could use to call a car to take her back to the city. It was late Monday evening by the time she arrived back in New York—time ran differently in the World Above, sometimes to the World Above’s benefit.

  The drive back to the City gave her a lot of time to think, mostly about the look of horror on Eric’s face as she shot Robert Lintel. There’d been no other choice, though. Aerune probably wouldn’t have let her take Lintel without a fight anyway, and if she had managed to bring him back to the World Above to face charges, the New York courts would probably have let him off on a technicality. That was the way the legal system worked when you had money and influence.

  Ria had always preferred justice to law, and she’d spoken no more than the truth to the Unseleighe lord. What Lintel had done was in some sense her responsibility. Threshold was a LlewellCo company. Lintel had worked for her. Ultimately, she was responsible for what he’d done. Now he’d paid the dead for their loss in the only way possible, with his own life, and that simplified matters. He’d never have the chance to use the information he’d gained at the cost of so many innocent lives.

  And if she had to lose Eric’s respect—and love—because of it, Ria was willing to pay that price, though it would hurt more than she liked to think.

  I might as well find out now how it’s going to be as soon as possible, she thought grimly. There was no point in waiting to get bad news.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she told the driver. “I’m not going to the Sherry. There’s a stop I want you to make first.”

  The ride from Aerune’s castle to New York passed in a dizzying blur. After the first few seconds, he’d just closed his eyes and held on tight, and finally the elvensteed had stopped.

  When he opened his eyes, the world spun giddily. Eric slid sideways off Lady Day’s saddle and into Greystone’s arms.

  “Steady there, laddybuck. Strewth, that was the wildest ride I’ve been on since I was a gleam in the stonecarver’s eye!” the gargoyle said cheerfully.

  “Yeah,” Eric said weakly. After a moment the world steadied, and he could stand on his own two feet.

  He looked around warily. He was back in New York, behind Guardian House. It seemed strange that everything looked normal. It was dark. Eric had no idea what day it was, though from the powdered-sugar snow that fell lightly all around him, it was still December.

  But what year? Not that I care right now.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Greystone said. “If ever a man could do with a stiff drink, boyo, it’s you.”

  “No,” Eric said, feeling a little better. “Not a drink. But I wouldn’t turn down a strong cup of coffee. Meet you upstairs.”

  Greystone bounded skyward with surprising grace, settling back into his place with a flourish and a bow.

  A shower and a change of clothes helped. He was still trying to sort everything out in his mind, trying to fit the events into some kind of order. Eventually he was going to have to figure out something to tell Toni and the other Guardians. They deserved to know how the story ended.

  Greystone had joined him inside, his cheerfully ugly face contorted into an expression of worry as he watched Eric move around the apartment. Finally, coffee and sandwich in hand, Eric sat down on the couch.

  “I can’t believe she did that,” he said, sighing. As much as he tried to avoid it, Eric’s thoughts kept returning to that one image of the bullet hole in the middle of Lintel’s forehead, stopping him from thinking past it. He set his sandwich down on the table untasted. She’d just shot him. No hesitation, no remorse. Bam!

  Greystone shook his head in sympathy. “I can’t either. Man, talk about cold . . . !”

  “No,” Eric said, grudgingly fair. Somehow Greystone’s putting his own thoughts into words made Eric see Ria’s side of things. “As much as I hate what she did, I think she was telling the truth. She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t leave Lintel there in Underhill alive. Believe me, he and Aerune were this close to making a deal. Cold Iron in Underhill—humans knowing about elves—magic in the World Above—it would have been . . .”

  It would have been just like my dream: New York a wasteland. Thousands—millions—dead. And Underhill . . . gone. Humans and Sidhe need each other. Our lives are too intertwined. One can’t really survive without the other. But that doesn’t mean most people need to know about Underhill, or magic, or the Nexuses, any more than they need to know how to build a nuclear warhead. Ria knew that. She did what had to be done. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. . . .

  “She could have brought him back here!” Greystone protested. “I could’a carried him. Easy!”

  Eric shook his head reluctantly and drank his coffee. The bitter warmth helped clarify his thoughts. “Then he’d be back here, alive, still knowing what he knows, with his cache of designer poison still out there somewhere. Sure, there’d be a trial, but he’d probably be out on bail while he was waiting for his court date, and that means he could escape back Underhill, strike a bargain with Aerune, or come up with something else horrible I haven’t even thought of yet. And Ria would be stuck in the middle of it—if she did anything to stop him here, she’d be the one who went to prison, not him.”

  “Maybe,” the gargoyle said grudgingly. “But I still think we should’a brought him back here and let Jimmie and the gang sort him out.”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said unhappily. Maybe that would have worked. But with the stakes so high, was it worth taking the chance? The worst of it was, he probably wasn’t going to see Ria again. He still wasn’t sure how she’d found him, but she had. She’d rescued him, given him all the help he’d asked her for, and he’d thrown it back in her face—and deserted her, even if that hadn’t exactly been his idea. He didn’t even know if she’d gotten out of Aerune’s realm alive.

  Good going, Banyon. So much for your vaunted leadership abilities.

  “I don’t even know where she is now, or if she even got out alive. Greystone, can you—”

  “Well,” Greystone said abruptly, “guess I’d better get back to work. No rest for the wicked, and all that. See you around, boyo. I’m going back on duty before anyone notices I’m AWOL.”

  “Hey,” Eric said, getting to his feet as Greystone climbed out the window. Maybe Greystone hadn’t wanted to be asked if he and the Guardians could find Ria, but that didn’t mean he had to just run off like that!

  There was a knock at the door.

  He stared after the gargoyle. The knocking continued. Thinking it was Toni, knowing that Guardian House would never allow in anything that could do its inhabitants any harm, Eric opened the door.

  Ria was standing there, still dressed in battered denim and leather. A few snowflakes lay on her hair and shoulders, melting slowly. She looked tired, uncertain of her reception.

  A vast relief filled Eric, as if he were finally able to set down a heavy load he’d been carrying, and he smiled.

  “Glad you could make it,” he said simply.

  Her face relaxed into a smile of sheer relief, as if she’d gotten good news she’d hoped for but hadn’t expected. Eric stepped back, gesturing for her to enter.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for worlds,” Ria answered.

  Later—much later—there was time to talk it all out. Ria explained the whole story from the beginning as she’d managed to piece it together, about Threshold’s black-budget project to come up with a drug that turned ordinary people into Wild Talents. How she’d tracked the project back to Threshold, found Lintel gone, and then followed Lady Day to find Eric, knowing that wherever Lintel was, he,
too, would be hot on Eric’s trail.

  “I still don’t like what you did,” Eric said. “It wasn’t the only solution. We could have taken him to the Seleighe Sidhe, made him their problem. . . .”

  Ria shrugged. “I don’t know that I trust them with Lintel anymore than I did Aerune. He was too much of a wild card. This was more expedient.”

  Eric already knew he wanted Ria to stay a part of his life. But if he let her set the terms for their relationship, they’d still be in the same situation they’d been back in L.A., and that wouldn’t work for him.

  “If we’re going to stay together, you’re going to have to promise me that if we get into any more situations, you won’t do the expedient thing anymore,” he said firmly, but inside he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

  She regarded him with a raised eyebrow, for a frozen moment looking more elvish than she did human. At last she smiled faintly.

  “I’ll offer you a compromise, m’love. I won’t do the expedient thing without consulting you and letting you have a chance to convince me otherwise. Have we a bargain, O great Sidhe Bard?”

  Eric thought about it for a moment. Things had changed between them, he realized. He wasn’t her pet. She wasn’t his lackey. They were equal partners. He found he liked the idea very much.

  “That’ll work. I’ll be your conscience,” he answered.

  “Just like Jiminy Cricket,” Ria said mockingly. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and got to her feet. “Don’t forget the cricket spent most of the movie as a ghost.”

  “I’m not worried,” Eric said contentedly.

  Ria smiled, looking younger and softer—and somehow hopeful, as if she’d been offered a new beginning.

  “And now, the police are probably looking for me—and I’ll bet you need to come up with an explanation for playing hooky from school today. I’ll probably be out of touch for a while, but don’t worry. Watch for me on the news. Then give me a call and we’ll have dinner. We’ve still got a lot of loose ends to chase down.”