’nk you!
“You’re welcome.”
The big man scratched fingers across his freshly shaven head, his dragon scales armor gleaming in the sun. The newly repaired magic sword at his belt gave a sniff and wriggled in her sheath.
At least justice has been done. The sword’s voice brimmed with self esteem. A Justicar! A dealer of justice! Ours is a most satisfying profession.
“Quite.” The Justicar poured good dark ale from his own flask, passing little thimble cups to Lord Faen and Escalla’s father. The two faeries sat cross legged on the mossy log, frowning as they tested the alien drink and finding the earthy taste a bit puzzling. Lord Nightshade drained his cup then held it out for more, while Lord Faen quietly put his own drink aside.
Patting Cinders between the ears, the Justicar watched the two faerie lords as he refilled the small thimble-cup.
“Did you find him?”
Who? Benelux jittered in her sheath. Who? Who?
Lord Nightshade spared the sword a long suffering glance and turned to the Justicar. “He was found sheltering on a Clan Sable estate in the middle of Elysium. I believe a full confession will not be necessary.”
Who was found in Elysium? Benelux rattled her sheath in anger. I say! If we are going to be a partnership, you must allow me into your confidence! How else can you ben’fit from my wealth of good advice?
“The murderer.” Jus sighed and poured himself an ale. “He was found in Elysium.”
Benelux jittered. But… but the murderer was that wretched girl, the one who tried to unleash that demon! The one who looks like your partner—only with bigger breasts!
“You can’t murder something that’s already dead.” Lord Faen decided to risk the beer and took a sip. “The body had been dead for hours before the cone shell was used. Remember the pooled blood? The unbleeding wound? No. Tielle wasted her efforts there. Tarquil had been gone for hours.”
The Justicar spared a droll glance down at his sword. “You found nothing odd in the fact that Tarquil slept peacefully right through a striptease?”
I know nothing about such things. The sword gave a prim little sniff I suppose it might be possible.
“Escalla dancing half-naked is a pretty good recipe for waking someone up.” The Justicar drank from his flask. “No. The body had already been poisoned. Escalla was framed. Tielle’s assassination attempt was simple coincidence. She wanted to stop Clan Nightshade from returning to the Seelie Court before she could finish her plans to release the Queen of Wind and Woe.”
Annoyed, Benelux jiggled up and down. So who killed Tarquil?
Jus, Lord Faen, and Lord Nightshade all looked at the sword as though she were an idiot.
“Why, Tarquil did!” said Faen.
There was a long, somewhat smug silence between the three men. Finally Lord Nightshade helped himself to another beer.
“You see, my dear, Tarquil’s life was hanging on a thread. Too many vendettas had been declared upon him. It seemed a good idea to lie low. His uncle, Lord Ushan, wanted the alliance with Clan Nightshade stopped, so they concocted this little affair. They cloned Tarquil and killed the copy, hoping to frame Escalla for Tarquil’s murder. In a few years, Tarquil would have reappeared claiming to be a clone, inherited his own estates, but still would not have been legally responsible for the deaths his previous self had caused in duels.” Escalla’s father brimmed with richly deserved satisfaction. “A horrible scandal if it should come out. Clan Sable is therefore giving us foil support for our return to the Seelie Court, as well as abandoning a few strategic offices to other, wiser heads…”
Benelux hummed and hawed. But what of Tarquil? He planned to frame Escalla. Surely some sort of justice must be done?
“Ah.” Faen stroked at his goatee. “Well, we wondered about that. Unfortunately, someone broke into his prison, polymorphed him into a mouse, and punted him though a faerie gate that leads to the beast kingdom of cats. He was last seen in a scrying spell, running like a champion!” Faen scowled. “Which reminds me. Where was your daughter last night, Lord Nightshade?”
“I have two daughters,” Charn replied innocently. “Which one do you mean?”
“Why, Escalla, of course, the one still in solid form.”
“Safely at her prayers, Lord Faen.”
“Ah, quite so.” The goateed faerie smiled knowingly.
Tielle had been carried off in a bucket to be imprisoned by the Seelie Court. She was alive but was going through some bad days.
Lolth had lost her current body on this plane, and it would take months for her to make another, by which time her hangover might even have gone. Certainly the Nightshade key would have been re-hidden by then. All’s well that ends well.
Jus corked his drinking flask and said, “I must insist you abandon your plans to force Escalla into marriage. She served the court well. She deserves her own will in the matter.”
“Oh yes, of course. Our stock is rather high in court right now.” Nightshade gave a genial smile. “The Erlking thinks rather highly of us. My wife’s claws are clipped. Life will be a bit more… effervescent from now on.”
“You will be returning to the Seelie Court?”
“In a sense. The Seelie Court is coming out of retirement. There will be more faeries wandering the worlds from this point on.” Nightshade looked at Faen, and both men shared a nod. “Though cautiously at first.”
Lord Nightshade stood, his hands in his back as he stretched his wings. Faen joined him, and Jus swept Cinders back across his own shoulders. Faen fluttered up over the buttercups, where he had a fine view of the ruined village just below. Enid and Escalla were eating bacon from a frying pan, Escalla laughing and beautiful with her hair bright golden in the sun.
Lord Nightshade watched his daughter with a rueful little smile.
“Escalla will not be returning to the court.” Charn looked at the Justicar and shrugged. “What was this place she wants to see? Hogwart?”
“Hommlet, my lord.” The Justicar gave a bow. “And then horizons far beyond.”
“Then we shall meet again.” Nightshade took the Justicar’s hand and pressed it with his own. “You’ll do right. I can tell.”
“Good-bye, my lord.”
“Good-bye, my son.”
Lord Nightshade produced a little box and gave it to the Justicar—parting gifts to see Jus and Escalla on their way. The two faeries stood and watched as the big human and his hell hound strode through the buttercups to where Henry awaited them. Now dressed in faerie-made armor and bearing a sword made by faerie smiths (along with his deadly crossbow), the boy ran up to Jus, who clasped him warmly by the shoulder and led him back into the village.
Enid the sphinx waved a paw back toward the two faerie lords. Escalla turned and gave a long look at her father, flashed him a strangely understanding smile, and waved farewell. Side by side, Escalla, the Justicar, Henry, and Enid marched up the road into the north, with Polk the badger happily holding their road map upside down.
As the travelers disappeared from view, Lord Faen rested his hand upon Lord Nightshade’s shoulder.
“Quite a remarkable girl, your eldest daughter. Not quite… genteel, but a certain lively spark. I believe I shall miss her. I do wish her well on her travels.”
“I shall miss her, too.” Lord Nightshade heaved a sigh and plucked himself a buttercup. “Still, she grows and grows. I have such hopes for her.”
“Yes.” Faen walked side by side with Nightshade as both men moved back into the forest. “What was that you gave them as parting gifts just now?”
“Oh, for him, a longevity potion. For her, I thought she should keep her wedding dress. You never know when a girl might need it.”
“Oh?” Faen led the way beneath a drifting cloud of thistledown. “Just her dress?”
“And a dozen growth potions—you know, faerie-to-human size. Plus the recipe. That sort of thing.”
“Oh?” Faen activated a magic gate and seemed a tad puzzle
d. “How did you know she wanted that?”
“A little dog told me.”
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