“Why?” she asked. “If they don’t have it, how can I be of use to them?”
He leaned back in the chair. It was a strange movement, not a relaxed one, but one that was supposed to make him seem relaxed.
“Here’s what I know,” he said. “I know of at least one empath in the past who got trapped in Faerie. They magicked her somehow—enslaved her, the story goes—and they would send her into the world to collect emotion so that she could then distribute it to the Faeries.”
“Like luck,” Megan said.
“Hmm?” He blinked at her, obviously confused.
“You said they collect luck. They collect emotions too.”
“I guess,” Rob said.
“Do you personally know of this empath? Or is this just a story?”
“All stories have a basis in reality,” Rob said.
“I’m sure they do,” Megan said, not being sure at all, “but if you’re just repeating something you heard, then—”
“I’m not risking you!” he snapped.
“I’m not yours to risk,” she snapped back, and then gasped. The power behind those words had been his, not hers. It had been his fear coming through as anger, being reflected back at him through her.
Although she believed that she controlled her own destiny.
“What I mean is,” she said, “should I chose to risk my life, it’s my decision, not yours.”
“And I have to live with it,” he said, once again deceptively calm.
She nodded.
He cursed, and she could feel real distress behind the word.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Robin.”
He closed his eyes. “I said the same thing to Marian. More than once.”
“And yet she was the one who died,” Megan said.
“Oh,” he said quietly, “but I left her first. And I did it by choice.”
Thirty-three
Fear. Fear was an amazingly powerful emotion, more powerful than love, if one let it be.
Rob shook his head, and closed his eyes, so that he couldn’t see Megan. He had been so terrified of losing Marian that he had left her first, going off to fight in the Crusades, and then learning that no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake how he felt about her.
Nor could he shake the fear.
So he had gone home, only to find that she was angry with him, and the relationship had changed. They patched it up as best they could, but it was never exactly the same.
And that had been his fault.
“Robin?” Megan asked gently.
He opened his eyes. She was studying him.
“You know how I know you didn’t manipulate me?” she asked.
He shook his head, wondering why she was telling him this now.
“Because,” she said, “from the first moment I saw you, I’ve loved you, too.”
He couldn’t respond at all—there were no words—so he didn’t say anything.
“But what I’ve learned, in a life as a closet empath—” and then she smiled, amused, apparently, at her own choice of words— “is that even though emotions are powerful and can overwhelm you, the only thing that’ll save you is hanging onto yourself.”
He wasn’t sure he understood that. His confusion must have shown on his face, for she crouched next to him and took his hand.
“The only way I can love you,” she said as gently as he’d ever heard her speak, “is for there to be an ‘I’ in the first place.”
She was right. He knew that. He had given up everything for Marian after he had come back, and it hadn’t made things better. They were all right, but they had never achieved that passion and perfection of the early years.
“You want to go to Faerie, don’t you?” he asked.
“If I can distract them so that you can steal the wheel, why not? It doesn’t sound like I’ll die.”
“But you could get trapped there,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I’m in love with Robin Hood, and wasn’t it said of him that no walls could hold him? No prison could keep him out?”
“Of me, yes,” he said. “But not of the people around me.”
“Didn’t you rescue everyone who’d been captured?” she asked.
“When I was young,” he said.
“Did anyone get captured when you were older?”
“No,” he said, “but I’d gone up against mere mortals. Faeries are powerful.”
“And yet my newbie brother defeated them,” Megan said.
“He escaped them,” Rob said. “That’s a different thing.”
She shook her head. “It seems to me escape is all we’re discussing. And I believe it’s completely possible.”
She did believe it, he could see it in her eyes. She believed it with all the naïveté of a new mage. And yet, she had an argument.
And he was reacting out of fear.
“Can I be part of your plan to get the wheel?” she asked quietly.
His heart—his fearful, newly reopened heart—trembled as he said, ever so softly, “Yes.”
Thirty-three
Fear. Fear was an amazingly powerful emotion, more powerful than love, if one let it be.
Rob shook his head, and closed his eyes, so that he couldn’t see Megan. He had been so terrified of losing Marian that he had left her first, going off to fight in the Crusades, and then learning that no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake how he felt about her.
Nor could he shake the fear.
So he had gone home, only to find that she was angry with him, and the relationship had changed. They patched it up as best they could, but it was never exactly the same.
And that had been his fault.
“Robin?” Megan asked gently.
He opened his eyes. She was studying him.
“You know how I know you didn’t manipulate me?” she asked.
He shook his head, wondering why she was telling him this now.
“Because,” she said, “from the first moment I saw you, I’ve loved you, too.”
He couldn’t respond at all—there were no words—so he didn’t say anything.
“But what I’ve learned, in a life as a closet empath—” and then she smiled, amused, apparently, at her own choice of words— “is that even though emotions are powerful and can overwhelm you, the only thing that’ll save you is hanging onto yourself.”
He wasn’t sure he understood that. His confusion must have shown on his face, for she crouched next to him and took his hand.
“The only way I can love you,” she said as gently as he’d ever heard her speak, “is for there to be an ‘I’ in the first place.”
She was right. He knew that. He had given up everything for Marian after he had come back, and it hadn’t made things better. They were all right, but they had never achieved that passion and perfection of the early years.
“You want to go to Faerie, don’t you?” he asked.
“If I can distract them so that you can steal the wheel, why not? It doesn’t sound like I’ll die.”
“But you could get trapped there,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I’m in love with Robin Hood, and wasn’t it said of him that no walls could hold him? No prison could keep him out?”
“Of me, yes,” he said. “But not of the people around me.”
“Didn’t you rescue everyone who’d been captured?” she asked.
“When I was young,” he said.
“Did anyone get captured when you were older?”
“No,” he said, “but I’d gone up against mere mortals. Faeries are powerful.”
“And yet my newbie brother defeated them,” Megan said.
“He escaped them,” Rob said. “That’s a different thing.”
She shook her head. “It seems to me escape is all we’re discussing. And I believe it’s completely possible.”
She did believe it, he could see it in her eyes. She believed it with all the naïve
té of a new mage. And yet, she had an argument.
And he was reacting out of fear.
“Can I be part of your plan to get the wheel?” she asked quietly.
His heart—his fearful, newly reopened heart—trembled as he said, ever so softly, “Yes.”
Thirty-four
It felt like the old days. Rob was at the top of his game. John liked the plan. Everyone had a part, even the kid.
John stood still while Zoe put the finishing touches on his disguise. Apparently no one could enter Faerie looking like a civilian—the Faeries would encircle them, use their magic against them, and steal whatever luck they had.
Invisibility spells didn’t work either, because the Faeries could track them. Sometimes they let mages with invisibility spells go very deep into Faerie before trapping them there and making them lose years.
Some, Zoe said, lost their lives.
Although John hadn’t heard of it. He stood in the middle of the giant bathroom at the back of Travers’ suite. Travers sat on the edge of the bathtub watching the entire procedure. Rob peered into the mirror, looking at his newly blackened hair, his upswept eyebrows, high cheekbones, and brand-new pointed ears.
“It looks weird,” he said. “They’ll see right through it.”
“They didn’t see through me,” Travers said. “But a Faerie actually did mine.”
He’d been done up to look like a Faerie in order to rescue Zoe. She had put him right just that morning, which he reminded her as they all headed toward the bathroom.
“If we could find Gaylord,” Zoe said, “then we’d use him. But I think he heard that I was rescued and went off on his own again. He does that.”
“You’re doing fine,” John said through clenched lips. It actually hurt to have her do this magic on him. His face was stretching, and his bones creaking.
She had insisted on doing the magic because she’d been around Faerie her whole life (apparently, from what Travers said, her prophecy had been about Faerie), and because she thought that John and Robin wouldn’t “go the distance.”
She didn’t explain that, but John knew what she meant. There was a certain delicacy to all Faeries that he didn’t have—he was more the linebacker, break-a-few-heads type—and for this to work, he had to willow-out a little.
Zoe couldn’t change his mass, but she was moving it around some. He was actually going to get taller and thinner, which was initially what he wanted (that Atkins diet), but not like this.
Apparently, there were no fat Faeries. John tried to think of a counter example and couldn’t come up with any.
Not that he was fat. He was large, big-boned, and strong. Fat never figured into it.
Except when he stood on his own scale, and realized how much weight he’d put on since he’d been a young man.
Of course, food was more widely available now than it had been in the twelfth century.
“Don’t smile,” Zoe said, still working on his cheekbones. This took a delicate magic, the kind that was almost like sculpting.
Rob looked oddly like some of the paintings made of him centuries ago. Put him in green and add a feather in his cap, and he’d look a little like Errol Flynn—and John hadn’t seen any resemblance before now.
“I’m still not sure I should go back in,” Travers said forlornly. “I’d be happier if I stayed up here.”
“I’m lousy at math,” Rob said, “and John’s only slightly better.”
“Who does the books for your corporations?” Travers asked.
“A series of accountants, who never see all of the books. It’s a checks and balances thing,” Rob said, “since I really can’t oversee it well.”
“Sounds like a major handicap,” Travers said.
“I’ve coped for a long time.” He shrugged, turned around, and rested his hands on the counter, peering at John. “You look more like an oversized leprechaun.”
“Faith and begorrah to you too,” John grumped.
“Stop moving,” Zoe said. “I’m almost done.”
“The three of us have to go in,” Rob said. “I need you to get us to that wheel as quickly as possible. John and I’ll get it out, but again, you have to lead.”
Travers sighed. “Leaving Zoe to guard the Fates.”
“I’m not guarding anyone,” Zoe said. “They’re going to help me monitor.”
“Which I don’t entirely understand,” Travers said.
“Done.” Zoe took her hands off John’s face. It still ached, but not as badly. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked a lot more like the Jolly Green Giant than an oversized leprechaun, but he wasn’t sure that was an improvement.
“You don’t have to understand,” he said to Travers. “Rob’s in charge. He never tells us the entire plan.”
“Great.” Travers muttered.
Zoe smiled fondly at him. “Come up here,” she said and pointed to the chair that John was just vacating.
John went and sat by Rob. “Aren’t we a pair?” Rob asked. “I’d rather wear green and smear mud on my face than do this.”
“It’s the same idea,” John said, hearing his jaw crack as he spoke. This was going to be a painful few hours.
“I suppose,” Rob said.
“It’s the team that worries me too,” John said. “Zoe doesn’t have enough firepower if we all get trapped.”
“But she has the Fates,” Rob said. “They know some magic tricks that we don’t.”
“And don’t, at the moment, have the skill to execute them.”
“It’ll work,” Rob said, but he looked worried too, and John knew why. Megan had talked him into letting her be involved. The Fates thought that was a good idea—that was why, they said, the adventure was happening now, because of Megan.
But Rob didn’t want to put her at risk.
All of them would be at some kind of risk. John wasn’t really sure what the Faeries could do to him, besides steal some of his magic and make him lose a few decades but he also knew he didn’t want to find out.
“Yeouch!” Travers said. “It didn’t hurt when Gaylord did it.”
Zoe shrugged. “He’s had more practice, I’m sure.”
“Smuggling people into Faerie? I don’t think so.”
John rubbed his hands over his weirdly shaped face. “How long do you think this’ll take us?” he asked Rob softly.
“Too long,” Rob said. “That’s my biggest worry—that it’ll take much too long.”
Thirty-four
It felt like the old days. Rob was at the top of his game. John liked the plan. Everyone had a part, even the kid.
John stood still while Zoe put the finishing touches on his disguise. Apparently no one could enter Faerie looking like a civilian—the Faeries would encircle them, use their magic against them, and steal whatever luck they had.
Invisibility spells didn’t work either, because the Faeries could track them. Sometimes they let mages with invisibility spells go very deep into Faerie before trapping them there and making them lose years.
Some, Zoe said, lost their lives.
Although John hadn’t heard of it. He stood in the middle of the giant bathroom at the back of Travers’ suite. Travers sat on the edge of the bathtub watching the entire procedure. Rob peered into the mirror, looking at his newly blackened hair, his upswept eyebrows, high cheekbones, and brand-new pointed ears.
“It looks weird,” he said. “They’ll see right through it.”
“They didn’t see through me,” Travers said. “But a Faerie actually did mine.”
He’d been done up to look like a Faerie in order to rescue Zoe. She had put him right just that morning, which he reminded her as they all headed toward the bathroom.
“If we could find Gaylord,” Zoe said, “then we’d use him. But I think he heard that I was rescued and went off on his own again. He does that.”
“You’re doing fine,” John said through clenched lips. It actually hurt to have her do this magic on him. His face was stre
tching, and his bones creaking.
She had insisted on doing the magic because she’d been around Faerie her whole life (apparently, from what Travers said, her prophecy had been about Faerie), and because she thought that John and Robin wouldn’t “go the distance.”
She didn’t explain that, but John knew what she meant. There was a certain delicacy to all Faeries that he didn’t have—he was more the linebacker, break-a-few-heads type—and for this to work, he had to willow-out a little.
Zoe couldn’t change his mass, but she was moving it around some. He was actually going to get taller and thinner, which was initially what he wanted (that Atkins diet), but not like this.
Apparently, there were no fat Faeries. John tried to think of a counter example and couldn’t come up with any.
Not that he was fat. He was large, big-boned, and strong. Fat never figured into it.
Except when he stood on his own scale, and realized how much weight he’d put on since he’d been a young man.
Of course, food was more widely available now than it had been in the twelfth century.
“Don’t smile,” Zoe said, still working on his cheekbones. This took a delicate magic, the kind that was almost like sculpting.
Rob looked oddly like some of the paintings made of him centuries ago. Put him in green and add a feather in his cap, and he’d look a little like Errol Flynn—and John hadn’t seen any resemblance before now.
“I’m still not sure I should go back in,” Travers said forlornly. “I’d be happier if I stayed up here.”
“I’m lousy at math,” Rob said, “and John’s only slightly better.”
“Who does the books for your corporations?” Travers asked.
“A series of accountants, who never see all of the books. It’s a checks and balances thing,” Rob said, “since I really can’t oversee it well.”
“Sounds like a major handicap,” Travers said.
“I’ve coped for a long time.” He shrugged, turned around, and rested his hands on the counter, peering at John. “You look more like an oversized leprechaun.”
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