Mad Maudlin

by Mercedes Lackey

  TirNaOg. The Land of Eternal Youth.

  A fine place—if you were an Irish warrior whose idea of Heaven was somewhere that held all of your other friends, and where you were all young and strong and in the prime of life forever. A lovely place, if your choice was never having to grow up. He hadn't been that far off the mark when he'd asked Karen if he was one of the Lost Boys.

  But I've done a lot of growing up since then. It's all been hard, and some of it's been painful, but I wouldn't trade the life I have now for the life I had then—even an idealized version of it. I like being a grown-up.

  "Ah, Bard Eric, you have awakened."

  An ancient Sidhe entered the room, obviously one of those who had repaired the damage done in a catastrophe the details of which he still couldn't quite remember. Its face was androgynously beautiful; between the long flowing robes, and the Sidhe's great age, it was difficult to tell the Healer's gender—and some Sidhe just liked to keep you guessing, anyway. Eric could feel the nimbus of Power around—him? her?—without any effort.

  "Yes. I, ah . . ."

  "I am Healer Avalnate of Elfhame Misthold. When young Korendil told Master Dharniel of your plight, he begged of me and my sisters that we travel to the World Above to succor you in your distress. We sought and found you there, yet it was thought unwise to attempt any work of Healing in such a polluted place. So we returned with you here." Avalnate smiled coolly. "Perhaps you would have died there."

  "Perhaps," Eric said, just as formally. "And so I thank you for your great care of me, and for your work on my Master's behalf."

  If there was one thing Master Dharniel had managed to beat into Eric's head along with his Bardic training, it was a basic understanding of Elven protocol. If Dharniel had actually unbent so far as to ask a favor on his behalf—and it looked like it had been a very big favor—it would absolutely not do to be anything less than very formally polite.

  "You will wish to dress and to see your friends. They have been as impatient as mortalkin, both young Korendil and the lennan sidhe."

  Lennan sidhe, Eric knew, was the old term the elves used for a mortal who left human lands to live Underhill with one of the Sidhe. At the moment it didn't seem to be particularly complimentary, at least not as Healer Avalnate used it.

  But he kept his face smooth, simply bowing again as well as he could from a sitting position. Avalnate turned and left.

  Eric threw back the covers, only to grab them again as Beth came rushing into the room, closely followed by Kory. It almost seemed silly—she'd seen him a great deal more than naked, plenty of times—but before he could sort out the impulse, she'd flung herself on him, toppling him back into the bed, weeping and covering his face with kisses.

  "Eric—oh, Eric—I thought you were going to die—oh, God—when Kayla sent that e-mail—when I saw you in that hospital bed—if I ever get my hands on those punks from the park—"

  "Hey— wait a minute— slow down—" Eric gasped, arms suddenly full of the both of them. "What hospital? What punks?"

  Beth drew back and stared at him in disbelief. "Don't you remember?"

  Eric thought hard. "I remember going up to Central Park . . . Tuesday? Yeah. Tuesday morning." But why had he been going there? That he couldn't remember.

  "Don't worry about it," Beth said, hugging him so fiercely Eric gasped for air. "You're alive and whole, and that's all that matters!"

  "Yeah—but what happened?" Eric demanded plaintively.

  "You were set upon by ruffians," Kory said somberly. "And did not defend yourself. They beat you until you were driven from yourself."

  "Some trick," Eric said, puzzled. But a head injury would account for the scrambled memories, he guessed. He hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important.

  "Kayla went looking for you—you'd lost your link to Lady Day, and she went ballistic," Beth said. "She's here, by the way; she followed you Underhill and showed up a little while after you arrived; she's down in the stables now. Anyway, Kayla finally got around to letting us know, and Kory was able to cast a spell that let us see what happened to you. So then we checked the hospitals until we found your body—"

  "I was dead?" Eric interrupted, alarmed.

  "No, just in an irreversible coma," Beth said, finally able to make jokes now that it was all over. "And in traction. You looked like Frankenstein's Mummy. So. They were just about to shut down your respirator—"

  "What?"

  "Do not tease the Bard, my heart," Kory said. "You were grievously injured, Eric, that much is true. But the worst hurt was to your mind; when Kayla attempted to touch your consciousness, she found it absent, and the Healer Elizabet counseled her not to attempt to restore your body until your mind was within it once more. So she sent us from the World Above, all being in good hands, since Ria Llewellyn was able to stand as your worldly kinsman once she was aware of your plight—"

  "Ria!" Eric said. "Where's Ria now?"

  "Tied up with some business thing," Beth said, shrugging. "She didn't come to the hospital, anyway. But boy, did everyone start jumping once her personal assistant started name-dropping. You should have been there," Beth said with malicious satisfaction.

  I was. Sort of.

  "Kayla and Hosea assured us that they would do all they might to bring you back to yourself, and when the message arrived of their success though saying how much more work yet remained, I thought we might spare them that necessity. So I petitioned Prince Arvin to send Healers—though of course it was Master Dharniel who asked, since the Sisters bow not to the command of any, and Dharniel is your Master," Kory said, taking up the tale again.

  And would be until the end of Time—at least technically, and for the terms of Elven protocol—Eric knew. Well, at least now he knew what sex Avalnate was.

  "And the Sisters brought me down here and magicked me up good as new," Eric said, piecing it all together. "Did they tell anybody?"

  Both Kory and Beth looked blank.

  "Hosea, Kayla, Ria? The hospital?"

  "I think they used a spell of Forgetting on the hospital," Kory said hesitantly. "So no one would see them, or remark on their presence, or that of their elvensteeds. It would have been a very strong spell," he added reassuringly.

  Maybe strong enough to wipe all memory of me out of the minds of everybody in the hospital. Or not. Magic works in freaky ways in New York.

  "How long have I been here?" Eric said, climbing out of bed and looking for his clothes. And how long has it been since Tuesday?

  "It's just been a day, really," Beth said. "I can go e-mail Hosea and Kayla right now, Eric. Surely you can stay for just a little while? At least see Maeve before you go."

  "No," Kory said, surprisingly. "Eric must go, and as quickly as may be. He has responsibilities in the World Above that will not wait. He will return as soon as he can, I know. And we will visit him, and soon."

  Because this can be TirNaOg too. Sorry, Bethie. I've got to get Magnus safe . . . and there might be something else going on I can't quite remember.

  He looked at Kory; Kory nodded, as if he had heard all those thoughts. Then Kory kissed Beth upon the forehead, got to his feet, and helped Eric find his clothes.

  * * *

  By the time they reached Broadway, Jaycie felt safe enough to slow down a little. Kayla looked back. No shadows in sight, other than the normal ones.

  "What was that?" Kayla demanded.

  "Magic," Jaycie said bitterly. "Elven magic. Hunters that make their prey run in terror before them so that the huntsman may slay it." He turned away, hunching his shoulders against the cold, his long hair streaming in the wind.

  "You said elves couldn't come here!" Ace said to Kayla accusingly.

  "I said it wasn't safe for long," Kayla said. "He's here," she pointed out inarguably. And Kory came to visit Eric, too, though he was careful not to stay more than a few days.

  Where could they go that was safe? The barriers at Guardian House would keep the shadow things out, she was pretty sure, b
ut Ria'd said that might not be a safe place for her to go. And if there was going to be trouble—men-with-guns kind of trouble—Kayla didn't want to drag a bunch of innocent bystanders into it.

  But Ria's apartment was shielded and warded too—well enough to keep a bunch of nasty elvish nightmares out. She hoped. And Ria had suggested she go there in the first place. So that meant it must be a place trouble wouldn't be looking for her.

  "How long are they going to follow us?" Magnus asked edgily.

  Jaycie didn't say anything, but his expression said everything it needed to. Forever.

  "I know a place where we can go," Kayla said cautiously.

  "Where?" Ace said.

  "Don't trust her," Magnus urged.

  "It's a trap," Jaycie chimed in helpfully.

  Kayla could cheerfully have strangled both of them on the spot. She was pretty sure Ace would trust her, if the boys would just shut up.

  "Okay," she said. "Don't trust me. So where are you going to go to get away from those things?"

  Both of the others looked at Jaycie.

  He looked scared—and fresh out of ideas. "There is nowhere. Once they have the scent of their prey, they are tireless. Not quick, but sure. And you must sleep." He said the last word longingly.

  "We could take a train—or a bus," Ace said desperately. "Outrun them."

  "Where?" Kayla said brutally. "And what's to say that you won't run into someone else looking for one of you?"

  Magnus looked guilty and worried. Ace looked just plain scared. Neither of them said anything.

  "Look. A friend of mine has a place uptown. I know this is a lot to take in right now, but it's got magical wards around it—defenses—and I don't think those shadow-things will be able to see through them. She isn't there right now, but it's okay if we use it."

  For a long moment nobody said anything. Kayla could feel their suspicion, their resistance.

  "Please don't trick us," Ace said softly.

  "I won't," Kayla said. "I promise. It'll be a shock, but I promise. No tricks."

  * * *

  Hosea wrestled with his conscience for almost two hours before giving in and getting his jacket.

  He was going to find Kayla and Magnus.

  With Eric gone, Ria incommunicado—he'd tried both her numbers and gotten no answer at either one—and Kayla in danger, there was only one thing for him to do. Little Bit was doing the best she knew how, but she'd never stopped to think that if the people Ria was worried about were after her, they might already be following her.

  And she might have led them right back to Magnus and a bunch of scared, helpless, defenseless street kids.

  There wasn't much he could do for the lot of them—but he could get his hands on Kayla and Magnus and bring them back here, if he had to drag them back to Guardian House kicking and screaming. And he'd keep Magnus here if he had to tie the boy to a chair to do it.

  He owed it to Eric.

  He looked regretfully toward Jeanette, but he couldn't take her with him this time. Still, there were a few tricks he could manage to pull off without her. Enough to make Magnus come along quietly, he imagined.

  * * *

  But when he reached the abandoned tenement, trouble had already come calling.

  The front door was hanging open, half ripped off its hinges. Ignoring the crowd of people gathered out front, Hosea summoned up his shine and walked past them and into the building. No one had gone in yet, which meant that whatever it was, it hadn't happened that long ago.

  None of them noticed him. It wasn't invisibility. More like unnoticeability. People could see him if they looked at him. They just preferred to look elsewhere.

  He went up the stairs, treading carefully in the dimness. When he'd gone up a couple of flights, he could see a glow coming from above, and the sound of hip-hop music playing.

  But when he reached the place where it was, there was nobody there.

  There were sleeping bags and piles of blankets scattered all over the floor, and dozens of candles left burning all around the room. Someone—a lot of someones—had been living here very recently. But there was nobody here now. And in a few hours, when people came up and looked around, none of this stuff would be here, either.

  He walked to the middle of the room, looking around. Clothes—food—CDs and music players. Nobody—especially the homeless—left that kind of stuff unattended, especially with the downstairs door hanging open like that.

  Something bad had happened here.

  As he stood there, not moving, something familiar caught his eye.

  Kayla's backpack. She'd been here.

  He hurried over to it and picked it up, tearing it open and rummaging through it. Her phone and PDA were both there. So was her wallet. She'd never leave that behind.

  Not if she had a choice.

  He slung it over his shoulder.

  The mage-sight that Eric was trying to teach him didn't come easily yet, but after a struggle he managed to call it up and use it now, checking for clues. His vision seemed to blur and shift, and suddenly the world appeared in colors it wasn't meant to.

  And he could See . . . something.

  Traces of magic burned red on the walls, like spatters of blood. There were pools of dull silver near where he'd found the backpack—a different kind of magic, a better magic—but there were only a few of those, in a small area, and the red magic was everywhere, as if it had flooded the place and then seeped away. The stains seemed to pulse with a malignant life.

  He turned around. The bad magic had flowed down the stairs behind him, trickling out onto the city street.

  Follow the magic? He wasn't sure he could. Once it reached the street, its faint traces would be lost amid the pedestrians, the lights, and the traffic. Concentrate too hard on following the trail, and he could end up in the hospital just the way Eric had, and for much the same reason.

  Suddenly Hosea froze, blinking away the mage-sight.

  Someone was coming up the stairs.

  * * *

  Eric pulled into the parking lot at Guardian House and swung his leg over Lady Day's seat. The elvensteed purred smugly, having enjoyed the run back from the Everforest Gate, especially because it had been taken at top speed under a cloak of invisibility.

  Eric hurried inside, his thoughts fixed on finding out—first—what day it was, and then getting back up to The Place to resume his masquerade. Or . . . forget that. He was going to level with Magnus tonight and get him somewhere safe—hell, all three of them—Ace, Magnus, Jaycie. He didn't care what they were running from. He'd protect them from it. That's what grown-ups did. They protected kids. Kids were the future.

  A faint confused feeling momentarily distracted him. There was something he'd forgotten. Something important. He knew it.

  But whatever it was, it would have to wait. Even with the best Elven Healing in the world, he'd taken a major knock to the head. Scattered memories took time to resurface.

  He went inside.

  Hosea wasn't home, and neither was Kayla. Eric went up to his own apartment.

  Greystone was waiting for him there.

  "You're back," the gargoyle said, sounding guilty and unhappy. "Oh, laddybuck, I wish I'd known you'd be coming a few hours ago."

  "What? Why? What's wrong?" Eric demanded sharply.

  "Well," Greystone said, "maybe I'd better start at the beginning."

  "Talk while I change," Eric said. He was still wearing High Court finery, and needed to get into something a little more Earthly before putting in an appearance Uptown. He walked into the bedroom, pulling off his cloak and tunic as he went.

  "Well, Kayla was that upset when you vanished from the hospital this morning, and everyone there was sayin' you'd never been there in the first place," Greystone began slowly.

  "This morning?" Eric said, not paying a lot of attention. That's good. "What day is it?"

  "Wednesday," Greystone told him.

  "I've been gone a week?" Eric yelped, suddenly fo
cusing on Greystone's words.

  "Been a helluva week, boyo," Greystone said. "You were missing for most of it, and that scooter of yours was raising the roof."

  Eric grinned faintly in spite of himself. Kory and Beth had told him that part. "So what happened then?" He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, the closest analogues in his wardrobe for his missing "street person" garb.

  "So Miss Ria thought you goin' missing might have something to do with her problems down in Washington with the hardboys, and told Kayla to hide out with the kids. So she does, and then Hosea comes around and—I couldn't help it, Boss—none of us knew where you were, or what had happened, and when—or if—you was comin' back!"

  Eric turned around to face him, a black leather duster in one hand, a pair of boots in the other.

  "What did you do?" he said slowly.

  The gargoyle hung its head.

  "I told him where The Place was. And now he's gone up there to bring Kayla and Magnus back."

  Eric sighed, and shook his head. No wonder Greystone was upset. He'd told Hosea something he could only have known from reading Eric's thoughts. Eric guessed that for Greystone to do something like that was almost like a priest violating the sanctity of the confessional.

  But what if he hadn't come back? What if he had been kidnapped by enemies, and not taken Underhill by friends—or allies at least? What if he hadn't gotten back from Underhill as quickly as he had? Hosea was his friend and his student, and Eric trusted him to do the best he could.

  "Don't worry about it," Eric said gently, setting down the boots and putting a hand on Greystone's shoulder. "I would have done the same thing in your place. It'll work out." It's going to have to.

  He stomped into his boots hastily and swung his duster around his shoulders. He'd been planning to cast an illusion over them to make them look like the clothes he'd worn before, but there was no point to it now. "How long ago did he leave?"

  "About an hour ago," Greystone said with a sigh.

  Eric patted the gargoyle on the shoulder. Well, whatever was going to happen had already happened by now. "Look—would you tell everybody I'm back, and fine? Everybody who knew I was gone? Kory just called in a couple of favors, and some friends of his took me Underhill to finish healing me up. Only they weren't too careful about letting anyone know I was gone." Or covering their tracks. Or maybe the word there is too careful, if nobody at the hospital remembers I was there in the first place. Never mind.