“Not unless you’re part of the job. I don’t work for free.”
A moment of silence ensued. I had the impression that Puck was busy reexamining his first evaluation of me.
Jack stalked on past Puck. I followed, my stride more relaxed than his. I knew of Puck, prankster extraordinaire, and while I wasn’t surprised that he had wound up in a position to owe someone service, I was amazed at the thought of anyone successfully enforcing his payment of such a debt. Then I thought of someone successfully demanding the cooperation of Fetch. I decided then to stay on my best behavior with the Lady.
We stepped through a rainbow of flowers that wreathed the dropped drawbridge, while below brilliant colors of myriad fish burned through the clear, sparkling waters of the moat. Beautiful, like all things of Faerie, and like all things of Faerie, every flower had its poisoned thorns. In the depths of those clear waters I could see golden fish swimming lazily through the clean, white lines of stripped bone.
We stepped out of the light and into the glittering light of the keep itself. A gentler sparkle relieved the stress of Faerie’s relentless light, and countless diamond pinpoints shone against umber stone as if some Faerie craftsman had stolen pieces of star-filled evening to hang as tapestries in the Lady’s hall.
I felt Blade twitch, responding to my rising concern. I had seen the splendor of the Royal Sidhe courts and the power of Faerie Principalities, and this place was second to nothing I had seen. I opened my senses slightly. Instead of the overwhelming roar of the competing essences of many Sidhe Lords and Ladies, I felt instead a controlled threnody, like a subtle and mighty choir of voices all raised in orchestrated gentle lamentation. My sorcerer’s sight adjusted as we walked, tuning itself to the harmonies of that place. The movement of inhuman, ghostly wraiths swam around Jack and me through currents of power like the fishes in the moat we had passed over. They danced a choreographed routine in time to the unheard music of that place, attending to errands and tasks I could not fathom, but that I knew must exist by the very purpose of their motion.
I began to understand what I had walked into. The metallic taste of fear rose in the back of my throat. I clamped down on the stirring Blade. “Stay low, but wary.”
I felt his response, as well as the gentle awakening of the other Captains of my Legion. It gave me some reassurance, empty though it might have been, to know that they were ready. Even waking the Sleepers would have been of little help in that place.
We crossed through the entry hall into a vast room. Huge spheres turned ponderously in distant corners, dappling everything in the room with silver light. She waited in the center of the room, bathing in the light. Her arms opened wide. She turned slowly, suspended in thick tides of brilliance. I tried to think of how she might be described. More than merely inhuman in her perfection of form and feature, looking upon her could only be compared to looking on some vast and overpowering phenomenon, like the explosion of a star. Of course, the fact that I could taste both degree and kind of the power radiating from her like light from the sun may have had something to do with that.
As she turned to face us, clothed only in the light, I felt not the slightest stirring of lust. Mortal terror can be a remarkable anti-aphrodisiac. I had never looked on such raw power unveiled, though I had seen glimpses of it in Lugh. But then, Lugh had bothered to be subtle. She opened her eyes, and looked into mine. I shivered and deliberately dropped my gaze.
That was the most difficult thing I had ever done.
When she spoke, her voice reached out to stroke each nerve ending in my body individually. With effort, I deliberately recalled what I had seen swimming in her eyes before I had torn my gaze away. Down boy. Black widows had nothing on her. “Zethus. I am pleased that you have come here to me.”
“Lady.” I swallowed, thought about a cigarette and quickly discarded the idea. I didn’t think I could pull it off, and this wasn’t the time for half measures. “What could you possibly want from me?”
She laughed. “I need a human sorcerer, Zethus. You come highly recommended.”
I pulled my hat low, risking a quick look from under the brim. “I hate to tell you this, but I can’t do anything for you that you can’t do better. I’ve never met a Fae sorcerer before, but you have more power and control locked away here than I have ever seen. Lady.”
She dimpled. “Why thank you. The clarity of your vision confirms my selection of you for this task. But as you said yourself, my power is locked away here. I am a creature of place, Zethus. I need your human mobility. And more than that, I need your human immunity to the fires of the bones of the earth.”
I nodded, though I had never heard iron described in quite that way. “What do you want done for you?”
“A small thing. A trifle. I have a nuisance on the border of my demesne that I would be rid of.”
My eyebrows shot skyward. “And you want me for this?”
Her teeth gleamed like pearls, small, even and slightly pointed. “You have unique qualities I wish to use.”
I nodded encouragingly. “Like a lack of sensitivity to the presence of iron.”
A hint of disapproval touched her perfect features, like a cloud moving across the face of the sun. “On the border of my domain furthest from the heart of Faerie, the flesh of the earth has pulled away from the bones. That place is … uncomfortable for my servants, and limits my vision. For us, the flames of the Mother’s fiery birth still rage in the bones of the earth.”
I relaxed slightly. “You have a pest control problem. I would expect that this spirit has no trouble with iron, and reason to bear you no good will. Is it a ghost, by chance?”
She smiled. “You mean the spirit of a mortal man, clinging to this place with a strength born of desperate fury and a hot thirst for revenge?”
“Something like that.” I kept most of the dryness from my voice.
“Then you know my problem.”
“Your messenger told me fifty golden hours for hearing the proposal. How much to complete the job?”
She waved one hand casually. “Another fifty to join the first.”
I kept my voice steady. “Anything special I should know? Ghost of a sorcerer, ghost of a saint, that sort of thing?”
She shook her head slowly. “As I told you, my sight is limited in that place. I have little direct knowledge of the nature of this ghost. Will you do this for me?”
I tried not to let naked greed show on my face. Fifty golden hours was the reason I had delayed Corvinus. One hundred golden hours was a princely sum—nearly a century of hard labor for a Silver like myself. A job like this meant more than that, even. It could change my rank with the Bank of Hours from Silver to Gold. No more scraping for rejuvenation treatments and slowly losing ground against the inevitable hand of time. One Hundred golden hours could buy me more than a mortal lifetime of rejuvenation treatments. I knew the job couldn’t be easy, not if she were offering that kind of compensation, but then I never had been given the opportunity to earn that kind of compensation.
I licked my lips, already considering how to attack the problem. Scout first, case the situation, determine what additional resources I might need … “I’ll do it. When do you want me to begin?”
Her face closed off to a mask of ice. “You have fifty hours to complete the task.”
I felt a sinking sensation in my innards. Trapped by my own greed. “You said nothing of a time limit.”
She continued speaking as if I weren’t even present, all pretense at courtesy abandoned. “I will take you as far as I can. Beyond that, it’s up to you.”
One hand lifted. I felt the world twist around me even as I sputtered protests. Too late, of course, to do me any good. The exchange and contract would already have been registered with CrossTown’s Bank of Hours. As well as providing an equitable means of exchange in the chaos of CrossTown’s measureless economy, the Bank of Hours acted as a nearly inviolate keeper of transactions. Break a deal registered through the Bank of Hours, a
nd you can’t transact with them again. Ever. Crossing the Bank was a one-way ticket out of CrossTown’s economy of service.
I looked up at barren, red-streaked hills, and cursed my avarice. If I didn’t meet the terms of the contract, more than my fee would be forfeit. Indemnities could be crushing, given the size of the fee.
Corvinus had always reminded me to read the fine print. I was young, as CrossTown sorcerers go, with no more than a hundred and fifty subjective years in that place, and already I had earned my way to a silver rating—in large part because I had been willing to brave hazards. I had been one of the lucky few whose skills transposed well into CrossTown’s peculiar economy of services, since no matter what shore of the seas of possibility you find yourself washing up on, sorcerers of any significant strength are a rare commodity. But I needed to be ranked higher, I needed to move further faster, because only a Gold could afford to live comfortably and pay for the regular seeds of immortality.
A shadow fell across my path. A hand dropped to my shoulder. “I have to say, I’m impressed with your strength. Most don’t display that much composure in a private audience with Titania. All but the Lords of the Fae don’t handle themselves as well as you did.”
My mouth twisted. I had handled myself right into a deadly situation. The presence of Fetch was no accident. “What now?”
One long finger indicated the path before us that wound up into the hills. “Your prey lies there. I will wait here until you return, or until fifty hours have passed in this place. And then I will come for you.”
I looked into his eyes, and found what I expected. If I took too long, Jack would provide the indemnity. I had no illusions about evading him. He would find me, eventually, and take his due.
I turned away from the amused patience in his face and set my feet on the path into the Iron Hills.
CHAPTER V
A WIND as thin and cold as the blade of an assassin’s knife whispered through the bare hills. I turned the collar up on my long coat, wishing I had dressed more for warmth and less for style, and listened. The wind spoke in a soft, mysterious voice that trembled at the edge of comprehension.
I detected no taint of any spirit. I shook my head disgustedly. Any hope of a quick and easy end to this had already died an untimely death.
I touched Blade, confirming that he stood ready at the doorways of my spirit, his forces marshaled to repel any sudden spiritual attack, then called on the White Wolf. “What do you think, hunter?”
“I think you’ve lost your mind, accepting a deal like this,” the White Wolf snarled. “Do you have any idea how many square miles of rusty land we’ll need to search?”
I couldn’t find it in me to upbraid him for his insolence. He was right, after all. “Call up a pack. Use what resources you need to search this land in sections.”
The White Wolf reared back, his black eyes widening. “You trust me that far? Or are you that desperate?”
I dropped the veils that cloaked my will and regarded him without pretense.
He crouched, bowing his head and tucking his tail under his belly. Hoarfrost whitened the ground at my feet. “I will do as you say.”
I felt nearly a third of the Legion rise to follow as the White Wolf flung himself into the air. Others stirred restlessly, Faerie spirits uncomfortable in the presence of so much iron. I calmed them, my will turning slowly inward around the most uneasy, pressing them down to somnolent quiescence.
My attention turned to my interior world; I had no warning of an external attack. The first blow fell as an explosion of heat behind my right ear. I turned and fell back, the world spinning around me, my vision narrowing to an enormously wide and solid figure, rushing at me with all the freight train irresistibility of an avalanche. I tried to raise my hands in futile defense as his clenched fist swelled to fill my sight …
… I looked out into the darkness. A solitary figure rose from the ranks. Blade stood as straight as his namesake as he mounted the steps to the central tower where I took my accustomed seat, overlooking the expanse of the fortress of my spirit. A place of power I had built over the years of memory and hope, the fortress of my spirit served as the center of my will. All sorcerers had such a place of power deep within their own psyches. Even as my enemy had taken me physically, I had retreated within to my only remaining safe place.
Cold fire burned in Blade’s eyes as he knelt at my feet. “I failed you. I failed to account for the merely physical.”
I shook my head, wincing, an echo of the pain remaining even in this place. “The White Wolf and his searchers missed him. I believe he had defenses of his own. He was prepared.”
“You suspect a trap, then?”
“Oh, I’m certain it was a trap.” I smiled mirthlessly. “I’m simply debating whether the Lady Titania was a part of it.”
Blade’s burning eyes narrowed. “You think perhaps she acted in the interest of Silverhand?”
“Difficult to say.” I examined the assembled Host, counted the empty ranks of the White Wolf’s searchers, and noted that the White Rose had taken her own gentler forces and had begun the difficult work of speeding up the natural healing processes of my body. A sweet, light scent rose with the White Rose’s ministrations. I pushed the distraction aside and focused on the matters at hand. “Not with Silverhand’s knowledge, I think. He has always preferred the more straightforward path. But as a peace offering, perhaps. Or a gift. Truly, I do not understand the Lords of the Sidhe well enough to be sure. You knew your brethren better than I ever will. What do you think?”
“We do not have enough pieces of the puzzle,” Blade said. “But I do not see Silverhand’s direct presence in this.”
I sensed the locks on the doors of consciousness weakening. I took a last moment to reassure Blade. I didn’t want his guilt over his fear of iron to interfere with his duties. “Watch well, Captain.”
He bowed. I took my leave, rising up through the smoldering layers of awareness, toward the light of the waking world. I steeled myself, fighting resistance to my awakening, laying my will on the barriers until the locks burst open and the doors of consciousness stood wide before me. At the last, my body fought against an early waking, my limbs responding sluggishly. Pain strengthened as I awoke, until ragged streamers of heat curled through my head and neck. Under that rose the light, floral scent of the White Rose, working gently to ease the source of my pain.
I waited until I could feel the position of my limbs as I lay sprawled on my back against the cold surface of the hills. I did not stir, but opened my eyes slowly to narrow slits. Without turning my head, I spotted my attacker taking his ease on a nearby rocky outcropping.
He grinned at me, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth. “You’re a sneaky one.”
I opened my eyes fully, blinking against the light and the pain. My head pounded like a kettledrum in a Tchaikovsky composition. The side of my face felt hot and swollen. I studied my captor, a blocky humanoid the height of a very large man, with narrow, carnivorous features and dead, gray skin. He wore only a jaunty cap, colored the dull, rusty brown of dried blood. His eyes were narrow, ruddy slits, and his hands were the size of shovel blades, the broad fingers tipped with thick, yellow nails like claws.
I licked my lips and said nothing as my pain slowly diminished. I tried to stir, but a powerful force held me trapped and immobile, my limbs held to the rock as if pinned under some vast, unseen weight. I reached for the Legion. They lay beyond my touch, invisible bonds barring more than my limbs. I took a moment to consider before answering him coolly. “Actually, I thought my approach fairly straightforward.”
“Not your approach. The insurance.” He indicated the swirling patterns visible where my sleeve had ridden up to bare a forearm. “If I hadn’t felt them so strongly, I might have made the mistake of killing you and releasing them. And I think those are not restricted to the merely spiritual.”
I realized then that my senses had not been bound. Though I could feel the White Wolf ru
nning back to me on wings of the air, I could not sense my adversary on any level other than the physical. He had defenses against sorcery. “You have the right of it,” I said. “The Sleepers are my insurance policy. That kind of insurance doesn’t work unless everyone knows that they’re there, so I advertise them. And you are also right about the nature of the insurance. Once wakened, the Sleepers wouldn’t need to find your soul to take you apart. Though they would track it down anyway, after they had finished with your physical shell. The Sleepers have broad … appetites. Tindalans are thorough. Even if you’ve given your soul into the safekeeping of another, your Soulkeeper cannot have hidden your essence well enough that the hounds could not find it.”
His grin faded. “Tindalans? How many? A pack?”
“A swarm,” I said modestly. “And the command on them isn’t literal. Leaving me to die of exposure or starvation will still have them howling out after you. And they’ll be hungry when they awake.”
“As I thought,” he said heavily. “I’ll have to send you away rather than re-dye my cap. Pity.”
I swallowed. Redcaps were not gentle in acquiring the blood they used for dye. The Tindalans had been a fortunate threat for me more than once. Acquiring them had been something of a graduation exercise in Corvinus’s eyes. I thought of them as a practical badge of honor. In this case they had proven their worth once again. I would undoubtedly have been a source of hat dye had I not had them, and I had higher ambitions than that.
The redcap looked up, scanning the sky. I could hear the Wolf howling his hunt in the distance. “Time we moved.”
I would have called to the Wolf, for the hunters’ absence reduced my strength sorely, but I still could not touch anything beyond my immediate senses. I tried the strength of my bonds as the redcap rose from his rock. “Who’s your keeper?” I asked casually.
He laughed. “I never bothered with one. I’ll take my chances not owing allegiance to any Power or Principality. I haunt the fringes. I prosper well enough, in this place, outside the reach of any Faerie Lord or Lady, free to seek my prey as I will. I will admit that you’ll be the first to leave my hills alive. My usual visitors provide me fresh meat on a regular basis, and give me blood for my cap. Mortal blood is best. It keeps the sting of iron fully at bay. But any blood will do.”
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